Blarney! Recap of the Leprechaun Loop 8K

St. Patrick's Day was appropriately green and filled with allergenic pollen in Davidson this year.  It also marked Summit Coffee's 1st annual Leprechaun Loop 8K, the 1st race in the coffee shop's newly minted Twilight Racing Series.  An impressive 250 runners showed up to kick off the series right.  Among them was local Olympian Anthony Famiglietti (FAM), and nearly a dozen other members of Davidson Area Running Team (DART).  Summit owner Tim Helfrich and his brother Brian--both fellow DARTers--were the RDs for the event, and they were kind enough to share a map of the course to our running group a couple weeks in advance.  Like a handful of others, I capitalized on the nepitism/homefield advantage and previewed the course a few times, including once at tempo pace to emulate race conditions.  As other DARTers surely would agree, previewing the course may have added race-specific knowledge, but only solidified the intimidation of the elevation profile.

The potentially stormy, surely humid forecast turned gave way to relatively merciful race conditions.  It was still hot and humid, but the sun dipped behind a cloud bank moments before the start and stayed there for most of the race.  While a breeze might have been refreshing, there was no danger of a headwind on what was already a challenging course.  I nestled into a group near the line that included fellow DARTers Dave Munger, Tommy Wagoner, Bryan Massingayle, Jordan Duvall, and newly introduced Peter Browne.  My pre-race prediction was that Dave and Tommy would be duking it out the whole way, both finishing a minute or so ahead of me.  Bryan, despite being a fast marathoner, was getting over a feverish crud, so I figured I could hold my own with him for 5 miles.  I didn't know what to expect of Peter; my only clue about him was that he was a 3 hour marathoner, so I wasn't too worried about keeping pace with him.

Runners at the gun.  Photo courtesy of Chad Randolph.

At the sound of the siren, FAM shot out ahead as everyone knew he would.  A dozen or so runners flew by me, including Tommy, who quickly advanced to a 10 second lead on me.  The 1st half mile was practically all downhill, so even though I had to settle my self down in order to save my energy, I still clocked a sub-6 minute/mile pace without really thinking about it.  Speed got a little more manageable as we picked up the sidewalk next to Griffith Street.  Tommy stayed within sight, and Peter pulled alongside me.  Shortly after turning left past the Davidson Charter School, Peter passed me at the 1 mile mark.  My split was 6:09. 

A left on Faust and another left on Catawba brought us to a long straightaway that led back towards Main Street.  Dave passed me here and looked to be keeping a manageably quick pace.  He stayed in reach, and Tommy stayed in sight, but Peter and I kept leap-frogging around each other.  After a quick detour onto Potts, I hopped ahead of Peter and waved at my cheering wife.  Chad Randolph was on the other side of the street to catch a photo of us around mile 1.5.

Me at mile 1.5 with Pete hot on my heels.  Photo courtesy of Chad Randolph.

A left on Main and a right on Walnut wrapped up the 2nd mile (6:30) and led to the longest sustained downhill of the course.  Dave was fewer than 2 strides ahead of me, so I leaned into the decent on Walnut and passed him as we hung a left on Mimosa.  A right turn on South Street gave us a couple hundred more yards of nice downhill, so I honed in on Tommy, who was fading back to me.  Tommy was tenacious, and it took the length of the hill to finally pass him as we angled left onto the greenway. 

Back to reality.  As the greenway leveled out and gave way to Avinger at mile marker 3 (I forget my split at this point), I was aware I had a lot of negative elevation I would have to gain back. This stretch of road was a real pace killer.  Another runner in my age group passed me here and stayed in front of me for the remainder of the race.  I pushed for an even effort and reminded myself that this gradual climb would be an easy spot to lose any semblance of a lead I might have gained on my competitors.  I did not hear anyone directly behind me, so I set my eyes upon the next intersection.  A left on Pine offered some reprieve: I went from uphill to slightly less uphill.  I had done mile repeats for speed work on this particular stretch of road a few times, so it felt comfortable to gun the throttle a little bit.  Fellow DARTer Marc Hirschfield stood by at my next turn onto Lorimer halfway through the 4th mile and snapped a picture of me as I thumbs-up'd by.


Me at mile 3.5.  I look better than I feel.  Photo courtesy of Marc Hirschfield.

 On many races and training runs, Lorimer would be the last stretch before the finish, but not so with the Leprechaun Loop.  A left on Woodland aimed me down the last significant downhill the course had to offer.  I leaned into that sucker to milk it for all it was worth, eventually cracking a 5:45 pace by the time I hit the bottom.  Woodlawn turned right onto Spring Street, which led straight uphill--penance for the sinful downhill I had just run.  It was not a long ascent, but it slowed me to a more humble 7:15 pace by the time I reached the top.  I crossed over South Street within shouting distance of the finish line and continued down Spring to a short, jarring downhill that did little more than set me off balance before doglegging around toward my next intersection.  A right turn on Goodrum gave me a steep 100 yards of loose gravel driveway to climb before I would reach South Street one last time. 

At the end of Goodrum, my legs were trashed, but I had a few hundrend more yards of uphill running on South St. between me and the finish line.  the volunteers had stopped traffic for me, only to let the driver continue on the road right behind me.  Nothing goads your pace like a car chasing you!  My wife was cheering me from the sidewalk as the finish line approached.  When I saw the gun clock tick over to 31:50, I gunned it into a full-tilt sprint in an effort to break 32 minutes.  My official time was 31:57, a 6:26 overall pace.  I dropped my hands onto my knees to suck in some air before my wife rewarded me with some green beads in the spirit of the holiday.  Peter finished after me, followed in short order by Dave, Tommy, and Bryan.  All looked as out-of-breath as me.  FAM already was doing some cool-down strides.  He had fnished 4 minutes ahead of the second place runner with an unfathomable 23:56.  Heidi and I grabbed some water and coffee inside Summit before partaking in the post-race festivities. I later found out that I finished 10th overall out of nearly 250 runners.  Woohoo!

