Fear The Chicken

Rocky Raccoon 60 Miler

2012-02-08T13:40:00.000-08:00

Well, I went, I ran, and I DNF at the Rocky Raccoon 100 miler.

This was only my 2^nd DNF in a race, ever. Wapack was my other one when I pretty much broke my ankle at mile 5 and hobbled back to the start/finish. Let’s just say that it takes a lot to bring me down, and RR managed to do it.

First off, I want to send a HUGE THANK YOU to the one, the only, the original Honey Badger, Lauren Liuzzo, for being on my support crew. She was up when I was up and she was still up, volunteering at the race site, when I was back in bed licking my wounds. Fil, are you taking notes here? ;)

On with our tale….

Dima, Karen, Lauren, and I flew down to Huntsville, TX via Houston on Friday morning. Rented a car and went straight to BIB # pickup at the Huntsville State Park where the race was being staged. The 100 mile race consisted of five 20 mile loops throughout the park over semi-technical trail, but was very gentle by New England standards.

Trouble started right away as it was raining buckets the moment we landed, and the forecast for race day didn’t look any better. Apparently, it hadn’t rained in the area in a couple of weeks, and right on cue, they get a day and a half of heavy rain during my first 100. Let’s just say that rain and Texas trail clay doesn’t mix well. Actually, it mixes really well. Too f’in well.

We all eventually checked into the seediest Motel 6 we could find 15 minutes away from ground zero, and found our way to the greasiest joint we could find in the heart of TX. They had craw fish on the menu, and let’s see what else: craw fish, craw fish, craw fish, corn, craw fish, craw fish, and….NOODLES! What we yanks call pasta up here, they call noodles down there. Well, once the pasta dishes arrived, we found out why they call it noodles. The difference is that you can microwave their “pasta”.

Other than the fried pickle incident at the mechanical bull riding competition, the first day was quite “uneventful…………”

We headed off to bed relatively early and very sore.

We woke up to the sound of thunder. How far off you wonder? About 15 minutes away. 30% chance? Must be Texas math.

Mistake #1: Didn’t pack any wet weather gear other than extra socks and extra shoes. Actually, Mistake #1A was signing up for this godforsaken race in the first place, but I won’t go there.

The race was at 6AM and we arrived at the park around 5:30AM. It’s a good thing you don’t need to warm up for one of these things.

I looked (and was) like an ultra noob carrying around my Market Basket drop bag, while everyone else had plastic containers to store their drop “bags” throughout the course.

I was just going to rely on Lauren, and having some gear at the end of each 20 mile loop, to get me through the first 60 miles.

Everybody was huddled under the start/finish tent while waiting for the countdown to commence. I had already lost track of Dima who I was going to pace off of in order to try to break 20 hrs.

Mistake #2: Going into your first 100 miler with an unrealistic goal time in mind. My only goal should have been to finish and/or not die. Even finishing under the coveted 24 hrs should have been enough for me, but I got stupid.

I figured that the first loop should take me about 3.5 hrs to complete, so I told Lauren to expect me by 9:30AM.

I was in the very back of the entire pack when the race started, and the first few miles of trails could fit no more than three across, and the puddles made that even more difficult.

Of course I got antsy right away from walking and started passing people trying to bring my pace down to a more respectable 11 mins per mile. Not too fast, not too slow. Just plain stupid.

I got through the first 5 miles in a little under an hour, so I was pretty much on pace for 20 hours, and was happy that I didn’t go out too fast.

For whatever reason, I started breaking the entire race down into 5 mile increments, probably so that I didn’t have to think about running 100 miles, and gave myself an hour for each 5 mile section.

I went through the next 5 miles in 50 minutes, so I was already banking some time. Cha-ching!

The reward I gave myself at the end of each 5-mile interval was the chance to stop, take a break, and pee. Hey, it’s the little things that keep you going during these ultras.

Amazingly, and like Pavlov’s dog, I had the urge to pee at exactly 5 miles for the rest of the way. I’m not talking about a trickle either. Niagara Falls.

Aid stations were every 3 miles, except for one section where there was no aid for 6 miles. The aid stations were well stocked with everything you could want, except for a Segway. Drat!

I carried my water bottle with me for the entire race, and had salt tablets in one of the pockets.

Mistake #6: Don’t put salt tablets in a carrying case when it’s raining out.

I went to take my first salt tablet an hour into the race and it was all mush. I pretty much then just had to lick the salt off of my fingers. Probably more salt from sweat than actual salt from the tablets. Either way, it tasted like piss…wait a second….

The mud between miles 5-10 made it slow going and my shoes were completely caked in the shit. Socks and feet were soaked to the core, and I could already feel the rawness of the cold seeping in. I had a feeling that this was going to turn into another Finger Lakes 50 once everyone had had a chance to trounce through the mud. FL50 took me 9+ miserable hours to complete.

I felt better as the loop went along with only a few more patches of mud that I had to contend with the rest of the way. The rain eventually cleared about 2 hrs into the race and the sun was starting to come up. YAY! Humidity!

The second half of the first 20 mile loop was a lot faster with more people behind me than ahead. Splits were 1:49 and 1:38, respectively, for the first two 10 mile sections. The trails really opened up after the first 10, and I felt really at home as I made my way back to Lauren in less than 3.5 hours. I had 30 minutes + interest in the bank! I should have cashed in when I had the chance.

For whatever stupid reason, I hurried back out on the course for more punishment, quickly telling Lauren to expect me back in about 4 hours, and to have my other sneakers and socks ready. I decided to keep on the same pair of crap crusted sneakers and socks for one more loop. It couldn’t get much worse now that the rain had stopped. Or could it?

I now knew what to expect for the second round, so I felt more comfortable as I went over the same terrain, but now in daylight and no packs of walkers to navigate around. The ground was still saturated and the mud was worse, since the 50 milers were now out on the course and kicking up the same shit as the rest of us.

The looped coursed + having the 50 miler out there made it worse for something of this distance. Even though it was still early in the race, getting passed still sucked. By the end of my race I didn’t know if I was being passed by 10 hr 50 milers or 100 milers still on their 2^nd loop. It just got really demoralizing when you saw fresh faced, and legged, people having a blast while you’re ready to go hang yourself in the woods.

It took me 1 hr and 54 mins to cover the “slow” 10 miles between 20 and 30, and I went through the first 30 miles in 5 hrs and 21 mins, which was about 39 minutes below where I needed to be to hit 20 hours exactly.

I was ecstatic knowing that the next 10 miles was only going to be faster. In hindsight, I should have just kept up the same pace instead of trying to bank even more time.

I just couldn’t believe how fresh my legs felt from miles 35-40 as I headed back home to finish the second 20 mile loop under a slight drizzle. I was looking forward to putting on fresh socks and shoes.

Who would have thought that I was going to face the darkest and deepest moments of despair over the next 20 miles.

Oh dear lord.

Again it was raining, but not as heavy as earlier in the morning.

The temps had cooled off a bit as I sat down on the first thing I could find near the start/finish of the second loop, in this case, an overturned step ladder on the exterior of the aid station tent.

Lauren was patiently waiting for me and got me exactly what I had asked for: fresh socks and sneakers.

I was actually a little scared to take off my old pair of socks fearing what I would find, but it wasn't that bad once the socks slowly came off. The front pads of both feet were completely raw and wrinkled from the dampness, but not any worse for the wear.

My biggest worry going into Rocky were the two open cuts on the back of my heels. I had earned these open sores at the Spartan Race a week earlier in SoCal....

One Week Earlier

Lauren and I had the opportunity to head to SoCal to take part in the Spartan Race a week before Rocky, so we took advantage of the RaceMenu junket and went out west to see what this thing was all about.

Spartan isn't a Muddy Buddy or Warrior Dash. Spartan is a hardcore, 8-mile, military grade obstacle course in the heart and hills of SoCal whine country, designed by some crazy bastards.

Joe DeSena, one of the founders of the race, is as crazy as they come. He completed the Vermont 100, Badwater 135, and Lake Placid IronMan... all in the span of one week! Based on my calculations, that's pretty fucked up.

Team RaceMenu took part in the Hurricane Heat at 6AM before the actual race at 9AM. The heat is an untimed, team building exercise with the founders of Spartan Race.

I wore the oldest pair of sneakers I could find, since I knew we were going to march through some serious shit. We spent the better part of 2 hrs working as a team of twenty, carrying a metal barricade up and down a ridge, falling into said ridge a couple of times, going through waist high mud, and of course, making sure the fence didn't get dirty or else we would have to repeat the exercise all over again. I pitied the team that did this a couple of times.

I was pretty cold and cut up by the time the sun came up at 7AM, and only halfway through the exercise. Even with the California sun over my shoulder, I still couldn't stop myself from shivering. My breathing was out of control and I'm pretty sure I was close to hypothermia when they made us swim about 50 yards across a freezing lake.

(you may die)

Amazingly, both Lauren and I didn't feel any ill effects, considering we hadn't eaten anything all morning. Our pure adrenaline rush got kicked into another gear when the founders told us to just go run the 8-mile course after we were done with the Hurricane Heat. We would be the first ones to experience the virgin course.

We all took a 15 minute break before the entire Hurricane Heat group headed out to see what this Spartan Race was really all about. I got out in front with RaceMenu founder, Alain, with Lauren right behind us (sorry, Lauren!). Alain and I passed the lead runners early on and turned the first 3 miles into a very nice trail run.

This wasn't so bad.

My old pair of sneakers were doing just fine, but I should have taken the time to empty out all of the muck and grime during the brief break. What I didn't realize at the time was that my heels were being shredded to pieces by all of the sand in my socks.

The level of adrenaline coursing through me at the time was unbelievable, and it help block out any pains or injury I might have had. It's truly remarkable what the body can do when pushed to its limits.

Another Hurricane Heat runner had caught myself and Alain by the time we reached the first obstacles at mile 4 on the course. The first few obstacles were pretty tame, but it included a very low barb wire crawl, which Alain got snagged and slowed him down. This left me all alone to chase down the other runner over the next mile.

I eventually caught, then passed him, on one of the many hill climbs throughout the course. Once I cleared the hill I just let loose on the downside. I eventually managed to lose sight of both Alain and this other racer about a half mile later.

