Rockledge Rumble DNF

Lining up for the 7 a.m. start.

I've always said that the only way for me to stay motivated to run consistently is to have a run on the calendar for which I am training.  I will add to that: I need a run on the calendar AND a specific training plan to get me going every day.

I registered for the Rockledge Rumble 50K and had some spurts of decently consistent training, but never made a training calendar and didn't train as consistently as I needed to.  I knew I wasn't in 50K shape, and e-mailed the race director to request placement in a shorter distance (they had a 15K and 30K).  She wrote back saying all distances are full, and that I couldn't change.  I debated just showing up and getting my race t-shirt, but decided to give it a shot and see if I could get in under the 8:30 time limit.

The good news is that this was a perfect day for running.  Cool and cloudy most of the morning, it was shorts and short sleeves weather (for running).  It did warm up a bit later, and the sun came out, but it was still comfortable.  And, of course, the trails on the north short of Lake Grapevine are terrific to run on.

I considered walking the first 10 miles to conserve energy, but decided I would just take it slow.  I started at the back of the pack, and stayed there.  For the first 10 miles or so I kept a pretty steady 14 minute pace, just what I needed to finish by the cutoff, with a little time to spare.  The next 7-8 miles, I slowed 2-3 minutes per mile, walking some, but still within time for the cutoff.  But after 20 miles, I tried to run but just couldn't get my body to cooperate.  I thought after I got to the last aid station I could find a new reserve of energy and pick up the pace for the last 5 miles back to the start.  Alas, when the aid station came in sight, they were packing up, and informed me that I had missed the cutoff by 5 minutes.  DNF for me.

I hate that I didn't push myself to pick up the pace, but I did enjoy my time on the trail.  If I can't be at Floyd Casey Stadium cheering for the Bears (They played on Thursday night this week.), running--or walking--at Lake Grapevine is a great alternative.

Next race, I'll make a training calendar!

These races could not happen without a ton of race volunteers.
These ladies would disagree with my statement that today was a great shorts and short sleeves day!

More terrific aid station volunteers.  Thanks for being there!

The trails and the trees and the views of the lake make this trail system and this race worth showing up for.  So close to the city, but so easy to feel all alone in the woods.

Me with R.D. Cindy Melder, who told me not to be a sissy and man up for my 50K.  OK, she didn't exactly say it like that.  But she deserves a boatload of thanks and good wishes for doing such a great job for the second year in a row, organizing D/FW's premier trail race.  Thanks Cindy!

The Ghost Runner, by Bill Jones

There are runners, and there are people obsessed with running, and then there are the runners who go way beyond what any other runner can and will do.  I am not sure I have ever read of anyone as committed to running as John Tarrant, and who gave up so much for the sport.  In The Ghost Runner: The Epic Journey of the Man They Couldn't Stop, Bill Jones tells Tarrant's story, a tragic tale of a guy whose way to short life had way too much frustration and loss for one runner to bear.

Well, maybe that's overstating the case.  But read The Ghost Runner and you'll see what I'm talking about.  After being sent away to a grim boarding school during WW2, and losing his mother shortly after the war, the teenage Tarrant took up, among other things, boxing.  He had decent athleticism and enjoyed modest success.  In less than two year, "he'd fought just eight times, pocketing a grand total of seventeen pounds."  His "informal recompense fell way short of the costs Tarrant was incurring" traveling by bus to a nearby town to train.  "It was pocket money and nothing more. . . . John's boxing had already cost him far more than he'd ever earned from it."

Later, as John began running, he revealed that "professional" boxing career when asked whether he had ever competed professionally in athletics.  Honest to a fault, Tarrant dutifully revealed his compensation.  Thus began a decades-long battle against amateur athletic officials.  A world-class runner, Tarrant dreamed of the Olympics.  He ran in races around England, but, prohibited from entering due to his "professional" status, he arrived in disguise, throwing off his coat and hat and jumping into the fray just as the race began.  Race officials tried to chase him down, but Tarrant was too fast (and in at least one case, Tarrant's brother Victor aggressively drove officials away, nearly running them down with his motorcycle).

No number for the ghost runner, and no official recognition, even when he won.

Determined to win, thinking that, even when race officials and results refuse to acknowledge his presence, they can't ignore him if he crosses the line first, Tarrant trained constantly.  He ran to work, ran at lunch, ran after work, ran monster runs on the weekends.  He eventually began to enter longer races, setting world records in the 40 mile and 100 mile distances.  The Comrades ultramarathon in South Africa became his obsession, leading to him living there for months at a time in order to train and enter the race.

