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The Rocky Raccoon Endurance run is a 100 mile and 50 mile trail run that winds through the Huntsville State Park. The trails are rooty, somewhat sandy in spots, and there are a few rolling hills that looked worse after the first couple of loops. The 50 mile race consisted of three 16 and 2/3 mile loops. I had been training for this race for the past 6 months. In preparation, I ran two very difficult 50k races: The Louisiana Trails 50k in Shreveport, and Bandera 50k race in the Hill Country. I felt like I was in good condition, but was a little unsure of the distance. Another concern was the rain. It had been raining for several days, and there was concern that the trails were going to be a muddy mess.
On race day, it was 39 degrees at the start and practically no wind. To me, it was a perfect day for a 50 mile run. The high would only get to around 53 according to the weather reports. I ran with a long sleeve technical shirt, trail shorts and a hat and I was comfortable.
I started off fairly conservatively, running easy behind David McCaghran who went with me to the race. I ran the first 16 2/3 mile loop in around 3 hours and 40 minutes and was feeling great. The trails were in pretty good shape considering how much rain they had. There were a few spots that were flooded and pretty sloppy...but otherwise, the trails were runnable. I ran the second loop and was still feeling fine. I came around and started the third loop, stopped and got my light, as the last section of the third loop would be in the dark.
Somewhere around mile 40, it dawned on me that I was weak, tired, and my legs and feet were killing me. My back was sore and getting worse. I had hot spots that I was sure were going to turn into full-blown blisters. I went into the Dam Road Aid Station feeling down. I ate some hot soup there, drank some water, took a few more electrolyte tablets and started off again. Mentally, my game was shot, and I still had 10 miles to go. To make it worse, it was getting cold again. I was shivering, running somewhat alone down the backstretch of Dam road was intense. I could see things moving in the woods. I'm pretty sure it was just a raccoon, but just the thought that alligators are in the park kept me alert. I don't think anybody has ever seen one on a trail race day...but the thought is somewhere deep inside you somewhere.
I forced myself to keep moving, and it was getting dark. I fixed my light, got it just right, stepped into a few mud puddles because I couldn't see to go around. I reached the last Aid Station feeling like I had been hit by a truck. But, I only had 4 and half miles left to go, and somewhere, I reached down and grabbed something from deep within myself and ran pretty well the last few miles. When I reached the wooden footbridges by the lake, I could hear frogs, crickets, and birds and it was like listening to a symphony of nature....and I knew I could not trip on the boards, so I just kept going, willing my legs to finish this race. I finished the race in 13 hours and some change, and crossing the finish line never felt so good.
Afterward, David and I were so tired, and it was getting late, so we ordered a pizza, had a couple of cold Sam Adams, and sacked out.
It was a long day in the park, and today, as I sit here writing this, the pain doesn't seem as bad. You have to possess a short memory to run events like this, because if you remembered the pain exactly as you experienced it during the run, you might not ever run another one. I'm putting this run into the memory banks as I remember it this monday morning....just a long day in the park!
Monday, February 8, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Bandera 50k Trail Run: A "winter" blast!
I had been looking forward to this run for a long time, and had been one of the very first to register, but the closer this event came to becoming a reality, the more nervous I was getting. It is known as one of the top 50k races in the country, and definitely one of the hardest Texas runs around.
I have been training for months for this race, trying to build up to running the massive hills I knew would be represented at Bandera. I ran in the cold, I ran hill repeats, I ran hill cycles, and I averaged over 50 miles a week, and capped it off with a 60 mile week three weeks out from the race date. I trained in San Angelo on the trails at San Angelo State Park. I trained on rocky trails, dirt trails, muddy trails, and tried to emulate every condition I could think of. I have not worked this hard for an event for a very long time.
Then, just a week or so before the event, an Arctic blast of cold air came down out of Canada, ensuring that if the conditions weren't already going to be tough enough, let's get some single digit temps out there to test our fortitude. Sure enough, race day condition: it was 9 degrees at race time.
As I approached the starting line, the race director informed me that the race had already started, so I could "take off" anytime. I took off, glad to be doing anything but standing still in that cold morning, but the trail immediately began with a steep incline on a monstrous hill called Cairns Climb. It was one of the most difficult climbs I have ever been on, and that was the first mile or so...then the real hills hit. Boyles Bump, Ice Cream Hill, and one they called the "Big Nasty," and the title was accurate. We climbed hills for the first ten miles, and my feet were already scraped raw and blistered from the rocky terrain. Those downhills were the worst. I stopped at the 15 mile aid station, put some bandaids on what I thought was a blister on one of my toes, and the guy at the aid station said, "that's not a blister, the flesh is just gone." I put a bandaid on it and kept trucking. A little vaseline for the other toes, and I moved on.