I was all alone out front so I took the liberty of skipping out on some of the obstacles, such as the sand dune run with a bucket of sand between your legs. I did run across the sand dunes, but when I got there the sand buckets were still being filled by the volunteers. Alain later told me that this obstacle was indeed the most difficult one out on the course. Lucky me.

The rest of the course after that involved some more trail running, crawling, and climbing. The wall climbs weren't that difficult as long as you took your time and didn't injure yourself on the drop. I even carried a car tire over my shoulder for about a quarter of a mile at one point. That was fun. That and climbing over a cargo net at the very top of a very steep climb. There were a lot of steep climbs, and a lot more bushwhacking, on the backside of the course. Nobody had been out here since they set up the course the day before, so I had the honor of drawing first blood on a number of the obstacles.

The most difficult, and most time consuming, obstacle for me was the rock pull. You had to pull a 30 lbs rock, tied to a 10 ft long rope, about 800 meters. That in and of itself isn't too difficult, but throw in some neck high, freezing lake water and you have yourself a recipe for possible death. There's a reason why they don't put the swim leg at the end of a triathlon.

These Spartan folks must have been really well insured, or not insured at all. This was insane.

The rock immediately sank to the bottom of the lake once I stepped in. The freezing water just got deeper and deeper and deeper with each step I took, and when I saw a boat trawling nearby, I knew I was going to be in over my head.

I was making really slow progress through the water with my 30 lbs friend. This was no volleyball named Wilson.

I could only get some slight footing on the rocks nearby, and they were too slippery for me to get any leverage in order to pull the rock along next to me.

My strategy then was to just swim a little further ahead and give the rock a nice, big tug. This worked well, for about 10 ft, before my submerged rock got snagged on some underwater branches. I waded in the water for about 5 minutes tugging and pulling, hoping to free it, but nothing was working.

My core body temperature was dropping fast, and I kept on thinking that Alain or the other runner would appear at any moment now to take over the lead, so close to the finish.

The useless "lifeguard" on shore was probably thinking that I was in trouble and was getting ready to jump in after me, and most likely drown the both of us in the process. I didn't want that to happen.

My legs began to cramp up, so I had to make a split second decision right then and there.

I took a deep breath and dove straight down to the rock and picked it up with my bare hands. I managed to free the rock from our watery grave and swim about 10 ft with it towards the shore.

At least the tough part was over now.

I dragged the rock another 50 yards on the beach before depositing it back where I found it before continuing onto the next obstacle and towards the finish.

Adding insult to injury, I got the worse crotch burn when I completed the rope climb near the finish.

I checked into medical right away and had them bandage up the cuts on my heel.

I just hope this heals in time and it doesn't affect me at Rocky next weekend....

Back to Reality - Mile 40

I took a quick peak at the cuts on my heals before putting on my knee high compression socks. There wasn't much blood in my old socks, so I took that as a positive sign that it wasn't going to get much worse. I wiped away the dirt from the area and proceeded to put on my new gear.

I told Lauren that the new sneakers made it feel like I was walking on clouds. Even though they were the same brand and fit, just having something new under my feet after 40 miles made a huge difference physically and mentally.

I was ready to go back out, but because of my fast finish from 35 to 40, I had earned an extra 8 minutes on top of the 30 minutes already in the bank, so I took my time. It was also just nice to be able to talk to someone at length other than the occasional "good job" and "keep it up" out on the course.

The one thing that I couldn't do was thank Lauren enough for being out there, in the wet and cold, for 7+ hours now. She had brought along a tent and sleeping bag, but I'm sure she wasn't getting much use out of it today. I could also tell that she was getting restless knowing that she had at least another 4 hour gap before seeing my pretty face again. I don't blame her since that's a long time to go without seeing my mug.

I instructed her to try to find some something decent to eat (not easy in Texas) and to stay dry and warm before I got back. Honey Badger being Honey Badger just told me to not worry about her, and she probably didn't give a shit anyways.

I wanted to make sure that she was ready to go since she was going to be my pacer for the rest of the night if I decided to continue on, and at this point, I had no doubt that I was going to finish this fucker. I had just done 40 miles and it wasn't easy, so I couldn't imagine trying to "run" 40 miles in the dark and cold after standing around for 12 hrs.

Having a pacer is critical at an ultra of this distance, especially if it's your first one. It's not uncommon for most first timers to get delirious in the middle of the night, in the middle of woods, and go off chasing fairies.

Lauren also handed me a new Garmin as the other one was flashing the low battery warning. My buddy IronBash let me borrow his Garmin 310XT, which was designed for triathlons, so it was supposed to last a good 20 hrs on one charge. I was definitely going to need every last drop of battery power if I was going to continue.

Before finally departing, Lauren got me some chicken soup for the ultra running soul. There is absolutely nothing better than drinking chicken soup soaked in sodium during an ultra. The warmth and salt goes right to where you need it most, your genitals.

The Buicide engine started up again and I chugged along over the next two miles at pretty much the same pace that I finished the last miles of the previous loop, 11 mins. I was happy with anything under 12 minutes, since I was currently averaging around 11 minutes overall and needed to keep my overall pace under 12 to stay within striking distance of 20 hours.

The new shoes were definitely helping, but I knew it would only be short-lived as the upcoming mud over the first 10 miles of the loop would negate any positive feelings that I was feeling now.

With the dying light of the day I was now more focused on watching my slow steps and making sure that I didn't stub my toes any further. By this point I had stubbed my toes four times on roots and rocks, each time feeling worse than the previous. I knew I was going to lose at least two toe nails, one on each foot, due to the stubbing.

Surprisingly though, I had only taken one bad trip and fall over the first 40 miles, and that was early on and on a flat section of the course. Go figure. It was around mile 15 when a friend of mine, who was running in the 50 miler, surprised me by yelling out my name when he was heading in the other direction. I knew Matt Carrol (Westford native) was out on the course, but I was so tuned out of everything that when he yelled my name I snapped to, looked back, and tripped on nothing more than a hump in the terrain. Doh!

Fortunately, the only thing bruised was my ego, and the other runners got a good laugh, so a win win all around.

The one major positive, if there is one, of being on a looped course was being able to see the leaders in the race more than once. It's just amazing to witness how relatively easy it is for them to be moving at the pace they're moving under the same conditions. I'm sure they were hurting in their own way, but it's still amazing nonetheless.

I saw Josh, also a fellow Masshole, move from 2nd to 10th, to 8th, and eventually 5th overall (15 hrs 35 mins) once everything was said and done.

Runners were dropping like flies by the 3rd loop, including the leaders. The top 3 females were all out by the 60th mile, and the defending champ from the prior year, Ian Sharman, was out by the 63rd mile due to hip flexor issues. The mud no doubt.

According to Lauren, the majority of the people dropping out and checking into medical were complaining of back issues and/or hypothermia.

I had been able to stave off hypothermia up until this point by continuously eating, taking plenty of fluids, and making sure that I was still able to sweat. This wouldn't be the case later in the night as the temperatures were dropping, and predicted to drop further into the upper 40's. Perfect running weather when you're moving, but deadly when you're just walking in a singlet.

I just had to keep moving as fast as I could to generate enough body heat. The mud wasn't helping.

Miles 45 to 50 seemed to take forever. I remember constantly thinking around mile 47 that I wasn't even halfway through with the race. I reminded myself that I had to do this all over again knowing that it was going to take me even longer, and be even more painful!

The negative thoughts were coming fast and furious, and there was nothing I could do to block it out.

I got through the first 10 miles of the 3rd loop in 2 hrs and 10 mins. This was definitely still within reason as I was giving myself about 2 hrs to complete each 10 mile interval.

However, I was starting to draw down on my line of credit with the time bank, and now had a little under 30 minutes of banked time to get under 20 hours. I knew, somewhere deep down inside, that 20 hours was totally out of reach and finishing should be my only goal.

Once I started to believe in this and forget about my time, my body felt 100% better and I started to move again towards the finish of the 3rd loop.

The highs and lows that you experience during an ultra is manic. Give up. Don't give up. Give up. Don't give up. You're basically out there alone, taking to yourself for an entire day and night. That gives you a lot of time to reflect on a lot of stuff. It's true what they say you learn about yourself over 26.2. Imagine over 100?

I was hoping for the home stretch boost over the final 5 miles of the 3rd loop, like I had experienced over the previous 2 loops, but it just wasn't happening.

My heavy legs were sputtering and my heart rate skyrocketed even on the simplest of hills.

I had my head down and basically just falling forward from miles 55-57. Tall runners were passing me and they were walking!

Matt Carrol passed me from behind one last time as he finished up his 50 miler and told me to just walk it out. I told him that I was probably finished. All he could muster was to tell me to try to go back out for a few more miles after the end of the loop. Then he was gone too.

I was in a dark place by mile 57 when I saw Dima head out for his 4th loop. He wasn't his cheery self and all that he could tell me to cheer me up was that it wasn't going to get much worse.

I knew he was lying.

To be honest, I just couldn't fathom going back out for another 40 miles at the pace that I was currently going. It would be miserable for both me and Lauren.

Like I said, you have a lot of time to reflect when you're out there alone.

I thought back to my best training run for this race. It was a 40 miler at 7:30 pace. To think that I would have to replicate that run, just in mileage, was mind boggling. That run took me through Tewksbury, Dracut, Lowell, Billerica, Bedford, and Lexington. I remember the conditions were perfect that day.

I looked down at my shoe covered in mud and let out a long sigh.

Was this really the end?

But then I started to Feel The Love from three weeks prior when we were all in Bermuda, competing in the Bermuda Triangle Challenge....

(feeling the love)

Three weeks prior to RR60, myself and a group of misfit runners from GLRR found our way to the beautiful island paradise of Bermuda...in the offseason.

To be honest, I forget how this whole thing came about, but we had been planning it for well over four months now.

It probably went like this:

FADE IN

Some point after San Francisco Marathon

Bulldog: Where should we go next?

Me: Bermuda Triangle Challenge.

Bulldog: OK.

Honey Badger: Suck my balls.

FADE OUT

From there it just transpired into a GLRR field trip worthy of a John Hughes credit.

