The Path is Set

Well, no shocker there. Not accepted to Western States 100 for about the 4th time. It is getting to the point where that race is impossible to get into. 10% acceptance this year. Oh well, maybe another time.

Otherwise, post-Soweto marathon I hopped on the bike for the Momentum 94.7 Cycle Challenge. Despite its name, this bastard went 62 miles and I dont care what they say. Here's why those two miles extra sucked. First off, it isnt like I trained too hard for this thing. I was on the bike maybe 9 times since the start of the school year and my longest ride was a 25 mile effort. So that sucks. Next, this is an amazingly hilly course, and it stings the legs. Throw in temps in the 80s, 25,000 riders, and the above mentioned handicap, and I was set up for failure.

After the gun, I tried to get a pace line going. People here suck at rider etiquette. They couldn't pull at the front and drop back to save their life. I would jump up, give 1-2 min at 22+ mph and then go back. They would ride at the front for 8 min getting slower and slower each minute till I took over. I was livid and even tried to tell them. Didn't matter. People here don't get it. Plus, I was way back in the start and had thousands of riders to pass every 4 min or so as we worked through the waves.  No joke, I am going downhill at 48mph and there are people walking their bikes.  On the ups we try to sprint and fatties on mountain bikes weave across the road. Next year I am getting seeded and starting earlier.

Flew the first 40 miles at over 20mph, and then it got bad. Coming up this long, exposed highway I got tired of the sun and tired of the saddle. With 20k to go, things got bad. Three times I had to stop and leap off the bike with massive cramps, the last a mere 500m to the finish. I fell off the bike, grabbed the leg, and felt my butt burning on the pavement. I crab walked my crippled self to the side of the road, and some guy stopped to pull my bike over. Then he just sat there till I was ready. Not talking, not helping, just chilling, 500m from the line.  I missed my goal by about 9 min but it was an experience.

Since then I have been in a slump. Just couldn't bring it back together. Got reverse block in my ear last week diving and only managed 3 days on the run. But this week went better, and I cruised a 20 today with no problem. Not fast, but no issue.

Probably going to do a low-key marathon in January before the PR effort at Pietermaritzburg in Feb.  After that, translating the speed into the ultra for a 35 mile jaunt at Two Oceans in Cape Town and then the big dance of 56 miles (89k) at Comrades in May. With Western States out, I will probably look to the first of July for the transition to Ironman training.

That's the plan for now. But what does that really mean?

The First Races on African Soil

Running in Africa is much like driving in Africa – if you figure out which way to look and what side of the road to be on, you are doing all right. There are more than a few scary moments when you step off of the curb and get buzzed by a car because you are looking the wrong way. Thankfully, due to the many people that walk here, there are numerous dirt trails lining the busy roads.

For motivation and safety, we joined a local running club. They hold weekly time trials over 4, 5, and 8K. When I say that they are hilly remember I have lived in Colorado, ran on the Great Wall, and have done my share of trail races. We are 4000-6000ft above sea level here too. This course is a monster allowing no consistency and brutally long uphills followed by pounding downhills. On any given week I can win going away or get my butt handed to me. For example, I may run with the double jogger and win by 3 minutes, or put up a 29:30 (8K) and take 3rd. It really just depends on who shows up.

But the hills have paid off. I took the base from summer and my PR marathon and kept the fire. I took 9th in a half marathon out in Krugersdorp. It was at altitude and had several kilometers per loop of steady uphill. The compensation was one downhill a mile out from the end. It was the kind of hill that doesn’t let you run faster – it just blows your quads from breaking and causes blisters in the feet. I got out way too fast but put in a solid effort considering the course. I finished within seconds of 6th and even slowed to help 8th on in. I still broke 1:23 which for that course could have been worth 5 more minutes.

SOWETO Marathon

There isn’t a township more famous than Soweto. This former home of Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu is the root of the rebellion against racial oppression in South Africa. No place on earth boasts a wider disparity in economic distribution as millionaire mansions and glittering malls surround tin-roofed shacks and rampant unemployment. Yet each year, thousands take to the streets for a marathon that tours areas that at no other time would I be welcome to walk.

