Ice Age Race Report

I wanted the course record.  I needed the win.  It was never about Western States.

Honestly.  I've already turned down my spot into WS100.  Heck, I was so ambivalent about the Western States slot that my wife didn't even know Ice Age was part of the Montrail Ultra Cup and the top 2 finishers would be granted an automatic entry.  Here's the text message I got from her when she saw all the social media traffic about the auto entry:

Eleventh at WS100 and 3rd at JFK last year...both races I missed my chance to make the starting line again in Squaw Valley by one place.  Heartbreaking, right?  Why wouldn't I accept?

I'll get to that, but I have to tell the whole story first.

It just so happens that the Ice Age course record holder currently lives in Cincinnati.  His name is Andy Jones and I see him regularly as he still trains with a competitive group. (Not to be confused with Andy Jones-Wilkins (AJW) who is also well known in ultra circles.)  Andy Jones is a Canadian-born ultra runner who was very fast back in the late 80s and throughout the 90s.  He's run a 2:17 marathon, is 3rd on the North America all-time performance list for 100k with a time of 6:33:57, and he still holds the North American record for the road 100 mile at 12:05.  Suffice it to say, the dude had wheels.

When Andy saw the success I was having at races like JFK, he mentioned Ice Age.  He explained that he still had the course record, but it had been around a long time and he felt this new wave of ultra talent was bound to be on the verge of breaking his mark.  He suggested that I give it a shot.

What's more is the fact that I consider JFK, American River, and Ice Age to be the Triple Crown of fast, flat US 50 milers.  I've done JFK of course, and I wanted to race American River, but my work schedule prevented me from running it this year.  Ice Age fit into the schedule nicely, so I entered the event simply to run the race.  Western States was little more than an afterthought.

I wanted the course record.

After attempting my first 100 miler and dabbling in a couple more mountainous ultras in 2012, I had a quiet year without any headline wins.  Max King trounced me at JFK, taking my record down just a year after I set it.  I thought I ran well last year, I just felt like I couldn't compete at the very top level of mountain ultras when I had no mountains to train on.  Admittedly, my confidence was a little shaken.  I decided that I should return to my strengths and run races that I could properly train for in 2013.  I had a good start resetting my Mountain Mist CR in January, but that didn't mean much on the national level.  Ice Age was my first real opportunity to prove to myself against a national class field of fast 50 mile types that I still had it.

I needed the win.

The race started fast.  Really it was just the first mile, but still, I had no interest in getting caught up in the early shenanigans.  The leaders settled in relatively quickly about 30 seconds ahead of me, and I stalked them for the first loop of rolling, grassy jeep roads.  I don't think they were more than a minute up at the 9 mile aid station.  Josh Brimhall and Zach Bitter were starting to pull away together while Eric Senseman, Matt Flaherty, Scott Breeden, and Brian Condon trailed in a tight group.

I was now warmed up and starting to get into rhythm.  I slowly started to reel in the pack of 4 in front of me. I was very careful though, and didn't catch the group until around mile 14.  At the time we were in a section of tight single track so I was just content to sit at the back.  A short time later we popped out of the forest and were cruising on some super smooth single track.  This is my natural strength and I started stretching the string just a little here.  Keeping myself under control, but ever so slightly trying to pull everyone else out of their comfort zone.  Zach and Josh were still out of sight in the lead, but now our chase group was beginning to splinter a bit.  By the 22 mile turnaround I was solidly in third and closing on the leaders.  Most importantly, I was just running my race, according to my schedule.

Zach and Josh came into view on the return trip through the same field where I started to pass the chase pack.  I wanted to hold back and relax, but I was closing and could feel it.  I dropped a 6:30 mile and caught them at the 27 miles.  I sat on them for a minute and collected myself, but I had too much momentum and decided to push into the lead.  I felt Josh drop off the pace soon after, but Zach tried to keep in contact.  I knew I needed to back off into a more mangeable pace...I still had a long 22 miles in front of me.

At this point, I was on course record pace, but the relentless small climbs were taking their toll.  I ran a few miles of the course on Friday and knew it was going to be like this, but I hadn't seen the last 13 miles of the course, so I had no clue what I needed to prepare for.  I didn't know if I would be able to continue at CR pace. I could go after the CR, but it was risky, and I might blow up in the process.  I mentally made the switch.  I had to make sure I won.  I would have been very disappointed had I moved into the lead that early then fallen apart and given up the lead later in the race.