Relaxing inside Summit Coffee after the race and sporting some St. Patty's Day beads.

 One of my goals for the year is to race a 10K in under 40 minutes.  If I could keep this race's pace for another 1.2 miles, I would just barely be able to do it.  All I need to do is find a more forgiving course, but I'm certainly hungry for it!  I will keep readers posted as my progress towards that goal develops.

My Green Inov-8 Bare-X 150s

Gear used:
--Inov-8 Bare-X 150: a zero-drop, sub-6 ounce racing flat.  Lots of ground feel, very quiet, and super fast.  These will be my go-to road racers for anything short of 10K.
--Racing singlet by Reckless Running: lightweight and comfortable.  I almost forgot I was wearing a singlet.  The royal blue color really pops too.

Next on my race calendar:

 

5/6/12: Long Cane 50K, Abbeville, SC

9/7-8/12: Blue Ridge Relay (maybe), Boone/Asheville, NC

9/29-30/12: Hinson Lake 24 Hour Classic, Rockingham, NC

 

Fall Road marathon TBD

WTF is "Minimalist" anyway?

It goes without saying that when you are a part of a social running group, many of the mid-run or virtual conversations revolve around footwear.  Everyone has an opinion about what is best for most, or works for some, or causes injury, etc., but I fear the tag words we use (and misuse) are causing a lot of misunderstandings in the running community.  Therefore, I have promised some of my running friends that I would blog my 2 cents.

Minimalism no doubt is a movement that is gaining speed in the running community, even though many runners have been running barefoot or nearly barefoot for many years.  As with any runaway trend, manufacturers are quick to jump on the bandwagon and slap the popular label on their latest products, whether they embody the true nature of the paradigm shift or not.  It harkens to the early 90s, when terms like “grunge” and “alternative” were the sell-sell-sell names for what was just plain rock ‘n roll.  In fit of pop irony, “alternative” became the new mainstream.  I foresee a similar phenomenon happening with the “minimalist” descriptor in terms of running footwear.

NOTE: In the interest of adding to the debate, everything contained in this post hereafter is solely the opinion of the Sockless Runner, who does not pretend to be an authority, but who does feel that he is knowledgeable enough to spark a discussion on minimalism.

What makes a shoe minimalist?  For that matter, what makes a runner minimalist?  Let’s tackle that first.  Not all runners who wear lightweight or minimalist shoes are minimalist runners.  Some runners have found this out about themselves through injury or discomfort.  In order to be a minimalist runner, one must run with a more natural stride, as if one were barefoot.  This involves a quick cadence (180+ steps per minute), a midfoot or forefoot landing directly beneath the hips, an upright posture, and relaxed, flexed joints (no locked knees).  Even some minimalists have a hard time keeping their form correct, this blogger included.  Minimalism discourages over striding and heel striking.  In order to gain more speed, a naturally minimalist runner would lean forward with his or her chest, and let the falling momentum generate more forward energy, rather that shoot the legs way out in front of the hips in order to steal a couple of extra inches on each stride. 

Many barefooters encourage ditching shoes altogether in order to let one’s body find this natural running form, because heel striking is physiologically unnatural and painful to unshod runners.  Said barefooters then suggest moving to minimal or barefoot shoes only after establishing proper form.  The other camp on transitioning to a natural running style favors gradually reducing the cushioning and support of the shoes you chose to wear in order to not shock your joints, muscles, and tendons, which have atrophied and shortened after a lifetime of wearing supportive shoes.  I have used the latter method to make the transition. 

Does this mean that one can run with a natural running style with conventional, cushioned running shoes?  Sure.  In fact, I ran my 1^st marathon and 1^st ultra in cushioned, light stability shoes (Brooks Ravenna for both).  Cushion does allow a runner’s form to slip, though.  In the last 7 or so miles of Frosty 50K, I used a lot of brain energy to concentrate on my form.  Nowadays, no matter how much I used to love my old stability shoes, I just can’t bring myself to run in them anymore.

Ok, so now that we have an idea of what a minimalist running form looks like, we move to the shoes.  I describe a minimalist shoe as having 4 qualities: little or no heel-toe stack height differentiation (0mm-4mm); light weight (<8 ounces per foot); little or no cushioning in the midsole; and extreme flexibility.  The flexibility is important because it allows the muscles in the feet to do their work and become strong, rather than just get pounded by body weight.  If a shoe has 2 or 3 of these characteristics, I would consider it semi-minimalist. 

Some shoes are just plain conventional shoes that adopt 1 or 2 of these traits, but don the “minimalist” moniker.  The Brooks Pure Project and the Saucony Kinvaras come to mind.  I would consider these shoes “transitional,” or just plain light weight.  Conventional runners might call them minimalist, but they would be a lot of shoe for someone like me.  I have a pair of Brooks Pure Flows, and I still use them for long runs, or for recovery when my joints are pounded after a marathon or long race, but they feel comparatively pillowy now, and they don’t turn over as quickly.  They are still a great shoe, and I recommend them for runners looking for a lighter alternative from their conventional trainers, but they are by no means minimalist.

