As I launched off the porch for today’s 12-miler, the tulips were bathed in snow.
As was the Grape Hyacinth.
It’s been snowing for a couple of days non-stop, but it’s just a cold spring rain.
I thought about last weekend’s 50K as I ran. I hardly worked out at all this week…I had a dermatologist visit, a colonoscopy…I had a busy week and I didn’t run much. My legs felt so awesome, so fresh, I wished I’d worn a watch. I felt fast and strong today.
I’ll get in some good miles this weekend and next week, and then the following weekend, before I taper for the Colorado Marathon. I wish I could run it as fast as the last time in 2017. I’m confident with distance but I’m not running very fast right now. Not sure if I ever will again. Hope I do though.
Speaking of fast, Eric took third overall at the Royal Gorge 30K in Canyon City this morning. That’s him holding 2.5 year old Margo Fay. My next go at it will be the Colorado Marathon on Cinco de Mayo.
I discovered at the end of my twelve miles that Karen had tipped the snow off the flowers. They have a chance of surviving. God, do I ever know the feeling.
As the sun rose over the dry Colorado Desert, Brit and her lifelong friend Megan, from schools Burlington and Sunset, prepared to run 31 miles together. A 50K trail ultra. I’m not sure if this photo below is from the start or the end of the race, because they looked fresh during the entire saga.
Thelma and Louise were in rhythm over the hardscrabble slick rock on the south side of I-70. They say the north side is less rocky and more flowy. They talk like that in Fruita, a mountain biking Mecca with more brewpubs than churches. I’d consider giving up the views of the Colorado River and Monument at Pizza Overlook for some soft running dirt considering I rarely took my eyes off my footfalls.
With Megan leading the way, the girls ran close to the edge of the canyon.
Megan’s daughter Luna helped Coco babysit Brit’s little Margot Fay back at the AirBnB while the mothers enjoyed their quiet time Colorado style – running for eight hours through massively technical single track.
Seriously, this is how Colorado mothers relax.
I know because I was there. The leaner, twenty pounds lighter me after Karen tracked me on a diet since February.
I started out with the girls in the corral. In that first mile, before queuing up on the single track, I ran behind the girls. Once I felt warmed up, I told them that my legs had muscle memory and they remembered running fast. That was the last I saw of them.
And then, there was only me. For the next seven hours.
I was able to toss my alpaca wool jersey to my crew, Eric after circling around the Rustler’s Loop trail and put on a fresh tank to run the remaining twenty miles. Perfect timing for a blazing cold desert sun. The photo above would have been about three hours into my seven and a half hour ultra. The mountain air didn’t rise over the mid 70°s, but the sun reached through the atmosphere to sear my skin like it only can on the Kokopelli Trail.
I have to say, I didn’t expect a desert trail to be so pretty. One never expects much of the desert. Some places you have to visit. But OMG, it was like running with scissors. I hadn’t been on a technical trail since my little tumble on the Wild Turkey Loop last November. This trail was orders of magnitude more rocky, more uneven, more deadly. On my first steep rocky downhill, I felt as if I’d been kicked out of the nest. And I was still stuck in that starting line mass where I had to walk when they walked and run when they ran. I trusted the process and got through it. The crowd didn’t open up with some running room until just short of three miles into it. Ten percent of the total distance.
I got to the end though. I learned tons to prep for my 100K ultra in Bandera next January. I learned how to treat muscle cramps with salt chews. I learned the value of training my stomach for food. I learned I could handle double the hydration that I normally consume, if I stay focused on it.
The photo above captures what my weekend was like with friends and family. Everyone was cheering for each other and making each other happy.
My high school friend and epic hiking buddy, Rob was there navigating the trails as I’ve seen him do for nearly fifty years now. I honestly don’t know how I could know so many old runners, but at least a dozen other friends were there with me whom I’ve known for decades. Friends who taught me this weekend that whatever Lola wants, Lola gets. Even if that means I have to rub her ears like only I can.