I dialed back the effort level a notch and started focusing on my nutrition.  I could tell I was still gradually pulling away from Zach so that was a good sign...as long as I could keep it up.  He passed me late in the race last year at Western States so I knew he could be dangerous.  I was able to pass him back before the finish at WS100, but I didn't want to try my luck again.

Why do you continue to run these stupid races?  This isn't fun. You don't have to do this to yourself.  I battled my own demons from miles 32 to 36.  I had been running too fast.  I had been neglecting my nutrition.  My quads were on the verge of cramping.  I had been listening to those scientists who say salt doesn't help cramps and had not been concerned about my salt intake.  Luckily, I had put a few S-Caps in my Salomon fuel belt as an afterthought.  That probably saved my race.  If my own experience wasn't enough, Meghan Arbogast and Jeff Browning set me straight at dinner that evening...we don't know why salt works, it just does.

The salt and a steady stream of Coke pulled me out of my funk eventually.  Another out-and-back section turned around at mile 40 and I found I had a 5 minute lead on Zach.  Brian Condon and Matt Flaherty were only 30 seconds behind Zach and looked quite good.  I was confident though that I had pulled through the hardest part of the race and I'd be able to hang on.  The last few miles were uneventful.  I knew the course record had slipped out of reach, but I was oddly content with the result.  I found one more 6:30 for the last cruiser mile and crossed the line in 5:56:46.

I haven't been more pleased with a race since I broke the CR at JFK in 2011.  I ran the 3rd fastest time in the history of the race.  Only Andy Jones and Dan Held have run faster.  Coincidentally, both of those guys also have run 6:33 for the road 100k (6:19 pace for 62 miles).  Guess I have a new goal this fall for the World 100k race in South Africa.

It was never about Western States.

The hardest part about turning down my entry is that everyone just assumes that I would accept.  There were so many comments and congratulations that ended in "See you in Squaw!" or something to that effect.  I didn't see AJW's iRunFar column until after the race, but it pretty much sums up what I think the popular opinion is regarding the Montrail Ultra Cup Series...the only reason to run a MUC race is to get into Western States.  But that's just not how I see it.  I treat the MUC like prize money.  Money rarely, if ever, has motivated me personally to run a race.  But money inevitably brings competition, and that's what I want. Same with MUC, it attracts a solid field.  Some folks trying to get into WS100, others just looking for someone quality to race against.

The problem is that the sport of ultra running is changing.  It is becoming more and more specialized.  People have long commented that the MUC races are unfair to 100 mile specialists like SpeedGoatKarl because he'd rarely be able to earn a spot in a fast 50 miler.  Fortunately, more 100 mile races have been added in the past couple years to help those types get into States.  But I have the opposite problem.

I can earn a WS entry in a fast 50 miler, but I can't do anything with it.  If I accepted my slot this year, I'd only have 6 weeks to recover from Ice Age, train for States, and then taper so I arrived well-rested.  If I was lucky, I might be able to crack the top 10 again, but I want more than that.  I want to be truly competitive.  This year I wouldn't be, so I'm not running it.  I believe that by making these tough decisions now, I will extend my career and be healthy enough to have more opportunities in the future. I just hope I can still earn my way in when that time comes.

See you in Squaw...just not this year.

Everything Bagel

...err, Everything Blog.

Panorama shot overlooking Ogden.

As the title implies, I'm going to cover a lot of ground in this post, so let's get started.

My last race was several weeks ago at the the Xenia marathon where I forgot how to run a marathon.  I felt quite good the day after the race, so I immediately started looking for another marathon to redeem myself in short order.  But two things happened that made me change my mind.  First of all, my legs didn't bounce back as fast as I thought they were going to and I was tired for a week (imagine that!).  Secondly, I decided that I really didn't run that poorly in Xenia.  If I had run 2:28 I would have been very pleased.  After some research, I think the 20mph headwind the last 11 miles was worth 2 minutes.  And if I hadn't gone out in 1:12 for the first half, I believe I could have run 2 minutes faster on the return trip.  So, I see a clear path to the 2:28 I thought I could run.  Plus, I ran completely alone after 7 miles so it was basically a time trial.  Sometimes I think I might be too hard on myself.

Pretty sweet setup for the Salomon/Suunto crew in Ogden.