So here’s a list of shoes I either own or have tried, and how I would categorize them:

Minimalist Shoes:

Vibrim FiveFingers, Merrell Barefoot Trail Gloves/Road Gloves, Inov-8 Bare-X series, New Balance Minimus

Semi-Minimalist Shoes:

New Balance MT110, Inov-8 F-Lite series, Altra Instinct, Merrell Bare Access

Transitional Shoes:

Brooks Pure Project series, Saucony Kinvara and Mirage, New Balance MT101, Montrail Rogue Racer, Nike Free

Obviously, I missed quite a few brands (Vivobarefoot, Newton, etc.) but most everything else is a conventionally cushioned trainer. 

That’s my 2 cents.  Make of it what you will.  However I MUST STRESS THIS POINT: if you do want to make the transition to minimalist running, follow the 10% rule and don’t do it too quickly.  Getting injured in the process of a transition would defeat the whole purpose!

Bat Out of Hell; or Umstead Trail Marathon Recap

Dramatis Personae:

Bobby Aswell, Jr., DARTer and veteran of 174 marathons

Val Wrenholt, DARTer and marathoner/ultrarunner

Barefoot Josh, fellow minimalist runner and blogger

Mr. Nathan Vest, an unnamed runner in a Nathan vest

Brandon and Nicholas Teague, a father and son

And Me, Chas

Opossum, rattlesnake, white-tailed deer…what was it going to be this year?  Every year, the Umstead Trail Marathon race directors choose a different animal to be the race mascot .  This “critter” goes on the race T-shirts and becomes the shape for the winners’ plaques that go to the 1^st 15 male and female finishers.  This mascot is a closely guarded secret until packet pick-up.  Upon arriving at Great Outdoor Provision Company in Raleigh on the eve of the race, I was happy to see that 2012 was to be the Year of the Bat.  Awesome!  To paraphrase fellow DART member Bobby Aswell, we were going to be running like a bat out of hell!

I chose UTM for my Spring marathon for 4 reasons: It was close; the field was limited to a small size; it was on trails; and it was notoriously difficult.  The rainy weather and overnight thunderstorms played a key role in determining my goals for the day.  First and foremost, I was out to set a PR.  Despite unforgiving reputation of this race, I was in a lot better shape than when I ran Thunder Road 4 months earlier, and I still believed I performed well within my limits in Charlotte.  I figured I could power through the trails and truly test myself at Umstead.  On a clear, cool day, I would have shot for 3:40, but given the conditions, I would have been very happy with anything close to 3:45.

I showed up at William B. Umstead State Park in plenty of time to get a good parking spot next to the race HQ and get my gear in order.  Then I relaxed next to the cozy fireplace while the other 175 racers trickled in and got ready.  It looked like the day was going to be overcast and cool, with intermittent light rain—great weather for running, if only the footing wasn’t so mucky.  As the HQ became more and more crowded, I stashed my jacket and stepped out for a half-mile jog to get the blood moving.  Everything felt great that morning.  I was extremely happy with my training, and I was itching to race.  Bobby Aswell showed up 30 minutes before the race, and I joined him for a little more of leg-stretching jog. 

As the field gathered around the starting area, I saw quite a few race shirts with previous Umstead critters on them: flying squirrels, horseflies, frogs, turtles, and many of 2011’s ticks.  There were a lot of UTM veterans who were coming back for more.  I recognized one of the “ticks” as Barefoot Josh, an entertaining runner/blogger with whom I share similar sensibilities when it comes to minimalist running.  I introduced myself and had a brief conversation about the course, footwear, and other runners we might both know, and then settled next to him to wait for the start. 

The race began with a few hoots and hollers, but then the sound quickly blended into splashy footfalls and steady breathing.  Barefoot Josh and about 40 other runners shot out ahead of me.  I took advantage of the gently hilled, open bridle trail to set a quick and comfortable 8-minute pace, and I let anyone and everyone faster than that blow right by me.  The nature of this course allowed for several out-and-back portions, so I would see everyone in the field again at least once or twice. 

Shortly after the 1^st mile marker, the course took us into the 1^st of 3 single track sections.  It felt great to jump into the trees and hop around over roots and rocks.  I passed several runners in the 1^st few hundred yards of single track, and continued to reel in runners for the next few miles.  I dug into the ascents and shot for equal effort, but I rode the downhills like a roller coaster and moved further and further up in the field.  After about 3 miles, I slinked around a runner wearing a Nathan gear vest, but I continued to hear his breathing for the remainder of that leg of the race.  As soon as we broke out onto the bridle trails, I angled to the side to catch the 1^st water stop.  Mr. Nathan Vest had a handheld bottle, so he shot past me and sped down the long hill ahead.  I kept him in my sights.  Running downhill had been a training focus of mine over the past few weeks.  Rather than leaning back and letting my legs absorb the shock of the descent, I leaned my chest forward and kept my forefeet landing directly beneath my hips to maintain a fast turnover.  Nathan Vest shot into the next single track leg at the bottom of the hill.  I was 10 seconds behind him.  As soon as I hit the trees, I locked on to Nathan Vest and started closing.  I shot past him around a tree in the middle of the path.  “Alright!” he exclaimed, clearly happy to have a footrace going on between us.  “Let’s not do this all day,” I jested. 

