Jacksonville, Sauer Kraut, BR100 Training and Tapering

Everything seems to be falling into place for the Burning River 100 Endurance Run.  This Saturday I will finally get to face up to the race that has been foremost on my mind for the past several months.  I signed up for BR100 as I began my taper for Boston; I started training for BR100 when the gun went off at Boston (the way I saw it).  Now, I am simply waiting for this weekend.  Training for the 100 miler has not gone exactly according to plan, but I do feel confident.  I didn't exactly get as high mileage in training as I had planned, or as many long long runs (30+); however, I am comfortable with the very high number of 20+ mile training runs I got in, and the good number of back-to-backs and B2B2Bs. 

For the first three and a half weeks of June, I was in Jacksonville, Florida.  This was less-than-ideal for my training schedule, I thought, but at least I was still able to maintain decent mileage.  After a couple weeks there, I was losing confidence.  Everyday I would go out to run and feel sluggish and beat.  From my location, there was very little choice in mixing up running routes.  I had two directions to choose from, and it was 5 miles in either of them before making any worthwhile turns.  It was very hot, and everything was long, straight, flat roads with little shade.  So running was boring and sluggish.  I started to doubt my 100-miler aspirations, but did remain motivated, if that makes sense.  I dragged myself out the door to get those miles in for at least an hour and half or two hours most days.

I tried to make some fun out of it.  One weekend I did a 15-miler to Jacksonville Beach, finishing at a hotel where I met friends for the weekend.  Another day I ran to downtown Jacksonville, which turned out to be exactly 20 miles from where I was.  That was an extremely hot day.  Another 'adventure' was my 'exploration' of the Jacksonville-Balwin Trail, a paved rail-trail path.  I found out about it via google and decided it'd be a decent way to mix things up a bit and get in a long run.  It's a 14.5 mile path.  Like everything else, it was straight, flat, and sunny.  Another very hot day.  I started at one end with a 12-oz Gatorade and two gels.  The Gatorade and one gel were consumed at mile 11ish.  I turned around at the end of the path, 14.5 miles into the run, dreading the next 14.5 miles.  At some point -- maybe with like 10 miles to go or so -- I started walking intermittently and taking breaks.  I was very overheated and thirsty.  I knew there were two water fountains with 5.7 miles to go -- I had seen them on my way out but didn't stop at them.  I struggled along, the thought of the water fountains driving me forward, my pace having dropped to 9 to 10+ minute miles.  I finally reached the fountains, only to find them nonfunctional. Dry.  I cursed them, laughed at myself a little, thought about crying, and realized that I didn't have any choice but to keep going.  Within a half mile, I waved down a passing cyclist, who was kind enough to share with me the coldest, crispest, most refreshing water I may have ever tasted.  I took several swigs from his bottle, enough to feel good enough to keep moving forward. I thanked him profusely, as he may have saved me from some serious heat/hydration problems.  Eventually, I finished the 29-mile run and downed all the things I had been craving out there: chocolate milk, Dr. Pepper, Gatorade, and sweet tea.

Shortly after this run, I started adding a couple miles at night each day.  I would run in the afternoon/evening, usually feeling tired and sluggish, and then go for a shorter run later at night.  I quickly realized that I felt 10 times better running at night than during the day, and that the heat must be to blame for the way I'd been feeling.  Then I took a look at my log -- my running really wasn't going as badly as I was feeling.  The pace for most of my running was acceptable, and I was doing decent miles.  And that was with some pretty intense heat and minimal fueling during the runs.  Even that 29-miler where I blew up in the heat - counting all the breaks and walking and everything, it was still 9:29 pace.  I could live with that, considering it is a 100-miler I'm training for, after all. 

So my confidence boosted a bit, and I started to feel pretty good about where I was at.  I left Jacksonville and came back to Maryland.  After running 91 miles in 7 days (beginning with that 29-miler from hell), I ran the 1/2 Sauer 1/2 Kraut Marathon in Pennypack Park, Philadelphia.  This race was put on my the same folks as the Dirty German 50k.  I figured I would run however I felt, which would probably turn out to be about 3:30, maybe 3:20 if I had a good day for some reason.  The first mile felt tough.  I let the faster folks go ahead and do their thing, figuring I would just settle in somewhere in the front-middle of the pack  But I felt like I was pushing, and then figured out why when I saw the first mile was a 6:30.  So I slowed down a bit and tried to find a rhythm.  For some reason, that rhythm was still around 7-minute pace, which I kept thinking I would pay for.  The course was basically an out-and-back x2.  I came through halfway in 1:33, saw my dad, and told myself this second lap would definitely be significantly slower.  But I actually started feeling better.  As I approached the halfway point, I counted the people who were ahead of me as the course doubled back on itself.  I think I was in 12th or something and, based on the gap, it seemed like there was maybe a chance to pull in a couple guys to break into the top 10.  So I did; I slowly picked people off, as I started feeling really good, surprisingly.  I finished with a 3:07 for 9th place.  When I got home, I went out for 6 more miles, still feeling pretty good.