When I was younger and an athlete, I learned to will myself to the starting line. It wasn’t easy because my body knew exactly what was in store for it. My stomach would revolt and threaten to vomit at the starting line. Nerves have a sixth sense, or some kind of knowledge gleaned through the accumulation of DNA over a million generations. My body knew the hell that I was about to sacrifice it to and it wanted no part of it. My bowels were dead set to vacate themselves. Fortunately, my DNA didn’t understand timing and starting guns, and I was usually off and racing before my body could erupt itself in protest. Which is why core strength is paramount for racing.
I finished up the work week in good shape. I couldn’t finish everything but work is never done, that’s why they call it work. I’ll keep a stub of things yet to be figured out in my head for the run. Lots of thoughts will traverse my mind over the six hours it will take me to run the Desert Rats 50K in Fruita this Saturday. Or seven hours. Or eight hours. I really hope it’s six hours.
I can’t recall the last time I was nervous at the starting line. After a couple of decades off from racing, I got back into it in my fifties. I always felt so happy at the start to the marathons and trail runs and various events I signed up for over the last decade. Now I’m in my sixties and I’ve had some lapses in my conditioning. After a broken shoulder, Covid, and well, a real cold, I’m set to run 31 miles this Saturday. I haven’t put in the miles for this and my body knows it.
But my wife nursed me through a diet to do what she could to get my weight down, and honestly, my weight alone gives me tremendous confidence. I can run anything at 175 pounds. I can run all day long. It would help me to run faster had I put in the miles, but who needs to run fast at 61 years of age? No one will even ask me what my time was. They’ll be happy to see me finish. I can finish by walking in the final 15 miles if I need to.
So I won’t be nervous, despite my dearth of conditioning. And I won’t be able to help myself from being happy standing at that starting line on the Kokopelli Trail in the high desert of Colorado. My daughter will be standing there with me. We’ll learn something of one another after 31 miles. Assuming I can hang with her youth. I know how special it is to be able to run an ultra with my daughter. I’ll be happy standing at that starting line.
Like the pied piper, Kokopelli’s flute playing shooes away the winter and lures in spring. I feel as if I’m being drawn by something to the high desert of the Colorado Plateau. It’s something bigger than me. It’s my body’s carnal response to previous disappointment, off eight weeks with my arm in a sling and the crashing end to my delusions of running the Bandera 100K. Running to me has always been sensual.
It’s been a while since I’ve gone on a destination run with friends and family. I was too fat for these excursions but now my shoulder works, I’ve been running a bit, and my weight is back down to where it was in 2017 when I ran the Colorado Marathon in 3:47. I feel good running at this weight. I expect a pace next weekend at the Desert Rat’s 50K to be around 11 minutes per mile. In that range. I’d be happy to finish under 6 hours.
I intend to start off running with Brit and Megan. Brit said the two of them expect to run a 13 minute pace. I know how my legs run. They might start out the first mile in a 10 minute pace, certainly 11. Precious nervous energy will be surrendered to the gala at the start, but I expect to average an 11 minute pace up the first 3 miles and down the second 3 miles of the first segment, from the Hawkeye TH to the first pass by the More Fun aid station. Almost 6 miles or a 10K makes for an excellent distance and I plan to fully stop to drink some electrolytes. Only for a moment though. Then I’ll hustle the girls off with me again.
I know the girls’ plan is to run in the 12 to 13 minute range, but I think they’ll run closer to my pace for the first half of this ultra. I expect to speed up my pace to 10 minute miles for the 4 mile loop back to the More Fun aid station. I’ll fully stop again to drink something and maybe eat. Always just for a moment. I don’t expect to ever sit down. I’ll continue this much-too-fast 10 minute pace over another 4 mile segment to the Pizza Overlook aid station. I might rest a few seconds longer because my focus will shift toward survival mode around this point.
And I think this point is a tad over 14 miles. I don’t know, has anyone been keeping count?
A short 3.5 miles will take me to the Crossroads aid station and I expect to have slowed down to an 11 minute pace. I’ll slow down further to a 12 minute pace for the 6.5 miles up to the Troybuilt aid station. Not a bad pace really. It might include some walking. My rests at aid stations will increase to 30 or 60 seconds. Always prepping for the next section.
