Thursday, December 31, 2015

2015 Year in Review

A few days ago, I was in the midst of a multi-day break from running. I was intentionally resting my legs after a long Fall filled with my first 100 miler, my first 100K, a marathon PR, and a slew of tempo runs. I wanted to make sure I took it easy for a bit before beginning my 2016 training for Western States. And I found myself itching to run. I thought about it every couple of hours ... I really wanna get a run in! ... it's great weather for hitting the trails! ... just lemme lace up my shoes and head out the door!  In my impatience it donned on me, I finally feel like a runner.

The years since I finished college have been filled with infrequent bouts of running, but no sustained efforts, no training plans, no goals or desires, and entirely too many weeks and months that passed by without ever lacing up. I could never find a way to motivate myself to stick with running. If I was a runner, I was the laziest runner around. Which is why this year has been so special for me.  I looked down deep and realized I didn't just want to be a runner, I needed to act and actually become one.

Year in Review

A Rough Start

My year started in a rather unimpressive manner. Before Thanksgiving I had a stinging sensation in my knee, and subsequent attempts at running were hit or miss.  I had a 4+ hour run just after Christmas that ended with me gingerly jogging for 10 miles as I fought off the stingers that made my knee buckle. After that foolish run I knew I needed time off, so nearly all of January I was sidelined with injury.  This was not a good start!

The Canyon

The much-needed rest worked out well and it enabled me to accomplish something I'd been dreaming of for over a decade: running Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim at the Grand Canyon.  My quads were nowhere near prepared for the hard downhill running and uphill hiking, but I survived the 42 mile solo run at the end of January without a hint of pain in my knee. It took me 12 hours and 24 minutes, a far cry from Rob Krar's FKT! That experience galvanized in me a desire to pursue ultra running; without that Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim run I may very well have spent the entirety of 2015 lounging around on a couch, wondering if I'd ever have the resolve to get back into running.

My First Ultra

Winter and Spring progressed slowly.  I was ever mindful of my knee, so runs were easy and infrequent.  I signed up for the DC North Face Endurance Challenge 50 Miler to focus my efforts and keep me from lapsing into apathetic running and an eventual abandonment of running for the umpteenth time. To stay focused I even signed up for the Grindstone 100 a week before the DC NFEC.  That's right, I signed up for a 100 Miler before I ever ran a single ultra race! When the April morning of race day approached, I felt confident. I wasn't going to go out there and run a sub-8-hour race or anything, but I knew that I would be able to finish. I paced myself well and ran smart but an awkward downhill foot strike with nearly 20 miles to go sent a stabbing pain into my knee.  Great, just what I needed!  The rest of the run I did everything I could to maintain an easy stride that wouldn't trigger the knee stingers, so my pace slowed dramatically.  As I finished the race I regretted the slow finish due to injury but was proud of my overall accomplishment.  In the last miles I though to myself, even with the bum knee, I could easily keep going for another 10 miles!

Rehab and Recovery

By May, I had seen a specialist who diagnosed me with patellafemoral pain syndrome (PFPS), a variant of Runner's Knee.  It was probably a result of my rapid increase in my long run distance over the previous Fall -- rookie mistake! May and the first half of June was spent avoiding running and going to physical therapy.  I performed stretches and exercises that strengthened my hips and knees, focused on the stabilizer muscles in my legs, and stretched out my hamstring.

In mid-June I randomly signed up for another 50 Miler, the OSS/CIA 50, a night race.  I KT-taped my knee just in case, but I didn't have a single problem with it all night long!  For icing on the cake, I somehow managed to finish in 3rd place despite brutal humidity, taking it really easy for the first few hours, and running off course for nearly 30 minutes. I was getting healthier, my legs were more responsive, my endurance was improving, and my confidence was going up.

Preparing for My First 100 Miler

For July and August I focused on hitting a series of hills with a 10% grade, over and over again, to prepare my legs for the 23,000' of gain and loss at Grindstone come October.  I also slipped in a 50K in horrible July heat that taught me a lesson in what happens when you push the pace too hard and don't take in enough liquids on a 90 degree day.  Despite near heat exhaustion and quad cramps that ruined the last third of the race, I still finished in 6th place and my legs somehow recovered quickly afterwards.  I then attended the Jarmans Invitational Marathon in August, near Crozet, VA.  The JIM is a lesson in boredom and inclines.  You run up and down a 3 mile stretch of gravel and paved road 5 times. The "race" starts at noon, so it's sunny and hot. The road has 1,500' of gain for a nearly 10% grade. There's no scenery, save for some pit bulls and mountainside yard trash.  By the end of it, my quads were sufficiently trashed, but it gave me the confidence that I could overcome the long climbs at Grindstone.

And at some point in August I thought it'd be fun to run over the same 1.2 mile stretch of trail in DC's Rock Creek Park for 5 hour straight, by myself, netting a cool 26.2 miles in 5 hours, covering 55 hill climbs and 55 descents and nearly +7,000'/-7,000' of vertical, albeit in little 100'-200' chunks. My run-up to Grindstone also included a final 3 weeks that had 30, 33, and 37 mile runs.  The last run, 37 miles, was bookended by 13 mile runs, netting me over 100K in less than 48 hours.  When it came time to taper, I was confident I'd be able to finish my first 100 Miler.


Grindstone was a blast! One of the best moments of my life. I took the race easy for the first half and still got to the turnaround nearly on pace for my "A" goal of 24 hours.  I chased that time hard for a few hours, but ended up bombing on the final couple of climbs -- a lesson in where to focus efforts next year.  The final 10 miles were nearly all downhill, many of which I'd ran before on a previous long run of mine.  I had tried saving my legs for this final stretch but they failed me on the earlier climbs.  After a few minutes, though, my legs woke up and I found enough energy to tear ass to the finish. My final stretch of running rivaled the pace of the Top 5 runners that day.  I ended up in 16th place and less than 11 minutes shy of sub-24.  Moreover, I felt, again, that I had more in the tank when I crossed the finish line.  More motivation for next year!

