Post Mortem on Capitol Peaks 55k

How was the race, you ask. Let me tell you that Capitol Peaks 55 km trail run was no picnic, but I'd do it again in a second. It poured the day before and the trail was slick with mud, covered with puddles and roots, and in parts was deeply rutted from mountain bikes. I fell face first into a mud hole only two miles into the race. Okay, let's get to the stats...according to my GPS Forerunner 310XT, my longest climb was 2,657 feet up Capitol Peak; mile 15.9 of the race. The last quarter mile was quite steep and rocky and not really runable. Total ascent during the 35 miles was 12,411 feet with the same for descent (my elevation chart shown below is in meters). So, I fnished in 7 hours and 24 minutes and placed 9th out of 25women. There were a total of 67 runners participating in the 55 km (87 others ran the 50 mile race and one woman had a cast on each arm). Being the longest event I've ever run and the longest event in terms of time spent continuously engaged (unlike 24 hour relay races), this is another first for me.

I learned a lot from Capitol Peaks. First, I've never experienced low back pain in all my years of road marathons even close the spasms that were hitting me in the last nine miles. Apparently, ultra running on trails is a whole new experience in physical pain. Prior to the race, I understood this from a theoretical standpoint, but feeling it first-hand is a whole different story. Generally, only my legs are super sore from a long run, not my entire body! According to various websites I've scoured since Sunday, it's critical to weight train and strengthen one's upper body for the physical beating offered by trail running, particularly a course boasting significant elevation change. So, I've added two days of weight training to my fifty mile training schedule.

Second, it's been many a marathon since I've experienced the demobilizing lactic acid rush that almost stopped me in my tracks shortly after the last fully stocked aid station. It happened shortly after mile 26 which begs the question - after twenty-plus marathons, is my body simply programmed to run exactly 26.2 miles and not one pitiful, stride-length further? Seems like it. As I waved goodbye to my partner who had agreed to meet me with two miles left, I tried to trot a few feet and each of my thighs suddenly felt like fifty pounds of cement. I slowly moved forward back into the woods. Soon afterwards I approached a nasty climb in the afternoon sun, and I walked almost the entire hill. On the flats, I was able to run a bit, or rather shuffle sluggishly. The downhills were also runable but had their own special 'downhill' pain characterized by a sharp zinging in my thighs. I imagined tiny, but very heavy, Gremlins riding atop my legs. They had little, scissor-hands and, now done pouring all that cement into me, were visciously pinching my upper legs with every footfall and giggling in high-pitched voices.

Third, unlike the above distressing lessons, I learned semething positive about food intake (I have to admit, food is never distressing to me even when I'm otherwise in pain). With road marathons I'm generally good to go with two packets of GU. Here, I ate at every aid station and my intake totaled four quarter PBJ sandwiches, three large bananna chunks, 4 blocks of ShotBlocks, several pretzels and 1/2 packet of GU. Historically, running marathons, I've had a touchy stomach and vomited at the finish line my share of the time. Actually, once I lost it on my cousin's prize roses at mile 19 of the Twin Cities Marathon, but that's another story. Anyway, eating more food may help my stomach because it was my only body part, or so it seemed, that was not screaming at me by mile thirty.

Fourth, I now understand why walking is necessary for all but the front-runners in an ultramarathon. For much of the race I was exchanging places with a younger man. He would pass me on the downhills, and I would catch him repeatedly on the uphills while he walked and I ran. The last time I saw him was shortly after my break down following mile 26. He cooly breezed ahead maintaining his earlier easy stride while I struggled to move my legs. I need to practice walking up hills and running down, and I need to start walking within the first few miles of the race...not at 26.2.

Finally, it was wonderful to see my partner at mile 33 and run (ie. slowly trudge) the last two miles together. Among other things, she was clean, alert and didn't seem to have Gremlins hanging from her, and listening to her speak coherently helped me resist the urge to trip a younger, female runner who, after trailing me for 17 miles, passed me with under a mile to go. Is tripping allowed in ultras? Maybe I'll research that for my next post.

Here are the Garmin stats: Untitled by anne.johnson1 at Garmin Connect - Details

Tampering with Tapering

I love and loathe final week tapering. I embrace not running (much) for days, eating well, and knowing that I'm in relatively enviable shape. Yet, I despise not running (much) for days, over-indulging, and feeling like I'm losing my conditioning virtually overnight.

The week before my February marathon, I broke most tapering rules. Tapering Rule Number 1: Make sure you have diligently and dutifully followed your Hal Higdon 18 week intermediate marathon training schedule. This winter, I hadn't trained to run a marathon period, and my sole long run was 14.2 miles six days before the event (if you're paying attention you'll notice that there are two tapering violations embedded here).

