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A Whole Lot of Hellified(?) Fun: The 2013 Wholly Hell 15k Race Report

(Image courtesy of Muddy Monk)

(Image courtesy of Muddy Monk)

“This race is worth it for the logo alone,” said my pal, Brandt as he held up the devil-horned, mud-splattered, red silhouette of the iconic Muddy Monk on a field of black.

We were getting ready to toe the line at the Wholly Hell 15k, a nice middle distance trail race put on by Art Boulet and his Muddy Monk trail race series.

“Yeah, it’s not every day you see a monk with horns like that,” I replied, eager to throw down 9+ miles so I could get to finish line and guzzle a few Finch’s beers — my ultimate target for the day.  In fact, the finish line feel at all of the Muddy Monk races is pretty spectacular: good beer, good food and most of all, good people.

It wasn’t long ago that I was yearning for some sort of trail running entity to take over the Chicagoland area — some sort of portal to the trailrunning world that didn’t require a minimum of 31 miles on your feet.  Sure, 5ks and half marathons take up plenty of space on the CARA race calendar, but what about short and middle distance trail races?  What about some options for those of us who like to get our running buzz on with a side of mud and a dash of DEET?

Enter Art Boulet and the Muddy Monk.

I met Art at the USOLE Trail Challenge last fall while hanging out with my ultrarunning friends.  A few weeks later a few of us volunteered at his Schiller Thriller 5k — a nice 3.1 mile trail run on what was for me a previously unknown trail system on the west side of Chicago.  Seeing how well received the race was, especially by those new to the trailrunning community, I decided I had to start showing up at more of these.

The Wholly Hell 15k at Palos’ Swallow Cliffs looked like an ideal race to run.

Even though I consider the Swallow Cliffs trails to be a home game venue for me, I was really surprised at how much single track was there, previously unbeknownst to me.  The course had us on and off the crushed limestone multi-track that I am familiar with, but a good chunk of the race was also on heavily canopied, luscious green single track, with plenty of opportunities to get dirty.

And get dirty I did!

I ran the whole race with my friend, Brandt, and our main goal was to beat Peter Sagal, host of Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me on NPR.  This goal had no malicious roots at all; it was merely a better alternative to saying “I got beat by Peter Sagal”, something I have also said before.  In retrospect, I now know that both statements sound pretty cool to my fellow NPR nerd friends.

I first met Mr. Sagal at the USOLE race last fall, and again at the Paleozoic 25k.  When I saw he would be running the Wholly Hell 15k, I told Brandt we had to keep him in our sights.

Unfortunately for us, Sagal took off super quick and I didn’t think we would have a chance to catch him…

Until we did with just a couple miles left to go.

In passing, we shared a few words about our experiences at the 2013 Boston Marathon (his riveting piece on his day is well worth a read) before Brandt and I took off at our own steady 7:40ish pace.

With the finish line in sight, Brandt and I had a good sprint to the finish in just over one hour, eleven minutes.  Then we immediately headed to the finish line for Finch’s beer, extended sunshine and good conversation with the many new friends we made.

wholly hell 15k photo finish

(Image courtesy of Muddy Monk)

Whether you are a road runner curious on mixing some more nature into your workouts or a veteran trail ultra runner looking for  some shorter distance options, the Muddy Monk trail running series is your ticket to exploring all that hides under the forested canopy Chicagoland can offer.

And did I mention there was good beer?

(Image courtesy of brewsandbeyond.blogspot.com)

(Image courtesy of brewsandbeyond.blogspot.com)

Posted by  |  June 10, 2013 | Categories: Philosophy, Race Reports, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Purposeful Pacing: Some Thoughts on Getting Your Runner to the Finish Line

Hanging with Jen at the Kettle Moraine 100 finish line. (Image courtesy of Martha Manzo-Walker)

Hanging with Jen at the Kettle Moraine 100 finish line. (Image courtesy of Martha Manzo-Walker)

It’s been over 72 hours now since I watched Jen Birkner cross the finish line at the Kettle Moraine 100 Mile Endurance Run, and the smile her accomplishment put on my face still stretches proudly across my cheeks.

What.

A.

Performance!

Jen overcame the intense morning humidity, the marshy sauna of the meadows and over 50 miles of macerated, blistering feet to still cross the finish line like a champ, proving once again that the ultimate test of one’s abilities is the strength of his or her thoughts.  Her achievement was mind over matter, relentless forward progress at its best.

And I couldn’t be more proud.

Jen’s accomplishment also makes me a perfect 3-for-3 in 100 mile pacing duties.  And in each case, getting my runner to the finish line has required a great deal of focused energy and thoughtful preparation.  Pacing gig number four is coming up at the end of the month as I pick up Siamak for the last 38 miles of his epic adventure on the grandest ultrarunning stage of them all — The Western States 100 —  and thinking about what it takes to be a good pacer, I thought I would share some basic ideas that have helped me fulfill my duties thus far.

In no particular order, they are:

KNOW Your Runner
Before pacing someone, you should know if he or she prefers you run in front or back, if she likes to talk or keep quiet, if he wants to power hike the hills or charge right up them.  You should know how she fuels.  You should know what he expects out of you.  There should be no surprises.  Communication is key, and I would consider being able to read body language and emotion an essential element to that communication.

Be Comfortable Knowing This Is Not YOUR Race
Your own wants/needs/dreams have no place in your role as pacer.  This is your runner’s race, and the pacer serves best as a shadow of his runner — a very cool, strong, receptive and determined shadow, of course.