I had a couple of good weeks of running back here in Maryland, where I actually have some hills to train on, before beginning to taper.  I volunteered this weekend at the inaugural Endless Summer 6 Hour run, which was a big success at the tail end of a serious heat wave.  I was there to help out with the race and help crew Jackie as much as I could, as she ran her first timed event like this.  She ran a phenomenal race, completing over 41 miles, less than a half mile behind my good friend Ted, who won the race overall.  It was fun to be out there, and pretty inspiring really.  Definitely got me stoked for this weekend - just hoping I can deliver like Jackie and Ted did!

So that's the last month and a half or so.  Overall, it's gone pretty well and I feel totally ready for BR100.  I'm not nervous...just really excited.  Maybe the nerves will come as the starting time gets closer, but that really can't come soon enough!  I've been focusing on this for months, and I'm so stoked to get out there and hit it.

Dirty German Endurance Fest - 50K

   After a night of dancing and less than three hours of sleep, getting up for this race was not particularly easy.  But this is what I'm all about.  So after a little over an hour drive to Philadelphia, Jackie and I arrived at Pennypack Park for this 50K that we must have been crazy to actually sign up for.  There were three races taking place at the same time that morning: a 25K, a 50K, and a 50 mile.  Still, though, there were a lot more cars there parked along the side of the road than I was expecting.

Jackie and I: night before race (left), after race (right)

   I wasn't really sure how I would feel for this race.  Like the Delaware Marathon, and the Trail Dawgs race, this was a 'training race'.  I was out there mainly to have a good time and maybe push it a little bit if I was feeling sparky.  So I started out nice and easy, at about a 9-minute pace with Jackie.  It was weird to think we were within the Philadelphia city limits, running on single track trail along a creek, especially considering some of the areas we had just driven through to get there.
   After three or four miles, I decided I felt good and would pick up my pace a little.  So I started picking people off.  I'd run faster until I caught up with someone, stick with them for a minute to see if they wanted to chat or whatever, then move up to the next person along the trail.  This went on for about an hour.  About 55 minutes into the race, I caught up with a group of 4 or 5 who seemed to be moving along at a decent pace.  Then I took a 2-minute pit stop in a porta-pot.  The course is two 25-kilometer loops, and the second half of the loop has a stretch of a few miles on a paved path through the park.  When I came out of my pit stop, I sped along this path until I caught back up with that same group.  It contained a woman running the 50K, one or two men running the 50K, and one or two men running the 25K.  They were pretty talkative, and moving at a good pace, so I decided to latch on with them.
   One of the 50K-ers in the group was named Scott, who is training for a 100 miler.  He and I got to talking, and there seemed to be an unspoken agreement at some point that we both wanted to ditch this group.  So we sped up a bit and continued talking; the course had turned back to mostly single track trail by this point.  Scott was more a veteran of the mountains, me being more experienced on roads.  This course was mostly flat, with only a little bit of up and down in the first few and last few miles of the loop.  Everything was runnable; all hills were short, and only a couple were steep.  I could still tell, though, that Scott was stronger on the ascents than I, and I seemed to be a little stronger on the flats.  We both seemed to handle the descents well.  We talked about this, and decided to work together for the remainder of the race.  We had no idea what place we were in at this point, but figured we could continue to move up.

