Finally, Inidana

I can't remember exactly when I made the goal, but I want to run an ultra in each of the 50 states, plus D.C. In some cases I'll settle for a marathon, but I'd rather run an ultra. While I'm living in Illinois I'd like to take care of most of the Midwest since travel is now much easier and cheaper than it will be after we move.

I live about 40 miles from the Indiana border, so next to Illinois one would think this would be the easiest state. For some reason, tho, it has taken me 2 1/2 years of running ultras to finally get this state done. And it wasn't easy: I had to run 50Ks on two consecutive weekends. Well, that or choose between Indiana and Iowa, both states where ultras are hard to come by.

My plan was to run strong at Hawkeye in IA and just take HUFF as it came. If you read my last post, you know "strong" is not a good description of my run at Hawkeye. So I wasn't sure how HUFF was going to play out. I just knew I'd take it easy.

The trails at HUFF were completely covered in snow. For scenery this gave us a beautiful blanket of white covering the forest. As a running surface snow tends to suck out energy as every attempt to push forward results in some reverse motion. In other words, the footing was less than firm. Since the snow was packed down, tho, it still was very runnable. The weather was also good. At the start the temps were in the single digits, with wind chills below 0 F. The sun was shining as it continued to do all day, and temps rose into the 20s before most of us finished.

As it turned out, I never really faced battles at HUFF like I'd faced at Hawkeye. I never questioned a finish (just occasionally begged for it to come soon). I did cramp in one spot in one quad, but not until late in the race, and I realized I was favoring that leg.

So 8 states down. That's California, Massachusetts, and a few in the Midwest:

42 to go. The plan for this spring is to knock-off Minnesota, Missouri, and Michigan.

Report on the Hawkeye 50K, a race where you can drop your pants

Before I go into my race report let me say that Tim did an awesome job of directing the inaugural Hawkeye 25/50K.  The trail was so well-marked that there was never a question whether you were on course.  Tons of email updates about trail conditions, weather, providing maps and directions all reduced the worry and uncertainty leading up to race day.  He rounded up some great volunteers, too.  They endured some pretty nasty weather and managed to stay upbeat, which was contagious to us runners.

The weather conditions at the start were an off-and-on drizzle with temps in the low-30s.  Pretty nice for mid-December in the Midwest.  That would change.  Throughout the race the temps steadily decreased and the rain became more on than off and heavier and gradually turned to sleet and finally snow.

The first lap I headed out near the front of the pack at what felt like a comfortable pace.  I was loaded up with Perpetuem solids and GU chomps and I quickly realized exactly why Race-Ready shorts have drawstrings in addition to the elastic.  I guess the solids added more weight than my usual gels, or I've always just tied my shorts in the past.  Whatever: they were comin down.  In the first 100 yards I was already making wardrobe adjustments, trying to tie my shorts and run the single-track trail that started each loop.

We quickly left the trail for a few miles of road running.  This is where I felt strongest.   Most of my training since June has been on roads around town since thesis deadlines and a teaching assignment have made driving to the trails harder to justify -- not to mention that my daughter is now becoming a little person and I like spending time with her and my wife.  Running 10+ hrs per week I can justify, but driving 1-2 hrs for most of those runs has really started to seem like a burden.

So I haven't really run many hills since June.  This would come back to haunt me...

We left the roads for a crushed gravel trail.  This was probably my favorite portion of the race.  The trail was very well-maintained and pretty flat, with a few gentle ups and downs.  We ran right along the lake with a lot of tree cover.  Coming off the roads into the trees, it starts to feel a bit warmer as the trees block the wind.  Here I really began doubting my choice of wearing long pants over my shorts.  They'd seemed warm even along the windy road.  I'd been reassuring myself that it would be getting colder, but my legs were really feeling warm.  I first tried bunching them up around my quads.  After they fell back down a few times I just stopped and took em off.  That's when I realized my bib was pinned to my pants.  sigh...  run and think.  Aha!  I rolled my pants up so that the bib showed and started planning a quick way to stop to secure them into the straps on my Nathan hydration pack.  Damn this pack is handy!  (I've fastened jackets and even shoes in it.)

I saw a lady cheering for passing runners and stopped to ask her to secure the pants for me.  Perfect.  Problem solved... until the pants fell out of the straps.  I realized they were missing at the next check point when they asked me for my bib # and I reached behind me to point to it.  Well, never trust a cheerleader with your pants, I guess.  OK, it was my fault, not hers.  That just sounded like a funny thing to say.

