Pisgah 50K

There has been a lot of work going down on the running side of things this past summer. It turns out that being single is the best way to log a lot of miles. Minimal obligations and lots of free time.... just what I wanted!

I've been able to log a significant amount of miles, getting close to the mid 40's most every week, as opposed to the meager 30ish I was getting last year. I even went as far as taking a "runcation". I bailed on work for the week and was able to log close to 60 miles while visiting my sister in PA, my buddy Mike in Queens, and lots of tasty brew pubs and beer bars along the way. Running has never been better. I even ran into my first bear a few weeks ago!

Today was my 7th show down with the 50k distance. Weather conditions had called for thunderstorms and rain for the majority of the day, so it was a relief to toe the line under dry skies. After a few words from the RD, we were off down the road for a few miles before we hit the trail head. Runners for both the 50k and 23k were mixed in the group and it was difficult to tell who was who, or rather, should I be running as fast as this guy next to me?

I ran with Keith into the woods, passing signs made for us by his brother's family. It's always nice to see that, especially at a races of this distance where it isn't exactly a spectator sport. We made our way down the trail and took the left hand turn at the 50k sign as the 23kers kept straight on the trail. Apparently we were the only ones taking this left, at least that we could see out of the crowd that was in front of us hammering onward.

Once off on our own, we shot the shit for a minute before Keith pulled ahead and I turned my ipod on. The first few miles out there went by with ease. Weather it was me feeling good, or the tunes in my headphones, I was enjoying this jaunt in the woods. A mile or two further on I see Keith a distance ahead of me, something that rarely, if ever, happens in race situations. I oddly enough seem to pick up steam and over the next mile pull right up behind him. I'm feeling good. I consider the fact that it might all be clicking for me today, and despite the humidity, I might be able to make something of this.

After last year's performance ending in a 16th place 5:12 finish, I felt I had it in me to go sub 5 this year, as long as I could continue to feel good and make smart choices. I had put enough fluids and nutrition in my pack to avoid having to stop at any of the early aid stations, which would be a huge time saver and something I didn't do last year.

Throughout the first part of the race, Keith continued to stay at least 400 yard in front of me for the most part. I took advantage of running most of the hills and power hiking where necessary, which kept me in the game. After a while out there, I found it strange that I hadn't seen another runner other than Keith.

It wasn't until the climb up Pisgah Mountain, that I finally came upon a runner other than Keith. I passed him as he seemed to be struggling, and motored on to catch up with Keith, who I hadn't said a word to since I had put my headphones on back around mile 3. We shot the shit for a moment and talk about the discrepancies on our watches before he powered down the the back side of the mountain, followed closely by the other guy I had passed.

As I ran along, coming close to the Kilburn aid station, which I would pass through twice, I came upon that other runner who I had passed on top of Pisgah Mountain. Over my headphones I couldn't make out what he was saying to me, but after turning the ipod off, he was desperately looking for salt tabs. I offered up some s-caps and proceeded on my way to the aid station. This was my first pass through the Kilburn aid station before running the loop around Kilburn Pond. I pounded two cups of soda knowing the fluids in my pack would be good for another 5.5 miles. I also powered through the aid station fast enough to take another runner who was wasting more time there than me.

The Kilburn loop is sort of a two fold event. The first part, which is down hill for the most part, seems to be easy and fast. I passed another runner in this section. However, once you get to the backside of the pond, the trail becomes increasingly aggravating. While not really steep, your body seems cashed enough to make walking the uphills seem like the most desirable thing in the world. Somewhere in this stretch, I was passed back by the guy from the aid station. No worries I told myself. I hadn't been passed by anyone from further back in the pack so this wasn't that big of an issue.

I finally get off the Kilburn loop and back into the Kilburn aid station for the second and final time. I refill my pack for the first time all race, pound more Coke and head off as fast as I can toward the finish. The final stretch of miles were some that took their toll on me last year. I walked more of it than I cared to, and felt I lost a lot of time on this section.

This year I entered the final section feeling good and ready to battle. While the first initial climb out Rt. 63 parking lot was walked, I quickly returned to running and pushed on well past the places I had walked the previous year. It may have been in this section that I figured out my Halloween costume.... Oh god, watch out!

I finally came to the section that I found the previous year to have been logged. I knew from here it was only a matter of a mile to get to the road that would bring me in to the finish. I started to pick up the pace and look for that coveted turn onto the dirt road.

Coming down one of the final hills, I see the dirt road and the guy who had passed me on the back side of the Kilburn loop. At a volume loud enough for him to most likely have heard, I yelled, "That fuckers going down!", and proceeded to pick up the pace until I had zeroed in on him and passed him just before passing Keith's brother's house on the last mile in to the finish. At his brother's house, I drop my race vest and take off. Cresting the final hill I can see straight down the road to the stop sign. From there, it would only be a matter of yards to the finish. I keep my focus on the stop sign and keep my pace. As I draw closer to the end of the road, I pull in and pass my final struggling runner. I turn the corner and haul ass into the finish. 50k in 4 hours and 43 minutes in 9th place. This was exactly a half hour off of last year's time and almost 2 minutes faster than my previous 50k PR, which was run on a pancake flat course, as opposed to this course with 3,850 feet of elevation gain.

Over all, I couldn't have been more satisfied with my result. The biggest problem I have now, is where to take this success for one more bout in the ring this year.