Next up, the Salomon US Trail Team Summit.  A couple weeks after the marathon, I had the chance to go on a great trip that involved running, but it wasn't a race.  Salomon organized a summit for the US trail team at their headquarters in Ogden, UT and brought us all out for a long weekend.  It was so refreshing to go on a running adventure that didn't involve the focus and stress that comes with a race.  The Salomon crew took us on some beautiful trail runs just a couple miles from downtown, and I got to know so many of my awesome teammates in a way that wouldn't have been possible at another venue.  Of course, Salomon also hooked us up with a ton of great product, and I want to tell you about a few of my personal favorites.

Did you know that Salomon and Suunto are owned by the same parent company?  Well, now you do.  So my first new toy that I want to talk about is the Suunto Ambit2 S.  I've had the original Ambit for almost a year now and it's been a great watch, but it's a bit overkill for your average runner.  Suunto realized this and designed the 2S.  It gives up some battery life (now 6 hrs) and the barometer/altimeter to become a much slimmer, sleeker, lighter, and less expensive package.  It is now a full-featured GPS watch that is comfortable enough to wear as a regular watch.  It may be only a few millimeters thinner than the original Ambit, but it fits my wrist so much better.  It also has a new GPS chip that seems to be more accurate and consistent than the previous version.  If you need the additional battery life and barometer, there are refreshed versions of regular Ambit as well.  What's more, Suunto has also completely revamped the Moveslink site and it is also much improved.  For these reasons, I highly recommend looking into the Ambit2 S if you are in the market for a new GPS watch.

Testing out the Advanced Skin S-LAB Belt in Utah.

Another product I am excited about is the Advanced Skin S-LAB Belt.  It is designed to be used with the soft hydrapack water flasks.  I have run with a couple different water bottle belts, and they all bounce and slide up to my rib cage.  This belt, however, fits comfortably and stays in place quite well.  I also like carrying and drinking out of the soft flasks more than I thought I would.  Although this belt is a great idea, and I'll be wearing it this year, I'm hesitant to recommend it to the general public just yet.  The clip system is a little awkward and it doesn't stay cinched tight as well as I think it should.  It needs one more design iteration and it will be great, but I already like it better than anything else I've worn.

The S-LAB Belt with 2 full flasks.  Two in the belt + 1 in the hand = 24oz.

A quick comment about Salomon's shoes.  Building on the success of the Sense, designers introduced the Sense Ultra and Mantra this year.  I think these are great shoes that will work better for your average trail runners.  I have enjoyed running in the Mantra lately, but I'm not quite ready to race 50 miles in it yet.  So I still plan to wear my favorite XT 5's at Ice Age.  But there looks to be a lot of nice refreshes coming down the pipe.  I haven't run in it yet, but the Fellraiser looks awesome if you need lots of grip in a low-profile shoe.  I'm looking forward to running in the XT 6 shoes soon and I got a sneak peak at a big change in the XR Mission that is a little farther out.  I'm excited about the future, that's for sure.

A sneak peak of the XT 6 from runningwarehouse.com

So, next weekend is Ice Age 50 mile in the Kettle Moraine State Forest of Wisconsin.  Should be another very competitive race, but I think it suits me well.  I'm told the course is very runnable, but there are some short, steep climbs as well.  I hate mentioning names because it's so easy to accidentally overlook someone in a list of 400 entrants, but I'll give it a shot anyway.  From the Salomon team we have myself, Matt Flaherty, Glen Redpath, and Cassie Scallon.  Other top male contenders that I spotted on the list are Zach Bitter, Scott Breeden, Adam Condit, and Josh Brimhall.  I'm not as familiar with the women's field, but I see Denise Bourassa and Melanie Peters who should be able to give Cassie a good race.

My last ultra was in January at Mtn Mist, and it was only 50k, so I'm not exactly sure what to expect.  I think I'm in pretty good shape, but I've gone a little light on the ultra-distance long runs during my spring marathon training phase.  Luckily, there aren't any big mountain climbs, because I haven't spent much time climbing lately.  It should be interesting.  But this is why we race though, right?  

Follow me on twitter or facebook for the latest updates at the race.

I Forgot How to Run a Marathon...

...but hopefully I learned something from the experience.