Myself, El Presidente, Tiny Dancer, Honey Badger, Bulldog, Zornig, Benoit, Madden, Hedberg, Mamma Bui, and Pappa Bui were all here for the Triangle Challenge. The parental units were actually here to provide support and spending cash.

Everyone in the group, except Tiny Dancer and Zornig, was here to take on the Full Challenge (1 mile, 10k, Marathon). Zornig and TD were doing the Half Challenge, even though I almost managed to convince TD, over the span of six months, to sign up for the Full. I'll need to work on my brainwashing techniques for New Orleans '13.

We all took our respective flights down to the island and all arrived at the Grotto Bay Resort by 3PM on Friday the 13th....

We spent some time exploring our home for the next three days and discovered that it included a swimming hole. Really, it was a hole in the ground in a cave. See pic of me trying to molest Honey Badger above.

In a sign of Good Luck, we actually also had real angry chickens nesting at our hotel. As hard as I tried, I just couldn't bait them into running into the girls' room.

We eventually headed to packet pick up around 4:30ish Bermuda Time at the host hotel, down on Front St (basically on the other side of the island). The Mile race itself was also taking place on Front St at about 6:30PM that evening, so we carried all of our running and dancing gear with us.

I could already tell trouble was brewing as a harsh wind kicked up when we arrived at the Front St hotel.

There wasn't much left to do after checking in, but to hang out in the hotel lobby until race time. Some of us napped (El Presidente), some of us danced (The Girls), and the rest of us just laughed at the dancers.

The tropical trees outside the hotel were dancing too... as in swaying under gale force winds! Thank the running gods that it was only a mile race. It couldn't get much worse, could it?

Oh hell's yeah.

We started to warm up for the race on the mile course. Ever run a non-track mile with two sharp turns? Well, this was going to be a first for me.

The start and finish is basically in the middle of the course. After leaving the start area, you run down about 1/4th of a mile, turn around, head back to the start area, continue on for about another 1/4th mile, turn around, and come back into the finish.

The streets of Bermuda aren't that wide to begin with, so I was perplexed as to how they were going to do this race in five waves of about 100 runners each without defying the laws of physics. I definitely didn't envy the race timers tonight.

It started to lightly drizzle during our warmup, and the wind never let up. Fortunately, the temps were still in the mid 60's at race time, so it was comparable to being peed on while running. Not that I would know anything about golden showers...

The festive atmosphere was very charged with runners, revelers, and lightning! Oh my!

On a side-note, we discovered that the Brits love to chit-chat and unfortunately for us, we probably had the most talkative Brit on THIS island as the MC for the mile race. It was already 6:30PM and he was still talking about tea and crumpets!

Honey Badger and I were shivering from being peed on, I mean, rained on, and we couldn't figure out which wave we were supposed to run in. We weren't alone as other runners were just as confused as us, so we did take some solace in that fact and voiced our complaint just as well, and as obnoxious, as any of the other Americans there.

Since I know a little about race timing, I knew that it was critical for us to start in the correct wave or else our time would be completely off, and every second counts in a mile. I also didn't want to spend the next couple of days trying to get in touch with the timers to convince them that I didn't run a 15 minute mile.

We had a feeling that we belonged in the 2nd wave, so we positioned ourselves near the front of the mass of runners. I was still curious as to how this was all going to shake-out once the race got underway...if it ever did!

I swear the MC gave us a 40 second countdown that took over 5 minutes. It would have been nice if he actually spoke about the race and how the wave start worked, but it was just more tea, crumpets, and crimbo! Oh my!

And of course, the warm rain was now coming down in toilet size buckets, which was pissing me off. I was at least 2lbs heavier now than if I had started 5 minutes earlier.

It was 6:40PM by the time the first mile wave got the GO signal. Down, out, and back the wet runners went with a 5 minute gap between each wave.

The idea sounded absurd on paper, but the wave start was actually working...as long as you were in your right wave.

Honey Badger, Bulldog, El Presidente, myself, and I think everybody else on on the GLRR crew went out in the same second wave.

Let's just say that my entire 5 mins 33 sec run felt absolutely surreal and out-of-body. Rain, lightning, Bermuda, racing. FUN!

And this was only day one.

Mile Resluts

My goal at Bermuda was to win the Triangle Challenge outright. That was also Honey Badger's goal on the female side.

GLRR actually had folks entered into each race that could run away with the straight-up victory, age group win, or at least an AG placement. It's a good thing we packed light as I felt that we would be going home with a lot of hardware and swag by the time we got kicked off of the island.

Looking back at the prior year, the combined winning time for the men's full challenge was 3 hrs and 58 minutes. It was made up with a 6:15 mile (check), 43:47 10K (very doable), and a 3:12 marathon (doable).

My PR for the 10K up until this point had been 36:01 at James Joyce, so getting within the competitive level of last year's 10K time wasn't going to be a problem on Day 2. The same with the marathon time on Day 3.

Obviously, my problem was going to be who was running in this year's event.

Before departing for Bermuda I received an e-mail from Gary, my boss at Outside Interactive, introducing me to Justin Renz. Gary knew Justin through his running club and introduced us because he knew we were both competing in the full challenge. I also later found out that Justin was under the tutelage of none other than Reno Stirrat.

The plot thickens.

I did a quick online creep search for Justin and discovered that he ran 2:43 at Boston in the same year that I busted a nut breaking 2:50. Some of his more recent races were closer to what I had managed. He was only 7 seconds behind me at the James Joyce 10K in 2011. Small world.

HB and I did some more homework and checked out the online results for the mile. This gave us a good indication of who was in what race, and how we stacked up, even though it was only the mile race and would be a poor indicator of how they would fare over the remaining two events.

I noticed that Justin had a pre-lim mile time of 9+ minutes. That meant that he either ran with two broken legs or he had taken off in the wrong wave. My guess was that he was in the wrong wave, and that his time would be easily corrected by the timers soon enough. I'm sure the timers weren't getting much sleep tonight either.

We noticed some other names in there for the full challenge, with competitive mile times, but the online connectivity in the hotel sucked, so we weren't able to investigate much further.

Just based on the email from Gary, I knew that my target for the rest of the weekend was going to be Justin. If I could beat him, then I could win the challenge.

The Bermudaful morning couldn't come soon enough.

And what a Bermudaful morning it was.

The wind and rain from the previous day had died down, and there were some hints of sunshine for the day.

Humidity was definitely in the air as we woke up early, got breakfast, and took a bus over to the National Stadium for the start and finish of the 10K race. It was already 60 degrees with the temps expected to climb closer to 70 for the day.

Once again we had to take everything we would need with us as it was at least a 30 minute trip, one-way, to get to the stadium from our hotel.

We arrived by 9AM for the 10AM start, so we just hung around the quiet stadium, took pictures, warmed up, and talked to the other runners that were arriving.

It was pretty cool scene, almost like out of a movie, to be able to hang out in the stadium as runners and spectators were filing in. The air again was being charged by the racing atmosphere. I could definitely get use to this.

I eventually ran into Justin and introduced myself. I could tell that he had done a little homework on me as well. I was a little shocked when Justin told me outright that he was gunning for a 42 minute 10K. Was this gamesmenship on his part?

I, of course, just told him that I was looking to run at a comfortable pace. In actuality, I was looking to run a 38 minute 10K to give myself a little cushion against Justin on Day 3. The 10K was probably my best opportunity to gain some significant time on Justin, especially now I that I knew he was looking to run about 4 minutes slower than me. If we run similar times in the marathon, it would be nice to know that I had this cushion on him.

Justin also told me that he was never able to run a strong long run the day after running a hard 10K, so that was another reason why he was going to go out easy on this supposedly tough 10K course. In my training, partly for Rocky Raccoon, I had done 20 milers followed by 36 milers on back-to-back days, and didn't have any issues, especially with recovery, so I figured that a 10K wouldn't be that bad even if I went out too hard.

There were some other interesting storylines in the works on Day 2.

Honey Badger was still in the running for the overall victory, and she was going to shoot for a 42-44 minute 10K to keep her hopes alive.

El Presidente was hoping to win his AG in the challenge by taking down local legend, Ronnie Wong. Wong is a marathon and ultra junkie who had been racing in Bermuda for over 25 years. Everybody knew Ronnie. It was hard not to since he loved talking about his accomplishments. If you ever come across Ronnie in your travel, then don't ever make the mistake of asking Ronnie about his running resume, unless of course you had a few hours to spare. Good guy, Ronnie, but damn, does he like to talk.

We had all moved out of the stadium and onto the side street by 9:50AM to line up for the start of the 10K.

I positioned myself next to Justin near the front of the pack, and the rest of the GLRR crew were right behind me in the tight start group.

There was much less fanfare, and British humor, with this start and everything went off on time.

I quickly got into a nice rythym and got comfortable for the 6.2 mile trek. Justin immediately fell off of my left shoulder and I didn't see him again for the rest of the race.

The weather was pretty ideal for racing, 60 degrees with overcast skies and the threat of light showers. This was like running on a late summer day back home in Mass.

I zoned out from the start and really didn't take in much of the scenery on the course. I just stayed in control and slowly reeled in any runners that went out too hard. This is always fun in a race.

I went through the first two miles in about 12 minutes, and mile 3 in 6:10. The 10K course for the most part was rolling and I kept in mind that part of the marathon course was going to run through the same area.

There was rumor of a ginormous hill near the end of the race, so I took advantage of the early downhills as much as I could.

Mile 4 ended up being my fastest mile with a 5:51 split. I eased up through mile 5 with a 6:05 in order to gather myself for the hill finish.

I was currently on pace to be right at 38 minutes.

The last mile started with a climb, which I assume was the hill that everybody was talking about. I looked up ahead and could see that it was indeed a formdiable challenge this late into the race.

Also ahead was a female runner. She looked strong and was probably either in the top 3, or more likely, the leader of the 10K females.

I targeted her and the top of the hill.

We were neck and neck as we crested the hill. I gave one last push on the dwonside to finally pass her. She stuck right with me. Hell of a runner.

Together we worked on trying to catch the two males about 50 yards in front of us, but we were running out of real estate. We saw them make the right hand turn into the stadium for the track finish.

10 seconds later we made the same turn and I made a mad dash for the finish. She fell back a bit over this final kick, but I was determined to get as close as possible to the male runners.

