How Much Discomfort Can I Tolerate?!

North Country Trail Run

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Location:

Eugene,OR,USA

Member Since:

Nov 09, 2007

Gender:

Male

Goal Type:

Other

Running Accomplishments:

  • 5k PR - 18:48 (7/04/08)
  • 8K PR - 33:46 (5/19/07, on trails)
  • 10k PR - I have not run a competitive 10K yet.
  • 12K PR - 50:10 (8/09/08)
  • 15K PR - 1:04:52 (3/22/08)
  • Marathon - Have run 1 trail marathon, (Grand Island) 3:55 (July 2007)
  • Ultra Marathons -
  • Farmdale 33.5 miles, 10/08 - 6:08
  • Riddle Run 28 Miles, 01/09 - 5:35 (run in 2-3 inches of snow)
  • Devil's Lake 50k, 07/09 - 6:22
  • Howl at the Moon 8 hour, 08/09 - 39.98 miles
  • North Country Trail Run 50 miles, 09/09 - 9:44
  • Farmdale 32 miles, 10/09 - 5:45
  • McNotAgain 30 Miles, 10/09 - 5:50
  • Red Rock Canyon Half, Las Vegas, 06/12 - 2:15


Short-Term Running Goals:

Keep running in the winter - 1st year in Eugene - fun!

Long-Term Running Goals:

Keep on Keeping on..

Personal:

Moved to Eugene in Autumn, 2012 - Track city USA!

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Miles:This week: 0.00 Month: 0.00 Year: 0.00
Easy MilesMarathon Pace MilesThreshold MilesVO2 Max MilesTotal Distance
59.000.004.500.0063.50
Easy MilesMarathon Pace MilesThreshold MilesVO2 Max MilesTotal Distance
3.000.003.000.006.00

More 1000m loops at Busey Woods. I look forward to this type of run because it is so much fun, and I gain some speed fitness in a short amount of time.

The past 5 weeks or so I have been feeling great - lots of energy, a good mix of endurance and speed, fast recoveries. Also, the last time my knee bothered me was almost 2 weeks ago during the final miles of a 31.5 mile run. The next day it was fine, and has not bothered me since.

Only a few days remain before I stand at the starting line of the 50 mile North Country Trail Race. Everything feels great, physically and mentally. Because my knee has not been hurting I have confidence that I can finish the run. Not only that, but this is a race where I am planning to give a 100% effort. A few of the races this year have been run for training purposes, and I made sure to give less than a full effort so that I could make a quick recovery. The recent half marathon, the Devil's Lake 50k, even the shorter 7.5 mile trail races have been run at moderate exertion. I did give a full effort at the Howl 8 hour race last month, although I did take it easy during portions of the race (long aid station stops, lots of walking breaks).

So I plan on running the 50 miler this weekend at maximum capacity. I am going to take risks - starting out slowly the first mile or two, but quickening the pace fairly early, maintaining it as long as possible; shorter aid station breaks, if possible - while I feel slowing down and taking my time while refueling is a good strategy for finishing a race, the time does add up, so I want to try getting in and out faster than normal. I am not sure if this will help or hinder the final result, but it is something to try; I plan to run the uphills and downhills, if possible. I will walk on occasion when I feel the need, but not on the hills, that is a place where I can gain time on close competitors, and I love running hills, so no need to walk unless I am bonking.

From the above I can see that my confidence is tangible, however, I am still cognizant that a lot can go wrong during 50 miles of running. My knee may start to hurt; I could fall and injure something; all of my risk taking could backfire, forcing me to bonk and walk many miles. I remember talking with Ken W., a runner who is a little bit faster than me. He told me when he ran a 50 miler last spring he bonked at mile 40 and had to walk the final 10 miles - ouch! I imagined Ken cruising along quickly during the first 30 miles, then starting to feel fatigued at mile 35, but refusing to slow down - and then BAM, it is all over in an instant because the body refuses to take that kind of abuse. I guess the lesson to be learned is to give 100%, but within reason - if my body tells me to slow down, I better listen.

