Two Races Enter, One Recap Leaves.

This past weekend, I decided to pull a Bobby Aswell and race multiple races on one weekend.  Friday evening was Charlotte's Largest Office Party 5k downtown, and Saturday morning was the Saving Little Hearts of Nicaragua 5k in Davidson.  These races were separated by 13.5 hours.  Oh, and it's early June in the beginning of what is shaping up to be a very hot summer.  I'm a genius.  And yes, it's difficult to denote sarcasm in print.
Charlotte's Largest Office Party 5k, Friday 6:30pm
Friday night's race starting alongside Buffalo Wild Wings, which adjoined the NASCAR Hall of Fame on Brevard Street in downtown (uptown?) Charlotte.  The course was not designed to be easy or fast.  The first km was largely downhill, but then it turned onto the sustained climb of Morehead and led to a fly-by of the BOA Stadium, much as last year's Blue 5k had done.  Turning right on Stonewall once again, there was some sustained downhill once again, but the last 600 meters or so on McDowell and MLK were a steady climb to the finish line.  The temperature had reached the mid-80s with high humidity.  Given the heat/humidity, the challenging course, and the tough day at work leading up to the evening hours, I had no realistic aspirations of nearing my usual goal of <19 minutes.  In fact, I would consider my self lucky if I could get near 20.
Instead of running the course as a warm up as per my usual pre-5k routine, I just plodded along for a couple of miles, not even bothering to add in some pick-ups at race pace.  What's race pace for tonight, anyway?  There was a large crowd (as was to be expected since this was part of the RFYL Signature Series) that included many of the fleetest runners from CRC.  I wasn't looking for hardware today; I just wanted a good showing.
At the start, no fewer than four dozen runners shot out ahead of me.  Some, like the out-of-my-league racers like Paul Mainwaring and Billy Shue, would be gone forever.  I knew many more would fade back to me.  My strategy for this evening was to maintain a conservative, even effort, and push a little on the Stonewall section of the third mile if I had some gas left.  On Morehead, the flies started dropping.  A giraffe-ish runner in my age group thought it was a good time to pass me at the bottom of the climb.  50 meters later, he was behind me again.  In fact, from this point on, I didn't have to worry about anyone catching up to me.  I just focused on the handfuls of fading runners on the hill ahead.
After a few races on this road, I've made my peace with Morehead.  As long as I treat the climb with respect, it reciprocates by not zapping me to death.  A few minutes later, I was over the hump at the 277 overpass, and I had some time to recover as I made for the right turns onto Mint and then Stonewall.  Once I hit Stonewall, the sun was at my back instead of in my face, but I did have a modest headwind with which to contend.  I turned on the gas--not so much to increase my pace by much, but enough to gobble up a dozen more runners who were dying more than me in the heat.  After the last two left turns, I saw two more runners--both in my age group--ahead of me.  Only one looked to be in reach.  Sure enough, all he could do was gasp and wave me on as I passed him.  One down.  The other started fading more than I expected, and I had a surge left in me, so I poured it on and passed him with 100 meters left.  As soon as I crossed the finish and stopped running, I immediately felt the damp heat of the air.  Yuck.  I was well off my PR, and I didn't even come close to my realistic goal of sub-20.  With a 20:32, this was my slowest 5k in 18 months, and that includes trail 5k's.  However, despite the unimpressive finishing time, my strategy paid off enough to earn me 2nd in my age group, which I'm perfectly happy with given the highly competitive field.

This AG medal is bigger and heavier than some marathon medals I've gotten!

Saving Little Hearts of Nicaragua 5k.  Saturday, 8am
Fast forward.  After a shower, a light meal, and a decent night's sleep, I was up and in Davidson for Saving Little Hearts.  There's nothing new or exciting about this course--it's the Run For Green 5k course used by about half a dozen other events in Davidson.  Last Spring, I ran 18:51 on this course at Pawz Too Run, but this day was hotter and more humid, and I was doubtful I had a sub-19 in me...but I was going to try anyway!
My strategy for SLH was opposite from the previous evening's race.  In order to play to the terrain, I was going to milk as much speed as I could out of the downhill first mile, then let the uphill middle mile do its own thing, and finally try to hang on for the last mile.  Everything started according to plan.  I shot out ahead of the entire field with two fifteen-sixteen year-old cross country athletes on my heels.  They overtook me at the bottom of the hill on South Street as we turned onto the greenway.  My first mile was a 5:52.  Not bad.  Thing 1 and Thing 2 pulled ahead and opened up a fifteen second lead on me, but I knew there was plenty of room in a 5k to make things happen--for better or worse.  I gasped up the hill on Avinger and maintained my fifteen second shadow.  I was in third place, and the fourth place runner was nearly a minute behind me, so whatever battle that remained would be among the overall top three.
I made my move in the last quarter mile--a stretch of Lorimer on which I had passed many runners in past races.  I overtook Thing 2, but I knew Thing 1 as out of reach.  I pushed to maintain my pace through the finish, but I heard Thing 2's footfalls closing in rapidly.  If I could hear him, he was too close.  In the end, I could not surge strongly enough to out-kick his sixteen-year-old speed.  He passed me within the flags leading to the finishing arch.  The winner finished with 19:31, his friend took second from me with 19:35, and I settled for third with 19:36.