The hills were more like mountains, and no sooner did we reach the top of one, than we were climbing another. I had to admit, I was running slow, but strong. I had been in the weight room a lot in my training, and lifting weights definitely helped me up those monster hills. I had stopped at one of the last aid stations, and the guys told me there was only 4.75 miles left, so I envisioned running the last few miles at a good clip and finishing somewhere around my time goal of 7 hours, but he failed to mention the rest of the hills that remained. They were some of the most torturous, and at one point, as I stood looking up at one of those hills, I really didn't know if I could go on, but somehow, I managed to keep putting one leg in front of the other. Eventually, I reached the last aid station, and they told me I only had a half mile left to the finish line. I gritted my teeth and hustled in, and crossed that finish line with my legs trashed, my calves throbbing, and every muscle in my body aching, but I did it, and as I crossed over, I saw my friend Laurie standing there, and we talked for awhile about how "humbling" this run was. I think in the grander scheme of things, we never really know what we are capable of until we do something that tries our character.
This race has it all: monstrous hills, cactus, biting plants, horse shit all over the trails, rocky terrain,torturous downhills that invited sliding down on your butt at times. Rocks and boulders, and climbing, climbing, climbing!
I do have to pay big compliments to the aid stations and the volunteers. In all the races I have run, there has never been better aid stations and volunteers than at Bandera. They are experienced trail and ultra runners, and just plain nice, caring, helpful people. They had everything that an ultra runner needs to complete such a journey. Without them, I'm not sure I would have made it.
I also met some of the nicest people on this run, and the cameraderie in these types of races is incredible. I made some new friends, and had a wonderfully, crazy, torturous time!
I'm looking forward to doing something really fun next, like the 50 mile race at Rocky Raccoon in Huntsville. It's flat, so what could go wrong there? Okay, so I have a short memory of the pain of these kinds of events......!!!!!!
I have been training for months for this race, trying to build up to running the massive hills I knew would be represented at Bandera. I ran in the cold, I ran hill repeats, I ran hill cycles, and I averaged over 50 miles a week, and capped it off with a 60 mile week three weeks out from the race date. I trained in San Angelo on the trails at San Angelo State Park. I trained on rocky trails, dirt trails, muddy trails, and tried to emulate every condition I could think of. I have not worked this hard for an event for a very long time.
Then, just a week or so before the event, an Arctic blast of cold air came down out of Canada, ensuring that if the conditions weren't already going to be tough enough, let's get some single digit temps out there to test our fortitude. Sure enough, race day condition: it was 9 degrees at race time.
As I approached the starting line, the race director informed me that the race had already started, so I could "take off" anytime. I took off, glad to be doing anything but standing still in that cold morning, but the trail immediately began with a steep incline on a monstrous hill called Cairns Climb. It was one of the most difficult climbs I have ever been on, and that was the first mile or so...then the real hills hit. Boyles Bump, Ice Cream Hill, and one they called the "Big Nasty," and the title was accurate. We climbed hills for the first ten miles, and my feet were already scraped raw and blistered from the rocky terrain. Those downhills were the worst. I stopped at the 15 mile aid station, put some bandaids on what I thought was a blister on one of my toes, and the guy at the aid station said, "that's not a blister, the flesh is just gone." I put a bandaid on it and kept trucking. A little vaseline for the other toes, and I moved on.
The hills were more like mountains, and no sooner did we reach the top of one, than we were climbing another. I had to admit, I was running slow, but strong. I had been in the weight room a lot in my training, and lifting weights definitely helped me up those monster hills. I had stopped at one of the last aid stations, and the guys told me there was only 4.75 miles left, so I envisioned running the last few miles at a good clip and finishing somewhere around my time goal of 7 hours, but he failed to mention the rest of the hills that remained. They were some of the most torturous, and at one point, as I stood looking up at one of those hills, I really didn't know if I could go on, but somehow, I managed to keep putting one leg in front of the other. Eventually, I reached the last aid station, and they told me I only had a half mile left to the finish line. I gritted my teeth and hustled in, and crossed that finish line with my legs trashed, my calves throbbing, and every muscle in my body aching, but I did it, and as I crossed over, I saw my friend Laurie standing there, and we talked for awhile about how "humbling" this run was. I think in the grander scheme of things, we never really know what we are capable of until we do something that tries our character.
This race has it all: monstrous hills, cactus, biting plants, horse shit all over the trails, rocky terrain,torturous downhills that invited sliding down on your butt at times. Rocks and boulders, and climbing, climbing, climbing!
I do have to pay big compliments to the aid stations and the volunteers. In all the races I have run, there has never been better aid stations and volunteers than at Bandera. They are experienced trail and ultra runners, and just plain nice, caring, helpful people. They had everything that an ultra runner needs to complete such a journey. Without them, I'm not sure I would have made it.
I also met some of the nicest people on this run, and the cameraderie in these types of races is incredible. I made some new friends, and had a wonderfully, crazy, torturous time!
I'm looking forward to doing something really fun next, like the 50 mile race at Rocky Raccoon in Huntsville. It's flat, so what could go wrong there? Okay, so I have a short memory of the pain of these kinds of events......!!!!!!