I fully blame the Tweeprise.

There is only one true way for me to judge a Phish show after the immediate glory of having either been to the show or having listened to it on the now popular couch tour, and that is to give it my full attention while putting back some miles. Just how does 7/27/14 Set 2 hold up?

Today provided just that opportunity. I'm spending the weekend at my parent's house and my sister and her family are visiting as well. It's old times in the Casey household! As it is a Saturday, I would need to start my day out with a long run. The main problem here is that every route I used to run here in Londonderry way back in the day is a road route and provides little distance and even less allure. The only viable option I was able to arrive at was to be dropped off in Salem and run the old rail bed back into Londonderry.

I left the house just after 8 this morning and was driven down Rt 93 by my father to a spot I had mapped out the previous night. From that spot it was a solid half marathon back to the house. It would be rather flat, and if anything, a positive elevation run.

I started my watch at the trail head behind the bicycle shop and was off. I also started off my ipod in the middle of the Slave from 7/27, a show currently regarded as one of the best shows they've played in at least 10 to 15 years. The final soaring notes of the song gave way to the opening bass notes of DWD as I paced along an over grown rail trail in the cloudy humidity of the morning.

Before long I can upon a newly built bridge spanning a main road and the trail that picked up on the other side was newly refurbished with hard pack sand and stone. It wasn't too bad, but i liked the more natural feel of the first section of trail.

Bouncing along to the DWD jam, I came to the first road crossing, which was where the trail now became paved. I'm not sure why towns feel the need to pave a "trail", but I was thankful that the right hand shoulder of the trail had a dirt single track to run. It seemed the paved trail was excellent at attracting soccer moms and senior citizens riding hybrid bikes. The DWD jam transitioned smoothly into NICU. At this point, my pace had been a rather steady sub 8 trot and the sincerity and urgency with which Phish was playing with wasn't allowing my pace to slow any time soon. I ran past some dog walkers and Saturday morning joggers. I passed marsh lands with beautiful mirror still reflections of the surrounding trees.

And then I can upon the opening notes of HYHU that led to some of the most clever uses of self deprecating humor by the band. Fishman takes the mic and notes that he hasn't practiced any songs and would just make this a sing along and a drummer's choice. He subsequently broke into the rarely played and often agreed upon, worst Phish song ever - Jennifer Dances. The fact that this song was being played in jest, was just another in a long, long line of reasons why this is my favorite band. They finish up the tune and break into another rarely played tune off of Joy, Ive Been Around. It allowed for some fun band interactions and was a great way to finish out the set. I was so caught up in listening, I was barely paying attention to the fact that I was running, but I was still clicking off sub 8 miles.

Encore started off with a cover of Stevie Wonder's Boogie On Reggae Woman, which kept the pace, and my attention, in the zone. Closing out the encore was Tweezer Reprise. This song, after a night of Tweezer mayhem, was the icing on the cake for this show. You could feel the fever and urgency with which they were playing this song, and as they had been playing all night long. They were playing like they really meant it. I was rocking some sweet air guitar moves, and before I knew it, I was running like I was a man possessed! I meant to look down at my watch and see how fast that mile was, but alas, I was so caught up in the music that I missed the mile read out by a tenth of a mile. (after later review, it was a 6:49 mile) The music was just too good and I couldn't slow myself down. The set was over and I needed more...STAT!!! Time to start this set over again!

About this time, I ran past a group of runner's who were standing around in a parking lot at one of the trail heads along the path. I gave a quick wave and kept up what I could only assume was an extremely impressive pace for them to have witnessed, or maybe they were just thinking, "Who's this ass hat with the race vest on, on a paved bike path?" Either way, I failed to stop and check out the old Boston & Maine caboose next to the renovated train station.

Back into the first Tweezer of the set. The jam is cut short after two teases by Fishman to segue into Back on the Train. BotT was woven out of just as quickly as it was woven into, and seamlessly back into Tweezer before heading back into BotT again. This was some really early, to mid 90's style playing right here, and they were absolutely killing it!

Around this time I was crossing through downtown Derry and back to the splendors of dirt trails. The trails that run through the middle of Derry are pretty rough. I had to take several detours to be able to get on course with the trail only to have the next section be riddled with the wavering pits created by dirt bikes and 4 wheelers. I was able to find a relatively level edge and stuck to that for the most part.

The band segued into one of their new, and admittedly really good songs, Waiting All Night. The fresh melodic lines and solid vocals for a band that has never been known for their singing abilities, made me feel great even though this particular section of the trail was teeming with deer flies. I helped population control by killing at least 15 of them. I said I'm sorry.

Crossing Rt 28, I knew I was in the final 4.5 miles of the run. The opening guitar lines of Free helped push the pace and keep me ahead of the deer flies that were trying so hard to keep up. The band quickly wove back into the Tweezer theme again before weaving into Simple. The trail was straight and the view off in the distance of the next trail gate was locked into my view. I was still sticking to the sides of the trail to keep off the constant rolls from the motorized vehicles. The transition back into the end section of Free, with the repeated Free vocal line, in that time and place, thinking about everything in my life, completely resonated and I was washed over with adrenalin crushing the pace even faster. It was all coming together.

Passing past Poor Boy's Diner, I head towards the Rt 93 underpass, thinking about when this was just some rinky-dink little highway with a muddy old rail bed passing below, instead of the 4 lane super highway that it's become.