Talk to People Who Have Paced Before
What better way to know what you are getting yourself into than to ask those who have already had the experience?  In the lead-up to all my pacing, I have made it a point to pick the brains of those who have already succeeded in such a role.  Race specificity is key too.  Talk to those who have already run the course.  Know what to expect ahead of time.

Know/Study the Course
Though this seems obvious, I mention it still because there are going to be times when the pacer must be the voice of reason for a super-tired runner, and if he or she knows all that the course will throw one’s way, this makes those future decisions just that much more informed.

Go Over the Game Plan with Your Runner BEFOREHAND
Really take the time to sit down with your runner and discuss his or her goals before the race.  I think it’s important to know what he or she is thinking, what direction she wants to go.  Remember, as a pacer, this isn’t your race.  It’s your runner’s race, and his or her game plan is what needs to be followed.  Knowing the A goals from the B and C goals will also help you make important decisions during the race that the runner may need some encouragement and/or help making herself.

Be Prepared for Whatever Nature Throws Your Way
At Kettle, for example, we knew that thunderstorms were a likely scenario.  Though they never came, Jen and I discussed beforehand what we would do in the event of a thunderstorm.  We talked about visualizing that situation, so that if it did happen, we would be ready for it and it would not get us down.

Eschew Negativity
I liken this concept to the “rule of positivity” my friends and I used to practice back in our youthful *ahem* partying days.  Nothing kills a buzz (running or dance club induced) quite like negative thoughts.  Even when your runner is in a bad spot — and he likely will be at some point during a hundred mile race — try to focus on the positive as much as possible and leave negative thoughts for another time and place.

Think Before You Speak
This goes along with the previous point, but it is important enough to be singled out alone.  People can interpret things in different ways, so before I say anything to my runner I try to imagine how she might hear what I’m saying.  If anything I might say could be interpreted as a negative thought, I keep it to myself.

Know How to Do Split Math In Your Head
Have a watch.  Pay attention to what time you leave each aid station.  Be prepared to throw out split times, estimated arrival times and cut-off times so your runner can concentrate on just running and not have to fuss with calculations.

I got jokes with Jen at Bluff Road during the Kettle Moraine 100. (Image courtesy of Kelly Gaines)

I got jokes for Jen at Bluff Road during the Kettle Moraine 100. (Image courtesy of Kelly Gaines)

You Are Not Allowed to Hurt, Not Allowed to Complain
Your feet might ache.  You might have a blister.  You might have a chapped ass.  That’s fine.  Just don’t say anything about it.  As a pacer, and following the “no negativity” rule, I think it’s best that you leave your own issues out of any conversation.

Get Plenty of Rest
Especially if you are going to be running overnight, I highly recommend you sleep as much during the day as possible so you are alert and thinking clearly during the hardest late night/early morning hours.

Monitor Your Runner’s Fueling
Ultimately, I think it is up to the runner to fuel himself properly, but it doesn’t hurt to monitor it as a backup, especially as the late hours and extended fatigue set in.  A bonky runner is an unhappy runner, so it’s best to just avoid that altogether.

Keep Aid Station Stops Short and Efficient
It is quite easy to dabble at an aid station.  A lot of time can be lost.  When my runner and I are approaching an aid station, I make sure to go over everything we need and everything we need to do, out loud, so once we get there we’re not standing around scratching our heads.  Apply Bodyglide, change socks, eat something… knowing what to do beforehand will make the stops quick and efficient.

Know the Basics of Foot Care
Having a good idea of how to treat battered, blistered, macerated feet will come in handy.  Check out Fixing Your Feet for all the gnarly details.

Carry an Emergency Gel or Two
Ya just never know when you’re gonna need it.  I also carry extra batteries, Ginger Chews and salt tabs.

Be Prepared for the Bad Patches and Fight Them with Simple Goals and Positivity
Inevitably, bad spots are going to come.  It’s a hundred-friggin-miles, man!  Just know that they are coming and be ready to fight them back with short, simple goals.  Just getting to the next aid station is a classic cue that really works and keeps the focus on something doable when the rest of the race may seem overwhelming.  I have found that it also helps to point out all the great things my runner has accomplished up to that point so that she has some positivity to fuel off of when things get tough.

Know When to Stretch the Truth
I don’t ever lie to my runner, but when she asks “How far to the next aid station?”, I will construct an illusion of truth by replying with a time range that offers hope, even if part of it is impossible.  Oh, we’re about 10-20 minutes away, I will say, knowing that the low range is impossible.  I think it just helps the runner to hear a low number when that is what he wants to hear, even if he doesn’t know it.

Be Your Runner’s Biggest Fan
Your runner needs you.  That’s why you’re there.  Take care of her.  Encourage him.  Do whatever it takes (and you should know this by already knowing your runner) to get her to keep moving one foot in front of the other.  And if you need something to motivate you as pacer, let me tell you:

OH HOW SWEET IT IS to watch her cross the finish line knowing you had a role in her success!

Of course, I do not consider the above collection of notes to be the all encompassing way to go about pacing, but the tips I offer have all worked well for me.  If you have anything to add, please feel free to drop a line in the comments section.

Happy pacing!

Posted by  |  June 5, 2013 | Categories: Philosophy, Race Reports, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Make It Up As You Go Along and Just Be Happy That You Can

(image courtesy of http://www.voyageur50.com)

(image courtesy of http://www.voyageur50.com)

In racing, in training, in LIFE, sometimes you plan everything out perfectly only to have everything fall apart.  This is something that used to drive me crazy when I was younger dumber.  Not being able to control things and not having my carefully laid plans come to fruition was such a struggle for me and I have the salt and pepper hair to prove it.