After a quick trip to the African bathroom (a tree), I pulled into the starting coral. There was supposed to be a seeding system but I knew at packet pickup when they assigned me the next available number my previous time meant squat. While being pushed and prodded I scowled at the hundreds that pushed past me to get closer to the line. When 60 year old men do this, I have to object. Yet with 1 minute until the gun the crowd broke into a glorious song, cheering in unison for the miles ahead. Thus started the annual Soweto marathon and ended the organizational efforts by the directors.

I would think that starting just 100 feet from the line would not put too many people in front of me. Yet within seconds of the gun a whole sea of humanity spread out before me. What started on two lanes expanded to six lanes with people in the median and on the sidewalk. For the entire race, groups of runners always paved the way. I never was alone. The first half of the race was conservative. After all, this was a killer hilly course and no sense in busting it out in November.

There were some interesting sights along the route: I ran with a man who was jingling with change. This was his taxi and bus fare home. I forget not everyone comes to runs under their own power. Another guy was running his first marathon at 31 years old and was on pace for 3:10. While others faded, he rolled along. I was psyched and helped him along for a few miles before he faded on the final hills. There was a period of running through sewage. Not going to lie. I saw some of the poorest places in the world. There were huts that would make any village in Mexico look like Cabo. It was pretty sad.

Split the half in 1:33 and started to pick it up. By 20 miles I was sure I could negative split by 3 minutes. But the last 7k were so unbelievably hilly that I did all I could to hang on. There were hills where everyone (but me) that I could see walked. It was a killer way to end the race. I definitely felt like it took something out of me.

338th place out of 4879 finishers. Gun time 3:07:30/3:06:55 net time. Not bad for holding back on the hilliest race around.

30 in 30!!!

Massey, Canada is a sleepy little town east of Sault Ste. Marie. Probably not much happens here on a weekly basis, but once a year the Friendly Massey Marathon is held, and if you can stand 87% humidity, cool temps, and light breeze you are offered a fast course with that good old Canadian charm. I had completed 29 of 29 marathons and was 29 years old, turning 30 the day after the race. It seemed a fitting time to run one more.


Rod was supposed to be here, but the day before I stopped at his hotel room three times and searched the start line to no avail. It would have been nice for him to jump in the half and run with me for 13 miles, but I would go this one solo. I stuck with a 19-year-old who was running his first marathon and his dad, who wanted to run sub 1:30 for the half to qualify for New York. I knew from research that this kid had run a decent half, but no fulls. I wasn’t worried about him knowing the sting miles 13-18 can put on a first timer. We cruised the opening miles together but Ks of 4:16 and 4:18 (3hr pace is 4:16) got me nervous and since I was down on the leader by 1:48 by 6K, I figured enough was enough. The race was on.


For the next four miles I worked away from speedy and his dad trying to close the gap on the shirtless leader. He had gone out with the half marathon guys and tucked in, so I wasn’t worried because during the second loop he would be alone. But as I made the turn at 15K he had 2:41 on me! I was losing time after all that hard work, and the worst part was the boy and his dad weren’t even that far behind me. I was in for it with 16 miles to go.


I crossed the half in 1:26:xx. That was a shade fast for me (considering I run 25 miles a week and my occasional tempos aren’t even at that pace) and heard that he had gone through in 1:23, and if he were a 2:55 guy, I knew he could hold me off. I figured the only way I would catch him was that he would blow up while I maintained. I had to maintain, since I feared that when the kid behind me dropped his dad off at halfway, he would be fresher than me having conserved and then unload his speed and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.


By the time we hit our next “out and back” I had cut the gap to about 1:51. I was pleased, but my legs were stinging from a faster than usual pace, and it was getting warm. For the next several miles I tried to bring him back in, and I did, catching him at 34K. We exchanged pleasantries, but I warned of the talent in 3rd place. With a turnaround at 36K, I wanted to push to that point and back from it so that I could have 3rd see me first before he could see 2nd. I figured that would mess with his head, knowing that there had been a change of order and he had that much further to get me. But when I turned, I saw that I had not dropped the former leader with authority. The silver lining was that the rookie was much farther back than anticipated, probably cracking during the attempt to catch us.