At this point the trail has again, unfortunately been paved. Dog walkers, cyclist, and soccer moms littered the trail as I haul ass towards Clark Rd, which would be my departure from the rail trail. Powered by my second play through of Slave, I turn onto Clark and see a 6:46 mile click off on the Garmin. With just a little over a mile to go, I kept pushing the pace up Noyes Rd. Wanting nothing more than a final sub 7 mile, I let the Slave pull me up the road and onto my parent's street, where the final assault on the pavement concluded with a 1:37 half marathon. Just a few minutes off my actual road half PR, this was a solid accomplishment coming just 2 weeks after spraining my ankle, which I could still feel, but not in a bad way. I've been getting stronger and this was just what I needed to remind me I am still in the game.

Does this show hold up to legendary status? If it was a direct correlation to how I ran today, I'd have to rank this show pretty damn high!

Catamount 50k

Things have been pretty good in the running department this season and this race was no exception. Coming almost 2 months after the Bear Mountain 50 miler, there had been plenty of time for rest, serious miles, and warding off possible injuries. I had been weary of how much I could build up my mileage. With 3 ultras within the past 3 months (and 5 in 10 months), I've been wondering if I've been going about my training well enough to avoid injury. My right quad had been pretty hammered the past few weeks so with a week of rest and moderate mileage this week, I was ready to toe the line at the Catamount 50k in Stowe, Vermont.

Waking again at the heart warming time of 2:40AM, race day was underway as I headed over to Keith's to pick him up and drive just over 2 hours north to the Trapp Family Lodge. Set in the Green Mountains, the early morning views from the start/finish area were quite spectacular. The course itself was a 25k loop which we would complete twice. With roughly 2,500ft of elevation gain per lap, there was quite a bit of up hill battling.

 Armed with a hand held bottle and an extra 10oz of fluid in a flask in the front of my vest, (Note to self: DO NOT try and "clean" bladders and bite valves the night before a race and break them.) we started the 4.5 mile ascent to the highest point on the course. At this point in the day the air was still relatively cool, but the humidity was high. I was trying to push fluids early on as not to find myself in a hole later.

This first initial climb was via a series of cross country ski trails, which wound their ways around the front of the mountain. It was steep in sections but mostly runnable, or at least I made it runnable as to keep pace with the immediate guys around me, and even gain a bit on them. Cresting the top of the hill was the first aid station, which I stopped only long enough to fill my bottle before taking off on the long down hill section.  Aside from a few wet spots, the next 5.5 miles to the next aid station were quick and easy. Lots of great scenery to be had as well.  

I come into the second aid station in the rising heat of the morning to refill my bottle and grab a thing or two to eat. They also had a chia fresca shot which was outstanding! The next few miles of trail were in and around the woods and fields of Trapp Lodge. I was feeling great and running right where I felt I should have been. And that's when the extremely urgent need to "use the woods" hit. Not an issue, as I'm pretty much a zen master of this activity, but I did lose at least 4 to 5 minutes, which was kind of disheartening when I was running as well as I was.

The next four miles started out crossing a cow pasture, complete with compliments of the cows previously grazing on said pasture, before ducking back into the woods for what seemed like forever. In this section I was able to catch up to one of the runners I had lost during my bathroom break. We both noted that the miles in this section seemed extra long. The trail here was a bit rougher, with uneven footing, making it imperative to pay attention to where your foot was landing.

After a brief pass of another cow pasture, the trail meandered up to a dirt road and straight back to the start finish area where we would begin our second lap. I came into the half way point at 2:22, ready to refill my bottle and replenish my GU supply, which I had been steadily eating one every half hour along with an S-Cap. When refilling my bottle I may have gotten a little too excited and pounded the rest of the gatorade mix from my drop bag. I left for my second lap with a not so settled stomach.

Starting the 4.5 mile climb again, only this time in much warmer, bordering on hot, temperatures was not so much of a treat. There was a lot more walking on the steeper sections here, which if you could muster up the strength, you could use it in your favor and catch up to a few people who were walking themselves. I joined in with a few other guys that way as we trekked up to the top, which seemed a lot further for some reason this time. The race photographer found us looking really sharp in this section too. Why can't they ever get my finishing kick?

We crest the top again at mile 20 and come into the aid station where I filled my bottle and ate some orange slices. While eating there, one of the runners from the trek up the hill notes that he is having a "squarely mediocre day" to one of the volunteers. I wanted no part of his shitty day. I grabbed a slice of watermelon and took off down the trail.

The next few miles provided some much needed relief from the up hill. Cruising down the backside of the mountain while listen to a banging DJ mix put me right back into it. There were even some cooler breezes blowing through the woods at that point. Things were alright!

I came into the next aid station, which had quite the crowd of cheering spectators. I filled my bottle again, had their fine chia fresca shot, and took another watermelon slice for the road. 6 more miles to go.

It became clear that focusing on nutrition was going to be key to success. While I was putting down a GU every half hour, it seemed I was feeling worn before it was time for the next one and the hole I would find myself in would happen quickly. The second I found myself getting low I ate another GU and within minutes was back in the game.

As the day was getting hotter, I was pushing more fluids. The hand held bottle I had was draining faster than at any other point in the day. I finally reached into my vest pocked for the small flask I brought with me for such and occasion, and dumped that into my main bottle. Just a few more miles. Let's do this.

