Mary's Peak 50 Miler

Moving back to the Pacific Northwest has been a little bit of everything.  On one hand, it means being close to family and friends again, a new (and huge!) challenge with work and of course, the opportunity to spend hours upon hours in the mountains.  On the other hand, it also means that because of the challenging expectations with work, my racing will get put on the back burner until I can manage to get the hotel up and running.  Trying to find a race that would fit in with what little remaining time I had left proved to be challenging.  I foolishly assumed that the races in the PNW would be plentiful and easy to choose from.  However, while there are plenty of races, they sell out seemingly very quickly.  Fortunately, I found one last ultra to cram into the 'ol schedule before I turn all of my focus to the hotel for the year.

The Mary's Peak Trail Runs offer 3 different distances - 25k, 50k, and 50 mile.  I snagged a spot in the 50 miler and started some focused training.  The race is held west of Corvallis, only a 2.5 hour drive from the Portland/Vancouver area, so it's really hard to beat the convenience factor there.  Training overall went reasonably well.  I managed to get in some longer efforts than normal over consecutive weekends, and focused on getting some quality improvements on my uphill and downhill running.  A focus on fueling was also critical, as I seem to have been really hit or miss during recent races.  After finally burning through my stockpile of miscellaneous gels, I picked up a bunch of VFuel products (gels and drink mix) and hoped that maybe it would give me less stomach distress, and provide enough fuel to feel strong though an entire race.  In training, I had nothing but success with them, so I toed the line feeling confident that the success would continue into a race situation.  Just prior to starting, we got a bit of a briefing from the RD, and there seemed to be a common theme.  Don't get stupid and blow everything before the second half of the race.  Aside from that, the only thing I remember him saying was that there would be only one gate that you have to go around the entire day - at around mile 48 or so.  Liar.  More on that later.

I lined up at the front of the small group of folks who wanted to do a double summit today.  Off we go, and I started cruising, with only about 6 guys in front of me.  The first 7-ish miles of the race are a gradual climb and on fire roads.  Not knowing anyone, and generally not being social enough to strike up a conversation, I have a habit of eavesdropping on conversations.  I overheard a runner talking about running IMTUF this year and kind of just butted my way into the conversation, having an opinion on the race after running it last September.  This runner was Cary Stephens, someone that I would end up spending several hours with that day.  For the first few miles of the race, we shot the shit, and just cruised along talking about our running histories, plans for the year, jobs, etc.  Somewhere around mile 6 there was group of folks cheering us on, and I got separated from Cary as he peeled off for a short break.  Shortly thereafter, I pulled onto the trail section (finally!) in something like 4th or 5th place.  While I was happy to get on trail, I also felt really out of rhythm as it was fairly windy and overgrown in some spots.  It took me a bit, but I started to find my groove and just worked my way up the hill.  I ran mostly everything, with only a couple of tip-toeing over some of technical spots.  All in all, I was feeling very solid.  Climbing was easy, stomach was good, energy was high, and I had no pains anywhere.  Just keep working.  Cresting the summit of Mary's Peak was nice.  I was hoping to see the ocean, but the clouds were doing a good job of keeping it hidden. 

It felt fantastic to open up and put the gas on a bit through the descent.  I was feeling great, and started to encounter other runners who were part of the 50k and 25k races.  Shouting and receiving words of encouragement was nice, and hearing that I wasn't all that far behnd other 50 mile runners was inspiring me to push and close the gap.  However, I reeled it in a bit, not wanting to get too far ahead of myself.  At this point, only 20 or so miles in, I chose to play it safe.  No stomach issues, staying cool, and feeling strong.  Then, I popped out of the trail and onto a fire road... and, and a choice to make.  To the right, a black and yellow sign that very clearly said NO.  To the left, a gate.  Thinking about the pre-race briefing, I stood there for a second worried if someone had messed with the course markings.  I chose to go past the gate, and for the next mile, I ran...  hesitantly.  Hoping to see a flag confirming I was on the right path, I felt more and more disappointment and concern that I was off course.  I stopped in the road and stood there for a few seconds and decided to head back in the other direction.  As I worked my way up the road, pissing and moaning, I encountered Cary Stephens again running toward me, who confirmed that I had originally been going the right way.  Awesome, I just gave up a few minutes and a wasted a lot of energy.  Oh well.