British authorities eventually gave him status to race officially in the U.K., but international racing was out.  He ghost ran Comrades, a race in New York, and countless races in England and South Africa.  His faithful wife was a running widow, allowing him room to train continually, use their limited money and time to travel to races, and even to live abroad to pursue his dream of winning Comrades.  (I feel bad leaving for the day to run a race; I can't imagine leaving for a year.)

His life was marked by frustration.  His battle with the amateur athletics authorities went on and on.  Some of his fellow runners and friends said he talked of nothing else, and talked about it a lot.  He would have loved nothing more than to run for his country in international races, but he never could, officially.  He battled stomach problems that crippled him, knocking him out of several races (yet he would win races and set course records sometimes, in spite of his having to take breaks to drop his pants in the bushes beside the course!).  And after four attempts, he never did win Comrades.

Yet the man did love to run.  His drive and commitment simply to run are inspiring.  I would love to run like Tarrant: In the hilly countryside around his home, "there were days when he never even felt tired, when he felt he could run forever, never happier than when climbing steeply, . . . his thoughts a whir of self-imposed times and challenges, the landscape a succession of gateposts, junctions, and landmarks which he reached faster, and with less effort, every time he wrenched on his pumps and braved the hilly air."

Jones captures Tarrant's joy and frustration in The Ghost Runner.  He doesn't dwell on conclusions about Tarrant's treatment by athletic officials; the reader can clearly see that Tarrant's cause was just, his treatment was deplorable, and times quickly changed.  Tarrant died in 1975 at the tragically young age of 42.  With a few short years, the farce of amateurism had ended.  What a shame that Tarrant did not live to see it.  On many levels, Jones inspires awe and admiration for a great runner and a great man.

Thanks to Edelweiss and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!

Now I've gone and done it.

I finally got around to registering for a race!  In the 4 1/2 years or so that I've been running, I've said all along that having a race on the calendar is often the only thing that gets me out the door to run, at least with any consistency.  So now I have a target race: The Isle du Bois 50K on December 8.  This is the race I ran last December 6 days after having run White Rock.  It's only 6 weeks out, which doesn't give me a lot of time, but I figure I can get some good miles in, with a couple of long runs, and maybe run a decent race.

Last year I ran that race on tired legs and finished in 7:17.  Earlier this year I ran another 50K without much training and finished in 7:41.  A few weeks before White Rock last year, I ran Rockledge Rumble in 6:50.  Granted, IDB is actually 54K, so it's hard to compare with other races.  Maybe on fresher legs, I can beat last year's 7:17.  Break 7 hours?  Maybe.

So now it's out there for all the world to know.  Or at least the three of you who will read this post.  I'm officially in training mode, now!  Isle du Bois, here I come!

The Longest Race, by Ed Ayres

One of the great joys of running, especially an all-day event like an ultramarathon, is falling into step with someone and spending the time running together to learn about each other, hear about their racing experiences, and share a bit of life together.  I have found that you can learn more about someone and forge deeper friendships by running on a trial for a couple of hours than you can by sitting next to someone at work every day for a year.

Ayres, running strong.

Ed Ayers has run a few races (quite a few, actually, more than half a century's worth), and reading his new book, The Longest Race: A Lifelong Runner, an Iconic Ultramarathon, and the Case for Human Endurance, must be a bit like the experience of sharing the trail with him for a few hours.  The framework of the book is a race report of his 2001 JFK 50 Mile endurance run, at which he set the course record for his age group.  He offers details of the course, the race itself, and his experiences that day, but The Longest Race is much more than a race report.

Woven among the mile markers and aid stations of the race are Ayres's reflections on running, the environment, and the human condition.  Ayers has been running longer than most of us have been alive.  He's run some of the great races, road marathons, trail runs, and ultras, and run with some of the great runners.  He was a co-founder of Running Times magazine, shaping opinions and publishing pioneering articles at the dawning of the modern running movement.  Here you'll find some of his distilled wisdom about running, born not of trendiness or the latest thing, but from his accumulated knowledge and experience.  He's also worked in the environmentalist movement, and offers his insights on the future of life on earth.  "Maybe the whole premise of modern society--build a great industrial civilization so that people can live better lives--was backward.  Maybe the only way it could work was by building great fitness as individual people, so we can have a more livable civilization."

To Ayres, running is an allegory for life, and life is an allegory for running.  I like his broader application of the running adage, "Listen to your body."  Ayres writes, "If you pay close attention to what your internal signals are telling you, they heighten your chances of actually doing what you dream of doing."  We learn more about ourselves when we run, and by paying attention to what we learn, especially what we learn training for and running in an ultramarathon, we can learn more about civilization and its sustainability.  Pick up this thoughtful, reflective book and you will be inspired to run and rewarded with insights on life.