It's been nearly 2 years since I ran my last road marathon.  A messy calendar packed with work and personal travel left my training and racing plans in limbo most of this winter.  It also forced me to spend a lot of time training on the roads and kept me away from the trails.  After training for some really long trail races last year including Western States 100, I honestly enjoyed honing in my road speed again.  I was really pleased with how quickly I felt I was returning to respectable marathon shape.  So, before heading back to the trail ultras this year, I wanted to wrap up this phase of training and test myself in a race.

With such short notice though, I really couldn't get into a big marathon like Boston.  So, I picked a small race an hour from my house - the ORRRC Marathon just outside of Dayton in Xenia, OH.  It's usually won with a time around 2:30, so I thought I might have one or two people to run with.  I ran a half marathon a few weeks ago in 1:11 at the end of a 110 mile week of training, so I felt like I had a decent idea what kind of speed I had.  I said I would have been happy with a 2:30, but I felt like I could go even faster under good conditions.

The course vs the wind.

But, good conditions were not on the menu.  The forecast called for overcast skies, and good temperatures, but also a wind from the southwest of 15-25 mph.  I knew this was going to be a big problem because the course is mostly just an out-and-back where the back part is 11 miles heading directly to the southwest on a perfectly straight bike path.  I was hoping a tree-lined bike path would provide more protection than an open road, but it turned out to be just one of many "hopes" on Sunday.

The race began and I quickly settled in behind 3 or 4 half marathoners.  I was content to sit on their shoulders for a few miles, but as I started getting into rhythm, I felt several of the others weakening.  I began taking a little more control of the pacing hoping to keep the pace honest.  One of the half marathoners was just a little fitter than the others and we pulled away a bit.  We were running side-by-side for a few miles and really got into rhythm.  I split two 5:20s with my buddy before he split off and headed for home around mile 8.  I knew I would be all alone for the rest of the race.

I looked really good early.

I had no business running 5:20s in a marathon (faster than my recent half marathon pace), but I had the wind at my back and I was feeling great.  This is what I mean when I say I forgot how to run a marathon.  It's so easy to feel great at mile 7, but you have to run the first half of a marathon with your head, knowing what pace you are actually capable of maintaining.

I realized that was a little fast though, and attempted to make some corrections.  But even after the adjustment I was still running low 5:30s - much faster than my goal pace.  I used the wind at my back as an excuse to put some time in the bank, even though I know that rarely ends well.  I felt the first hint of fatigue at mile 11, but I continued running well splitting 13 miles in 1:11:40.  I was still confident at this point because I knew I was on sub 2:25 pace and felt I could hang on well enough to run a decent time.  I was running 5:40s when I turned for the finish at 15 miles.

The wind was soul sucking.  My pace instantly dropped 15 sec/mile and I was struggling to even maintain that.  I remember running through a wide open aid station and it was so windy that dust and cups were flying all around me.  It was miserable.  That's really the only description that fits.  By 18 I couldn't even run under 6 minutes per mile.  I knew my hopes of a good time were gone, and I just had to survive to the end now.  It was strange though.  I didn't feel like I was bonking (low on calories), my legs were just too fatigued to maintain the effort needed to hold pace into the wind.

I rejoined the tail end of the half marathon race around 22 miles.  This gave me a little boost since I was no longer completely alone and was now able to pass someone.  I never did completely regroup, but I was able finish strong, win with a healthy margin, and sneak 1 second under 2:32 with a little kick.

Ugly, just like my race.

It wasn't the race I planned.  It wasn't the race I was capable of running.  I forgot how to run a marathon and I made some mistakes.  But there is no doubt in my mind that those last 11 miles would have been much worse without the lessons learned from ultra running the past few years.

So, what now?  I plan to return to the trail on May 11th at Ice Age 50.  But I still have this nagging feeling that I didn't quite accomplish what I set out to do in the marathon.  I might take another stab at it, but I have to be careful not to interfere with my goals at Ice Age.

Finally, I just wanted to say the Ohio River Road Runners Club (ORRRC.org) is just a fantastic organization. The race was well organized and results and pictures were posted before I went to bed. Thank you to everyone who made the race possible.

St John Vacation and 8 Tuff Race Report

 Over the past few years, I’ve been fortunate enough to travel to quite a few races all across the country, and even a few international races.  Many times, I am able to work a brief vacation in around these races, but my primary focus is almost always performing well at the race.