Needless to say I was pretty bummed out.  Not only did I lose my $80 pants that have gotten me thru so many midwestern winters, but I lost my bib #, which could (theoretically) mean a DQ.  I went back an forth with that scenario for a few miles.  "Crap!  I won't even be counted as a finisher!"  "Nah, Tim's a good guy.  He won't DQ me for losing my bib."  I was not in a good place mentally.

After crossing a spillway for the lake we left the crushed gravel path for the single-track trail that makes up the last third of the loop.  Adrenaline was pushing me a bit faster than I should have been moving at this point.  I felt physically strong as I tried to put the lost pants and bib out of my mind.  At first the trails seemed easy and I thought that I'd get away with all that missed training.  Then the cramps started coming.  The insides of my quads started seizing up.  Oh, boy.  I wasn't even half way done.

Then some good news came.  As I came back to the start/finish I started to explain my bib situation to the volunteers, and they replied "oh, are you #99?" pointing to a black pile on top of a drum in front of the social center.  Awesome!  I asked whether I needed to refasten my bib and they just waved me on.

After an alright 2:03 first loop I was back out for a second.  By now I was getting pretty drenched.  Everything I was carrying -- hats, gloves, and food -- started feeling heavy.  I decided for the first time to walk a little and readjust my load.  I also made it a point to start eating more than I had been.  I'd been eating the solids and chomps fairly continuously, but not enough of them, as I knew I should've gone thru half of my supply at that point.  I also wondered how the cramps would play out over the remainder of the race.

By the time we hit the roads I felt ready to make a good guess: not well.  My legs just kept feeling worse and I contrasted how I felt then with how I felt the first lap at this point.  Every minute or so a car drove by and blew a spray at me that was just a little heavier than the now continuous rain.  The headlights were menacing.  I could see a runner in front of me in the distance, not too far, but I didn't have the legs to chase her.

Finally we left the roads for the gravel trail, which was now a wet, muddy mess.  Not that it mattered: my shoes were soaked.  I could no longer see the runner directly in front of me except when the trail curved just right, but that didn't matter either: I was catching no one.  The rain was now becoming freezing rain; I was getting cold.  I was also slowing down as new cramps added to the old ones.  Each time I tried to pick up the pace a muscle would shoot pain at me and seize up.  I settled into a shuffle, which made it harder to stay warm.  I found, tho, that as long as I kept moving I kept warm enough.

Shortly after starting the second loop I had started wondering why I was doing these races, spending money and time away from my family to put myself through stuff like this and never seem to win.  Strangely, as the pain and weather both got worse I started to understand.  I don't know if I can describe it, but it's for the types of battles I was facing then.  I wondered whether I would finish, but I kept moving.  I wondered how much more pain I could take, how much colder it could get before I had to quit.  But I knew that for now I could keep going, so I did.

When I hit the single track I realized that the only shuffle I could manage was slower than my walk, so I settled into walking the rest of the course.  I ate more Perpetuem solids, which continued to settle pretty well, tho the ones I carried made an annoying "clickety clack" sound as they bounced inside their plastic container with every step I took.

With about 3 miles to go, the course passes the start/finish, so I ducked into the social center to warm up and change into a dry jacket.  I finally talked myself into going back out to finish the thing.  I was amazed at how good I felt -- except for my legs.  It was clear that I was being punished for all my missed trail runs.  I was able to run slowly again, but when I made a few feeble attempts at second gear, I received a lashing by the god of proper training.

By now the rain had turned to snow, and with a dry jacket I was no longer feeling cold and drenched to the bone.  I enjoyed watching the woods turn white as I finished what was -- to date -- my toughest 50K, not because of the course and not entirely because of the weather.  I guess life can present other obstacles.

Oh, yeah, my time was 5:01, to date my slowest time for the 50K distance.

Finally a 100M (and finally a race report)

I know this race report's pretty late, but I've had lots of other stuff happening lately.  Now that we're moved in to our new place and the puppy and toddler are asleep I'll steal a few minutes from my thesis writing to finish up this race report.

I'd been carrying a vendetta for the 100-mile distance, and specifically for KM100, since my attempt at KM100 last year ended at mile 77 with knee problems.  Over the past year I analyzed my mistakes, attempted another 100M (Ozark), gained another DNF, analyzed more mistakes, and returned with tail between legs to KM100 this year.  I was optimistic but scared, knowing both that I'd learned from mistakes and that it was still going to be really hard.