Thankfully, I have since given up that fight.  Sure, I’m a work in progress, but I am concentrating on being mindful of my shortcomings — control being one of the biggest — and I’m finding this awareness to be a quick and healthy solution to managing the stress and fear that tends to accompany not being in control.

As Chinua Achebe (and The Roots) once told us: things fall apart.

Get used to it!

And besides, I have found that life is so much more enjoyable when I just let it come to me and experience it in the present tense, right now.  Running certainly taught me that.  Looking at myself and my actions from an outsider’s perspective taught me that too.

So when my big plans to race the Christmas in July 12-hour timed event this July fell through recently (for several reasons, I’m guessing mostly permit related at this point), I let myself be upset for about five seconds before I hopped on the interwebs and started looking for another event to fill the void.

Found it!

The Minnesota Voyageur 50 Mile Trail Ultramarathon.

I’m sure my butt will hurt just the same traversing through lush Minnesota forest as it would running in circles around a municipal park.  So it’s time to keep pushing on with the training towards my goal of scootin’ up and down those power lines!

Posted by  |  May 31, 2013 | Categories: Philosophy, Training | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Lux Aeterna and Oreos: The 2013 Ice Age Trail 50k Race Report

ice age trailheadLast year, the Ice Age Trail was home to a most glorious running experience.  It was such a memorable event that I was absolutely adamant about coming back.  But when it came time to register, an injury-laden winter and the knowledge that I would be fresh off a challenging Boston Marathon made me bump down to the 50k option.

On May 11, 2013, I ran the Ice Age Trail 50k — a challenging yet highly runnable course and now all I can think about is running it again in 2014.  This is my story…

Pre-Race

It’s 4:15 a.m. and my alarm sounds off along with my buddy Siamak’s.  The unison doesn’t last long as we are both wide awake.  In fact, I’ve been tossing and turning all night long and just happy to be fully awake now, ready to get the day started.

My off-and-on sleep was the result of the warm hotel room and a subliminal tick infestation planted in my brain by our waitress at Sperino’s the night before.  She warned us that “the ticks were bad”.  Indeed, I was tick-incepted by an Elkhornian and I didn’t get much sleep because I was more worried about the invisible critters sucking on my blood than traversing 31 miles of trail.

Still, I feel pretty fresh now that I’m awake.  Siamak and I eat, go through our respective rituals of preparation, and by 5:10 we are in the car, driving to the start line.

As expected, the start/finish area at John Muir is a who’s who of familiar, crazy runner folk.  Even though the majority of the people stirring about are running the 50 mile race, which begins at 6:00 a.m., I am glad I am here among the crowd because I won’t see most of them again until much later in the day.

The New Leafers and MUDDers are out in full force.  I exchange in many a hug and high-five.  At 6 a.m. sharp, the RD sends the 50 milers on their way.  I head back to the car for a much needed nap.

7:45 a.m.

My alarm wakes me from what was a fitting 90 minute nap (or was I meditating just now?) and I feel fantastic.  I grab the gear I’m going to need (a handheld water bottle, gloves and a cap), I lube up where necessary (this is becoming automatic nowadays) and I head over to the start line.  Here I run into two other recurring Run Factory faces, Dan and Otter.  This is the first ultra distance race for both of them so I remind them to ENJOY the experience, have fun, take a look around.  They both look pumped.  I’m excited for them and can’t wait to hear about their experiences once this is all done.

Me, Dan and Otter at the start line of the 2013 Ice Age Trail 50k.

Me, Dan and Otter at the start line of the 2013 Ice Age Trail 50k.

We cheer on our friends in the 50 miler coming through the 9 mile mark at the start/finish line before the race director corrals all the 50k runners and tells us to get on our marks… set…

Miles 1-13, Out to Horseriders and Back

Here we go!  The start line energy is high as I take off, trying to remind myself that ultras require pacing.  Hell, all races require pacing!  It’s just that the longer the distance, the less I tend to adhere to that important nugget of truth.  Take it easy, Jeff, take it easy, I tell myself.  We got a long way to go.

But, as we start to cruise the luscious single track, it isn’t long before we hit the first series of downhills and I… Simply.  Can’t.  Help myself.

I feel great.  I feel strong.  I feel like flying.

WEEEEEEE!!!

Yep.  I’m doing this.  I shouldn’t be, but I am.  I am definitely FLYING down these hills.  I’m power hiking up them, but I am flying down.  Fast.  Too fast.  I know this.  I know this!  But I’m also loving every second of it and am willing to deal with the repercussions later, if they come (they do).

As I pump my arms, tilt my pelvis forward and allow my heels to kick me in the butt on the descent, I think of all the reasons why I should check my ambition right now:

  • Limited weekly mileage (no more than 35 per week) since January
  • This first 13 mile section is all rocks and roots, quite technical and hard on my unseasoned feet compared to the easier Nordic sections coming up
  • I’ve run on trails just ONCE since November and it was only for 25k
  • I have only run more than 20 miles in one shot ONE TIME since October and that was at the Boston Marathon, just a few weeks ago
  • I have too much energy exploding through my being unchecked for this to end well

I internalize all of the above, and then, like a lot of ultra freaks, I quickly disregard everything and decide to just have fun.