I saw Mr. Aswell through the trees 15 seconds ahead of me, and I was closing on him.  Something had to be wrong; either I was running to fast, or Bobby was not having his best day on the trails.  If there was one runner with whom I knew better to compete, it was Bobby, so I was content to stay in his shadow all day if I needed to.  Bobby continued to fade back to me, and I spent the better part of a mile just a couple strides behind him.  At mile 5, he moved aside for me to pass, and I took the opening.  After all, how many times will I get to pass Bobby Aswell?  The next aid station turned the runners around, so I got a glimpse of the pack leaders.  Barefoot Josh gave me a thumbs-up as he passed me going the other direction.  10 minutes later, we were out in the open on the bridle trails, and I heard familiar footfalls closing in behind me.  As Bobby passed me, I remember thinking, “eh, it was fun while it lasted.”  After mile 6 lay the entrance to the last leg of single track.  “Here we go again with the trails,” Bobby said without all that much enthusiasm.  I followed Bobby onto the treacherous downhill path.  Bobby chose his steps very deliberately, and I was forced to slow down to stay behind him.  He waved me ahead of him once again, and I let it rip down the steep hill.  I passed a few more runners within the next couple of minutes, but then I settled into a long stretch of single track along a quickly flowing creek where I saw no other runners, volunteers, or human beings.  This was my favorite part of the race.  I was almost saddened when I saw the volunteers near mile 8 direct me out of the single track and back onto the wide bridle trails.

Miles 9 and 10 took the course down a long, steady hill, and then up an even longer one.  Another runner passed me strongly on the uphill.  Lo and behold, it was Mr. Nathan Vest.  “This is my favorite hill,” he pronounced as he ran on ahead.  With the mile count still in the single digits, I was content to let him go and keep an equal effort on the climb. He stayed within sight for the next few miles.  At mile 10, the humidity prompted me to roll down my arm sleeves and take off my hat.  No sooner did I do so than it started raining.  Great.  Luckily, the downpour was light and short-lived.  The aid station after the 10^th mile marker had an excited host of volunteers, and an adolescent trumpet player squeaking out the theme to Rocky and other inspirational melodies.

This long stretch of miles included several noteworthy rolling hills.  Having studied the route map a few times, I would be traversing this path backwards on the back end of the race as well, so I made note of what I was in for.  I did my best to maintain a slower-but-equal effort on the climbs, and I leaned into the drops to grab some extra speed where I could while preserving my quads.  At mile 12, I passed Nathan Vest for the last time.  I feel bad for not asking his name if only to see how he finished the race. 

Save for an enthusiastic group of children at the mile 12 aid station, the next couple of miles were hilly and quiet.  The trailblazers and lead runner passed me on the return leg a couple minutes before I reached mile 14.  I estimated the leader was about 2½ miles ahead of me.  As more runners came towards me, I counted them out loud to keep track of where I was in the field and the give them a clue of their positions.  Barefoot Josh was 10 minutes ahead of me in 9^th place (a position he would maintain until the end of the race).  When I reached the turnaround, I had counted 21 men and 1 woman ahead of me.  As I headed back uphill towards the long return through the rolling hills, I continued to count for a while.  I thumbs-up’d Bobby, who was the 25^th overall male at that time.  15 miles down.

The return leg through the rolling hills kept me a little more on my toes because I was passing by almost the entire racing field.  Many had encouraging words, and all of them wore smiles.  This just speaks to the higher level of camaraderie one finds at these lower key trail races compared to some of the big crowd road races.  The hills were still there, no matter how much I had hoped they would erode with the rain.  The downhills were shakier, but still fast, and the uphills were a little less forgiving this time around.  By mile 18, I still had plenty of energy, but my legs were starting to feel a little worked.  I motored on and started thinking of the next aid station, ignoring the fact that I had 8 miles left to run. 

At 19.5 miles, I returned to the same aid station from mile 10, and the young trumpeter was still tooting out the hits.  The hip abductors were talking to me now.  In the past, my knees, quads, and feet were my pain pockets after a long run, but all of those pieces felt reassuringly good.  Now I was getting a pain in my butt.  My calves, well, they were shredded.  After all, it is a hilly, hilly course.  Here lay the aforementioned long downhill followed by a long uphill, but in reverse.  I struggled to keep my form clean and lean into the descent to grab some momentum, but it took me nearly the length of the hill to crack a solid 8 minute pace.  Going up the long hill offered the cruelest reward of all: a right turn onto the infamous Cedar Ridge portion of the course.  Like most of the route, this 3 mile out-and-back section was a decently wide bridle trail, but instead of fine gravel and hard-packed dirt, the surface consisted of small rocks and pebbles—no good for pace or comfort.  Cedar Ridge trail rolled up and down gently, and I saw the leaders pass by me again looking a bit worn out.  I did not bother to count this time.  The climb up to the aid station at the beginning of Cedar Ridge depleted me.  Now I was bonked out, hurting, and demoralized.  With 4 miles remaining, I looked down the course’s most notorious hill (Graveyard Hill), dreading the fact that after I descend it, I would have to climb it once again.  Some of the leaders were walking slowly up the hill, and I knew I could not fathom the idea of running up it.  As I plodded my way down the hill and trudged to the turnaround, I remembered Bobby’s remark about the race mascot.  If we truly were bats out of hell, this certainly was hell, and I had to fly out of it. 

Once I approached the steep incline of Graveyard Hill, I automatically settled into a walk, pushing down on my legs with my arms as I went.  The 2 minute climb to the top offered some respite, but my body was reluctant to settle back into a running stride.  Shortly after mile 24, I made it once again to the Cedar Ridge aid station—the last aid station before the finish line.  “Water or Gatorade?” asked the volunteer.  “Yes,” I replied.  I grabbed both cups and halted to a standstill to enjoy the fluid.  Fellow DARTer Val Wrenholt arrived at the aid stop just after me and helped herself to a couple of Gatorades as well.  I had never met Val, so she introduced herself.  The last couple miles of a grueling race are a great place to meet a fellow member of your local running club.  I ate my last gel of the day, more to keep myself busy than to benefit from the energy.  After enough of prolonging the inevitable, I beckoned to Val, “you ready?”  We eased into a slow run and headed down the trail towards where it all began. 