 

Comments(4)
Easy MilesMarathon Pace MilesThreshold MilesVO2 Max MilesTotal Distance
6.000.001.500.007.50

Rachel, Maggie and I went out to Kickapoo again, and so I got a chance to run the beautiful Out & Back trail. My favorite part is running along the #6 mountain bike single track - the steep, twisting, rocky hills make the running exciting and risky.

Even though I ran fairly hard yesterday, I did not want to pass up running at Kickapoo. I ran the trails moderately, not giving too much effort, but the final 1.5 miles I cranked the pace down to 6:15-6:30 and cruised to the finish.

I once again felt really good and strong. Tomorrow I plan to do a few hill sprints and strength exercises, then it is all rest until Saturday.

Comments(6)
Race: North Country Trail Run (50 Miles) 09:44:05, Place overall: 28, Place in age division: 2
Easy MilesMarathon Pace MilesThreshold MilesVO2 Max MilesTotal Distance
50.000.000.000.0050.00

 50 Miles to Redemption II


The 3 weeks prior to the North Country Trail Run had  been my best training for 2009. No knee problems, plenty of energy, and my upper body and leg strength was solid. It was almost as if I had been given a 3 week refresher on what being young feels like, minus the mental/emotional confusion.

The 6 hour drive north to Michigan gave me time to reflect on the upcoming race - strategy, tactics, etc. I was not feeling nervous,  but this in turn made me hesitate - was I being irrationally overconfident in my ability to cover the 50 mile distance?

Perhaps all of the 50 mile blog reports which I had read in the weeks before the race  had given me a false impression that it was a common thing which anyone could do with a bit of preparation and luck. Story after story of people moving up from the marathon distance - after a few months of training, voila, a successfully completed 50 miler. Was it really as easy as they made it sound, or was this yet another example of how reading books/blogs creates fictional realities which exist only in my mind?

I recalled 2 books which I had read of the 1972 world chess championship. Both books covered an interesting scene of a Fisher blowup - one painting the chess genius as courteous and handsome, the other describing him as a man-child with a wicked temper. Both were correct, but if I had read only one of those books I would have had a gross misrepresentation of the future champion.

So I read many 50 mile race reports, hoping to get an accurate feel for what I was about to confront. I found myself disregarding the stories which made the distance seem easy and a finish inevitable, for surely this was not going to be true for me. I wanted to read descriptions of epic meltdowns and brutal pain; laying on one's back after a fall at mile 43, staring at a ruthless gray sky, crying aloud in an awful animal-like angst. What was more inspiring, I wondered - a gifted, handsome runner making a 7 hour finish seem easy, smiling and waving at the camera while crossing into the chute; or a runner with poor genetics and worse luck, having everything go wrong on race day, yet still clinging to the belief that the deuce of clubs can, maybe once, defeat the ace of spades.

In the hotel room the night before the race, I calmly prepared my clothing, shoes, drop bags. I had been fretting about the 2 drop bags for weeks, wondering what should be placed in each. I was unable to make any final plans, wondering about my inability to make what seemed like a simple series of decisions. But with time now running out, I quickly placed the needed items in each bag, and moved onto more interesting things.

The time had come to lay in bed, doing a bit of reading to stoke the fire in my heart, followed by a slip into dream and sleep. I usually read stories of running the night before a race, but I decided this time to return to the source  - Emerson. I opened a book of his Essays, a copy printed in 1883, and found myself reading lines such as "Trust thyself : every heart vibrates to that iron string." "Whoso would be a man, must be a nonconformist." "There is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide." "What I must do is all that concerns me, not what the people think. This rule, equally arduous in actual and in intellectual life, may serve for the whole distinction between greatness and meanness."......