I’ll fly when I wanna fly, walk when I wanna walk.

Later I will also walk when I don’t want to walk, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Right now I’m four miles in and the field has finally spread out.  I’m marveling at the lush green landscape, the twisting turns of the trail and the pesky pricks of the rocks under my feet.  Every two seconds I also check for ticks.  Damn you, lucid dream inspiring Sperino’s waitress! 

Suddenly, two strong fellas are right on my tail, so much so that I look back and offer them open passage on my left.

No, we’re good, the one in front replies.  This is a good pace for us.

Cool, I reply.  I like to let ‘er rip on the downs.  I’ll be power hiking the ups.

They fall right into place and suddenly we are one.  Down, down, down.  Up, up, up.  Their names are Tim and Mike.  This is their first ultra.  They are having a blast.

And they are pretty darn quick too.  Turns out one of them (sorry, I can’t remember which because they’re both behind me while we talk) is a Nike Pace Team leader who led the 3:25 pace group at the 2012 Chicago Marathon.

Do you know Chris?  He was my pace leader for the 3:05 group, had a California-bro accent of sorts.

Yes, I know Chris. 

Boom.  We are all instantly connected.  That was the best run of my life so far and I spend the next couple of miles rehashing the experience.  I get all jazzed, talking about fast marathons.  I seem to forget about pacing all together.  And when I find out they know another friend of mine, John from Grayslake, another Nike Pace Team leader, I get all bubbly telling them about some of our prior ultra battles (ED50k and Howl most notably).

Before I know it we are seeing the 50k leaders coming back towards us, approximately half a mile from the turnaround at Horseriders.  We all marvel at their speed, speak fondly of their poise.

It’s one thing to run fast.  It’s another to run fast on elevating, technical terrain.

We get to Horseriders.  It’s just the three of us and the aid station crew.  We chow down on some peanut butter and jelly.  A minute or two goes by and we are just eating and stretching, drinking and breathing.  But standing around too long in this chill is not comfortable so it’s time to go.  After all, it’s barely 50 degrees and the sky is cloudy — very, very cloudy.

The three of us take off back into the woods, but we aren’t a half mile back in before I realize they are going way faster than me up the hills and there’s no way I can keep up.  I tip my cap and wish them the best.  It’s going to be a long day yet.

Still, the next several miles present A LOT of smiles because I get to see all my friends passing the other direction.  As I scream down the hills I high-five and fist bump lots of folks, Dan and Otter included.  Everyone is looking good.  Everyone is smiling.

There’s no place I’d rather be right now.  THIS is the life!

I’m past 1o miles now and I won’t be seeing anyone else on this out-and-back section.  The next sign of human life will be at the start/finish line.

Hmm… I wonder if they have Oreos.  I could really go for some Oreos right now.

And just like that, my OCD kicks in and all I can think about are OREOS OREOS OREOS.  Such are the strange fixations of an ultra-distance race.  In my every day life I wouldn’t touch an Oreo cookie.  A drop of soda does not touch my mouth.  I make it a point to eat clean — very, very clean.  But throw me on a beautiful, wooded trail for hours on end and suddenly I will devour all processed foods and binge on soda pop.  Like a boss.

I get to the start/finish.  They have Oreos.

Hallelujah.

Miles 13-22, 1st Nordic Loop

It was nice to see some people at the start/finish line but I got a lot of work to do yet so off I go, back into solitary run mode.

Just a couple of miles in and I realize how much easier the Nordic loop is compared to the one I just finished.  Instead of technical, rocky, rooted, up and down terrain, what we have here is a lot of flat, grassy ski trail.  I should be able to fly through this.

SHOULD.  Of course, I can’t right now because I beat myself up during the first 13, flying downhill like I was a mountain goat or Killian Jornet.  Clearly, I am neither, as my quads and now achy heels can attest.

I am 16 miles in and anxiously looking for some hills.

Where are the hills?  My legs hurt and I want to walk.  Can I have a hill please?

No one can hear me.  I’m all by myself.  I have been all by myself since mile 8 so if I stop and walk, surely no one will see me.

A little bit of walking is allowed.  Right?

I turn the corner and I see a HILL!  I sprint towards it — OUCH — get to the base, and power hike up that baby.

For no good reason at all, Mozart’s Requiem pops into my head.  Lux Aeterna, the last movement where Wolfy takes us from the world of the living to the world of the dead, blasts through my ears.

Why, brain?  What are you trying to tell me? 

Oh boy.  I am tired.

While the IT band is just fine, my right hip starts to ache.  I’ve had this ache before.  It feels like bursitis.  I stop and stretch.  I massage it with my right thumb.  Doing so makes it feel better.  But as I stretch I notice the bottoms of my feet are sore too, probably from all the pounding during the first loop.  I wiggle my toes around… and yep, just as I thought, definitely got some nails loose.

Oh well!  What’s an ultra without losing some toenails?!?

REQUIEM, sings the choir.

Hey, finally some company, says a voice behind me.

I turn around and amazingly enough there is another human being!  I find out his name is Matt.  He’s from Wauwatosa and, of course, we know a lot of the same people from the running community.

As we marvel at how small the world really is, we also relax a little bit and find a nice cruising pace.  We are about 18 miles in now and I’m feeling pretty beat up.  Instead of complaining, I just hitch on to his heels and let the friendly conversation take us along.

