Jemez and some other bits and pieces

Just a few thoughts as I get ready for a huge day in the mountains on Saturday. And I do mean huge.

I knew when I signed up for Jemez that it was the kind of course I might enjoy: a ton of climbing (12,000'+ to be (almost) exact), wilderness, views, cross-country fun, and a highly competent race committee. I hear the food is good too.

After taking the time this week to explore the details a little further, I have actually come away a little intimidated by it all. Not only is a lot of the running taking place above 9,000', but there are also three trips above 10,000', which is an altitude I haven't run at since last year. While running at (relative) altitude is not really an issue for me, it is my first run of the year at sustained altitude, so you never know. More of a factor, however, will be the descents.

The Jemez course is known for its big climbs and crazy-steep descents. I welcome both, but am a little fearful, I guess, of getting carried away on the descents. That said, the course offers the perfect opportunity to assess how my downhill legs are progressing with regards to sustaining a solid effort late in the game at Western States. At Jemez, the last nine-mile section of the course is essentially a 3,000' drop, and this comes in addition to what have been described to me as insane descents earlier in the race where one essentially jumps off mountains on to scree slopes and hopes for the best.

Sustained and prolonged downhill running (and heat) still remain something of an x-factor for me in my preparations for States, so hopefully this weekend will offer up some clues as to what, if anything, I need to tweak in the five weeks before June 26. We're currently looking at a high of 78 for Los Alamos on Saturday, which means I get hills and heat ... perfect.

So, yes, Jemez is most certainly a training run. I've said all along that the singular goal for the first half of the running year is Western States, which has meant compromising other races that I might otherwise have tapered for. With that said, however, I have been feeling fairly rested this week and think that I might be able to put forth a competitive effort on Saturday. There is some good - and evenly matched - competition which will keep the effort honest, and while Senor Karl has suggested that Kyle Skaggs' course record (8:08) is not in jeopardy, I think it is fair to assume that Karl's ranking as the second fastest dude over the course (8:58) is in danger. Kyle's course record is so much faster than times posted by others that I have to assume that it would take a highly motivated run from a very talented mountain runner to beat it. However, I am betting that the winning time will be somewhere in the mid-eights (versus 9:14 last year).

What else? I took my running streak into triple digits on Monday. That's right, 100 days and 150 runs without missing a day. I plan to end the streak with my run in California next month, as I have learned that while good for motivation and getting out the door, running streaks are - on balance - poor training tools. They coerce you into running when you know you should be resting and that's a dangerous game, especially when nursing aches, pains and injuries.

Umm, if you fancy a crack at a Towers PR, or just a run up Towers, and read this in time, then we'll be at the Soderberg trailhead at 6:00 tonight. Hope to see you there. Oh, and happy birthday to me - I just got even older.

On Windy Days and 100-Mile Training

I had one of my best runs in quite some time today. I ran five miles in approximately 50 minutes with about 1,000' of climbing in howling winds.

What's so great about that? Not much in and of itself. In fact, I'd probably have been better off not running at all, but five easy was the internal compromise. You see, my running brain is in a state of confusion right now. It knows full well that I am in need of rest, yet it also knows that I need to run and it has become fixated on 100-mile weeks and an annoying running streak.

Anyway, I'll tell you what was so great about today's run.

Firstly, there was very little fatigue in my legs (something I have been dealing with - and running through - for a few weeks now). Secondly, and more importantly, I didn't take that as a green light to go out and hammer a bunch of miles or rocket to the top of Horsetooth at record pace. Instead, I stuck to my plan of trying to re-find some training and racing mojo by going easy and accepting the fact that I'm teetering on the brink of burnout. There, I said it.

Honestly, I can't believe how tortured my legs felt on Sunday at the Crazy Legs 10k. Right from the get go, I had as close to nothing in my legs as I've felt in a while. I still competed, and actually managed to muscle out a decent run, but I felt like crap and didn't enjoy a second of it. And that's a problem.

Anyone who reads this blog with any degree of regularity probably realizes that I have a competitive personality - annoyingly so at times. It's that competitive nature that gets me out the door twice a day to go run a bunch of miles. I respond well to running twice a day, however that second run is often a chore rather than a pleasure. And that's a problem.