My trip to St John USVI and the 8 Tuff race that accompanied the travel was just the opposite.  This was a major beach vacation for myself and my wife and the race was just a fun thing to do.  Certainly the fact that a large group of Cincinnati runners attend the race every year persuaded me to make St John our vacation destination, but it wouldn’t have been worth going just for the race.  That vacation was the real reason to travel to St John.

That’s not to say that I wasn’t going to race hard.  I knew I was in great shape, and well, let’s just say there’s no off switch for my competitiveness. This time, however, I wasn’t planning to lay off the sun bathing and adult beverages to save a few seconds on Saturday morning.

Before I get to race day, let me share a little about the trip because not doing so would be doing the experience a great injustice.  First, a little background on the island.  St John is part of the US Virgin Islands and as such is a US territory.  It is quite small with a permanent population of only about 5000 people.  It has no airport or bridges connecting it to any other landmass, so it must be reached by ferry.

My wife and I arrived on Sunday, nearly a week before the race was set to start.  We flew into St Thomas, took a cab to the ferry, arrived in Cruz bay and picked up our rental car.  No doubt, it’s a pain to get to, but that also makes it special.  St John is remote and relatively undeveloped.  It feels much less touristy than the major cruise ship ports you might have stopped at in the Caribbean.  Tourism is obviously the economic lifeblood of the island, but we were never accosted by pushy street vendors or aggressive tour guides.  If anything, many of the locals seemed to almost ignore us.  They even appeared segregated and sometimes distant.  There was an obvious dichotomy between the poverty of the native people and the affluence of those that came to vacation.

Much of the island is national forest that was donated by the Rockefeller family.  It is wild and beautiful, and surrounded by pristine sandy beaches and clear blue water normally only seen on postcards.  It is also extremely hilly and the roads are steeper than anything I've ever driven.  Even though it’s a US territory, they drive on the left side of the road, which is a bit of a challenge to get used to.  We stayed in a small cottage that was basically a one room, studio apartment, but it had a nice sunset view and was perfect for our needs.

On Monday, our first full day on the island, we got a relaxed start and then spent the afternoon at the north shore beach of Cinnamon Bay as we tried to get our bearing a little bit.  Tuesday, because the wind and surf were high, we hiked some trails to the ruins of a long-abandoned sugar plantation.  We saw several mongoose, tons of hermit crabs, and a deer.  We went back to the beach on Wednesday but the water was still too rough to do any kayaking or snorkeling like we had planned, so we just lazed around instead.  Thursday was a real highlight of the trip.  We went on a sailing excursion that included some snorkeling and a very rare Caribbean whale sighting.  The day before the race, we hung out with our 20 strong group of runners from Cincinnati on the beach, but avoided getting totally drained by the sun.

Race Day

8 Tuff is an 8.37 mile road race that crosses the island from one coast to another.  It climbs to an elevation of 999ft in about 5 miles and then comes straight back down.  This year, 1400 people started the race.  In our group from Cincinnati, we had the defending champion and also the course record holder.  Having their insight on the race gave me a real advantage even though I was a rookie.  I also had several opportunities to scout the course earlier in the week.  I knew what I was getting into, but I honestly thought the 46:00 course record set by Chris Reis was out of reach.  Chris has run under 65 minutes for a half marathon, and the defending champion Derrick Butler is a sub-30 min 10k guy.  Both would admit to not being in peak shape heading into the race, so I thought I had a shot against them, but I didn't know if I had the leg speed on such a short course to challenge the record.  You basically have to run 4:30 miles downhill at the end of the race to run 46 minutes.  I don’t run many 4:30 miles anymore.

Adding to the difficulty, the race tends to be quite warm at a time of the year when Midwesterners aren't acclimated to heat.  We got lucky this year as the temperatures were not too bad, probably in the mid to upper 70s.  There was a neat flyover by a Coast Guard chopper, and we were off and running.  Only the top 100 finishers from the previous year start up front in a special corral, but I made my way through the crowd and up with the leaders very quickly.  The first 400m is flat, but there’s not much else flat about the 8 Tuff course.  We started climbing and I settled into 2nd place just a few seconds back of defending champ Derrick Butler.  I didn't want to push him early, and I wanted to see how my body was feeling.  Going out fast is never really my style anyway.