And I would have won too, if it weren't for those medaling teenagers!  (Pun intended)

I shouldn't say I "settled" for third.  That kid outraced me, pure and simple.  And 19:36 is a perfectly respectable time given the sweaty race conditions.  I'm still frustrated though, because I've once again been stymied in my efforts to get under 19 minutes since the end of winter.  Four times now in the past few weeks, I've been hovering in the 19:30s.  None of the races have been in ideal conditions, but hey, that's racing.  I think it's just going to take a while for me to get my speed back after Umstead.  The weather's only getting hotter now, so the plan is to settle into maintenance mode for the summer and shoot for some fast times in the fall.  Until then, I may have one or two other outside-the-box goals to pursues, but that's a different blog post altogether.

State of the Sockless Runner

I've been very introspective as of late.  In light of the recent events in Boston, all the runners I know have been vowing to lace up and run more in honor of those affected by the marathon bombings.  Yeah, I'm in that boat too I guess.  As Americans, we take it personally; and as American runners, we take it very personally.  Had those terrible explosions happened at next year's Boston Marathon, it very likely could have been my wife or me in harm's way.

But there's more to my introspection than that.  Yes, we will keep running.  However, rather than running more, I will be running less.  In 2013 so far, I've set PR's at four different ultra distances, and I completed my first 100 mile race less than 18 months after my first marathon.  I've logged thousands of training miles leading up to these various events and maintained a single-minded focus on some pretty lofty goals.  Do I feel the sense of accomplishment?  Yes.  Absolutely.  Then my friends ask: "What's next?"  There, I start to get a little shaky.  Next?  Seriously?!

Let me tell you what else I've done while training at such a high volume and intensity.  I've brought my body to a tipping point.  I've spent months letting my training sap away my energy and my time.  I got fit for my  goals, but I did at the expense of...well, everything else.  Working a full-time job, a part-time job, and logging an average of 70 miles per week left very little energy to spend quality time with my wife, my dogs, and my friends.  Over-training led to constant fatigue and chronic nagging injuries, much to the ire of my chiropractor.  My lack of sleep has been just plain unhealthy.  I nearly broke the bank just trying to keep enough food in the house to satiate my constant hunger.

Right now, I'm at a precipice, and I am going to take action before I burn up or burn out.  Yes, now is the time to run, and I still resolve to be a Reckless Runner, but I'm going to be smart about it so that I can live safely and healthfully, but continue to race with reckless abandon.  Boston 2014, you are in my cross-hairs  but until that point, I am going to have to set aside ultra-running...and perhaps marathoning.  Instead, I plan to slash my weekly mileage base and focus on quality of runs, not so much quantity of miles.  I plan on using some of that extra time to reinstate my strength training regimen and get back some of the muscle I've cannibalized through ultra-distance running.  Most importantly, I plan on making time for my family and for my rest.  If I have that in my pocket, I can only achieve more.

So look for me to be at the occasional 5k-Haf-Marathon.  Don't expect me to be be doing 25-milers on weekend training runs.  The ultras will be there when I return, but I plan to take my time and return stronger, smarter, and healthier.  Now is the time for us to run, but if I'm going to run, I'm going to make it a good run.

See you on the roads and trails.

A Song for Boston, 2013

This morning, while waiting for my school children to arrive at class, I did something I haven't done in a couple of years.  I wrote a song.  It's a shame the inspiration had to be something so tragic, but something urged me to put some words on paper.  At the time of this post, I have not put music to the words yet, but the sentiment is there I believe.

"A Song for Boston, 2013"
words by C.A. Willimon

In a crisp New England Spring, like so many days before,
The city of Boston lay in wait for what's in store.
In the town of Hopkinton, over twenty-six miles away,
Nearly thirty thousand athletes prepared to start their day.

It was a day of celebration, of patriots, of pride,
Of runners chasing dreams with half a million on their side.
Just over four hours later, at the Boylston celebration.
Tragedy struck Boston at the height of their elation.

Boston, oh Boston,
May you see no more harm.
For those who had fallen,
You opened up your arms
Boston, oh Boston,
May you see no more harm. 

Amid the chaos at the finish, no one knew just what to think.
As a frightened, worried nation, we watched as our hearts sank.
The scene was hard to take but no one could look away.
Our prayers went to Boston; we were New Englanders that day.