The next section from Troybuiilt is the nearly 7 miles back to the Hawkeye TH. I hope to still be running a 12 minute pace here, but it’s hard to say. My longest run this year was 17 miles. I hope to finish side-by-side with Brit and Megan. I bet we’re close to 6 hours. We will see what next weekend brings.
There’s still a bit of snow outside if you look for it. I found this about 7 miles into a 15 miler. The weather was so perfect for a trail run today that I don’t have the words. I didn’t wear a watch but my rough math had me running a 12 minute per mile pace. That’ll do for my 50K ultra I have in April. I’m feeling good about things.
I ran the Niwot Loop today, which is a 12 mile loop for me generally, but I added another 3 mile loop on top to make it the Niwot Loop plus 3 route. There’s construction in Niwot, along a creek. Take the detour which is up the street to the stop sign and turn right. Rejoin the trail about 200 meters down the road.
After Covid and long Covid and an actual cold, I was able to breathe today on the East Boulder Trail. I would describe what that’s been like, but I don’t wish for you to live through my winter of discontent.
The deep breathing of a distance run filled my ears with a contented sound that filled my soul.
It helped to be surrounded by views of trees and lakes and the Indian Peaks.
I thought about my family chat with Ellie and some others that began last night and continued into the morning.
She’d just heard that Talabama criminalized in vitro fertilization. She was upset and in combat mode.
Combat-mode is what I call her when she chats like a sailor. I guess that makes it a euphemism.
I told her I didn’t like it and relentlessly tapped out words like eloquence until the fierce warrior yielded to her father and began to chat how he wanted to chat.
She made good points from there and last night’s epic IVF family chat bled into the morning.
More good points were made by others in the chat. Seems like there’s a whole lot of good reasons to support IVF and help Alabama find a new religion while we’re at it.
The snow was wet as rain today, but lovely white and cozy as I ran on the LoBo Trail. The Inov8 rain jacket Karen gifted me at Christmas to run the Bandera 100K protected me well. It was good to test it in the elements.
I’m training now for the Desert Rats 50K in April. Post broken collar bone, I’m starting out from scratch, slow and heavy. Slow’s not a problem for an ultra, but the weight needs to improve. I can’t afford to miss out on long weekend runs because of a little weather. And today was actually quite enjoyable, with little wind and 32°. This rain jacket’s a keeper.
We started out Margot Fay’s first sleep-over at the WOW! Museum in Lafayette. It’s a very eclectic place for toddlers to romp around. Then we went home for more fun and dinner at our house.
We strolled around the block as we walked the dogs. We played the piano. We ran up and down two flights of stairs until I nearly collapsed. And we watched Frozen 2. Bed time was at 8pm and she is still sleeping now at 7:30am. Next weekend will be a two-nighter so Brit and Eric can celebrate Eric’s birthday out-of-town.
I had my first run of the new year today. First run in ten weeks. I planned on taking it easy and only going for three miles, but it felt so good that I ran five miles. The weather was perfect for running, 27° and zero wind. I’m sore now, but happy.
I began strength training after the holidays but I’ve still gained fifteen pounds. Prepping for that ultra in April will take some focus. I want to be able to run with my daughter and I won’t be able to do that unless I get back to where I was before breaking my collarbone. Thinking I can hang with a girl half my age might be delusional, but it’ll be fun if I can run with her for even a little ways.
The Yeti water bottle in the photo will be Karen’s gift for crewing the ultra. I expect her contribution will be babysitting Margot while Brit and I run and Eric crews us. That counts though. It takes a team to crew.
I would have ran my first 100K this weekend, if not for breaking my collarbone. The first person to finish in my age group was 63 year old Stephanie Pearce from Austin, which also won her the Masters division for women which includes 50 year olds, in 15 hours. The first man in my age group was 60 year old Stephen Scobie in 15.5 hours. I was estimating I could finish in 14 hours, so I might have been competitive assuming I finished.
My doctor told me last Monday that I’m healing ahead of schedule for my age and that I can start running again. I kept to the elliptical this weekend though because the temperature has yet to rise above 0°. I’m a gentleman runner.
I still can’t perform any activity, like changing a light bulb, that requires me to raise my arm over my head, but I’m on the mend. Pull-ups are out but I can’t do pull-ups normally, so I’m not missing out on anything. Most of my strength training has always been focused on my legs and core and I’ve been working on that for the last couple of weeks.