End of the Year

My season started wrapping up by spending a couple weeks recuperating from Grindstone and then switching gears to running tempo runs and intervals for a few weeks leading up to a fast, flat trail marathon on the C&O Canal in DC.  I held a strong 7-flat pace for the first 18 miles, but then my legs began to tighten up ... having run a 100 miler only 4 weeks prior, it was to be expected.  I fought hard trying to hold onto a Boston Qualifying time of 3:05 but ended up almost 2 minutes back.  Never-the-less, I finished in 2nd place and peeled 14 minutes off my marathon PR. Not bad for only spending a couple weeks of "training".

A few weeks later I ran a 5K fun run in 18:16.  It was nearly a 1 minute drop from 6 months prior and was wholly unexpected.  All of that ultra training and those few tempo runs have completely overhauled my legs. By the end of 2016 I may very well PR in the 5K, too.

A Gift from the Running Gods

In early December I learned that I snagged an entry into Western States with my single lottery ticket earned from Grindstone 2 months prior.  The running gods were certainly kind to me and my 3.6% odds!  I am so grateful for the opportunity to race Western States in 2016 after only one year of running.  It's been a lifetime dream of mine to toe the line at Squaw Valley and run for the coveted silver buckle.  Having this opportunity so early in my newly found running career is, simply, incredible!

One More Race? Eh, Why Not!

And finally, I was able to run Hellgate 100K in December. I only really considered running it after my strong showing at Grindstone. It was a great finish to the year. I had high hopes of finishing in under 13 hours and nabbing a Top 10 spot, but around 15 miles in, my quads started to twinge.  It wasn't anything bad, but I could tell that my muscles were still recovering from Grindstone and that marathon PR in the previous weeks.  ... So I backed off the pace and just enjoyed the run.  I ended up finishing in just over 14 hours, but I can't complain. This race was somewhat of a last-minute decision and I didn't want to blow out my legs knowing that I'd need to start training for Western States in the next few weeks.  So those final 50 miles were more of an easy jaunt in the woods, capped off with a near-leisurely stroll over the final 6 miles where I was able to step back and reflect on my year as it came to a close.

Luckily, that race gave me a great lesson in hill climbing that I hope to carry into 2016.  I usually get smoked on the uphills because my hiking is atrociously slow ... it was my downfall at Grindstone.  But at Hellgate I experimented with a run-walk strategy of 1 minute "on" and 40 seconds "off" (180 strides of running and 80 strides of recovery walking). I was able to maintain that on all of the climbs with ease. I can't wait to refine that skill over the next few months ... it's going to do wonders on bringing down my race times in the future.

One piece of advice I have is that you always find a lesson in each and every race that you can learn from and build upon going forward.  Finding that I did, in fact, have the legs for climbing at Hellgate was one of the highlights of my year and it came to me during a race that might have been considered a disappointment given how far off my finishing time was from my "A" goal.

Final Thoughts

All in all, I had a fantastic year.  I logged 1,200 miles in total, most of it in the second half of the year. That may not seem like much but it's probably more than I've ever ran in a single year before.  And I did it while taking nearly 10 whole weeks off to try and correct my knee injury. ... And, a number of those weeks were 1 and 2 run weeks of 15 miles or less. I can't wait to focus more in 2016 and stick to 5 and 6 run weeks.

I also logged nearly 135,000' of vertical gain this year ... nearly 26 miles of vertical gain!  I can certainly feel how those hills have strengthened my legs.  I feel more fine-tuned than ever before and I'm looking forward to knocking down my race times from the 100 Mile all the way down to the 5K. 

This sport is incredible. The races are genuine life experiences. The people I've met and suffered with are amazing people and I can't wait to see them again in future races. I look forward to what 2016 has in store for me ... and I hope it includes a shiny silver buckle!

Friday, December 18, 2015

2015 Hellgate 100K Race Report

I've tried to structure this Hellgate race report so that there is less of "my experience" and more of a "just the facts" summary, complete with a breakdown of the vertical profile of the race.  I've also tried to avoid repeating course details that can be found in other race summaries, like Keith Knipling's or Aaron Schwartzbard's.

So What Is Hellgate?

I've heard from many runners and across a number of race reports that Hellgate is a "very special race".  For starters, it's a 100K qualifying race for Western States, so that should tell you that it's no ordinary jaunt through the woods.  It has a number of climbs, particularly in the first sections of the race, that total out to roughly 13,000'.  And it takes place in the Virginia mountains ... in December!  Some years, the course is covered in ice and snow.  In at least one running of the event, runners learned that corneas can freeze, bringing about term Hellgate Eyes.  The event is the brainchild of East Coast running guru David Horton, and he's designed it to humble the lucky few who take part every year.

... And Why Did I Run It?

I'll be perfectly honest.  Hellgate was not originally on my race calendar for 2015.  The whole point of my first season of ultrarunning was to build up for the Grindstone 100 in early October.   But after I drastically exceeded my expectations there, I decided to see about Hellgate, too.  I had 2 motivators for signing up for the race:

  1. It's a 2017 WS100 qualifying race, so over the course of 2 months I'd be able to secure entry into the 2016 and 2017 lotteries by finishing Grindstone and Hellgate. Hooray!
  2. I don't know how much longer I'll live in the Mid-Atlantic before moving back to the Midwest, so while I'm out here I'd better experience a "classic Horton" race.
I had plans to get some good runs in between Grindstone and Hellgate and come to race day prepared to push my limits.  But I babied some post-Grindstone tendinitis, got sick for a week, succumbed to Thanksgiving laziness, spent another week taking care of a sick kid, and the next thing I knew I had a 100K on the horizon and the only training I had to show for it was a pancake-flat marathon a month before and a handful of 6-12 mile tempo runs.  I certainly wouldn't be overworked coming into the race, but I was fearful my legs would have no strength or endurance left to successfully tackle this challenge.

