The North Face Endurance Challenge
50 Mile Run
Washington DC
September 19, 2009

This year’s TNF run was quite a bit different from previous years…2008 never happened due to an impending hurricane, and 2007 reached a high temp. in the low 100’s and almost unbearable humidity. The 2009 race was held in near perfect conditions, with temps in the mid-70’s and almost cloudless skies. The race course was also different this time—the start/finish was located at Algonkian park (near the midpoint turnaround of the 2007 event), and the course included three loops through Difficult Run and past Great Falls. The scenery and high volume of runners kept the triple loop challenge from becoming too monotonous, but four loops would have been too much.

Race day began at 3:00 am with typical pre-race rituals and a half hour drive from Le Fleabag motel in Chantilly (courtesy of Priceline) to Sterling. Arriving at the park at 4:00 a.m., I was pleasantly surprised to see the huge number of Boy Scouts and other volunteers our directing traffic with flashlights and glow-sticks. When I ran the “inaugural” race in 2007, I think most runners would agree that the race organization was not exactly on its “A-game”... the few volunteers that were there weren’t exactly up to speed on course logistics, markings were few and far between, and aid stations were understocked with essentials—not exactly what one would expect in a “trophy” series put on by such a prominent sponsor. Not so this time.

As I walked over to the start/finish area, I was impressed with the sheer number of tents, lights, and volunteers. Lines for everything (even port-o-jon’s) were short, despite the 200 runners in attendance. I met up with fellow 100-mile veteran Bob Gentile, who gained last minute entry into the race along with his girlfriend Natalia (who finished her first 50-miler, and kicked both our butts…although she was walking like a zombie when she was done). We caught up with each other for a few minutes before lining up at the start. Bob’s plan was to run out fast with Natalia, and drop back later in the race if necessary…so the three of us made our way to the front of the field within view of champion ultrarunners Leigh Schmitt, Michael Wardian and Ben Nephew (who won with a 7 second lead over Schmitt).

As expected, when the gun went off the field took off in full sprint. The course is relatively flat (maybe 4000 ft. of gain…with no real climbs over a hundred feet or so), and not terribly technical (some roots and rocks, with an occasional tree shimmy to cross a creek). Add to that the fact that the course was on familiar territory to Wardian and Scmitt, and this would prove to be a fast one for the champs. My goal was to play it conservatively and run by heart rate the entire time, so I fell back a bit and found a comfortable pace mid-pack.

All things considered, most of my running was textbook—gel every 45 minutes, electrolytes every hour, 60 ounces of water every 2.5 hours, (and peeing often). Drymax Pro socks kept my feet comfortable and blister free the entire time, although my Inov-8 Roclite 320s were just a tad too snug in the toebox—hence 6 black toenails. Other than getting some stinging nettles lodged between my left shoulder and Camelbak, it was a pretty comfortable day.

Bob, Natalia and I met up going into the first loop at Difficult Run. They had started out at a decent pace, but had to slow down due to Bob’s nagging leg injury. We stuck together for a while, eventually convincing Natalia to go ahead. After a few more miles, I ended up pulling ahead of him. When I caught up to him on the next loop, he was smiling but in some obvious pain (then again, he’d be smiling if someone were there cutting his leg off with a rusty hacksaw). By the third loop, I didn’t see him at all and hoped he was just playing it smart (he was, since he only finished 45 minutes behind me).

After my third loop, I was pretty happy to be on my way back to the finish. Now about 36 miles in, my pace had slowed some but my heart rate was still comfortably in the 140-150 range. Unfortunately, I had also become a bit too comfortable with my surroundings and I missed a turn, running along the river trail for a good half mile more than I should have. When I finally realized I hadn’t seen any other markers or runners, I turned back and picked up the pace.

By mile 40, I was hitting a bit of a low point. I tried mixing things up with a berry flavored gel versus the vanilla-caramel Accel I had been swallowing all day. I also noticed that even though my heart rate was staying in range, breathing was somewhat labored. Nothing horrible, but it certainly required more effort than I expected. In retrospect, this was likely allergy related.

At the mile 43 aid station, I saw Natalia again, who had been anxiously waiting for Bob for a good 25 minutes. I assured her that Bob would have dropped if he was in no shape to run, so she took off while I filled my Camelbak for the last time. I snarfed down a banana (the only solid food of the morning), and hit the trail.

Arriving at the next aid station, I was disappointed to learn that I had to run a 1.5 mile spur before heading into the finish. Nonetheless, I remained positive and chugged along with a “just do it” attitude. When I finished the loop, I checked my watch and saw I was 10 hrs and 46 minutes into the race. Well ahead of the 13 hour cutoff, but I was hoping to finish with a sub-11 hour time. I avoided the aid station altogether, swallowed one last gel, powered up some tunes and tried my best to hammer out the last two miles. With my heart rate reaching the high 160’s (and breathing no less labored than it had been earlier), I hit the finish with an official time of 11:01:15. A great finish, but the ease at which I ran the last two miles made me realize that I had played way too conservatively. Nevertheless, I finished comfortably, and was able to enjoy food at the finish line festival and compare war stories with Bob and Natalia before making my way home through all of that delightful Northern VA traffic.

Old Dominion 100. . .k

The drive to Woodstock, VA went exactly as I hoped it wouldn’t: rain (which ended when I got there) and traffic for miles on Route 66. Having left the office at noon, I did factor in some extra time for the inevitable delays. I arrived at the Shenandoah County fairgrounds (race headquarters) at 4:45 pm—just enough time to check in, weigh in, distribute my drop bags, and find a seat for the 5:00 pm briefing.

Ray Waldron, the race director, kept the briefing concise. He reviewed the course and the marking strategies, and informed us that the recent 5” of rainfall they received may make things a bit wet. At least the focus for race day was all sun and temps in the 80’s. Two years prior, I was in Woodstock to run the Old Dominion Memorial 50 miler with my friend Meredith Murphy, and we were greeted by temps in the 90’s -100’s, with unbearable humidity. Race founder, Patt Botts, also recapped a brief history of the race—how it began in the 70’s as an endurance horse race in similar fashion to Western States. And, a-la-Western States, they eventually decided to let a few crazy runners give it a go. They bill the race as an “old school ultramarathon”, one of the first on the east coast. And with a mere 39 individuals toeing the line for this 100 mile trek, complete with 28,000 feet of elevation change, and a few handfuls of volunteers, it felt pretty low key.