Scott and I working together, coming through half way

    Scott and I went through the first loop together, arriving at the half-way point at about 2:05.  That sounded pretty good, I thought.  As we continued on to the second loop, I kept telling myself I was going to slow down a little and chill for a bit, but that never really seemed to happen.  We pushed the next several miles, and before I knew it, we were approaching the aid station at the far end of the loop.  The volunteers told us we were sixth and seventh place, and we could see fifth place just up ahead.  I told Scott to go ahead, I was going to hang out for a minute and get hydrated.  There were 8.25 miles to go from this aid station.  Scott took off after the fifth place guy, and I ate a potato and some orange slices to re-energize.  I started running about 100 meters behind Scott, but felt better than I had going into the aid station.  So I took off along the flat road section for a couple miles.  Shortly after the course turned back onto the trail, I passed the guy who had been in 5th place going up a short hill.  He was walking, so I felt good about staying ahead of him.
   I had been maintaining about a 20 second distance behind Scott.  At an aid station with 4 miles to go, I stopped and took my time to rehydrate and re-energize.  But as I put a piece of potato into my mouth, that same guy came around the corner approaching the aid station, and I immediately took off again mid-chew.  About a mile later, I came into a short clearing and saw a runner 50 or 60 meters ahead of me looking over his shoulder.  Something told me he was a tired 50K runner.  I quickly caught him, confirmed that he was in the 50K, and encouraged him on.  Now I was in 5th place.  I was having a blast.  I felt fantastic.  It was the final few miles of the race and I was continuing to speed up.  It was fun seeing how many people I could catch.  After going through some very windy single track, the trail straightened out a bit and I could see I was still about 20 seconds behind Scott.  With maybe 2 miles to go, I decided to shoot the gap.  I caught up with him and we ran together through some of the small rolling hills, but I could tell he was tired.  I was hoping the two of us would run together to the very end and have a gentleman's race to the finish, but I ended up putting a little distance on him.  I seriously felt awesome, and I kept speeding up all the way to the finish.  My time ended up being 4:07, so I ran a negative split by a couple of minutes.

Delaware Marathon

   After my highest 12-day mileage streak ever and a 3-day mini taper, I approached the Delaware Marathon on Sunday, May 15th with indefinite expectations.  I thought it'd be awesome to run a sub-2:55, but my legs were tired on a short run the day before so I wasn't too sure about that.  Anything sub-3 would be cool.  But the point of this marathon was to run on tired legs.  I wanted it to be basically an all-out effort, but obviously not a PR.  So I went out at 6:30 pace and decided to see how long it would take to die, and then just keep pushing through it after that.
   I made it 6 miles a little under 6:30 pace.  Then came the first hill, which was big.  I was excited to run this race because the 2006 Delaware Marathon was my first, five years ago now.  However, the course has changed since then.  When I ran it in '06, it was 4 loops and almost entirely flat.  Since they changed the course, I had heard that it became quite hilly.  It's now two loops.  So you hit the big hill from mile 6-7ish and 19-20ish, then a slightly shorter but still steep hill at the beginning of mile 12 and 25.
    So after that first hill, my pace slowed, and the majority of my miles for the rest of the race were in the low 7 minute range.  As intended, I was tired, and it was pretty difficult.  I had gone through the half in 1:27 something, and was happy with my 3:03 finish.

The 2:43 is NOT my time.

      Next up is a 50k this coming Sunday, May 22nd.  It appears to be a small trail race.  I'm excited, as it will be my first 50k race. 

100 Mile Training and the Trail Dawgs Marathon (4/30)

Well I’m definitely now in what I would consider the full swing of my training for the Burning River 100 miler.  I’m writing this to keep track of how my training has been going, what I’ve been doing, how I’ve been feeling, in case I need/want to come back and reference it later.  If you are reading this and you are not me, then I hope it’s not a waste of your time and maybe you get something out of it.

Since I was racing Boston for a PR, I didn’t want to sacrifice fresh legs in that race by beginning training before April 18^th.  That said, signing up for the 100 miler as I entered my taper for Boston was not the best decision for taming the antsy-ness and desire to get out and move around that comes naturally with tapering. 

                So the Boston Marathon on 4/18 basically served as Day 1 of 100-miler-specific training.  That was 15 days ago now (that’s it?).  I’ve been focusing on running on tired/trashed legs, decreasing recovery time from races and long runs, and doing more (than usual) running at a pace that keeps my heart rate relatively low.  These seem like reasonable objectives in 100 mile training.  Am I doing it right?  I dunno..

                The four days directly following Boston were shake-out runs of 5 to 6 miles at whatever pace was manageable on the recovering legs.  I don’t use a heart rate monitor, but the idea was to keep the HR low and just let the legs shake out.  Then that Saturday, Jackie and I ran essentially the first 21.5 miles of the JFK course…approximately 15 miles on the App Trail at a slow but difficult at times pace, then pushing a bit harder for 4-5 miles on the C&O Canal towpath before cooling down.  It was a tough run, three and a half hours on our feet, with my legs probably still a bit trashed from Boston and post-Boston.  That week, counting the marathon, came out to 77 miles…which was actually my longest week of 2011 so far.

                I followed that week with a 74 mile week, made up mostly of 5 to 10 mile runs in the 7:30ish/mile range, three two-a-days (Tues-Thurs), and my first day off since Boston on Friday.  Then, my next significant training run/race!  I returned to the Trail Dawg Triple Crown Marathon, which I had done for the first time in 2010.  (I’m actually not sure what exactly to call this race…it probably doesn’t have an “official” name, cuz that’s how the Trail Dawgs roll.)  It’s an awesome, low key trail marathon that does the same loop twice, with 4 significant (knee+ deep) stream crossings, rolling hills (some of them pretty steep), mud, and a squiggly spray-painted line for a starting line (where the gun goes off a fashionable 5 to 10 minutes late). 