Standing around the Big M trail the next morning, 5 minutes before the stampede, I was still calm and serene - truly a case of ignorance being bliss. The race director was broadcasting music, and this was the first time I had heard something other than Journey or Lynard Skynard at race headquarters - it was the Fleet Foxes singing Ragged Wood!? That could be a portent of good things to come, I hoped.

A group of 225 runners, most running 26.2 miles, the rest doing 50, moved forward into the great, silent light of morning - clear skies, no wind, 45 degrees. To make the distance true, we ran across the parking lot and down a paved road for 1oom, turned around at an orange cone, a volunteer glibly telling us we were doing a great job. A minute later we entered the soft, loamy single track, which we would not leave throughout the day.

The hills began right away, and I had no intention of walking them. It appeared that everyone else had the same plan, for we were all motoring up and down, at what seemed a quick pace. The path did not allow for easy passing, so everyone marched in line to the drum beat of foolishly fast motion.  The majority of the blogs I read have imparted the conviction that the holy grail of running is being in possession of the ability to start a race moderately while at the same time bursting with energy, happiness, and love. The runners who cannot follow this rule are the ones who have lapses in imagination - they cannot picture what the future holds 2 hours hence.

Fortunately my imagination did not fail me on this morning, so I began stepping aside to let runners pass 1 mile into the race. This happened numerous times during the first 3-5 miles. I would hear footsteps, turn around to see a group of runners hauling ass, then step off the trail to let them pass. Because of all the starting and stopping, I was having trouble finding an appropriate rhythm, and I believed I was  pushing too hard. I reminded myself that if I was lucky I would still be running as the sun was setting, and I presently could not yet see the sun because it had not risen above the tree line - it was going to be a long day.

During this first 5 mile segment, other than pushing a bit too hard, I noticed how good I felt. I was stepping quietly on the trail so that I could not hear my feet grazing the ground. As I passed a runner he said, "your too quiet."  I knew he wasn't talking about my lack of morning wit, so that made me feel good. I made sure to look closely at the surrounding landscape, and was surprised how hilly it was. The course description on the entry form ("The trail is a single-track hiking trail with enough hills to make for a challenging race. There is no high altitude to contend with, no rocks to jump over, and no stream crossings to wade through, just a beautiful forest with a few roots to remind you you’re not on pavement.") made me think there would be 25-35% hills. Why I thought this I don't know - perhaps if they would have left out the part on what the course did not have, I would have focused more on what it did have - a fair amount of hills, as in 70-80%.

The first aid station at mile 4 popped into view quicker than expected. I recalled my first ultra at Farmdale, and how it seemed as if an hour had passed before arriving at the aid table. So I was already into the desired running trance, and as I headed to aid station two 3 miles away I caught up with a man who seemed to be uncomfortable with his form. When he noticed me behind him, he told me his stomach was upset. We started a conversation and I found out this was his first 50 miler also. He was a 3:30 marathoner, so a little faster than me. He asked if I had any time goals for the race. "If I'm having a good day I'd be happy with 10 hours, but most likely I'll be finishing between 11-12." "Hey, I'm shooting for 10 also. We should run the race together." This request/suggestion struck me as an unwise idea - because of his stomach issues he was moving slower than I wanted to at the moment, and later on he would probably want to go faster than my pace. I learned a while ago that following another's pace, even in a spirit of camaraderie, kills the race. Running slower than I should be uses just as much energy as running too fast. I was uncertain how to answer, so I didn't say anything. We ran along for about a half mile, and when he started to walk a hill I decided it was time for me to move ahead. We slapped hands as I passed, wished each other luck, and went our own ways.

The single track was beautiful, the day was warming into the 60's, and the forest was quiet and heavy with tree sap. I glimpsed the sun rising into the tree line. I was not wearing a watch, so the sun was my time piece.  My plan was to keep running until the sun was sinking into the western trees. I was now in the midst of the challenge. After thinking and analyzing about this day for months, actually, for the past 20 years, I felt satisfaction in having come so close to achieving this crazy dream of mine.