You can also keep up with Ayres at his blog, http://enduranceandsustainability.blogspot.com/, from which the above picture was shamelessly swiped.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy.

Terry Hitchcock's Run

In this space I have written about the feats of well-known runners like Dean Karnazes, Michael Horton, and Marshall Ulrich.  These men are world-class ultramarathoners who have run big miles, setting them apart as ultra-elites.  Joining this small group is Terry Hitchcock, whose mega-marathon run is documented in My Run.  Unlike those other runners, Hitchcock could scarcely have been considered a runner before he decided he would run a marathon a day for 75 days.  But that's exactly what he did, running from Minnesota to Atlanta, arriving in time for the start of the 1996 Olympics.

Hitchcock's wife died of cancer in 1984, leaving him to raise 3 kids on his own.  Shortly after she died, he lost his job.  A decade later, at age 56, he decided to draw some attention to the experiences and challenges of single parents, so he came up with his plan to run to Atlanta.  Although he had not run marathons before, he found a trainer to help him prepare.  He was slow (at one point he said he ran about 8 hours a day), but his endurance held up and he seemed to stay strong.

Besides the painful process of running that far, the other painful part of the film was the dissolution of his team.  He started out with a support team in an RV, but they fled, so he was left with only one of his sons to support him for much of the run.  They did get some free hotel stays, though.  The focus of My Run is more on the runner than the run himself, following his personal journey.  Runners who see the film will probably be asking, How did he do that?  Karnazes, Horton, and Ulrich are seasoned runners with impressive running resumes.  Hitchcock is just a guy.  Which is really the message of the film: regular guys can do the seemingly impossible, whether it's running 75 marathons or raising 3 kids on his own.

Here's his web site: http://www.terryhitchcock.com/index.html

An author who's NOT a runner

I was reading Jason Jaggard's new book Spark and about half-way through I lost a little bit of respect for him.  I'm sure he's a great guy, but he shows a bit of his ignorance with some comments about running.

In a chapter called "Embracing Inspired Living," Jaggard writes:

I used to hate running more than just about anything else. My dad taught me a lot of valuable life lessons, and the one that stuck with me more than most was this: you never see a happy runner.

Think about it.  On Sunday mornings you see joggers out there chugging along the side of the road, and they don't look happy.  They look like they're in pain.  At best it looks like they're trying to do complex math problems in their heads. 

Or think about the Olympics.  The guy who wins the mile knows he'll be getting a gold medal, but he looks like somebody just came along and ripped off one of his toenails.  I don't know whether to cheer or call an ambulance.

So I don't mind telling you that I hate running.  I could easily make a list--a long list--of things I'd rather do than run.

He then goes on to talk about Dean Karnazes.  "Dean is an ultramarathon runner. (An ultramarathon is anything over seventy miles.)"

So first of all, and I know I'm being nitpicky, but where did he get the idea that an ultramarathon is 70+ miles?  "Ultra" = beyond.  "Marathon" = 26 miles, 385 yards.  Thus, an ultramarthon is a race covering a distance over 26.2 miles, typically 50K, 50 mile, 100K, 100 mile (with lots of variations).

Plus, to continue nitpicking, the mile is not an Olympic event!  I'm no Olympic historian or expert, so I can't say there has never been a one mile race at the Olympics, but I'm pretty sure the mile has never been an Olympic event.  The closest Olympic event we'll see in London will be the 1500 meter race.

I do know exactly what he's talking about.  Runners sometimes look like they're in pain.  They're sometimes doing complex math problems (calculating their splits to see if they can beat the cut off or their PR).  And he did get this right--sometimes they're losing toenails!  But none of that is exclusive of happiness.  In fact, it's all part of the happiness!  If Jaggard were a runner, he would know that.

He does come around a bit, when talking about how inspired he was by Karnazes: "After I heard about Dean, I started looking for the nearest pair of running shoes."  He doesn't really say whether he found them or went for a run, but at least the seed was planted. . . .

Run happy out there!

Hells Hills Race Report

Total mileage run this year through Friday: 93.05 miles
Longest run in 2012 through Friday: 10 miles
Not exactly a formula for success for a 50K.  I knew I would need to take it slow today, so I did.  Maybe a little slower than I thought I would, but I still felt good at the end.

Mark is the family 50K champion.  Perhaps my protruding gut and his fit physique have something to do with that. . . .