One could not help but notice, despite the dangers there,
There were many risking their own lives just to give aid and care.
Some of us have fallen; many lives are changed forever,
But Boston's care for all our friends is what we will remember.


Boston, oh Boston,
May you see no more harm.
For those who had fallen,
You opened up your arms
Boston, oh Boston,
May you see no more harm. 

Pride and Pain: Umstead 100

Pain is a gift.

Ambitious, stubborn, crazy...these are all things I've been called in the past few months.  And, they are all necessary qualities of a successful ultra runner.  I needed all of them this past weekend at the Umstead 100 Mile Endurance Run.  I was crazy to sign up for Umstead, stubborn to follow through with the training, and ambitious to set a lofty first-time goal of completing the distance in 24 hours (and earning a coveted silver "One Day" finisher's belt buckle).  However, as race director Blake Norwood stated at the Friday evening pre-race briefing, the long months of training and hard work would get me to the starting line, but will would get me to the finish.

Ambitions, stubborn, and crazy.

The Course:
The Umstead Endurance Run course consists of a certified 12.5 mile lollipop loop with an out-and-back thrown in after the first half mile of rocky gravel road.  The Airport Spur out-and-back section (comprising about 2 total miles) is the flattest and least exciting part of the course, and late in the race, it is a deceivingly mentally difficult stretch.  After passing by the gate that lead to and from the start/finish, one begins the loop proper.  On the Reedy Creek bridle trail, there are 3 miles of long, rolling hills--including an especially long uphill after passing a scenic lake overlook.  Following a left turn, there are a couple miles of shorter rollers before a couple of sharp drops leading into Aid Station 2, where the bridle trail parallels Ebeneezer Church Rd.  After AS2, one gets a flat quarter mile to eat some food or send a text message before cutting left into the infamous "Sawtooth 79" section.  "Sawthooth," because the elevation profile goes up and down like, well, sawteeth; and "79" because it goes from mile marker 7 to a bit past mile marker 9.  So after those steep climbs and jarring downhills, one climbs to a left turn onto Graylyn bridle trail, and the longest sustained downhill of the course (my favorite).  It's referred to as the "Power Line" section because the hill S-curves around a large power line in a clearing.  Then it's a half-mile climb before a right turn on Reedy Creek, which takes one back from whence he or she came, sans Airport Spur.  On that last 1.5 miles, there are a couple of stinky climbs, including Cemetery Hill, which is well known by veterans of Umstead 100 and Umstead Marathon alike.  Right turn at the gate, charge into start/finish/AS1, and repeat 7 more times.  Got it?  Good.

The excitement of Camp Lapihio just before the start.

The Race:
We started at 6am, about an hour before dawn.  I settled in with what I though were the front-of-the-middle-packers.  The pace, while slow for any other foot race, seemed a bit quick to me for the start of a 100 miler, so I let folks pass me by and kept pace with the majority of those around me.  I settled in with DARTer Jeff McGonnell (who has run 5 Umsteads and dozens of 100s) and his close friends, Daniel and Steven Pieroni. We shared several miles together during the first lap, even though I had to drop and catch up with them a few times while I was dealing with some early GI and over-hydration issues.  We had gone 4 or 5 miles before Jeff realized exactly how fast we were going, which was too fast.  Eventually, we backed off and settled into a groove before hitting AS2.  I dropped off my cotton gloves and head lamp and filled a plastic bag with a 1/4 PBJ sandwich, some pretzel sticks, and a small boiled potato.  I had been eating gels, but I was determined to mix in real food early on. This particular combination would serve me well for 50+ miles to come.  The Sawtooth was a bit cool, but the varied terrain was not unwelcome.  I rocked the power line hill and hiked up the last few hills before heading into HQ/AS1 and finishing my first lap in 2:04:xx.  Considering my initial stomach issues, I was happy with this initial pace.

Lap 2 was a thing of beauty.  I had a pace dialed in, and my GI issues were under control, so I just focused on sticking to the plan and enjoying the run.  It was still early on, so there was no fatigue or discomfort yet.  I ate according to my pre-ordained schedule, walked according to the terrain and perceived effort, and relished the company of my fellow runners.  I even ran a few more miles with Steven Pieroni, who was not running as fast as me, but would make up for it by out-walking me.  At AS2, I spent a total of 15 seconds.  Without stopping, I just scooped the food I wanted into my zip-lock bag as I walked by.  I waited until the first real uphill on the Sawtooth to eat most of it.  While I continued to play to the terrain, I saw many runners stubbornly running every hill.  I would catch up to them or leave them behind on the next flat or downhill, so I let them do their thing.  Many of them I would not see again after lap 3 or 4.  After climbing Graylyn and turning inbound on Reedy Creek, I really enjoyed the multitude of runners going each direction.  There certainly was a big sense of camaraderie in this race.  Lap 2 was a 2:06, almost an even split with lap 1.  To boot, my wife Heidi was waiting at HQ to greet me and snap a photo or two.