I was wearing a black long sleeved shirt over my black singlet, and planned to remove it at the 13.4 mile drop bag/aid station. I was not carrying a water bottle, but planned to pick one up at my drop bag. I had filled it with a lemonade/chia seed mixture,  knowing it would go down well at that point of the run.

When I rolled into the 2nd aid station at mile 7.1 I felt my lower knee give way for a moment. I groaned - how, why, and what the hell?! I had felt nothing but love from the knee for the past 5 weeks, and now on race day, only 7 miles in, it decides to shoot me into runner's hell? After eating a salted potato and a pbj slice I made my way back toward the trail, the knee feeling fine. Perhaps the hilly terrain irritated it, but hadn't I worked hard on the hills at home? I decided that if the knee was going to be in constant pain, I would stop at the end of the 25 mile loop. There is always another day to fight.

I tried to forget about the knee, and it was easy enough because it wasn't hurting. I had moved somewhat quickly through the two aid stations, but still slower than most of the other runners who were nearby. The trail was starting to get quiet, runners were spreading out, and I got into a nice groove, experiencing the silent drama of the woods. I was feeling fresh, and I wanted this feeling to last as long as possible.

As I left the 3rd aid station at mile 10.2 I overheard one of the volunteers ask who was running 50 miles. Only one man raised his hand, and I took note of him. About a mile down the trail I stopped to stretch my legs on a ridgeline. I saw the 50 mile guy run by, along with a few marathoners. When I started running again they were out of sight, but because I was running all the hills I soon caught up to Mr. 50. I decided to follow him and he turned back to me and introduced himself. I usually dislike talking during races, but I was feeling comfortable and we discussed our running histories. His name was David, and he had run numerous 50's and was hoping, like me, to one day attempt a 100 mile race. We discovered that we had both run the Grand Island Trail Marathon back in '07.

Arriving together at the half way aid station, mile 13.4, David  did not stop to eat or drink, he just kept motoring along. I was sorry to see him leave, but I had been looking forward to this aid station because I could shed my long sleeved shirt (it was now in the upper 60's) and drink my lemonade. I also drank a V8, ate a few nuts, and grabbed a kiwi for the trail.

The woods were now dappled in warm light, and I ran in solitude, enjoying the quiet, just like on a training run. I was feeling strong and fresh, and the food and drink had nourished me. I was able to keep a steady pace throughout the next couple of aid stations. Miles 13-21 had the least amount of hills, so there was some easy flat running through small stretches of sun drenched land.

At mile 19 I came upon 2 athletic, muscular men. They did not appear to like being passed by a small skinny guy, so they picked up their pace and followed me. One of them was an ultra expert, because he was giving advice, and I overheard him say, "running these hills is gonna make you pay later". He was talking with his friend, but maybe he was aiming it at me? He was probably right, but I had my plan, and I was sticking with it. I decided to let them get ahead, so I stopped for a walking break on the flat. About a mile later I passed them because one of them had taken a fall and was banged up. I asked if he was ok, and he said yeah, so I kept on my way and never saw them again.

When I was getting close to aid station #7, mile 24.1, I caught up with David on a long hill. I was still running everything that had an incline, and David was walking some of longer ones, which seemed more numerous as we neared the end of the loop. After the aid station we decided to run the last mile together to the start/finish area. I was happy to see that the final mile was a gradual down hill, so the last mile of the race was hopefully not going to be too difficult.

When we entered the open area at loops end a woman called out our names and said we were 50 mile runners. The crowd cheered, and I was happy to have reached one of my goals for the race - to feel somewhat fresh at the end of the first loop. As I left David I said, "now the real race begins". I noticed that the finish clock read 4:44.

So far I was having a great race, but there was still 25 miles to go, and anything could happen. I watched David efficiently get out of the aid station and back onto the trail, while I stuffed my face with gels, fruit, nuts, and refilled my bottle with lemonade. I figured it would be a while until I saw David again, but that was ok, we each had to run our own race.