The day started with a 4:30 wake-up at the Skeeter's farm house (Thanks, Stuart, for the hospitality!).  We drove from Round Top to Rocky Hill Ranch in Smithville in plenty of time for a 6 a.m. start.  We got our race packets, greeted some familiar faces, and got ready to roll.  The moon was full, and lots of runners had headlamps, so Mark and I started out without lights.  Joe counted down and gave us the signal to head down the trail for a long day.

My plan was to stay with Mark as long as I could, hoping that would be the first loop of the two-loop 50K course.  After a couple of miles, it became clear that I wouldn't be able to, so I let him slip away into the distance.  Shortly after, I caught up with Fred.  He's 62, and we finished close to one another at Rockledge Rumble, so I thought I'd run with him.  He took off and I didn't see him again on the trail.  He's a strong runner!  So I plugged away on my own through the first loop.  I knew Mark was way ahead of me, and I knew Joe is very generous about letting 50K runners drop and claim a 25K finish.  But I decided I might as well head out for another loop.

As I pulled out of the start/finish area, I jokingly asked another runner if she was ready to pace me for the second loop.  She laughed, but little did she know I would tag along for half the loop.  Malea is from the Dallas area, and we know many of the same people in NTTR.  Once again, I had to give up trying to keep pace with my elders.  She's a good 10 years older than me, but clearly in great shape.  She hung back for a bit, I think, but I told her to feel free to go on without me, so she did after setting a great pace for 6-7 miles.

Malea heading into the distance. . . .

Shortly after she left, I fell in with Raul, a San Antonio police detective.  We took it easy together, and made each other feel better about walking much of the last 1/4 of the race.  Finally I cruised through the finish chute, where I saw Fred hanging out--he'd clearly been there a while!--and across the finish line where Mark met me, after waiting on me for an hour and seventeen minutes!  Poor guy.  I did warn him, though. . . .

Piney woods along the course.

This was my first time to run at Hells Hills.  It's a Tejas Trails race, so, no surprise, it was hosted flawlessly by Joe and his team of volunteers.  Trail runners in Texas are lucky to have him putting on great races.  The course was terrific, highly runnable, with some ups and downs but not a lot of climbing.  At times it reminded me of Lake Grapevine North Shore, with its short descents and climbs, and at times of Huntsville State Park, where Rocky Raccoon is held, with some long, straight portions and tall pines.  The day did get pretty warm; it was at least in the low 80s by the time I finished.  I was starting to feel overheated and underhydrated.  I considered going shirtless, but after being stuck by a shirtless, flabby runner for an unpleasant portion of a race a couple years ago, I decided that unless and until I was flabless, I would wear a shirt at all times when running.  All told, even though this was my slowest 50K to date, I still felt decent at  the end and had a good time on the course.  Maybe next time I'll actually try to train for it. . . .

The wildflowers were more beautiful than this picture can show.

My 50Ks and Hells Hills

Saturday is Hells Hills and I don't really know what to expect of the race or of myself.  I have run a handful of 50Ks, with finish times ranging from 5:19 (El Scorcho, flat and easy) to 7:35 (Toughest in Texas, hilly, rugged, and, well, toughest).  Based on what I've heard about the Hells Hills course, I'm thinking it will be comparable to the courses at Rockledge Rumble (6:50) or Isle du Bois (7:17).

At Rockledge, I was in pretty good shape, in full training mode for White Rock.  IDB was six days after White Rock, so I was a bit fatigued.  Since IDB, which was mid-December, my training has been sporadic and erratic, and I've put on a few pounds, so I'm certainly not looking for a PR.  I'm thinking I'll take at least 7 hours, but hopefully no longer than 8.

I'm not too concerned about my time or my finish place.  Mostly I'm looking forward to running this trail, which sounds like it's right up my alley.  (From the race web site: "A fair bit of rocks, a collection of rolling creek bed drop-ins and rollouts, a twisty turny riot of single-track trails, with the Wall & the Grind at the end of each loop. Not much for elevation. Mostly single-track through a forest of pines.")  I'm also looking forward to running with my brother, although he might have to leave his fatter, older, slower brother behind. . . .

Grasslands from the other side of the aid station table

Over the last four years, I have run in a couple dozen races, trail and road.  I'm a little embarrassed to admit that today was the first time I have volunteered to work at an aid station in a race.  If you've ever run an organized race, you know how important the aid stations can be.  When you're trudging down the trail, especially late in the race, and you come around a bend or emerge from the woods to see the aid station, it's a welcome relief.  Today's runners expressed their appreciation repeatedly for our aid station, an oasis in their journey through the LBJ National Grassland.

Elliot was quick to lend a hand wherever needed.

