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.
Friday, April 25, 2014
Sunday, April 13, 2014
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?
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?
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
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!
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!
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