This year we had some crazy weather in the southern Kettle Moraine of Wisconsin.  This time it was crazy more like Jack Nicholson in "The Shining" than like your favorite hippie aunt (cf. post on Ice Age 50M).  Of the 155 starters in the 100 miler, only 51 finished.  A look through past results shows that the winning time this year (19:54:48) was the slowest ever by a large margin.  That's said not to downplay any other year's conditions.  I'm glad I didn't run it during the tornadoes of 2008.



At the 6am start the weather was decent: dry and cool, tho not really cool enough, especially for 6am.  It quickly warmed up and by the time I reached my first drop bin 15 miles in at Emma Carlin sweat was already starting to drip from the visor of my hat.  Here I saw friends Geoff and Paige, who gave me some encouraging words as I passed through.  It always helps to see friends at the aid stations.

My drop bins all had gels and thermoses with a drink that I'd made to serve as a liquid meal.  My fueling plan was to take a gel about every 30 minutes and to drink about a pint of the drink at each drop.  The drink had been tested at Ice Age to settle pretty well.  I'll post the recipe, but it's just oat milk, Jarrow brand fermented soy, and coconut milk.  It settled pretty well at KM.

Past Emma C. is a series of prairies where runners are completely exposed to the elements.  Whatever the weather is, here you feel it the most.  I was just thinking about getting this part behind me, at least so I'd only have to do it one more time (on the return trip).  The return trip was the most brutal, tho.  The prairies are positioned (between miles 36 and 47) so that everybody has to run them in the afternoon, the hottest time of the day.  I hit them in mid-afternoon, and I was lucky to not get roasted by the sun as it hid behind haze and clouds.  Instead I got steamed in the warm, humid air.

Another difficulty about this section is that it presents the longest distance between manned aid stations.  Hwy 67 sits at mile 39 as an oasis in the middle of the prairie.  Otherwise there are only a couple of tables with water jugs for 11 miles.  As I came into Hwy 67 on the return trip it was especially uplifting for me as I heard the familiar "bufalooo," and I realized that my crew and pacer had arrived.  For the next 23 miles Jen and Brian would be meeting me at aid stations to help me refuel and move along (when temptation is to sit).  At the Nordic aid station (mile 62) Brian would join me for the remainder of the distance and Jen would continue crewing.

I left Hwy 67 with a refreshed attitude, which is what I needed to endure the 8 miles of prairie ahead.  As I traversed the prairies the haze gradually turned to rain and the temps started to feel cooler.  At Emma C. I stopped to refuel and was actually shivering by the time I was ready to head out again.  Crazy.  I'll take rain over heat, tho (or so I thought...)

One of my favorite sections is between Emma C. and Bluff Rd. (mi. 55) and with the now cooler temps I felt like the rain had given me my legs back.  I picked up the pace a bit, enough to miss my crew at Bluff Rd. since they were expecting me about a half-hour later than I was.  I knew I'd see them at Nordic, tho.

Bluff Rd. marks the junction of the Ice Age and Nordic trails.  Outbound runners leave the Nordic and enter the Ice Age and inbound do the reverse.  By the time I reached Bluff Rd. the rain had really picked up.  The Nordic trail is actually a XC skiing trail, so it's wider and rolling.  Trees catch less of the rain and the low spots turn to small lakes.  There's about 7.5 miles of this between Bluff and the Nordic aid station (also the start/finish).

I've heard that the thought occurs to every runner in a 100-miler, and you just have to tell yourself that quitting is not an option.  The first time the thought of quitting occurred to me was a couple miles before reaching Nordic.  At the Nordic aid station runners have a choice: stop and take a 100K finish or go back out and run another 38 miles.  The temptation is always great to stop, and this year it was really hard to go back out.  By this time it was really pouring and it was getting cold.  As the rain soaks you and the trail gets soggy it's hard to move fast enough to generate much heat.  Many runners dropped here.  Of the 155 starters, 121 made it to Nordic, and 61 decided to go back out.  I was one of those 61, but I certainly had thoughts of joining the other 60.  One thing that made this low point much easier was having a pacer waiting for me.  He'd driven 4 hours to run 38 miles with me; I knew I couldn't just tell him "sorry, I don't want to."  I had to go back out.  There was no other option.

At the aid station I took my drop bin into the clubhouse, sat down, and changed shoes.  It was dry and warm and I lingered too long, but it felt good.  Jen lent me a poncho and extra shirt and I headed back out with Brian.  We walked a lot, but at least we were moving.  At around 10 or 11 the rain finally stopped and the night became really nice!  We left our ponchos and extra shirts with Jen at Bluff.