At mile 25.5 was the sickest joke of all.  I gazed up 600 meters of incline where 3 runners ahead in the distance were reduced to a walk.  At the base of the hill was a modest sign that read “Welcome to Cemetery Hill.”  I ran all of 10 steps and walked the rest of it.  Val summoned the will to run the last half of Cemetery Hill and leave me in the dust (err…mud).  Val went on to finish 3 minutes ahead of me and placed 2^nd for females.  Awesome!  Way to go, Val!  A right turn at the top of Cemetery Hill led me to the final stretch.  When I saw mile marker 26 and glimpsed the finish line through the trees, I opened up into a full stride, ignoring the pain in my legs.  I pumped one fist in the air as I crossed the finish line at 3 hours, 48 minutes, and 3 seconds.  I was 21^st overall (19^th male) out of 169 finishers, and I had set a new marathon PR by over 4 minutes—on a MUCH more difficult course, I might add.  I hobbled into the HQ to grab my camera phone in an attempt to catch Bobby’s finish, but the darn thing would not start up in time.  Bobby had turned an ankle 6 miles into the race, but he still managed to take 25^th place overall. 

My body went into shutdown mode.  I was getting hypothermic, so I grabbed a complementary veggie burrito provided my Moe’s and sat by the fireplace for a good long while.  After 15 minutes of therapeutic massage from the specialists at Raleigh-based Stiner Massage, I felt like I could move again.  I was in no hurry, so I hung around the finish area until every last finisher crossed the line.  Everyone was so supportive of me, and I owed nothing less than to support them as well.  Among the more notable finishers were a father and son named Brandon and Nicholas Teague.  This was Nicholas’s 1^st marathon (what a choice!), and he was only 13 years old!  Perhaps he is the next Anton Krupicka in the making.

Umstead Trail Marathon easily was the most difficult race I’ve ever experienced.  There was no doubt that I truly had tested myself on these grounds.  After the upcoming Long Cane 50K in May, I might spend a little more time on the roads, but I will return to Umstead eventually.  Perhaps it will be to see what next year’s critter will be, or maybe to run the Umstead 50 miler next year.  But for now, I’m only concerned about food and sleep.

Things I learned at Umstead Trail Marathon:

1)    The Wall is real, and it will humble you.

2)    5 gels is the maximum my stomach can handle for 26.2 miles.

3)    Running single track is my strong suit.

4)    There is absolutely no shame in taking a walk break.

5)    No matter how hard you train, your trail pace never will be as fast as your road pace.

6)    CAUTION, PERSONAL INFO: I have mastered the art of urinating while running.  I won’t get into the mechanics of it, but it’s efficient and not messy.

Gear used:

New Balance MT 110: very tough for a semi-minimalist trail racing shoe.

Inov-8 Debris Gaiters: kept my feet grit-free all day.

2XU Compression Calf Sleeves: felt good to wear all race, and even better to take off!

RaceReady LD shorts: 7 pockets, need I say more?

Powerbar gels: nice, thin consistency, lots of electrolytes, good balance of fast and slow carbs, and I liked the taste.

Zensah full length compression socks: lifesaving to put on after the race!

Next on my race calendar:

3/17/12: Leprechaun Loop 8K. Davidson, NC

5/6/12: Long Cane 50K, Abbeville, SC

9/7-8/12: Blue Ridge Relay (maybe), Boone/Asheville, NC

9/29-30/12: Hinson Lake 24 Hour Classic, Rockingham, NC

Fat Tuesday training update and FFF 5K Recap

It’s been an interesting and rewarding few days of running.  I set a new 5K PR, solidified some race goals, had some unexpected training rewards, and I think I’ve even nailed down what I’m going to give up for Lent.

This past Saturday was the Fitness, Family, and Friendship 5K in North Cabarrus Park (Concord, NC).  The counselor at my elementary school and her husband—who happens to coach Cross Country at the High School—organized the event.  I had run at the park before, and I was looking forward to racing on hard-packed gravel instead of asphalt.  My intention was to get up super early and log my long mileage for the weekend before going to the 10 o’clock race, but my sensible wife and the cold weather convinced me to bag it and get a couple of extra hours of sleep in a warm, comfy bed. 

The extra rest paid off.  I went to the part charged and itching to race.  I ran the course as a warm-up at my projected marathon pace to loosen the legs.  I shed my jacket, donned my racing singlet and arm sleeves, and downed my traditional double espresso gel.  I toed the line next to Carly, a college student I had seen at a few other middle distance races over the past few months.  Carly was faster than me, but I had been working on my speed quite a bit lately.  I would keep an eye on her.  Also present were several members of the High School’s Cross Country team, including Jose, on whom I had my money to win.  The rest of the pack included amateur racers like me and a lot of Kannapolis City School District staff.