Running back in the cow pasture section, the miles seemed to take forever. Sections of the course that I remembered from my first pass through, which I was sure were just around the next bend, were nowhere to be seen and it wasn't getting any cooler out there.

Finally I find myself turning onto the dirt road that brings me into the finish. I quickly find a tune on my ipod that will get me there in no time, and start hauling ass into the finish.

Its funny how the visual of the finish makes every issue your body has completely disappear. My toes, which had been slamming into the front of my shoes for the past 10 miles (nails will be lost), suddenly were fine in my dash for the finish. I cross in 5:14, good for 20th place. The pint glass finisher's award and complimentary Trapp Lodge Brewing beer fill topped off one solid day of running!

Green Flash 30th St. Pale Ale

Its almost game time, and any injury, or possibility of one, has long since disappeared. And it's probably a good thing too considering I'm now less than 24 hours from the Catamount 50k. So while I try to figure out just how prepared I am for this race, you can enjoy this fine beer review...

Green Flash - Road Warrior Rye Imperial IPA

I've been rather lacking in the beer review department as I've been running a lot more and filming less, but I did shoot a few reviews last week while trying to pretend I'm not injured for my upcoming 50k on the 28th. C'mon leg let's do this!

This is running.

There are a lot of runs that rank in the maintenance miles category. Runs that you do just to get the miles and keep your head above water so to speak. Other runs though, are the kind that you logged all those previous miles to get to. The runs, not races, that you will remember for years to come.

Tonight's run ranked high on the later category. It might have only lasted less than a mile though had it not been for Keith pointing out that there was a porcupine in the trail about 20 feet in front of me. And after a brief stop to watch the little guy run off into the woods, we carried on.

The general idea I had for this run was to run the Surry loop, but branch off onto the single tracks that line the trail we've never deviated from. Even though I've never run those trails, I was sure that I could somehow manage to get down the hill to the trail that goes to Dort Rd. How hard could it be?

With the first step off the familiar jeep trail on to the single track, we were flying down hill over rolling turns and stream crossings. At each new trail juncture, we hazarded a guess as to which way to turn. Eventually we found the much heard of, but never seen, Lily Pond. After that, we followed a less traveled single track downhill towards some nice waterfall type areas. At this point the trail seemed to fade out and we weren't quite sure what to do or where to go.

Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal. We could have bushwacked our way downhill to the lake, where we were sure to find the trail I was thinking of. But it was getting late. The skies were cloudy and the forest was getting dark. Neither of us packed our headlamps, so time was of the essence. Rolls of thunder could be heard in the distance and rain drops started or occasionally graze our skin. This was not a place to be for much longer.

We decided to turn around and retrace our steps back to the last trail juncture which I was familiar with and I would be able to get us out of the woods in a reasonable amount of time. I knew the run we had to the water falls was a solid downhill effort and every step back uphill reinforced just how burly it was. As we wove our way back up to safety, the woods darkened more and the rain drops became more frequent. The thunder became louder.

Once back on the usual trail, we began our decent through muddy trail and dark forest corners. Lightning lit up the sky above and the rain became steady as the temperature dropped. The trail was pretty damn dark right now. It was time to hall ass out of the woods and get to the comforts of Gunn Rd, where we could run the roads back into town with relative ease.

Out on Gunn Road, we ran the initial downhill mile in a cold down pour. Thunder was breaking right overhead and it was somewhere in this moment that we noted how bad ass this was. Nobody else was out doing this. Keith just started laughing at one point as the sky lit up yet again. That's when I noted, this is running. This is what I signed up for. This was the real deal. We were soaked head to toe, pushing the pace to keep from getting hypothermia, and deriving joy from every moment of it. It was a solid 15 mile effort, worth every maintenance mile I've run.

Return to Form

I gave myself a solid week off after the beast that was the Bear Mountain 50 miler. In the few days after the race my body began it's recovery process and the blistered centers of the balls of my feet healed up.

Mother's Day the weather proved too damn nice not to warrant a run, so with a cautious few hundred yards, I knew my body was ready to go. I went on to log 5 sub eight miles, the final mile clocking in at 6:15. Yep, it was all good in the hood.

The rest of the week provided plenty of opportunities for some decent length runs. Wednesday night's run was just a spectacle of awesome. With the leaves starting to bloom and the scent of spring finally making it's way into the air, it was one of the most welcome times of the year. It reminded me of being a kid, ready to go outside and turn the day into anything you wanted.

The ascent up Drummer was beautiful, so much so that I ran the upper trails to the top in a fashion that I was able to summit twice. Weaving through the single track, greenery was taking hold of the old, brown leaf ground. Streams had backed off their early spring levels and made the crossings a little less wet. 10 miles later, it was time well spent in the woods.

The trails are getting good out there... really good.

The North Face Bear Mountain 50 miler

If registering for the Bear Mountain 50 miler back in February, while in the warm sun of Florida didn't seem like a good idea, I'm not sure what would qualify as one. Coming off a winter of spotty running and a recent 50k, I felt I had enough in the pocket to get this one done.