I laid back for the first two miles where a large portion of the climbing is done.  I pulled even with Derrick around the 2 mile mark and moved past as I tried to keep my own rhythm.  The third mile flattens a little so I was a bit surprised that Derrick didn't come back to my shoulder, but I stayed away until mile 4 pitched up steeply.  Derrick said he felt like he caught back up a little during the 4th mile, and I don’t doubt it, because I felt like I was struggling a little bit.  But I know my legs really well, and I knew I had a lot of running left, so I just trusted myself to run on feel.  At the 4 mile split, I was pleased to see I was 10 seconds behind Reis’ course record split, but I still didn't think I’d be able to match his speed on the way down.

Yelena Rogers Photography (from facebook)

The next few miles have several steep rollers and gain a some additional elevation, but the brief downhills gave my legs a chance to recover.  I pushed forward and could tell I was getting away from Derrick.  The last two downhill miles I just ran as fast as I could.  I lost track of my splits compared to the CR, and had no clue what kind of pace I was running.  The roads were extremely curvy so it was quite fun crossing the closed road hitting all the tangents.  But the steep grade was starting to make my feet burn as I slid forward in my shoes (Saucony Fastwitch 2, oh yeah).

All of a sudden, I popped off of the downhill Centerline road and made a slight left signalling that I was near the finish, but I didn't know actually how close I was.  I still had to make a u-turn back onto a ball field and then I could see the finish.  I glanced down at my watch and was shocked to see 45:30.  I kicked hard to make sure I dipped under the old course record with room to spare.  45:46 was my final time.  Derrick and Reis weren't too far back, and budding ultra runner Marc Teismann was 5th place.  Not a bad showing for the Cincinnati boys.

It shouldn't surprise me anymore, but I am always amazed how far strength will get you in running.  I am still learning how little leg speed matters and how important aerobic fitness and running economy are to performance.  Of course, 1300ft of climb helped my case a little as I've gotten plenty of climbing practice over the past year.

The people of St John were just great.  I’m not exaggerating when I say that I've never had so many people want to congratulate me, shake my hand, or get a picture with me after a race win.  My Cincinnati teammates were also quite excited about the $300 bar tab that I won and would surely share with them later that evening.

The rest of the afternoon was spent grilling out at the beach with the team and dulling the pain of our sore muscles with a few adult beverages.  It was a great finish to a great week on a great island.  Thanks for the memories St John!

2013 Mountain Mist Race Report

Photo by WeRunHuntsville

Sometimes I wonder if it’s really worth it. Is it worth all the life I miss in my never-ending quest to shave a few minutes off my times running various road and trail courses?  Is it worth the friendships that never were or will be because I’m too busy training, too desperate for sleep, or traveling to another running event? Is it worth the loneliness of nearly every distance run that I do alone because I’m too unwilling to slow down and run with others if it will compromise my training? Is it worth the fun vacations that I skip? The career advancements that I’m giving up to be able to run more?

I’m well past the point of diminishing returns right now.  It takes a lot of work just for a few seconds of improvement.

Last year I began to doubt. Maybe it really isn’t worth it anymore.

I knew Scott Breeden, the 23-year-old ultra youngster from Bloomington, Ind., was going to be my only competition from the start. On the surface, his resume was not overly impressive, but the trajectory of his progress did catch my eye. He’s quite experienced for a guy just out of college having already run several 100s, but he’s also been getting a lot faster recently. I realized he would not be the typical hotshot kid from the roads running his first Mist. Still, I didn’t know quite how well the Midwesterner would be able to handle the surprisingly technical nature of the Mtn Mist trail.

Hitting the trail (Photo by WeRunHuntsville

My plan was to run the first half of the race by feel.  It was just Scott and myself running together only seconds after the gunshot started the race. We quickly settled into sub 7 minute pace which I noticed felt really comfortable for me on this particular day. We chatted a bit over the first 6+ miles, his breathing just slightly more labored than mine. We split the first aid station in 41:30. I chose not to carry a bottle for most of the day, so I took a couple swallows of Coke before heading out.

Heading up the race's namesake trail (Photo by WeRunHuntsville)

As we descended down Warpath Ridge, Scott answered my questions about his technical running ability...he was going to be just fine. He briefly fell back once when his timing chip came loose, but he quickly caught back up. He followed me through the powerlines, climbed K2 on my shoulder, and tagged along into aid station #2. He waited as I slowly washed a gel down with water before we continued on together.

