8 More Days

You would think I would be used to the madness by now, but new challenges mean new things to obsess over during a taper.

The Georgia Jewel is a familiar distance for me but I will be facing my first race with any kind of elevation gain.  So, guess what is occupying my mind.

Take a look.

It’s not much compared to the crown jewels of ultra running, but for this beach runner it is a significant step up in difficulty.  I’m estimating that I will climb a cumulative 9000 feet.  By comparison the most I ever climbed during a single run in training, running back and forth over the tallest bridge I could find, was just over 1000 feet over a distance of about 10 miles.

At least the weather looks like it is cooperating.  The extended forecast shows partly cloudy skies with a high of 78 and a low of 54.  That's more than 10 degrees cooler than my training conditions.

Just take it one step at a time and when all else fails - Suck it up Buttercup!

This is going to be interesting.

"Getting Chicked"

If you are unfamiliar with the term "getting chicked" check out this post on iRunFar.

What do you think? Is the term an insult or an expression of respect and friendly rivalry?  Is it praise of woman’s superior performance in comparison to her male peers or maybe a passive aggressive implication that she has surprisingly risen above her gender’s inherent physical inferiority?

By weird coincidence I have come across this debate several times in the past week, both in reading and in conversation.

I know in my case there are a number of women that I run with who are usually just a little bit faster than me.  With age group awards often just out of my reach and PR’s getting more and more difficult to achieve, often one of my goals is sometimes simply to avoid “getting chicked” by these female friends and rivals.  If I succeed I consider it a huge accomplishment in deference to their abilities but when they do "chick" me I find it incredibly motivating to try harder next time.

So let me know your opinion.  "Getting Chicked" – Yay or Nay? Pro or Con? Love it or Hate it?

Hill Repeats

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.
When awesome ascent meets feet,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit to his full height.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot.
On, on, you noblest runners.

Shakespeare is rolling over in his grave.

Chasing the Dragon

Tonight’s run should put me over 180 miles for May which puts it in my top five best months.  I only missed three days and averaged about 5.8 miles per day.  So why can’t I shake this feeling that I’m slacking off? 

Actually I know why.  No long runs.  I only had one true long run all month and only three runs in excess of ten miles.  Five milers just don’t give me that fix I need anymore.

The phrase “chasing the dragon” came to mind and a few key strokes later I found a definition on urbandictionary.com which I have only slightly modified below:

This term is a bit more complicated than merely "runner’s high." It starts when you have your first long run, the world is peaceful, everything is perfect, you're numb, but in the best way possible. But, soon, it starts wearing off. Fast. Your mind races, you're pulled out of your dream world. You crave the run more and more, wanting to feel the same way as you did on your first long run. You go to the shoe dealer and buy the shoes you used the first time, and run. Still feels good, but not as good as the first time. You go and run more. Closer, but not quite there. You're stuck, you don't know what to do. You want to go back to that little dream world and stay forever, but your body is already developing a tolerance. You panic. You use all your time to run more and more and more, but still, not enough. You realize that you have no more time, so you stop doing other things, running whenever you can to get you that next fix. It's still not enough.  You crave more.  So, you're broke and own nothing. But you don't care, all you care about is running. Your life becomes a living hell, all in search of that next runner’s high. That's chasing the dragon.

Sound familiar?

Get Lost!

You might like it.

I wander off track frequently during trail runs.  It comes with the territory.  It’s not like there are street signs and traffic lights pointing the way.  Trail blazes are easy to miss when you are running and even if you are paying attention the blazes can be obscured by things like fallen trees or brush fires.

The trick is to be prepared with extra water and food just in case your run lasts a little longer than expected, let loved ones know where you will be and when to expect you to return, and to have enough awareness of your surroundings to recognize within a reasonable amount of time that you are off the trail, making back tracking easier.

For me, that’s part of the adventure and I have found some really interesting things off the beaten path.

Lost is a state of mind.

Wandering is an adventure.

Tolkien said it more eloquently:

Not all those who wander are lost.

Croom Fools Run - All the Gory Details

WARNING:  This post contains frank discussion of bodily functions, so if you are the type of person that gets titillated by a grown man discussing the color of his pee . . . well then I guess you better pull up a chair and get comfortable.

I don't think I moved from this spot
for an hour after finishing.

They say time heals all wounds. 

They also say time flies. 

Combine these two adages and the result is me day dreaming about my next ultra a mere three days after finishing Croom.  The memories of the suffering and agony are quickly fading and what is left behind is a tremendous sense of pride in the accomplishment and an intense desire to do it again.

I distinctly remember thinking to myself late in the race on Saturday that not only do I not want to attempt a 100 mile race but I may never want to attempt 50 again.  By the time I was driving home Sunday night, I was thinking – “You know, 100k is only 12 miles farther than I ran yesterday.  I think I could have done that.”

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

How did the race go?