Still planning on a 50K ultra in April, and the Colorado Marathon in May. My first attempt at the 100K distance will have to wait until January 2025.
It’s time to be introspective. To consider the year just ended and the year ahead. I’m not introspective enough but am when I write which is one of the reasons I enjoy writing. The photo is from my family’s annual Tex-Mex outing over the holidays.
I worked at a new company in 2023, I started on Halloween 2022. TierPoint is my 3rd or 4th employer since I entered the tech field in 1990. I say 3 or 4 because my last employer was actually my second in terms of acquisitions. I went from an internship with IBM to being a data network design engineer at US West, to working 23 years at IBM, then back to US West, but they were now called CenturyLink and changed their name to Lumen while I was there, to now TierPoint – a cloud/hosting company that owns about 40 data centers in the US. Essentially: IBM – Telco – IBM – Telco – Cloud. I can see myself working another seven years or so. I’d like to work at a small startup before I retire.
I accomplished 3 things in 2023 that stand out to me. I learned my new job. I drafted about 25,000 words in a new novel. And I finally got back in shape, taking 2nd place for my age in the Boulder Marathon in October.
I did some other things. Not sure they are important but I want to capture them. I’ve been retreating from social media. I can’t really explain why, I sense it’s more emotional than rational. I killed my Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram accounts. I paused and have now deleted my Facebook account. And I’m blogging less. I even experimented with taking this blog private for a day but determined it would be too onerous to admin private accounts for my followers.
The novelty of social media has worn off and for whatever reason, and despite always being very comfortable with my online presence, I’m feeling over-exposed. I need to accept it if I want to market my novels but I’ll worry about that the next time I publish one. I’ll keep my LinkedIn active for as long as I’m working, but otherwise, I’m trending towards exclusivity. You’re gonna have to know me to be my friend.
My focus in 2024 will build on my 2023 accomplishments. My job requires intensive knowledge-building. I can’t tell you how many generative AI books I’ve read this year. Well actually, I probably can. That reminds me, I need to consider killing my GoodReads account. I’ll probably keep it though since it’s aligned with being an author.
I haven’t given up my plans to run a 100K ultra. This broken collarbone is a real hurdle but it gives me focus. I signed up for a 50K ultra in April as a goal. That’s a bit of a stretch as it appears I won’t be running again for another month, but the important thing is I have a race on my calendar. I deferred my Bandera 100K out to January 2025.
And then, there’s my novel. With focus, I’ll complete that this year. It’s been a lot of fun researching the Texas Hill Country which is the setting for the story. The research never ends when you’re writing but I do feel that I’m past most of that phase now. Time to focus on character building and the story line.
Lastly, I’m ending this year with Covid. That feels like an accomplishment because it’s my first time. Both the broken bone and Covid are firsts for me, so definitely accomplishments. I’m miserable though. Nothing worse than a man with a bad cold plus a broken bone. It’ll make starting 2024 out healthy feel like that much more of a fresh start though. Can’t wait.
We’ve been returning to Austin for Christmas for the last 34 years. The only exception was in 1991 when Britty-Boo was born seven weeks early and had to spend Christmas in the hospital with all the other little preemies in their incubators. Now Brit has a baby of her own.
After five and a half weeks, I got to take my sling off today. It wasn’t easy last weekend following Margot around at the butterfly pavilion. I have to say, my daily tasks weren’t as easy as I’d expected with the sling off.
Getting dressed was better. Typing at the keyboard wasn’t. It hurt to stretch my arm out to the keyboard and my hand shook so much that it was like taking a step back. I found myself typing one-handed again when I needed to go fast. I expect that to get better in another day or two. My arm has atrophied and needs to loosen up.
I’m not out of the woods just yet. I still have to wear the sling to sleep. And I can’t do arm exercises until Dec 30th. But I registered to run the Desert Rats 50K in April with my running buddies. That might be a stretch to train for but I can switch to a half marathon if I’m not ready. There is also a 100K I could switch into. A boy can dream.