After the briefing, I made the two minute drive over to the Holiday Inn, checked into my room, and walked downtown to Tony’s Italian Restaurant for a good, inexpensive carbo-load. An hour later, I was back in my hotel room, where I sorted through gear, took a hot bath, and tossed and turned until 2:15 a.m.. When I did sleep, I woke nearly every hour to check the clock—the hotel alarm clock was busted (no replacements available)…another reason to be nervous, despite setting the alarm on my phone, watch, asking for a wake up call, and even a call from my wife at 2:30 a.m. Finally, I filled up on some coffee, and made a last minute decision to wear just Drymax socks rather than taping/lubing with Smartwools—figuring the tape would likely come off and ball up.

I arrived at Race Headquarters around 3:30 a.m., and made my way over to the crowd. I met a couple of familiar faces from Umstead, and we chatted a bit. Although I had been up for over an hour and a half, I was still dog-tired, and felt as foggy as the air outside. Next thing I knew, they called us to the start line for a brief prayer, and we were off.

As some seemingly ill-suited music blared across the loudspeakers, runners took off for the obligatory “ceremonial” loop around the racetrack. I was still in a bit of a sleep-deprived fog, but was well aware of the fact that this group of runners meant business. Rather than starting at a light trot, the group as a whole sped its way around the track and out towards town. I’m not entirely sure of the track distance, but I do know that at 4:06 a.m. we were moving through the neighborhoods of downtown Woodstock. I soon came to my senses and decided to back off, so I slowed the pace to a more casual run. Within two miles, I had left a good ¼ mile split between myself and the main pack.

Thick fog reflected the light from my headlamp as I approached Burnshire Dam. I could see about 10 feet in front of me. Random chem.-light markers broke the monotony of whiteness. On the other side of the dam, I began the first climb of the day, up Woodstock Mountain.

From Old Dominion

When I ran ODM 2 years ago, we hit the mountain by daybreak and were treated to spectacular views of the valley below. Not the same today. I meandered through the switchbacks of gravel road, and within 20 minutes had climbed above the fog. The moon was bright enough that I was able to switch off my headlamp, and power up the hills. The aid station at the top of the mountain came upon me quickly, even though I was at the back of the pack. I didn’t need to stop, so I took a bite of powerbar and began a quick descent, with a left turn to Mine Mountain drive. The gravel roads gradually wound down the mountain, and it was very tempting to speed up.

Eventually, we turned onto a rocky single-track trail which ascended the mountain for quite some time. The sun was up now, and the fog was breaking up in spots. While climbing along the trail, I decided to grab my first energy gel—Genr8 Vitargo that I mixed the day prior and packed into five gel flasks. In past trials at home, it seemed to work better than standard maltodextrine gels. Unfortunately, today’s entire batch solidified into masses of solid rubber in each of the gel flasks I had prepared...useless. I was pissed and apprehensive, knowing that if I were to stay in the game I’d have to survive all day off the food at the aid stations alone…namely pretzels, cookies, and the occasional peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I had one other power bar left, and I decided to save it for a real low spot. Historically, I’ve never done all that well on processed sugars during endurance events. PB&J would give me bulk calories, but didn’t digest as quickly as a gel.

The single-track trail began a healthy, rocky descent down to the Boyer Aid Station again, where I filled up on water and chips ahoy cookies. The next stretches of gravel country roads were familiar from the ODM route…past horse farms

From Old Dominion

, cattle farms, an old hippie bus/shack (which I’m still not sure if it’s not unoccupied).

From Old Dominion

It was nice to travel the familiar roads, especially in such pleasant temperatures. The last time I ran down that road the temps were holding steady near 100. I climbed the final hill of this stretch up to the Aid Station, loaded up on more cookies and a half of a PB&J sandwich, and scurried across to Boliver Road.

Within 10 minutes of running along Boliver, my stomach finally protested the mass quantities of sugary crap I’d been consuming, and I puked up everything that was in me. Nice. I sat down on a rock at the side of the road, cleaned some gravel out of my shoes, took a swig of water to rinse out my mouth, and took off running again. A mere 20+ miles into the course and I was wondering whether I should just call it a day.

From Old Dominion

For the next 10 miles, I pushed on over the rolling hills, through more horse country.

From Old Dominion

The gorgeous views of the surrounding mountain range helped pick me up a bit, and I turned on my mp3 player for some mental distraction.

From Old Dominion

When I rolled into the aid station at Camp Roosevelt, I was feeling somewhat better, but I knew the course was about to get technical again. As I filled my camelback, Justin Lantz (the winner) was already coming out of the Duncan Hollow loop and looked a bit wet and muddy. I overheard him tell some of his crew that the trail was more like a river, but it was definitely the most enjoyable part of the course. I chowed a few handfuls of more generic refined crap, and topped it off with a ginger chew in hopes that it would help keep things settled.

Leaving Roosevelt was a rocky single-track climb up another mountain for a couple of miles, followed by a stretch of paved road back near Roosevelt and out onto the Duncan Hollow trail. The first 1000’ feet of trail were in good shape. After crossing the first small creek, I saw the trail markers on the other side leading up what looked like a small waterfall.

From Old Dominion

I simply smiled and jumped in. And for the majority of the next 5 miles, this rocky stretch of the Massanutten trail was flowing like a small river anywhere from shin to knee deep.

From Old Dominion

It was fun splashing along in the cool water, although the slick rocks did make footing difficult at times. At one point, I did manage to whack my right foot against a large rock submerged in some slow moving muddy water, but I figured I had to lose at least one toenail for posterity.

From Old Dominion

Halfway through the trail, a couple of big ol’ backcountry biker dudes on dirt bikes greeted me at the “Peach Orchard” aid station (at that point, a big swamp) so I grabbed a few cookies and topped them off with another ginger chew. The trail soon began to dry off a bit as it wound up some steeper, rocky hills and looking out over some areas of burned forest. Surprisingly, this was one of the highest points along the course, but it certainly wasn’t the worst climb. The trail was much more exposed, and much hotter.