I crossed the line, stopped my watch, and finished with a time of 38:01. Right on target and feeling pretty good.

I walked out of the finish area and towards my parents when all of sudden, my right hamstring seized up on me.

(Ronnie and El President)

Turning Point

2012-02-02T10:49:00.000-08:00

Dear Reader,

I recently deactivated my Facebook profile in an attempt to go back to the basics. To a time when I didn't know what every body was up to, and every body knowing what I was up to. I have to admit, though, that I did get a thrill when I received comments and "likes" on my running accomplishments. It's human nature to want that encouragement and acknowledgement that your hard work paid off. It fed my ego. In fact, my ego got so big that it started hurting the people around me. I was beginning to use Facebook to get back at those that "did me wrong". To rub it in their faces. It was getting out of hand and I was addicted. I'm sure my enlarged ego played a part in the eventual collapse of my four year marriage to Rachel. We had been together for over seven years and I didn't do much serious running for about two of those years. Once I got hooked though, there was nothing that was going to stop me. I wouldn't stop running. I wouldn't step down as GLRR treasurer. I wouldn't stop caring about what others said about me on Facebook. I stopped listening to Rachel. That was the beginning of the end of that relationship. The single biggest mistake I've ever made, and I'll live with that regret for the rest of my life.

So, what was the final straw? It all started with the GLRR Bermuda trip. We pretty much had no (Internet) connection to the outside world while we raced on that island paradise. When I returned, I realized that it was actually refreshing to not check in on Facebook every few minutes, and to update others on what I was doing. What would it be like to break free of Facebook for good? I was almost certain it would be like trying to end a very bad habit: tough but manageable.

Then, two weeks after Bermuda, I was out in SoCal for the Super Spartan race with RaceMenu and Honey Badger. Let's just say that I fucked up royally and probably forever screwed up my great relationship with Honey Badger over the span of 24 hours. I did and said some things to HB that I will, once again, live with regret for the rest of my life. Trust me, this is going to be a common theme on these posts.

After returning from one of the most tiring, awkward, and tensioned filled road trips that I've ever taken, I decided that I needed to make a change to my life. Facebook was the first thing to go.

Its been about four days since I've disconnected myself from The Facebook, with the first few days a little rough, almost like going through withdrawal. I was constantly thinking about what others were planning, doing, and saying on Facebook. I still get the urge once in awhile to try to log back in, but I'm not giving in.

My current plan is to just focus on work, friends, family, and, of course, my training to help me make this change in my life.

I have the Rocky Raccoon 100 miler coming up this weekend, then onto Boston. Great Cranberry Island 50k in July, and then I hope to finish my first half Ironman later this year (Timberman), and then start training for Lake Placid IM in 2013.

Between training and racing, I'm also working to help get RaceMenu and Outside Interactive officially out of the start up stage and into legit businesses. So far, so good.

My full time job as Treasury Analyst at Avid is also keeping me busy these days, but having a great boss like Anthony sure makes things whole lot easier.

I hope to be able to use this blog as an outlet for some of that excess energy that I'm sure I'll have as my ego deflates and I become normal again.

In closing, I just wanted to post an open apology to Honey Badger for my actions, and inactions, over the Spartan weekend. I hope that one day we can be good friends again. Please pass this message onto to her if any of you readers run into that crazy, don't give a shit girl. Apparently, she did give a shit.

Sincerely,

Jason Buicide

Revenge of the Angry Chicken

2011-12-13T19:52:00.000-08:00

If you haven't heard my story its short and sweet. I trained to run Boston, my first marathon, this April and ran 3:45. Although good for a first marathon, I hungered for a better time. I thought I trained hard for Boston. This summer I showed I took it easy for Boston. I set out to qualify for Boston under the standards of 3:10. During the summer I ran more than I thought I ever would. I ran hills, I ran tempos, I ran long, I even had a 70 day streak averaging 10 a day.

I picked the "easiest" marathon I could find before the registration date in Pocatello Idaho. I had a hell of a PR of 3:16. And so “the Pocatello Kid” was born. And although I should have been happy with the results, there was something still itching that I could of done better. That I choked. Among people I train with, going into the race it wasn't whether I would run a sub 3:10 marathon, it was how much under 3:10 it would be. The only one who didn't believe it was myself.

Post Pocatello I changed things up. I had plans to run another marathon, but I was going to change my philosophy. First off, no pressure of trying to peak for a certain race. I was going to try to have the marathon fit in when I was at my peak. Would it be Baystate, Cape Cod, Roxbury, who knows. Since it was for myself and not for any qualifying standards, no one needed to know my plans. This would keep the pressure off. Third, I was going to train to run FAST (well at least according to my standards).

I typically run around 7:40s per mile unless it is track or a tempo workout. Long are even slower. Recovery even slower. Mentally, the discrepancy between that pace and running a marathon at 7:15 has always been a challenge for me. Not only is a marathon longer than any distance you would train at but it is faster. All conventional wisdom says this training style works and it probably does. But I planned to change the rules.

I decided going forward that every run I could possibly get under 7:15 pace, would be under 7:15 pace. Even if I couldn’t get it under I would try. If I could run sub 7, then even better. 6:30 pace for 6 or 8 miles ok perfect. I put no governor on what speed I would run at. I stopped fearing track and tried to keep up with the fast kids. I brought my monthly average pace from the typical 7:30-7:40 down to 7:18s. At first even I thought I was crazy. But then it became my easy pace. I would go out for an 8 mile run at low 7s and it just felt like a conversational pace. Then I ran Mill City Relay the 9.5 leg at a 6:20 pace and I knew it was time for a marathon.

I was heading to DC for a conference on Employee Benefit Audits (wait to you see my write up on this conference) and there was a race I found in Delaware that Bui could get me into on late notice. Rehoboth Beach Marathon. Perfect. I was all in. My sister and my niece came for the trip which was even better.

Going into the race, I had little worry that I couldn’t average 7:15s for the first 20. In Pocatello I did it for the first 22. The question was when the 20 mile warm up was over could I mentally still race a 45 minute 10K. When the race started, I knew I had to keep the pace slow even though any pace would feel easy. I ran a real structured beginning of the race keeping a very close eye on my pace. I kept thinking about how many times I heard people say “take it slow the first half”. The first 20 miles pacing was a work of beauty. You would almost think I was running with a pace group. The course was hell of windy but because it was out and back it didn’t seem to factor.

Then the race began. I kept telling myself how this what people always say that the last 10k IS THE RACE. Well what people fail to mention is how you feel like hell at this part. Your knees hurts, your breathing is heavy, you have so much lactic acid in your legs it is pouring out of your ears. I kept telling myself “hold the pace for one more mile. 23 and 24 I struggled but the wheels never came off, I never hit the wall (Even though I was hardly diligent about Gu or water) At 25 we were coming up a trail to get back to the main road in Rehoboth and I was chipping off the half marathoners who had not finished and a few marathoners. I don’t want to be the chipper, but it felt nice to chip rather than be chipped for once in a longer distance race. In fact I don’t think anyone passed me in the last 12 miles of the race.

I crossed the finish line at 3:04:30. I had one of those blackout moments where you scream and you don’t even know what your saying something along the lines of I cant believe it. A volunteer walked over “ I know your very excited but you should put the tin foil on its cold.”

This race is why we run. It’s not to set PR’s, win races, or qualify. It is to do something you thought wasn’t possible.100 years ago people thought you were likely to die from running a marathon. 40 years ago it was believed women couldn’t run marathons. Now millions of people flock to these races to do something they didn’t think was possible. Two years ago I set out to run a marathon. I never had ambitions to run this time. I thought Sub 4 would be amazing. Even when I stepped on the line I was thinking at best 3:09:59.

And to think this all started like Forest said “One day I decided to go for a little run….”

Iron Bash Man

2011-11-23T07:43:00.001-08:00

To hell with my MCM write-up that I will never finish anyways. Here's the abridged version: Garmin strap broke off at the start; held the Garmin for the entire race (hands eventually went numb); lost satellite signal at mile 19 near the Capitol Building (hmmm), chased down a few runners near the end, and finished 82nd overall in 2:49:16 for a marathon PR.

Without further ado, here's Bash's IMAZ write-up:

Training for Ironman Arizona was like nothing I had ever done before.

5AM runs, go to work, hop on the bike until it got dark, and then go to the gym and swim and sometimes run again after that. Getting home after 9PM made for a very long day during the week. Weekends consisted of long bike rides and long runs.

I chose this particular race for a few reasons, and mainly, I have two really good friends in Arizona and my fiance’s brother goes to school in AZ, so I knew I would have a lot of friends and family in town for support. I flew down with my fiancé and best friend (Seth), and my fiance’s parents flew down right before the race.

I guess I’ll begin with the practice swim the day before.

I brought both my full sleeve and sleeveless wetsuits with me as it was supposed to be cold in the water. I haven't used my full sleeve wetsuit since last year.

I put my wetsuit on and started making my way to the water, jumped in, and could NOT breathe! I took a couple of minutes and tried kicking and moving my arms in order to warm up. It helped a little, but it took me a good 10 minutes to actually warm up, and even then, I was still freezing in the water.

I got out of the water and decided I wasn’t even going to try the sleeveless wetsuit as I needed the extra warmth of the full sleeve. I was petrified.

Got back to the hotel after the practice swim and was checking in my bike when I began to freak out a little about the swim. How was I going to swim 2.4 miles in freezing water? I decided to shut off my phone and just try to relax for the rest of the day.

My alarm clock on race morning went off at 4:15AM. I actually slept very well, which was a big surprise. Ashley’s brother was picking us up at 4:50AM, and he would be dropping me off at the race site.

I got dropped off, found my bike, pumped the tires, and did all the pre-race stuff. I then found a bench at about 6AM and, again, tried to relax.

Slowly I put on my wetsuit and at about 6:30AM and eventually got in the swim in line. I got in the back of line to enter the water as I didn’t care about starting in the back. By the time I got to the jump in spot, the guy was yelling, "hurry up!".

The swim start was about 200 yards up, so I jumped in. The same feeling that I had yesterday during the practice swim took hold of me again! I couldn’t breathe! I couldn’t even put my head under water as my entire body was still adjusting to the cold water. I eventually made my way to the official start of the swim.