What Irks Me about Hellgate

Before I jump into a race analysis and jump through a series of praises which far outnumber my complaints, I feel the need to point out a couple things that really bug me about this race.

Horton Miles

For the uninitiated, this 100K is actually somewhere between 66 and 67 miles.  Horton's overall mileage and AS-to-AS mileage are notoriously off. A lot of people think this adds to the quirkiness of the race, and yeah, it does, but I just can't seem to shake off how infuriating it makes me!  We live in an age where everyone has highly accurate GPS sensors on their wrists, so why the heck is a race director shrugging his shoulders with a resounding meh! about how inaccurate his mileage is.  Oh well ... Luckily there are a slew of race reports out there that runners can consult to overcome the evils of Horton Miles.

Just remember, IGNORE the mileage on the Aid Station signs!

I Thought This Was a Trail Race

With the location in the Virginia mountains, one might assume that this is a trail race.  One would be wrong.  This race does have some good single-track sections, particularly towards the end of the race, but on numerous occasions while running I thought to myself "where the hell are the trails?!".   I'd classify this race as a hybrid race, a hybrid between a trail race and a hillbilly road race.  "What's a hillbilly road race," you might ask.  I'll describe it as a race that takes place across backcountry roads, gravel roads, fire roads, double-track ATV trails, and the like.  So that's a major complaint I have about Hellgate, but this aspect of the race also lends itself to some amazing positives, which I'll highlight below.

What's Awesome About Hellgate


Extending your race season into December can be exhausting, or so I hear.  This, again, was my first season of ultras so I don't know any different.  But it doesn't take a genius to figure out how daunting it can be to keep up a difficult training regiment deep into Fall as it gets colder and darker every day.  And to show up to the starting line in good shape, you also have to avoid getting sick as flu season picks up ... no easy task, especially for those of us with little ones running around. It's especially trying for anyone competing in the Beast Series, as they have to endure a 100M and 50M in the 2 months prior to Hellgate.

The 12:01am Start

The race starts just after midnight, partly to ensure every runner spends the same amount of time racing in the dark.  You're unlikely to get much of any sleep the day before so by the time the race is over you'll most likely have been awake for upwards of 36 hours.  Just before 11:00pm, everyone loads up in cars to drive from Camp Bethel to the starting location.

There's just something special about running at night, the whole experience feels so surreal.  And this race takes full advantage of it.  Despite my disdain for the gravel roads and fire roads of this course, they provide some amazing views during the nighttime climbs at the start of the race.  As you're huffing and puffing up the mountainside, you can look out over the edge and see dozens of little blips of light snaking their way up behind you.  I'm sure it'd be even more incredible with a full moon out, but sadly we were racing under a new moon in 2015 -- though the skies were clear and filled with stars. My favorite moments of the race were the climbs in the first 24 miles.

The Vertical Profile

I LOVED this race profile.  It doesn't have a lot of huge climbs but it does a great job of varying the elevation with lots of little ups and downs.  A lot of the uphills are runnable, which can lead someone into inadvertently expending too much energy in the first third of the race without realizing it.  If that's the case, the last third of the race would be rough going.

I think my favorite part of the race was the final climb and descent.  It's a great way to cap off a challenging course.  I personally took the opportunity to treat the final mountain as my victory lap.  Instead of trying to book it up and down at the end, I lazily strolled up the mountain and then even more lazily tumbled down the backside as opposed to tearing ass to the finish.  I used that time to reflect on my first season of ultrarunning as it came to a close, and to look ahead to what was in store for me next year.

The Leaves

It's December. There are leaves EVERYWHERE!  A majority of the single-track -- and even some of the double-track -- were downright treacherous with the amount of leaves you had to wade through.  Rocks and downed tree limbs are hidden from site, waiting to ambush the unaware or overzealous runner. Towards the end of the race there was what felt like a 10 mile stretch of trail that I had to take about 2 minutes per mile slower than I wanted simply because I had no idea what the hell was underneath my feet with each passing stride.  I will admit to taking a couple of tumbles as my foot sank through a patch of leaves covering a sizable depression in the trail or hiding a slippery rock.  I certainly wasn't the only one getting beaten up by the seemingly innocuous leaves.  There were many huffs-and-puffsgod damnits, and son-of-a-bitches to be heard by all.

The Gravel Roads

Wait a minute ... wasn't I just railing on the lack of single-track?!  Yes, yes I was.  But these wider trails and roads to run on also gave Hellgate a unique flavor.

First of all, throughout the night portion of the race, these wider trails lent themselves to expansive views off the sides of the mountains.  The starlight was just strong enough to illuminate ridge lines beyond the dark abyss. The ability to even see the stars was rather unexpected and very much appreciated.  If I was trudging along a steep section of the course I could just look up and gaze at thousands of twinkling lights -- something I never get to see living in DC.

Also, I found these sections of the course to be much harder on my feet.  I was expecting the loose dirt and soft leaves of single-track trails.  Instead, I got a lot of heavily compacted roadway littered with gravel.  This made the miles feel a little bit tougher.  Just another way for the race to test you.

Additionally, and this one is just a theory right now, but I imagine these long, steep gravel roads could be particularly tricky to navigate if covered in inches of snow or a sheet of ice.  Seeing as how temps for the 2015 race ranged from 45 to over 70, I can only imagine what these sections of the course would be like in bad weather.  It's mostly for this reason that I want to sign up for the 2016 Hellgate and hope for a challenging winter race.

Vertical Profile Analysis

I like to think of races in terms of major uphill, downhill, and flat segments. So I've provided a breakdown of Hellgate into thirds, and for each third I have data on each major climb and descent. I find this type of planning useful, so hopefully some of you out there might find some value in it, too.


When planning out a race strategy my first order of business is to create a crude profile in Excel to capture all of the noteworthy inflection points in a race. I then estimate the average grade for each section and use that to calculate an expected pace for each section according to past data I've gathered from training runs and other races.