                I went into this race thinking, “If I take this hard, although my legs are tired, I could potentially make it my first race victory, depending on who shows up.”  When I saw the kid who won it last year on the starting line (he’s my age), the competitive spirit that festers in the depths of my heart fired up.  “Maybe I’ll tail him, see how he goes out, and make a decision from there how I’ll run this race.”  I also needed to see how my legs would feel…doing squats for the first time in at least a year two days before the race was not the best idea.

                Well, the defending champ went flying out right from the get-go and I was like, “Uhh, nevermind.”  Then my coach, who was also running the marathon, said something to me to egg me on, and seconds later I was flying down the hill after this dude.  My first two miles were sub-7 pace.  I felt okay, but knew I wasn’t going to be running a 3 hour marathon on this course in this condition.  I was staying 50 meters or so behind the guy, and he looked back several times during that first mile to see how closely he was being followed.  Then I thought, (here’s that competitive spirit), “Maybe I can stay here for a couple miles and scare him enough to make him go out too fast, and then maybe he’ll pay for it later.” Nothing personal, if you happen to ever be reading this, dude. 

                I settled back and ran with the next two marathoners, talking a bit with one of them, a guy named Art.  The trail was crowded with half-marathoners (who started 10 minutes before the marathon), so I took my time and was patient with passing them on the single track.  I decided I was in no rush.  I stopped for about 20 seconds at an aid table to grab a drink at mile 6ish, while Art and the other guy kept going.  I ran by myself for most of the rest of the loop, passing groups of half-marathoners occasionally.  On some of the open stretches, I could see that I was within 100 meters or so of the third place guy.

Coming through the half at the end of the first loop

                 That was the situation at the completion of the first loop (the halfway mark).  I thought I was gradually sneaking up on 3^rd place.  A few miles into the second loop, though, I stopped seeing him and I decided not to push it too much.  I stopped to pee, enjoyed the stream crossing, grabbed a quick bite at the aid tables, and shifted back into “ultra” mode.  I had fun running the second loop completely alone, at an easy pace.  The final stream crossing comes at 23 miles or so, then some hills to the finish.

                Coming up a hill with less than 2 miles to go, half jogging, half walking, I rounded a sharp turn and looked up.  There, 20 meters in front of me, was my friend the defending champion.  I knew that if he did crash and ended up not winning, but still beat me, then he would take the age-group award (which I won the previous year when he won overall).  So if he was not going to get first, I had to beat him.  I took a couple breaths, shook out my legs, and broke out into a decent pace run.  He informed me I was the third marathoner now, I gave him some encouragement (and maybe a slight heckle), and made my way by him.  I kept up a pretty good clip for that last mile or so (now it was me looking back occasionally to make sure I wasn’t being followed), and finished third with a 3:37:xx, about 10 minutes behind Art, who ended up winning.  I felt fantastic at the end.  I finished maybe 2 minutes after the 5k race started.  If I had come in 2 minutes earlier, I might have hopped into the 5k for a “cool down”.  

Strong at the finish, probably saying "Got him!"

                I love that race.  The Trail Dawgs are a fun group with some very enjoyable events.  I was very pleased with how this “training race” went and how well I felt afterward.  Along with my training the last couple weeks, it has made me very confident about my 100 mile training.  Next up is the Delaware Marathon (road) on May 15^th and the Dirty German Endurance Fest 50k on the 22^nd.  I think I’ll do a mini-taper for those races.

Coach Nate on final straight, sees me approaching him

Nate breaks out in sprint as I chase him with wet shirt

 