For 5K, the course was a workout both mentally and physically.  Turnarounds and switchbacks led us to climb the few hills along the gravel greenway a couple of times, and we had to be on the lookout for faint, spray-painted directional markings to keep us on course.  More than once, I shouted ahead to others who had missed a turn, and I only knew the way because I ran the course once already for my warm-up.  I lost the high-school athletes after half a mile, but I kept Carly in and 3 other runners in range.  My 1^st mile split was 6:28, almost exactly on pace for a 20 minute finish.  Not bad, considering the terrain.  By the end of the second mile, the pack in front of me had drifted back.  I made my move and passed all of them but Carly.  She kept a good 25 yards on me.  Mile 2 was 6:23, which was good to maintain a 20 minute finish, but it left practically no breathing room.  Pun intended; I was gassed!  Mile 3 was more of chasing Carly and keeping us both on  the modestly marked course.  After a quick dip into some rooted woods, we broke out on the greenway for 200 meters of sprint to the finish.  Carly beat me by 3 seconds, but she and 4 high school track athletes were the only people to finish ahead of me.  Jose won the race with a near sub-17 minute time.  My finishing time and PR was 19:48, so I actually had quickened my pace a tiny bit during the last 1.1 miles.  I was satisfied.

The following day, I decided to get my long mileage in with a bunch of other DART members.  I planned on 10 miles at a very gingerly pace, not wanting to injure myself before the upcoming Umstead Trail Marathon.  11 miles later, we were headed up South Street, which was 1200 meters of straight climb.  My running buddies Mike and Sam had cajoled me in to negative splitting the last hill.  We maintained a sub-7 minute pace for the last mile, and crested the hill at my 5K pace, which is not a workout one typically welcomes at the end of long run.  I finished feeling good though, and I enjoyed some well-deserved coffee at Summit afterwards. 

During our post-run coffee, Sam and Dave Munger really convinced me to examine my marathon goals.  Up until now, I would have been pleased to match my Thunder Road pace at upcoming Umstead.  Now, I will be disappointed if I don’t demolish it.  Sam, Dave, Mike, and several other experienced marathoners have been keeping track of my progress over the past few months, and they all agree I could run a 3:30 road marathon right now if I wanted.  Given the zone in which I have been training, I must say that I agree with them.  Umstead is different, though.  21+ miles of bridle trail plus a good 5 miles of single-track is a different beast than 26.2 miles of smooth asphalt.  Sure, the surface will be softer, but the pace will be slower as well.  The terrain will be very hilly too.  So, I’ve been including hilly trail runs into my regimen as much as I can in order to cut down on my road/trail pace differential.  I’m going to PR this beast, with you the readers as my witnesses! 

After Sunday long runs, I like to take Monday as my rest day, or maybe squeeze in some light strength training.  With this past Monday being Presidents’ Day, I had a little extra time in the morning to get to school, so I scheduled a 6.4 mile loop with Dave before work.  Running from the YMCA to our meeting spot across from Summit and running back after our loop turned the 6+ miler into just over 9 miles.  Later, I would add another mile (barefoot) on the treadmill after some weight training, bringing me to a 10+ mile day, meaning I had back-to-back long run days.  For sure I would take a rest day today (Fat Tuesday).  Nope.  I woke up feeling like a racehorse, so I laced up some super-light Innov-8’s and knocked out 7 miles at sub-marathon pace.  I was 2 miles into that run when I realized I had forgotten to wear my IT Band wraps.  My legs were feeling great, and my form felt spot on, so I finished my morning run elated.  I felt so good throughout the work day, that I promised myself an evening run just to take advantage of good time.  That evening run turned in to just over 10 miles, capping me at 17 for the day.  So much for a rest day.

Well, there you have it: a back-to-back-to-back set of long run days, all with less than two weeks until Umstead Marathon.  It's Tuesday, and I've nearly passed my mileage for all of last week so far in this week.  I don’t know if this is a good sign or not.  I don’t want to train myself into a corner, but I have to take advantage of what I have.  I have one more longish run on Sunday, which will NOT exceed 10 miles.  Aside from that, I may throw in one more speed day, and everything else will be at an easy recovery pace to keep the legs moving. 

While I’m in a resolute mood, I should mention that I have come to my decision as to what to deny myself for Lent, which starts tomorrow.  I already have given up nearly everything that is bad for me, so this year is quite a challenge.  Given that I get a lot of my protein from nuts, legumes, beans, and whole grains, I figured meat was a logical choice for a sacrifice.  I will continue to eat eggs, but only local, farm fresh eggs supplied by one of my colleagues at school.  I have not had milk or cheese for months, and I don't really eat any red meat to speak of, so I'm basically giving up poultry, fish, and the occasional strip of bacon.  It will be interesting to see how my fuel/recovery diet will respond to this change, but I think I can do it successfully if I plan far enough in advance.  We shall see…

Happy Mardi Gras!  Laissez les bon temps roulez!