The second out & back course is pretty varied, with both the easiest and the hardest sections of the course, and pretty much everything in between.  We basically ran the flat non-technical sections and walked the rest.  This added up to lots of walking.  I had been conservative all day since I knew that rocks and downhills had previously been my undoing.  I was extra cautious at night when I couldn't see the obstacles as well.  Brian was very patient, but I gave him a chance to run at the end. :)


Hwy 67 is the only drop location on the second out & back, but runners see it twice.  I probably lingered too long there both times, but it felt good to sit and chat with volunteers and other runners.  A friend Kobby was there volunteering, and Jen was there to encourage us each time  We would also see her at the Rice Lake turnaround.

Not too long after we passed Hwy 67 the second time we started noticing it getting lighter.  By the time we reached Duffin Rd. (mi 90) the headlamps were unnecessary.  This is also where we run through pine groves and some of the nicest trails of the course.  My conservative pace had left me with energy to spare and with only 10 miles left and improved visibility, who needs to be conservative?  I looked at my watch and wondered whether I could make sub-25.  I started picking up the pace through the pine groves and noticed that Brian was gradually getting further behind.  Oh well; he knows the way home.

My momentum served me well as I came out of the pines and was able to keep moving, feeling strong.  I surprised even myself to find that I could run uphill.  I ran by the Bluff aid station, waving and thanking Jennifer and the other volunteers.  I passed a few bewildered people who had by now been reduced to a walk.  I felt good.  One guy asked "how are you still running?"

As the Nordic hills kept coming, I started realizing that sub-25 wasn't gonna happen.  Sub-25:30?  Finally I crossed the finish line in 25:22:52.

an all-night run becomes a 10-miler

Last night I had planned to run all night.  The plan was to get to a local nature preserve (Forest Glen) before they close the gates (8pm) and stay all night until they open them (8am).  They allow camping, so I would "camp."  Actually, I would try to run all night, but as a fall back I would bring my camping gear and crash if I needed to stop.  I did, after all, just run the Ice Age 50M last weekend.

I had to be at the ranger's station before 7 to register and be allowed to stay overnight.  As I was preparing to leave my daughter crawled into my arms and put her head on my shoulder.  I wasn't leaving anytime soon.  Every time I made for the door she started saying "no, no, no" with her arms outstretched, as if asking for a hug.  I'd pick her up and she'd put her head on my shoulder.  Our girl knew I was planning to be gone for a while and she wasn't having it.

Plan B: After she goes to bed I'll leave.  It'll be too late for Forest Glen (they'll be closed), so I'll just run all night at Clinton Lake, another great spot for trail running.  CL has no gates, so I'd get to leave when I wanted.  Well, I was kind of looking forward to the whole camping part as extra motivation to stay on my feet, since I'd be stuck at the park anyway.  Oh well, family's first.

I finally got to the trails at a little after 10pm.  The trail at CL is just a 10-mile loop around part of the lake.  As I descended the first of many short hills I noticed that my knees were still a little tender from last weekend.  I'd take it easy on the downs.  A few miles in I began to wonder where my groove was.  Usually it takes a couple miles to warm up (sometimes more than other times) but I just wasn't feeling it.  My hips were still tight from last weekend, too.  My body seemed to be sending the message "you don't need this long run; what you really need is to let me recover."  So I finished the loop and went home to a warm bed.

Ice Age 50M race report

After signing up for Kettle Moraine 100M this year, I decided to run the Ice Age 50M as a training run.  The IA50 covers most of the trails of the KM100 and the timing is about right with IA50 four weeks before KM100.  It also covers the rockiest part.  Since rocks tend to be a weakness of mine, it's good to get a little training on rocky trails in before the big race.

The weather was crazy for us this year, tho crazy like that deadhead aunt you really like, not crazy like a serial killer.  Temps were in the 40s most the day with plenty of wind and clouds.  Occasionally you'd get out of the trees and feel the wind; sometimes the sun would peek out and you'd warm up and consider pitching your jacket.  I finally pitched mine at the 37M drop point, after which it got cold again and started to hail, then drizzle rain.  Crazy.

The only taper I had before the IA50 was that I hadn't run since Tuesday, when I did 10 miles.  Taking a few days off was an afterthought when the miles started feeling like they were piling up and I worried whether I'd be able to finish on Saturday.  I started out at what felt like a conservative pace and just tried to take it easy for most of the race.  At about the half way point I noticed I was roughly on pace for a 9hr finish.  Well, that really means nothing with 25 miles to go, so I blocked it out for a while.  When I hit the 40M turnaround I noticed I was still on a 9hr pace.  That's when I decided it was ok to start pushing a little.  Maybe I could PR (go sub 8:50), but it would be close.