From Old Dominion

I pushed on through a rocky climb and descent, through a nice stream and out to an aid station for my first weigh in. Despite the junk food, water, and holding my bladder in anticipation of this, I was down almost 5 lbs. in 40 miles. Loose too much and they make you sit and gain weight at the aid station (I guess they just stuff you full of PB&J). The doc could tell I was feeling OK, so she let me continue.

After I slipped out onto the road and around the corner from the aid station, I found a place to pee, and then ran back to camp Roosevelt for the last time. While there, I sat down and changed out of my Drymax socks (which were loaded in sand and grit from all of the water), taped up as a preventative measure), drank some pedialyte from my drop bag, ate more chocolate, refined crap and ginger, and headed out and UP toward Edinburg gap. This section was all on open country roads. It was getting hot, and the climb was tedious, but my feet were comfortable which made me happy. Horseflies began their assaults, so I tied my bandanna over my head to keep them out of my hair. Most of this stretch was climbing, but there were a few rolling sections where I was able to run. At 4:00 pm I crossed the 50 mile mark. 12 hours. Definitely at the back of the pack, but given my condition I’d take it.

From Old Dominion

When I finally arrived at Edinburg aid station, I filled my Camelback again, and the folks there were kind enough to make me a whole PB&J sandwich. I snarfed down a few cookies as they prepared it, then crossed the street and began my ascent up the muddy, gravelly ATV trail, sandwich in hand. The trail was too steep to try and eat and climb at the same time, so I managed to find a rock to sit on while I chowed the sandwich.

From Old Dominion

I neglected to take another ginger chew, figuring that my stomach was holding up fine. 5 minutes later, after a couple of kids on trail bikes blew 2-cycle fumes in my face, I hurled everything back up…again. Dammit. I was more upset about wasting all the time making and eating the sandwich than I was on throwing it up. Now pissed off, I pushed on up an unrelenting, nasty climb…which lead to several false summits and more rocky trails. An occasional view of the surrounding mountains (and all of the mountain laurel in bloom)

From Old Dominion

helped to lift my spirits a bit.

From Old Dominion

Finally, the trail mellowed out to a slightly downhill jeep trail, so I was able to pick up the pace and actually start running again. I was guesstimating mileage by minutes since the last aid station and looking forward to the Little Fort aid station at mile 65, which was rumored to have a great selection of food. Around mile 59, I ran around a bend in the trail and heard a loud rustle in the trees, which sounded like someone bushwhacking. As I came around the bend, I was startled, however, by the sight of two baby bear cubs messing about in the canopy of a small cherry tree which was barely big enough to hold the two of them. They were 20 feet away at best. I immediately stopped in my tracks and considered grabbing my camera…until I saw Mama bear just on the other side of a large puddle at the base of the tree (maybe 30 feet away). Mama didn’t like Paparazzi disturbing the kids, and she stood up on her hind legs, opened her enormous jaws and let out a bit of a snarl/growl, staring at me the entire time. I was FROZEN with fear. With only 30 feet between us I had no shot of outrunning her, and the fist sized rocks on the ground would do nothing but aggravate the situation. The only thing going through my mind was “This is a shitty way to die.”. Plain and simple. I thought I was toast. Stinky toast. But still toast.

The stare-down continued for just a few seconds, when suddenly the baby cubs realized what was going on and came tumbling out of the tree and scurried into the woods. Mama lowered onto all fours and followed. My body instinctively went from “fright” to “flight” mode, and I sprinted like a Kenyan trying to win the Boston Marathon. The next mile wasn’t just the fastest of the day, but it was probably the fastest my short, fat legs have ran in my life! My heart rate was off the chart, breathing almost uncontrollable, and every muscle started to burn from lactic acid buildup. When I saw the jeep by the pond at the next aid station, I slowed down so I could catch my breath and warn the officials. Fortunately, I was one of the last few runners on that part of the course, so they only had a few others to worry about. I left the aid station as soon as I could, knowing Little Fort was less than 5 miles away, and daylight was dimming. I was starving and my entire body ached.

The next few miles to Little Fort were interesting. The trail was gradually rolling jeep roads, with random ATV traffic thrown in for good measure. I ran most of the length at a leisurely pace, and at one point was passed by a runner who had apparently made a wrong turn earlier and added 18 miles to his day (and still finished well below the 28 hour cutoff, towards his fifth completion of “The Last Great Race”). I was in rough shape. Despite the leisurely pace, my legs continued to burn, and the horseflies intensified their assault on me. Mama bear had me spooked to the point that every stump out in the darkening woods looked like a bear. Every rustle in the trees had me on edge. At one point, I swore that a bright green lizard scurried along at my side, only proving to be a leaf that was stuck to my leg by a spider’s web. At my current speed (if you could call it that), I had a shot at making the midnight cutoff at mile 75, but I knew the climb up and down the treacherous Sherman’s Gap would likely do me in. But coupling exhaustion with my lack of nutrition, I doubted my ability to maintain pace for those 10 miles.

I finally reached Little Fort aid station around 8:00 pm. 65 miles in just under 18 hours. No land speed record there. The rumors were correct, as the aid station was an outdoor buffet. I sat down in a dreaded chair, chowed down as much real food and soup as I could manage, drank another pedialyte from my drop bag, and threw in the towel. Fortunately, the aid station was very well staffed, and after some conversation with the race director and a few other officials, a kind soul gave me a ride down the mountain back to the fairgrounds. En route, I was surprised to find that we were only a mile or two away from the summit of Woodstock Mountain, where we passed Jason Lantz on his way to a 18:35 finish!

When we arrived back at headquarters, I checked out with the timing official, plopped into my car, called my wife, and headed back to the Holiday Inn where I slept like a baby for 8 uninterrupted hours. The next morning, I returned to the fairgrounds to see a few fellow runners cross the line. Out of 39 starters, 22 finished the race and 12 of those made it in less than 24 hours. There’s always next year.