It would be nice to portray the tale of the final 6K with drive, speed, and glory, but it was anything but. Although I didn’t lose time, I struggled mentally on the hills and could not drop the pace. I had never before “raced” nearly a whole marathon. I often reserved my energy to pace well and step up to close or beat people. This was a new game. I ran as fast as I could hold for the duration. It meant that my predetermined “kick points” had gone right out the window and I struggled in, still on a great pace but with no ability to shake it up.


I crossed in 2:50:17 for the win. It was my 30th marathon before my 30th birthday. It was my 3rd win, my 4th time under 3hours, and my 9th top 10 finish (damn that 11th place in March!). I set a personal best by over 5 minutes on less mileage per week than I have ever seriously ran. Second came in about 6 min back (stopping twice in the final 3K with leg cramps), and 3rd (the rookie) just missed with 3:00:30 (he was hurting at the end having experienced the full in all its glory). The only bittersweet moment was that I have secretly always wanted to have a time in the 2:40s. I know I can, but I left it short today. I never checked my watch from the half mark on, but I am not sure there was much I could do to get time back if I had. All in all, if you can set a PR, win, and reach a milestone race, it is kind of hard not to call it a perfect day.

Leadville Marathon Rocks

Stickers saying “Leadville Rocks” pepper cars around town. The commercialized saying has a nasty double meaning. First, Leadville hosts one of the best ultra races in the world in its 100 mile race while its 100 mile bike ride draws the best cyclists in the world. So it pretty much kicks ass in that respect. However, what they don’t tell you is this normally sleepy mining town also hosts a trail marathon, that is in fact, loaded with rocks, and it makes for one nasty trip around the mountains.

By the time the pavement ended, I was feeling largely optimistic about my chances in this race. I had several things going for me. First, this race is difficult and won in slow times, which has favored me in every similar effort. Second, I was in 10th at the 1.5 mile mark and with my slow start and smart walking on the mountains, I knew I would move up. And move up I did, from the town of Leadville at 10,200ft up to a nice loop of Bald Mountain. I left the loop (at about 9 miles) in 6th place. As I started down a long dirt road I looked up and saw a twisting path to the top of a mountain in the distance. I thought that it must be Mosquito Pass, and it was. Why we had to lose elevation only to start up the side of a mountain to its summit was beyond me, but such was the way of the trail.

The top half-marathoners were coming back at me as I started up the climb. It was a steep climb and I battled with a brisk walk versus a slow jog for most of the lower slopes, finally resolving to walk to conserve energy. A runner went by me, completely in oxygen debt, running the whole way. I just shook my head, keeping him in sight, determined to make him pace for the stupid strategy in the second half of the race. Unfortunately for me, I popped like a Tour de France sprinter on an Alp near the summit and by the time I reached the summit at 13,100ft, I was toast.

With a 40mph wind blowing temperatures down about 25 degrees cooler than the lower slopes of the mountain, I felt for the volunteers at the top of the pass. But then again, Leadville does have the best and most dedicated volunteers of any race. Meanwhile, I had my own problems to deal with. In an effort to better prepare for the upcoming race in Canada, I had stepped up my running. In the week of the Leadville race (on a Saturday), I had done a 10 mile tempo on the Friday before, a tempo on Tuesday, then hiked the Manitou Incline on Wednesday (in a 3 hour round-trip effort with my father at such a pace that I used muscles that I never have and could barely walk the next day), and a Tempo on Friday. By the time I woke up at 430am on Saturday and drove the 2.5 hours to Leadville, I was toast. Had it been a flat road marathon, I would have been fine, perhaps even fast. But this was Leadville, and it was unrelenting.