Friday was stressful.  I put in half a day of work and then had to pack for the race and prepare for Easter the next day.    I consulted checklists, double checked then triple checked.  Still dissatisfied I started throwing extra items in my bag.  Extra articles of clothing, just in case.  Ridiculous crap I knew I would never need.  I was miserable with anxiety about the race.  The drive to Brooksville required about two hours including what seemed like 100 essential stops along the way.

The packet pickup helped to ease my nerves.  It was held in the Croom Forest at the location of the race start.  As soon as I pulled off of Highway 50 in Brooksville and entered the woods I felt the tension leave my shoulders.  I picked up packets for me and two friends, Chris and Jaime, then took the time to walk up the trail a bit.  My nerves finally gave way to excitement.

I ate a ridiculously huge meal at Cracker Barrel and even succumbed to the Jelly Belly Jelly Beans upsell at the register afterward.  A brief wait in a rocker on the Cracker Barrel porch to meet Chris and Jaime and my daughter and niece further helped to relax me. I spent the night at my parents’ home about another hour drive away.

My crew, looking wide awake

and alert at 5 am.  Thanks for

your help Mom.

It took hours to settle in for the evening, packing my drop bags, pinning my bib on my shorts, double triple and quadruple checking that I packed my shoes, and general pacing back and forth.  The race start was at 6 am, I wanted to be there by 5 and with an hour drive that meant getting up around 3 to give me some time to have a small breakfast and load up the car.  I had pre-arranged for Mom to chauffer me to and from the race because . . . well to be honest I had no idea what condition I would be in after finishing.  She was a sport about it especially considering her reservations about me even entering an ultra marathon.  It was almost midnight before I finally settled in to sleep.  3 hours sleep.  Fortunately I had rested well Thursday night.

Saturday morning I was actually pretty calm.  I had a bagel, banana and coffee for breakfast and we hit the road on time, even arriving at the start early.  I staked out a spot for my drop bags and a cooler and milled about waiting for the start. 

The staging area had a bit of a surreal feel with people milling about in the dark with little disks of light from headlamps flitting around.

Staging area at 5 am

I was a little nervous about the run in the dark.  I have done plenty of training runs in the dark on roads, but never on a trail.  This was going to be a unique experience.

Milliing about just before the start

We received a quick briefing about the trail markings and then we were off.  I loved the night portion of this run.  Glow sticks hanging from trees marked our way.   There was a full moon shining through the trees and the sight of a long row of headlamps bobbing up and down the trail was very cool.

 My strategy was to start slow so I intentionally positioned myself in the back of the pack.  The pace in this group was about a 12 minute mile and I found I had to be cautious about not running down the person ahead of me.  I also had to stay back far enough that I had time to react to hazards on the ground that were not visible due to the runners ahead of me.

The first three miles were on a sandy double track road, much of it very deep, so it was a bit of slog.  I found that I could almost power walk and keep up with the pack so I settled into a cycle of power walking and then jogging to catch up. 

One of the hills late in course.  This

is really unique for Florida trails

I stumbled only once on a root during the night run, catching myself on my hands without completely falling down.

After 5 miles the starter loop brought us back through the start/finish area and I reached this spot about a minute before the 50k and 15 mile racers started.  I stopped only long enough to fill my water and drop my headlamp and then I was off on my first of three 15 mile loops around the forest.

I have now run and hiked this route several times so there were no surprises.  The first 10 miles have a little bit of up and down to them but the elevation is a net decline.  The highlight is a descent into a ravine down a narrow eroded path covered with leaf litter.  That slippery leaf litter was almost my undoing on the third loop when I started to slide out of control down the descent.  I turned my ankle and had to take a few tentative steps before I was able to continue on.  The bottom of the ravine is very tropical and strewn with fallen logs so progress through this area is pretty slow.

As we approached the third aid station the route descends into a series of sink holes each with a tough climb out on the opposite end.  The final section of the loop is very hilly with 4 or 5 challenging hills including a pretty tough climb in the last mile leading up to the start/finish.

Jaime on the descent into the ravine.  This is near
where I lost traction and slid quite a ways on
top of the leaf litter on the third loop.

I had an optimistic and a reasonable goal for the race.  I figured if things went really well I might have a shot at 10 hours (12:00 pace).  My realistic goal was 11 hours (13:12 pace).  11 hours is also the qualifying time to enter the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run lottery.

Chris - on the descent into the ravine

The first loop went really well.  My goal for the race was to try to maintain a 12:00 pace or better by running a 5/1 run walk interval in the flat portions of the course and walking the inclines and running the descents and flats when the course was hilly.  Even though the experts caution against it, I hoped to “bank” a little time in the first 20 miles.  When I reached the main aid station at mile 20, I had averaged 11:56 per mile.  I was on target, but had not been able to bank any extra time.  Both the congestion in the first few miles and the more technical areas of the course slowed me down more than I expected.