I somehow convinced Elliot, my 12-year-old son, to get up and leave the house at 5 so we could drive an hour to the middle of nowhere to serve water and pb&js to hungry trail runners.  He was a great sport, up and showered before I was even out of bed.  He stayed engaged with the runners, actively helping out throughout the day, jumping up to fill water bottles, slice oranges, and offer words of encouragement.  I'm sure he could have thought of other things he'd like to have done on a Saturday, but he said he had a good time.

The weather was gorgeous today, but it did get rather warm toward midday.  Quite a contrast to the sleet and freezing rain during my 2010 DNF (see my post here).  Conditions were much better today, sunny and breezy, getting up into the 80s by the afternoon.  According to the runners, the trails were very runnable, but the mud caking their shoes and legs told the story of some muddy portions.  

We enjoyed hanging out with fellow trail runner, Steve.

From my view at the Red Ant aid station, Paul Smith and the North Texas Trail Runners volunteers did a great job, as usual, putting on this race.  I enjoyed being on the other side of the table for this one, but look forward to getting back on the trail soon!

I have a lot of respect for those endurance athletes who take on the ultramarathons that make Leadville and Badwater look like a warm-up.  You know the ones: the Marathon des Sables across the Sahara, the Iditarod Trail Invitational in Alaska, the Race Across America.  These are amazing feats which few runners could imagine completing.

However, running an organized race, on a predetermined course, with crew and support, does not begin to compare with the real-life endurance feat featured in The Way Back.  This movie, based on true events, depicts the daring escape of a scrappy bunch of political prisoners from a Siberian prison camp.  Braving the elements and avoiding any signs of civilization, they trekked over 4000 miles from Siberia to Tibet, crossing the Gobi desert and the Himalayas.

Thousands of miles to go, and not an aid station in sight.

The movie is based on a 1956 book, the veracity of which has been questioned.  However true or elaborated the events in the movie are, there are certainly many similar stories of escapees following a similar route, or else traveling similar distances from Siberia eastward to parts of Europe.  So next time you come to an aid station during your ultramarathon, take a moment to thank the volunteers and to think about what it takes to keep going when your life depends on it.

More Q

Did I mention that I have really been enjoying Evan Mandery's Q?  I finished it tonight; loved it.  I recommend it whole-heartedly.

In my last post, I didn't really say what Q is about.  In Q, the narrator's future self travels back in time repeatedly to correct his path.  Eventually the visits become more and more frequent and contradictory.  In one visit, his 60-year-old self encourages to become more socially involved.  Among other things, he then joins the Hash House Harriers, whose goal is to "acquire a good thirst and satisfy it in beer."  That, and the beer and jalape no poppers at Diablos Cantina, do not help him get healthy.

Then his 68-year-old self visits him and shows of his scars from open-heart surgery.  He decides to get serious about fitness:

I quit the Harriers and join the Central Park Running Club.  They meet on Tuesdays for interval training, Wednesdays to run hills, and Thursdays for speed workouts.  On weekends, the members take long runs, sometimes fifteen or twenty miles, either around the park loop, or up Riverside Drive, or east onto Randall's Island. . . . The running is addictive, and I find myself going out to train every morning. . . . In the fall I run the New York Marathon, in the spring, the Boston.  I begin to plot training regimens to get my marathon time down under three hours.  I consider the Hawaii ultra-marathon, one hundred miles on the Big Island.

However, his 72-year-old self shortly drops in and bursts his bubble.  "You need to stop running so much. . . . You're ruining your knees."  So, with his older self's encouragement, he takes up . . . swimming.

 Evan Mandery, Q: A Novel (Harper: New York, 2011), 303-308.

Hell's Hills, here I come!

I have officially registered for Hell's Hills 50K!  No refunds, no excuses, no turning back now!  I have 5 weeks to recover some of that running passion and log some miles.  These last couple of months, I have felt like my body has been taken over by someone else.  Who was that guy who ran 100 days straight and ran White Rock in 3:33?  It sure doesn't feel like it was me.

Come April 7, I plan to be there in Smithville.  I may be at the back of the pack, the 50 mile runners may be passing me up, but I'll be there.  And the bonus: I'll be running with my brother.  As my son Zippy has pointed out, I'm fatter, older, and slower than Mark, so I don't know if I'll be able to keep up, but at least we can start together, and maybe he'll drive his broken-down big brother home afterwards.

Hells Hills Trail Run 

Motivation to walk a little faster. . . .