Umstead 2009



Despite a year of waiting, hundreds of hours of training, and a six hour car ride to Raleigh, the start of the 2009 Umstead 100 mile endurance run seemed to sneak up on me quickly. Arriving at race headquarters just after 5:00 a.m., I checked my drop bags, spent some time waiting in the line for the latrines, popped on my headlamp and headed towards the starting area. Already operating on low-sleep, everything was a bit of a blur. The starting area always seems like a reunion as I met up with many friends, including Mandy, Anthony, Bob, Emmy (and later fellow slugs James and Rebecca Moore, Russell B. Cheney, and Angela Ivory). Next thing I knew, the gun was fired and the crowd started moving.

Heading out on the first of eight loops, I went through a mental checklist of how I was feeling—surprisingly well for the first time in weeks. No aches/pains/chafing. Shoes felt good, and I could hardly even tell I was wearing an ankle brace. Still dark, I meandered through the crowd and soon found a good spot where I could comfortably “fall in” and run. With this being my third year on the course, I had a good read on the terrain:

The first ½ mile out is a bit rough (not bad at the start cos you take an alternate leg which is flat and adds about an 1/8th mile), downhill (over some steps), up some rooty terrain to a rocky/gravel road where runners often compete with traffic. Then out to the airport spur—a predominantly flat and open stretch of trail that overlooks the runways of RDU airport—ending at a turnaround point (unmanned at night). After the turnaround, head back out past mile 2 and the main aid station spur, out into some rolling hills. Most of the hills are pretty runnable on any random day, but most of the time I just shortened my stride and ran easily up, and let gravity do the work on the way down. At mile 3’ish was the first water stop—an unmanned tent with a few coolers of water and Gatorade, and some random snacks. To the left of the tent was the “turn back” of the course loop. Outbound runners continue straight up a slightly longer hill, which is followed by a really nice set of downhill sections past Reedy Lake. Very scenic, but also very tempting to run a fast downhill and burn out your quads. Mile 4.5 or so marked the beginning of a fairly major climb. Long and slow, for a solid ½ mile. In years past, I’ve found this section to be absolute drudgery, but my increasing affinity for hills made this much more enjoyable. Just after mile 5 was another un-manned water stop. Just the basics set out on a picnic table. The trail then levels out and narrows for a bit, winding through some pine trees with one or two scenic overlooks down the power lines. Drop down another short hill and hit mile 6—a deceptively long mile since you’re excited about hitting the next aid station. It never seems to come quick enough, as you wind back through the wisteria draped woods, weave along a main road a few times, then finally down a steep hill to the aid station. Although the water and Gatorade tasted like hose water here this year, it was always a welcome respite—stocked with all sorts of good food and access to drop bags. It’s always tempting to stay and talk and eat, but I generally moved in and out quickly, and typically trying to eat all of my goodies before entering the “sawtooth” section just past mile 7. This section consisted of rolling terrain interrupted by four or five steep uphill/downhills and switchbacks. Strategy was to move gently and not beat myself up here. The “sawtooth” section pretty much levels out after mile 9, where you hit a few ups and downs, hang a sharp left onto a wider trail and pick up a good bit of downhill past mile 10. The downhill gets a bit steeper, then you cross another wooden bridge, up a short but reasonably steep hill to the water stop tent which intersects outbound mile 3. Then hang a right, deal with the rolling hills (which get progressively longer with each loop) back to the Aid Station/Headquarter spur, down the rocky trails to the start/finish area.

The first 50 miles (4 loops) couldn’t have been any nicer. My plan was to run conservatively and stay at my own pace. The weather was in the upper 60’s and sunny, so I was very comfortable in just shorts and a tee shirt. My calf compression sleeves weren’t the least bit uncomfortable either, and I had absolutely NO lower leg pain. I did spend a few miles running alongside some very nice folks, swapping stories and passing away the time. But I did keep to my overall plan and adjusted my pace as I saw fit rather than trying to keep up with others. At this point, I was running pretty consistent loops, as I would pass by various friends at pretty much the same points along the course. I also kept my nutrition in check by making sure I was eating at least 200 cals/hour, mostly by eating real food rather than gels. For the first two loops I was drinking Gatorade rather than water, but I did find this to upset my stomach a bit, so I did switch over to water with one S-cap every 1.5 hours. Towards the end of this half of the race, I was growing a bit concerned about how I was processing fluids, and knew I had to be increasingly cautious of my water/electrolytes as the cooler evening approached. Finally, after four loops in the washing machine I pulled into the Start/Finish aid station just before 5:00 p.m., completing 50 miles in 10 hours, 47 minutes.

Finishing up 50
Prior to leaving for lap six, I gathered my evening gear together for quick access, emptied out my shoes (which were surprisingly grit free), lubed up, applied some BioFreeze to my quads, drank about 20 ounces of Pedialyte, and tossed my headlamp in my back pocket. I greeted fellow runners Taciana (finished 50 at Umstead along side her last year), Jennifer (who I ran the last few miles of Masochist with and was now pacing) and Jesse (who ran the first half of Masochist in November), grabbed a piece of pizza and scurried down the trail.

My goal for the next 50 miles was anyone’s guess. Sure, it would have been nice to shoot for 24 hours, but I wasn’t going to hold myself to it. For months, I had been drilling it into my head that the goal was to just finish…no dropping unless bone was showing. I now had 19 hours left before the cutoff, so I was feeling pretty safe. Not knowing how my body was going to react over the night, I purposefully slowed my pace by walking more of the shorter hills, and completely go by feel on the downhills. Within a few miles, I once again had to answer nature’s call, which was a good sign that the Pedialyte was working its magic. Overall, the pace was easy and I felt good. By A/S 2 the sun was beginning its descent. I grabbed some warm potato soup and a bagel and shuffled out quickly. Before hitting the sawtooth I met a woman named Ann who was on the same loop. She and her husband were from Colorado and both were running the race. She was well versed in running 100’s, and we ran/walked from the sawtooth until she came across her husband who was running outbound around mile 2.5. It was now dusk, and starting to get chilly so I picked up the pace a little and headed back to the start/finish.