Coming in strong and feeling good at 25 miles.

Lap 3 was a bit of a lull.  I knew I was planning on a progressively slower pace from here on out, but the warming temperatures of the late morning and mid day were starting to make their presence known.  Many of the non-walkers from before were walking now.  I was glad I had started walking early.  I ate okay, but I was going through water a lot more quickly and voiding it not nearly as often.  Lap 3 was 2:21:xx, and it felt a lot harder than it should have.  Heidi was there and told me I still looked good, so I took her word for it.  I wasn't looking forward to lap 4, but I tried to keep a positive mental outlook.  "12.5 more miles, and I will at least be allowed a pacer," was my reasoning.  I originally intended on finishing the first 50 miles in 9 hours (by 3pm), but to do that, I would need to run a 2:29 lap 4.  There was no need to push it, as my quads already were starting to hurt.  So, I ran lap 4 very similarly to lap 3, but I took a couple more walk breaks and relaxed my pace a little.  I finished 50 miles in 9:10:58, which was a 50 mile PR by over two hours!  Heidi was there, but so was the rest of my crew: Phyllis Tsang and Chad Randolph.  At least I would have company for the rest of the race.

Halfway there!  It was pretty hot out by this time.

I told Phyllis and Chad that I was still able to run the downhills hard, run/walk the flats, and walk all of the uphills, but from here on out, I was going to walk when I felt like it, run while I could, and let the chips fall as they may.  Phyllis joined me for lap 5, and the terminally dull Airport Spur seemed to go by rather quickly thanks to her conversation.  I walked a lot more on this lap, but I still threw in some running spells on the flats in order to keep the cumulative pace respectable.  Phyllis was surprised at how hard I was willing to run the downhills this far in the race.  "No wonder your quads hurt," she told me after the first few bomber descents. Much of the field had taken a more conservative approach to the downhills, and they often would part like the Red Sea to the edge of the trail when they heard us charging downward from above like Stuka dive-bombers.  My lap with Phyllis was just under 3 hours--a pace with which I was very content.  Qualitatively, other than the aches and pains of 62.5 cumulative miles, lap 5 was almost as enjoyable as lap 2.  The total race time by the end of the lap was just under 12 hours and 11 minutes, and since I had never raced a 100K before, I decided to take it as my 100K PR.  Two PR's so far this race, and I wasn't even finished!

Phyllis and me after completing lap 5.  100K down!

At HQ/AS1, I finally retired my sweat-soaked Reckless Running singlet and put on a dry shirt.  The sun was getting low in the sky, and my pace would continue to slow, so I didn't want to get caught with wet clothes when the temperature dropped.  Phyllis decided to stay at HQ to volunteer and hang out for the rest of the race, but Chad had agreed to run (er...walk) the final three laps with me.  Lap 6 was a slow and steady walk, with very little level-terrain running of which to speak.  We still ran the downhills, and they continued to hurt, but I found that if I opened up and ran a bit faster, my stride would reach a sweet spot where everything hurt less.  I could maintain it for a long descent, but only if I knew there was a nice, walkable uphill afterwards for recovery.  That's the beauty of the Umstead course.  By the end of the 6th lap, it was fully dark outside and I was wearing three layers.  75 miles down, a little less than a marathon to go...

Chad and me on the dreaded Airport Spur.

From here on out, I was content to walk every section of the course that was not downhill.  I also was not worried about lingering in the aid stations.  Both of these things brought my overall pace to a crawl.  I had been experiencing emotional and physical ups and downs for most of the day, but around mile 77 was the first time I truly had doubts about finishing. I had been hurting--really hurting--for many hours, and I was starting to feel not only physically tired, but sleepy as well.  This is where the flat monotany of the Airport Spur really began to take its toll on me.  I voiced my doubts to Chad and implied that I seriously was considering dropping out.  His response was almost nonchalant:

"Nah, you're doing great.  It's an ebb and flow.  You feel like s***, then you feel great, then you feel like s***.  You're still moving forward.  You'll finish in one day...or you won't; who cares?  I know you'll finish, just like Jeff will finish.  Heck, we got until noon."

That's pretty much all I needed to hear.  I don't remember much of that part of the evening, but those few sentences of casually comforting words stuck with me.  I picked up the walking pace a little.  A couple miles later, we came upon an unmanned water station that had a veritable myriad of cookies from which to choose.  I gobbled down three or four and felt better almost instantly.  In retrospect, low blood sugar probably had a lot to do with my earlier bout of despair.  I packed some cookies in my plastic to-go baggie and we were on our way.