I started the 2nd loop with a 200m walk. I wanted to make sure I felt fresh beginning what I knew was going to be a difficult 25 miles. I looked into the sky and saw the sun high overhead. I was racing the sun, and keeping up with it so far!

The first 4 miles did not seem as easy as the first time, and the hills seemed longer and steeper. I surprisingly caught up with David because he was walking the hills. I passed him on a long ascent, and he said, "your one tough runner, James." I told him I wished I could move out of an aid station as fast as he could, and then I left him on the hill, not to see him again until after I had finished.

I was now on my own, the day growing warmer, quieter, the solitude creating a nice space in which I could grab hold of a long, eloquent running trance. Once I had it I did not want to let go. I was alone for the next 12 miles, gliding with the light, hiding in the shadows. I was expecting some major problems during this loop, but thus far nothing befell me but good fortune. No blisters or stomach problems, and I had only peed once, even my quads were holding up against the unrelenting hills.

When I arrived at aid station 2, mile 32.2, I saw two young female runners taking a break at the table. After I dunked my head in water I asked them how long we had been on the course - I was curious to know my approximate 50k split. They told me we were at 5:52, so subtracting 12 minutes to bring me back to mile 31 means I hit the split at 5:40. I was pleased with this, because I remembered my time at Devil's Lake was 6:22.

I ran a bit with the girls until the next aid station, mile 35.2. As I was getting ready to leave the station I saw one of the girls walk off the trail into the brush, I thought she had gotten lost, but then I saw her pull her shorts down. She saw me coming and laughed. I said "oops!" and quickly turned around and walked back to the aid table to eat another potato :)

The girl who had pulled her shorts down would slow up on the next segment, and I only saw her freind, who flew down the trail ahead of me. Before she was out of sight she called out, "I want this race to be over!" I realized I was still having a great time, and did not want it to end. I was in a Zen state, not rushing, remaining centered. The place to be was here, mile 37, aid station 4 soon approaching.

I was back on my own, passing a few hurting runners who were now walking. I had the urge to pee at mile 40, so I walked off trail and as I stood waiting for it I felt my blood pressure drop and I was worried I was going to faint. Just as I was about to lay down and elevate my legs my pressure stabilized, and I concentrated on peeing. I stood there, whispering "no blood, no blood, no blood..."  - it was clear.

The woods suddenly seemed sinister and sullen, and I had the sinking sensation that I had taken a wrong turn and was now lost. This was the worst possible time to get lost, because fatigue was  settling in, and the last thing I needed was to waste my energy on finding my out of a dark, lonely forest. As I ran along, trying to recognize a guide post or tree, I thought of Greg's 100 mile report, and how he believed he was lost late in his race. He called his sister, and they both soon realized he was on the right trail. I had no one to call, and even if I did, I didn't have a cell phone. I considered turning around, but kept moving forward while trying to decide. I slowed down, and even walked a hill, hoping someone would catch up to me, but whenever I  turned around all I saw were heavy tree shadows and a silent sun. Just as I was about to give up hope, I saw a female runner, but she was running toward me! "Oh no, %$#@, *&^%, !@#$!!, now I was going to have to turn around and head back to where I had come from.  I stood still on the trail and asked as she approached, "I'm lost, right?" "NO!, Your doing great, only 1 mile to the aid station, keep on going!" I was so relieved to hear that, so I continued on my way in a much lighter mood, forgetting to ask where the heck she was running to.

As I approached aid station 5, mile 42.1, the volunteers went nuts, cheering, telling me I looked great. I knew it wasn't true, but it was good to hear nonetheless :) After filling up on food and drink, and even an S cap as a precaution, one of the volunteers told me, "only 7.9 miles to go!"  As I walked out of the station sucking on a gel pack I thought, "only 1 Kickapoo Out and Back and it's all over!" I was excited because I knew how much I had enjoyed last weeks run at Kickapoo, and it only took 70 minutes of relaxed running. I'm not sure why I  thought I could run relaxed for this stretch of 7.9 miles, but I believed I could, so I started up, a little slower, a little stiffer, but my form was still good, I was still light on my feet, and I was still racing the sun, which was now inching closer to the trees. The day was getting on, and so was I.