Per usual, Keith and I loaded the car on Friday with enough gear to give the appearance of leaving for weeks on end, and headed to Bear Mountain State Park, just off the Hudson River, in New York. The race would start at 5AM the following morning, which made for a rather criminal 2:40AM wake up time. It was a little bit earlier than I prefer to wake up and run, but the grandeur of the event made it that much easier, and by 4AM we were in the mix of the event. We took care of the basic logistics of getting our bib numbers, t shirts, other associated swag, and our drop bags tagged for the aid station we wanted them to be sent to. It was about 20 minutes to go time and the hot cup of coffee in my hands was sitting well in the cool morning air.

Still dark out, we converged on the start line outfitted with head lamps and most of our essential gear for the day. After some words of encouragement from Dean Karnazes, we were unleashed unto the mountains of New York. The first few miles went back easy. Running with Keith and Cedric, we made jokes and bullshitted our way up the initial wet and muddy climbs. Wet and muddy would be a continued theme for the day as the area had just had 3 straight days of rain.

Around mile 2 or 3, Cedric backed off the pace and it was just Keith and I headed up the trails towards the now ever so faintly lit morning sky. Much like the Twin State 50k, Keith had the extra gear to grind up the hill just a bit faster. 50 miles is a long way to go and it would be imperative to run my own race. I let Keith go and settled into a rhythm with those around me. As we neared the peak and ridge line of the first climb, the views were becoming majestic. Fading darkness on the horizion outlined the surrounding mountains, while the stars were still visible directly above. The sound of train whistles echoed through the valley. I could run in that moment all day.

We head down the backside of the mountain and through the first aid station. Some people dropped off head lamps and ditched layers. I grabbed some water and kept on my way. The next several miles went by quickly. I eventually put on my ipod and enjoyed some good tunes while running up the next set of hills and ridge lines. Compared to New Hampshire, this part of New York was already well into spring with greenery blooming everywhere. After the long, hard winter we just endured, this was a welcome sight. After a few more climbs up the exceptionally rocky terrain, and a run through of the second aid station on the course, I found myself traversing a ridge with large trees, a grassy ground cover, and fantastic sun lit morning view. It looked like the kind of forest in which gnomes would live. I could also run this section all day. Despite what it demanded in technical running, the beauty of the area made it well worth the effort.

At mile 14, I finally stopped at an aid station to refill my race vest and have a few things to eat and drink. I hung out for a few minutes and I was off. This next section of trail was very much in a valley. Meandering around streams and large pine trees, it the most twisty and turny section of the race we would run. It was also the first, and thankfully only time, I took a brief detour off course with a few other people. We probably only lost a few minutes, so in the big scheme of things it wasnt a big deal.
As we rejoined the course, I run into Cedric, who I shot the shit with for a bit before he was no longer behind me.

Moving closer towards the next aid station the ground became significantly rockier. I found myself jumping from rock to rock and over streams. I was trying my best to keep my feet dry, but the course just wouldn't allow for it. Some streams you could cross via rocks of logs, other left you with no choice but to go straight though. While it does feel fantastic to soak your feet for a second in the cold stream water, running roughly 30 miles more in wet socks and shoes can lead to some pretty beat up feet.

The next aid station offered another chance to put down some food and refill my pack. After some screwing around with my pack and trying several times to put it on the right way, I'm good to go again. The next section of the trail was rather boring and involved a bit of road running into Camp Lanowa. Camp Lanowa was the mid point in the race and featured an aid station from which you would run a 5 miles loop before passing through the aid station again and then head out of camp. This was the aid station I had my drop bag sent to, but before I riffled through my gear, I decided to run the loop first. This for me was the most boring part for the race. 5 miles of not so scenic anything and some crappy trail conditions. I was happy to see the paved road that the loop merged with signifying the end of it.

I ran back into the aid station, shoveled down some of the food and soda at the tables and went to get the now very sought after drop bag. From previous races experience I learned that having a change of socks and shoes in the middle of the race was a great thing. I ran the first half of the race in my old Hokas. I could feel them becoming less and less supportive over the course of the day, as they had many miles on them and were at the end of their life. Luckily, I purchased a new pair of them the previous week and broke them in with a few days of being worn to work. I also had a brand new, never worn before, pair of compression socks to put on as well. This would be the ultimate treat for one"s self in the middle of an event like this. Oh, the luxury of dry feet and fresh shoes!

The main problem here, at least for me, was that I was pretty damn tired and sore. Bending over to try and put on a brand new pair of compression socks might have been the hardest thing I had to do all day. Every time I would reach for my feet, muscles in my hip or leg would cramp, causing me to have to retreat from the simple act of putting on socks. To make matters worse, brand new compression socks are TIGHT, with little give or elasticity. They took me at least, and this is no joke, 10 minutes to get on. If The Onion were writing a story about it, it would read: Area Man Over Comes Adversity and Puts On Socks. Armed with dry socks and new shoes, I was a new man. The bag of chocolate covered espresso beans I ate small handfuls of every so often, helped put a little pep in my step too.

The next few miles were rather uneventful. I eventually came out to a road and ran the rather steep, paved, down hill out to a main road. After crossing the road around mile 30, the group I was running with at the time was immediately greeted by the first "really freaking big hill". We shuffled our way up and enjoyed some nice cruising down hill trails for a bit before being dumped back out on a main road. Once at the main road, we needed to go up it for just under a mile. I chose to walk this section, as I was feeling pretty beat and didnt want to contend with this hill out in the heat of the day.