The minute this running gig becomes too much like hard work is the minute I need to give it up. But I can't let that happen. I enjoy running and being in the mountains too much to let that happen. Besides, I want to pass on to my children and to others around me the joy of being in the mountains, and I won't be able to do that if I'm hating every second of it. So obviously I need to refocus here and get back to enjoying the training process and away from grinding my way through it.

I know that to be competitive at, say, Western States in June I'm going to have to grind out some miles, but when I'm running aimlessly around Dixon Reservoir at 4:30 in the afternoon, padding my weekly mileage before picking up my son from daycare, my thoughts are typically zeroed in on either race strategy or they are off day dreaming about an epic run that strings together six or seven peaks. I find more distraction from the mundane nature of my reality in the latter, yet the competitive side of my personality ensures that I keep moving forward in search of the racing goals that I otherwise find myself thinking about.

Numbers are important to runners, but they can also be incredibly dangerous. In recent weeks, I've been heading out the door on nearly every run with a watch strapped to my wrist, and I've found that the correlation between wearing a watch and enjoyment has been a negative one. Through the months of January and February I didn't wear a watch on any of my training runs - only at races - and I felt an amazing sense of liberation in that. As the trails have cleared and the running has become more predictable, I have for some reason been strapping the digits to my wrist more frequently, which in turn has caused me to want to run my training runs at a harder pace and, not surprisingly, has resulted in a greater sense of accumulated fatigue.

Therefore, other than for specific workouts, I have decided to ditch the watch for the remainder of this training cycle as it provides little in terms of feedback. I simply don't need a watch to tell me that I completed a run faster or slower than I did yesterday; that's all there in perceived effort.

And so I have to find compromise, which is why today's run was such a good one. I kept my stupid running streak alive, but I allowed myself to run at a pace that wasn't far removed from a hike and I didn't even remotely feel like taking a turn that would have added two, five or ten miles to my outing. No, I stuck to the plan, embraced the wind and enjoyed my run. Half way around a hiker was quite clearly enjoying his day too.

"Carpe Diem," he exclaimed as I sauntered past him. "Carpe Diem indeed," I responded.

There's not much to learn on this blog about training for endurance races - I make it up as I go along - but this I do know: it has to be fun or it just ain't worth it.

Racing Year in Review

In only my sixth full year of running (for the sake of running), 2009 has easily been my biggest, most successful and most satisfying. Prior to this year, I had only once experienced the satisfaction of being the first to cross the finish line of a race (Heart Center of the Rockies 10k, '08). This year alone I won a total of seven races, easily beating any and all expectations I had going into the year, so I think it would be fair to label 2009 as something of a break-out year for myself (at the tender age of 34/35). A full break down of my finishing positions in the 23 races (416 miles) I ran go as follows:

1st: 7
2nd: 5
3rd: 2
4th: 4
Other: 5

Much of my competitive success this year has come from running in smaller fields against local runners, but even admitting that, I'll give myself some credit for being consistent across a broad range of distances, while also maintaining a consistently decent level of fitness throughout the year - meaning that when fields were weak I could capitalize.

I am well aware of where I stand in the grand scheme of things on the running hierarchy (especially on roads, where there is no hiding from the black and white of finishing times), but being able to race at the head of a field, no matter its size or talent, has added a new level of fun to the process for me.

Some runners compete almost exclusively against the clock, and that is fine, but truth be told I much prefer the heat of battle than I do the satisfaction of a new PR. With that in mind, I look forward to continuing a few rivalries that have developed this year and last, while also stirring up a few more. In addition, I am anxious to run a few races again in 2010 that I felt went sub-optimally for me in '09, the most notable of which is the race on Manitou's Big Hill - this time up and down.

With regards to times, I set a bunch of new personal records this year, some by hefty margins - suggesting that I am still on the steep section of the improvement curve (for now) - although I suspect the curve will begin to level off in 2010, but I do hope that I have a couple more years of continued improvement before age begins the slowing process regardless of the effort I put into training. Here are the personal records I achieved this year:

5k: 17:19 (split for the 10k at Harrietsham in December. I consider this to be at least 40 seconds soft).

4 mile: 22:00 (Thanksgiving Day Run).

10k: 34:48 (Harrietsham 10k in December. A reasonably solid PR, although it was run on the back end of back-to-back 100-mile weeks).

Marathon: 2:43:35 (Dublin).

50 mile: 7:03 (Collegiate Peaks).