Monday, November 23, 2009
Trail running versus Road Running
I was talking to a friend of mine the other day who had just run the San Antonio marathon, and he kept referring to the scenery, which of course, he was talking about the city itself...the buildings, the landscape, etc...and I had just returned from running the Louisiana Trails 50k in Shreveport, Louisiana. My run was held strictly within a pristine Louisiana forest, which was reminiscent of the Piney Woods region of Texas.
I am always amazed at what people call "a good view." I can say the same thing about myself, as I have stood at the top of the Sears Tower building in Chicago, amazed at the view, and it was cool seeing Wrigley Field and other great sites. But I have always thought that "a good view" was one that contained mountains, trees, rivers, lakes, flowers, birds, and deer. Running around city streets, seeing buildings, cars, people, parking lots, with signs everywhere, smelling exhaust fumes always seemed so alien to me.
Running on roads at some large events around the country have their appeal, though. I love the energy that is represented at some of the larger marathons, such as Houston, Dallas, Fort Worth, and others. People are in a spirit unlike any other event, and moving together with thousands of other runners is a sociological phenomenon like no other!
However, trail runs are much more low key, with no starting pistols, no flyovers, no bands, and no crowds cheering you on toward the finish. And usually, by the time you finish one of those long 50k's or 50 mile races, most of the people are gone, and you are left to cross the finish line on your own with no fanfare. But the rewards are such that no one can explain except through experience. The forest is alive with energy, the trails are inviting, the leaves cover the forest floor, and during the fall season, the leaves are changing colors. Most trail runs are conducted in such environments, and its a no-no to leave trash on the trail...in road races, the roads are littered with paper cups, energy gel packets and empty water bottles. In a trail race, you can be disqualified for littering.
There are also hazards in a trail race you won't face on the roads. For example, the roots will reach out and grab you, especially as you tire after running 20 or more miles. Rocks will tear your feet to shreds. The downhills can be treacherous, and if you fall, you could break something, or twist an ankle fairly easily. On the other hand, in a road race, you still may have to contend with vehicles that don't want to wait for runners to cross a road. Exhaust fumes may overwhelm you. People that line up alongside the road to gawk at runners may say stupid things. During one road marathon in Houston, I passed by some people that were making fun of runners who were slower, and looked "funny" to them. I overheard one spectator say out loud, "they all look so bizzare!" She was looking at us as if we were odd spectacles from another planet.
I often wondered, too, if people really needed those crowds to cheer for them. Running is an individual sport, and running alone is sometimes a great time for introspection. Do people really need rock bands scattered every mile in order to be so distracted that they don't realize that running a marathon is difficult? On the other hand, I enjoyed hearing the many bands I have heard along the way.
Trail runners seem to be different sorts of animals, too. They are often older than the average road runners. They are kinder, it seems. More laid back. I watched two runners nearing the end of their 50k race (31.2 miles) turn around and run two miles backward to find aid for a fallen runner once. When runners fall, others stop what they are doing to check on you to see if you are ok.
Back to the "view," I still don't see city buildings as scenic, but I will admit that both types of races are still exciting, and I find interesting things about both, but trail running, without the accolades, big money, cheering crowds, and pristine forests is quite alluring. Everyone should try it...or not! Trail runs are starting to get crowded. For some of the largest races, it is almost impossible to get registered for a race. Waiting lists are common, now, and when registration opens, most interesting trail runs can close quickly.
I am happy to have discovered trail runs, and I long for the next one, although, by the time I have run 30 or so miles through those pristine forests, I am more than ready for a good "view" of a city, a steak, and a cold beer!
I am always amazed at what people call "a good view." I can say the same thing about myself, as I have stood at the top of the Sears Tower building in Chicago, amazed at the view, and it was cool seeing Wrigley Field and other great sites. But I have always thought that "a good view" was one that contained mountains, trees, rivers, lakes, flowers, birds, and deer. Running around city streets, seeing buildings, cars, people, parking lots, with signs everywhere, smelling exhaust fumes always seemed so alien to me.
Running on roads at some large events around the country have their appeal, though. I love the energy that is represented at some of the larger marathons, such as Houston, Dallas, Fort Worth, and others. People are in a spirit unlike any other event, and moving together with thousands of other runners is a sociological phenomenon like no other!
However, trail runs are much more low key, with no starting pistols, no flyovers, no bands, and no crowds cheering you on toward the finish. And usually, by the time you finish one of those long 50k's or 50 mile races, most of the people are gone, and you are left to cross the finish line on your own with no fanfare. But the rewards are such that no one can explain except through experience. The forest is alive with energy, the trails are inviting, the leaves cover the forest floor, and during the fall season, the leaves are changing colors. Most trail runs are conducted in such environments, and its a no-no to leave trash on the trail...in road races, the roads are littered with paper cups, energy gel packets and empty water bottles. In a trail race, you can be disqualified for littering.