Once regaining the trail at the top, the next several miles were rock, mud, and water laden. Having put on dry socks and shoes at the halfway point, I was trying my best to keep my feet dry, but this course was just not going to allow for it. With the course in the condition it was, it was hard for me to keep a steady rhythm before needing to negotiate swamped out or muddy sections of the trail. It made for slow going and the miles just didn't seem to be coming as easy. I ran where I could and walked where I couldn't, forging on to the aid station at mile 40.

Coming in to the mile 40 aid station was a great relief. Just 10 more miles, what could be easier? I tried eating and drinking, but I just wasn't feeling it. I was doing it more because I knew I had to than I wanted to. Ugghh. Leaving that aid station was rough. I walked from it, trying damn hard not to lay down on the ground and sleep. I walked for almost a mile through a parking lot following two other women who were running the 50k. We passed a guy in the parking lot playing bag pipes, most likely because anyone he lived by him would kill him for playing them that loud. As I caught up with the two women, we talked for a moment before I realized I would probably need to eat more of the espresso beans in order to carry on. I took a big handful and offered some up to the ladies to which they claimed were even better than the ice cold coke back at the aid station.

It was then that I knew I had to soldier on. I started running with small baby steps. Those baby steps lead me up to another group of runners who I joined, then quickly departed. I started setting goals. Run for just one mile straight. After that it was, just run till the Garmin clicks off the next full mile. Run till the turn in the trail. Run to that hill. I put back a few miles that way, surprised at my own ability to distract myself well after my ipod battery died. There were some damn serious climbs up ahead. The sun and rain combination made for some humidity and the black flies engulfed my head. This was not the best the race had to offer. My feet were swamped and I could feel blisters growing on the balls of my feet. Running would have been so much easier without them, but the goal of the finish was so much more alluring, so I ignored them and pushed on.

With a stated 2.9 miles to go on the final aid station sandwich board, I came in with spirits high and guns blazing. A boy just out ahead of the station, who was no more than 8, was shouting things like, "Don't give up, anything is possible! You can do anything!" To which I replied, "Are you sure, because I'll never be pregnant." That roused the spirits of everyone else at the aid station and I grabbed a few last items to drink and eat.

The final few miles into the finish were rather boring. I ran alone the entire way, wondering where exactly the finish was. I couldn't hear a crowd, only the sound of trains in the distance, which Paul Simon loves... me too. GPS read outs had been off all day. EVERYONE was reporting that their watches were saying they had gone a mile further than the aid station sandwich boards were reporting as the current distances. How much more did I really need to go? All I really wanted was for the watch to click off 50 miles and my time to be under 12 hours, yet I have no idea how much further after that I would really need to go. Before long, I realize I'm running under the little over pass bridges we ran through on our way out of the start. The finish was right there. All of a sudden I could see the finish and hear the crowd. Coming into the park people were playing basketball. Kids were on swing sets and Keith was yelling my name from the sidelines as I made the final push into the finish. I crossed the line and hit stop on my watch a full 11 hours and 55 minutes since I had hit start. Distance read exactly 50.00 miles.

Post race is a wonderfully surreal experience. You still feel like you've stumbled out of a bar at 2AM, yet you're completely aware of what you've just accomplish. It was the first time in 12 hours that I allowed myself the pleasure of sitting down, and oh how grand it was. My feet were water logged and the new pair of Hokas looked like I had been running in them for months. Keith pointed out that I could walk right over to the booth where Dean Karnazes was doing a meet and greet thing, but that line looked awfully long. Sitting was king. And besides that, Keith had already done enough talking to him for the both of us.

Ultra Half-Assed

There are a lot of distances one can embark on. A 5k, 10k, half marathon, marathon and beyond. The beyond part qualifies as an ultra marathon, any distance greater than 26.2 miles. So, what if I run a little further than a half marathon? Say, 14 miles? It's further than a half marathon, so therefore, we have now deemed any distance between the half marathon and marathon an Ultra Half... seems more badass, right?

Thats just the distance Keith and I set out on today. I've been battling a cold since the later part of Sunday and Tuesday's 15 miler was no treat as the cold had be by the balls the entire way.

The gist of the run was simple. Head out of town on the railroad bed and then venture up a trail to Arrow Rock, a spot on top of a hill that has Native American carvings of a bow and arrow on it.

It wasn't long before I had to confess that the mere fact that the transvestite who Keith works with might get hot and bothered by children's drawings of me in drag (true story) was enough call this day a win. As always, things were going well and the conversation unsuitable for minors.

This might be the first point in the run where the food choices I made throughout my day, while delicious, were catching up to me. No problem. If I was a Boy Scout, I would have long ago received my shitting in the woods belt loop. I found my favorite tree in my favorite "using the bathroom" section of the trail, and took care of business. At first, and as always, I grab some leaves to clean myself. The problem here is that at this point in the season all the leaves are  dry and brittle. Nothing but leaf shards left in my ass.... awesome! Thank God I also carry a bag of TP in my pack for such an event. Problem solved!

Back to running. We keep on our way, bounding streams and finding new ways to possibly injure ourselves a week out from the Bear Mountain 50 Miler. As if my cold wasn't trouble enough, a busted ankle should all but seal the deal.

We summit Arrow Rock in just over an hour. We suck down a GU and S-Cap and head back DOWN the trail. Every thing to this point has been a climb. It felt good to open up the stride a bit and just cruise down the trail.