The rest of lap 7 and most of lap 8 passed by in much the same order over the long, dark hours of Saturday night and Sunday morning.  Even my walking pace had slowed down, but I still ran the downhills, gritting my teeth and exhaling loudly.  Chad kept the conversation going, and while I wasn't my usually chipper self, my relative outlook was rather positive.  There were no more instances where I doubted I would finish.  As the miles and the hours ticked by, Chad and I repeatedly calculated what pace I would need to maintain in order to achieve a sub-24 hour finish.  Very gradually, we were banking time.  The realization began to sink in that not only would I be a finisher, but I would be a single-day finisher.  After bidding a final adieu to the Sawtooth, we took off down the Power Line hill for the last bit of sustained running.  Hike up Graylyn, turn right, one last climb up Cemetery, walk it in, Chas, walk it in.  I even walked down the last little downhill just so I could muster up the energy to run up the last 20 meter hill to the finish line.  Boom.  23 hours, 36 minutes, and 5 seconds.  One-day finisher, silver buckle, and three PR's in one race.  I nearly cried as I was handed my buckle, but I think I was too tired.

The picture may be blurry, but so was I.

Done.  In every sense of the word, I was done.  My body, somehow knowing the race was over, decided to shut down directly.  Chad and Phyllis guided me back into the HQ at Camp Lapihio where Jonathan Savage gave me a congratulatory embrace, and he lead me to a warm spot by the hearth before hypothermia set in.  I very deliberately stripped off my wet layers and replaced them with dry sweats, marveling at the swollen clubs that once had been my feet.  I had a protein shake in my hand, but for some reason, I had no idea what to do with it.  Phyllis ran me some hot soup and a couple slices of pizza, and that hit the spot.  As I ate, I took in the grim scene around me.  Runners were strewn about on cots and benches in various states of slumber.  Others had bandages covering both feet.  Still others were hunched over with head in hands, looking very unhappy.  As much as I was hurting, I thought I was a little better for wear than many of these folks.  Then I tried to stand.  Bad idea.  It was hard to believe that not 15 minutes earlier, I had been running.  There was no horizontal space left to lie down and nap, so I sat up and leaned.  5 minutes...30 minutes...I still don't know how long I was sitting there zoning out.  I was in a lot of pain, but as a sign three miles from the finish said, "Pain is temporary.  Pride is Forever."

Well said.

The Gear:
Shoes:  Hoka Stinson Tarmacs.  For me, these shoes have one purpose: long, hilly ultras.  They did not disappoint.  Naturally, my feet hurt anyway, but I don't think any amount of cushioning is going to prevent that after 100 miles.  I did get one nasty blister on my left pinky toe, but I'm not sure if it's from the shoes, my socks, or just Umstead.  Also, I had been developing a hot spot on my right first metatarsal over the past couple of months, and I began to feel it the morning of the race, so ten minutes before the gun, I borrowed Blake Norwood's pocket knife and cut open a slot in the upper to relieve the pressure.  Problem solved.
Socks: Injinji Original weight with Balega Hidden comfort on top.  Inov-8 Debris Gaiters.
Shorts:  RaceReady Compression.  Pockets and comfort.  Period.
Singlet:  Reckless Running Cyan Swarm.  Lightweight and comfortable, perfect for when the day warmed up.
Hydration:  I switched back and forth between a Nathan Minimist Hydration backpack with a Hydropak bladder and a 20oz Ultimate Direction handheld.
Nutrition:  No fewer than 20 gels, no fewer than a dozen 1/4 PBJs, several boiled potatoes with salt, dozens of pretzel sticks, 4-5 cups of soup, 2 cups of coffee, about 20 cookies, and no ginger.  I was able to eat without getting nauseated for the duration.

AS1 at mile 25.  Eating was not much of a problem.

Many thanks go to my wife for supporting me throughout the long months of training, and to my pacers: Chad and Phyllis.  Anyone wanting to attempt the 100 mile distance, Umstead is the place to do it.  The people there do it right!

Shoe Reviews: Racing Flats

Okay, so since I have been racing so much, most of my blogging has been about racing or training for races.  However, in an effort to make this running blog about more than just competition (and since I will be racing less between now and Umstead), I plan on doing some reviews and comparisons of the large selection of running shoes that have made it onto my feet.  Since I have a rather large shoe closet, these reviews will come in installments by category, beginning with racing flats.  I have used all of the shoes in this post (with the exception of the Adios) in multiple races, and I intend to provide objective, anecdotal responses based on my own personal running style.  Therefore, my cheers or jeers need not be taken as factual testaments to the quality (or lack thereof) of any of these products...unless you and I are very like-minded.  Further disclosure: In no way do I officially endorse any of these models or the manufacturers that produce them.  I purchased these shoes myself, except in one or two cases where the shoes were a gift from family or friends; none of these shoes were comped by their respective manufacturers.  Point of order: while all of these shoes are intended as racing shoes, I use most of them for more than just racing, and one or two may in fact fit the role of daily trainer for me in particular.  Okay, my disclaimer is finished.  Now, off to the road-burners!

