Category Archives: Ultramarathons

Oh, The Pain, and a Grandmaster Prepares for a Race

IF I DON’T FINISH THE GRANDMASTER 50 THIS WEEKEND, it’s the fault of the Super 5K runners last Sunday.

Because they didn’t eat enough hot dogs.

Follow along here. Fewer hot dogs eaten meant there were a lot left over. And as the Super 5K is a Zero Waste event, they were packed up for composting rather than dumped in the trash. And as Zero Waste captain, I lifted the compost cart into the trailer. Whereupon I pulled a muscle in my back. And it still hurts to stand up. So therefore, … logically, …

I am following a “three I” rehabilitation program. Two of them (ice and ibuprofen) are the advice of my trainers at Body Specs. The third I came up with myself.

Apply liberally to mouth at first sign of discomfort.

Levity aside, it was my own stupid fault. There is a correct way to lift the compost cart, but I was in a hurry and used one of the many incorrect ways. Just goes to show how quickly and easily one can screw things up at precisely the worst time to do so.

Now for a bit about this weekend’s race.

I’d planned to work on strength training this month rather than run an ultra. But I got interested in the Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc (UTMB), an intriguing and insanely popular race which in addition to a lottery, requires two qualifying races. So I began looking for qualifying races that would fit my 2020 schedule.

The Grandmaster Ultra caught my interest because it’s a UTMB qualifier and is only open to runners 50 and older – hence the name, “Grandmaster.” (As much as I’d like you to believe it means something like Grandmaster in chess, the truth would come out sooner or later.)

50 miles of this. Looks like fun, right?

Despite my untimely injury, there is some good news. I’d gotten in a three-hour training run the day before, so other than the back thing, I feel ready to rock this race. I have a good physical base from year-round training, but the brain also needs to be prepped for the sheer monotony of running at a slow pace for hours on end. And slower is tougher. Don’t believe me? Try it sometime.

The race itself will have the advantages of a new setting, the adrenaline rush from being there, the company of other ultrarunners, and a set goal of reaching the finish line. Long training runs have none of those, so pushing through three hours (and a bit over 20 miles) was enough. Plus I’ve run other 50-milers, and longer, so I have some idea of what to expect and how ready I am for it.

The other good news is we have 24 hours to finish, a very generous time. Most 50-milers I’ve run have cutoffs around 14 hours. And it looks like the weather will be good, too, with sunny skies and the Arizona desert temps ranging from 40 degrees to 65 or so. Since I just need to finish to get the UTMB qualifying points, the keys for me will be to run easy and stay hydrated.

As for being a bit hurt, I don’t expect to get much sympathy. When the subject comes up among runners, even those “of a certain age,” it’s about how they sucked it up and kept going. Like the time I asked someone what his toughest marathon was (“Colorado. At altitude. And I had pneumonia.”). Remember that guy who cut off his hand to escape from dying in the wilderness? He’d fit right in with trail runners. I’m not gonna say a word. Even if I need to hobble across that damn finish line, I’m just fine, thank you.

The Double Dog Dare

OH, WHAT HAVE I DONE NOW.

It’s a new year, and with that comes the feeling yet again that all things are possible. And in that blithe, careless frame of mind, I signed up for my first ultra of 2020.

Make that two ultras, actually.

On the same day.

I have no excuse for this. I did it of my own free will, being of sound mind(?). I wasn’t even hungover.

A bit of history: back in March 2018, I ran a 12-hour race called the Dogwood. It’s a 3.47-mile trail loop with rolling hills. It’s a pretty course, but running it over and over tests one mentally as much as physically. It reminded me of a short roller coaster loop I was subjected to as a kid at a local carnival, the difference being I could stop when I wanted instead of at the whim of a sadistic clown holding the power lever.

I managed 16 loops in those twelve hours, and in an unexpected surprise, came in third! (My prize was a bottle of beer, which I accepted once I recovered from my bonk.)

The “podium group” of 2018. I’m in the center, being held up by the 1st and 2nd place finishers. (I’d recovered enough to stand, but not much more.)

I don’t often repeat ultras (I like variety and have only so much time and money) so I wasn’t planning a return anytime soon. But the Dogwood has changed. First, a 24-hour option was added. Makes perfect sense; just add more loops, and a psychiatrist to the medical staff. But the following feature was what grabbed my attention:

Interested in a different challenge this year?  How about running two 50k’s in the same day?  At different locations.  We have teamed up with our friends at Single Track Maniac to offer the Virginia Tour Challenge.  The concept is simple.  Start your day in beautiful, scenic Williamsburg Va.  Run Single Track Maniac 50k.  Get in the car.  Drive to Twin Lakes State Park.  Run a 50k here.  Participants will receive a special award.

That’s right. Two races in one day, totaling 100K in all.

As I made 2020 race plans it kept poking its head up. And the more I thought about it, the more intriguing it became – a You know you wanna… kind of thing. So I finally bowed to the inevitable and signed up.

I see the challenge as not so much the distance, though it sure isn’t trivial. Rather, it’s how I’ll handle the time between the two races. It’s a two-hour drive from Williamsburg to the Dogwood, which gives my fatigued muscles lots of time to tighten up and remind me how sore they are. It helps that I know the Dogwood loop very well, so I know what’s in store. Getting started will be the biggest hurdle.

But the registrations are paid and the airline ticket is booked, so I suppose I’m committed. (Or ought to be.)

Assuming I survive race day I can also look forward to spending some time with my daughter Tori afterward, who lives in Richmond with her wife and two charming pooches. She ran a loop of the Dogwood with me last time, and says she looks forward to doing it again!

Tori and I enjoy my 3rd place prize. Best pacer ever!