It's pretty much indisputable that running and exercise in general has positive physical and mental benefits throughout life.  But this headline caught my eye today:

Slow walking 'predicts dementia'

If you have ever, like me, resorted to slow walking at the end (or, uh, if I'm honest, in the middle. . . .) of an ultramarathon, and, especially, in the hours and days following an ultra, maybe you can relate.  I'm not sure I ever feel more muddle-headed than when I've been on my feet on a trail for 6-8 hours or more.  Not that that is necessarily a sign of early dementia, but you can't be too careful, right?

On the other hand, how about this headline:

Brisk walks fight prostate cancer

That's pretty encouraging.  One of the researchers says, "Walking at an easy pace did not seem to have any benefit" in delaying the progression of prostrate cancer.  I would assume that running can achieve the same benefits as brisk walking.

Bottom line, lean forward, walk or run faster, and keep dementia and prostate cancer at bay.


The articles:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-17028712
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-13518537

One Month

ONE MONTH.
That's how long I have gone without running.  I ran with my brother at Dana Peak Park the weekend before Christmas, and since then, not a step until this morning.  I am definitely going to have to readjust to getting up an hour or two earlier. . . .

ONE MONTH.
After this little respite, I now have one month to prepare for Cross Timbers on February 18.  Like last year, I will admit that I'm not up to a 50 miler right now, so I'll be running the marathon again.  A month is certainly not much time to prepare for a trail marathon; I'm counting on having retained a bit of fitness from the end of last year.  Besides, Cross Timbers is a great place for a guy like me to take it slow and easy.

Cross Timbers trail.  Take it slow.

Isle du Bois 50K race report

Pacing.  It's all about pacing.  After my highly successful run at White Rock on Sunday, where I ran a negative split, I thought maybe I would have learned my lesson about pacing.  For this 50K, I would hold back for the first couple laps and blaze to the finish on the last lap.  Instead, I ran my usual trail ultra, feeling good at first, gradually getting to the point of wanting to quit the stupid race, then feeling great for having finished.

This was the debut race for Endurance Buzz Adventures, put on by Dave Hanenburg of EnduranceBuzz.com.  I had never run at Isle du Bois and for some odd reason I was picturing a relatively easy course.  It turned out to be similar to the Cross Timbers course at Lake Texoma, although not quite as tough as that.  I would place it at tougher than Lake Grapevine's north shore, where I ran the Rockledge Rumble a few weeks ago.  Slightly more ups and downs, many more technical sections, and way more lose, pointy rocks.  Thankfully I never fell, but one runner I talked to had already fallen 6 times--on lap 1!  And check out this runner's busted lip! (Go to Julie's blog here and scroll to the bottom.)

I started out hanging around the back of the pack.  I thought I might replicate my White Rock strategy--start out in back, so I'm passing and not being passed.  That's probably a dumb strategy.  I passed a few people early, then fell in behind a small group of runners, including a lady named Chris and a guy with a mohawk.  I ran with them for a few miles, but at the aid station, halfway through the loop, I left before them and felt like I picked up the pace a little.  I finished the first loop in 2:00:46, feeling like I could keep that up and beat my Rockledge time (6:50).

Loop 2 started out well.  I was thinking negative splits, passing and not being passed.  I managed to keep a pretty good pace the first half of the loop, but after the aid station I slowed down, feeling like 2 loops would be plenty today.  After White Rock, my soreness and stiffness was gone by midweek, but the latent muscle fatigue began to rear its ugly head right about now.  Chris, who had been in sight most of the second lap, finally passed me shortly before we got back to the start/finish area.  I finished the second lap at 4:13:36.  Not a negative split, but still not so bad; loop 2 was .4 mile longer, after all.

I filled up my hydration pack--no cups at this eco-friendly race!--and got a snack to head out for the third loop.  I knew at this point that a negative split was out of the question, shortly gave up on beating my Rockledge time, and ended up just wishing to finish, to get off this trail and back home.  The field was so spread out by this time that I saw very few other runners.  One way-too-perky-after-having-run-23-miles lady passed me up, looking fresh like she was on her first lap.  A runner named Bill caught up to me with a few miles left and we crossed the line together at 7:17:31.

This is one race where I'm glad I didn't run in my VFFs.  Not knowing the trail at all, I chose to wear my NB MT101s.  There were some really nice sections of dirt, but with the sharp rocks, and with lots and lots of dead leaves masking the lurking obstacles, my feet would have been thoroughly bruised and bloodied by the end of the day if I had worn the Vibrams.

Dave deserves praise for putting on a first-class trail race.  Of course, the weather cooperated beautifully, which helps, but he busted his tail to make the rest of it fall into place.  Everything ran nicely, the support was perfect, and, as best I could tell, everyone had a good time.  I hope IDB becomes a staple of the North Texas race calendar.