Cary and I cruised down the road, not saying much and started to encounter the 50 mile leaders who were starting back up the trail.  Everyone looked pretty good, and I was starting to feel a little less than.  We reached the aid station where we could access our drop bags.  I spent a while here, restocking with gels and mixing some Black Cherry VFuel into one of my flasks.  Cary left before I did here as I focused on being patient, making sure I had all I needed.  Turning back up the road, I was alternating hiking and running.  Probably quite a bit more hiking, if I'm being honest.  I was in a bit of a mental funk, and it was starting to feel hot.  Fortunately, I had soaked a bandanna and had it around my neck with was helping.  Stomach was good, and energy was still ok.  Making the turn back onto the trail, I encountered a runner who was worried that he was off course.  I assured him that he was good, and made him aware of the turn at the gate.  Probably like a bit of a smart ass, as I was still a bit salty about what had happened earlier.  Time to put that behind me.  I was starting to struggle with cramping somewhere between miles 26 and 28 which slowed me up quite a bit.  I was hiking more and more, but just wanting to get the last summit behind me.

Nearing the 2nd summit at around mile 29, I was informed by a guy that someone (Chris Concannon) had dropped and that I had moved into 5th place.  That gave me a jolt, and I run well for the next mile to the aid station where I wasted little time filling my bottles and getting going.  The descent was fairly uneventful and  I was moving reasonably well, but I was having to be quite careful to avoid my legs cramping.  This was kind of the theme for the majority of the remaining race.  Run some, feel good, cramp, stop, stretch, cuss, walk, repeat.  At some point I caught up with Cary and we ran together to the next aid station.  We were passed in this aid station by another runner, and I followed after him, hoping not to let him get too far ahead, but still feeling like If I pushed the effort, I was going to cramp and have to stop anyway.  So, I remained patient.  mixing walking and running in as I navigated the "worst" section of the race.  Truth be told, I didn't find it all that bad.  Sure, the ups were steep, but they were fairly short and manageable.  The downs seemed to be less steep though, so it seemed like I was keeping a fairly consistent time, even if it was a bit slower than I would have liked.  The cramps were starting to fade, as I was chewing S-Caps at this point (yes, chewing) hoping that my brain would get the hint that help for the cramps was on the way, and maybe, just maybe, would quit fighting me and let me finish the race strong.  Eventually, I came upon the final aid station with about 4.5 miles to go.  I was relieved.

Trying to waste little time in the aid, I mixed some VFuel into my flask, took two gels, and left just before the 7th place runner.  From this point, I never looked back, trying to focus on running with good form, and not allowing myself to walk a bit.  The cramps were being kept at bay, as I found kind of a sweet spot in my effort.  With about a half mile to go, I caught sight of Cary, who seemed to look back at the same time.  We were both pushing hard, and I tried to close the gap, but ultimately, ran out of real estate, crossing the finish line at 9:51, about 45 seconds behind Cary.  That was good enough for 6th place.  I also managed to put about 4 minutes on 7th place over that last stretch, so I think I was moving pretty well, all things considered.

So, having the last week to process this race performance, I have decided to rate how I feel about different factors with hope that it will help me remember to focus on specific areas between now and whenever the hell I get to race again.

Course Prep: 5/10.  I read a couple of reports and looked at some strava segments, but stupidly forgot the course details that I had printed at the office in my haste to leave work on Friday.  This would have probably allowed me a fighting chance to gain 2 spots in the placing.

Climbing: 7/10.  I trained well during the block leading up to this race.  I could benefit more from a few extra time trials rather than focusing on slow grunts up long climbs, however this should be a supplement, and not in place of those longer ascents.

Descending:8/10.  I'm very happy about how my quads held up during this race.  My technical footing has improved as well.  I could have pushed a lot harder and still would have been safe.