** I didn't win a single one of the races I PR'd at.

My half marathon PR was set three of four years ago in the 1:23 range, so that is a target for 2010, as is my 5k PR which I hope to bring down to 16:30 or lower in the first half of 2010. I would also like to find a fast 50 miler to run (maybe AR50) to set a PR there. Other than that, my races were largely at altitude and on mountainous singletrack courses, where the only real measure is previous course-and-distance times. Those races that I did run for a second time this year were all considerably faster than previous efforts.

At times this year, I have felt a bit short changed at getting into the sport so far advanced into my prime competitive years, but then I think back to the fun I had playing rugby and other team sports as a kid, and I realize that I probably wouldn't change a thing - other than the hatred I had for running as a training tool, and a few years in my middle 20s where I achieved little to speak of with regards to health and fitness. I also try to remind myslef as frequently as possible to quit whining and understand how fortunate I am to even have the freedom, health and desire to get out and do what I do on a daily basis.

I plan to train hard in 2010 to continue to make the most of the time I do have left to run to my body's full potential. As such I have set some pretty lofty goals for 2010, which I won't go into here, but suffice to say that Bandera is one of a few stepping stones towards the goals I have set.

Thanks to all who have offered advice, encouragement (here or elsewhere), company on the trail, inspiration and laughs over the course of the year. Running is a solo endeavor, but I find it to be a whole lot more fun when shared with good friends - old and new alike.

See you on the trail ....

Round Mountain Summer Time Trial

Last time I chased Round Mountain, in January, I was pretty pleased to get up the 4.75 miles and 3,000 feet of rocky, switchback-laden singletrack in under an hour (58:23), but at the time I figured I was good for at least a sub-55-minute ascent with increased fitness and better, snow-free conditions. I decided to take a stab at the 55-minute goal last night. I was joined by Jonathan Zeif, who is in training for his tenth Journey Across the Sky in Leadville this summer. If successful, which he will be, J.Z. will bring home the coveted (and ridiculously large) 1,000-mile belt buckle.

The conditions at 6:30 on this evening were overcast and spitting rain - pretty good considering it could have been sweltering or massively stormy. As usual, I didn't much feel like embarking on an hour of hurt, but that's what mountain racing is all about (once you find your threshold and rhythm, it's never that bad).

Through the first mile, I was huffing and puffing, feeling slow and generally out of sorts. I was surprised then to see my one-mile split at 10:09, which was a minute faster than last time. Hmm, effort felt hard, but sustainable. I was going to wait for the two-mile split before calling this one a PR'able run.

Second, and toughest, mile came in at 11:53, another minute quicker than last time. I had found my groove and knew that a PR and FKT was in the cards. My effort felt similar to my run in January, so I concluded that I was simply a minute per mile fitter over this climb than I was in the winter. The third mile, which includes some flatter and faster sections, in addition to some of the steeper switchbacks on the climb, came in at 10:35; 90 seconds up on January. Now it was just a matter of maintaining the effort and seeing where I could shave some extra seconds with increased push. I decided to stay steady on mile four, hitting the split at 11:04 (one minute faster again), and then push the final 3/4 of a mile with whatever I had left.

The final stretch has probably the steepest climbing of the whole run, but it also has the best footing so you can really push if you have anything left. I felt like I still had some good push in me, so put my head down and ground out what I could, which turned out to be a 9:13 last split (another minute shaved) for a total run time of 52:55, or a 5:20 PR and new fastest-known time (FKT) for local runners who keep track of such things.

Very pleased with this run and the evidence that I'm in good aerobic shape despite significantly reduced mileage in the weeks either side of Bighorn. My legs felt great, so appear to be back on track after the beating they took two weeks ago, although I'm fully aware that they're probably not entirely healed. I plan to take it very easy after the Leadville Marathon next weekend to let everything repair properly before shifting my focus to the roads, and the beginning of a training cycle that will hopefully culminate in a sub-2:40 run at the Dublin Marathon in October.

I wore the Crosslites for their first outing since I got them the other day. Unfortunately I had the laces pulled too tight, so suffered through numb feet for most of the run. In addition, I had some pain in my right arch because of the narrow fit. On the plus side, the shoes are like none I have ever run in before, both in terms of lightness of feel and in flexibility across the whole shoe. I know La Sportiva build rock climbing shoes, so I couldn't help feeling that the fit of the Crosslites kind of felt that way: tight and flexible. These shoes are going to take some getting used to, but once I've figured out the right tension to put on the laces, and find trust in the flexibility of the shoe, I think they're going to rock as much as I thought they would when I got them out of the box for the first time.