An example of what I use is the graph, below, from an easy-paced 30 mile training run on the Grindstone course that I used to help plan out my 100 mile race.

(Running Pace vs Incline)

For each uphill and downhill segment of the run (or for each mile if the miles are generally incline-only or decline-only), I plot my training run pace on the Y-axis against the average gradient on the X-axis.  Fitting a 2nd Order Polynomial generally yields a good fit across a wide range of gradients.  In this particular example, my data suggest I run a comfortable 11:30 pace on flat sections, something on the order of 16:00 pace for a 10% incline, and roughly a 10:00 pace for a 5% decline.

I'll then use this curve fit to calculate paces for each section of the race course ... and I'll generally add time penalties to my estimates as the race progresses: add 1 minute to each projected pace for miles 30 to 55, add 2 minutes for miles 55 to 80, add 3 minutes for miles 80 and above.

Using the above curve fit and adding 0:30 to the pace for miles 30-49 and 1:00 to the pace for miles 50 and above, my projected Hellgate finish was 14:03:25.  That's 9 seconds off of my actual finishing time!  So taking data from my 100 miler training runs and applying it to Hellgate told me that if I took the race easy and treated it like a mountain 100 miler, i'd finish in roughly 14 hours, and that's exactly what happened.  A quick use of this planning strategy yielded a planned finish for Jarmans that was also very close to what I ended up running, and after manipulating the time penalties for Grindstone to return a best case 24-hour finish, this process was scarily close to predicting my actual AS-to-AS splits.

... But enough of that ... Here is the breakdown of Hellgate's Vertical Profile.

Hellgate 100K Elevation Profile

Here, again, is the elevation profile:

The profile itself, as well as the drop bag locations at Aid Stations 4 and 7, lend towards breaking this race up into thirds.  The first third is heavy on climbing, the middle section has more downhills than uphills, and the final section has mostly smaller climbs and descents before a final 6 miles of fun!

First Section:  Start to Top of Climb Just After AS4

This section is dominated by climbs.  In the first third of the race (technically 37% of the race), you cover over 40% of the vertical gain (just over 1 mile of climbing), but less than 30% of the total vertical loss.

The table below breaks this section into 4 segments, and each segment has information about each major climb and descent.  My distances and altitudes are estimates -- no GPS watch is perfect -- but they should be fairly accurate.

StartEndDistanceStart AltEnd AltTotal GainTotal LossAverage Grade
To AS1Flat0.03.83.89001060500-3204%
To AS2Petite's Climb3.88.14.3106024401400-406%
AS2 @ 8.1
Petite's Descent8.19.61.52440170040-770-10%
To AS3Climb #19.610.61.017002050380-108%
Descent #110.611.40.82050175020-350-9%
AS3 @ 14.2
Camping Climb11.415.64.2175032501630-1008%
To AS4

(Drop Bag)
Camping Descent15.617.62.032502700110-680-8%
Climb #117.621.33.7270036001160-2607%
Descent #221.323.11.83600280070-880-10%
AS4 @ 24.6
Climb #

To AS1

There's not a lot to discuss here.  This section is fairly flat.  There is a slight climb at one point, but I honestly didn't even notice it.  This is a good way to start off the race.  You can crank out some decent splits while getting your body warmed up.  The only thing to note about this section, in my opinion, is that there are a handful of creek crossings. If it's a fairly warm and dry race day, as 2015 was, there's no need to try and find a dry crossing -- your feet and socks will dry in no time and it won't affect you later on in the race. This section ends at AS1, which you don't really even need to stop at.

To AS2

This section is effectively the climb up to Petites, and the descent back down.  The Petites Climb is over 4 miles long and it gains over 1400', but the grade is only around 6%, so this, too, is a fairly runnable section of the course. I myself ran most of the climb without much trouble, only stopping on occasion for a speed hike break.  You reach AS2 at the top of the climb.

I lumped the descent after AS2 into this section because it's a fast, easy downhill section and doesn't really belong in the same section as the upcoming Camping Climb.  I easily cruised down this descent in a similar pace to the flat first 4 miles of the race.

To AS3

This is a 6 mile section that includes the biggest climb of the race, the Camping Climb.  But first, you have to climb up and go back down a smaller mountain. That first climb and descent are roughly 1 mile each and cover between 350' and 400' of vertical change, for about a 8-9% grade. I believe this section is gravel roads and you can actually mix in running with power hiking on the uphill, but don't push yourself too hard because the short descent isn't a lot of time to recover before tackling Camping.  The Camping Climb is just over 4 miles long and gains over 1600' for an 8% grade.  It's steeper than Petite's and warrants the use of longer stretches of power hiking.  I believe I found a fairly good groove with 1 minute of short-stride running (180 steps) and around 40 seconds of power hiking for recovery (80 steps).  You'll actually reach AS3 before you get to the top of the climb, so if you're feeling good I wouldn't dilly-dally there.  If you're struggling up the climb, AS3 is a good place to take a breather since it's roughly 75% of the way up.

It's worth noting that this section is a great opportunity to check out the trail of headlamps along the course. It's a pretty impressive sight.  And the fact that you're not on single-track means you can look up and admire the stars if it's a clear night.  For the 2015 race, I had thought temperatures might dip into the 30s along this section of the trail, but I doubt if they ever got below 45.  I was in a t-shirt and felt just fine.

To AS4

This section is roughly 10 miles long and you stay in the same altitude band of 2700' to 3400'.  The section is comprised of two descents and two climbs, totaling roughly 2000' of both gain and loss. As far as I recall, it's mostly gravel roads or double-track. You start by descending 2 miles and roughly 700'.  It's a fast and easy section.  The first climb is fairly long at 3.7 miles but the grade is 7% and there are a decent amount of runnable sections.  Here, I again employed a 180-80 step run-hike strategy to much success.  The second descent isn't very noteworthy other than to say it can be a bit steep at times, but not unmanageable.  The final climb takes you up past AS4, which is roughly three-quarters of the way up the climb.  It's a good climb, much like the previous ones.