It was a little after 8:00 p.m. when I rolled back in. Now dark, I was looking forward to seeing how the night would treat my tiring body. I was pretty comfortable with the jacket, and had a hat and gloves if it got cooler. I grabbed my mp3 player from my drop bag, slathered on some more BioFreeze on my quads (which were starting to get a bit sore at the time), and applied some lube to all the necessary places. The aid station cabin was starting to look pretty comfortable, with all of the chairs, blankets, food, and a few folks taking naps, so I did my best to move out as quickly as possible.

Grabbing a handful of food, I marched back downhill and did the usual routine, trying to eat and shuffle along the rocky aid station spur. I don’t usually run with music, so I took a moment to adjust the earpieces/volume, and found my way out to the airport spur. The music had an immediate effect on my frame of mind and I really started to pick up the pace. Within a few miles, I quickly became aware of 2 problems—1. the music had me a bit too pumped and I was pushing myself harder than I should have, and 2. I was focusing too much on the immediate spot of light from my headlamp, which was making me a bit sour and not allowing me to differentiate changes in elevation too well. I quickly solved that problem by switching to some mellow tunes, and decided to rely on moonlight as much as possible. Finally reaching AS2, I ditched the mp3 player altogether. I downed another small cup of potato soup, Mountain Dew, and some sandwich pieces, and put my headlamp on for the wooded sawtooth section. As I headed past the mile 7 marker, I passed several large puddles of vomit, and a couple of guys who smelled like a colostomy bag which exploded in a Ben Gay factory. Normally, I have a pretty strong stomach, but I could almost feel myself starting to heave. I picked up my pace past these guys did my best to put some distance between us quickly. By the time I got out of the sawtooth section, I found myself growing increasingly tired. The hills were taking much more effort, and my legs were starting to get sore and heavy. In addition, I also felt some discomfort in the ball of my left foot, as well as irritation of a couple toes. I shuffled along the downhills, sometimes walking stretches in order to control the increasing discomfort in my feet. As I crossed a bridge, I thought I noticed headlamps coming towards me. They would last for a couple of seconds and then go out. Some were clear, others the typical LED blue, and a few were even red. Strange, considering this was a one way section of the course. Was I lost? I could see the glow-sticks on a course marker ahead so I knew I wasn’t lost…and then the people never materialized with those headlamps anyhow. I found a Gu-gel in my back pocket and squeezed out every last drop in hopes of a late-night pick-me-up. I shuffled on, eventually hitting the return spur, and headlamps that were connected to real bodies.

I hit the start/finish AS just before midnight, and I knew I would have to lose a few minutes there. I quickly busted out two cans of Starbucks Double Shot Espresso, and drank them both as I removed my left shoe, ankle brace and sock. I did have some minor blistering on the ball of my foot, and a toenail that had lifted up quite a bit due to an underlying blister. Some young girls who must have been there supporting a family member watched in disgust as I popped one blister open and then smashed my toenail down to pop the underlying blister. I cleaned everything up with an alcohol pad, applied some benzoin to help with taping, and tried my best to neatly patch up my toe and ball of foot. Satisfied, I cleaned everything up quickly, put myself back together, rolled some more biofreeze on my quads, and walked out the door.

For some reason, it struck me several times on this seventh loop that this was the furthest I had ever run. As I did my best to try run the airport loop I felt fatigue setting into my legs. I slowed up a some and began walking up some of the smaller hills. My taping job held together pretty well, but I could still feel quite a bit of pain in my left foot, and in my right as well. The miles clicked by slowly. Oddly, the parts that I began to dread the most were the flat parts. The half moon shone brightly on the path and I tried my best to keep the headlight off whenever possible. Every once in a while I would see the same “phantom headlamps”, and on a couple of occasions I do remember seeing a few cabins on the trail where none had been before, as well as a random man standing by a fence post (which clearly turned out to be tree). I tried to bring myself back to reality by stretching, deep breathing, and occasionally munching on crackers. I honestly don’t even recall hitting the aid station at this point, but apparently I did around 2:30 a.m.. I more or less settled into something of a shuffle and kept moving forward. I don’t remember much of anything from the sawtooth section until just before the water stop near mile 11. At the base of that hill, I suddenly felt extremely dizzy, lightheaded and nauseous. Not good. I stopped moving momentarily, and took a few small sips of water. I could see folks up at the water stop tent just maybe a hundred feet away, so I focused on trying to get there. I took my time and moved slowly uphill, into the tent. I sat down on a small bench near one of the water containers and refilled my bottle, splashing some water on my salt encrusted face. I found a vanilla Gu gel, and swallowed it quickly, washing it down with some water and a piece of candied ginger to help settle everything. I waited for a few minutes, hoisted myself up and zombie walked back to the start/finish area.

When I finally completed the 7th lap, I was wiped out. Mentally, I was on another planet. Physically, my legs were starting to seize up a bit from moving so slowly. I debated even going into the cabin for fear of stopping completely and dropping from the race. Somehow, I found it in me to just keep moving—as soon as I walked into the aid station, I walked back out for my final loop. It was roughly 4:40 a.m. now. My “splits” were a joke, but I knew that as long as I could endure the pain I still quite a bit of time left to finish. What a mess. I shuffled along when I could, and walked when it was too sore to shuffle. My feet were on fire and I wished that I had just taken the time to tend to them at the last aid station stop. Too late now.

After the first mile, I came upon another runner who was also in some rough shape. As soon as he started talking, I realized it was my friend Bob (who I was running with when my leg snapped at JFK). We commiserated on our injuries for a couple of minutes, and then he turned to me and said, “My name’s Bob.” I laughed for a second, realizing that just maybe he was in slightly worse shape than I was. “Bob, it’s me, Derek!” He nearly fell off to the side and we both got a good laugh over it.

The last lap was pathetic. I thought lap seven was pretty bad, but we were moving like zombies now. The slower we moved, the stiffer we got. Even my lower back was starting to ache. Besides the blistering on the bottoms of both feet, I could also feel my feet swelling. The top of my right foot was swollen and the tendons sore. And I had also developed some horribly painful chafing on my inner thighs that made every movement of my legs a joy. Despite the enormous pain, Bob and I still found many opportunities to laugh along the way…mostly by making fun of one another and how ridiculous we must have looked doing our Frankenstein walks. It was a miserable death march, but somehow we made the best of it.