Adidas Adizero Adios 2
The Adios is the heaviest, most built-up underfoot shoe in this list.  That being said, at under 8 ounces for my size 9.5, it's still much lighter than most daily trainers.  I originally intended this shoe to be a marathon racer, and I considered donning it for the recent Charlotte 50k, but I opted for the trusted Green Silence, which I will describe below.  The Adios is very firm considering the amount of EVA foam and the 9mm heel-toe drop, but firmness is a trait of many Adidas shoes.  While a firm response is a desirable trait in a racing flat, I think the Adios is a bit too for racing long distances.  I have a feeling my feet would be pretty beat up after 26.2 or 31.1 miles in these babies.  The outsole is very durable and and tracks well on roads and non-technical trails.  The upper is a bit constrictive around the lateral edge of the toe-box, and the hard heel cup gives the Adios a slightly back-heavy feel in my opinion.  The shoe is a good trainer, and it has performed well on long intervals and intermediate steady-state workouts, but I'm not so sure it will move into that marathon racing niche for which it is intended.

Adidas Adizero Hagio
Like its big brother, the Adios, the Hagio is a firm racing flat with excellent traction on roads and non-technical trails, but the similarities end there.  At just over 6 ounces for a size 9.5, the Hagio is racer light but still has just enough material to be durable.  The toe-box is ample, and the 6mm offset in the heel is very conducive to an efficient foot strike with some added protection of medium-long races run at near maximal effort.  I have PR'd a 15k in these shoes, but I think they would perform well at a Half Marathon or 30k length race while still being lithe enough to be a solid 5k racer.  They are among the most versatile racing flats in this list.  My only gripe with the Hagio is the short laces' tendency towards coming untied.  After a 6 mile training run where I re-tied (and double knotted) my laces three times, I replaced them with elastic speed laces and have since ran with impunity in these shoes.  The Hagio is a common choice for my track work as well.

Brooks Green Silence
The Green Silence (which is slated for discontinuation by Brooks this year) will always have a special place in my heart.  This is the marathon racer in which I qualified for Boston for the first (and hopefully not the only) time.  Looking at the shoe in the box or on a display wall, one first notices the burrito-like one-piece upper that folds over itself, and the substantial midsole made from Brooks' BioMogo EVA foam.  The shoe is surprisingly light for its appearance (just over 7 ounces for my size 9.5), and has more heel drop that I usually care for.  The Green Silence is the most comfortable shoe on this list, with the soft mesh hugging the foot due to the fold-over tongue construction.  Walking around in the GS, the cushion feels very soft and mushy for a racing flat, but at marathon paces and above, the shoe responds well to a well-planted mid foot strike.  This shoe can go the distance without slowing me down or being too firm to beat up my feet.  After marauding down the mountain at Ridge To Bridge in the GS, my legs were trashed, but my feet felt great.  I will continue to use the GS for marathons and Road 50k's until I wear it out and fail to find anymore size 9.5's left in the world.  As a bonus, the GS is completely biodegradable when tossed in an active landfill.  Karma points.

Inov-8 Bare-X Lite 150
While I do a lot of training in zero-drop shoes, the Bare-X Lite 150 is the only zero-drop flat I race in regularly.  I have several pairs of Inov-8 shoes, and they all seem to fit their own specific niche.  The 150 (which stands for 150 grams/US size 9, which is my Inov-8 size) is pretty much a race-day only shoe.  In order to save weight, the 150 uses a one-piece, tongue-less upper with minimal overlays, an integrated speed-lacing system, and no rubber outsole.  The thin midsole is blended with denser foam to make up for the lack of blown rubber, but the result is still a low-mileage lifespan.  I have put maybe 50 miles on my 150s and they shoe considerable wear, with barely any outsole detail remaining on the lateral side of the mid foot.  The optimal race distance for the 150 is 5k, although I did set my current 8k PR in this shoe at the Leprechaun Loop 8k.  I also used these for my only (as of yet) 1-mile time trial, in which I ran an uncertified 5:27.  Also, because of its slipper-like fit and quick on/off, this would be a great go-to for triathletes at Sprint and possibly Olympic-length events.

Inov-8 Road-X Lite 155
The 155 is a road racing demon in bright yellow.  It's weight and materials are similar to its zero-drop cousin, but it has a more conventional tongue and lace design, a slight 3mm heel lift, and a flatter outsole surface that seems to provide more longevity for the light fusion outsole material.  The shoe is very light (5.5 ounces), extremely flexible, and has a very comfortable toe-box.  All in all, it is a very fun shoe in which to run or race.  I have set a few fast 10k times in this shoe, including my current PR, but it also served me well at the hilly Charity Chase Half Marathon.  I would not feel comfortable racing with this shoe in anything other than dry or nearly dry asphalt,  but that clearly is its intended role.