Through the summer and fall of 2023, I was the running Ed. With this post, I am making it known that I am now the intellectual Ed. I have given up my running pursuits and will finish out the year reading and writing. Not that I have a choice in the matter.
I edited this photo to crop out the sling cradling my arm at this weekend’s neighborhood Christmas party. I’m not happy being hog-tied. For the most part, I’m not a very proud person, but I don’t like to appear physically weak. We all have our issues.
I’ll admit to being mildly depressed the first couple of weeks with this injury. I’m not proud of that either. I can be quick to feel sorry for myself, but I believe I have moved on. I’ve significantly increased my rate of reading, and am putting more cycles into writing my novel.
Many of my friends and neighbors are quite athletic; some are mountain bikers, most are runners. There was much talk about upcoming trail races and it was painful to know I couldn’t register to run any of them. I might go along though to crew them. I enjoy that.
Mending physically will take time and I am not a particularly patient person. As long as I am advancing in one of my interest areas though, I’ll be fine.
When people see me with the sling on my arm, they invariably ask if I fell off my bike. I tell them no, I fell off my feet. This x-ray shows my left clavicle, broken in five places, but perfectly aligned so it didn’t have to be reset. My orthopedist gave me good news after reviewing the x-ray, stating that surgery will be unlikely.
Most of the pain abated after a week. And I was mildly depressed for two weeks, knowing that all of my physical conditioning will be gone by the time this heals. But I’m starting to move on. I’m reading and writing more. And I have discovered that I can do squats, so that’s something.
I’m drinking bone broth to rebuild collagen. And I’m watching my diet. I decided against planning for another ultra because it just makes me depressed. Next year, when I’m healed, I’ll think about running again.
I read this op-ed in this week’s digital edition of the Fredericksburg Standard. The irony for me is that I believe the editor is a GenXer while I’m a boomer, but this movement to dumb phones is being driven by Gen Z. I’ve yet to make such an extreme downgrade, but I have been disabling my social media accounts this year.
I first canceled my Twitter account because I’ve become so disgusted with Elon Musk. More recently, I have paused my Facebook account – and I really like Facebook. I find it so convenient to stay in touch with close friends and family. But I am becoming uncomfortable with Big Tech’s competence around content moderation, especially with the advent of generative AI. I feel it’s best to simply unplug. And I’m saying this as a technophile.
I took a tumble on the Wild Turkey Trail Saturday and broke my clavicle. It might be the first time I’ve ever broken a bone. There are times I should have broken many bones. I was tossed out of the bed of a pickup truck at 55 miles per hour. I was swept over a waterfall on the Pedernales onto the rocks below. No broken bones. But yesterday, I tried to turn my fall into a roll and didn’t quite have the angle to pull off that maneuver. My shoulder slammed hard into a rock. The kind of hard where I knew immediately that I wasn’t going to be okay.
I was an hour into my run and it took two hours to walk back to the trail head. I drove home before going to the ER to look at it. My left shoulder looked dislocated, which it was after falling off a bike in fourth grade. So, I have experience with dislocated shoulders. This is worse. It will take six to eight weeks to heal. The Bandera 100K is in eight weeks. Bandera is out.
So I’m pretty bummed out right now. I was scared of running Bandera, but also so excited. It was consuming all my free thoughts, which is why I like projects like that. But now, Bandera is a broken dream. I’m broken. The whole world is broken.
I’m going to try to stay positive and redirect my energies into writing my novel, but I think I like running more than writing. I like both hobbies, but I need physical activity. There was a time after college that I thought I would become a professional house painter. I like physical work. I think I’d have been happy with that career. I might be able to workout on the elliptical with this, after the pain subsides. We’ll see.
Not a bad view on today’s run. It’s from the junction of Ponderosa Loop and Wild Turkey Trail. I ran my furthest run yet on top of Wapiti Trail. I ran 2 hours and 41 minutes at a 13:42 pace. Recording that here more for me than you, to look back on when I’m considering if I trained hard enough for a Hill Country trail run in January.
I ran in my new Tecton X 2s, as I have for the last three days. They felt great. I could feel the ground and yet the rock plate protected me from over-feeling the ground. My legs were heavy today and I stumbled, tripping over rocks, uncharacteristically often. Good test for my new shoes though. My feet felt great while I was running, but one of my toes feels bruised now from that bruising earlier. That’s fine though. My toes need to toughen up.