Flats: 4/10.  I didn't feel like I had much "top end" speed.  I think I could have taken advantage of the 7 miles of fire roads at the beginning if I was comfortable running faster.  

Fueling: 6/10.  I'm grouping both eating and drinking into this one.  Gels and drink mix were good, but I think I should always have a bottle for water, and one for mix to supplement the gels.  My stomach held up fine, with little GI distress when compared to previous races.  I'm beginning to think that I don't drink enough water and should probably try to do more than drinking to thirst.  My guess?  I get behind early, and never quite catch up.

Race Execution: 6/10.  I should be more sore than I am.  I believe that I could have finished top 3 in this one, had I gotten a little balsy early on.  In hindsight, I stayed pretty relaxed all day, when I could have suffered a lot more.

Comparing this race to other 50 milers that I have done is a bit challenging.  I ended up about an hour slower than I wanted.  I'm always looking to PR at a distance, regardless of the terrain.  With a 50 mile PR of 8:40, a finish of 9:51 is initially disappointing.  However, considering this course had 3 times the elevation gain of my PR course, I would say all in all, it was a success.  A link to the activity is below, though, it seems to be a little inaccurate in the data until you actually go to Strava.

Black Canyon 100k - Slippery, Sloppy, Shiteree.

Reppin' YRC.
Miss those guys and gals.

I've got a busy year ahead of me. With the hotel opening scheduled for early summer, I am unsure about what the year will hold for me racing wise.  I only know one thing. If I do nothing else, I need my qualifier for Western "Lottery Hell" States. 

Something about IMTUF damaged me. I took basically the rest of the year off after running in September.  The stress of the training volume, living on the road for half a year, or just being burnt out on running left me with very few runs to feel good about leading up to the end of the year. Some additional exploring of the McCall area with Jeremy served as those favorite runs, and unbeknownst at the time would also provide the long run base that I would pull from for the Black Canyon 100k in Arizona. I signed up for the race a whopping 2 weeks in advance after rarely completing a run greater than 7 miles, and having a long run of 18 miles. Cashing in some airline miles, a quick search of employee discount rooms and one decisive click on ultrasignup and I was locked in. What was I thinking?

Well, I was thinking that I've got 17 hours to suffer my way through the race and get the damn qualifier out of the way early and leave myself with outs in case I had to drop. I truly don't expect to race again until the end of the year, but I'll be damned if I am giving up all my tickets.  Plus, sometimes I can pull a decent race out of my ass just by being willing to suffer. Turns out this would be one of those days.

Still Reppin'.

Usually, Black Canyon is a point to point net downhill race. Typically hot, and mirrors Western States in terms of profile, only scaled back. Not the case this year. (Take another look at the post title and have a look at the picture below) Heavy rains and a sketchy looking forecast prompted Aravaipa Running to go with an out and back alternative course for runner safety. So much for the heat training I crammed in. However, I often claim to run better in the worst conditions, since I'm not all that fast. At least I can suffer and keep moving forward. Well, this time that claim was put to the test.

Muddy AF.

7am comes rolling around on Saturday morning and we start off with a lap around the Mayer High School track and proceed down the road for a few miles to trail. Immediately, we are presented with a combination of soul sucking mud, that awful clay that sticks to your shoes and adds like 40 pounds to each foot. Can you say, efficient? I hear a gripe or two over my music, and can't help but smile and keep moving. Next up were the puddles in the ruts on the trail. The soil off to the side of the trail looked appealing, but in reality it was far worse. Some people would try to run between the ruts, but I knew that if I wanted to keep my Altra Superiors at their natural weight, (or close) then running directly in the puddles was the way to go. Fortunately, I covered my feet in Trail Toes prior to the start and that made this crazy idea feasible. 