The top 3 guys blew past me down the mountain, and I was facing a deficit of more than 10 min at half way. But I thought place 4-6 looked close and vulnerable. However, the path down was less than a foot wide, and with more than 100 half-marathoners and slower marathoners coming up the pass, I frequently shot off the path to avoid people. The rocks were loose, and I rolled ankles, kicked rocks, and lunged hands-first about 20 times on the descent, getting no closer to the group ahead. I felt fairly confident that my left food had a stress fracture and that I would spend the night getting x-rays in the hospital. I did know my right ankle was sprained. Those three miles were hell, and as I faced the 2 mile climb out of the valley I lulled into a pedestrian pace with a long way to 6th and 8th place on either side of me. The reverse loop of Bald Mountain did nothing to boost my motivation and I hit 22 miles with a wish to quit right there at the aid station. What should have been a welcomed descent was met with more trips and tumbles down the path on trashed legs. It wasn’t until I hit the pavement did I feel like I could be done. Too bad for me there was a long rolling downhill left to deal with before crossing the tape. Ryan Burch wasted me by over a half hour, and I finished far lower than I should have. My time was 4:22, and good for 7th even though it was the slowest marathon I have ever run, by far. My effort and body just weren’t there for what was, undoubtedly, the hardest marathon I have run. This one isn’t for the spring chickens. Stickers saying Pb for Lead also are on cars, and now have been permanently tattooed to my legs.

What Happened to that 100 Dude?

Apparently, having a pregnant wife doesn't exactly scream CREW. Despite my training be hampered by 6 months of a stomach bug and less miles than I would like, I was looking forward to the opportunity to return to Kettle Moraine 100 and finish that bad boy, even if it took all night.


However, Sarah has a tendency to kick these kids out under deadline, and the doctor's appointment the Thursday before the race (the day of the flight out), said this pattern would continue.  At 3cm dilated and 75% aphased, she could go at any time.  We made the decision to stay home. And because my buddy's bachelor's gathering was in the boonies, I missed that too.  But Monday came, and no baby.


She made her appearance a week later.  After three days off and no sleep, I got back at it. I have hit some tempos on the trail with varying success but my real breakthrough came just pacing a 10K for a friend. I felt golden and shook the rust out, so to speak.  I came back with Yasso 800s and did 10 in under 3flat with no difficulties or repercussions.  A few tough bike rides have added to the feeling of general contentment.

Here is the plan: Leadville Marathon in a week will kick my butt all over but it is a fitting way to leave Colorado. I turn 30 on July 19th, and will have run 29 open marathons. I cant leave it at that. I have to put in 30 by 30 years.  After moving, I will head to northern Ontario, Canada for the Friendly Massey Marathon.  Originally, I thought I could win this one. Then I realized that every year other than the year I looked was faster.  So I don't know what will happen. I figure if I go there to do the best I have and I lose, no harm.  More to come on the South Africa plans soon.

The Vortex of Running

An Odd Group at the 2010 Colfax Marathon

For the last few months, I have struggled significantly with stomach problems, injury, and exhaustion. The motivation to run was very low. Day after day of low miles, slogging through runs at an incredibly slow pace, I was done. But then there was rejuvenation. I realized that I will have 29 open marathons by the time I am 30. That just did not settle well with me. So I signed up for a race the day before my 30th birthday. And the motivation was back! I did a tempo run and dropped a 5:38 mile, so I knew the legs still had it, as well as 3 faster runs last week. Now I just had to run marathon number 28.

The Colfax Marathon is an odd event. Picture the street in your city with the worst reputation – liquor stores, bums, drugs, strip clubs – and then decide to run a marathon entirely on that street. Granted, when I ran this race in 2006, about 25 miles of the course was Colfax, and the 12.5 miles or so on it now are certainly in a better part of the city.

Having no race plan, I went out on the gun. Brooks said he would go 6:45s. I thought that was too fast for my fitness level, but sure enough I hit them for the first 10K or so, with Brooks nowhere in sight. I cruised along for the first 13 miles with two bathroom breaks en route. My splits say that I eased up a bit from 7 to 13 but I was running under what I expected the whole time. After seeing the leaders go past (and giving Brooks a few smartass comments about the intended pace as he shot by), I lit a fire and decided to run. After all, I needed to push myself mentally and physically in order to survive the 100miler and the marathons this summer. I crossed in 1:31:35 (7min/mile).