New Balance MRC1600
The 1600 is one of New Balances new racing flats, and it is advertised at a lightweight choice that is suitable for racing up to marathon distance.  For its sub-6 ounce weight, the 1600 has a decent amount of RevLite EVA foam in the midsole, and the grip pattern on the outsole gives it a fair amount of traction.  The upper, which consists of soft, thin mesh with many strategic overlays, is comfortable for a racing flat, although the toe-box is a little pointy.  My 9.5 is very comfy, but it leaves room up front so as not to fit totally snug like my flats do.  If I were to size down to 9.0, I would achieve snugginess, but then I would be crowding my 4rth and 5th toes like I would with the Adios.  Also, after racing Richmond Marathon in this shoe, I find its marathon worthiness dubious.  For me, the optimal distance for this shoe is 13.1.  In fact, I raced my current Half Marathon PR in the 1600 this past New Year's Eve at Freedom Park.  Aside from racing, I do many mile-repeats and other road intervals in the 1600.

New Balance MRC5000
This not only is my lightest racing flat, but it is the lightest shoe I have ever worn, and that includes sandals!  At 3.1 ounces for my size 9, the 5000 is considerably lighter than the box in which it comes.  It uses the same RevLite material as the 1600, but much less of it, and the thin mesh upper lacks the overlays of its marathon-touting sibling.  The nothing-but-mesh upper hugs my foot nicely, and the cushion and traction are surprisingly smooth and reassuring for a shoe that's too light to even serve as a paperweight.  One cannot help but run fast in these flats.  My third run in them was the Huntersville Holiday 5k, which was a decisive PR.  The 5000, as its designation may imply, is a go-to speed racer for 5k's, but I believe it would hold its own at a 10k, and it certainly would be good weapon for 1-mile races, 3ks, or anything in the "shorter" road race category.

There are many varieties of racing flat on the market now, and I would welcome any readers' thoughts and/or reviews of the models listed or any other road flats that I have not had a chance to sample.  Among the list I would like to hear about are the ASICS Gel-Hyperspeed, the new ASICS Blazingfast, Brooks T7, Mizuno Wave Universe 4 (or upcoming 5), Newton MV2, and Saucony A5.  Of course, I have read several praising reviews of these go-fast shoes from various sponsored sources, but any private and objective remarks are welcome comments to this blog.

Do you Run Reckless?

I'm very excited to announce that I now am an official brand ambassador for Reckless Running!  If you have seen me at a race in the last 8 months or so, odds are you have seen me in a Reckless Running singlet.  I'm pumped to represent the homegrown company and share how awesome their athletic apparel line is AND how much they do to better the sport of running.  To those who are reading this, you get to take advantage of this opportunity.  Go to the Reckless Running online store and enter the discount code "CHAS" (case sensitive) in the appropriate field during the checkout process in order to receive 15% off of your order (not counting sale items or shipping).  You can use this code whenever you visit the store.  Now get out there, support our local brand and what they do, and Run Reckless!

Me with Bobby Aswell at NYE Half.
I'm wearing the Coat of Arms singlet.

Sporting the Gray Fray singlet at the
Charlotte Ultra Run.

Me with fellow DARTer Jeremy Alsop,
both wearing the Royal Blue RR racing singlet

Hoodie and tapered warm-up pants (with ankle zippers) by RR.

From the About Us section of the RR homepage:

Anthony Famiglietti, a 2-time Olympian and 6-time US Champion, co-founded Reckless Running with the hopes of changing his sport for the better. Our dream for this brand is to set an example of self reliance and set the stage for many young and older runners alike to follow their dreams.

Our brand is all about runners supporting other runners.  Our clothes help you perform and your dollars help us live out our dreams.  And hopefully we will inspire you to greatness along the way. 

The Reckless Running logo was created to encapsulate and symbolize the philosophy of the brand. The name relates to the logo since we embrace the concept of running with pure reckless abandon. The idea is to abandon fear, trepidation, self doubt, fatigue, lack of focus or anything else that limits individuals from reaching their full potential. The goal is to run free of any pre-disposed limitations set upon us in life either metaphorical or tangible and overcome all barriers we may face with ease.
RR stands out among the sea of sameness in running. We hope you do the same and stand with us to change the sport for the better in the 21st century.