By this section in the race, I had personally decided to dial it back a bit.  Since I hadn't put in any quality training runs in the previous 2 months, I started to notice my quads rebelling.  I was getting very slight tweaks that forced me to stop and stretch a couple of times along this section.  I knew I had a lot of downhill running ahead of me so I decided to abandon any hope of getting close to a 13 hour finish and instead protect my muscles and treat the race as a very long and enjoyable training run.  For what it's worth, I think I was ahead of a couple of eventual Top 10 finishers when I pulled into AS4.  I went to my drop bag, swapped out my electrolyte concoctions and discarded my long sleeve shirt, jacket, gloves, etc. (that I never used!)  As I was doing that, a swarm of runners flew through the aid station, never to be seen by me again.

Horton says that more people will drop out at AS4 than at AS7 -- the two major drop spots.  I honestly don't get why.  So much of the first third of the race is on non-technical roads and contains climbs that offer plenty of opportunities to slow down and relax.  My advice is to take this first third comfortably.  And when you get to the AS3-to-AS4 segment, make sure you don't get overzealous on the downhills and bomb out your quads.

Middle Section: Just Beyond AS4 to AS7

This section has 2 major descents and a handful of smaller climbs and descents.  In this middle third of the race, you cover nearly 43% of the vertical loss (just over 1 mile of descent), but less than 25% of the total vertical gain.

The table below, again, breaks this section into segments, and each segment has information about each major climb and descent.  This section begins just after AS4 when you finish the final climb of the first section, and the section ends just before AS7, which is located about 0.4 miles beyond the final descent of the middle section.

StartEndDistanceStart AltEnd AltTotal GainTotal LossAverage Grade
To AS5Descent #
Descent #227.930.82.93000150080-1490-10%
To AS6Climb #130.833.32.515002350920-1408%
AS6 @ 38.5
Climb #236.838.92.113501840620-1407%
To AS7 (Bag Drop)Descent #138.941.72.818401450210-580-5%
Climb #141.742.81.114501780390-908%
Descent #242.844.61.817801160150-690-9%
Climb #244.645.71.111601550400-307%
Descent #345.746.81.11550113020-420-8%
AS7 @ 47.2

To AS5

This 5.6 mile segment that goes from the top of the climb beyond AS4 to AS5 is dominated by two major descents and a small climb.  The descents can be fairly steep at times but there's nothing too remarkable about them.  There is some single-track in here that feels fairly technical -- at least, it was in the dark -- but most of the descents are on double-track.  For about half of the runners, you'll be finishing this segment with enough daylight that you can turn off your headlamps; but the the front-most runners will come through here in the dark.

To AS6

Getting to AS6 requires a modest climb of 2.5 miles, and then a good-sized descent before climbing another 2 miles or so.  The top of the climb is technically a couple tenths of a mile beyond the aid station.  The faster runners may need a light up to this aid station, but I personally was able to keep the light off for about 5 of the 8 miles between AS5 and AS6, largely because a good portion of the race is on gravel roads and the slower-paced climbing demands less of a light source once dawn creeps up.

You'll get to the aid station towards the end of the second climb, and it's located at a bend in the road.  Beyond the aid station, the gravel road appears as if it's carved into the hillside.

To AS7

The first portion of this segment is a very runnable downhill gravel road.  But then you hit the single-track and it all changes.  For more than 6 miles you'll be running on single-track that isn't too demanding vertically, though there are a couple of ups and downs.  But what you will notice about this section is that the terrain changes drastically.  This is where the leaves may start pissing you off.  For many parts of this section, there are rocks along the trail, but they're all covered by a foot or more of freshly fallen leaves.  I, and others, had to cut our strides down considerably to avoid losing our balance and crashing to the ground after getting caught on those hidden rocks.  This isn't the last section of the course that will force you to wade through leaves, but for me it was by far the most tedious.

You'll finish this segment of ups and downs and then a few tenths of a mile later you'll cruise into AS7, the final bag drop location.  And if you're lucky, Horton will be there to heckle and goad you on.

Final Section: AS7 to Finish

I rather enjoyed this section of the course.  It's dominated by single-track, which was a welcomed change of pace.  Also, the types of climbs and descents change considerably.  This section of the race, roughly 20 miles in length, covers the final 30% of the race and contains roughly 30% of the total vertical gain and loss.  However, a good deal of that is saved for the final climb and descent.  Between AS7 and AS9 are rolling stretches and much smaller hills that are much easier to mentally tackle one-by-one.

At this point in my race, the sun was starting to show up in full force.  The temperatures began climbing into the 70s and I really started to perspire. I'm usually light on the water intake most races, only consuming 2-3 ounces per mile.  But for this section I made sure to down at least 16 ounces of water between every aid station, take on another 8 ounces or so of ginger ale or Gu Brew at each aid station, and continue to work through my ultra-dense calorie/electrolyte concoction (EFS Slurry -- a 16 ounce mixture of water and EFS liquid shot and powder registering at roughly 500 calories and more electrolytes than any human could ever need).  I took in nearly 100 ounces of liquid in these final 20 miles to ward off dehydration and heat exhaustion.

StartEndDistanceStart AltEnd AltTotal GainTotal LossAverage Grade
To AS8AS7 @ 47.2
To AS9Descent #
Climb #155.956.70.814401850430-3011%
Descent #256.757.50.8185014900-360-9%
Climb #257.558.40.914901840360-208%
Descent #358.459.20.81840141040-460-12%
Climb #359.259.80.614101610210-107%
Descent #459.861.01.21610128010-330-5%
To FinishFinal Climb61.063.32.3128024201160-3010%
Final Descent63.366.73.42420118020-12507%

To AS8

This 6 mile section goes by fairly easily, if you ignore the occasional frustration of the hidden rocks under the leaves.  It begins with a modest and manageable climb.  Once you get to the top you skirt alongside the ridge, rolling up and down a maximum of 200' at a time.  This is the only section outside of the first 4 miles of the race that are fairly flat and runnable.  The issues, however, are that you're 50 miles into the race already and "runnable" has to be taken into the context of those damned leaves.