115th Boston Marathon - 4/18/2011

   I love racing.  Whether it's racing hard for a PR attempt or participating in lots of events for social and/or training purposes, I love it.  This past fall, I did a lot of races - some of them hard, some of them for fun.  Early this semester (or, calendar year), I came back to school after what I considered a hard fall season of running.  On a run one day in January, I decided that I wanted to focus on training for a marathon PR this semester, and not run so many races.  I told myself on that run that I could get myself in 2:50 shape by the time Boston rolled around.  I figured if I was in shape to do 2:50 on a flat road course, I could do a 2:52 or 2:53 at Boston (being the relatively difficult course that it is.  I know Boston is by no means the hardest of road marathon courses; however, in my previous two attempts at it I was slowed significantly by the hills in Newton.  2010 was considerably better than 2009, though, so hopefully I would continue that trend and run the course even smarter in 2011 (in addition to being in better shape). 
   By the time I arrived in Boston 3 months after that January run, I felt confident about running a PR.  I put in 11 weeks at over 60mpw, a couple good tune-up races, and plenty of long runs.  Not particularly high mileage, but consistent and quality training, I thought.  My mindset going into the race was this: There was no reason I shouldn't be able to PR (which would mean beating 2:55:14); 2:52-2:53 seemed like a pretty reasonable goal; if I had a perfect race, I could possibly run 2:50 or get just under that into a 2:49:high.  My plan was to go through the half in 1:25:00 and maintain that 6:30 pace through mile 16 (1:44:00).  Then, I expected I'd slow a bit on the hills over the next 4-5 miles, and hopefully be able to pick it back up for the last 5.
   I forgot my Garmin in the hotel race morning.  That was fine, though.  I'd focus more on how I felt than on my exact pace.  Race morning was chilly and quite windy, but the wind was supposed to be a good tailwind.  I was glad to be back at Boston for the third straight year with all my teammates.  Always a good time.  When we got to Hopkinton, I put in my headphones and listened to Eminem until it was time to go.  I was definitely feeling ready.
   The gun went off and I immediately settled in to my race.  I felt like this could be my day.  I was focusing on my own race and how I felt.  About 8 miles in, I felt fantastic, slightly below 6:30 pace.  I started thinking that maybe I was underestimating myself a little bit.  2:52 seemed very do-able, not just pretty reasonable.  And that 2:50 "perfect race" I had been thinking about started seeming a little more attainable.  I was going for broke.
   I went through 10 miles at 64:10.  Then the half-marathon mark came at 1:24:22, still feeling very good.  Mile 16 came at 1:42:37 on my watch.   So I was running just a little bit ahead of my plan - this put me at about a 6:25 average through Mile 16.  Next came the hills, but I still felt good about maintaining my pace.  PRing became almost a certainty at this point, provided nothing disastrous happened.  As expected, my miles slowed a little bit over the course of the hills - 6:45, 6:42, 6:26, 6:48, 7:10.  That 7:10 was the mile including "Heartbreak Hill."  Ok, so now I'm tired.  But still feel "good".  Just had to hang on now.  I came off the hills with a few miles at sub-6:30.  This was happening.  I felt a rush for the last several miles.
   For at least the last 4 miles, I'd say I was running right at my threshold.  If I pushed any harder, I felt like my legs would give out.  At one point, I stepped in a very small pot-hole.  If it were any bigger, I'm sure my leg would not have been able to keep my balance.  I'm not sure how long I would have stayed on the ground.  With 4, 3, 2 miles left, 2:50 started to seem attainable if I could really push hard.  Of course, the usual roaring Boston crowds were a great asset.
   Mile 23....Mile 24...Citgo sign.  Right on Hereford.  Left on Boylston.  I put in a solid kick on that final stretch down Boylston St.  With about a tenth of a mile to go, I passed Joan Benoit Samuelson and made some faces at the TV camera following her.  I crossed the line in 2:51:02 officially.  Totally stoked about a 4:12 PR and what I considered a very smartly run Boston.  I'm extremely proud of my team for coming in 12th of 65 in the team competition.  TOP 10 NEXT YEAR!!?
   Obviously I'm excited about the PR, the smart, relatively consistent race, and the team result.  I stayed very true to my plan/goal, coming pretty close to my "best case scenario" race.  Here are my 5k times:

0k-5k  19:44

5k-10k  20:14

10k-15k  19:53

15k-20k  20:10

20k-25k  19:46

25k-30k  20:31

30k-35k  20:59

35k-40k  20:27

40k-finish  9:18

So now that Boston is over, my focus becomes the Burning River 100 on July 30th.  I felt "great" after Boston...sore, but not bad.  Today (Tuesday, the day after), I ran a nice and easy 6.5 miles (at 8:30 avg.).  It felt good to shake out, and I feel comfortable about amping up the mileage now.  I'll have a few races of marathon or longer distance coming up in the next month here to use for training...maybe a 50 mile PR? ...We'll see.

This Queen of Hearts blew across the street right in front of me on Saturday before the race.  I decided that I liked it and wanted to run with it.  Maybe I'll keep it.