After dropping a 6:28 13th mile, I passed the lead woman and then kept it up for the rest of the run, cruising by people. But I have to say, it was like the Twilight Zone of running. At mile 3, I split a 6:45 – quite fast I felt. Yet for some reason this split was too slow for the guy next to me (did I mention he had fat legs, an IPod, and a cotton long-sleeved shirt on?), and he took off. I am not sure where he finished but it was nowhere near 6:45s! Later I caught a hairy-backed man with a hip belt full of 4 bottles and a Camelbak (even though there was water every mile or so). He ran sideways – when his foot hit the ground it was 90 degrees to his direction of travel. That means that for the brief second when both feet are on the ground at the same time in his stride, he was completely sideways – walk like an Egyptian style. It pains me it took me 10 miles to pass him. Third place at the turnaround was a little Africa wearing a full spandex suit (temp at the finish had to be in the mid 60s). Yet I blew by him at 18 miles like he was standing still. The weirdest part was that this guy who would move up to 3rd by 13.1 passed me at a mile. I don’t know where he started or if he was sleeping in the car when the gun went off, but he faded significantly. It was just an odd day of running out there.

At mile 19 I thought I had gone too early. The hills of the city were coming and I started to struggle. Yet with patience and experience, the pace continued to stay fast and I passed more people. At 10 miles left, I thought that I would run about a 3:03. At 10K to go, I figured a 3:02. With 2 miles to go, I knew that breaking 3 hours that day would mean a blistering finish. I saw the guy ahead of me who said it was his “Bucket List” item to break 3 hours and I went after him. After yelling for him to stop looking at the watch and go and to do it or “die trying” as he said to me earlier, I pushed on, crossing mile 25 in 6:26. I stepped it up to the finish, yet with a half mile to go, the trail merged with all of the half marathoners. Suddenly I was in a sea of 11 min milers as the course weaved through the park. I couldn’t cut tangents and had to dodge slower runners, walkers, and spectators with baby strollers. I still crossed mile 26 in 6:05 and kicked to this finish the best I could in the crowd. 2:59:53. Could I have been faster? Oh yeah, if I hadn’t stopped twice to use the toilet or not laid off in the beginning. But who cares? I was 10th and I had run 35 miles a week, and only 2 runs in the last 2 months under 8min/mile pace – both in the last week. So I was stoked with my day.

Aftermath – I drove home and the legs were great. It was a few hours later after 7 games of beach volleyball that I entered a new world of hurt. I reached a level of exhaustion encountered only by running 100K-100miles. I crashed and woke the next day to calf muscles that hated me. I would have to say that physical repercussions from the marathon were nil. No pain. But jumping, sprinting, and diving in sand for 2 hours on marathon legs left me crying. Nothing some ice, Motrin, a bike and easy run couldn’t cure though.

The RATS

Tuesday night softball. Crack. A ball is hit to the gap between center and left field. It is going to drop for sure. I speed towards it. The centerfielder does to. It is going to hit between us and roll. There is no way I can get to it in time. But then again, maybe I can. I shout, “Mine!” and dive just as the centerfielder extends. We collide in a hit worthy of ESPN highlights. The problem: I cannot walk.

Throw on top of that a cold and dead legs from the 35 miler the week before and you have the most unideal setting for a 50 miler. Days of icing and motrin left me still unable to run but the walk moved from a crutch to a hobble, and finally a limp by race morning. I had never been so uninspired for a run. I didn’t pack a GU, baby powder the feet, or Vaseline the bad areas. I just walked to the line 2 minutes before the gun, resolved to run to the end of the dirt road and back. I hobbled my way up the road in complete pain, head down, disappointed that I would DNF another race out of stupid circumstances. But at the road I resolved to go to the first aid station and back. At 6 miles, I figured I could make a lap of 25 miles out of it. At the end of the lap, I just kept going.