The “second sunrise” of the race was around 6:30 am as we were approaching the second aid station. We were both cold from moving so slowly, and tried to soak up the sun whenever we could. We stopped momentarily at the aid station, and asked for some minestrone broth, which happened to be ice cold. No breaks for us…we just kept crawling. It was a complete joke trying to get through the sawtooth section…side stepping our way downhill. When we left the sawtooth sections, the trails were getting busy with other recreational runners, walkers, and cyclists who all kindly smiled at us and told us we were “looking good!”. Yeah….right! Finally, nearly 2 hours and forty-five stinkin’ minutes after leaving AS2 (yeah, 5.5 miles in 2.75 hours, do the math), we hobbled up the hill to the finish line for a final finish time of 28 hours, 14 minutes and 22 seconds. At first, I wasn’t at all thrilled with my finishing time, but as one of the race directors handed us our finisher’s buckles it dawned on me that I had achieved my goal of finishing. 100 miles. Done. More than 100 minutes left on the clock. What a ride!

After finishing, my good friend Mandy guided me back inside the cabin and found some French toast for me. I nibbled at it, and worked quickly to loosen up my shoes and rest my feet for a while. I went outside for a bit, met up with fellow slugs James and Rebecca, and saw Angela cross the finish line. I was fading fast, so Mandy kindly shuttled me back to the hotel where I carefully showered and passed out for a few hours. Later that afternoon, we made our way up to Bob and Tony’s (Tony blew it out of the water, arriving in 21:39) room, which was like Grand Central. Dave James, the unexpected champ (finishing in 15:05, after running 50 in 6:16 and tried to drop…but the RD made him finish) came up to hang out, along with Emmy (who finished in 22:18). Mandy had also PR’d by blowing her last 50 mile finish out of the water by more than an hour and twenty minutes. Eventually, we all made our way out for a great celebration dinner. I sat back amidst all of the conversations, and a smile crossed my face as I thought of all the individual stories of triumph that happened that weekend. Every story was unique. Every story was one of perseverance, endurance, and pushing personal limits. All I could ask myself was what’s next?

Update

Some good news from my doc today! The MRI revealed some tearing of my left medial gastroc and soleus, and some apparent trauma to the fibula and tibia (apparently they can tell by density of marrow), but NO fractures! Guess I rolled it good!

I haven't been running for just over a week now, and the rest has done some good, but there is some residual pain in my ankle and calf. Doc said I should really focus on warming up and stretching, and just use good judgement (guess he forgot who he was talking to).

Clearly, Seneca Creek is out of the picture for me. Shame cos it's a beautiful race. But jumping into a 50K might be a bit much right now...nevermind the fact that we just got a good heaping of snow (which will probably turn to ice and mud on race day). Just some slow and steady recovery runs for now...throttle back and steer the rudder amidships. Umstead is dead ahead.

Oh, and the longboard came yesterday! I took it out for about 15 minutes last night, and I could actually see myself eventually getting the hang of the LDP concept. Decent, funky workout.

Catching up...again

Nothing too exciting to report over the last few months. I survived 12 weeks of sustained low heart rate training, and the results were satisfactory. I'm sure if I were to stick it out longer it would have paid off. But...I'm lacking in patience, and my ego just couldn't handle the fact that EVERYONE in the world would pass me. Children, old ladies on walkers, arthropods... Especially on longer runs. Despite an equivalent amount of time on my feet, I still couldn't get my mind around the fact that I wasn't racking up the mileage I felt I should. So finally, I just "ramped it up". Voila.

January to mid February was filled with 50-60 mile weeks, mostly. However, early one Sunday morning as I was walking towards the door at 3:00 am, I felt a trickle of water running down my leg...only to discover that my Camelbak was leaking. Rather than get creative, I threw in the towel and crawled back in bed.

My Umstead training highlight came on the evening of February 13 (yeah, right). I've been long overdue for a good LONG run, and I have very little experience running from dusk through the night (apart from the tremendous pain I was in at Umstead last year, this was a huge hurdle for me to deal with). So at 6:00 pm, I packed 2 full waterbottles in my backpack, sported 2 handhelds and a headlamp, kissed my wife and kids, and headed from my house in Easton towards Tilghman Island.

Before reaching the end of the street, speedy Mike Bickford met me with his dog and joined me for the first 1/4 mile into town. A very welcome surprise as I hadn't seen Mike all winter. By the time we hit the real "downtown" area, Mike's dog was a bit more interested in watering the shrubs, so we parted ways.

Two blocks later I was met by Lori Callahan, a fellow Rise Up Runner who offered to run the first 10 miles with me out to St. Michaels (where she had already left her car). Despite the heavy traffic out on Route 33, and sometimes narrow shoulders, we clipped off the mileage almost effortlessly. My left (bad) leg cramped up on me early in the run (typical of what I've been dealing with for a while), but after a few miles it felt limber again. We ran a very steady 5 mph pace (setting the world on fire), which I hoped to maintain through the night in order to be home before dawn. Conversation flowed as easily as the pace, as we swapped stories about language "faux pas), and the first two hours flew by. As we approached Perry Cabin, Lori split off and headed back for her car.

It was just past 8:00 pm, and I was going into "cell hell", so I took a moment to call my wife and let her know of my bearings. It was dark now, the kids were in bed, and despite the adrenaline I felt like I should have been there too. Oy, time to move on. It was getting slightly cooler, so I put a hat on my head and moved on.

The next solo leg (about 7 miles) out to Wittman were actually more pleasant than I thought they would have been. Having passed through St. Michaels, the traffic was now more sparse and the wind was almost perfectly calm. I maintained a very steady stride, stopping once to change out my water bottles. The variation in scenery was a welcome change to my typical early AM runs down Oxford Road. Rather than running past nothing but open farm fields, I was running down roads that were wooded on both sides--the trees seemed to frame the night sky perfectly as the sky seemed darker and the stars brighter. Owls hooted in the trees almost continually. And once I approached the Bayshore area, the moon shone down on the water and the lights of Kent Island sparkled against the starry background. Certainly stunning, but also a reminder that it was time for me to be under-covers in my nice warm bed.