National Marathon - 3:10 Pacer - 3/26/2011

   The SunTrust National Marathon is a nice figure-8 course through all parts of D.C., without repeating the Marine Corps Marathon course at all, or very little.  I returned to National this March for the third straight year as a pacer.  In 2009, I was a 3:10 pacer, but I was secretly using it as a 'race' to qualify for Boston.  Luckily, I managed to be right on with a 3:10:37 chip time, 3:10:59 gun time that year.  Last year, in 2010, I paced 3:15.  With a slightly fast first half, I slowed the pace group down a little bit in the second half and came across in 3:14:46 chip time, 3:15:40 gun time.  That year, the highlight was a man named Tony, who I met the day before the race at our Pace Team table at the expo.  He was dead-set on qualifying for Boston (needed 3:15) after having had some frustrating attempts.  He was the only person to stay right by my side that entire race, as I brought him in at 3:14:high.  He was ecstatic.  And I felt like I was qualifying for the first time all over again myself.  That remains one of the highlights of my running career.
   This year, Tony was back, and gunning for a sub-3:10.  This would help guarantee that he'll be able to register for Boston 2012 before it fills up, with the new registration process.  He found me a few miles into the race and latched on to me once again.

Mile 12 - Tony is the one waving

   I was joined this year by another 3:10 pacer, Ben Waite.  It was nice having him so that we could constantly keep each other in check with the pace.  That was especially good considering I only slept 2.5 hours the night before and had barely eaten anything - wasn't sure how that was gonna work out.  We were both wearing Garmins, but they were not agreeing with the Mile Markers on the course at all (when there were markers, that is).  We decided it best to go by Mile Markers, though. 
   We stepped on the timing mat at the 13.1 mile mark at 1:35:00 on my watch.  I was pretty stoked about that.

Mile 15 - Me, Ben, Tony (pink socks) and the rest of the 3:10 gang

    As the race progressed, the group got gradually smaller, but we maintained a nice pack through mile 23 or so.  The course is generally flat, with the exception of uphills from about mile 6 to mile 8, and slightly rolling hills for the last 3 miles or so.  We hit those rollers with a small group still latched on to us, including Tony.  Tony was expressing concern that he started closer to the front of the pack than Ben and I did, so if we all crossed at the same time, his time would be a little slower.  We offered encouragement to the runners going up the hills, reassuring them that we were on pace.  The group strung out a little bit over the last mile or two.  I was focusing on Tony, making sure I got him across in time again.  The last couple miles were strikingly similar to the same miles in 2010.  Tony was clearly putting out and hurting.  We got very vocal as we approached the finish, and Tony kept asking all the way to the last tenth of a mile, "We good!? Are we gonna make it!?" 
   Ben and I crossed the finish line in 3:09:36 chip time, 3:10:10 gun time.  Running a reliable race as a pacer is definitely just as satisfying to me as running a great race of my own.  Prior to this marathon, I had expressed that if I had to choose between running a reliable 3:10 at National and running a PR at Boston on April 18th, I'd choose the reliable pacing.  It's a truly awesome experience, which I highly recommend to any seasoned runners. 

Tony sprints in to the finish right around that turn

    And Tony?  He crossed the line with a chip time of 3:09:52.  He made his goal by 8 seconds, PRing by 5 minutes, and was almost as ecstatic as he was at the finish line a year earlier when he qualified for Boston for the first time.

Tony, Me

The 3:10 pacers

Grand Canyon Rim-Rim-Rim 3/13/2011

Early in the fall of 2010, I began entertaining the idea of travelling to the Grand Canyon to run Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim.  I had never been to the Grand Canyon before, but I figured if I was going to see it, why not see the entire thing while getting in some extraordinary mountain trail running?  Like all adventurous ideas that enter my head, I thought this would remain just a dream until February 2011, when I purchased a flight to Arizona for March 11^th with two friends.  It was actually going to happen.

We landed in Phoenix at almost midnight on Friday, March 11^th, without any kind of plan whatsoever.  We started driving in a rental car toward the Canyon, but decided it’d be a better idea to just find a cheap hotel for the night and make the drive the next day.  After a couple different hotels, we found one that only had its “deluxe” rooms available…for $70.  Perfect.

After a beautiful, scenic drive the next day, we got to Grand Canyon National Park and checked out the trailhead on the South Rim.  It was probably 60 degrees and very windy, with a little bit of residual snow lying around in spots.  We went to a park office to inquire about conditions on the North Rim…I’d been told to expect deep snow over there at this time of year.  The ranger we spoke with reinforced that.  She said we would definitely need snowshoes and told us the latest report was of 41 inches of snow on the North Rim.  We should expect knee- or waist-deep snow for at least the last few miles up to the North Rim, if we make it that far, she said.  She wasn’t very happy to even be telling us all this.  Our run was not a good idea in her mind but, “I can’t tell you not to,” she said. 