Chris and Jaime on the trail

I moved pretty quickly through the small aid stations on the course, mostly stopping just long enough to refill my water and maybe grab a snack, but the main staging area was a flurry of activity.  This was the routine:

-Shake the sand and debris from my shoes

-Mix up a water bottle of Hammer Perpetuem

-Restock a pill box full of Succeed S-Caps

-Refill my water

-Drink a bottle of Boost

-Drink some water

-Choke down a little bit of food

-I also took a few Tylenol before the final loop.

Two stops at this aid station took about 10 and 12 minutes.  This was a frustratingly long time and is why many ultra runners rely on a crew to help them move quickly through aid stations.  I estimated my time at each aid station by comparing my mile splits with the miles before and after each one and figured that stops at 13 aid stations added about 50 minutes to my time with nearly half that time spent at the two stops described above.  I’m convinced that moving more efficiently through aid stations, especially the major aid stations, is the easiest way to improve my time in my next ultra.  I’ll have to start thinking like a NASCAR pit crew.

Bottom of the ravine

The second loop started very well.  The weather was still cool  but starting to warm up.  I think we hit a high of about 75 that day.  I ate a little too much at the aid station resulting in a side stitch, but it quickly subsided.

At about mile 25 I had to stop to pee.  I pulled off the trail and was mightily impressed at both the volume and clarity.  No signs of dehydration.  I have never been in that good shape so late in any run, whether a race or training.  This was a great sign because I knew the changes I made in my training and including the S-Caps for electrolyte management were working.  The race was half over and things were going perfect.

Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever. 

I knew to expect lows, but expecting them and experiencing them are too very different things.  Things started to fall apart at about the 30 mile mark.  I had reached the hills in the last quarter of the loop and was finding it exhausting.  I was unable to make it to the top of the tallest hill without stopping to rest and I had to stop again at the very top, doubled over with hands on knees, before I could work up the nerve to scramble down the other side.

Bottom of the ravine

The voices in my head turned negative.  “You’ve already run farther and longer than you ever have before.  You’re tired.  You’re hurting.  Why continue. You still have that climb leading up to the next aid station.  You’ll never make it another 15 miles.  Why try?”

About this time I stopped obsessing over my pace.  I rarely even checked to look at my mile splits as they occurred and not once in the last 20 miles of the race did I toggle though the displays on my Garmin to look at the overall pace for the run.  I just didn’t care anymore.  I was doing my best and I had a sinking feeling that looking at the data would not bring me good news.

My saving grace was something I had heard in a Trail Runner Nation podcast while driving to Brooksville Friday night.  It was just an offhand comment but it struck a chord with me.

“Suck it up Buttercup.” 

It was this mantra that got me through the dark place.  This is what I signed up for.  The low is just part of the experience, something that I will be proud that I overcame.  Just keep moving forward.  So I did, but it wasn’t easy.

Mile 35.  Can you tell how much I think things suck at that moment?

When I reached the main aid station at mile 35 I was still feeling horrible and plagued with doubt.  The 50k finishers were done for the day and bubbling with excitement, particularly Jaime who had just finished her first ultra and had a great race.  I still had another 15 miles to run.  I posed for a few pictures and when I look at those pictures now it doesn’t show, but I was in a very bad place.  I moved as efficiently as I could through my resupply routine and tried to be conversational.  I even stole a sip of beer from Jaime which helped a little.  When I stood up and headed for the trail again that was the worst I felt physically during the entire race.  I was sore in places I never experience pain while running.  The soles of my feet, my lower legs, quads, hips nothing felt right.  At that moment I didn’t think there was any way I would make it another 15 miles.

This is me trying to congratulate and be happy for
Jaime but dreading the next 15 miles.

Fortunately, nothing lasts forever.

By some miracle, by the time I reached the next aid station things were looking up.  I don’t know if it was the Tylenol I had taken at the aid station, the extra calories I had consumed, or maybe a compassionate act of God, but I felt better.  My legs felt like they were moving with a good rhythm again. My stride felt right.  The pain eased.   My confidence returned and I when I thought about the remaining 10 miles left in the race the qualifier “only” came to mind.  Only 10 more miles.  It was a  small thing but it marked a complete turnaround in my frame of mind.

Jaime - climbing out of one of the sinkholes

I stopped to pee again.  The volume was a little lower and the color a little darker, but I have seen worse, much worse.  I was still in good shape.  Another small thing.  It may seem odd, but a good pee helped to lift my spirits too.

At the aid station at mile 43 I came across a runner in distress.  He looked to be in bad shape but was receiving aid under the shade of an umbrella.  It was a frightening thing to see but I also realized that I was only 7 miles from the finish.  I was well hydrated, my electrolytes were good, and I still had energy so I was confident that I had avoided a similar disaster.

The aid stations were all well stocked with ice.  Although this was the hottest point in the day I was completely refreshed just by chugging the ice cold water and allowing it to spill out the sides of my bottle over my face, neck and shirt. 