Unfortunately for me though, Matt is much stronger right now and I have to dial back.  I know we are on sub-5 hour pace (which, for this course, is a fantastic time), but I just can’t sustain that right now.  I’m too tired.  When I stop to walk the hills it’s taking a lot more concentration than it should to contract my quads and I know it’s because I went out too fast.  I knew slogging along the second half could be the result of my eager start, but it’s way too late now.

A slog it is!  Might as well enjoy it.

…REQUIEM…

I complete the first Nordic loop, reach the start/finish aid station and all I want is Oreos.  Duh.

Nom nom nom…

Miles 22-31, 2nd Nordic Loop

Just 9 miles to go, I tell myself.  You could walk 9 miles.  In your sleep.  Speaking of sleep, check for ticks!

…REQUIEM…

No ticks, but my armpits are kinda chafed.

Oh what I would give for some Vaseline right now.

And just like that, as if Mother Nature confused “Vaseline” for “sunlight”, the clouds in the sky part on cue, revealing a glorious, GLORIOUS sun.

Take that, Mozart!  HALLELUJAH!

Sunlight, Vaseline, whatevs.  The sun is out!  The sun is out I tell you!

This picks me up as I try my best to run the entire first stretch of my second Nordic loop.  But the truth is, my run is more of a shuffle than anything right now.

Doesn’t matter.  Still moving.  Still having a blast.  And if I just keep moving, there will be more… Oreos!!!

Still, there isn’t much company.  There is a tall, skinny white guy with a Prefontaine mustache out here every once in a while cheering for me (and others I would assume).  Each time I see him I light up with a smile, and try to look as if I’m running strong (even though I’m not).

Next year we’re taking the first loop easy, then flying on the second and third.

Next year? I ask myself.

Yes, of course, next year, I reply to myself.  You’re doing Boston again next year, then you’re doing this 50k again.  It will be deja vu all over again, except less aches and pains.  Probably.  

Maybe.  

Hopefully.

Deal.  Just make sure there are plenty of Oreos.

The 27.2 mile aid station is an absolute oasis in the forest.  I devour what I can of those tasty, chocolatey, cream-filled treats.  I stretch a little.  And like I often do during long distance races, I find myself in a poignantly emotional state.  I take the time to thank the volunteers and gush about how grateful I am that they are all there.  I’ve been on both sides of the table now and volunteering is often harder than running the race.  Even though my butt hurts, my hip aches and my feet are sore, I am much happier to be less than 5 miles from being done.  These guys are still going to be here a while.

With the volunteers’ blessing and the bright sun in the sky urging me on, I take off on the last leg of my journey.  To get me to keep moving I focus on landmarks up ahead, urging myself to just run to that tree, then walk for a few seconds and get around that bend, then stretch for a bit.

After several exhausting rounds of this tortuously fun process, I see the Prefontaine ‘stache guy one last time and he tells me I’m less than a mile from the finish.

Please tell me there is beer, I plead.

Hell yeah, man!  Lots of beer!  Good beer too!

That’s all I needed to hear.  Suddenly my legs are fine and I’m flying again.

I hear a cow bell.  And voices.  And more Requiem.

There’s the finish line.

With a confident and incessant arm pump I cross the finish line in 5 hours 22 minutes and 11 seconds, sporting a big-ass smile and chafey armpits.

I couldn’t be much happier.

Post-Race

Besides the glorious trail running experience, the other main reason to run Ice Age is for the post-race party.  Lots of free beer.  The food is good.  And there’s nothing like sitting at the finish line cheering on your friends.  Most of my pals were running the 50 mile race, so to see them all come through in such epic fashion was a real cherry on top of my day.

Plus, my friend Moffat and I got the McHenry County Ultrarunning Dude and Dudettes’ mascot super drunk:

gerome the gnome

Like I already told myself:

See ya again next year, Ice Age!

Posted by  |  May 13, 2013 | Categories: Philosophy, Race Reports, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 13 Comments

Transitioning into Ultra-Drive

lone runner on a country road

Last fall I cut more than 12 minutes from my previous best marathon time.  Part of the reason for such improvement was due to increased core and leg strength.  The rest, I am convinced, was because of my glorious summer of ultras.

With such a strong base established, by the time August came around and I was ready to put in 10 solid weeks of specific marathon speed training, my endurance engine was so robust that 26.2 miles at 7-minute pace felt short — exactly what I needed to to run my fastest race.

This year I plan to do even better.  As I have proclaimed before: 2013 is the year I break 3 hours in the marathon.  I hope to do it at Chicago on October 13th.

And so it will be again, with great fervor (and more intelligent training, especially regarding rest/recovery time), that I embark on yet another sunny summer of ultrarunning.  Outside of the occasional fartlek, the next few months will feature mostly long and slow distance runs with a handful of short races thrown in for fun before tackling my summer target event: The Christmas in July 12 Hour Race, organized by my friends and fellow New Leaf Ultra Runners Brian, Ed and Terry.

In addition to the above, I am happy to announce that my personal training business, Iron Lung Fitness, is sponsoring Anastasia “Supergirl” Rolek’s 2013 Midwest Grandslam of Ultrarunning bid.  Supergirl has graced these pages many times and I know she will represent ILF with the same focus and strength she does all of her events.  Go SUPERGIRL!

But perhaps the most exciting development of this upcoming summer of ultras is the fact that I have TWO premier pacing positions to fill.  The first will come June 1st and 2nd as I pace my friend Jen during the Kettle Moraine 100 Mile Endurance Run.  Jen is a tough, focused athlete who trains with me, so I know getting to the finish line will be top priority for both of us.