The sound of the cannon caught me by surprise and I hurled myself forward along with the other bodies in the water. I tried to do a lot of sighting and avoid contact with the other swimmers, but it was impossible. I may have started too far back, and there was a lot of kicking and punching early on. I was struggling to get into a swim rhythm because of the crazy start, but after maybe 10 to 15 minutes of full body contact swimming, the insanity stopped for the most part.

Off in the distance I could see the Bridge, which is the turn around point on the 2.4 mile swim course. The bridge, given it's size, looks a lot closer than it really is. Fortunately, the first half of the swim, other than the start, was pretty uneventful. By the time I got to the turn around point I looked at my watch and it read 40 minutes. Awesome! My 1.2 mile swim PR is 40 minutes.

I started my way back out for the second half of the swim, and headed towards the Bridge once again. And once again, this bridge looked a lot closer than it really was. I went under the Bridge for the final time, and took the last turn to the get out point. It was a great sight to see. I never really thought I was going to finish the swim until I took that first step out. The day before I was really scared, and even the first 10-20 minutes of the swim I wanted out.

I slowly jogged out of the water and a wetsuit stripper helped me get out of my wetsuit. It felt so good to get out of the water, since it was so cold and the sun was finally starting to rise.

I originally figured that the swim would take me an hour and half, and my official time was 1:36 for 2075 place and 125th in my AG.

I ran to the transition tent with my wetsuit in hand and saw Ashley first, then Elissa and her daughter yelling at me. A volunteer gave me my bike bag and I went into the changing tent. I am usually really fast in transitions, but I took my time in this one. My feet were shaking so I tried to relax and get my socks, helmet, number, and bike shoes on properly. I was finally ready to go and a volunteer gave me my bike and I was off like a rocket.

I saw some more friends and family at the beginning of the bike, which gave me a huge boost.

The bike course is a 3-loop out and back. It's a gradual increase in elevation on the way out, and a decrease in elevation on the way back in. Heading out I was right on the pace I wanted with 3:10 to 3:30 per mile, and I felt like I was hardly working!

Got to the turnaround point in the first loop and it was really downhill on the way back. I even hit 2:08 for one mile, and averaged well over 20mph! I thought the ride was going to be really easy! I decided that that was going to be my strategy for the remainder of the bike. Stay within myself to the turnaround and crush it on the way back in.

I saw more friends and family after each loop, which helped tremednously.

The second loop started the same as the first one. I felt good and it didn't feel like I was pushing harder than I had to. I got to the turnaround point and, of course, the wind picked up. Nice. I was unable to fly back down like I did during the first loop for the next two. This sucked.

I might have had a chance at sub 6 or sub 5:50 if the wind wasn’t there, but you just tell yourself that everyone out here has to deal with the same conditions, so suck it up.

Like the swim, much of the the bike was pretty uneventful.

I saw some other athletes from New Engalnd with TriFury jerseys on, so I would talk to them quickly in passing. I met a women from New Hampshire and a guy from Wilmington, MA.

I was also making sure to get in my nutrition. I had eaten about 7 GU’s, 2 PBJ sandwhiches, 2 cliff blocks, and a lot of Gatorade and water.

At about mile 90 of the bike, I started to do the math in my head. If I pushed I could get sub 6 on the bike.

At this point I decided to get ready for the run, and didn't want to push too hard in order to save myself for the run.

I was also thinking about my overall time and knew that I would be in the range of 11 hours total time, unless I really blew up on the run. Sub 11, which was not a goal of mine, was out of range unless I ran a sub 3 marathon.

I made sure I stretched during the last few miles of the bike, and tried to get in my last bit of nutrition to help me fuel for the run (if only I had pancakes).

My overall bike split was 6:03:45, which was 1378th place and 98th in my AG.

I got off of the bike and my legs were, not surprisingly, a little wobbly. Jogged to the changing tent and patted some younger athlete on the back. He looked like he was hurting off of the bike and was walking to the tent. He had number 18 on his calf indicating that he was only 18. I gave him some words of encouragement and got my run gear on and headed to the run out.

I came out of T2 and was once again flying!

My heart rate monitor was on and I made sure I stayed in the low 170's. I didn’t want to push early on and the monitor helped me stay in control for the most part.

Again, I saw friends and family as I made my way out for the first mile. My legs felt shaky, but I knew the feeling would soon pass and I was used to this feeling from my long brick workouts.

The run course is a 3-loop figure 8, which was great for spectators and also for the athletes. I would see my friends and family 3 to 4 times per loop!

I got to about mile 5 and my legs were starting to loosen up. I heard some foot steps behind me and knew someone was trying to keep pace. I looked back and saw an elite female. I asked her what lap she was on, and she said it was her 3rd, but she was hurting. I told her to stick with me and we made small talk.

At this point my legs felt good and I was running at a more comfortable 7:40-7:50 per mile pace, and my legs felt fine for the most part. I had done my long bricks in the 7:30 range, but never biked as hard by myself before. I having a sense of false hope for a faster marathon.

I ran with the elite female until the split and she told me she was going to PR, but would miss out on the money. This was her 11th Ironman. She thanked me and wished me luck. I joked and asked if she wanted to run 2 more loops.

During the second loop, at about mile 13, I noticed that my nutrition bag of GU’s and salt had fallen out of my pocket. I went past an aid station, but they were cluster fucks. They were giving out Gatorade, water, cola, sponges, GU, and powerbars. I stopped and walked thru one at about mile 15 because I realized that it would be too difficult for me to run through and grab everything that I needed.

I only walked 4 to 5 times through the aid stations and I wasn’t happy about it, but I was starting to get really hungry.

Got done with the second loop and was starting to get excited. The sun was starting to set and to think that I had outlasted the sun today! I started swimming when it was rising and now its going down. I took off my sunglasses and continued to put one foot in front of the other.

The last loop was pretty uneventful. I was slowing down, but I never hit the wall like you sometimes do in a marathon.

A lot of people were walking and no one was really passing me. My pace had slowed to about 9 minutes per mile. Looking back I think the walking through the aid stations and trying to start up again took a lot out of my legs. Oh well, it was my first one and I didn’t care, I just wanted to finish.

I saw the Mile 24 marker and pressed on and started making my way back to the main area. Saw Mile 25 and my legs felt OK!

This is about where I lost it.

I couldn’t believe I was going to make it. I thought about so much that last mile. My parents, family, and friends flashed through my head.

My amazing fiancé for putting up with me and my training over the last year and being so supportive.

Seth, my best friend, that flew down with me and was always so loud and intense on the course. He also was getting up with me at 5AM to run and he’s a newbie.

My clients, especially Lynn and Flea who are always very supportive of me and help keep me sane.

My running buddies from GLRR, most notably EJ, Sully, Bui, Fil, Glenn, Frank, Eric and everyone else that pushes me on a weekly basis.

You have all helped get me here.

Sully would go on 20 mile runs with me and hes not even training for anything.

Bui went on a Bashicide, which consisted of a 100 mile ride and 20 mile run and he had never rode more than 60 miles before, and it was also 30 degrees out!

EJ introduced me to the hills in my back yard, and let me chase him at track.

I thought about how far I had come.

I thought about the first time I was in the pool 2 ½ years ago and I was doggy paddling. I couldn’t swim 50 yards without gasping for air.

I thought about that first swim clinic I went to and not making it 100 yards out and back. Having to grab onto the kayak.

I thought about the hours I had put on the bike. The hours out running and especially those weekend mornings that I was up early to start working out.

I thought about the other triathlons I had done and marathons.

This lasted for a good half mile and I was starting to get emotional. I snapped out of it at the split where it says left for finish and right for another lap.

I started to pick it up here and passed one guy at Mile 26. I didn't want be "that guy", so I patted him on the back and said good job. He told me to finish strong. I took his advice and passed him.

I saw Seth to the right of me yelling again as he is always intense. He jogged with me for about 20 yards and then let me go.

I was wondering if it would be a cluster at the finish, but it wasn’t. Just a lot of loud cheering and no other athlete was near me. I really took it in as much as I could during that last mile and finally crossed the finish line. I then heard my name over the loud speaker and the words declaring that I was now an Ironman!

I bent over and held onto my knees. It's an amazing feeling that cannot be described.

A volunteer helped me move forward and take my chip. I saw Seth first and gave him a hug, then Ashley’s parents. I finally saw my number one fan, Ashley, and she was crying.

This could not have happened without her full support.

My final time was 11:44:55 with a 3:45:22 marathon.

My overall place was 682 out of 2500 and my AG rank was 69/160.

I got my phone soon after the race and was completely overwhelmed by the support and love from friends and family though voicemails, text messages, and Facebook.

I will do another Ironman, but not for at least another two years, perhaps longer. I want to work on my swim and bike. I learned a whole lot about myself during this cycle. The training, and the actual race, and especially what I am capable of through this experience.

BIB AGE STATE/COUNTRY PROFESSION
1108 29 Arlington MA USA Miscellaneous
SWIM BIKE RUN OVERALL RANK DIV.POS.
1:36:51 6:03:45 3:45:21 11:44:55 682 69

LEG DISTANCE PACE RANK DIV.POS.
TOTAL SWIM 2.4 mi. (1:36:51) 2:32/100m 2075 125

BIKE SPLIT 1: 37.4 mi 37.4 mi (1:56:16) 19.30 mi/h
BIKE SPLIT 2: 74.6 mi 37.2 mi (2:03:21) 18.09 mi/h
BIKE SPLIT 3: 112 mi 37.4 mi (2:04:08) 18.08 mi/h
TOTAL BIKE 112 mi (6:03:45) 18.47 mi/h 1378 98

RUN SPLIT 1: 2.5 mi 2.5 mi (19:04) 7:37/mi
RUN SPLIT 2: 11.5 mi 9 mi (1:10:37) 7:50/mi
RUN SPLIT 3: 20 mi 8.5 mi (1:18:14) 9:12/mi
RUN SPLIT 4: 26.2 mi 6.2 mi (57:26) 9:15/mi
TOTAL RUN 26.2 mi (3:45:21) 8:36/mi 682 69

TRANSITION TIME
T1: SWIM-TO-BIKE 11:33
T2: BIKE-TO-RUN 7:25

I leave you with one last quote from the excellent book "Iron War":

"In the hardest moments of a long race, the athlete's entire conscious experience of reality boils down to a desire to continue pitted against a desire to quit. Nothing else remains. The athlete is no longer a student or a teacher or a salesman. He is no longer a son or a father or a husband. He has no social roles or human connections whatsoever. He is utterly alone. He no longer has any possessions. There is no yesterday and no tomorrow, only now. The agony of extreme endurance fatigue crowds out every thought and feeling except one: the goal of reaching the finish line. The sensations within the body-burning lungs, screaming muscles, whole body enervation- exist only as the substance of the desire to quit. What little of the external environment the athlete is aware of-the road ahead, the competitor behind, the urgings of onlookers-exist only as the substance of the desire to continue. The desire to continue versus the desire to quit-the athlete is this and this alone until he chooses one or the other. And when the choice is made he briefly becomes either preserving or quitting until, after he has stopped at the finish line or, God forbid, short of it, the stripped-away layers are piled back on and he becomes his old self again. Only not quite. He is changed, for better or worse."