There are also hazards in a trail race you won't face on the roads. For example, the roots will reach out and grab you, especially as you tire after running 20 or more miles. Rocks will tear your feet to shreds. The downhills can be treacherous, and if you fall, you could break something, or twist an ankle fairly easily. On the other hand, in a road race, you still may have to contend with vehicles that don't want to wait for runners to cross a road. Exhaust fumes may overwhelm you. People that line up alongside the road to gawk at runners may say stupid things. During one road marathon in Houston, I passed by some people that were making fun of runners who were slower, and looked "funny" to them. I overheard one spectator say out loud, "they all look so bizzare!" She was looking at us as if we were odd spectacles from another planet.
I often wondered, too, if people really needed those crowds to cheer for them. Running is an individual sport, and running alone is sometimes a great time for introspection. Do people really need rock bands scattered every mile in order to be so distracted that they don't realize that running a marathon is difficult? On the other hand, I enjoyed hearing the many bands I have heard along the way.
Trail runners seem to be different sorts of animals, too. They are often older than the average road runners. They are kinder, it seems. More laid back. I watched two runners nearing the end of their 50k race (31.2 miles) turn around and run two miles backward to find aid for a fallen runner once. When runners fall, others stop what they are doing to check on you to see if you are ok.
Back to the "view," I still don't see city buildings as scenic, but I will admit that both types of races are still exciting, and I find interesting things about both, but trail running, without the accolades, big money, cheering crowds, and pristine forests is quite alluring. Everyone should try it...or not! Trail runs are starting to get crowded. For some of the largest races, it is almost impossible to get registered for a race. Waiting lists are common, now, and when registration opens, most interesting trail runs can close quickly.
I am happy to have discovered trail runs, and I long for the next one, although, by the time I have run 30 or so miles through those pristine forests, I am more than ready for a good "view" of a city, a steak, and a cold beer!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Louisiana Trails 50k
The Louisiana Trails 50k was located in Shreveport, Louisiana in Eddie Jones Park. It is listed as 98% single track trails that winds around a Chimpanzee Haven, a facility where Chimpanzees have been rescued, and are living out the remainder of their lives.
The event also hosted a full marathon and half marathon. The course was a loop of 13.1 miles, so the 50k'ers ran two loops and a special loop at the end to complete the 50k distance.
I attended the event with David McCaghren and Gary Garson. We stayed in Bossier City the night before, and ate in a great place called Notini's. If you are ever in that area, this is a restaurant that is highly recommended. I stuffed myself with Spaghetti and meat sauce...if I had it all to do over again, I would order the smaller plate, because the meal they brought out to me would have fed an entire African village.
The park was about 30 miles away from our hotel, so we left about six to get to the race. When we arrived, the energy was already in the air. We jogged around, got loose, received our instructions and I love the way the race started. There was no firing of a gun, just the race directer shouting out: Go! Off we went.
David and I stayed together for the first 13.1 mile loop. We were passing people along the route, and I was really enjoying the nice pace, and the rollercoaster hills. There were a lot of roots on this trail, especially since the recent rains washed away a lot of the topsoil, exposing even more roots than normal. At one point, while struggling with my water bottle, and trying to open a Hammer Gel pack, I hit a low lying tree branch, missed the beginning of a small downhill, and tumbled head over heels. I did a nice roll, though, and was back up on my feet quickly enough.
We aproached the end of the first loop in 2:30, and I was quite pleased with my effort at this point. I had to make a pitstop at a restroom before I started the second loop, while David continued on. As I began my second loop, I turned the wrong way and spent about 20 minutes trying to find my way...not to mention trying to negotiate a hill that was pretty steep while I was trying to figure out where I was supposed to go. That's when I met an ER doctor, who had turned the wrong way, as well. Three or four other runners came down the hill and we all were lost for awhile, until we retraced our steps and found the original trail again.
The second 13.1 mile loop was not as kind as the first, as I decided to run much more conservatively. The roots seemed to be more evident, and I tripped and fell at least three times, each time I hit the ground, my calves would cramp up a bit more than the time before. The doctor I was running with was ready to quit, but I talked him into staying with it. We began to walk the uphill sections and run the downhills and the more runnable areas. This was a pretty hilly course, with a lot of rollercoaster hills, and some sizeable ups and downs.
As I finished the second loop, I realized I was not going to break 7 hours because of the 20 minutes I lost while trying to find my way at the beginning of the second loop. But, I ate a bag of jellybeans, drank some more Cytomax and finished the last 5 miles pretty strong, despite running the last 11 miles with major cramps in my feet and calves. I finished in 7:18.
All in all, I loved this event. It was a hard course, but I love a good challenge, and I'm hoping it was a good workout for Bandera in January, as I am running the 50k there, next.