The rest of the run went well.  It was hard, still very hard, but my attitude had completely reversed from my last run through this section of the course.  I made it up that big hill without stopping, although I did hesitate for a moment again at the top.

I wasn’t sure of the distance I had remaining.  I knew my Garmin was measuring the distance short due to the serpentine nature of the trail.  I estimated about two miles.  Still intentionally ignoring my average pace, I looked at the total time and tried to figure if I still had a shot at 11 hours.  It was close.  If I had estimated the distance correctly I could make it if I could maintain a 9:00 pace.  9:00 is something that would be easy under normal conditions, but I was exhausted and most of the rest of the course was uphill.  All I could do was give it 100% and see what happened.  I did manage to pass a few people on this stretch and I could feel myself running just a little taller every time that happened.

I finally reached the finish at 11 hours and 7 minutes.  Pretty close to what I estimated as a reasonable goal for the race, but 7 minutes late to qualify for Western States.  I’m OK with that though.  This was my first 50 miler.  Although I learned a lot, I know now that I need a lot more experience before I even think about attempting a 100 mile race.  I’m also pretty confident that I will be able to significantly improve my time in my next ultra using what I learned at Croom.

I know this was a long post, but not surprisingly I still have more to say.  Next time I’ll review how well some of my gear performed in the race.

Post Script

I wanted to extend a special thanks to Chris Goodreau for many of these photos.  It takes a frustratingly long time to take a photo with my cell phone.  Since I was aware that my pace was a little slower than I hoped, mine stayed in my pocket for most of the race.  Chris was also very patient with me over the past few months as I peppered him with questions every time I saw him.  I would not have finished this race without his help.

Note Chris' dirt goatee.  Some of us made it

through the race without doing a faceplant.

2012 Croom Fools Run – Part I

Who would have ever thought that bonking on a training run was the best thing that could have ever happened to me in training for the Croom Fools Run.  Since the start of the year I focused solely on mileage and built up to a fairly significant weekly base.  I was pleased with my progress.  My body was responding well. I was staying healthy and uninjured.  I was confident . . . over-confident.  

Then I bonked.  

Less than a month out from Croom on what should have been a routine four hour trail run, I bonked hard.  It was bad but fortunately I was only two miles from the end of the trail when it happened.

I was initially in denial and considered it a fluke.  Luckily, something in the back of my mind kept nagging at me.  There was an element missing from my training, something that if I didn’t address, would result in disaster.  So I read.  I googled.  I jumped into online forums.  I asked questions, lots of questions, of anyone I could find with experience (Thanks Chris and Don!).

What I ultimately discovered was that I was neglecting race nutrition.  I was taking in way too few calories to sustain an entire day of running.  I also learned about the delicate balance between hydration and electrolytes.  I realized I was experiencing an electrolyte deficiency that was just beginning to display symptoms at training distances of 25-30 miles that had I not corrected would have spelled disaster in the race (something I witnessed personally at Mile 43).

I stumbled on an amazing resource for ultra runners – an online community called Trail Runner Nation.  Among other things they have podcasts featuring interviews with experienced ultra runners and experts on subjects like coaching and nutrition for endurance athletes.  I discovered products like Succeed S-Caps (electrolyte pills) and Hammer’s Perpetuem.   I cannot sing the praises enough of both of these products.

In my last few weeks of training I was able to test and tweak my caloric and electrolyte intake.  I nearly doubled the amount of calories I was taking in per hour.  I shunned Gatorade and Gels in favor of a miracle pill that I popped just once or twice an hour.  Bonking was the best thing that could have happened to me and these changes paid off – big time. 

I successfully completed the Croom Fools Run 50 Mile Ultra on Saturday with a time of 11:07:01.

The course is a 15 mile loop hiking trail through the CroomWildlife Management Area, part of the Withlacoochee State Forest in Brooksville, FL.  The 50 mile race included a 5 mile starter loop and 3 full loops around the hiking trail.

Here are the stats:

Race Stats
Starters:           77

Men:                52

Women:           25

Finishers:         61

Finisher ratio:  79%

(Interestingly out of 16 runners that dropped, only one was a woman)

My Stats:

Time:   11:07:01

Pace:    13:20

Overall Place:  39^th

Gender Place:  24^th

Age Group:     10^th

Once again a mid-packer.  Out of 77 starters I practically had the median time.  Am I happy with that?  For my first 50 miler to finish middle of the pack when the pack consisted of athletes capable of running 50 miles – HELL YEAH!

Lap Breakdown

What I like about this chart is that although I slowed down with each loop, I improved significantly relative to the field – from 45^th after the 5 mile starter loop to 20^th for the final 15 miles.

I have so much to say about this race that I know it will turn into a book if I don’t restrain myself.    Suffice it to say for now that the race was an awesome experience.  From the organizer to the volunteers to the route itself.   I’ll post a complete blow by blow in the next few days.