I’m guessing this trail looks a lot like most of Bandera. Its hills are different, Heil Valley has graceful hills but at altitude; Bandera is 4000 feet lower but with short, steep hills. But many of the Heil Valley rocks are good Bandera replicas.
I’m not confident yet that I’ll be able to finish or feel good running those 62 miles of trail in the Hill Country State Natural Area. But I’m enjoying training for it. I’m getting in hours on a replica trail. I’m testing new shoes, new gels, new electrolyte drinks. My son-in-law is coaching me, giving me tips.
Flagship Tracksmith store on Newberry Street in Boston
I want to be clear that I don’t shave my body hair. I have it waxed. I’ve taken to waxing off my chest hair because I now need to have a heart monitor patched to my left breast a couple of times a year to check for atrial fibrillation. And health clinics are not spas. If they do shave a patch of hair off first, which they haven’t the last few visits – ouch – it’s only a patch and nothing more. I initially waxed off my entire front side but Karen felt like I’d surrendered my man card, so I’m allowing the belly hair to grow back. Chest only going forward.
Commonwealth Avenue where I ran a loop around the Back Bay in Boston
I just received the results of my recent heart patch and it recorded zero A-Fib over a week’s time. Even better, my doctor said he was okay with me running the Bandera Ultra in January. I should be happy with that. I don’t like that I’m at that age where I need to check with my doctor before I do fun stuff, but I am at that age, so there you go. I can check off the A-Fib box, clearing me to run Bandera. But if I’m honest, there was maybe a part of me looking for an excuse to not have to run it. I’ve set myself up for something that I’m just a little bit scared of. A 62 mile run through the Texas Hill Country.
The colors in Maine
Except for a couple of short runs around Boston this past week, I’ve hardly run since the Boulder Marathon. I have two months to try to lose another ten pounds and prepare for this ultra in January. I don’t mind setting myself up for failure. I’m actually quite comfortable with it. I think it’s the pain I know I’ll endure that has me scared. I don’t like admitting I’m scared, but I am.
Dropped off a copy of my second novel at the Ogunquit Library in Maine
I don’t know why people run ultras. I don’t know why I want to run one. I suppose because I don’t know if I can do it, but I can’t explain why that appeals to me. It just does.
Processed work email at the Boston Public Library one morning during vacation
While in Boston earlier this week, I stayed at the Lenox Hotel and my room looked out at the Boston Marathon finish line on Boylston in front of the Boston Public Library. That photo is below. I found it inspirational. I’ve never run it. I came within 3 seconds of qualifying for it in the Boulder Marathon in 2015, six months after a prostatectomy. It’s on my list still. There’s a lot still on my list.
The thought occurred to me while running over the brutal cement in the final 10K of the Boulder Marathon that there was no way I could run the Bandera 100K ultra. This marathon was partly intended as a stepping stone to committing to that ultra. Distance running at that magnitude is a confidence game. But pain and doubt have a way of fading over time; in this case, a couple of days, and I’m already strategerizing on how I might complete a 62 mile run in the Texas Hill Country. I’m reviewing my lessons learned. My focus has shifted from the lows I felt on that concrete to how well I ran. This is a list of my green lights.
I ran about five minutes faster than I did two years earlier, on what I believe was a tougher course. I was also about five pounds lighter I think, 185 pounds vs 190. Weight is everything in distance running. I’d want to continue to lose weight. I’d be confident in January at 175 pounds. Historically, in my older years, I’m pretty competitive at that weight. At 165, which I was for a good three or so years in my fifties, I’m on the podium in everything from a 5K to an ultra. I don’t care to drop to 165 again though because it makes me look too much like a skinny runner.
And speed is the first thing I need to get over as I train for a 100K. I think I have. I’m really comfortable and happy with my slower pace. I need to run slower yet, I need to learn how to run a 15 minute mile pace. The trick is probably running whatever pace I’m comfortable at, say 11 minutes, and then add in some walking. My fitness instructor buddy Rob suggested that approach to me. I’ll figure that out this fall.