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P.S. I just thought of another good reason to run this event. It will be great practice for when I do a 200-mile race. Since I’ll most likely need to take at least one extended break during it (you know, sleep and all that) this race will be excellent training. Man, this is just making more sense all the time!

Oh, excuse me, gotta go. There’s some guy in a white suit outside my front door carrying a giant butterfly net. Wonder what he wants…

Only a Thousand

THE FIRST TIME I RAN a thousand miles in a year was in 2011, also the year of my first marathon. I’d had to step up my game that December to get the final miles in, and broke the tape, as it were, on the 29th. On New Year’s Eve I had one more run to get a total of 1,010.10 miles for the year.

My coach was proud of me. My wife was proud. And above all, I was proud. After all, it was nearly double the 567 miles I’d run the year before. I was a four-figure runner; I’d arrived!

From 2011: 1,000 miles! Woohoo!

The first Saturday in January 2012, I went out for the regular weekend club run. I really wanted to share my accomplishment with someone, but wasn’t sure how. Then I caught up with a couple of guys chatting.

“How’d your running go last year, Sam?” one of them asked the other.

“It sucked,” Sam replied. “I only ran a thousand miles.”

That didn’t really deflate me much, just bring me back to earth. And I’ve run at least a thousand miles just about every year since, including this year, where I also hit the mark on December 29. Yay me!

2019 – 1,000 miles! Woohoo!

To be fair, a thousand miles a year is not that exceptional for regular runners. Many of them run 2,000 or more. And at least one runner I know has reached the 100,000 mile lifetime mark. Does this diminish anyone who runs fewer miles? Not at all. If you run, you’re a runner in my book, and in the books of all the other runners I know. Mega-marathon runner? Good work. Only run a couple of miles at a time? Good work.

Now it’s true that my mileage total is unusually low for an ultrarunner. People are surprised to find out that I run 100-mile races averaging only 20-30 miles per week. But I also strength train at the gym, and supplement running with long bike rides. Meanwhile, a couple of people I know whose exercise is mostly distance running get injured or struggle to finish ultras.

What do I take away from all this? That everyone’s body is different, and there is no single “magic formula” for accomplishing your goals. And I like mixing up my training. Running 50 miles per week is not something I enjoy, so I find other ways to build the base I need. This allows me to enjoy the training as much as the events I train for.

All that said. . .it may be time to step up my running, enjoyable or not. I’ve decided to try for one of the Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc (UTMB) races. More about this later, but the nickel summary is: it requires at least two tough qualifying races, plus a lottery. This makes it at least a two-year process, running the qualifiers in 2020 in order to apply for the UTMB race in 2021. And, of course, there are other ultras I want to try out, possibly including a 200-miler, or even the ten-day, 314-mile Last Annual Vol State Race.

To get through all that I’ll need to be in really good shape. Additional strength training will be part of that, but there’s no getting round more running too. So I’ll have to decide if the extra effort is worth it. For now, at least, I’m assuming yes. So you all can look forward to some (hopefully) interesting stories in 2020 as I share my adventures in getting to UTMB, and beyond.

Happy New Year, everyone!

A Smaller Bigfoot, and Call for BHAG Ideas

I WUZ THIS CLOSE.

All this year I’ve had it in my mind that 2020 was going to feature my first 200-mile race. And I had it picked out: the Bigfoot 200 in August, in Washington State.

I’d already started the process; I told my wife and coach, and lined up a tentative crew with our friends on the West Coast. And as the race requires eight hours of trail work beforehand, I signed up to volunteer with the Friends of the Sleeping Bear Heritage Trail here in Michigan.

All set! I just needed to wait until registration opened and push the button. Then would begin a year’s worth of training to get ready.

Well, it didn’t happen quite that way.

Registration for the 2020 Bigfoot 200 opened late last month. There was even a substantial “early bird” discount. I went to the website and dutifully went through the course map, runner instructions, disclaimers, and other stuff they want you to read before registering.

This is good advice. Bigfoot is far different from any other ultra I’ve been involved with. For example, the Veterans Memorial 150, while no walk in the park, passes through several towns and has easy crew access most of the way.

Lest you think civilization makes 150 miles easy…

Bigfoot is 200 miles in the middle of nowhere with little or no cell phone service, aid stations averaging over ten miles apart, and only a few locations with crew access. A GPS tracking chip and survival equipment is mandatory for runners, with good reason.

None of that phased me, though. From previous tough ultras I figured I had the physical and mental stamina to get it done. No worries! And yet, as I reached the final signup page, my fingers hesitated. Something wasn’t right. I took a break to ponder what.

Cost was certainly a factor: a $900 entry fee and travel, lodging, and meal costs on top of that. Not a showstopper – Burning Man last year cost a similar amount – but still substantial. Plus my crew would be making a multi-day commitment and traveling to locations difficult to access. It’s a lot to ask.

But it came down to basic questions I finally figured out to ask myself. Was I really looking forward to this experience? With all the effort I’d be putting into training, preparation, logistics, and actually running the silly thing, would I enjoy it?

After I finish this race I’ll tell you I enjoyed it.

The answer, to my surprise, was No. I just didn’t feel ready for it. And so I won’t be doing it next year. However, I do plan on being there.

While perusing the website I found out there are some shorter races – the “Littlefoot” series – of various distances up to 100K. The 40-miler, a loop around Mt. St. Helens, particularly appealed to me. I’ve been there and hiked some of the trail. And I can do it in a single day, leaving more time to spend with our friends. Registration doesn’t open for that one until January, but I fully intend to push the button then.

So now I need to choose another BHAG(*) race for next year. I’d like it to be a 100-miler or more, although more then one fellow runner has recommended Comrades Marathon, the infamous 12-hour, 56 miler in South Africa. I welcome reader suggestions!

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(*) BHAG = Big Hairy-A$$ Goal