Then, at the end of June, Siamak, another friend of mine and recurring Run Factory persona, will be taking on the biggest, baddest, most historic 100 mile race in the entire western hemisphere: THE WESTERN STATES 100 MILE ENDURANCE RUN!!!

And yep, you guessed it.  I am the lucky fella who will pace him to the finish!  Indeed, making sure Siamak circles the track at Placer High School will be my sole reason to live come the weekend of June 29th.

Running! If there’s any activity happier, more exhilarating, more nourishing to the imagination, I can’t think of what it might be. In running the mind flees with the body, the mysterious efflorescence of language seems to pulse in the brain, in rhythm with our feet and the swinging of our arms.

–Joyce Carol Oates

The weather has turned for the better, my legs are feeling fresh and I welcome the mysterious efflorescence of language to pulse in my brain alongside my constantly moving feet.

Posted by  |  May 1, 2013 | Categories: Philosophy, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

New England Love: A Special 2013 Boston Marathon Race Report

319951_10151398455934436_529737444_nLife feels different today.

I’m more aware.  I’m more sensitive.  I’m more than grateful that my loved ones and I are alive and well.

Today, I should be celebrating my first Boston Marathon finish with friends and family over drinks and laughs.  I should be clinking glasses to mark overcoming a lengthy IT band injury.  I should be fist-bumping my pals to commemorate my very first negative split.  Instead, I find myself deeply saddened by yesterday’s tragic and cowardly acts.  I find myself questioning humanity, wondering how someone could be so evil and so spineless as to hurt such a mass of innocents on Patriots’ Day, a day that traditionally brings so much love and joy to New England and all those who choose to be in and around Boston to run the world’s most prestigious and historic marathon.

Today, like much of the world, I am in mourning.

“If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon.”

–Katherine Switzer, the first woman to run the Boston Marathon

Because of this mourning, and because so many families find themselves in pain today, I feel it would be insensitive and trivial to craft my typical first person progressive play-by-play race report.  At the same time, I think it would be equally insensitive to altogether forgo any writings on my experience, which is why I want to take a moment to applaud and recognize the people who really make the Boston Marathon such a world class event: the people of Hopkinton, Ashland, Framingham, Natick, Wellesley, Newton, Brookline and Boston.  These are the same people who cheered me on as I crossed the finish line, the same people now gone or severely injured.  These are the people who deserve our recognition: the good people of New England.

The minute I arrived in the Commonwealth, I was welcomed with friendly smiles and a never ending stream of “good luck at the race!”  The people of Boston know how serious the Boston Marathon is and they recognize the diligence and hard work necessary to even qualify for such an event.  They know that theirs is special and that to just participate requires tireless hours of perseverance and determination.  They know this.  They respect this.  And they go out of their way to make us runners, coming from all corners of the globe, feel special and welcome.

From the good folks at the expo and the people at the hotel, to the waitstaff at restaurants and strangers on the street, I couldn’t walk 50 meters without someone wishing me well on the upcoming race.  I was told prior to arriving that that would be exactly how I would be received, but I didn’t believe it until it actually happened.

Such welcoming arms made me feel special, made me feel comfortable.  I wanted to run well, not only for myself, but for all of those who welcomed me with such warm, open hearts.

During the race, I was even more surprised at how many loving supporters came out to cheer us on.  From the very beginning in Hopkinton, all the way up Route 135 and into Boston, I ran on the deafening cheers of happy, smiling strangers.  Thinking that I might need a boost of encouragement at some point during the race, I wore my singlet with my last name (Lung) sprawled across my chest.  Instead what I received was 26.2 miles of “Go, Lung!”, “Lookin’ good, Lung!” and “You can do it, Lung!”, an auditory pleasantry that, even now recalling this, brings tears to my eyes.

But perhaps what impressed me most about this race experience was the pure love and joy along the course evident by how many families were out, together, celebrating the marathon and all it represents as a metaphor for life.  I saw so many young children and so many packs of friends and family united together, taking part in what has always been a great day to commemorate the human spirit.

That contagious and joyous energy forced me to hug the left side of the course, where I incessantly fed off the endless support and continuous high-fives from strangers.  I ran most of the Boston Marathon without thinking about my legs because I didn’t have to.  I had the crowd to ride on.

My finish was truly special, something I will never forget.  I was told that once I saw the Citgo sign I would be on the home stretch.  I saw it and suddenly my fatigue disappeared.  I became another person.  I sped up.  I still had a couple of miles to go, so I tried to hold back the tears of joy coming in response to being on the cusp of finishing the World Series of marathons, but I knew it was coming and I was overcome with happiness.

When I came down Boylston, heading towards the finish, I made sure to take it all in.  The crowd noise was deafening, but I heard just enough “GO LUNG”s to really kick it up a notch.  In the last 385 yards, I smiled so big my cheeks hurt.  I was in complete awe of the finish line celebration — the grandstands, the waves of people, the copious amounts of LOVE.

To know that just an hour and a half later that exact location that provided me with such everlasting memories of love, triumph and joy would be a murder scene more heinous than one could ever imagine, makes me sad beyond description.  My heart aches for all of those families affected by this tragedy and I desperately wish I could take away their pain.

While there might not be much I can do to accomplish that exact sentiment, I am determined to rise up with my Boston brothers and sisters.  I have decided I will re-qualify for the Boston Marathon.  I will be back to show my love and support for the very city that was selfless in supporting me and my efforts.  I will smile more.  I will welcome strangers to my city.  I will tell my people I love them.