Aid Station 8, Bobblets Gap, is at the end of this flat section and just before a modest descent.  This aid station had enticing pierogis and ice cream when I ran through it, but I was to close to the end to be bothered with such luxuries!  I simply filled up my water, downed some ginger ale, and went about my business.

To AS9 -- AKA "The Forever Trail"

As you can see by the elevation profile, this penultimate section for the race is defined by 3 lesser peaks. After a comfortable descent -- again, on leaf infested single-track -- of nearly 3 miles, you begin working your way up and down these smaller climbs.  This section is called the Forever Trail because, well, it feels like it's taking you forever to get through it.  A lot of the trail looks the same so if you're feeling tired by this point, a bit of deja vu might be in store for you.  To make matters worse, if you put too much stock in Horton Miles you'll only expect to run this section for 6.6 miles, in which case you'll spend the last 20-30 minutes of this section wondering if you're going crazy.

Personally, I really enjoyed this section.  I wish it would have gone on for longer.  I found the single-track to be very runnable.  The 3 hills are only 200' to 400' climbs, with each climb and descent taking no more than a mile.  If you're feeling good you can easily alternate between running and walking the hills and make some good time.  As an added bonus, the third and final climb is only a little more than 200' and roughly 0.6 miles in length.  Piece of cake!  Then, it's a 1 mile downhill into the final aid station.

To The Finish Line!

When you roll into AS9, the task ahead of you looms large.  The final climb is almost 2.5 miles long and nearly a half mile of vertical at a 10% average grade.  It's along a fire road so you can get some pretty good views all around you as you work your way up, assuming you have the energy to take your eyes off the road in front of you.

I started this section mixing in running and power hiking. A haphazard gear drop at AS7 led to an accidental stop of my watch for nearly 20 minutes and I wasn't 100% sure about how much further it was to the finish line, nor was I 100% about just how long the climb was.  I thought it was a cool 3 miles up and 3 miles down -- as opposed to 2.3 and 3.4 miles, respectively.  I did the math and figured a sub-14 finish would be too hard and might trash the legs I'd been carefully babying all day.  ... I backed off the pace ... and ... I really enjoyed the hike up to the top.  I got dropped by Marc Griffin, whom I'd been running with, more or less, for the past 3 hours.  Oh well.

When I got to the top, instead of bombing down the fire road on my mostly fresh legs, I continued to take it easy.  I looked all around me, soaked in the vistas, and took some time to think through what I'd accomplished in my first season of ultrarunning. ... And then someone passed me ... and they passed me HARD.  It was about halfway down the descent.  I brushed it off and let him barrel down the mountain. Then I looked behind me and someone else was coming up on me fairly quickly.  So I said screw it! I picked up my pace from a pedestrian 11 minute-per-mile descent to about 7:00.  Lemme tell ya, if you have the legs, you can fly down that mountain!

With a little over a mile to go, you pop out onto a paved road that leads back to Camp Bethel.  The road flattens out a bit, but it's still a modest descent -- instead of the roughly 10% grade coming down the fire road, you're rolling along at something like 4%.  Just before I popped onto the paved road, I saw the guy who had blown by me a few minutes ago.  He had probably built a solid 2 minute lead on me in less than a mile, but I started gaining on him and that proved to be wonderful motivation.  Moreover, Horton marks the 1 Mile To Go spot on the road in spray paint.  It's impossible to miss and provides a little extra oomph to your stride.  I didn't full-on sprint near the end, but I was surprised as to how fresh and fast my legs felt.  I ended up hitting that final mile in 7-flat and was only a handful of seconds away from catching my end-of-race rabbit.

Final Thoughts

Coming through the chute and having Dave Horton there to greet you is a great experience.  With the near-record high temperatures and me taking the race easy, I can't say that I am able to truly appreciate just how "very special" Hellgate is.  But I'm certainly willing to give Hellgate another chance in 2016.  I'll do my best to toe the line with legs that are more prepared, and maybe, just maybe, there'll be some snow, ice, and cold to combat.

Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Hardrock 100, An Old Boys Club?

The 2016 Hardrock 100 race lottery is fast approaching, and lottery ticket data was recently released. So what is a runner with a statistics degree to do after a long day in the office ... write a Monte Carlo simulation in Python to determine everyone's chances of snagging one of the coveted slots, of course!

Hardrock Lottery Explained

Detailed information about the lottery can be found here, but here's the basic idea:
  • There are 3 distinct pools:
    1. "Vets" with 5+ finishes
    2. Folks who've never started before
    3. Everyone Else
  • There are 152 slots available:
    • 35 reserved for the Vets
    • 47 reserved for the Nevers
    • 70 reserved for Everyone Else
  • Only 2 people get automatic entry, the previous winners. They take slots away from whatever pool they would have been in. The 2015 winners -- Kilian Jornet and Anna Frost -- are both considered "Everyone Else", so there's actually only 68 slots available in that pool.
  • Each pool has a different ticket allocation process:
    • Vets get a ticket for each finish
    • Nevers double their odds each successive year they don't make it in -- 1 ticket, 2 tickets, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, ...
    • Everyone Else gets a ticket just for applying, another ticket for each previous finish, and a ticket for each successive year they don't make it in.
    • There are also bonus tickets available for volunteering in support of the race, but I won't get into that.

2016 Lottery Odds

Here's the results of my simulation, broken out in a handful of ways.

First off, here's the odds based upon ticket counts:

(2016 Hardrock 100 Lottery Odds)

The results are pretty dismal for anyone who's never raced before. 1,315 individuals are vying for 47 slots, an overall selection rate of 3.6%.  For first time applicants, the likelihood of being accepted is less than 1% -- 0.95% to be precise.  That's rough!