Tapering Rule Number 2: The final week should be restful, allowing your muscles to heal from any minor training injuries and prepare for the big event. Sigh. I play women's hockey (albeit not very well) and had a 10:45 p.m. game three nights pre-race. Hockey is a sprint sport. The hardest part about a sprint endeavor ending around midnight on a work night, is that it's impossible to fall asleep before 3:00 a.m. despite my swishing down 1500 mg of IBprofen and some over-the-counter sleeping pills with a healthy glass or two of Malbec.

Tapering Rule Number 3: If you haven't put in the miles, are overly tired or ill, a runner should seriously consider not participating in the event. At least I had made a lame effort with this rule. Initially I let common sense govern and had registered for the 25k option. However, in my sleep deprived state two days before the run I received the final pre-event e-mail, and it clarified that only marathon finishers merited a race t-shirt. Well, what's with that?

My tapering for the 50k classic ski race in the Canadian Yukon in March was just as deplorable except that I had three late hockey games in the preceding week. Plus, I got stuck playing center (sprint sport squared), and stuck with a blotchy, purplish bruise on my lower right cheek. The positive side of all that pre-race, hyperkinetic insomnia is that I weighed in under 130 for the first time in several years. Sadly, dramatic weight loss during the final week preceding an endurance event is, yes you guessed it, another tapering violation.

What's ahead? I have a 55k trail race this weekend, and I know this aging body with experience a new level of agony. So, to prepare last week I ran 24 miles including a 1700 foot climb to the local ski area (yes - tapering violation galore!). But, all of these violations after years of towing the marathon training line, is sort of freeing. Actually, it's damned freeing! It's like showing up at the office buck naked...or buck naked but for a pair of muddy Gel Kayanos.

Be Free and Run Your Trails with Abandon,
AJ

Ultras after 45

In four short years, I'll turn 50 and on my 50th birthday will face the fact that I may be past mid-life. At that point, I'll have to justify my impulsive and impractical decisions using words other than "I'm in mid-life crisis...what do you expect?" The phrase worked after I quit my corporate job as an attorney. I used it again with my partner of several years as I departed for Bangkok, and again as I signed on for a stint working with elephants and tigers in the jungle near Myanmar. Later the same explanation allowed me to mountain bike 1500 miles around New Zealand, unsupported. And, my aging parents accepted it as I loaded up a U-Haul for my move to Alaska from a relatively large, predictable Midwestern city.

So, I'm 46 and healthy. I live in Juneau, Alaska surrounded by mountains and glaciers, with tide-water ebbing and flowing beneath our back deck. Juneau boasts some of the world's most beautiful scenery if you can catch it during the forty or so days of sun we have per year. Southeast Alaska is a perfect place for distance runners, hikers, and back country skiers. The summer temps hang around 55 degrees and the winter temps are just below freezing.

Last fall I completed my 20th marathon in Victoria, B.C. (www.royalvictoriamarathon.com). Victoria is a lovely city, and October marathons are my favorites. Anyway, I needed a new goal and started toying with the idea of running an ultra. So, I started thinking about distance and how to increase time on my feet. In February, on my way to the winter Olympics in Vancouver, with one skate ski race under my belt, I completed a marathon near Bellingham. I hadn't run more than 14 miles since Victoria, so I intentionally focused on slowing down my pace to almost 10 minute miles. It was a lovely winter day with temps in the mid-50's. Two loops around a large bay with one or two hills of note but otherwise fairly flat. I finished in time to catch my bus to Vancouver and with the help of the marathon was able to sit through 5 days of watching other people (much faster and more athletic than me) pushing for gold.

One month later (March 2010) I skied a 50k classic event in the Canadian Yukon. Juneau didn't have a great year for snow and my training consisted of one 24 mile ski and a few shorter skis mainly during snow/rain storms. My dog injured himself a couple of weeks before the event, and I was forced to ski alone at night in the mountains. It's much lonelier skiing in driving wind, snow pellets and darkness than having your four-legged buddy racing around like it's the best day of his life.

Next weekend another month will have passed and I'm hoping to complete a 55km trail running event in Washington. Again, my training is marginal but my spirit is strong. I just finished "Born to Run," by Christopher McDougall and was thrilled to read that as runners we may peak around thirty, but the decline of a distance runner is remarkably slow and we don't drop back down to our 19-year-old pace until we're in our early 60's. Gotta love that stat! Anyway, I've picked out a 50 mile ultra marathon for August in British Columbia. The snow is melting off the local trails. Soon I'll put away my skis and skins for good and switch to running, hiking and biking.

See you on the trails,
AJ