Throughout most of the race I felt pretty good.  Yeah, there were rough spots, as always, but I was surprised at how much strength I felt I had when I needed it.

With just about 4 miles to go my left knee started to give me some serious pain and actually made the last 2 miles pretty excruciating.  I think I stressed my calf on the uneasy footing of the rocky downhills and that led to the knee pain.  I'll be working on strengthening and balance in that leg.  It was a little of a bummer finishing that way and seeing the PR slip away, especially since the last 2 miles at IA are so nice for a strong finish, but I did manage a sub-9 by a little over 3 minutes.  I guess my splits must have been close to even.

During the race I experimented with a drink that I made to replace Ensure.  I used to drink Ensure during races but it sits too heavy in my belly.  I chugged 14 oz of the drink at miles 17, 26, and 37, and each time I jogged out of the aid station feeling fine.  Here's the recipe:

cooked oatmeal: 3 cups oats + 6 cups water
12 cups water
1 cup Jarrow brand Soy Essence
1 can coconut milk
about 1/2 cup agave nectar

Mix the oatmeal and water and blend in an electric blender.  Strain through cheesecloth or a fine colander.  Wisk Soy Essence into strained oatmeal (oat milk).  Stir in coconut milk and agave nectar.

I filled my bottles about half full with ice before pouring in the drink.  It didn't really accomplish anything except watering it down a little more, which was good.  I'm thinking that the best way to do this next time is to mix some water into the Soy before adding it.  Also, this makes over a gallon, which is a lot.  Hopefully reducing the oats and/or soy without reducing the coconut milk won't cause any problems.  Maybe I'll try that this weekend.

Pacing my wife at the Illinois marathon -- ninja style

This year my wife wanted to run the Illinois marathon, which runs through the towns of Champaign and Urbana.  Since we currently live in Champaign, this would be a logistical breeze.   Since she wasn't sure she'd get the training in by May 1 (the day of the race), I decided to add some motivation and offer to run it with her.  This would be the first race we'd ever run together since our paces are about 4 to 5 min/mi different.

As we sipped our coffee before heading to the start, the temperature was already pretty warm (60s) with humidity (80s). Naturally the temps rose; the humidity dropped a little.  I guess it really got so some people.  As we got into the late stages of the run we started seeing the carnage along the sides of the road -- people dropping out left and right.  After the race I heard about a lot of friends who missed their goals, they felt because of the heat.  I can honestly say that the heat never really bothered me, but I was running 4 to 5 min/mile slower than my usual marathon pace.

Our goal was sub-5 hours.  We headed out at a steady 11:10/mile pace and pretty much maintained that the whole race, with a short stop at mile 10, a short walk at mile 23, and a few very short walks through aid stations.  My wife is a human metronome.  I wish I could hold a steady pace like that.  Starting early I made sure Jenn kept her electrolytes in balance and stayed hydrated.  I made her take salt tabs every hour at first until she started drinking Gatorade, when we eased the tab intake a little.

So I got my first real look at a back-of-the-pack perspective.  I have to say, it wasn't really all that different: people soldiering through the miles, putting one foot in front of the other, aiming for the finish line.  That's the same.  The difference: it took us longer to get to the finish.

The "ninja style" part:

My first road marathon in Vibrams, and the farthest I've run on roads in them.  My feet were as sore as they should have been after 26.2 miles of pavement, which is not too sore to run 15 miles of trails the following day in a pair of KSO Treks.

Nutrition on the run

During training for Clinton Lake 30M I had practically stopped taking calories during my runs with the goal of training my body to conserve glycogen and to get used to burning body fat.  Since the race I've been trying to find a meal-on-the-run for ultras of at least 50M.  In the past I've used Ensure shakes, but they always sit heavy in my gut for a while, which is pretty unpleasant.  So I hit the kitchen.

I came up with a bar that so far has tested well.  I ate a bar before each of my runs last weekend (Fri., Sat., and Sun.) and also during my run on Sat. and Sun.  I actually felt like I hadn't eaten anything, which means that they must digest pretty well.  Also, it means that there's no energy spike.  There's more testing to do -- particularly after several hours of running.  I need to see whether I can digest them when my system is really rejecting food, and to see whether they satisfy me when I'm very hungry.

I'm reluctant to post the recipe just yet because of the need for more testing.  I also don't know the nutritional profile.  So stay tuned...