Mike Keene is a prince among men. A fellow Rise Up Runner and veteran of the JFK 50 mile run (same year I ran it and broke my damned leg), Mike not only Volunteered to meet me at some stretch around Wittman/Tilghman after 11:00 pm AND left his truck out on the side of the road to serve as a water/food stop. Now tired and hungry, I got a bit of a second wind when I spotted his Dodge out by Pot Pie Road. I was thrilled to find a thermos of HOT chicken noodle soup, banana bread, water and gatorade. I stopped, snacked, and filled water bottles for every bit of 15 minutes before heading back out on the road.

The next leg (about 7 miles) to Tilghman seemed fairly long. I now had a "full tank", and felt re-energized, but the road out through Sherwood seemed very repetitive. It wasn't long before I found myself talking out loud, trying to take inventory of myself, my supplies and my surroundings, as well as keep myself entertained. I maintained my steady pace, and eventually the drawbridge at Knapp's Narrows was in view. Fortunately, Rise Up Runner PooBah Mike Valliant also called to check in on me (he was planning on meeting me later in the AM on the home stretch). It was nearing 10:30 ish, and I was tired, and I think I told him I was considering turning around at the drawbridge. Talking to another human woke me up a bit, and when I hit the drawbridge I kept going.

My original plan was to cross the bridge at Knapp's Narrows, run to the end of Tilghman Island (or at least the Bar Neck turn off--25 miles from home). With only a couple miles to go to the half way point, I figured I might as well just push on. However, I didn't give the "Sheep Boot" factor enough consideration in my planning. Having lived here in excess of 10 years, and having spent a considerable amount of my employ in construction, I'm pretty familiar with "how the locals operate"...even on Tilghman. What I failed to consider, was how pissed off and tired I would be after running for 5 hours (and after getting up at 4:30 am and putting in a full day at work). This resulted in a complete lack of patience for the (not one but) 2 good ol' boys who decided to try and run me off the road as soon as I got on the island. And by the time I hit the school, I was greeted by a not so friendly GROUP of unleashed dogs who wanted to play chase. Needless to say, I figured 24 miles was good enough and I high tailed it outta there!

Back in the "no man's land" of Sherwood, Mike Keene and his wife found me on the homeward leg of my journey. His wife let him out, mentioned something to the extent of how crazy we were, and headed home. My sprint back over the drawbridge sucked quite a bit of energy from me, and a friendly face was just what I needed. Mike helped me to pick the pace up a tad (if he can believe it....), and the conversation helped me to snap back to life. Then, my Friday the 13th misfortune hit me....just past midnight as we were running along I tripped over a piece of tire debris in the road. I almost took a "half gainer" onto my face, but somehow righted myself and rolled (inverted) my ankle in the process...SNAP! Mike was on top of things and helped steady me. We walked it off for a few minutes...it didn't feel terribly swollen, but it did hurt somewhat. The more we walked, the better (or more numb) it felt, and we eventually worked up to a decent pace again.

Our run together clipped by quickly, and we were back at his truck before we knew it. We stopped, filled up on the remaining chicken soup, banana bread, water and gatorade, and took off. Mike followed me out for about another 1/2 mile before turning around for home. Before turning around, he mentioned that it was about a 10K back to St. Michaels, so I was still on schedule for a 10 hour trip. I took a moment to fish an "emergency" 800 mg. motrin, and promptly flushed it down with a few good swigs of water. I figured that with all the food in my stomach, this was the best time to be poppin pills!

The motrin helped ease my ankle pain, but exhaustion quickly started to set in. Within 15 minutes after Keene's departure, I was awakened by the feel of turf under my feet as I was running off the road! Whoa! I've found myself "sleep-running" before, but I usually "snap out of it" when I feel the change in the road angle. This time, I must have ran a good 100 feet or so with my eye's shut! Unfortunately, the "jolt" of this little startle wasn't good enough to wake me up, as I experienced the exact same thing just passing Bozman-Neavitt road. This time, I popped a chocolate-mint gu gel for a much needed shot of energy.

Still surprisingly close to schedule, I arrived in St. Michaels (again) just after 2:00 am. I was surprised to see so many drunks staggering out of Carpenter Street at that hour, but I think they were even more surprised to see me shuffling down the sidewalk! It was a good-hearted drunk crowd, as a couple of them tried running with me--it really was pretty funny!

After passing through "downtown", I knew it wouldn't be long before I would hear from or see Mike Valliant. Landy Cook (another fellow RUR dude) also mentioned meeting us around 3:00 am at the pincushion. The stretch back to Oak Creek bridge was a killer. My ankle was starting to feel tight and sore, and I also felt a pretty hearty blister developing on my big toe of the same injured foot. Oddly, the temperature seemed to drop considerably on the other side of Oak Creek Bridge, and I really didn't want to stop and tend to blister repair at this point in the game. My stride became a bit more labored because of the pain, and by the time I crossed the bridge I decided to do a 10/2 run/walk combination.

Just shy of the MEBA entrance, I got my 3:00 am wake up call from Mike Valliant. He informed me that he and Landy would meet me on their longboard skateboards somewhere on 33 on the way back to Easton. I was already running a good 20 minutes behind "schedule", so this motivated me to pick the pace up a bit. I continued the run/walk strategy, and the next couple of miles were actually fairly easy. Finally, somewhere in front of Town and Country liquors, I saw a couple of looming LED's swerving in the distance. They were moving much faster than I was, and as they approached I was totally impressed with their longboarding abilities! Talk about a super-cool core workout!

Landy and Mike continued longboarding as I tried to maintain something of a pace for a few minutes. It was great to see them, awesome to get my first upclose look at their longboarding prowess, and even better to realize that I was now just a couple of miles away from home! Landy and Mike decided to take on the vast, empty parking lot at Target and I continued on straight...across the bypass, and up Bay Street. We all crossed paths again on Bay Street, where I got to see the guys "pump" uphill on their boards...TOO COOL!