My friend Gary came in somewhere around 7:42, and David had a great run on that course, for a finishing time of 6:30, which was pretty good for such a tough course. I highly recommend this trail race...it was well organized, and the money went to finance missions work in Central America. Good times!
Jerry Hollingsworth
The event also hosted a full marathon and half marathon. The course was a loop of 13.1 miles, so the 50k'ers ran two loops and a special loop at the end to complete the 50k distance.
I attended the event with David McCaghren and Gary Garson. We stayed in Bossier City the night before, and ate in a great place called Notini's. If you are ever in that area, this is a restaurant that is highly recommended. I stuffed myself with Spaghetti and meat sauce...if I had it all to do over again, I would order the smaller plate, because the meal they brought out to me would have fed an entire African village.
The park was about 30 miles away from our hotel, so we left about six to get to the race. When we arrived, the energy was already in the air. We jogged around, got loose, received our instructions and I love the way the race started. There was no firing of a gun, just the race directer shouting out: Go! Off we went.
David and I stayed together for the first 13.1 mile loop. We were passing people along the route, and I was really enjoying the nice pace, and the rollercoaster hills. There were a lot of roots on this trail, especially since the recent rains washed away a lot of the topsoil, exposing even more roots than normal. At one point, while struggling with my water bottle, and trying to open a Hammer Gel pack, I hit a low lying tree branch, missed the beginning of a small downhill, and tumbled head over heels. I did a nice roll, though, and was back up on my feet quickly enough.
We aproached the end of the first loop in 2:30, and I was quite pleased with my effort at this point. I had to make a pitstop at a restroom before I started the second loop, while David continued on. As I began my second loop, I turned the wrong way and spent about 20 minutes trying to find my way...not to mention trying to negotiate a hill that was pretty steep while I was trying to figure out where I was supposed to go. That's when I met an ER doctor, who had turned the wrong way, as well. Three or four other runners came down the hill and we all were lost for awhile, until we retraced our steps and found the original trail again.
The second 13.1 mile loop was not as kind as the first, as I decided to run much more conservatively. The roots seemed to be more evident, and I tripped and fell at least three times, each time I hit the ground, my calves would cramp up a bit more than the time before. The doctor I was running with was ready to quit, but I talked him into staying with it. We began to walk the uphill sections and run the downhills and the more runnable areas. This was a pretty hilly course, with a lot of rollercoaster hills, and some sizeable ups and downs.
As I finished the second loop, I realized I was not going to break 7 hours because of the 20 minutes I lost while trying to find my way at the beginning of the second loop. But, I ate a bag of jellybeans, drank some more Cytomax and finished the last 5 miles pretty strong, despite running the last 11 miles with major cramps in my feet and calves. I finished in 7:18.
All in all, I loved this event. It was a hard course, but I love a good challenge, and I'm hoping it was a good workout for Bandera in January, as I am running the 50k there, next.
My friend Gary came in somewhere around 7:42, and David had a great run on that course, for a finishing time of 6:30, which was pretty good for such a tough course. I highly recommend this trail race...it was well organized, and the money went to finance missions work in Central America. Good times!
Jerry Hollingsworth
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Knee Injury, Missing Races, and the Five Stages of Grief
Having a knee injury is one of the most disappointing injuries one can have. It's one of those injuries that could sideline you for a while, and well, if you have already fronted money out for registration fees and made hotel reservations, and made plans with friends to some races you were looking forward to, then life just seems to "suck."
I trained harder for El Scorcho 50k summer ultra run, than I did for the 50 miler at Sunmart, and was determined to run well in the heat. I had undergone extensive heat acclimation workouts, took long runs in the country, performed core training, mountain training, running at altitude, and a strength and weight training program, as well as two-a-day workouts,and was looking forward to the race with gusto!
Then, it happened...the knee injury. It happened on the very first day of my two-a-day workouts. I had run an easy 4 miler in the morning, and in the afternoon, I did a long tempo speed workout, and it felt great. Later, while walking through the grocery store, my knee froze up and I thought I was going to faint dead away. I struggled through a few more workouts before realizing it was not going to go away. All I could think about was not being able to run the Summer Solstice run at Redbud...and in my own perverted thinking, I figured I would be fine for El Scorcho, but it was not to be.
Finally, after I realized things were not going to heal in a few days, I started going through the five stages of grief: Denial was first, as I kept trying to work out on it...icing it down every two hours, massaging it, wearing protective braces, etc...but finally, I began to: Be angry! I was really mad that I was missing my races, and then, to make matters worse, I started feeling alienated, as I couldn't workout on Saturday mornings with my friends. Then along came Bargaining...making deals with God, promising to be a better person if only he would heal my injury, but...it kept hurting.
Then depression set in...I refused to show up at the Summer solstice run because I was depressed, and I couldn't stand to watch all my friends run the race I wanted to run...and I knew I was not going to run El Scorcho. I was wallowing in my pity.
