Round two?

The dust hasn’t yet settled on the trails of the 4 100s I set out to complete this year, in fact one of them hasn’t event taken place, but already I’ve had to commit to deciding whether to enter the 2009 Western States 100. Following the cancellation of this years event because of forest fires, the organizers offered all the accepted entrants a place in the 2009 race, subject to meeting entry qualifications, without having to go through their lottery process. They’ve even offered a break on the usual entry fee, so how could I refuse!

As for the other events, I’m still undecided – but ‘never say never’.

Pondering the Fall

After a week on the road in the sunny climes of Antigua, the past weekend provided 2 days of perfect running as the early signs of fall descend upon us. Getting off the plane back in CT on Friday evening it was noticeably cooler than when I left the previous Tuesday and by Saturday morning the thermometer was showing 47 degrees. At the meeting point for our run, we shivered as we waited for the last runners to arrive before setting off into the woods keen to get warm. It had been decided to check out the trails of a local state forest know as Cockaponsset, which is close to the town of Chester, CT. The trail system offers some great running, parts are technically challenging but there are also areas where caution can be abandoned. There were no bugs in the air, the sun shone and the temperature turned out to be perfect, you really couldn’t ask for better conditions.

After about an hour outbound from the cars, half the group turned back while six of us continued. By now though we were quite spread out so every now and again we regrouped to allow the back marker to catch up. Four days of zero running didn’t seem to have any negative effects, in fact the run was one of those occasions when everything seemed to click into place. If only that had continued into Sunday.

Same location, different company, different day but same crisp fall weather. By coincidence Guthrie had arranged to meet friends to run once again at Cockaponsett and then go for breakfast. The zip in my legs wasn’t quite the same as the day before but then the pace at times was also a little quicker and the last couple of miles on a dirt road at the end felt like my eye balls were about to pop out! Within seconds of stopping though, as is often the case when you run under strain, the moment of discomfort is a distant memory and it was time for breakfast. We chatted in the sunshine, enjoyed omelette, toast and coffee and time flew by without a care.

Life here in New England is characterized by the passing of distinct seasons, the Fall is probably my favorite because the air smells fresh, the temperatures are perfect for outdoor activities and there is something about the almost childlike pleasure of wading through crisp crackly leaves that have fallen to the ground.

It is two weeks before the Traveller 100, the last of my Slam odyssey.

View from my window

This week brings me to Antigua, not for a leisurely sun baked vacation but 2 days work. Still my running stuff is in my bag and later today I hope to drip out through the humidity for a short bimble.

Since Wasatch my running has been relaxed, the ribs are still sore but not sufficient to prevent a 3.5 hour run last Saturday when a group of us bit the Bluff. For the uninitiated, that involves running a significant section of the route to be used for the Bluff 50k Race that I’m directing at the end of next month. So, you’ve not entered yet? May you should – click here.

This is my first trip to Antigua. I can in from San Juan last night and had to find my hotel which is hidden downtown by the quay. I passed it 3 times before I finally worked out how to reach the entrance. The roads are hardly wide enough to get a single car through and they twist and turn constantly so maintaining your bearings is a challenge. This morning there is a gentle breeze but it does nothing for the humidity that is a stark contrast from the weather I left behind in CT.

I can’t give you a taste of the atmosphere, but below you can at least see the view from my hotel window.

Enjoy the memory

So far this week I’ve run once since Wasatch. I decided to give my sore ribs chance to recover but also the motivation hasn’t been there and there didn’t seem to be any point to fight it. This morning I joined the early run and felt great to begin with; “hey the rest has done me good!” I thought, but pretty soon the ache in my ribs and tired legs hinted that the burst of energy was short term. How easy is it to forget.

On the subject of memory loss though I spotted an article yesterday that described a study into as association between memory loss and a deficiency of the vitamin B12.

Older people with lower than average vitamin B12 levels were more than six times more likely to experience brain shrinkage, researchers concluded.

While race times seem to be slowing these days, the pace of advancement towards permanent confusion and incontinence seems to ever increase. Why is it that as you get older the days pass so much quicker? Hopefully I have plenty of time before it becomes a reality (assuming I make it that far) and it will be nice to be able to reflect back on some of the crazy adventures of the past. In the mean time, I guess I need to make sure I’m getting enough vitamins.

Wasatch, ‘the best of times and the worst of times’

I survived the Wastach Front 100 and what an experience. I thought the course was probably the hardest but also the most spectacular trail run I’d ever done. Man, those views were amazing!

The day before I’d felt a little nervous, more about the prospect of not finishing and must confess my temperament wasn’t the most patient. We purchased food supplies for Guth, found a running store where she brought a triathlon top and hiked a short distance of the trail at the start before going to the pre race briefing. Renown for its brevity, it turned out to be a little longer than expected but still didn’t divulge much information about the adventure to come. We left in search of food and an early night.

Two AM and I slowly kicked into action before the 30 minute ride from the hotel to the start. We got there with an hour to spare – did I mention that my nerves were a little on edge?

The start from my position was a bit of a stampede and I was concerned that the runners around me were going to fast so early on. Dust from the trail filled the night air and unusually there was little conversation. Often the adrenaline causes a few to chatter with friends over the early miles. The first climb lasted an age but once at the top those views spread out below us. I’m not good at taking in the vista at events like this, but at Wasatch it was different and I wished I had time to stop and take more in. In fact that thought returned several times during the day!