Annnnnd then there was that feeling again. The "was that lunch meat too old" feeling. Time to duck into the woods again. A little wiser this time, I avoid the leaves, and take the opportunity to put on my head lamp, as the sun was hanging low in the sky. I head back to the trail and catch up with Keith, who has been logging miles while I cuddle up with large pine trees.

The air is cool and its the first time this year that the temperature felt comfortable in the late dusk hours as we headed east. It was in this span that things felt easy, like the simple joy of a double Tweezer Reprise encore (Hell yeah, Hartfort 2010!) It was in this peak moment that.... gonna need to drop a deuce again.

Really? What the hell did I eat? How could there be any more?

Back on the trail, I catch up with Keith. Our watches beep in unison as we put back another mile. However, as Keith ran during all my ventures into the woods, his beep was indicating he was a mile ahead of me. He had logged an additional mile. I had done exactly one mile of shitting. Put that in your log book! ....Boooooooooooooooo.

The final miles back to where we started from were light footed and easy to come by. I was finally ready to start running. It just took and Ultra Half to get there.

Hero Miles

It started a few years back. We would be ending one of our trail runs and have roughly a mile of pavement to run back to where the cars were parked. Somewhere along the line we picked up the pace... and then continued to pick it up until we were in an all out sprint back to the cars. This practice became known as Hero Miles. It was the only way to end a run and it had to be done in dramatic fashion.

And as an added bonus, anytime during a run where someone starts pushing the pace just a bit too much, singing, We Don't Need Another Hero, by Tina Turner quickly gets the point across and makes the run that much more entertaining. After all, if its not fun, whats the point?

Aaaaannnnnnd we're off!

In the midst of reconstructing my life, the first event of my season quickly popped up and I was forced to reckon with it. Should I have had some more base miles? Probably. Could I have gotten those needed miles? That's negotiable. Either way, it was time to run the Twin State 50k. I had put together a fail safe plan for the first race of the year.... finish. Simple enough.

This fat-ass style race was vaguely marked with minimal aid stations. For this reason, I headed out with a full 2 liters of fluids in my race vest and another 32 ounces in various hand held devices, along with GU, S-caps, and some sandwiches. Have I ever carried this much stuff? Nope. Seem like a good idea for the first race of the year with minimal miles under my belt? I've done dumber things.

The race started by a friend of the RD quietly muttering "3,2,1...go". Really? Did the runners hanging out by their cars even know we were starting? Were we actually starting? Was this guy just practicing?  Ive seen more enthusiasm from a corpse at a funeral.

After assuming we were starting, we ran off up the paved street into the dirt roads of Vermont. The plan in my head was that I would just run with Keith, who after being out injured for the last half of 2013, was ready to annihilate the course. Within the first two miles he was clearly ready to run at a higher level than I was ready for at this point in my season, so I watched him run off into the distance as I maintained a comfortable pace. The joke on the car ride up to the race was that we each had brought our ipods, as if we didnt like each others company and planned to run solo. So this would have been an great time to put my headphones on and zone out for the next 29 miles if it weren't for the fact that I had left the ipod in the car. Damn.

After realizing I wasn't going to see Keith again until the finish, I looked behind me to see where Ced was. I figured I could just slow it for a second and run the rest with him, but a quick glance back showed no signs of him or many other runners for that matter. The next best thing to do was get a song in my head. One that was sure in ignite the after burners and get the adrenalin pumping. A song so powerful that I might fight innocent bystanders. A tune that would put a look of determination so deep in my eyes that I would incite terror in the minds of school children leaving them too scared to sleep in their own beds.

Thats when, for no good reason at all, Let's Get Physical by Olivia Newton John popped in my head. What? Why? I have 28 more miles to go and having this shit in my head wasn't helping the situation. I tried to get some Allman Brothers or some other recent ear worms that Ive enjoyed, but no. I was stuck with Let's Get Physical.

The course itself was very scenic. Rolling country hillsides with fantastic views on a bright sunny day. It really didn't get much better. Apparently about 6 miles of the course was also part of the VT100 course.

One of the other things that Im always claiming Im not going to do.... and then go and do anyway, is care about what place I'm in. I had been doing the math from the beginning. I knew I was running in what seemed like fifth or sixth place. I really wanted to just run for the sake of running and getting a long run in, but any time I saw anyone else on the course, I couldnt let go off the need to have some sort of tactical plan to deal with them. It made it a little less enjoyable, but if I could have one or two more places up on the finishing list, then I wanted them.

After 26 miles of pounding on my quads from the hills of Vermont, I ran back into town and past the start to cross the longest covered bridge in the world to reach the New Hampshire side of the Connecticut River. This was just a short 4 miles section, but one that gave people the most frustration. This section offered mostly all pavement and more hills. The course markings got hard to follow at this point. I wasnt quite sure where I was going until I ran into another runner who had just run two miles past where we were to have turned around. If it wasnt for him pointing it out, I too would have journeyed on past the turn around. Today was not a day for bonus miles. Hitting the turn around spot I knew the end wasnt too far away. It was mostly down hill to the bridge to cross back into Vermont and I knew with 2 miles left to go, that if I didnt walk, I would finish in under 5 hours. Knowing the end is right around the corner, my pace picked up and I made the final push into the finish in 4:58 and garnering 6th place.