Then, after some time passed, I entered the acceptance phase. I finally realized my goals were cancelled for some time, and the only thing that was going to help me was time off. So, I started working on a recovery and rehab program, and I pulled out my schedule book.
I designed a workout program
I started swimming at the McMurry pool every day, and I was feeling much better about myself. Eventually, I began to workout on the Elliptical trainer. It was a great workout that simulated running without putting pressure on my knee. And strength training was available, so I began to lift weights every other day, and before I knew it, 6 weeks had gone by, and I was desperate to try the knee out. I knew that I would not be able to return to all out running, so it was almost like starting all over again. I began walking and then walk/running, and before I knew it, I was back into running two and three miles.
Saturday, I went out to Steamboat Mountain with friends, and was able to run the half marathon course out there. So, I'm back, now, and I even think the rest and break from running was a good thing. In fact, next summer, instead of running so many miles, I am planning to cut back, run shorter races, and conserve my strength for the next big push.
I think I learned the hard way about injuries, but it was a long hard pull to get back to full strength. I am running the Crossroads Half Marathon in October, and I can't wait.
I trained harder for El Scorcho 50k summer ultra run, than I did for the 50 miler at Sunmart, and was determined to run well in the heat. I had undergone extensive heat acclimation workouts, took long runs in the country, performed core training, mountain training, running at altitude, and a strength and weight training program, as well as two-a-day workouts,and was looking forward to the race with gusto!
Then, it happened...the knee injury. It happened on the very first day of my two-a-day workouts. I had run an easy 4 miler in the morning, and in the afternoon, I did a long tempo speed workout, and it felt great. Later, while walking through the grocery store, my knee froze up and I thought I was going to faint dead away. I struggled through a few more workouts before realizing it was not going to go away. All I could think about was not being able to run the Summer Solstice run at Redbud...and in my own perverted thinking, I figured I would be fine for El Scorcho, but it was not to be.
Finally, after I realized things were not going to heal in a few days, I started going through the five stages of grief: Denial was first, as I kept trying to work out on it...icing it down every two hours, massaging it, wearing protective braces, etc...but finally, I began to: Be angry! I was really mad that I was missing my races, and then, to make matters worse, I started feeling alienated, as I couldn't workout on Saturday mornings with my friends. Then along came Bargaining...making deals with God, promising to be a better person if only he would heal my injury, but...it kept hurting.
Then depression set in...I refused to show up at the Summer solstice run because I was depressed, and I couldn't stand to watch all my friends run the race I wanted to run...and I knew I was not going to run El Scorcho. I was wallowing in my pity.
Then, after some time passed, I entered the acceptance phase. I finally realized my goals were cancelled for some time, and the only thing that was going to help me was time off. So, I started working on a recovery and rehab program, and I pulled out my schedule book.
I designed a workout program
I started swimming at the McMurry pool every day, and I was feeling much better about myself. Eventually, I began to workout on the Elliptical trainer. It was a great workout that simulated running without putting pressure on my knee. And strength training was available, so I began to lift weights every other day, and before I knew it, 6 weeks had gone by, and I was desperate to try the knee out. I knew that I would not be able to return to all out running, so it was almost like starting all over again. I began walking and then walk/running, and before I knew it, I was back into running two and three miles.
Saturday, I went out to Steamboat Mountain with friends, and was able to run the half marathon course out there. So, I'm back, now, and I even think the rest and break from running was a good thing. In fact, next summer, instead of running so many miles, I am planning to cut back, run shorter races, and conserve my strength for the next big push.
I think I learned the hard way about injuries, but it was a long hard pull to get back to full strength. I am running the Crossroads Half Marathon in October, and I can't wait.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Bar-H Boondoggle 6-Hour Trail Race
This is a really laid back race, and one that reminds me of what the people say trail running "used" to be like. One aid station was stuck right in the middle of a figure eight loop, and you had to run by the campfire every time you finished one section of the figure 8 to check your name off. No chips, no spotters, and no fuss. It was a 6.4 mile complete loop.
The first half of the loop ran uphill for quite a ways to start off, and then the hills started! They were steep and technical, and the downhills were rocky and treacherous. The trails were single track almost the entire distance. The second half of the figure eight was flatter, and the trail at the beginning was hard to find, as grass was high along the rather narrow single track trail, but soon, the trail appeared to be no more than a ridge cut out of the sandy bottom grasslands we were running through. There was mud, mixed in with a lot of cow dung that you had to watch out for, but soon, we entered the wooded section of that loop, and it was the most gorgeous area to run through that I have seen in a while. It almost reminded me of portions of the Sunmart course at that point. Of course, the roots were prevalent there, and some of the downhills were difficult. Not as much climbing on this side, but soon, it was time to hit the next section, which was pretty much all hills.