Boring post, right?  No pictures.  Check out these other blogs for some great pics of the day.  You might even see a picture of me if you look hard enough!

Julie, who busted her lip.

The Trail Zombie.

And Dave, the RD, will surely post some good pics at EnduranceBuzz.com.

Ultracentric at Lake Grapevine

I have been running in organized races for over 3 years now, so my volunteering at a race was LONG overdue.  I had absolutely no desire to run in the Ultracentric run, so I figured I'd spend a few hours there volunteering.  Lorrie, who hosts the NTTR trail runs, rounded up the volunteers and planned all the food.  I showed up for a few hours Saturday morning to help with food and registration.

The Ultracentric Experience is a timed run, with 48-, 24-, 12-, and 6-hour races.  Competitors run on a 2-mile loop as long as they can, as fast as they can.  The winner is the runner or walker who, at the end of the specified time period, has covered the most ground.  I didn't want to run because: 1. I ran in a timed race last year (Run from the Ducks, 8 hours) and decided that sort of race, running the same short course over and over all day, is not for me; 2. Ultracentric was run on pavement, with no shade; and 3. I ran the Rockledge Rumble the previous weekend and will run White Rock in 2 weeks.

When I got there, around 5 a.m., several of the 48-hour runners were plugging away, and some were sleeping, including one at the back of the food tent.  Shortly before 6, eventual winner Volodymyr Balatskyy hit 100 miles, less than 21 hours from Friday's 9 a.m. start.  He ended up with 208 miles, 68 more than the next competitor.  In the 24 hour race, Andy Thompson hit 90 miles, 6 miles better than the next runner.  The great part about is that at 61, he was older than all the others in the 24-hour race!

Special recognition goes to 11-year-old Isabella, who won the 6-hour race.  Apparently she and her dad travel all over the place running in races.  A fun bonding time for them.

I'm glad I was able to help out Saturday, and glad I wasn't running.  It was already getting warm and muggy when I left the event, shortly after the 9 a.m. start.  It must have been a long, hot day for the runners.  But I congratulate all those dedicated souls, thank Lorrie for her hard work, and commend Robert for putting on a unique event.

Rockledge Rumble Race Report

Today the North Texas Trail Runners put on one of their flagship races of the year, the 16th annual Rockledge Rumble.  This race and NTTR are well intertwined in their respective histories.  As is the tradition, the Rumble is run around Veterans Day, with a theme of honoring America's veterans.

So starting with the most important part of the day, Tom Crull, race director, led us in the National Anthem and the Pledge of Allegiance, then introduced veterans who had come out for the race.  Today we were honored to be joined by veterans who served during WW2, one guy who returned from Afghanistan a couple of weeks ago, and many in between.  I can't help but be moved thinking about the sacrifices they and their families made serving our country, and thinking about the many men and women who don't come home.  And of course I remember my grandfather's proud service during WW2 and my father's service in the Navy.  Running a trail race seems so insignificant in light of their service, but the freedom to enjoy such hobbies and other pleasures of life is one reason they fight.  Thanks to all our veterans!

Granddaddy and Dad with the Mastin boys at Granddaddy's 95th birthday party.
I probably should have a picture of them in uniform, but I don't think I do.

I started out hoping to finish in under 6 hours.  I thought it was doable.  Two weeks ago I ran a little over 20 miles in 4 hours on the same course, so I figured if I could improve on that pace just a bit, I could do it.  I was on pace for a while, finishing 20 miles in about 3 minutes under 4 hours, and keeping that pace for another couple of miles to the 22 mile turnaround.  But after that aid station stop, starting out on the final loop, I knew I didn't have a 6 hour finish in me.  The first 22 miles, I averaged well under 12 minutes per mile.  The last 10 miles, I think I averaged over 15 minutes per mile.  Not so great.  So my finish was nearly 7 hours: 6:50:56 (39/76 overall, 13/15 40-49M).

Of course, trail running is not all about the times.  (At least for me; I know I'll never be a front runner, unlike Matt, who won the whole enchilada for the second consecutive year!  Way to go Matt!)  Trail running, for me, is about running in a beautiful setting and pushing my body harder than I normally do.

Lake Grapevine's north shore has awesome single track.  The shade was welcome today.

It's also about the people.  I got to run with Dave, who I run into frequently at these races and whose always interesting blog I read.  I ran into Andy from Abilene, whom I met at Run from the Ducks last year.  Mike was there, not running after having run at Cactus Rose 2 weeks ago, but his greeting at the finish was most welcome.  T. O. finished a few minutes behind me (he passed me late, then took a wrong turn), but while I will hardly be able to walk tomorrow, he'll probably be running the Fort Worth Marathon.  I finally met Dave from endurancebuzz.com face to face.  There were lots of familiar faces and friends.  The trail running community is a lot of fun to be around and at every race or club run I meet new folks and catch up with others.  All in all, a well-spent day!