MCM - Running On Borrowed Time

2011-11-06T19:23:00.000-08:00

I looked down at my Garmin 305 still resting in my hand, this time it was in the right one. My left hand was still holding onto the GU packet that I had opened up at around Mile 13. It was now almost Mile 18.

The GU experiment appeared to be working.

I had manage to tick off 5 straight miles at 6:25 pace while nibbling on the GU, taking only a small sliver of GU every time I felt my energy waning. This allowed me to take the thick GU without water, and to allow it to digest in my system easily. It also prevented me from having the common spike and crash of taking an entire packet of GU all at once.

The flatness of this portion of the MCM course was also helping with my steady pace. The pack of familiar runners around me had just cruised down the beautiful Potomac, and we were now heading towards the heart of our nation, the heart of the National Mall.

(well, it does resemble an organ. just sayin'.)

My overall pace was creeping up towards 6:20, which was still below my target pace of 6:22 for the entire run. A 6:20 pace would have me arriving at the top of the Iwo Jima Memorial in a little over 2 hrs and 46 minutes after Drew Carey fired the start cannon, and about one minute ahead of my projected schedule.

Was this going to be possible?

I was still feeling really strong, and my legs were hardly tired. The only bothersome quirks were in my feet and, for reasons you will find out later, in my hands.

I had always been told that the MCM road surface is very hard and unforgiving. I guess when you build a road for troop transports, tanks, and Humvees, you kind of have to make it hard and unforgiving. The aching in the sole of my feet were proof positive of those founded rumors.

To explain the pain in my hands I would have to start from before the start, but that's a story for another time.

Oooh-rah!

2011-10-24T18:55:00.000-07:00

The mission at Marine Corp is to run sub 2:47 (6:22 ave pace).

I'll be using the blue print from my run at Boston to help me get there:

Like Boston, I'll be breaking this mission down into more manageable 5K intervals.

At Boston, they were 20 minute 5K's the entire way to hit 2:49:58. At MCM, it'll look more like this:

For those keeping track at home, the 5K intervals look like this:

5K: 20:35

10K: 19:32

15K: 19:32

20K: 19:32

25K: 19:32

30K: 19:34

35K: 19:50

40K: 20:03

Leaving me about 8 mins and 48 seconds to cover the final 1.3639 miles after the 40K mark.

If all goes to plan, then this will make for a +1 second positive split and a marathon PR.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

I'll see you on this side or the other.

Over and out.

DING! DING!

2011-09-23T10:44:00.000-07:00

I started to get real cocky at Mile 24 when I felt that I had sub-3 in the bag. I started giving high fives to my adoring fans (or lack thereof).

The problem with a 5:30AM marathon start is that the natives are still sleeping, even when you're almost done! There was hardly any crowd support during the race for the front runners, so you just made do with whatever was out there in San Francisco at this ungodly hour. Let's just say that I couldn't post the pictures that I found when I did a google search for something funny to post for this section.

I went through the 24 mile mark in 2:44, giving me roughly a little under 16 minutes to cover the remaining 2.2 miles. All I had to do was average about 7:15 to be right under the wire with a few a seconds to spare.

I went through a windy Mile 25 at a 7:14 clip with a total elapsed time of 2:51:54.

OK. This might be close, but I think I've still got this. I started doing the math in my head.

8 minutes to cover 1.2 miles....that's if I still had 1.2 miles to go!

Based on my past marathoning experience, and the fact that the mile markers had been off by about .10 all day, I knew that the actual distance left was going to be closer to 1.3 miles!! That .10 is going to take me at least 35 seconds!

DAMN!!

I started to really pick it up over the final mile, but the head wind along the water front, and behind PacBell Park, was making the task that much harder.

I could hear the announcer off in the distance calling out the finishers' name and time. I listened as the first four females crossed the finish line, with the 4th place female crossing in 2:58:42.

Oh boy.

I had less than a half mile to go.

I was sprinting like a mad man, spittle all over my face, passing a few marathoners, and a big pack of the 5K'ers doing their charity walk. I'm sure I frightened more than one kiddy out there trying to have a good time.

"Mom, what's wrong with that man?"

And then I heard the announcer clearly say, "And there's our last runner under 3 hours because I don't see anyone else coming."

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

I still had .10 to go.

35 seconds later, I crossed the line in 3:00:35.

Lesson learned.

I waited around as the rest of the crew finished.

Fil F: 3:33
Lauren L: 3:55 (with beer in hand)
Yvette N: 6:21 (first marathon!)
Brian S: 7:09
Cara S: 6:09
Amanda B (Half): 1:59 (first half!)
Yung N (Half): 2:09 (first half!)

If you're curious, then here's how you pace yourself to a 3-hr marathon:

Rice A Roni!

2011-09-14T21:31:00.000-07:00

The leaders quickly dashed to the front and disappeared into the dark morning. I was left to fend for my self amongst the elite female runners. Well, somebody had to do it.

My plantar was behaving nicely even though I didn't give it much of a warm up this morning. I figure not warming up would force me to take it out slow and easy at the start. I was shooting for sub-3 (secretly, sub-2:50), so my overall average pace had to be no slower than 6:51.88, give or take 38 god damn seconds.

With that goal pace in mind I definitely started out way too fast with the first 5 miles around 6:40 average. This was more indicative of a sub-2:50 mindset based on my run at Boston.

The hills began around 2.7 and didn't let up for the rest of the race. If we weren't going up, then we were going down. It was a merciless assault on the quads and hamstrings for 26.2 miles.

The centerpiece of the race came early at mile 6 as we made the 3 mile trek out, across, and back over the Golden Gate Bridge. It was barely light out when I got onto the bridge, and of course it was windy. I was too zoned out to enjoy the scenery, but it was pretty damn cool to see the endless stream of runners as we turned around and headed back into San Francisco proper. Hi, Fil! Hi, Lauren!

(chick getting chicked)

(before she started hydrating)

Also, with the out and back I was able to guesstimate that I was in the top 30 at the moment, but there was still plenty of race left to go for me to completely crash and burn in Buicide fashion.

The hills continued as we dropped off of the bridge and then climbed back up and into Golden Gate Park via the Presidio.

I was feeling OK, not great, but OK as I crossed the convoluted (they make you loop around the park a couple of times) half-marathon mark in 1:28. I knew for sure at this point that sub-2:55 was out of the question, and that sub-3 might also be in jeopardy based on the way I usually run positive split marathons, especially when I'm not in 100% running shape....like always.

My legs were feeling really, really heavy and beat up when I finally exited Golden Gate Park at mile 19 and onto Haight St. I eventually crossed over Haight and Ashbury at mile 19.5, which was pretty far out, man.

Haight is as straight as an arrow, unfortunately, it's a broken arrow. Little did I know that this was waiting for me and my dead legs at Mile 20...

(it's the 3rd video)

Enjoy watching my demise as I head towards the finish in a flame of glory....

The San Francisco Treat

2011-09-10T20:55:00.000-07:00

I could still feel the welt on my left shin from the bike accident from two weeks prior as I toed the starting line at the San Francisco Marathon with Fil, Lauren, Yvette, Brian, and Cara. Amanda and Yueng were doing the half-marathon today (wise decision).

Everything on this early morning felt like a dream. Actually, it was only 5AM, so I could have been still dreaming back in my cozy bed, with Fil next to me, at the hotel. YIKES! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!

With all that seriousness aside, I finally snapped to and came to the realization that I was about to run another friggin' marathon. My first one since Boston. It wasn't just any marathon though, it was the San Francisco F'n Marathon! And any marathon that advertises itself as being "Worth The Hurt" gets a nod in my blog.

I had no idea what I was capable of doing today as far as performance was concerned. My longest and basically only run since Boston was the Finger Lakes 50 miler, and that was a month ago. I felt like I was in sub-3 hour shape, but that's on a bike since that's about all I've been doing in order to get ready for this run. Well, that was before Death intervened and spared my life, only taking my bike and a piece of bone from my left leg in the process. Thanks, Death.

One thing was certain today: the SF marathon course scenery and atmosphere is spectacular!

The backdrop for the start is the majestic Bay Bridge, and the fog shrouded Golden Gate Bridge, somewhere off in the distance about five miles from the start, was going to be the centerpiece of this run. Over the bridge and back...and then tack on 13 miles in the SECOND hilliest city on EARTH (Arlington is #1 after all of the other cities on that list).

(not the scene from Inception)

Is it too late to sign up for the half? I'll even do the 5K!

Even though my nerves were pretty much fried at this point (see previous two days spent driving around California with Fil), I have to admit that the morning air coming off of the Bay was quite refreshing and helped me relax a bit.

But making me a tad bit more nervous were the current morning temps. They were in the high 50's, and expected to climb into the upper 60's/low 70's during the run, which was unusually warm according to Bart Yasso. He was playing DJ and waking the dead this morning, including the fine folks that paid $300+ per night to vacation right along the Fisherman's Wharf. Money well spent.