It started getting dark in the middle of the hill section on my third loop, so I used my new PrinceTec headlamp, and it worked ok, but I never figured out how to make it tilt the right way to make use of the light on the trail, so I found myself running with my head down. The downhills in the dark were scary, and one slip could have been disastrous, so I slowed down at this point, and right as I was finishing up the hilly section, the Whipporwhils began calling in the distance. I don't think I have ever heard one, but they sound awesome, if not a little lonesome, and on that part of the trail, I was all alone, and the sounds of those birds was incredible.
I checked in at the aid station, took some salt tablets, a little gatorade, and when the lady at the desk told me I had slowed down quite a bit, I just smiled and said, "I know." The dark definitely changes how you run on trails that technical. One bad step and it would be all over. They might not find your body for awhile. Even if they did find you, I'm not sure how they would get you out of that countryside without a helicopter.
The back side of the trail, which had been markedly easier than the front side, became even more difficult after dark. It was hard to follow the narrow trails, and in places, the trail seemed to disappear. If not for the flour they poured along the way on parts of the trail, I might have gotten really lost...it's amazing how flourescent just ordinary flour can be. It helped me stay on track. All along the back side of the loop, I could hear Coyotes in the distance, howling and barking. I could smell random campfires of people camping all along the countryside, but for the most part, it was just me and the trail, all alone with my little headlamp. It was a little spooky at times to say the least, but good experience for running trails at night. At one point, I shined my headlight into the woods, and I saw eyeballs reflecting my light. Not sure what it was, and I really didn't want to know. It did make the hair stand up on the back of my neck. some of the people I met at the race, said that someone had stopped them on the trail and told them there was a mountain lion running around in the hilly section of the loop. That was never confirmed, but it put a chill down our spines.
I learned a lot on this trail, and I actually think I can now call myself a trail runner. I finally feel like I really learned how to run trails on this course.
When I got to the aid station after completing three complete loops, (approximately 19.4 miles, according to the official race documentation), I was prepared to tackle the front side of the figure eight one last time, and then I had planned to quit after that, which would have given me around 22 or 23 miles, I think, but when I got to the Aid station, my two friends were there, and they were ready to go home, and it didn't take much for me to agree with them. I packed it in, and felt good about what I had done.
All in all, it was a great run, and a great experience. I highly recommend this trail to anyone who really wants to learn to run technical trails. It was a fabulous place to get some good training in. For me, I was only trying to get a good workout in, and I did that.....!
The first half of the loop ran uphill for quite a ways to start off, and then the hills started! They were steep and technical, and the downhills were rocky and treacherous. The trails were single track almost the entire distance. The second half of the figure eight was flatter, and the trail at the beginning was hard to find, as grass was high along the rather narrow single track trail, but soon, the trail appeared to be no more than a ridge cut out of the sandy bottom grasslands we were running through. There was mud, mixed in with a lot of cow dung that you had to watch out for, but soon, we entered the wooded section of that loop, and it was the most gorgeous area to run through that I have seen in a while. It almost reminded me of portions of the Sunmart course at that point. Of course, the roots were prevalent there, and some of the downhills were difficult. Not as much climbing on this side, but soon, it was time to hit the next section, which was pretty much all hills.
It started getting dark in the middle of the hill section on my third loop, so I used my new PrinceTec headlamp, and it worked ok, but I never figured out how to make it tilt the right way to make use of the light on the trail, so I found myself running with my head down. The downhills in the dark were scary, and one slip could have been disastrous, so I slowed down at this point, and right as I was finishing up the hilly section, the Whipporwhils began calling in the distance. I don't think I have ever heard one, but they sound awesome, if not a little lonesome, and on that part of the trail, I was all alone, and the sounds of those birds was incredible.
I checked in at the aid station, took some salt tablets, a little gatorade, and when the lady at the desk told me I had slowed down quite a bit, I just smiled and said, "I know." The dark definitely changes how you run on trails that technical. One bad step and it would be all over. They might not find your body for awhile. Even if they did find you, I'm not sure how they would get you out of that countryside without a helicopter.
The back side of the trail, which had been markedly easier than the front side, became even more difficult after dark. It was hard to follow the narrow trails, and in places, the trail seemed to disappear. If not for the flour they poured along the way on parts of the trail, I might have gotten really lost...it's amazing how flourescent just ordinary flour can be. It helped me stay on track. All along the back side of the loop, I could hear Coyotes in the distance, howling and barking. I could smell random campfires of people camping all along the countryside, but for the most part, it was just me and the trail, all alone with my little headlamp. It was a little spooky at times to say the least, but good experience for running trails at night. At one point, I shined my headlight into the woods, and I saw eyeballs reflecting my light. Not sure what it was, and I really didn't want to know. It did make the hair stand up on the back of my neck. some of the people I met at the race, said that someone had stopped them on the trail and told them there was a mountain lion running around in the hilly section of the loop. That was never confirmed, but it put a chill down our spines.
I learned a lot on this trail, and I actually think I can now call myself a trail runner. I finally feel like I really learned how to run trails on this course.