Honestly, after talking to the ranger and reading a bunch of signs and posters about the conditions on the North Rim, we were a little worried that we wouldn’t be able to do the entire run.  They made it sound nearly impossible at this time of year.  And we didn’t have snowshoes, trekking poles, crampons, or even long pants…and they’re talking about waist-deep snow?  Ah well, still worth a try, we figured.  We’ll do what we can.  We kind of thought all the warnings were slightly exaggerated.

We drove into Tusayan, the very small town about 10 minutes from the Bright Angel trailhead on the South Rim.  After getting some food supplies for the run at the General Store, we checked into the cheapest hotel in town: the 7 Mile Lodge (highly recommended; nice folks, free wi-fi, fridge, and like 60 bucks). 

Sunday, March 13^th.  3:00am wake-up.  We get dressed and packed, eat a little breakfast, and drive to the trailhead, trying to figure out exactly what time it is.  We heard that Arizona doesn’t participate in daylight savings, which just went into effect at 2:00am.  So it took a while to figure out if we were actually starting this run at 4:00, or if it was really 5:00.  Charles’ and Ted’s smart phones said 5:00, my dumb phone said 4:00, and my watch was still on east coast time so it said 6:00.  But it was really 7:00 on the east coast now.  Whatever, we started the run at about 4:00am Arizona time. 

Ted, Charles and I set off in the pitch black darkness (with headlamps of course) and very quickly ran into the first reason why running in the Grand Canyon at this time of year is not ideal.  The switchbacks of the Bright Angel trail were covered in solid ice almost continuously for at least the first two miles.  Those first two miles took almost an hour.  What’s the level of fear right under “scared to death”?  I think that if I had feared for my life, I would have turned around or stopped and waited hours for the sun to rise and melt the ice.  But I didn’t, so I must have been not quite that scared.  The three of us all fell countless times on the ice, usually on parts of the trail where our headlamps could not illuminate the magnitude of the drop when looking over the side.  The only thing that kept me going, I think, was feeling the temperature rise gradually as we lost elevation and knowing that the lower we got, the less ice there would be.  Plus, I wanted that North Rim.  There was no turning back.

Then I started thinking, if it’s this icy on the South Rim, maybe it really will be bad on the North Rim.  Only one way to find out, though…

Ted on the Bright Angel trail, past most of the ice

 After an hour or so, we were passed the ice, and we continued down the trail toward the river at a leisurely pace in the dark, just taking it nice and easy for the early miles.  We reached the Bright Angel campground on the other side of the Colorado River at about 7:00am, and took our first solid food break.  Unfortunately, Charles had been dealing with an injury for several weeks and it was hurting him too much to continue at this point, so he turned around to head back up to the South Rim while Ted and I continued on northward. 

This is me coming across the bridge

For the first 6 or 7 miles on the North Kaibab trail, Ted and I were making very good time.  The trail gains elevation only gradually, so we were able to run at a good pace for several miles.  The sun and the temperature were rising, but it was still quite comfortable.  And the views were astounding. 

Our routine became to take a break roughly every hour.  Somewhere between Cottonwood Campground (6.8 miles from North Rim) and Roaring Springs (4.7 miles from North Rim) we took a break.  We were 5 hours into the run.  We did not know exactly where we were, or even how far those check points were from the North Rim, so, out of curiosity we took out the trail map to try to get an idea.  “That must be that bridge we just crossed,” we reasoned, pointing at the map, “which means we only have like two or three miles to the top!”  I think it was at this break that I tried sending a text message: “Think only 2mi to north rim. Not sure. Still 60 degrees probly. Trail getting very steep. 5 hours. Food break.”

Our spirits somewhat lifted by this revelation, we continued upward as the trail got steeper.  Every once and a while, I would look up at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon towering above us and wonder aloud if we were seriously going all the way up there.  Ted wondered the same thing.  Two miles to go and our destination still looked thousands of feet above us?  Something had to be wrong.  It can’t be that we were wrong about our estimation from looking at the map.  No, certainly not.  “That must not be the rim…that must be some other peak that goes above the rim,” we reasoned, looking straight up.  Our minds were tricking us.

We reached Roaring Springs, 4.7 miles from the rim.  Again, at the time, we didn’t know that it was 4.7 miles.  Another look at the map, and we realized that we must have been wrong before about only having 2 miles to go.  Now, we figured, it most only be about 2 miles.  I think it was a combination of our minds playing tricks on us and the map not showing enough detail.  Had we pulled out the trail guide that labeled all of the checkpoints and their distances from the rim, we would not have kept frustrating ourselves so much. 