Why

It was a rough week last week.  Not my running.  My training went very well.  My body feels good . . . strong . . . prepared.

It was rough because a local runner was shot and killed during a robbery at the restaurant he managed.

It was rough because an ultra-runner I idolized died while on a trail run.

It was rough because another friend was diagnosed with cancer.  This disease has touched way too many people in my life.

Life is short.  It can end in an instant during an act of workplace violence, you can battle a vicious disease, or you can die suddenly while doing an activity you do and love every day.

It is precisely because life is short that you should spend as much time as possible with the ones you love, and as much time as possible doing things that give you joy and a sense of fulfillment.

Lately I seem to struggle with the loved ones part so for now I’m focusing on the other.

I keep getting asked why I’m interested in ultra-marathons, why I would put myself through something so difficult and dangerous.

I love running and especially trail running.  It gives me a sense of peace, joy and fulfillment.  It doesn’t hurt that it also keeps me fit and healthy.

Once you reach a level of endurance that enables you to run for hours, distance becomes irrelevant.  The challenge is no longer physical, the challenge is finding the mental fortitude required and simply keeping your body fueled and hydrated well enough to continue that level of activity for long periods of time.  Most people look at an ultra marathon and find the numbers 50 or 100 intimidating and dangerous.  I think of them as an opportunity to spend an entire day doing something I absolutely love to do and if I perform well, I will be rewarded with a finish line at the end.

Most of my friends like to spend their weekends on the couch in front of the tv, or at a sports bar, drinking beer and eating wings and chips.  I like to go out and spend a few hours running, usually with friends, sometimes solo.  In the long run, which of those activities do you think is really the more dangerous?

Inspired by Caballo Blanco

Micah True, also known as Caballo Blanco, passed away last week while on a 12 mile trail run in the Gila Wilderness in New Mexico.  Micah True's story was featured in the book Born to Run but if you aren't familiar with him or his work with the Tarahumara in Mexico's Copper Canyon, you can read a great interview of him here.  (Thanks Brad for the great link) 

The cause of death is still unknown and autopsy results should be disclosed in the next few days.  He was found reclining by the side of a stream with his feet soaking in the cool water.  The image sounds peaceful but I found it eerily reminiscent of this photo I took just four months ago. 

It’s the kind of thing I do on virtually every trail run, take the time to stop and savor my surroundings – a beautiful vista, the sound of the wind through the trees or the sensation of cool water on my feet.

I’m a little surprised at myself by how much I have been touched by his death.  Many friends have been sending me news links about it.  I think part of it is because I do so much solo trail running, but you can easily see how inspired I was by his story just by looking at a graph of my monthly mileage.

Click to enlarge

It was a pivotal moment in my life and I know that I would not have accomplished the things I have over the past two and a half years without that spark of inspiration.  I think its rare in life that such a moment can be so dramatically illustrated.

“I just want to live a healthy life, live and love.  To do what I can with whatever I am blessed with.  I have no material goals of being wealthy.  I feel I am already wealthy in the ways I care about.”
   Micah True

Running Budget

Let’s see if I can figure this out.  

I’m running 200 miles a month.  Average shoe life is 350 miles.  There are 12 months in a year. Isn’t this a leap year? Does that make a difference?  

Carry the two. 

I average three gels per long run, times two long runs per week, 52 weeks in a year. 

Race entry fees.  Travel. Gas prices are expected to hit WHAT!?  

At least I never wear out shorts or socks.  Oh, but they do tend to disappear in the wash or get forgotten in drop bags.  Dang those Thorlo Experias are expensive! 

Gatorade, Hammer supplements, how much do I spend on chocolate milk a month?  Oh and beer, that counts as a recovery drink . . . right?

Multiply by Pi are squared.  Or was it a square Pie times R.  My daughter would know but I’m too embarrassed to ask her to help me figure out a word problem.

80 pounds of ice a month adds up too.  

And what is with my appetite, my cupboard is always bare.  

Equals the square of the hypotenuse.  

I have a headache.

I think I need a sponsor, or maybe a sugar momma.  

Florida Keys Ragnar Relay 2012

The Team:  Shanghaied

Jeff

Mileage:  36.8

Road Kills:  76

Jaime

Mileage:  30

Road Kills:  47

Bob

Mileage:  35.6

Road Kills:  20

Josh

Mileage:  30.2

Road Kills:  54

Liz

Mileage:  23.9

Road Kills:  46

Jennifer

Mileage:  42.2

Road Kills:  57 

Why the name Shanghaied?  Let’s just say that our fearless team captain, Jennifer, didn’t leave us much choice when she “recruited” us for the team.

The Relay

Florida Keys Ragnar Relay.  199 miles from Miami to Key West.