Veterans, on the other hand, all have a greater than 67% chance of being selected, with only 19% of those applicants -- 8 out of 43 people -- getting the short shrift.  So if you had the benefit of participating in Hardrock before ultrarunning really got popular, your odds of making it in are still better than the poor schmuck that's never gotten a chance to start and has been rejected 7 years in a row.

In the Everyone Else pool, there are 189 folks vying for 68 slots.  So 36% of entrants who've had the opportunity to start the race in the past but aren't yet "vets" will be able to toe the line again in 2016.  Digging a bit deeper you can see that a select few, 4 entrants, have only 1 ticket.  This means those 4 individuals started their first Hardrock race in 2015 but DNF'd ... and they all have an 11.7% chance of toeing the line again in 2016.  Contrast that with the Never pool, where someone has to get rejected 4 consecutive years before eclipsing those odds.  And for folks who started their first Hardrock race in 2015 and actually finished, their odds for making it in again in 2016 jumps to 22% ... a "Never" has to suffer through 5 consecutive rejections before achieving those kind of odds.

2016 Odds by "Years of Waiting"

We can break everything down a bit differently, utilizing the number of DNS's since last start (or in the "Never" case, simply the number of DNS's) to get an idea of how the odds stack up relative to how long you've been waiting to race.
(2016 Hardrock Lottery Odds and Wait Time)
The lines show how odds increase as you patiently wait, year after year, to get into Hardrock.  The 2016 Western States odds are included for comparison.  I've also included entrant counts.


  • Overall, 30% of "Everyone Else" will get to start 2 years in a row.
  • Odds for "Nevers" suggest having to wait 7 years before getting those favorable odds.
  • "Nevers" likely have to wait 7 years to exceed 50/50 coin flip odds, a full 2 years longer than the Western States lottery
  • "Vets" are a small sample so their downward trend in odds is misleading, but overall, they clearly support the argument that Hardrock is becoming an Old Boys Club.
  • Interest in Hardrock is somewhat correlated to interest in Western States -- entrant counts are shifted by 1 year.  Folks who have been waiting for 1 year to start WS is roughly equivalent to the number of Hardrock entrants who either finished last year, or have signed up for the lottery for the first time.  This makes since considering Hardrock bills itself as a "graduate level" race -- theoretically, someone new to the sport would want to first try their hand at qualifying for Western States, and then maybe move on to Hardrock in the following year(s).

Expected Wait Times

Taking probabilities based upon the number of DNS's Since Last Start, we can calculate Expected Wait Times for various entrants.  My numbers are all based upon the 2016 odds, so these results will, sadly, be overly optimistic if interest in Hardrock continues to increase and/or race directors do nothing to alter the lottery system.

(2016 Hardrock Additional Wait Times)

The table shows the number of years an entrant has currently been waiting -- Current Wait Time -- which is 0 for anyone that started the 2015 race or is a first time lottery entrant. The Additional Wait Time is the expected number of additional years to wait before getting into the race. The best way to think of it (though not most accurate statistically) is the amount of time it takes to get to at least a 50/50 coin flip chance of making the next race.  The Projected Next Start is what year to expect your next (or first) start -- Additional Wait Times under 0.5 were rounded down to 0, implying an expected 2016 start, but everything else is based on a ceiling function (if it says you'll wait 1.2 years, then go up to 2, implying you'd miss the 2016 and 2017 lottery but make 2018).

The results are pretty grim.  For a first time applicant, like myself, I shouldn't get my hopes up for Hardrock until at least 2022.  That means I'll spend more time staying fit in anticipation of this race than some people spend in medical school.  Fantastic!

On the other hand, the 43 Veterans and 189 members of "Everyone Else" all have expected wait times of less than 2 years.  Just another bit of evidence that Hardrock is an exclusive club that wants to reward existing members instead of sharing in the fun.

Service Ticket Value

The Hardrock lottery contains one very unique component: service tickets.  Individuals can increase their chances of making the lottery by volunteering.  The qualifications for these additional tickets are a bit intense -- serve as an aid station captain, 2 days of Hardrock trail work in the previous year, 5 years of "general" volunteering for the race -- but they're a great way to reward individuals who are dedicated to the race.  The service tickets are particularly of value to the "Never" pool because they have the potential to drastically increase the odds of making the lottery.

Here is a summary of the added value of one service ticket for the "Nevers" -- which acts as an additional DNS.

(2016 Hardrock Lottery Service Ticket Value for "Nevers")

The table shows the percentage increase in your selection odds as well as the odds multiplier when factoring in the added value of a service ticket.  For a first-time applicant, a service ticket will double your odds but it's only increasing your probability from 0.95% to 1.89%.  However, someone who is applying for the 7th time could have increased their odds from 45.87% to 70.41%.  So it appears that the service ticket option is only going to be helpful for "Nevers" who have already been rejected 5 or more years (29 individuals in 2016).  Anyone with fewer DNS's than that (the remaining 1,286 "Nevers") isn't really helping their odds all that much.  Which is a bit of a shame because the whole idea of the service ticket is that it is intended on rewarding a runner that shows a commitment to Hardrock, but that commitment is effectively worthless for all but a handful.

All told, it appears that only 24 of the 1,315 "Nevers" accumulated service tickets. Only 4 runners accumulated multiple service tickets: one person with 0 DNS's who raised their odds from 0.9% to 3.7%, someone with 2 DNS's who raised their odds from 3.7% to 14.2%, someone with 3 DNS's who raised their odds from 7.3% to 26.4%, and one lucky individual with 4 DNS's who raised their odds from 14.2% to 45.9%.  All that hard work and none of their odds even reaches a 50/50 coin flip!

What's worse, is that according to the Hardrock website, some of those service tickets are use it or lose it because they're earned for service "in the previous year's event".  Odds are that those service tickets are only going to benefit 1 or 2 runners, the rest would have been better off waiting another year (or two, or three, or four, ... ) before volunteering.