The hills were relentless, up then down – up then down and as the sun climbed in the sky the temperature added an additional ‘degree’ (or two) of difficulty. Determined to try and maintain hydration and calorie input I worked hard on regular feed and drinks, but at each significant climb the dreaded nausea made its self known. Somewhere around the 40 mile mark a runner passed me on a narrow trail as we traversed a hill side. To my annoyance, once he passed me he slowed down leaving me nowhere to pass! After a few minutes he did the same to another runner a short way ahead, who with obvious frustration did manage to overtake. After some distance of running and walking behind the ‘blockage’ I made my bid to get by. My option was on downside of the trail and at the point of no return I slipped. I immediately feared that I’d have too much momentum to avoid rolling a considerably distance down the hill but managed to stop just a few feet off the trail. As I came to a stop my right calf cramped causing my foot to turn inward. Pain and my precarious position prevented me from reaching my foot so in a desperate act I grabbed and squeezed the cramping muscle until I could straighten my foot into the correct angle. To my surprise, I was able to scramble to my feet and continue. At the next aid station, the other runner praised me on my acrobatics – I’d just be given a Popsicle and he will never know how close he came to having it inserted somewhere, but in the heat the cool refreshing taste was too good to waste! I didn’t notice at the time, but the fall bruised my ribs on my right side. During Sunday night and and the flight back to CT, they reminded me of their irritation constantly.

By 3 PM I was struggling to eat on the move, my drinks tasted nasty and food made me gag. I stopped eating between aid stops and as a result probably reduced my fluid intake. At one of the weigh stations I was 6 pounds below my check in weight, which isn’t good but no-one challenged me about it. The downside to eating less on the move meant that I spent more time at some aid stations eating as much as possible. It may sound odd to suggest I was cramming food but I wasn’t, it was just that the little I was consuming took a while to eat!

Out on the trail I developed a pathological hatred of Gatorade. At the Bear last year my venom was directed at Sustained. Each mouth full made me gag and at one stage when my stomach was feeling particularly uncomfortable, I deliberately took a large gulp of drink, anticipating that the result would be an instant replay – and sure enough it was! The relieving effect though was much more preferable to the gurgling my stomach had been performing a few minutes before!

At mile 75, the Brighton aid station is inside a warm building – what a kicker! I ate and got out as quickly as I could, the time was around 1:30 am. I hadn’t paid much attention to the course elevation profile and if I had I might not have been so quick to venture out as what followed was yet another huge climb. Thank goodness I didn’t see it coming!

Through the night we continued, the markings were at times few and far between but generally there was only a single tail to follow. Around 3 or 4 I became very sleepy and despite coffee at the aid stops and a NoDoz, periods of lucidity came and went causing me to fear that I might miss a turn. But all was well and with the dawn the desire to nestle down in the undergrowth passed.

By now I had given up my personal goal for a sub 30 hour finish as I was judging that I’d arrive at the Homestead after 10 am. As it turned out, my brain was clearly not working clearly. Unlike several other 100s that start at 4am, the 30 hour cutoff at Wasatch isn’t until 11 am because of the later start. I didn’t realize this little bonus until the awards ceremony! The last 25 miles seemed to be the most mentally challenging. Distances didn’t seem to relate to the actual, 5 miles felt like 10 and several of the downhills were steep and strewn with loose rocks that rolled when you stepped on them. As the end approached you could see golf courses in the valley below and I knew we must be near the end as the Homestead Resort is a golf resort. But the trail continued to snake around the hillside, offering tempting short descents that never seemed to get us any closer to the lush greenery below. When we did finally emerge to a road, the course markers waved from posts off into the distance and there was no indication how far the final section of road would take.

I spotted another runner ahead and trotted after him as I drew closer he looked back. I felt a twinge of guilt at the prospect of passing so close to the finish – but hey this is a race! The guilt vanished as I breezed by! And there it was, the banner indicating the end. I heard my name being called out as I crossed the line 7 minutes after 10. Guthrie managed to miss the moment as I crossed the line. She asked for a replay, my retort can not be published!

I sat on the cool shaded grass, pleased to be done.

Jurassic bones and plastic wrap

So Guth and I joined fellow cheapskates and cycled down to New Haven to watch rather than run the Labor Day 20k road race. The day was long, we covered a little over 40 miles, which wasn’t a huge distance on a bike but with the stops to cheer on friends and then chill out after the event, we clocked up several hours. But it was fun!

I’m not a good race spectator especially at the start when I inevitably wish I had signed up to run. Once the race was on it’s way though, we were completely occupied with dashing around town trying to stay ahead of the runners we wanted to support.

The highlight came when, as a group, several riders escorted our friend Master Po on the final mile or so. He is one of a number of runners who now recieve automatic entry, identified by their yellow bib numbers, who have completed every New Haven Road since the event began.

On the ride home I managed to embarrass myself by falling off my bike while we were stopped. I over balanced myself on my right while my shoe was still attached to the peddle! I suspect I’m not the first rider to do such a ridiculous thing, but that thought didn’t help my dented pride.

Later that night we stated to pack for Wasatch prior to our Thursday departure. To avoid carrying large containers of drink mix, we decant quantities into plastic bags. I’m always a little nervous at the prospect of a sniffer dog with a sweet tooth discovering them at the airport – you have to admit that a bag containing large packets of light colored powder might initially raise a few eyebrows!

Wasatch here we come – I just hope the finale isn’t like Leadville.