In case you are not familiar with the Ragnar Relay Series the race is run by teams of 12 runners that divide themselves into two vans each carrying 6 runners.  While one van runs the course, supporting its runners between checkpoints, the other rests.  The vans swap out at major exchange points every 6 legs.  Each runner is responsible for 3 legs with total mileage ranging from 10 to 22 miles. The race continues all day and all night until you reach the finish line.

For an even greater challenge, teams can enter as an ultra team and run the same course with a single van and 6 runners.  Ultra runners each run 6 legs with mileage totals between 24 and 42 miles. I can attest that this means there is no opportunity for rest.

Start times are staggered with the faster teams handicapped by a later start with the goal being that all of the teams reach the finish line about the same time.  Estimated times are based on the average 10k pace for the team.  Passing other teams is an accomplishment that means your team has overcome their handicap.  Teams collect these “road kills” and often keep a running tally painted on the sides of their vans like fighter pilots.

Vans are decorated and “tagged” by other teams.  Runners are often costumed.  The atmosphere of the race is like a rolling party that moves through the race course and climaxes with the finish festivities on Duval Street in Key West.

This year the race attracted over 500 teams.  About 5000 runners.


My Race

We were originally assigned a start time of 10:00 a.m., however Jeff had issues with his flight into Miami.  He was delayed until Friday morning and we were able to get our start pushed back to noon.  This meant we were starting with much faster teams.

Jeff was also our leadoff runner, which meant he started running his first leg just a little more than two hours after landing at the Miami airport.

I was assigned to be runner #3 and #9 with my six legs totaling just over 35 miles.

1:25 p.m. Friday
Leg 3:  University of Miami to Tropical Park
Distance:  3.1 miles
Time: 25:12
Pace:  8:17
Road Kills:  1

The challenge on this first leg was to not run it like a 5k so I tried to start out conservatively and ease into this very long race.  That strategy went out the window when I discovered one of the unexpected obstacles we had to endure.  Traffic.  The route followed a sidewalk on a busy road with several bad intersections.  There were no road closings for this event so when we approached a red light at a busy intersection there was no alternative but to wait.  This was the great equalizer since it allowed runners to either catch up or pull away depending on whether you made the light.

I also discovered the disadvantage of our late start.  We were running with some much faster teams, or at least faster than me.  I had a few runners pass me like I was standing still.  Road kills in these first few legs were hard to come by but I did manage to chalk up a few.

5:24 p.m. Friday
Leg 9:  Village of Old Cutler
Distance:  4.2 miles
Time:  34:53
Pace:  8:02
Road Kills:  3

I succumbed to the spirit of competition in this, my fastest leg.  I just hoped that it didn’t come back to haunt me later in the race.  The route followed a paved trail through a nice neighborhood.  I got stopped with two other runners at a traffic light in the first mile.  When the light changed we jostled for position and two of us pulled away with me in the lead.  We were close enough to chat and I learned he was from another ultra team – The End is Near a/k/a The Mayan Guys (they had a pyramid mounted on the top of their van) a/k/a Jaime’s Fan Club (long story).

I was comfortable with the 8:00 pace we were running but I knew it was risky for me.  I just couldn’t bear the thought of slowing down and letting the guy kill me!  I was ecstatic that I held him off for the whole 4 mile run.

We were completely disorganized by sunset.

9:59 p.m. Friday
Leg 15:  Southern Glades Canal
Distance:  8.2 miles
Time:  1:19:24
Pace:  9:48
Road Kills:  1

My first night time leg.  I was really looking forward to this leg and it did not disappoint.  We got reports from teams ahead of us about how difficult this leg was and all that did was to increase my anticipation.

The course followed a rocky trail (I won’t dignify it by calling it a road) that ran through the Everglades along the Southern Glades Canal.  It was dark and the footing was very difficult requiring diligent attention to foot placement nearly every step to avoid stumbling.  I was prepared with a headlamp and a handheld flashlight.  The team vans drove along the road too but were prohibited from stopping to render aid because the trail was so narrow.  The passing vans were a mixed blessing. Sometimes headlights helped to illuminate the road, sometimes they just ruined my night vision, and sometimes the dust they disturbed caught the light from my headlamp leaving my vision completely obscured.

I knew there were gators in the water. I would occasionally glance over to see if I could spot any glowing eyes reflected back, but this would usually cause me to stumble.  For the most part I had to keep my eyes forward and struggle through the leg as best as I could.

Call me masochistic, but I loved running every moment of that leg.  My only regrets are that I got killed twice when I had to stop to retie my shoe and once again when I dropped my flashlight.