My dad and I were lucky to have been near Fenway Park, about a mile and a half away from the finish line when the blasts occurred.  We saw the bee line of state troopers on motorcycles fly by, but didn’t really know what was going on until we crossed the river and were in Cambridge heading back to our hotel when a kind Bostonian stopped us to let us know there had been some sort of attack.  The immediate fear and chaos forced us to stay in and watch the news all night, relaying to our friends and family back home that we were indeed safe as best we could.

To say that we are lucky sounds a bit trite, but it is the truth.  Both of us are back in our respective homes now, safe and in perfect health.  The same cannot be said for Martin Richard.  It cannot be said for Krystle Campbell, nor Lu Lingzu.  It cannot be said for the 170+ innocent people injured during this cowardly crime.

“Boston is a tough and resilient town, so are its people. I’m supremely confident that Bostonians will pull together, take care of each other, and move forward as one proud city and as they do, the American people will be with them every single step of the way.”

–President Obama

Regardless of one’s political philosophy, the above statement is absolutely true.  I experienced the Bostonian spirit firsthand, and I promise I will experience it again.  We, as mindful human beings, will band together and we will always overcome the hatred of a few.

No amount of cowardice will ever stop that.

Posted by  |  April 16, 2013 | Categories: Philosophy, Race Reports | Tags: , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

Follow That Unicorn!

BM_YEAR_ONLYWhen I first took up running a few years ago, qualifying for the storied Boston Marathon seemed about as realistic as making out with Mila Kunis.  This seemed especially true after barely completing my first marathon in just under a grueling 4 hours.

Well, maybe it’s time to give Mila a call.

In eleven days, I will take my rightful place among the upper echelon of marathoners whose communal zenith rests atop the peak of Heartbreak Hill and reaches maximum dopamine levels somewhere along Boylston Street.  To say I’m excited about the impending experience would be quite an understatement.

Considering how hard I worked to get to this point, I decided to take some vacation time so I can really soak it all in.  Soon I’ll be heading to New York before making my way to Boston where my ultimate crew chief and number one fan (my dad) will meet me.

Clam chowder, Sam Adams and Red Sox baseball all await.

Despite my training leading up to this race being limited due to the ITBS issues I’ve been battling since late last year, I am still determined to have a great time, to be present throughout it all.  Instead of firing out of the gates hellbent on setting a personal best, I’ve decided to lay back into an easy, comfortable pace for the first half and decide from there whether or not going into a higher gear will be possible.  Recent efforts would suggest I should be able to run Boston somewhere around 3:20 to 3:30, but I really won’t know until race day.  If I am slower than that, that’s cool too, as long as I leave with a unicorn around my neck.

Considering how different this race plan is compared to all those I’ve run before, I think it will take more discipline and concentration than I’m used to.

But I’m always ready for a challenge.

And Mila Kunis.

mila kunis jeff meme

Posted by  |  April 4, 2013 | Categories: Injury, Philosophy, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Trail Running Is Messy and So Is Life: The 2013 Paleozoic Trail Runs 25K Race Report

paleozoicTrail_150There was a time in my life when I would have done all I could to avoid any type of mess — either real-world or proverbial.

Then I became a runner.

Nowadays, mud spattered tights and mucus crusted gloves are as common for me as bloody nipples and permastink-laden technical tees.

Meh, so what. As long as I’m having fun, right?

And boy did I have some fun on Saturday, March 16, 2013 whilst gliding, sliding, hurdling and traversing the ever treacherous and never clean Paleozoic Trail Runs 25K race course at the nearby forest preserve of Palos Heights.  For me, the fun began before the race even started because I was at an event where I knew A TON OF PEOPLE!  Having been a part of the trail and ultrarunning community for a couple of years now, I really feel like a part of the family.  And that’s what the local New Leaf Ultra Runs group is to me: family.  We run together, we get dirty together, we laugh together.  That many smiling faces, firm handshakes and strong fist bumps is enough to make one’s day.  Running the race was just extra.

And, to be honest, it was a bit confusing as well, but there were many reasons for this.  As an inaugural event, I expected some obstacles outside of those offered by the freeze-to-thaw-to-freeze-back-to-thaw terrain.  There was some uncertainty about course markings (weather washed a lot of them away).  One of the aid stations wasn’t there when I got to it.  I had a guy running a few inches off my heels for three quarters of the race.  And I was trying to take it easy because a few days prior I aggravated my right ITB running intervals.

But I had a fantastic time in the cold, soupy weather, surrounded by good friends and warm community.  I’m going to skip my regular play-by-play reporting of this race because all of the confusion caused by my missing a turn, adding mileage where it shouldn’t have been and then stopping to scratch my head a few times sort of took me out of my normal thinking patterns and now when I think back to the race all I can remember is putting one foot forward through muddy muck with a great big I-don’t-know-where-the-heck-I-am-going smile on my face.

When I finished, my Garmin read 1:55:47, but only 14.29 miles, a bit short of the stated 25K (15.5 miles).  Upon further review, I missed a section near Bull Frog Lake but added some mileage on the east loop.  All in all, I was still tired when I finished and I crossed the line with a healthy ITB/knee.

And oh yeah, this time I beat Peter Sagal (maybe? I dunno, after my misguided route maybe I didn’t).  Still, I enjoyed chatting with him this go around, as he was quite lost too.  In fact, I think everyone was lost at one point or another.

But I will be back next year.  No doubt about it.