The first 25 miles of the race went fairly well for a wounded guy. I kept it slow, promising to learn the pace of the ultra. I ate and hydrated along the most beautiful course I have run. The Colorado River snaked through red-rock canons with green mountains and tall mesas. It was inspiring. When I rolled into the finish line of 25 miles, my buddy Michael cheered me in. He was shocked when I said I was going for it.

Miles later that would prove to be a costly decision. After descending for several miles to the start/finish, runners headed up to the top of the mesa immediately. Luckily, my time was spent chatting with an elite mountain biker running his first 50. We climbed for a while and left the 50K aid station in good spirits. But around 34 miles, I fell behind on a climb and really began to struggle. I was out of water and the heat was building. Instead of clouds and rain like the forecast predicted, we had a hot sun baking us every step of the run. It was hard to tell if my current problems were related to not having enough water or under training. I had been carrying a Camelbak all day. I had done long runs. I wasn’t sure why I was struggling so badly after starting so conservatively. I limped over every rock and was limited to running no more than 50 meters at a time. A team of mountain bikers stopped and let me take a few pulls from their Camelbak and gave me Gu to eat. What felt like an hour later, I jogged in to the aid station and sucked down 40oz of water.

The next 3+ miles were bliss. I was hauling, running nearly the whole stretch. It was the ultimate runner’s high and I had made 41 miles. But leaving the aid station started 3 miles of pain which took far longer than is acceptable. For 44 miles I had favored my right leg and every other part of my body was screaming at me. At the last aid station, a man was sitting down and another was leaving. It was odd to see runners after having not seen anyone for 20 miles. But they both left before I could refuel. The kind volunteer told me it was just a 10k to go and that was nothing! I laughed and looked at the road, then 1000ft. to the top of the mesa and back to the road. If the run were down that road, I told him, it would be no problem. After clipping on my pack my parting words were, “If sitting in this chair were finishing, I’d be the winner.” Then I was off.

Words cannot capture the misery and pain of the next 2 hours. The hike to the summit were the most painful three miles of my career. When the knot in my calf subsided, the nausea started. When that faded, the quads barked. I hated every step. But not as much as I hated the downs. Every switchback was torture, every rock a wall. Then I got off trail, and let me assure you that scrambling down a 50ft slope at 47 miles isn’t a great idea on legs that cannot break. When I finally hit the road, I nearly stopped, feeling as if that were the finish line and the rest was a formality.

But the worst pain was the foot. Every step for 7 hours placed a rock perfectly in the middle of my foot, and pain radiated through my leg. It was like being pricked with a pin once per second for an entire work day. I was going insane from the repeated stabbing. It was the worst feeling in running I have ever had.

Upon crossing the finish line, Brooks greeted me, amazed since he figured I wouldn’t have gone back out (considering he had about 5 miles on me at the turnaround). We talked while resting in chairs and munching on pizza. I was more proud of that finish than of any other single day event in my life. All things being equal:

Could I have finished in the top 10? Yes

Could I have run a PR? Yes

Could I have quit? Yes

But I didn’t. And that’s the only possibility that mattered.

The Worst Day Since Yesterday

Also Known as: How to Run a Marathon on 220 Calories, Part II

As if your kid throwing up on you all night isn’t enough, just a mere hour of sleep should leave you less than psyched about traveling across the country for a marathon. I arrived in Atlanta tired, ill, and ready to go home, not race. After getting my packet and lunch, I spent most of the day watching basketball. Dinner was in at the hotel. Pretty much a typical pre-race day.

Until 2am that is. Then I was up puking gobs of undigested food into the sink (Sorry Wyndham Hotel). My stomach was so full I could barely breathe and I slept none from then on, returning frequently to make a deposit. I awoke, tried to eat one flake of Raisin Bran, and returned to the sink for another bout. No breakfast or liquids would go in. It was going to be a long day.