Umstead Marathon Training Update: 3 weeks out

I currently am in the peak week of my loosely adhered-to marathon training plan for Umstead Trail Marathon, which takes place in 3 weeks (March 3rd).  This will be my 3rd race of marathon distance or greater, the previous 2 having been Thunder Road Marathon and Frosty 50K.  For Thunder Road, I followed a digested form of Hal Higdon’s Intermediate training plan for nearly 4 months.  I juggled around some long runs here and there, and I improvised the speed work, but I was pretty faithful to Higdon’s template.  I finished Thunder Road very confidently without hitting a wall or getting hurt.  I feel I was well trained, but also that I was performing well within my limits.  Ideally, I’d wanted to push myself right to the edge of my limitations, so I took a slightly less conservative approach to Frosty 50.  Frosty was 8 weeks after Thunder Road, so I adopted a fairly symmetrical pyramid of recovery/increased training, peaking with a 22 miler at 4 weeks out, and then tapering down as if doing it all in reverse.  After getting over some wear-and-tear injuries early in this plan, I started setting massive PR’s for 5K’s, Half Marathons, and the like.  My goal for Frosty was sub-5 hours.  I accomplished this by a margin of about 90 seconds, and my body was spent by the time I crossed the finish line, so I was convinced I had found out where my limits were.  However, I went running the very next day…and he following day…and the day after that, and so on until I had gone almost a full week without a rest day despite having just run and ultra.  Having another 8-week window between Frosty and Umstead, I decided I might be able to handle a more rigorous training pyramid.  This ended up including two 20 milers instead of one, back-to-back long runs (to practice running on tired legs), weekly speed work/races, and several two-a-day runs when my schedule allowed.  I also have kept up with my cross-training (a few elliptical sessions here or there) and I maintain at least two days of weight training each week.   My recovery was and has been a lot more positive this time around.  2 weeks ago, I ran 21 miles with a hydropack on my back at an 8:12 average pace and felt fresh as a daisy afterwards.  I never had that kind of resiliency during the late stages of Thunder Road or Frosty 50, and I ran each of those at a much slower pace.  Maybe my body is just finally adapting to a higher sustained volume of training/racing.  Tomorrow will be the test.  I will be doing my last 20 miler on the trails of Lake Norman State Park before my taper for Umstead.  This 20 miler will help me solidify my goals for the race.  My original goal for Umstead was to finish in less than 4 hours—conservative to account for high mileage on unfamiliar trails.  However, I feel confident I could complete a road marathon in 3:30 if pressed to do so in a couple weeks, so I figure I can do Umstead in 3:45, especially since I am becoming very accustomed to trail running.  I would be happy enough just to PR, which would mean beating my Thunder Road time of 3:52.  I understand that publicizing these goals now holds me accountable, and some of my training partners may yet admonish me for being too conservative, but a marathon is like a baseball game: the damnedest things can just happen without any warning. I will be sure to post any updates to my training as they come, especially as March 3rd draws nearer.  After all, once I get through Umstead, I have another 9 weeks to do it all again in preparation for Long Cane 50K in May.

Winter Flight 8K Race Recap

Saturday had started off as a kind of poopy day.  A stomach virus had been spreading like a wildfire through my school, causing 25% of the students and faculty to be absent on Friday, and making the rest of us paranoid.  I was not feeling my best on Friday, so I took it easy and got a decent night’s sleep.  Saturday morning, I did not feel any better, but not really any worse.  I would be fine if I could hold this thing off until after today’s race.

February 4^th was the 29^th annual Winter Flight 8K in Salisbury.  Winter Flight is the state’s oldest 8K, and it always draws a big crowd of fast runners.  I had won a free registration to this race from a giveaway contest by Théoden Janes, the Charlotte Observer’s runner/blogger.  1996 Olympian Joan Nesbit still holds the course record, which has stood for 20 years.  Joan was on hand to meet and greet people, and she ran the race with us as part of her 50^th birthday celebration. 

The race was to begin at 10am, which is rather late in the day for someone of my schedule, so I decided I would get up early and bank some easy, long mileage beforehand, making Saturday my long run day, and leaving Sunday for rest.  At 6am, I met fellow DARTer John Richards and his friend Garry at my local YMCA.  John and Garry had 18 miles on their schedule before their Myrtle Beach Marathon taper, so I decided to join them for about half of it.  We kept a nice, slow pace, and the company was great, but as I broke off to return to my car after about 6 miles, I just couldn’t get into a groove.  Maybe it was my shoes.  My Brooks Pure Flows were fairly lightweight by most runners’ standards, but they were way more cushioned than the shoes in which I normally run during the week.  Were they throwing off my form?  Maybe it was my hydration backpack.  I don’t normally carry water for anything less than 10 miles, but I have been wearing my hydropack on long runs for training purposes so I will be used to it before me next 50K in May.  Maybe the sloshing around was affecting me.  When I reached my car after 9 miles, I concluded that I was most likely coming down with something.  I wasn’t sick, but I wasn’t 100%. 

As I drove home to pick up my wife Heidi for the drive to Salisbury, I examined my goals for the race.  I knew I would not be able to sustain a 5K pace, which was an idea I had thrown around.  I decided I would just shoot for a 7 minute/mile pace throughout.  This would be a good tempo run, and it would ensure a PR since I had not raced an 8K in quite a while.  I had a couple other secret goals, but more on that later. 

During the pastoral 45 minute drive across two counties to Salisbury, I was feeling a bit queasy.  This had nothing to do with race day nerves…there was something else roiling around in there.  I told myself that it was ok to throw up as long as it was before or after to the race…hopefully not during. 

Heidi and I arrived at Catawba College, a small but beautiful campus in the middle of a seemingly downtrodden Salisbury.  The packet pick-up was inside the gymnasium, where there was an expo that might have rivaled some marathons.  Peter from Vac-And-Dash—everyone’s favorite running retailer/vacuum cleaner repair/screen printing store—had a large booth with dramatically slashed prices on apparel.  Another booth had running shoes for up to 50% off.  Heidi and I agreed we would have to stop by the expo directly after the race.

I had enough time to get a warm-up run in, so I ran an easy mile on the course with a few short bursts at race pace to get that speed into my head.  The warm-up run made my stomach feel a little better, and I was confident going into the beginning of the race.  After a few dynamic stretches and a Double Espresso flavored Turbo-powered Clif Shot, I was ready to toe the line.  It was unseasonably mild for early February, but I still dressed lightly as to be a little cold at the start.  Rain had been threatening to fall all morning, and the asphalt was wet, but the start of the race was lucky enough to have a break in the precipitation. 