Meanwhile, Boston is just four weeks away…

***

For an excellent recap on this race, check out Dan Solera’s entry, where I make a special cameo alongside everyone’s favorite beer racer, Otter.

Posted by  |  March 18, 2013 | Categories: Injury, Philosophy, Race Reports, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Six Weeks to Beantown and Finally Baaaaack!

883039_10200637160601538_324846676_o

Patriot’s Day is only six weeks away, which means my long awaited dance with the World Series of marathons will soon be a dream come true.  The natural excitement and nervous energy that come along with it will only escalate.

But I’m down with that.

Yesterday I nailed a 16 mile long run with 11 miles at 7:15 pace, with no aches or pains — yet another promising sign that my ITB issues are finally far off in the background.  I wasn’t going to celebrate my lack of ITBS symptoms until I was able to sustain a good month of dedicated speed and hill training alongside the general aerobic long runs that are the staple of any solid marathon training plan.

Five weeks and counting, no residual aches, pains or soreness.  I’m feeling damn good.

My buildup for this race, albeit unorthodox due to the limited training and mileage prescribed by coming off of a serious injury, has been about as much as I could ask for.  I’m not overdoing it.  I’m resting when my body directs me.  But most of all, I’ve adjusted my mind to allow for a fun, possibly once-in-a-lifetime race experience.  Rather than being hellbent on time goals, I’m focusing on toeing the line healthy,  ready to deliver on whatever my body seems capable of on April 15, 2013.

This is in large contrast to my normal marathon training as I’m a bit of a perfectionist.  I instinctively marry myself to routine, to nailing splits, to chasing down the guy ahead of me.  And while I know quite well that outside of myself, not one single person on the planet really cares what time I get when crossing the finish line, I still feel like if I don’t throw down a personal best in every race then I’m not doing it right.

WRONG.

I’ve set some modest goals for Boston 2013.  I haven’t regained my Chicago 2012 fast legs yet, but I’d like to finish somewhere between a 3:15 and 3:30, mindful of the fact that finishing and living in the moments presented by the most storied marathon in the world are, above all else, the most important things.  If, on race day, my abilities push me beyond the 3:30 mark, then so be it.  I vow to cross the line with a smile and a triumphant fist.

The cliche “it’s not the destination that matters but the journey” comes to mind.  In my case, the journey has been profound in what it has revealed about me, about how I handle adversity both instinctively and through contemplation.

For someone like me, opportunities like running the Boston Marathon are certainly the exception, not the norm.  I will treat the experience as exceptional, from Hopkinton to Boylston Street, and everywhere in between.

Posted by  |  March 4, 2013 | Categories: Philosophy, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Running with a Mind Full of Bach

bach with shadesI still belong to one of those good old fashioned email listservs.  It’s one that I have been a part of for a long time now — one I look forward to every afternoon; but at the same time it sort of stresses me out.  It stresses me out on a very superficial level, I admit, but still, stress is stress.

To be more accurate, this daily email often overwhelms me more than anything, as it generally features 20-40 individual links to the hottest news stories of the day.  These often include fascinating scientific breakthroughs, underground and outside mainstream opinion pieces and lots and lots of pictures of cats.  Rarely am I able to read/view every single one of them.  There just isn’t enough time!

Take the above alongside my afternoon dose of front-to-back Chicago Tribune reading, a neverending stream of Google Reader aggregated posts from my 100+ favorite blogs and the bevy of Facebook/Twitter feed links and articles being thrown my way every two seconds and I find myself actively vetting my reading material based on how sexy a URL may read.

There is just too much information out there — information I think I want! — attacking me via my laptop, my desktop, my phone, my other laptop and my BRAIN!  If I’m not careful, I become Fred Armisen, trapped in a technology loop:


Sometimes I get trapped in there, for very long, uncomfortable periods of time.

Running is the antidote.

Of course, I can’t always be running, or exercising for that matter.

Enter Johann Sebastian Bach.


I have long been acquainted with the works of Bach.  In high school and college I often cursed his named, wondering if he had ever even bothered to try singing one of his own tenor fugue creations.  People have to breathe, y’know.  Singers really need to breathe.

But sadly, my appreciation for his music never matured beyond the basic acknowledgement of his reinterpretation of what music could and should be.  I knew all the greats (Mozart, Chopin, Beethoven, etc) looked to him as the godfather of melody — that the foundation for the classical explosion was rooted in the Bach catalogue, but that was about it, and I never bothered to appreciate any of it.

More than a decade later, while circumventing the technology loop with a playlist full of Lady Gaga, Die Antwoord and Modeselektor, body and mind ready to explode from information overload, I stumbled across this:


Instantly, I was at peace.

And I was just getting started.

The last few months have been a joyous trip through the ever uplifting works of J.S. Bach.  From violin concertos to piano sonatas, to choral masses, organ fugues and everything in between, I have become a bonafide believer in the beautiful bounty of Bach.

And the very best part?

Now I am running to Bach.

Not with headphones.  I don’t run with music.  I don’t have to, because Bach is in my head.  It is always there and I am always elated!  No more I’m Henry the Eighth I Am poisoning my psyche.  No more Cotton Eyed Joe, no more Hey Mickey, no more Blue da ba de da ba die stuck on autoloop for miles and miles and miles.

No, sir.

Thanks to the musical genius of J.S. Bach, I am free.  Free at last!

FREE AT LAST!!!

Posted by  |  February 14, 2013 | Categories: Philosophy, Training | Tags: , , , , , , | 10 Comments