5:21 a.m. Saturday
Leg 21:  Islamorada to Long Key
Distance:  8.2 miles
Time:  1:18:04
Pace:  9:57
Road Kills:  8

Fatigue really started to set in by this time.  Jaime had one of her longer legs preceding this one so I was able to catch a little sleep in the back seat of the van.  We arrived at the exchange point early enough that everyone got a chance to rest their eyes.  I was startled awake by something, I’m still not sure what, and was completely disoriented.  I had to ask if we were at the checkpoint and how much time before Jaime was expected.  Four minutes.  I got out of the van, started sucking down a gel, couldn’t figure out which direction I needed to go to find the exchange, and was looking for a port-a-john when I heard Jaime screaming our bib number.  “148 . . . 148 . . .148!”  The effect on me was like mainlining caffeine.  I couldn’t believe I was late for the exchange.  I sprinted towards her voice shouting her name, finally found her and apologized profusely.  I ran out of the chute still fumbling with my Garmin and headlight.

Fully awake again, I was pretty happy with how well this leg went which included my first bridge.  It was hard to tell how tall it was but I could see a line of the flashing red lights that the Ragnar rules require us to wear at night rising into the sky.  I powered through the incline, which I now call the quad killer, and earned a couple of road kills on the way up.  I never had a sense of how tall that bridge was until we drove back over it on the way home Sunday.  I think it might have intimidated me if I had run it during the day.

Pushing so hard over that bridge cooked my quads.  I made it through the rest of the run ok, but I was starting to slow down.  I was worried that I still had two legs left, including my longest.

With the end of this run came day break.  Finally.  It had been a very long night and the sunrise was glorious.  It really helped to lift my spirits.


10:25 a.m. Saturday
Leg 27:  End of 7 Mile Bridge to Big Pine Key
Distance:  9.3 miles
Time:  1:36:02
Pace:  10:16
Road Kills:  6

My longest leg.  As my 5th leg approached I started to worry.  My quads were history and I knew it was going to be a tough run.  The night had been cool, perfect for running, but it was now the middle of the day, and hot.

My leg started at the end of the 7 Mile Bridge.  As we approached the exchange point the road was congested.  Ragnar vans were jostling for parking.  Hundreds of runners were milling about on the side of the road.  Out of nowhere a pickup truck came careening out of control from a beach access driveway.  It swerved to avoid a car right into the running lane then swerved again sending a traffic cone flying that I thought at first was a runner, then overturned in the middle of the road right in front of our van.  It was one of the most frightening scenes I have ever witnessed.  Miraculously, no one was seriously hurt.  Thinking back, I don’t see how it was possible that no one was struck by the truck.  We learned later one runner suffered minor injuries when he jumped over a railing to escape.

This did not bode well for a good run.

I struggled to maintain a decent pace for the first 5 miles of this leg, but then things really got tough.  Most of this leg was unsupported due to bridges so I was on my own, trying to ration the water I was carrying.  With the exception of a restless 30 minute nap I had been awake since 7:00 the previous morning.  I was approaching the 30 mile mark.  I was exhausted, hungry, dripping sweat, and parched.  Around mile seven I saw a figure walking toward me.  It was Liz carrying cold water and Gatorade.  I had been on the verge of giving up but my team had found the perfect place to lend support.  She helped me refill my bottle and gave me the boost I needed to continue.  The words of support I got from the rest of my team, and from the members of another ultra team that we had been keeping pace with gave me the energy I needed to finish that leg.

There are no mile markers along the course.  Only directional signs and a single “One Mile to Go” sign at the end of each leg to indicate distance.  Since much of the route followed US 1 with no turns, even the directional signs were few and far between.  Near where my team met me I saw one of the blue Ragnar signs, the first I had seen during the leg, and prayed that my Garmin was wrong and that it indicated one mile to go.  When I could finally read it, it simply indicated “Straight Ahead.”  It pissed me off and I think I cursed aloud at the sign as I ran past.  It dashed my hopes that the leg was almost over.

That 15k run was as tough as any marathon I have ever run.

The end of the relay moves at a furious pace.  Most of the legs are short, many less than 3 miles.  That gives the rest of the team precious few moments to load up the van and get set up for the next exchange.  After finishing this leg and handing off to Josh, I was spent.  I collapsed.  Liz brought me a chunk of ice that I rubbed on my scalp to try to cool down and then on my quads to try to get some relief.  That was all the time I had for recovery before it was time to catch up to Josh and set up for the next exchange.



2:21 p.m. Saturday
Leg 33: US 1 Mile Marker 13 to Big Coppitt Key
Distance:  2.7 miles
Time:  25:14
Pace: 9:14
Road Kills:  1

The next five legs seemed to fly by in an instant. My final, and shortest leg, came up before I knew it.  I had taken this one for granted from the beginning.  2.7 miles . . . a piece of cake . . . I thought I would be able to finish the race on auto pilot.  But as I waited for Jaime I had no idea if I would be able to take even a single running stride.  It had been barely two hours since finishing one of the hardest runs of my life and now I was expected to run again.

I hunched over next to some bushes to try to grab the only shade I could find and tried to stretch my quads.  I saw Jennifer eating an orange and it reminded me again that I had not eaten a real meal since breakfast the day before.  I was hungry and needed the energy so I unabashedly bummed a few slices of orange from her.