Eventually, the rain let up a little and the trail hardened back up. Time to roll. Coming into the first aid station at mile 7.8, I had no need for fluids or fuel. 246 in and out.  Having fallen into my typical no man's land of race position, I had the trail to myself. I made a decision that I wasn't going to run this race concerned about leaving enough in the tank for the return trip. Not knowing how my body would feel beyond 18 miles, I just decided then and there to remove the worry from the equation. Don't look at the watch, just listen to the alert to eat every 30 minutes. I tried to take full advantage of the roughly 30 miles of gentle downhill and make best friends with gravity.  This worked well as I came to the turnaround in 4:56, actually feeling really good. Not wanting to waste time in the aid station, I get right back to work. Suddenly my legs spoke up and said "Listen here dumbass, we are going to cramp up so bad that you remember who is in charge here.  Now simmer down."

And simmer down I did. I reached into my pack for salt and was supremely disappointed to find that my pouch of S-caps had gone AWOL.  How far to the next aid? Oh yeah, 7 miles and change. Trying to make the best of it, I told myself it would be best to recharge a bit and bounce back for hopefully, a strong finish.  In hindsight, I should have just asked another runner if they had any to spare. Instead, I marched on, knowing I left a drop back at the Gloriana aid station, mile 37.7.  My first drop bag ever.

The aid station was an oasis. I took advantage and restocked my pack, changed my shoes and had a cup of soup or two. I also left one of my layers here, thinking I wouldn't need it any longer as the sun popped out to say what's up.  Big mistake. I eased into a walk to bring my locked up legs back to life and shortly thereafter, I was back to running. I looked at my watch a time or two and saw some sub 10 minute miles and just kept taking what my legs and the course would allow. This kept up until around mile 51 where I was treated to a bonk of epic proportions. I was dizzy, nauseous, and I couldn't see straight. I recognized this feeling from a run at Rapid River with Jeremy just as I collapsed on the side of the trail. I dug into my pack and found a Bonk Breaker bar, 2 gels and a caffeine pill and ate all of them, willing my stomach to keep everything down. After spending maybe 5 or 10 minutes sitting there, I slowly began walking and eased in to a run, seemingly back in it.

Chugging into the final aid station at mile 54, the weather became the worst that I had seen all day. The sun was setting and fog rolled in, leaving like 30 feet of visibility.  Pouring rain and some pretty stout winds had left me feeling like a boxer who had gone 11 rounds and faced a fresh opponent in the 12th. My torso was covered with my singlet, pack and Patagonia Whodini shell and it was doing nothing for me. My body was freezing and I knew that I had to run as hard as I could through those final miles just to stay alive. Ok, maybe a little dramatic there, but that is how I willed myself to the finish.

The puddles on the course over those last 7 miles were calf deep in some places. Only now, beneath the water, the mud was doing everything it could to suck my shoes off of my feet. I don't know how they stayed on, even now. After what felt like an eternity,  I exited the trail and back onto the road with an extreme sense of relief, knowing that it was an easy 2ish miles to the finish. With my head down, I focused on good form and ignored the soreness in my legs and gave what I had left. I was growing weaker by the second, because I hadn't eaten or drank since the last aid station, not wanting to risk being any colder by unzipping my jacket and gaining access to my pack below. Just then, I was surprised by another runner on my right who turned out to be Drew Adams, a fellow runner from Idaho. He seemed to be moving effortlessly, but we resolved to run it the rest of the way together. The last 2 miles took something like 18 minutes, but it felt much faster than that. Arriving on school grounds and making our way back to the track,  I was relieved to cross the timing mat in 12:10- a PR by nearly 20 minutes. A couple of pictures later and into the gym we went to get out of the storm.  I for one, had had enough for the day.

In the gym, I found myself in a hypothermic state. The EMTs brought me over to a cot and covered me with three sleeping bags. After some time, I relinquished my place to another runner and grabbed a hot shower in the locker room. Fortunately, I felt 10 times better.

There you have it.  A hell of a trip, a hell of a race, and a hell of a day in general. Shiny buckle in hand, and yet another qualifier under my belt, I'm free to do whatever I want (or am able to) with the rest of my season. I don't know what will come, so for now I'll enjoy this extra legroom from a welcomed upgrade and worry about it later. A slippery, sloppy, shiteree of a start  (or finish) to the season.

Upgraded on all flights.  My legs appreciated it.