Originally, I had wanted to go sub-3 hours. But when I discovered the fastest pace group was 3:40, I thought about backing off (hard to hit a pace alone that is a good 1:30 per mile faster than your daily runs). So I thought about 3:03:30 (7min/mile) but when the puking started, I changed to 3:10. After a quick dump in the bushes, I hit the start line, and within 30 seconds I knew finishing would be the only goal.

I always say that you should feel awesome through 10, good through 15, and able through 18 or you are in big trouble in the marathon. As I crossed mile 1, I felt like I was in a 5K, and by mile marker 2 I would have sworn that I just ran 20 miles. I was sweating, heaving, and felt like I was sprinting (I was running with the 1:35 half-marathon group since the courses were the same for the first 7 miles). The pace was all over the place (7:07; 6:51; 7:22) so I just chilled and kept them in sight, feeling much more stable at 10 seconds a mile slower.

The rain started at about mile 4, and then the winds picked up. It was chilly and I was throwing up little bits every 2 miles or so. But the real kicker was the hills. Never have I run such a hilly urban marathon. Long uphills were followed by bombing downhills. It was amazing how difficult the course was. But despite the hills, I was holding a relatively even, and decent pace (call in Colorado training). I crossed the half in 3:12 pace and was actually feeling better than the start. Then the hills fought back.

I couldn’t believe the course! It never stopped. People passed me on the hills since pushing made me feel ill. I held on and kept moving up, even started passing people. By 22, there was a mile long out and back section and I could see about 30 people ahead of me. All of them looked like death, and those who weren’t walking the downhills looked like they wanted to. I pushed on and was told I was in 82nd place at 23 miles. The last few miles were painful as they snaked through the hills around the finish line. I caught more and more people and tried to run with form and experience. I finished in about 67th place in 3:14. I was amazed.

Medal around my neck, I blew past the solar blankets and past the food (not that I wanted it, to my bag and out to the street where Sarah was picking me up (from finish line to bag drop amongst 18000 people in 7.5 minutes, a new record). We bolted to the airport, I hauled bags, returned the car, ran to the terminal, only to find our flight was delayed. After 4 hours we made it to West Palm, rented a car, drove to Vero, and on to Orlando. So I woke at 2am, ran a marathon, traveled for 10 hours, all on just two 100 calorie GU shots during the race, both of which I threw up during. The burger that evening when my stomach finally relented was amazing.

A Run Through Time

A Run Through Time might imply the race passes numerous sights from a variety of time periods. However, if you want to run this race in Salida, CO, be ready to run through time, literally. In fact, at some points, time might even stand still. This course ascends into the sky and rolls through the woods where no person would dare to go most parts of the year.

An 8-mile dirt road never relents as it climbs up and up. If there was any grace in the race director’s heart, it would turn there. Instead it turns to ice and a series of roller-coaster hill go to an out and back. It would be nice if the roads didn’t have 6-inches of mud on every long climb and blistering descent.

I started slow, hearing about the course from Leadville stud runner (19:33)Harry Harcrow. Not wanting to get out too fast, I held back and passed my man Brooks at about 3 miles. I continued up and eventually formed a group with JT, Harry, and Ross from Salida. We sloshed through the mud and water until the aid station around 13 miles. I was in about 13th place and we jostled places with a few guys on the way back to the turn off. A long downhill section cranked the legs a little bit but we hit 17.2 as a group of 4. JT and another guy pulled away on the long ice hills while Harry and I walked. When Harry fell back, I decided to go after JT.

Unfortunately, the last 9 miles of the course easily eclipsed the first 17 as the worst section. A snow cat had driven up the hill leaving rutted tire tracks in 2 feet of snow. Awkward footing made me keep kicking the inside of my leg so hard I ended up with cuts on my calf muscles. When there wasn’t snow, there was mud...inches of black, slippery mud. And often, the mud had rocks in it causing ankle rolls every few seconds. There was no rhythm in the run and it took me a long time to catch up to JT. We chatted for a few and I bounded down the hill.