As the race began, I politely elbowed my way around much of the crowd until I found a nice pocket in which to run.  As I glanced at my watch, I was seeing paces between 6:15 and 6:30.  “Settle down, Chas,” I told myself.  There was a long incline coming for most of the first mile.  I slowed down to a 7:00 pace and did my best to ignore everyone else.  Two thirds into the 1^st mile, I spotted another DART singlet 50 yards ahead of me.  I knew from the broad shoulders and backwards cap that this was Jim Crotts.  I knew Jim was a quick runner, but he also was in my age group, so I couldn’t in good conscience just let him go.  I wanted to kick up to meet him, but I forced myself to stick to my race plan and try to maintain a steady pace.  Crotts could wait.  Besides, the steady hill we were climbing already was bringing a few other runners back to me.  As long as I was consistent, I would make my way up the pack.  My split at the 1^st mile was 6:58.  So far, so good.

The 2^nd mile continued to the top of the long hill and then detoured through a residential area.  In this neighborhood, shortly after 1.5 miles, I came up alongside Jim.  He recognized me, but we both were concentrating too much on race pace to say “hello.”  A simple thumbs-up would suffice.  I ran alongside Jim for half a mile.  If I tried to pass him too early, he would make me pay for it the rest of the race, much like he did at the A2S 5K in Davidson last September.  I relaxed at race pace until just before the 2 mile marker and then made my move.  A 7:02 mile brought my 2 mile split to 14:00.  I was right on target.

During the 3^rd mile, I spent a lot of time running in a no-man’s-land between packs.  A racer in a baby jogger caught up to me on a downhill and was threatening to pass.  He was looking pretty strong.  “Run your own race,” I reminded myself silently, but the pride in me sounded more like “No way am I going to get beat by a guy with a baby jogger!”  The downhill was short, and another gradual climb followed.  Baby jogger man slipped behind me, but my pace was slowing as well.  I was beginning to fatigue. Luckily, there was not much wind on this open state highway.  A strong headwind would all but kill my pace.  The 3^rd mile was 7:05, with a 21:05 split.  Not bad, but I was slipping behind my pace.  I would need to find my 7 minute mile again.

The terrain helped on the 4^th mile.  I rode a steady downhill to both quicken my pace and catch my breath.  Baby jogger man took advantage of the downhill as well and caught up with me.  Crap.  I kept him at bay, but another runner in a light blue tech shirt caught up to me as well.  He was well passed my age group, but I am not one to get passed late in the race.  I pushed my pace and kept track of him by the sound of his breathing.   By the end of the 4^th mile, I was feeling pretty good.  My 4 mile split was 28:00, meaning I had accelerated to a 6:55 mile, and I was still picking up speed.  I was pretty much locked in for a PR.  All I had to do was negative split the hell out of this last mile, and I would accomplish another secret goal—beat Théoden.  Théoden was not participating in this year’s Winter Flight.  He was busy running the inaugural Charlotte Ultra Marathon 50K in a smoking 4 hours, 18 minutes and change.   More power to him.  However his time at last year’s Winter Flight was 34:47.  Yes, I looked it up.  Since I was racing on Théoden’s dime, I made it an unofficial goal to beat his time. 

A short incline during the last mile allowed me to drop Blue Shirt and Baby Jogger and continue the race on my own.  The final two thirds of a mile took us through the Catawba College Campus.  I could see and hear the stadium where the finish line was, so I picked up the pace.  The last 300 yards were on the track inside the college’s stadium.  Breaking onto the track really prompted me to let it all out.  I sprinted across the finish line to the cheering crowd with a time of 34:25.  I finished 30^th overall out of 272 8K runners, and I was 4^th in my division of 20 males aged 30-34.  I had beaten Théoden, and I had set a new 8K PR by more than 2 minutes, but most importantly, I didn’t throw up!  I think racing actually settled my stomach.

Heidi greeted me at the timing table and grabbed a quick picture of me with Jim, who had finished 30 seconds after me.  Fellow DARTer Kevin Ballantine congratulated us as well.  He had finished at 31 minutes and change, slightly ahead of Joan Nesbit.  Heidi and I sought the dry warmth of the gymnasium where I took advantage of the cookies and peanut butter, and we bought some marked-down merchandise from the Vac-and Dash tent.  Then, it was nap time.

Gear:

The Merrell Barefoot Trail Gloves are my favorite shoes.  I have worn them to work, to the gym, and on quite a few training runs.  This was their first official race, and they did not disappoint.  At around 7 ounces, they are much lighter than many conventional racing flats, and the Vibram outsole gripped well on the wet asphalt.  The Brooks Pure Flows I had worn earlier that morning are great shoes too, but they do not grip well on wet roads.  Also, as I have stated, I am trying to move to zero-drop shoes like the Merrells whenever I can.  I will still use the Pure Flows for long training runs.

I have to give props to the Salisbury Rowan Runners Club.  This organization not only put on a great race that attracted hundreds of runners from counties away, but they have a full calendar of similar races throughout the year, all at affordable prices.  If you are looking for some well organized 5K and 8K races to fill in some weekends, look up this running club.

Thanks also to Théoden Janes for holding the giveaway contest and making it possible for me to race this 8K for free.  Sorry I gunned for your time, but it was nothing personal.  Besides, your Charlotte Ultra Marathon time destroyed my best 50K time.  Congrats!

Next on my race calendar (for now):

February 18^th: Fitness, Family, and Friendship 5K: Concord, NC

March 3^rd: Umstead Trail Marathon: Raleigh, NC

May 6^th: Long Cane 50K: Abbeville, SC

September 7-8^th: Blue Ridge Relay (maybe?): Asheville, NC

September 29^th: Hinson Lake 24 Hour Classic: Rockingham, NC