At mile 44 I felt a peculiar sensation, as if someone were thinking of me and sending good vibes. I thought of JD, because he told me he was going to do just that, and I realized that he must be finishing up his marathon - "GO JD" I yelled  into the trees.  I wanted to laugh, but instead was overwhelmed with emotion and felt like crying.  A couple of minutes later I found myself running up a long hill, and I wanted to cry again because somehow I was still running up a hill at mile 44. I felt proud at that moment, knowing my training had paid off. I also knew that I was most likely going to finish the race. I had not thought of that until now, and it was amazing to imagine achieving a 20 year goal. I still did not believe I could run for an entire day, but the big old sun was sinking lower, and I could sometimes see my lanky, crooked shadow running in the ferns beside me.

I reached aid station 6, mile 46. I saw an old guy with gray hair, I couldn't tell if he had caught up with me, or I him, but we were now even, basking in the glow of a run almost complete. We took off down the trail together, and I asked him how long we had been running. "8 hours and 59 minutes" was his reply. "Are we going to finish in under 10 hours?" I asked. "Oh yeah, you know it".  4 miles in one hour, could I do it?  Just like at Howl, I could not add up time and distance correctly. Of course I could run 4 miles in 1 hour, however, if I walked a portion of the trail, then....

So I started running faster, feeling more at ease, and even though I was now walking some of the longer hills, I was still trying to run some of them, and was pulling away from the old guy. I caught up with a young lady on one of the hills, and decided to slow down and follow her into the last aid station. I wanted to make sure I still had something left for that final downhill mile.

When we reached the final aid station, mile 49.1, I splashed some water on my head and headed up the final hill. When we neared the top I called out, "do you have anything left for a kick?" "I don't know, but I'm gonna run it as hard as I can." I liked her answer, and thought, "just one Busey Woods loop, and it's all over!" It was as if I had run a 49 mile recovery jog, and was now ready for my lone interval. I felt my legs  rev and pop and the adrenaline started to flow. I passed the girl and got into my interval pace, clipping along at 6:30-45 pace - of course this wasn't too hard since I was going down hill :) But my form was still there, and I felt like I was just starting a set of reps. It was too good to be true, but it really was happening.

With 200m to go I pass a guy standing by himself on the side of the trail and he yells out, "your running too good for this part of the race, they are not gonna believe you!" I smiled and kept on galloping, my favorite part of the rep, when I kick it in, legs circling like a bike, arms moving fast, breath heavy but controlled. I see the path come to an end and the space opens up to cheering people. "#75, 50 mile finisher!" People clapping and shouting, I flow in, and finally, finally! come to a... stop - 9 hours, 44 minutes, 05 seconds after taking my first step.

I walked around a bit, happy, elated, feeling tired, but strong. I drink and eat, and then wait at the side of the chute for David. I know he is going to finish in under 10 hours, and at 9:56 I see him and before he stops he slaps my hand, and I cheer him to a great finish.

A little later David calls over to me, "James, you want some chocolate milk?" Whoa, that sounds incredibly right, and soul nourishing! I rush over to him and take the Deans Choco Chug, pop it open, and as I gulp it down, I eye the sun, still in the sky, heading for the trees. Feeling the milk energize me, I realize I still have not run from sun up to sun down. Today was close, but I fell short. "I have to make a phone call and run an errand, you gonna be around later, James?" "I'm gonna walk around a bit, then drive back to my hotel and crash." We say goodbye, and I walk down the sandy path by myself, gazing at the trees.  Dusk light is coming on, there are runners still out there, facing down the day.

Comments(11)
Easy MilesMarathon Pace MilesThreshold MilesVO2 Max MilesTotal Distance
59.000.004.500.0063.50
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