As we continued past Roaring Springs, I stopped believing what my mind was telling me.  Even if I really thought we only had a couple of miles to go this time, I wouldn’t let myself believe it…if that makes sense.  Then I started remembering hearing about the Supai Tunnel, another checkpoint which I thought I remembered hearing was less than 2 miles from the top.  I knew we hadn’t seen it yet, so I came to terms with the fact that we had not been reading the map correctly.  It was 3 miles between Roaring Springs and Supai Tunnel…3 long, steep miles.  Still, Ted and I would look up once in a while and try to convince ourselves that we weren’t going all the way up to the highest cliff we could see.  We were, though.

As we approached Supai Tunnel, we started seeing more snow.  The temperature was still fine, though, probably in 50’s.  Our skepticism about the levels of snowfall on the north side was soon eliminated.  Luckily, most of the snow was packed enough so that we could step on top of it without falling through.  However, countless times we would be moving along and suddenly have one leg waist-deep in snow.  Eventually we reached Supai Tunnel.  Now, it was less than 2 miles to go, and we knew that for sure this time.  The rim still appeared to be very high above us. 

That last 1.7 miles must have taken at least an hour.  The trail was covered in that deep snow except for short breaks that got a lot of sunlight.  Having one leg fall completely into the snow so often got very frustrating, and drained all kinds of energy each time.  I felt like the trail was deliberately messing with me.  We wanted the North Rim, though, and we really were almost there.

Cacti and 80 degrees in the Canyon - pine forests and waist-deep snow on the North Rim

 Finally, we reached the trailhead.  The North Rim is a pine forest with several feet of snow on the ground, although the temperature was still probably mid-40’s or low-50’s.  I saw that there was a road, albeit snow-covered, so I tried reaching it.  But I couldn’t walk on top of the snow up there without falling through.  I took about three steps, falling all the way through each time and working my leg back out, before an excruciating Charlie Horse took over my left hip.  I laughed at myself as I rolled in pain with my entire left leg stuck in the snow, exhausted and feeling defeated by the trail and the snow.  Ted and I then worked our way over to some rocks to sit down on and take a break.  I tried sending this text message: “7h20min. North rim. Finally. Trail just kicked our ass. Very snowy up here but doable”. 

Our break on the North Rim lasted about 30 minutes, probably.  Then we started back down the North Kaibab trail.  We went slowly and carefully for the first couple miles through the snow, but still making much better time that we had been on the way up.  We passed Supai Tunnel and all the snow, and started making good time.  We stopped at a little waterfall flowing down the rocks on the side of the trail to fill up our Camelbaks and water bottles.  That water was perfect: ice-cold and crystal clear.  Our good pace continued all the way back down to the river, getting even steadier as the trail evened out for the last several miles before the river.  

Ted and I seemed to be beginning to feel and think exactly alike.  Going up an incline one behind the other, the person in front would start walking just as the person behind would start saying, “Let’s walk this one.”  Every time one of us felt the need to walk, so did the other.  And every time one of us felt like speeding up, so did the other.  The Canyon seemed to be treating us quite equally. 

We reached Bright Angel campground, the campground just before the river on the way back, and stopped for a break and Camelbak refill.  Then we continued to push the next couple of miles back on the Bright Angel trail before it became too steep to run.  We hiked probably the last 7 miles or so.  There were times when one or both of us considered running for a little bit, but decided against it.  We were exhausted, and the sun was beginning to set.  We were expecting to be finished well before sundown, but ended up hiking the last 2 miles or so in the dark.  The trail was still a bit icy up toward the South Rim.  Luckily it wasn’t completely frozen over again yet, though, so it wasn’t dangerous.

Ted and I reached the Bright Angel trailhead a little over 15 hours after we began that morning.  We were proud, tired, dirty, hungry, and sore.  We severely underestimated the Grand Canyon, especially in terms of weather conditions.  Lesson learned: next time, go later in the year, probably in April.

Ted and me - all done.

 I felt comfortable with my fluid and food consumption during the run, although, thinking back afterward, I realized that I really didn’t eat much considering what I was doing.  I ate two wraps that I made with a cheese stick and two pieces of turkey inside a tortilla, and about 4 ounces of the best trail mix I’ve ever tasted.  I consumed 9 gels, and I’m guessing about 6 liters of water, about half of which was mixed with electrolyte tablets.  I used the toilet paper that I brought along once, about 5 hours into the run, and watered the plants 2 or 3 times.  Afterward, I was as sore as I could ever remember being for a day or two, but was back to running normally in 4 or 5 days.

Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim was an extraordinary experience, and one that I definitely plan on doing again someday.  I highly recommend it for anyone with an affinity for trail/mountain running and some of the most beautiful sights nature has to offer.  If you’re going to see the Grand Canyon, you might as well see the whole thing.