Recap of Charlotte Ultra Run 50k

2013 has been a busy year so far.  It's 35 days into the new year and I have logged well over 300 miles of running, including two 50k's and a 13-mile trail race.  The last of these--the Charlotte Ultra Run 50k (CUR)--was two days ago.  I had to give myself a little time to think about this race in hindsight.  I learned a lot about myself as a runner from this race, and from the weeks leading up to it.
Exactly four weeks prior to CUR, I ran a very successful (according to my goals at the time) Frosty 50k at Salem Lake.  Logic, and most training plans would have it that I take three to four weeks to recover before resuming my regular training, or at least set up a modest recovery/taper pyramid if I had another upcoming race, as I did in the form of CUR.  I did neither of these things.  Instead, I ran my regular pace and mileage beginning the day after Frosty and resumed 20 and 30 mile runs the very next weekend.  Part of it was the fact that CUR was not a focus race, and that my real focus was keeping my training volume high for Umstead without interuptions from a taper/recovery cycle.  I also wanted to experiment a bit and see what I could do without a taper...ya know, to see if all this ultra marathon training was making me tougher, weaker, or some functional combination of the two.
With the early February weather placing the starting tempurature in the mid-twenties, I was glad the race HQ was at a Montessori school with a heated gymnasium.  I was also glad to have picked up all my new Reckless Running race gear and warm up clothes from Fam and Karen the night before.  Fam even lent me his RR arm warmers.

Keeping warm before the start.

CUR took place on Mallard Creek Greenway.  The course consisted of five out-and-back laps with a double turn-around spur near the 5k mark.  There also was a 10k race option that consisted of a single out-and-back on the course.  The pancake-flat course was built for speed. 40% of the surface was unpaved dirt road with some gravel, and the rest was smoothly paved asphalt.  There was water and food at the start/finish and the turn-around, as well as an additional water station about halfway down the path, so we were never more than 1.5 miles from water or aid.  In addition, medical personel were patroling the course on four-wheelers throughout the race.  One could get pampered at a race like this.
As with Frosty, I carried my own water and nutrition and resolved not to waste any time at the aid stations.  When the race began, a handful of people shot out ahead, most of whom I assumed were 10k'ers.  I fell in with a conversational group including last year's female champion Meg Hovis, Bill Shires (who was pacing Meg for much of the race), Jamaar Valentine, and ultra-running guru Jonathan Savage.  Savage could dust most of us if he wanted, but he had raced the mountainous Sultan 50k the previous week and logged over 100 miles of training runs in the brief interim.  He was on another level altogether, although I figured his cumulative training stress might give me a chance to keep him in check.  Soon enough, I realized I was getting caught up in the social front-running pack and establishing too quick of a pace.  I had to force myself to back off.  Jamaar and Savage did the same not long after me, because I caught up to them before we completed the first 10k. 

One more lap to go...

It was easy to get into a rhythm on this course because of its predictability, but this would prove to be a double-edged sword; I was too comfortable running too fast.  In fact, I ran much of the first half at a sub-7:20 pace.  I ate and hydrated at regular intervals and just let the miles pass by.  A couple of regretable restroom stops ate up a few minutes, but I was still on pace for a sub-4 hour 50k, which I guess was my goal.  February 2nd was an appropriate day for this race, because the repetative out-and-backs gave me a Groundhog Day kind of feel.  At 35k, I started to feel the fatigue coming on, and I tried to adjust my pace accordingly, but I could tell I was going to reep what I had sewn.
At the start/finish turn-around (40k), I was happy to hear a couple of familiar voices.  Heidi, my wife, was there to cheer me on, as was fellow ultra-running DARTer Chad Randolph.  With the race clock at 3:11:xx, I muttered that a sub-4 finish was going to be very hard as I passed by Chad.  10k at slightly sub-8 minute miles doesn't sound too hard unless you already have a hard 25 miles on your legs, which I did.  When I got to the 42k mark--which is about as close to a marathon split as the course markings had--I checked my time.  3:20:xx, about the same as my marathon split four weeks earlier at Frosty, but I was feeling a lot more broken down this time.  I think it was here that I started bargaining with myself, which is when paces start to spiral downhill.  I gritted my teeth through two more 8-minute miles and resolved to make it to the 5k mark (45k cumulative) before I walked.  90 seconds later, I started running again, but my 8-minute miles were over.  When I came to the 4k out mark, Savage ran by me, still on his outbound leg.  That meant he had 6k to go, and I had 4k.  Okay, at least I can keep Savage at bay.  Easy does it.  In those last 2 1/2 miles, I threw in two more one-minute walk breaks, but I would rather slog the last couple of miles and come across the finish line strong than drag myself across with a glazed-over facade for want of keeping up a plodding jog.

A bit battered, but finished.

I finished with an official time of 4:03:27, about 200 seconds slower than my goal.  But, I finished in the top ten (9th overall, 8th male), which was another informal goal.  Savage finished about five minutes later, still with an impressive 4:09:xx.  The man is a machine.
So what have I learned?  I learned I can be competitive at a fast 50k even in the midst of over-training, so I'm tougher than I thought...though still not as tough as Jonathan Savage...not even close.  I also have been thinking about this competitive monkey on my back I've been feeding for the past few months.  I've raced A LOT.  If I could channel that competitive energy into just training for Umstead, then I can stop worrying so much about running 100 miles and just know that it's there for me to take.