Char and Fred, President and First Gentleman of NTTR.

For mountain runners

I aspire to be a mountain runner, but I can't call myself one--yet.  In a recent reading of Friedrich Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra, I ran across this quote, apropos of mountain running:

In the mountains the shortest way is from peak to peak, but for that route thou must have long legs. 

If only. . . . But I guess a mountain runner would say the fun isn't only at the peaks, but on all the ridges and valleys in between.

Happy running!

Karl Meltzer on The Human Express

Sunday night I happened to see The Human Express, a documentary about Karl Meltzer's run from Sacramento, California, to St. Joseph, Missouri.  To commemorate the 150th anniversary of the Pony Express, Meltzer decided he would run the 2064-mile Pony Express route, something no one had ever done before.  The Human Express records the travails and triumphs of Meltzer and his crew as they follow this historic route.

No stranger to covering long distances, Meltzer has run the Appalachian Trail, and has won more 100 mile races than anyone.  But running 50 miles a day for 40 days has got to take its toll, right?  It would for most of us, but Meltzer seemed to gain strength through the run.  He took daily readings of his resting heart rate and other vitals, and, once he got stabilized after a couple weeks, his health seemed to improve.  Impressive.

I liked his comments on endurance and speed.  He said he doesn't do speed work, but trains for long races by running long distances.  It makes sense, but I have to wonder how well that translates to mere mortals like myself.  Meltzer lives and trains in the Rocky Mountains, so his daily runs must be hilly, rocky, at altitude.  If you're running on mountains every day, you probably don't need to worry about getting in some intervals on the track.  Still, his simple, high-volume, low-stress approach to training is appealing.

The Human Express served as a great commercial for the Hoka One Ones. These are the anti-minimalist running shoes, with so much sole they remind me of those moon shoes that kids wear.  I am a running minimalist, but the farthest I've ever run in my VFFs is 50 miles on trail.  Meltzer ran that much or more every day for 40 days on dirt and pavement.  The Hoka's almost cartoonishly wide soles and thick cushioning certainly made that pounding more tolerable.  His feet held up remarkably well through all that running.

Meltzer's run is an impressive accomplishment, one more to add to his unmatched running resume.  Here's a guy who loves to run, and has figured out how to get a corporate sponsor to pay him to do it.  More power to him!  I look forward to hearing about Meltzer's next insane distance feat.

That's a long, long way to run.

The Lure of Long Distances, by Robin Harvie

If you've read my blog at all, you know I'm a sucker for running books.  I prefer the narrative/memoir books to "how-to" or training books.  The Lure of Long Distances is about as memoir-ish as they come.  I knew I could relate to Harvie on some level by the bio on the book jacket: After trying unsuccessfully to improve his marathon time, "he decided instead to see how far he could run before keeling over" and started running ultramarathons.  That's my story, too.  I started running seriously later in life, completing my first marathon at age 39.  Lots of running books talk about how our bodies start getting slower after 40, so I knew I'd never get too much faster.  I started reading about ultramarathons and decided that I may not be fast, but maybe I can last a long time on my feet.

Harvie was a younger man when he started running ultras, and has run much farther than I ever have.  The Lure of Long Distances covers his running history, primarily the year he spent preparing for the Spartathlon, the annual 152 mile race from Athens to Sparta.  He weaves in his training experiences, personal stories, reports from other races and runs along the way, anecdotes from history and modern running, and plenty of literary and poetic reflections.  He writes skillfully, putting together some beautiful and effective passages.

Harvie spent many hours running along the length of the Thames.

However, the overall product didn't turn out to be a very satisfying read.  All the well-written passages and stories flowed from one to another, kind of like the aid stations in an ultramarathon.  By the time you get to the end, you know there were some nice views and good conversations along the way, but they only fit together in the sense that they were part of one long race.

This is not to say I didn't like the book.  It was an enjoyable read.  But sometimes when I finish reading a book about running, I want to put my shoes on and head out the door right away.  This one made me sit back on the recliner and think about getting ready for bed.

The subtitle of the book, "Why We Run," is, in a way, a bit of false advertising.  Harvie sets out to discover why he runs, but it's up to us to find our own way.  He concludes, "Running is not about fitness, competition, or even other people.  It is simply about becoming a more sentient person, living . . .  a more authentic life." I'll buy that.  But I still ask myself sometimes, "Why am I doing this again?"