Next is gear. I could spend all my time thinking about the right gear. Gear is fun. Between my recent backpacking and this marathon, I have a number of lessons learned. I know the socks I’m going to wear. Alpaca wool. I backpacked five days nonstop in the same pair of socks and my feet stayed dry.
And I’ve discovered a gel I can stomach. Science in Sport – SIS. It has a good amount of liquid and is almost palatable. This came to me from my ultra running son-in-law. I’m not certain I’ve settled on an electrolyte drink, I used Maurten for this event and I’m not 100% on it. I’ll be good with the Scratch served at the aid stations, I have experience with that sports drink. I might use what I carried during the marathon. I did have some slight stomach pain and I wasn’t big on the flavor. I really like my Cure, it tastes so good but it doesn’t have enough calories or electrolytes for an ultra.
I bought some SaltStick FastChews (salt tablets) that I’ll begin to train with on long runs. It’s difficult to gauge how much you sweat in Colorado. We sweat in Colorado, but it’s a dry sweat. Ultra runners get pretty scientific about it. They want to know how much salt they sweat in addition to how much they sweat. I’ll try to figure out how much salt to consume based on what amount keeps me from cramping. My muscles did fine in the marathon so I did well on electrolytes. I credit the pickle juice.
I’ve gained a sense of my pace. To my surprise, I’m pretty comfortable running a 9 minute pace, but only for a half marathon. This marathon would have been easier had I maintained a flat 10 minute pace, which was my overall pace. I want to break 17 hours in Bandara and I can do that with a 16 minute pace – over hills and rocks and hours – but still, seems like it might be in my wheel house by walking enough, well before I even need to.
I believe I’ve found the running shorts that will work. They’re essentially short tights. A TrackSmith brand that didn’t even hint at chafing. I’ll need to buy a rain jacket. Sort of learned that backpacking. Interestingly, this was the very first time I wore my bib on my shorts. I studied photos of ultra runners and they all wear their bibs on their shorts. I suspect so that they can change their shirts. I’ll be sweating in Texas, even in January with that humidity, so changing shirts often is part of my plan. I changed out from a t-shirt to a tank top half way through this marathon and it made a big difference in my comfort.
I learned that I absolutely hate my hydration vest. Gels fell out. Not enough pockets or big enough pockets. These photos show how I twisted one of the shoulder straps without knowing it. Likely when I took it off to change shirts. So, this is not a green light, and if I’m honest, it contributed to me also failing at consuming enough gels. I’m tempted to not even wear a vest. Again, studying photos of the runners at Bandera, it appeared the elites didn’t wear vests. Many wore waist packs but the aid stations are so close that they’re optional. I figure I will wear one to store a rain jacket, if the weather suggests rain, and other emergency gear, but it’s something I’m still considering. Either way, I’m buying a new one. At races where aid stations are so plentiful, I suspect it still pays to carry gels with you in order to consume them at a slower pace.
The final topic area I needed to monitor was my atrial fibrillation. I think it kicked in twice. Without my heart monitor or Apple Watch, it’s hard to know but I found myself walking twice and unable to easily catch my breath. That’s a good indicator. I just had a heart monitor patched onto my chest yesterday that I’ll wear for two weeks. The results will be helpful and should lead to a dialog with my doctor. I’ll bring up the ultra and see what he says. I don’t expect it to be an issue but I don’t really know. Time will tell.
Before I could run this morning’s marathon, I had to attend Rachel and Aaron’s wedding in a Denver brewpub last night, replete with food truck. It was great. Rachel is Brit’s good friend that sings with her in GirlfriendCult. Margot enjoyed the wedding too. She got the flower headband from Rachel’s childhood friend Audrey who’s been helping out over in Ukraine – so you get the colors.
This year’s course was difficult. A lot of hills in Niwot and a good measure of concrete sidewalks on the return through Boulder. Concrete’s fine if you train on it. I tend to run trails. Karen wanted a photo of my shoes to thank Brit and Eric for gifting them to me a year ago. Those Hoka’s came in handy to cushion the cement.