The next mile home was just a blur. I was beyond tired, and my foot was throbbing. When I hit the front door, I went directly to the shower, then threw all of my clothes into the washer, and headed straight for bed. Of course I was up 3 hours later, but I did catch another nap later in the day.

So, was it worth it? Absolutely! First--the exhaustion factor of running from dusk on through the night is huge one for me, and this was a good opportunity to experience it and learn how to deal with it. Second--this experience speaks volumes about our running group, "Rise Up Runners"...an unbelievably great group of people and I wish I could spend more time running with them. Third--totally got hooked on the longboarding thing (my first long distance pumping board is due to arrive on Monday!).

The crappy part....the ankle. Having dealt with a cranky ankle now for some time, I've learned my lessons and have tried to take it easy and gauge my pain. Finally, on Weds (2/25) I took it seriously and was able to sneak in to my Sports Medicine Doc for his diagnosis. He believes that while the ankle appears to be OK, I probably have some level of tearing in my soleus. We've scheduled an MRI for Tuesday 3/3, which will determine just how ugly things are.

Post Turkey Trail Run...Motts Run Reservoir

I love finding new places to run. Most of us rack up significant mileage on the same path, week after week. Don't get me wrong--I often find enjoyment in watching the seasons change along the same stretches of road and trail. But it's nice to break away every once in a while and get a look at some new scenery.

While visiting with the in-laws in Fredericksburg, VA over Thanksgiving, I was able to slip out for a couple of hours to explore the trails at Motts Run Reservoir--something I have been longing to do for a few years now.

The trailhead is only about a mile from their house, but the main road has NO shoulder, so I drove to a pull off and left the car. The weather was overcast and in the mid-40's with no breeze...pleasant once I got moving. My first stretch of trail was along the "Laurel Trail", aptly named for the rivers of laurel growing wild on the hillsides down to the reservoir. Trail conditions were fairly decent--lots of leaves, and some potential ankle twisters, with a fast descent to the lake. Arriving at the bottom, I followed a very scenic lakeside trail towards the nature center (which is closed during the winter). Narrow single track, with the occasional snag and wet patch, but a couple of nice wooden bridges to help get around the twists and turns of the lake.

Reaching the nature center, I found another marked trail which was a 1.5 mile loop (lollipop style). The trail was very well blazed, with lots of fun rolling terrain. The leaves were really thick, so I had to be cautious of what was underfoot. But then again, I was running with my heart rate in mind so I had to go slow anyhow. Once I reached the mid-point of the lollipop, I checked my watch and realized that I had only been out for about 20 minutes. There weren't too many marked trails left to follow, so I did what any dumb trail runner would do--blaze my own path. As long as I kept the pond to my right, I knew I wouldn't get lost. That's where the fun began.

The perimeter of the lake was much hillier than I expected. Tons of STEEP climbs and descents. Some were almost sheer earthen cliffs which were necessitated climbing (and later sliding down). The entire floor of the woods was blanketed with a good foot of leaves. And it seemed that at the crest of every hill I would find some new undulation of the lake stretching out before me. Dense patches of laurel, greenbriers and difficult footings helped make this adventure more of a spirited hike than a trail run, but MAN was it fun, and oftentimes a real challenge to keep my heart rate low.

I was able to get around the entire perimeter in about 1.5 hours. If I had to guess, I'd assume I covered about 6.0-6.5 miles altogether. Not exactly a fast course, but certainly a welcome change of pace.

5K Turkey Trot, Fredericksburg VA

This year I was particularly thankful to have the opportunity to run at the Fredericksburg VA Turkey Trot 5K. Last year I had to forgo the race due to a broken fibula and had to spend the day indoors, hobbling around on crutches. This was my third time running, and I was particularly impressed with the size of the crowd of runners. The first year I ran this hilly little course there were around 700-800 participants. The following year it grew to almost 1000. Skipped 2007, and now there were over 1800 runners! On top of that they have a kids’ fun run, which brings in a good crowd. Amazing.

The weather this year was perfect. Crystal clear skies, and temps. in the upper 30’s with no wind. A tad chilly, but I found myself slightly overdressed early on. I arrived around 8:00 am, picked up my race packet and chip, walked back to the car to store the swag, and then took a leisurely stroll around some of the less crowded streets. I kept my heart rate in the 130’s for about 20 minutes, and then found my way to the start line with about 5 minutes to spare. Since the crowd was SO large, I made my way to the front and found a good spot about 20 feet back from the start. Good move considering that in years past, with a much smaller crowd, I’ve found myself having to meander/hurdle past TONS of people.

The starting shot went off promptly at 9:05 and I spent the first 5 minutes passing people and settling into a groove. The first mile is almost all downhill and deceptive. I tried to refrain from powering through the downhill section and conserve energy—a good strategy since many of the folks who passed me early on fell far behind on the last mile. Just after the half-way point, the course loops back onto itself and I had the opportunity to see the front runners fly past (first place men finished somewhere around 14 minutes…). I passed the water stop and watched several runners do the “slip and slide” over the spent cups strewn over the pavement, and then focused on a steady pace uphill through a small neighborhood. My heart rate monitor was on (just for the fun of it), and I was approaching my max when I reached the peak. I maintained my pace on the downhill, trying to let gravity do the work and get my heart rate down. The final mile is a bear. Since the course is out and back, you’ve gotta climb the hill that everyone sprinted down at the start. I tried my best to power into it, but as my heart rate soon climbed to 200 (yeah, I know, pathetic) I knew I had to back off. Even as I slowed down, I was amazed to see so many runners fall back on this ¼ mile climb. It’s a deceptive little beast. At the top, I was huffin’ and puffin’ but I knew the finish was really close. There’s a little jog in the course, where you end up running parallel to the “out” portion. It involves another little speedbump, and then a sweet little downhill around the corner to the finish. Done in 24:15. Not bad considering I’ve had ZERO speedwork in the last 4 weeks and my shoes were on their last mile. And kinda rare for me to actually finish in the top third of anything. Final stats were 326/1816 overall, 254/874 all men, and 17/70 in men 17/70. Cool deal.