Finishing up a Big May with a Big Bang

I've been running a lot through May, twice a day on most days and averaging upwards of 18 miles through 27 running days. Looks like I will come in at just over 500 miles for the month with over 60,000 feet of climbing.

The intensity with which I have gone after the miles this month is completely new territory for me. Through the first half of the month it was a struggle, but the deeper into May I've gotten, the stronger I've been feeling and the easier the daily two-hour, first-run grind has been. So much so in fact that the Wyoming Marathon last weekend was over shortly after I felt like I was getting warmed up. My confidence levels have never been so high, and with the Big Horn starting gun just three weeks away (to the minute), I couldn't feel better about my chances for a strong finish.

Anyway, I intend to finish up May with miles, climbing and intensity. First up is the Pilot Hill Classic, which is touted as the oldest footrace in Wyoming. This Saturday will be the 33rd running of the 15.5-mile hill climb and descent. The climb doesn't look that intense - 1,500 feet over 7 miles - but the descent is reportedly pretty loose and treacherous. The field is typically small and is capped at 100, but there are usually a couple of Cowboys from the University of Wyoming track team who show up, so the pace should be good. Just got off the phone with Ryan B, and he's toying with the idea of running, so either way I'm looking forward to a competitive race.

Sunday will be the last day of the big-mileage-and-climbing phase of this training cycle. Ryan and I have an early morning start planned for a triple crossing of Crosier Mountain - a nearby, lower elevation peak that is currently clear of snow. We plan to out and back from all three trailheads for something close to 26 miles and 8,000 feet of climbing. Should be something of an epic. We plan to get going at around 6:30. Anyone who happens to read this in time and wants to tag along is more than welcome. I would imagine we'll work fairly hard up the climbs, but probably take time at the top to refuel and soak up the unbelievable views of RMNP.

Got to love Colorado in the sun!

Rocky from Round Mountain

Downhill Running

AHHHH!

To the uninitiated, running downhill seems easy, fun and certainly preferable to running uphill.

Au contraire. I would take a net uphill race any day of the week, and I actively seek races that involve little to no downhill running. Downhills strike fear into the deepest recesses of my soul. Sure, it's fun to pound a technical downhill or two on a short training run or race, but the pounding delivered to the quads over the course of, say, 50 miles and 8,000 feet of descent is enough to reduce some of the most hardened runners to a quivering mess.

Of course, there are plenty of great downhill runners out there, and I used to think I was among them, especially on more technical stuff. While I still believe I have good downhill form, I'm learning that I do not have good downhill endurance. Prolonged descents during races consistently leave me with trashed, crampy quads and sundry aches elsewhere on my frame.

I was humbled a couple of weeks back at the Salida Marathon by Ryan Burch and Tim Parr who put 10 and 20 minutes on me respectively over the course of 13 miles of steady descent. This after I had paced with them through the opening 10-12 miles of climbing. Since that experience I have pledged to work the downs, rather than jog the downs in training as has been my MO through much of the winter.

While I think uphill strength is, on balance, more important than downhill strength in long-distance mountain running, fried quads can quickly ruin a race and leave you in perpetual fear of the next drop. The following five points are what I am finding work for me:

1. Consistent downhill training makes you a stronger runner. Ambling downhill is not a form of downhill training, just a comfortable way of getting down a hill/mountain after a long climb.

2. Gravity is your friend. Keep the body relatively straight (as opposed to bent at the waist) with your center of gravity over your feet (slight lean).

3. Avoid breaking as much as humanly possible. Let gravity dictate your pace and attempt to reduce foot contact with the ground by working a higher cadence and shorter stride. Long strides with strong push-offs and heavy ground contact will kill your quads ... quickly.

4. Keep the knees slightly bent in a bid to reduce quad and overall body pounding. Allow your knees to act as shock absorbers. This has been my biggest and most effective change thus far, but it is far from natural and I have to keep reminding myself. I'm fortunate in that my knees are still pretty strong. For those with weaker knees, this is probably not the best advice.

5. Stay focused and pick your line three, four or five steps ahead. Don't be afraid of falling. Be one with the trail.

Whatever works best for you, one thing is for sure, you can't ignore downhill training if you want to run a hilly long-distance race to the best of your ability.