The run felt much warmer than the 40s, 50s and 60s it was supposed to be. Perhaps the full sun and zero wind. Smartly, I carried a tank with me in my hydration pack and put it on a little over halfway. That might have saved me. I also did a good job hydrating, including 500ml of dill pickle juice. I shared some with another runner who was cramping. I felt comfortable most of the course, until the final 10K where the wheels typically start to fall off. Averaged a 10 minute mile pace though overall, good enough for a second place water bottle award for my age division. Today was tough enough that I’m rethinking that Bandera 100K in January, but still, it was a good run.
I have to add, I blogged last night that I expected to run a 4:30 to 4:45 total time. Without wearing a watch, I crossed the finish line in 4:30:59.
I was disappointed I couldn’t run last year’s Boulder Marathon. I thought I could do it and I wanted to start out my sixties by running a marathon. I ran two in my second decade of life, there’s a gap, then a dozen or so in my 40s and 50s. There’s a gap again. Shorter this time. And now. I’m confident enough to project a finish time between 4:30 and 4:45.
The important thing about that time range is its specificity. That’s how good I am at these projections. Anything outside that range should make for more interesting stories.
I’ve been told I go out too fast – an understatement for just how spectacularly bad a few of my marathons have gone – but most of them go okay. The people who say that haven’t seen all the good ones. I think I’ll run fine.
I need to do well because this is a warmup for a pending ultra. I’ll waterboard myself in hydration and electrolytes. I’ll wear a vest to prep even though I doubt I’ll need one, It has great aid stations. I’ll consume ungodly gels; not to get to the end of twenty-six miles, but to prep for what it’s like to eat that shit over sixty-two miles.
Like last month’s backpacking, this Sunday is all prep. My pace is noticeably slower than it was a few years ago, like in 2015, when I cranked out 8 minute miles for the full marathon on the Boulder Backroads. I like to predict my pace ahead of time and am usually spot on. I haven’t been wearing a watch much this year, but I’m getting a sense of my pace. This course reminds me of the Austin Marathon – there’s a hilly section around mile ten.
We were three men in our sixties. We were three men who hiked over Buckskin Pass to sleep under the view above of Snowmass Peak.
We woke up to a bit of snow at the Snowmass Lake Campground. Rob ported a flask of whiskey in his pack, so we found ourselves talking as we setup camp each night.
And you know me. I’m not a big talker. So, anything I share here probably came from either Rob or George talking.
We talked about our health. Because we’re men, our talk was graphic, and because it was graphic, it was funny.
We shared stories of our heroic wives for sending us out together into the remoteness of the Maroon Bells. They’re the best.
We told stories that only sixty-year old men could tell. Stories of what’s next.
I see my trail runs like a toddler turning two soon sees flowers. The trail is pretty. The Wapiti Trail is rocky too. Just like I imagine the Bandera 100K trails to be.
These photos are mostly a shoe-eye’s view of the Wapiti Trail to Ponderosa Loop clockwise and back.
If you have run the trails in the Hill Country State Natural Area, atop the Edwards Plateau, west of San Antonio, comment with photos you have of that course. I’m interested how well it compares to my weekend training course.
These rocks lead you back on the inner loops of Ponderosa and Wild Turkey. This is my second Saturday to run in Heil Valley Ranch. It’s my Saturday workout from now until the ultra. The plan is to groom my trail legs.
This intersection drops a path down to the Lyon’s trailhead or around the Wild Turkey Loop counterclockwise, but I steer right to return, first up and then back down the Wapiti Trail.
The trail up to Wapiti offers various textures. I call this texture – rocks.
Sometimes the trail gives back a little with a more pliable surface. This was nice.
But this section was mostly rocks.
And then, there it is, the trail down Wapiti. The heavy lifting is over. I tumbled down slowly and in control. Still finding my trail legs.
The path was rock after rock through the wildflowers.
Any wildfire trails out at Bandera?
Ending my run among the burnout was surreal.
I went dry in July with no drinking as part of my conditioning. I need to lose a few pounds and I need to be pulling all the old levers to see what helps. I no longer consider what works, just what helps. Still, I’m down 15 pounds so far for the year. It’s a slow pace, but I’ll get there. Besides, slow is the name of the game in ultras.
A Runner's Story 