My nerves were also on edge this morning because I was assigned a pretty low BIB number, based on my Boston Marathon time, which placed me in the "sub-elite" corral. I've never had to live up to "sub-elite" status before, so I didn't want to disappoint and make a fool out of all of the "sub-elite" runners out there. Sorry, guys and gals.

There was actually no separate corral for the "sub-elites" and the elites. We just had to make sure we were behind, but close enough to sniff the elite's undies. To be honest, I could actually reach out and touch last year's winner, Michael Wardian, if I wanted to, which I did before the race started. Cool guy.

I also tried reaching out and touching some of the fine looking elite females, but they would have none of it. Not cool.

The starting gun for the first wave of marathoners, including myself, went off promptly at 5:30AM and all that you could hear as you made your way down the ill-lit Embarcadero were your foot falls, breathing, and the faint cry of 26.2 hellish miles off in the distance.

This better be worth the hurt.

When The Night Brings A Hearse

2011-09-07T19:27:00.000-07:00

Shortly before I departed for the Finger Lakes 50, Bash was able to get me a great deal on my first road bike, and my first bike in over 10 years without training wheels.

I wanted to get off of my feet for a bit and let my plantar take a well-deserved summer vacation. I still wanted to stay active and in shape, so what better way than to ride a bike and get hit by a car.

I was also hoping to get into the exclusive tri world after spending the better part of winter learning how not to drown. Getting a bike was the next logical step in the tri-fecta, well, that is after picking up a pair of calf sleeves.

(I could post a different pic...)

It was love at first sight.

The bike was a Specialized Roubaix with less than 100 miles on it. The thing fit me like a glove. Well, it did after the two hour bike fitting where they changed up a couple of the parts like the seat and the stem and the....

Me and Mr. Roubaix went everywhere. I started biking to work, went to the beach, to the movies, up and down RT 38, defying the odds and cheating Death on more than one occasion.

But like in the movies, you can't cheat Death forever.

The last thing I wanted to do after the FL50 was run, so to get ready for the San Francisco Marathon, which was a month away, I just biked and biked and biked.

I hit the road on my bike full-time and pretty much spent every waking mile on the thing. I was a rider possessed.

I could definitely feel the benefits of biking, especially after climbing hills and putting in more than 100 miles on a good weekend of riding.

My plantar was finally feeling better, but I still didn't feel like running. Could I possibly break 3 hours at SF on just biking alone? I guess we'll find out soon enough.

With two weeks to go before the west coast road trip I was still biking when I should have been tapering. Biking can be deceiving in that way. You feel great when you're on it, but that only masks the ass kicking that your legs are taking.

I told myself that I just wanted one more good ride before I took it easy. One more fateful ride.

I work in Burlington and had a meeting in Boston on that beautiful day, so I decided to drive to work and then bike into Boston with the intent of biking back to Burlington after the meeting. The days were still long at this point with the sun setting well after 8PM.

Unfortunately, I didn't get out of the meeting until well after 8PM.

I did, hoewever, plan ahead for my own funeral and brought along blinkers, headlamps, a night vest, and a sign that read, "don't fucking hit me".

I knew I was in trouble when, after pulling over partway through my ride and getting into an arguement with the ex over the phone, my phone/GPS died on me.

I was officially lost and riding blind, going up and down the wrong streets. It was now scary dark and the only thing out at this time of night is trouble.

I eventually managed to make my way back onto a street that I was familiar with, and one that I knew would take me straight back to Burlington as long as I didn't get killed.

Easier said than done.

At the corner of Winn and Wyman in Burlington, about three miles from my workplace, I crossed the intersection where Death would find me riding my beloved bike.

I saw the car approaching, but the driver gave no indication of making the left hand turn....right into me.

I remember hitting the hood of the car, rolling off, and hearing the tires on my bike exhale as it got thrown out from under me and about 15 feet from where I was hit. Ouch.

I laid on the ground in agony and of course the first thing that popped into my Buicide brain was, "Damn, I hope I can still run San Francisco."

It was time to taper.

Finger Lakes 50 - The Final Frontier

2011-09-02T21:02:00.000-07:00

Last time.

That's what I kept on saying to myself as I passed every familiar landmark for the 3rd and last time.

Crazy switchback? Last time.

Dirt road hill? Last time.

Lone tree in the middle of nowhere? Last time.

1 mile descent? Last time.

Newts? Plenty more to come.

Every aid station? Thanks.

I had dropped back 9 spots after the second loop and found myself in 16th place overall with a total elapsed time of 5 hours and 54 minutes (10:47 pace). Zona was faring much better, moving up 6 spots to 29th place overall after the second loop.

It had taken me over 3 hours to complete the second loop, so I knew that the third loop wouldn't be much faster. I projected myself to finish in over 9 hours, maybe 10. Uggg.

To put things into perspective, I had completed the JFK 50 in 8 hours and 15 minutes, and the final 8 miles of that run was pure pain and suffering.

I was actually surprised at how well I was moving over the first few miles of the third loop. How much longer could I hold this pace?

At this point the only thing that was really hindering my forward progress was the temperature. One aid station reported that it was about to hit 90 degrees. They were sitting in the shade when they told me this.

I just had to be careful not to overheat and experience the chills again. It's over once you stop sweating.

I was putting more water on myself than in myself. The aid stations were also running out of ice. Shite.

There was nothing more I could do at this point but just put one foot in front of the other and fall forward. I started counting down the miles from 16.

15.

14.

13.

12.

11.

10.

9.

It's always a huge mental boost once you get down into the single digits, and the timing couldn't have been better.

There was the mud again, but it was drier now than it was earlier in the day. At least the heat was good for something. I was actually able to run across most of it and then onto some more suitable running trails.

5 miles to go. 8 hours and 30 minutes in. I had an hour and a half to try to get under 10 hours.

On a good day I could easily complete 5 miles in about 30 minutes. Today was not a good day and I was averaging 15 minute miles. I needed a strong and steady kick near the end if I wanted any hope of hitting my new goal of 10 hours.

It definitely didn't help my morale when other runners started passing me, and that they looked much stronger. Slow and steady kicked my ass today.

I joined up with another runner after the final aid station around mile 47. We had been going back and forth all day, but never exchanged any pleasantries until now.

I ran with him for another mile, but when I looked back to check on him, he was gone. I was starting to hallucinate.

Two miles to go. I've got this!

My final kick was just as strong as any other race I've ran. I was cruising through the final trail section with my umpteenth second wind. Legs felt rejuvenated. Ah, the wonders of adrenaline!

I saw the finish line in sight, but unfortunately, you have to tack on about another quarter mile to complete the 50 mile circuit.

The finish area was now jam packed with drunk people and they were all hooting and hollering. The rush I felt over this final stretch was right up there with my first Boston Marathon finish down Boylston. I was flying!

I ran past my campsite and tossed my water bottle for the final kick. Perfect throw.

I'm pretty sure I got close to a 6 minute mile for the final quarter mile. The final results actually did indicate that I was 5th overall for this final section. Scary to think that the winners were probably running 5's through here.

It's amazing how something like this can make you forget all of the misery that preceded it.

I sprinted across the finish line with the clock reading 9:48:02. So close!

I guess I'll have to come back next year to break 9:48.

This is what 50+ miles of running looks like on a Garmin:

The final results show me finishing in 13th place overall out of 46 finishers. Just keep in mind that the 50 mile race started out with over 100 runners. Most of those runners either dropped or ended up just doing 50k.

Zona was one tough cookie on a very tough and long day. She ended up in 45th, but only as the result of getting lost on the tricky trails. I believe this was also her first trail race too!

By the time she finished, Zona ended up doing 54+ miles and she never gave up! I would have crawled up into a ball and begged someone to put me out of my misery if I had the same experience as she did. It's a good thing she hydrated well the day before, and didn't hit any deers :)

Of course, Zona would move on with this experience and win her first ultra race one month later.

Fear the ultra chick-en.

Ba-Gok!

Finger Lakes 50 - Episode IIII

2011-09-01T20:41:00.000-07:00

It was about 9AM when I started back into the wilderness of the Finger Lakes forest for my second of three loops.

In hindsight, and looking at the results now, I discovered that I was actually in 7th place overall after the first loop, averaging a 9:24 pace. Not bad considering that I wanted to die/drop out.

Zona completed her first 16+ miles in 3 hours and 20 minutes, and was near the top of the leader board for the ultra fembots.

The start of each new loop is deceptively fast as you're dropping in elevation right away, and plus you've just been re-energized after passing through the main spectating area. Adrenaline was definitely masking the issues that I would have to confront later on.

The steep drop from miles 2 to 3 (see chart on the previous post) was painfully awesome. I was picking up a lot of speed and passing a couple of runners, but of course, what goes down must come up and up and up. You end up spending the remaining 13 miles of each loop slowly climbing back up to where you started.

Net zero.

(this was definitely NOT in the brochure)

I finally reached my breaking point when I came upon the swamp section for the second time, only to realize that I would have to do this trek one more freakin' time. My second pair of trail shoes were taking a beating, but holding up better than the first. I was now the living embodiment of horse shit from top to bottom. ICK!

I had my doubts on continuing about five miles from the end of the second loop, and things only got worse as the morning sun started to bake me alive in the open fields before the finish area. It was easily in the 80's at this point and there was no shade to be found.

Trouble was brewing as I started to get the chills and felt very light-headed. Sweating was getting more and more difficult. Oh boy.

My back was also spasming on me due to the fact that I was spending more time hunched over and climbing rather than actually running/walking. This was truly a Sisyphean task (20 cent word, EJ).

The one relief that I did have was my water bottle that I almost didn't bring with me. This inanimate object became my Wilson in a sea of pain. I will never ever run another ultra again without one. As cumbersome as it may be to run 50 miles with a water bottle in your hands, it's so much more comforting to know that you can take a swig at any time. The aid stations were really great about making sure it was topped off (with ice) each time I went through. Thanks!

I crossed the halfway point/marathon mark in about 4 hours and 10 minutes, which is about 1 hour and 20 minutes slower than my marathon PR at Boston two months prior.

Even with an easy one mile trail section of the second loop to go I was still ready to quit the moment I crossed that 50K mark. I had made up my mind. There was no way in hell I was going back out there for another 4 to 5 hours, under the afternoon sun, to step on newts, climb herculean hills, and reacquaint myself with free horse manure. No way, no how.