The last 3 miles were pain. All of it was downhill on a dirt road. My legs screamed for the bottom with every switchback turn. I saw a guy ahead of me but I knew that with the time left there was no way of catching him. I crossed in just under 3:55, good for 11th place. I had run very conservative and probably could have gone 10 min faster and a few places better if I pushed the earlier miles, but I needed to be smart. The course was unknown to me (except that it was hard), and I had another marathon the following weekend. I had done 20+ mile long runs the preceding 3 weeks and I am training through. So all in all, a great day. Tim Parr, Andy Henshaw, Nick Clark, and Ryan Birch took the top 4 spots, and losing to those guys is more than acceptable!

South Africa in the Mix

New big news! The family is moving to South Africa. A good group of running clubs await in Johannesburg along with trails, safaris, Great White Sharks, and other dangerous creatures.

The setback: My dream of redemption at Leadville 100 is over. But I am ok with it because I have finished there before.  Now the door is open for another race that was left unfinished.  So on June 5th, I will return to Kettle Moraine 100 to face the humidity and hills again.

The rest of the season remains largely unchanged with a few exceptions.  Next week I am off to Arizona for the Pemberton 50k. It should be a tough one since I have been sick, not running a lot, and facing gods like Ian Torrence.  In March, I will still run back-to-back marathons and then a 50 in April in Colorado.  I am toying with May. I will likely drop a 50k and 52.4 mi in place of some training runs. I'll keep a marathon in the middle of May but it all is turning to KM 100 in June.

Then the new baby will come.  I still have the Leadville Marathon and probably a 50 miler in July before heading out to South Africa.  I am excited about all of the racing opportunities there.  It looks like I can run many races from 5K to 100mi within South Africa. More news to come but absolutely going to be going after the Big 5 marathon, Comrades, and an Ironman while I am there!

Kicking Off 2010

With a big year ahead, the first race of the year is in the bag, and it was a good one. The weather in Phoenix was fantastic, staying in the low 50s. I rolled through the PF Chang’s Rock N’ Roll marathon like it was a Sunday jog. Determined to get a Boston qualifying time, I stayed with the 3:10 pace group for 20 miles. At that point the pacer wanted to back it off but a few of us just wanted to hold the pace. Soon just one guy and I remained and I encouraged him with me to the line in 3:09. It was a 20 min PR for him and I had my time in the first race of the year. It was the easiest race I have ever run – no pain, no struggle. Finished open marathon #25.

In February, I head back to Arizona for a fast 50K. Then in March, I am going to central Colorado for a very hilly marathon. Just a week later it is off to Georgia for another marathon. These shorter, faster races will provide a good speed base for the spring and summer.

In April, the first real test awaits. The Desert RATS 50 miler will provide top-notch competition over difficult terrain. I expect hard trail, and a long day at altitude and in the sun will prove valuable for the summer. Scarcely two weeks later is another 50k, and I am toying with this race. Regardless, in mid-May is another marathon in the mountains. I expect to run hard and place well.

Another short two weeks after that is Memorial Day, and I am heading to Wyoming for a double marathon. It is the same course that I won on a few years ago. Now I just have to do it twice. 52.4 miles will be the longest test of the year leading up to the race.

June is going to be free of races due to a new baby joining us, but without having to work, I will be able to run more trail and longer than usual. July dawns with a serious challenge – the Leadville Marathon. It rockets into the clouds and promises to be a slow, difficult grind. Finally, I am off to southern Colorado for a 50K to end my preparation. Again, I hope to run very well here and end the training on a good note.

It all leads up to the Leadville 100 on August 21. After a finish in 2006 and a DNF in 2009, I want nothing more than to rock this one. My goal is sub-21 hours. I was on this pace during the 2009 race and I am itching to get the sweatshirt to prove it. In addition to the race schedule announced, the main component of my training will be trail runs. Between Team CRUD and the Incline Club, there are more than enough runs near here to simulate the race. I have two trips planned to Leadville for reconnaissance: A double crossing (20 miles) of Hope Pass followed by the Colorado Trail, and a darkness traverse of Sugarloaf Mountain. These are the Crux of the race and I need to really know them. I also am lifting about twice a week and focusing on core several times a week. I will be more ready than ever before.