He stayed glued to me through the Stone Cuts and the Sinks trail. When the trail widened, he would pull up beside me and just barely push the pace.  He probably didn’t even know he was doing it.  A few minutes before we arrived, I explained that I would be climbing the gate at the Fearn aid station.  He didn’t technically have to, but practically, I had to do it or Dewayne Satterfield would lose all respect for me if I skipped the gate. I still wasn’t carrying a bottle and was enjoying that, but I had to stop a few seconds to grab a few swallows of GU Brew from my dad just before the gate.  I also grabbed a GU to carry with me for future use. We split Fearn in 1:55 and were 6 minutes head of my old course record pace!

Nah, Alabama trail aren't that rocky (photo by WeRunHuntsville)

As soon as we crossed the road and rejoined the trail, I welcomed Scott to the “back half” of the course. I explained how most people run the last 14 miles slower than the 17 miles on the “front half.”  He asked if that was due to the rocks or the climbs.  “Both,” I said.  And then I took off.

It was a strategic move to drop him at this point. I didn’t want to show him the way, to give away the best lines, to let him see when I slowed down or sped up. If he was going to beat me and this course, I was going to make him do it on his own. All previous winners have had to do it at one point. It’s like a rite of passage. Just you and the trail ahead.

I ran from Fearn to the Land Trust aid station in just 24 minutes. I hurt a little for the first time all day, but achieved my goal and put a minute between us. I paused to take my gel and headed out, catching one last glance of Scott as the trail doubled back on itself.

I knew Waterline was coming and felt I could back off a little bit now that I was out of sight. I was still moving well, but I had stopped pushing to save a little something for the big climb. Soon after I began the ascent, I suddenly felt a little weak. The lack of calories I had consumed because I wasn’t carrying a bottle finally had caught up with me and I was beginning to bonk. It wasn’t that long ago that I couldn’t identify what it felt like to start bonking and recognize what I needed to do to fix it.  The solution may seem obvious, but the long ultras I did last year gave me a bunch of practice in diagnosing and recovering from fuel deficits. With less than 10 minutes until the waterline aid station, I chose to wait to eat there instead of taking the gel I was carrying with no water.

The climb was tough, but I held it together well enough and made it to the aid station at 2:51 (official splits have me in at 2:49, but that’s not accurate). This time I took a bottle from dad so I could refuel on the run.  I drank as much GU Brew as I could handle and gradually started to feel better.

The biggest obstacle I encountered throughout the whole race was an unleashed 80lb yellow lab just before the washout. It was obviously a very playful dog, and I tried to ignore it and just blaze through down the fire road hoping to sneak past unscathed. But the dog found me to be an irresistible temptation and threw a mean chop block that brought me to my hands and knees. The owner was frantically trying to coax the dog back under control, but it was too late. I wasn’t seriously injured, so I got up and continued on my way. I yelled back to the owner that more runners would be coming through soon.  That was my only fall of the day.

Over the final 10k, I just tried to keep moving well as opposed to really pushing. I was still waiting for the calories to make their way into my system, I didn’t want to make a mistake on this very technical section of the course, and I knew I had one more big climb to conquer.  I was doing the math in my head and knew I was in a good place if I just kept moving. I’d glance over my shoulder occasionally, but never could see Scott. I was really pleased with my climb up Rest Shelter. I didn’t run it all that fast, but I shortened my stride and just kept moving consistently. This is another thing I just learned to do last year on the big climbs.

Victory!  (photo by Eric Charette)

The last 1.5 miles I was able to just cruise. I knew I had the course record well within reach, and I wanted to enjoy my 4th Mountain Mist victory. I shaved 6 minutes off my old course record, crossing the finish line at 3:36:52 with a big smile across my face.  Scott ended up running an incredible race, finishing just over 6 minutes back and recording the 3rd fastest time on that course (few seconds faster than Dave Mackey's best time).  It was an incredible run for a Mist rookie.

Back to my original question.  So is it?  Is it worth it? 

When it all comes together like that, yes, it is absolutely worth it. It’s what I love.  But it’s not just the end result that I love.  I have also learned to love the process just as much as achieving the end goal. And all those lost friendships and vacations and stuff?  I have better a question: How many friendships and adventures would I miss out on if I weren’t an ultra runner?

Thanks to RD Dink Taylor for all of this hard work.

Gourmet tacos and beer post-race.

Alabama Mountains

The coolest official race vehicle ever.