I saw Jaime approach and nervously stepped into the exchange chute.  When that orange slap bracelet hit my wrist I felt a surge of adrenaline.  Where that burst came from I have no idea.  I set my sights on the runner that had started just ahead of me.  I wanted to get at least one more kill.  I checked my watch and knew I could never sustain the pace I was running.  I had over two miles to reel her in so I eased up just a bit.

I had already run 33 miles but this was a race after all and I determined to push through to the end.  I finally passed her about half way through the leg and then had to resist an overwhelming urge to slow down.  The end was too close.  There was another runner ahead but she was holding her lead.  There was no catching her.

When I reached the end and handed off the bracelet to Josh I doubled over.  I was dizzy, nauseas, dehydrated but also elated.  I had finished.  Before the start of this leg I had doubts about being able to run at all so I am as proud of the 9:14 pace I averaged during this short run as I am of any PR I have at any distance.

Again, there was no time to recover or celebrate.  We had three more legs to go to reach the finish line.

The Finish

Jennifer had the final leg.  She started leg 36 5.8 miles from the finish on Duval Street and we drove ahead to meet her.

The wait was agonizing.  The finish line was packed with people and the crowd roared every time a team approached to cross the line together.

We kept our eyes peeled on the last corner before the final stretch and Jeff ran back to try to spot her further up the course.  It was obvious from his body language as soon as she came into view.

Seeing her round that corner felt like a reunion.  Our team was complete again.  We all fell into place behind her and ran across the line as one.  In my adult life, I have never felt such close camaraderie as part of a team than I did with these five people going through this ordeal together.  Finally crossing that finish line together was an emotional and overwhelming experience.

We crossed the finish line in 28 hours 20 minutes and 47 seconds.  We had no idea how well we did relative to other teams because of the way teams were staggered from the start.  As we met other ultra teams at checkpoints we had a sense that we were holding our own and doing well but there was no way to be sure.  The results were finally posted Monday afternoon and we learned that we placed third in the mixed ultra division.  I was incredulous.  That was just the icing on the cake.  A reward for a race run hard.

Some Acknowledgements

Jennifer: for being a monster on the race course.  42 miles at an astonishing pace was an inspirational sight to see.

Liz:  for having the best attitude.   Always a smile on her face.  Never complaining.  Always quick to offer aid.  Plus she was a good sport after I uploaded a photo of her to facebook when she passed out mere moments after reaching our hotel room.

Jeff: for being the most reluctant member of our team.  For someone who was so vocally begrudging, he sure seemed to laugh a lot and is one of the most gifted runners I have ever seen.

Jaime: for being the van cutup and chief hijinks instigator.  It seemed like every phrase that escaped her mouth had everyone busting out laughing.

Josh: one of the fastest runners I know for tackling the “LONGEST LEG IN RAGNAR HISTORY” and scoring dozens of road kills along the way.

Me:  for being the van garbage disposal.  I lost all control of my appetite during the relay. If food was getting passed around the van I was eating, whatever it was that was offered.  I think my team mates started to punk me to see the number of different things I would eat.  I ate granola bars, a hard-boiled egg, bananas, strawberries, oranges, gels, trail mix, a peanut butter sandwich, a cold cut sandwich that I devoured so fast I have no idea what kind of meat was on it, pretzels, Fig Newtons, donut holes, Snickers Marathon Bars and probably much more that I can’t even remember.

Liz: for telling us the “BEST STORY EVER!”

Josh:  the superhero, for coming to the aid of someone choking on the beach after the race.  He was up on his feet before I even knew what was happening.

Jaime: for making me feel old by not understanding a reference to Frogger when we were talking about crossing intersections.

Jeff:  for making me feel young again the day after the race.  Watching him struggle to climb into the van had us all in stitches.

Jaime, Liz and Jeff:   for their superhuman endurance.  How they managed to go partying in Key West Saturday night is beyond me.

Jennifer:  for not only being a great team captain, but for orchestrating the logistics for the five teams that WVR sent to the Keys.  9 vans, 52 people, 18 hotel rooms in two cities, delayed flights, substitutions due to LMQ’s (last minute quitters), she handled it all in stride.

Post Script

The most frequent question I’ve been asked since the race is whether I wore my huaraches.  No, I didn’t.  I packed them and was tempted to wear them on some of the shorter legs but I still run slower in the sandals than I do in regular shoes.  I’m still getting used to the change they encourage to my running form and I still find a couple of miles in them very fatiguing.  Had I been running on my own I would have worn them, but I was part of a team and wanted to hold my own.

I rotated two pair of Saucony Kinvaras.  One pair I wore sockless on the shorter, faster legs and the other pair I wore with Thorlo Experias.  I ran over 35 miles with not a single blister or foot problem.  I was a little uncomfortable during that rocky leg through the Glades and a little more protection underfoot would have been more comfortable but I survived it.  I absolutely love these shoes.