The race organizers, in all their wisdom, would allow the 50 milers to drop from the race at the 50k mark and be counted in the 50k standings (I'm sure Frank would have something to say about this). I figured that this was the way to go with the way this day was going. It would only get worse from here on out.

I came into the finish area and crossed the 50k mat. I told the race director that I was considering dropping out of the 50 miler. She told me to just let her know officially once I was ready.

I slowly hobbled over to my very comfortable chair, took off my shoes, and stared at all of the chaffing in between my thighs. I regret not taking a picture of this (think flies hovering around an open wound).

The crowd in the finish area was huge at this point, and everybody was having a blast drinking beers and enjoying the BBQ. Why not me?

I thought to myself, this can't possibly be everybody from the 25k and 50k race. There were just too many people here milling/hobbling about. I quickly wondered what the attrition rate was for the 50 mile race.

If I'm suffering, then others must be feeling it too. Are people dropping out from the 50 mile race? Most likely, YES!

That one thought really got me going again.

I changed my socks, dusted off my shoes, re-filled my water bottle, and ran over to the race director.

I'm continuing on.

(Ding-Ding)

Finger Lakes 50 - Episode V

2011-08-31T21:58:00.000-07:00

Zona and I got up nice and early on race morning to make the 20 minute drive out to the race site in the heart of the Finger Lakes National Forest, a place where people disappear.

I was quite sore this morning, but took the advice of this doctor to get rid of the "fuzz":

The main road (only road) out to the torture fest is RT 79. This road is basically a straight shot of rolling hills that go on and on and on and on. It's an incredible place if you ever want to hit a deer.

After we spotted our first deer around mile 1 of 20, our driving slowed down just a tad....

55 MINUTES LATER

We eventually arrived at the race site with plenty of time to spare, which gave me a chance to work on my triathlon transition time.

You know you're in for a good race when you see a sign like this:

I set up my base camp about 10 feet off of the race path near the finish of each loop. There would be three loops and I planned on checking into my comfy sports chair each time round.

Zona and Carla were off doing what female ultra runners do, which is to say, I have no idea.

I didn't see them again for another 11-13 hrs. I guess people really do disappear in the Finger Lakes.

The race started on a well-packed gravel road, which felt great under my feet. I love that delusional feeling that you get at the start of every race. I could hold this pace forever!! WOOHOO!

I had brought two pairs of trail sneakers with me and had on the least comfortable pair for the first 16 mile loop. They didn't feel all too bad right now. This is awesome!

It's been over three months since this race took place, so I can't really recall every little detail, but I can tell you that it absolutely started to suck around mile 12 when I came upon something resembling Swamp Thing's vacation home.

There's mud, and then there's Finger Lakes mud.

It's the type of mud that could easily suck the shoes right off of your feet.

It was so frustrating trying to "run" on the well-worn horse trails (about 30 miles of the course) covered in ankle deep mud. You couldn't go more than 50 ft without stepping in something that resembled last night's dinner, if last night's dinner just so happens to be hay and horse shit.

We ran through cow pastures, hay fields, single track trails; on roads, gravel paths, and newts. You name it, we ran on and over it.

Making things ever more difficult was the fact that you had to stay alert for trail markings to guide you on the correct path. One misstep and you could easily head in the wrong direction for god knows how many miles. Right, Zona? :)

By the time I reached the end of the first 16+ mile loop my first pair of trail shoes were about two pounds heavier, caked with "mud". Who am I kidding. It was caked with shit.

I gingerly walked over to my sports chair and looked at my Garmin.

It had taken me almost three hours to run/walk/crawl 16 miles. Two more times? You have got to be kidding me!

I could tell that this was going to be a very long fahking day, unless of course I somehow died during the second loop, which would make for a much shorter day. At least I wouldn't see any more god damn newts.

I looked back at my Garmin and hit the lap button for the first time as I headed back out for my second serving of misery.

Finger Lakes 50

2011-08-29T21:04:00.000-07:00

But before the meat wagon could come for me and my bike on the corner of Winn and Wyman in Burlington, I first had to meet my maker at the Middle Finger Lakes 50 in upstate NY.

My training regiment leading into FL50 consisted of biking, swimming, trail runs, and one very interesting nude run through the woods of Vermont (don't worry, we'll get to that one soon enough - I just gotta get clearance from Dave Taylor's lawyer). In other words, I was in no shape to death march 50 miles in the middle of summer through some of the most treacherous terrain this side of the Merrimack River trail.

I figured that I could just go and keep my pal Zona, and her friend Carla, entertained with my witty banter. We'd drive out, get a nice hotel room, have some dinner, enjoy 16 miles x 3 of the Finger Lakes region, drink some beers, camp out under the night sky. What could possibly go wrong?

This would be Zona and Carla's first ultra experience, and my second. The 2010 JFK 50 was my first near death experience.

It was Carla's idea to do FL50 ever since she read about it in some book, I think it was called Dante's Inferno. I'm sure the brochure had many great things to say about this ultra, and I'm almost certain that all of it were lies!!

The FL50 is often touted as the perfect ultra for beginners: Three 16 mile loops, well stocked aid-stations, great atmosphere, and scenery to die for. I should have read that last part more carefully before signing up, or as EJ would say, check out the elevation profile before signing up.

Speaking of which, this was what the three of us, and about 100 other hearty souls, had to look forward to. Keep in mind that the image below is just one loop of a three looped course. Who the hell thinks of these things?

(3754 ft of climbing = 42 Heartbreak Hills)

Zona and I made the pleasant 4 hour drive in 6+ hours (Zona was driving) to our destination just west of Ithaca where we were staying for the night. Fortunately for us Zona had just finished RD'ing her "Race for Justice", so we had plenty of water for the trip. Well, Zona had plenty of water for the trip. Let's just say that this girl can really drink!

In hindsight, this very efficient hydration system Zona developed most likely saved her on race day when the temps started inching closer to 90 degrees...in the shade....with no shoes on....backwards....in the snow.

The hotel that we were staying at was also hosting a bunch of Phish Heads who were there to have a gay old time, at our expense, at the nearby Phish concert (yep, they're still around, unfortunately).

We had a nice dinner at a local eatery before crawling into bed early. I fell asleep to the sound of chairs breaking and the smell of freshly cut marijuana.

Tomorrow would be a day we'll never soon forget. I couldn't wait.

Post-Marathon Depression

2011-08-28T19:30:00.000-07:00

That's the only way I can describe the malaise I felt after hitting my goal time at Boston, and it was only April!

I wanted nothing to do with running after training for four solid months and hitting my goal. Even though I was riding a high that I had never felt before I soon felt like I was running aimlessly post-Boston.

This, and a couple of other issues that I will delve into in later chapters, made for a very bleak looking spring.

It also didn't help that Titus was toying around with me at the GT Spring Series by giving me a tiny ounce of hope that I might actually win the entire series. This forced me to race every week for about another month post-Boston (against Reno's wishes).

My legs were beginning to revolt and the first sign of dead legs began to set in.

Everything came to a head about two weeks into spring track. I remember doing that night's workout with Eric M. and on the second-to-final interval, a pain shot through the bottom of my left foot.

Please let it be a broken foot. Please let it be a broken foot.

Nope. Unfortunately, it was the beginning of my painful battle with plantar faciitis. Damnit!!

I played stupid and continued to run and race on it for a couple of more weeks after that, hoping that it would magically disappear, like all injuries do.

This was my first serious running related injury since my IT band injury late in 2009. That one took months to heal because I never rested, thanks in large part to Fil's great idea to try to run a 5K every day for 365 Days in 2010. Thanks, dad!

(chica-bow, chica-bow-wow)

The PF would eventually lead to a compensating hammy injury that I first felt at the Medical Center 6K. Ironically, the injury occurred right around the point on the course where I passed Titus, who was also battling his own demons at the time.

My right hammy just completely seized up and my entire right leg felt like dead weight as I gutted it out to the finish line. I knew I was done at that point and went straight to my car and drove home right after the race.

I was panic-stricken. Was this the swan song for my running?

I'm pretty stupid when it comes to injuries (see exhibit A above), and this was no different. I did, however, conceded to the fact that I needed to take a break from running.

I finished up the GT Spring Time series with a respectable, but disappointing, 1st loser placing behind the ageless Titus. Can someone please get a hold of his real age?! :)

I went back to my palatial estate in Tewksbury to pick my scabs and lick my wounds.

Somewhere between stupid and stupider, I got talked into running the Finger Lakes 50 MILER with fellow club mate and ultra marathon champion, Zona S.

Brilliant!

There was no way in hell I could train for an ultra marathon on two beat up legs, so I did the next logical thing. With the help of Bash, aka Knuckles, I picked up a road bike that would help keep me in shape, but at the same time, help reduce the pounding on my tired legs.

Little did I know that this bike would soon become my hearse.

(ouch)

There's Nothing To Fear

2011-08-27T22:26:00.000-07:00

So, what has happened since Boston 2:49:58?

I got edged out in the Good Times 5K spring series by Tito.

I signed up for the San Francisco marathon.

I developed plantar in my left foot.

I lost all motivation to run.

I started biking more.

I got hit by a car while biking.

I started swimming more.

I discovered I hated swimming.

I survived the Finger Lakes 50 Miler.

I put in a long run of 10 miles.

I ran San Francisco in 3:00:35.

I still had no motivation to run.

And then something happened.

I started to take note of what the others around me were accomplishing.

EJ was tearing up the Summa Time series with new-comer Erica, setting PR's week-after-week-after-week.

Bash was catapulting towards his goal of competing in Ironman Arizona with a very respectable performance at Timberman.

Sully was well into this training for his marathon in Pocatello (I won't jinx you, Kid).

Zona bounced back from her FL50 adventure to capture her first ultra title, running 50+ miles in 12hrs!

Fil was being Fil and was having a blast training and running with new and old club members.

Yvette got over her hatred of running and completed her first marathon at SF.

Amanda did the same and completed her first half marathon at SF.

El Presidente was setting AG records left and right.

Everybody was having fun except for me.

To me running had become a chore. A job in more ways than one. I simply forgot how to have fun while running.

It was time for a change, but I needed to find out how I got to this point in the first place....