I had figured I would have seen Keith on the out and back NH section. When I didn't I thought he had done one of two things. One: He absolutely killed it and finished before I even crossed into NH, or Two: He got lost.

I'm pretty sure its Murphy's Law that they guy who has the key to the car, will be the last to arrive. After finishing, I find Keith nowhere to be seen. I wonder around for a bit downing every liquid on the finishing table and wait. I eventually make my way up the parking lot entrance to the street and a few minutes later see Keith running towards me. The look on his face is not one of sunshine and rainbows. He then exclaims to me [content unsuitable for small children, medium sized children, large really fat kids, orphans, construction workers, hookers, mafia types, and the people of wal-mart] and runs into the finish ready to fight anyone who might have been associated with marking the course.

Apparently, he too was unaware of the turn around point and ran an extra 5 miles before being given a ride back to where he went off course by a dumbfounded local pickup driver. If it weren't for the off course adventure, he would have won by close to 20 minutes.

As we got back to the car, we did what any men in their 30's would do in a high school parking lot. Stand around in your underwear, drink beer, and comment on the epicness of a fellow runner's beard. It kind of felt like a scene from Dazed and Confused.

All in all, it was a good day for running. Having not had the miles under my belt that I would have liked it was more like a gluttonous day of binge running. The rest of the week has been spent having a running hangover in my quads. GOOD TIMES!

Clown Shoes Galactica IPA

Real Deal Running

Yesterday, a friend of mine who Ive know for the better part of 16 years ran his longest distance to date. It wasn't the distance itself that was impressive, it was the fact that it was his longest distance to date. Never mind the fact that he recently quit smoking, has been working out, and has lost a bunch of weight, he was now seeing the potential he has to accomplish bigger distances. As a runner, it was a very heady moment seeing someone else understand what it is to want these kind of goals and then chip away at them mile by mile. I thought back to the days when I too was excited by the accomplishment of 6 miles. When it was your longest run you felt like you owned the world after it. The fact that I had run 13 miles that morning was of no significance to the conversation. The real milestone for the day was 6. He was a king among men. His plan is to work up to running the Burlington Marathon with his fiance as relay. This is the goal out ahead of him. 13 miles and running into the finish line of a marathon. If that feeling does change your life, I'm not sure what will. Way to go buddy. Way. To. Go.

Hello? Is it me you're looking for?

If you've run with the same person long enough, and you don't have a filter for any of your conversations, you've learned a thing or two about them. I realized several months ago that after almost 4 hours on the trail that morning, I had 4 hours of a more meaningful conversation than I would at any other point in my day with my significant other. This struck me as strange, and to some degree, completely appealing. A running partner is in many ways like sitting in a shrinks office working through the shit of everyday life. There is no judging and no need to feel like you need to tailor the conversation to make someone happy or to simply say what they want to hear. Its therapy at its finest.

Going long can also lead to some great moments in conversation. Its referred to as "D material". With in the first hour or so of a run you get all the good stuff out, which would probably be the "A material". You're still on point and your humor is sharp. You start off talking about what you've been doing, work stuff, beers that you've been drinking, you know, the important stuff. Then as the run progresses on and you become a little more worn, the conversation turns a little to why you only like 5 people and everyone else that would come to your funeral would be told they were shitty people and you didnt really like then via a prewritten message. Then a little further down the trail you see a discarded mattress that begs to have a story told about it that includes the pair of little boy's Batman underwear that were seen about ten yards from the mattress. A bit later you're sure you will achieve financial independence with the jaw breaker ball gag you've just conceptualized. I mean really? Don't you just have a hankering for some candy amidst the throws of rough sex? Was the music better with heroin? Did that stripper really have to dance to Lightning Crashes? She apparently wanted to, so I made her cry and walk off stage. These are the miles where "D material" is at it's finest and memories are made.

But by mile 5 million, you can no longer make coherent sentences. You rely on ingrained memories. Singing Hello by Lionel Ritchie to aid station volunteers will sure make their day, even though you can't tell them that you need coffee and food stat! Then words don't even come out, just sounds... and you laugh at those sounds. When you can muster up words, you say things like, "Great job! Keep it up!" to someone along the course who isn't running and is just walking to their mail box to get the mail.

I guess it takes just the right type of mentally disturbed idiot to enjoy this, and I'm glad to say I have a funny farm of friends to carry on with.

Waiting to go.

It's been noted on several occasions that the best I feel all day is during the peak moments of a run nestled far out in the woods. Whatever might transpire once I return home could be great, but it's not going to top that feeling at that moment running out on the trails. The realization of how great those moments out in the woods are has had a dramatic effect on me. Running has become an addiction of sorts. I can always go a few more miles. And further more, I want to know what its like to go those few more miles. I want to know how great I can become. In a way, it's very much like a user chasing the high from drugs, except you can't get pulled over on the suspicion of having running shoes in the car.

Recent life events have reshaped the future I'll have with running in a wonderful way. While I was able to fit running into my schedule, it wasn't something I could focus on the way I wanted to. I felt like I was just waiting to go. I was waiting til I could dive head long into pursuing what could become of my running and what could become of a life that allows it to happen. We're going talk about getting awesome for sure!

Oh, and we're also going to talk about beer. Another passion that takes up quite a bit of discussion time on the trails!