When I got to the aid station after completing three complete loops, (approximately 19.4 miles, according to the official race documentation), I was prepared to tackle the front side of the figure eight one last time, and then I had planned to quit after that, which would have given me around 22 or 23 miles, I think, but when I got to the Aid station, my two friends were there, and they were ready to go home, and it didn't take much for me to agree with them. I packed it in, and felt good about what I had done.
All in all, it was a great run, and a great experience. I highly recommend this trail to anyone who really wants to learn to run technical trails. It was a fabulous place to get some good training in. For me, I was only trying to get a good workout in, and I did that.....!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Prickly Pear 50k Race report
I was very excited to run this race, as I had wanted to run it for awhile. The trail conditions there were dry, as there had been no rain in the area in some time. In fact, the weather was approaching the mid-eighties as race day approached, so I knew my time was going to be a little slower.
I had met a friend of mine from Idaho, and my wife and I had dinner at Olive Garden the night before with Jenny and one of her friends. It was a great dinner, with good conversation and good pasta. I was so ready to run...my excitement was building. I could barely sleep that night as I thought about the race.
The next morning, Jenny, her friend, and I, all loaded up and headed for McCallister Park. It is an interesting place, as you don't expect to see such a large acreage of trails, trees, cliffs, and wild country sitting in the middle of San Antonio, Texas. We received our race briefing, along with the discussion about leaving the Rattlesnakes alone if we saw any...which I had planned on anyway....common sense, right? As they said, "go," we all took off and entered the first part of the trail, which was a single track through low hanging tree branches and a dried, hard-packed ground. The 50k was held in conjunction with a 10 mile event, which they would run one time, but we would run 3 10.3 mile loops.
as we proceeded to the top of a dam, the wind hit me full in the face...it was so strong, I thought it was going to blow my bib right off my shirt. We headed into this 40 mph wind for about a mile before the trail went downhill into a nice Live Oak forest, where the wind was negligible. Soon after that, we found the hardest part of the trail...a cliff you could barely walk down..it was very steep and was better "climbed" than ran. The rest of the trail consisted of single track trails through Live Oaks, and then meandered behind some houses, out past some soccer fields, and then back into the woods for the final three or four miles. The hills were manageable, but I walked a few of them nonetheless.
I ran the first loop in a little over 2 hours, and was doing fine. I came around for the second loop a little slower, but at the 22 mile mark, I started getting cramps in my left hamstring. It tightened up on me, forcing me to slow down and walk more than I would have liked that last 10 mile loop. The heat was unbearable in some spots, but there was a nice cloud cover that kept it from getting out of hand.
I finished in 7 hours, and was a little disappointed in my time, as I wanted to break 6 hours, but the temperatures ensured a PR was not going to happen. All in all, it was a great trail run. I struggled the last 8 miles, but it made the run all the more memorable. Great race, good friends, and I celebrated with a Sam Adams beer and a nice t-bone steak!
I had met a friend of mine from Idaho, and my wife and I had dinner at Olive Garden the night before with Jenny and one of her friends. It was a great dinner, with good conversation and good pasta. I was so ready to run...my excitement was building. I could barely sleep that night as I thought about the race.
The next morning, Jenny, her friend, and I, all loaded up and headed for McCallister Park. It is an interesting place, as you don't expect to see such a large acreage of trails, trees, cliffs, and wild country sitting in the middle of San Antonio, Texas. We received our race briefing, along with the discussion about leaving the Rattlesnakes alone if we saw any...which I had planned on anyway....common sense, right? As they said, "go," we all took off and entered the first part of the trail, which was a single track through low hanging tree branches and a dried, hard-packed ground. The 50k was held in conjunction with a 10 mile event, which they would run one time, but we would run 3 10.3 mile loops.
as we proceeded to the top of a dam, the wind hit me full in the face...it was so strong, I thought it was going to blow my bib right off my shirt. We headed into this 40 mph wind for about a mile before the trail went downhill into a nice Live Oak forest, where the wind was negligible. Soon after that, we found the hardest part of the trail...a cliff you could barely walk down..it was very steep and was better "climbed" than ran. The rest of the trail consisted of single track trails through Live Oaks, and then meandered behind some houses, out past some soccer fields, and then back into the woods for the final three or four miles. The hills were manageable, but I walked a few of them nonetheless.
I ran the first loop in a little over 2 hours, and was doing fine. I came around for the second loop a little slower, but at the 22 mile mark, I started getting cramps in my left hamstring. It tightened up on me, forcing me to slow down and walk more than I would have liked that last 10 mile loop. The heat was unbearable in some spots, but there was a nice cloud cover that kept it from getting out of hand.
I finished in 7 hours, and was a little disappointed in my time, as I wanted to break 6 hours, but the temperatures ensured a PR was not going to happen. All in all, it was a great trail run. I struggled the last 8 miles, but it made the run all the more memorable. Great race, good friends, and I celebrated with a Sam Adams beer and a nice t-bone steak!
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