This isn't to say that volunteering for races isn't a great thing to do, it's just that in this instance the added value of increasing your lottery odds is mostly a myth.

Expected Starters

Based upon the lottery odds, we can estimate the overall level of experience that will toe the line in 2016.

(2016 Hardrock Expected Experience)

Vets in the lottery account for 401 past starts and 371 finishes. "Everyone Else" accounts for 418 past starts and 301 finishes.  The "Nevers", naturally, are 0 and 0.  When factoring in lottery odds, the expected experience at the start of the 2016 Hardrock 100 will be a total of 515 past attempts and 446 finishes (including Kilian Jornet and Anna Frost).

These numbers are, quite frankly, absurd.  The Hardrock race directors say they want a mix of experienced and new participants in their race, but the lottery as it is currently designed will place 47 individuals at the start who have never been in the race before, and the remaining 105 runners will average nearly 5 starts apiece and 4.5 finishes.

The Lucky Ones

With over 550 first time applicants and single-ticket odds of 0.95%, we can expect that 5 lucky runners will quite literally win the lottery and make it in on their first try -- it may be a couple more or a couple less, but there's going to be somebody that defied the odds.  Hats off to you lucky few!

The Sad Souls

While a great many of us hopeful entrants have less than a snowball's chance in Hell of making the 2016 Hardrock 100, I think we can all agree that pity needs to be taken upon two poor souls, Tom Masterson and Andy Kumeda. I have no idea who these two guys are but these two "Nevers" have missed the lottery 8 and 7 times, respectively.  What's worse, while Tom now has a 91% chance of making it, Andy has only a 70% chance -- a slim 3% better odds than Vets who have finished 5 times already (and worse odds than anyone that's finished at least 6 times).

I wish this were one of those rare circumstances that reflects simple bad luck.  But with the increasing interest in the race, it's all the more likely that Tom and Andy's situation will become the norm unless radical changes are made to the lottery process.

Time For a Change?

It's clear that the current formulation for the Hardrock lottery is unsustainable.  Despite being revised only a few years ago to make things more fair, and recently adding 12 slots to the "Never" pool, wait times to get into the race are absurd.  And it's only looking to get worse as the ultrarunning craze continues to go mainstream.  As it stands, the Hardrock Lottery is, by its very design, meant to maintain an Old Boys Club that keeps past participants in and leaves everyone else stuck on the sidelines.  Now, I don't think anyone wants to see Hardrock turn into the debacle that Leadville has become in recent years, but something needs to happen to ensure enough new and highly motivated runners have the opportunity to run, if only just once, before they start fearing the Grim Reaper will come knocking on their door.

In a future post I'll take a look at simulation results with a modest change to the slots allocation that would increase the odds for the "Nevers" without sacrificing the "veteran" and "experience" aspect the race directors prize so much.

Sunday, November 29, 2015

The Lazy Runner Manifesto

I decided to piece together some rules of running that I've used to keep my running on track and stress free. Without further ado, here they are...

1.) Just Say "NO" to Junk Miles

There are more marathon training plans out there than you can shake a stick at, and many of them ask that you log 50, 60, 70 miles a week and run nearly every single day.  And many of the runs in those training plans are "recovery runs".  These runs are great if you're really looking to fine-tune your running and compete in races rather than simply enjoy them. But for an overwhelming majority of us, these extra miles are just another opportunity for injury or burnout. If you have a particularly tough run one day, don't feel bad about taking a day or 2 off ... or even 3 or 4!  In my first year of ultrarunning I went from a nearly decade-long hiatus from running to a strong finish in my first 100 Miler by only running 2 or 3 days a week. I never felt burnt-out, my legs always felt strong, I stayed healthy, and I made a ton of progress in my running. And all that progress was made by averaging 25 miles a week -- some weeks were less than 20 miles, some weeks I took off entirely.  I only ever got to 50-70 miles when I had long races or in the last couple of weeks building up for my first 100 Miler.

2.) Run with PURPOSE

This is related to the first rule and it's pretty simple -- make sure most of your runs have a purpose. If you're not going to be logging tons of miles week in and week out, the miles you do run need to count.  For ultrarunning that means LONG runs and HILLS.  It's pretty simple! Long tempo runs or extended runs at marathon pace will likely help you ratchet up your VO2 max a little bit over time, but when your average pace for a race is considerably slower than marathon pace, they're not really all that necessary. I may love to run, but I also love lounging on the couch, spending time with my family, and having a life beyond exercise. By making sure I have 2 or 3 purposeful runs each week, I can rest for the remaining days.

3.) Hit the Hills

Hill runs are the single most useful exercise in the ultrarunning bag of tricks.  Running uphill is speed work in disguise. Long, continuous hills of a mile or more are a fantastic workout, but not all of us live near the mountains so running up and down a decent sized hill over ... and over ... and over again is good enough. But don't just focus on those uphills, the downhills are where you really start testing and pushing the limits of your quadriceps. A good hill run with a healthy dose of downhills is going to give you a solid bout of DOMS, or Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness, which is vital to pushing the limits of what your legs are capable of.  AND ... hills are just downright fun!  Well, maybe not fun like going to a ballgame, but having some varied terrain in your runs can boost your spirits and give you a heck of a sense of accomplishment.

4.) Listen to Your Body

This may seem obvious, but too many runners sacrifice their body and risk injury for the sake of sticking to a rigid running schedule.  If your muscles feel sore, take a day or 2 off. If your joints are achy or your tendons seem to be a bit inflamed, make sure you take enough time off from running so that you can heal completely -- maybe it's only a couple of days or maybe it's a couple of weeks. If you take a week or 2 off to get back to 100%, it's unlikely you'll lose much of your fitness level. My general rule is that if I feel a new pain, I won't run again until I'm pain free for 48 hours in my day-to-day activities. That may be a bit on the cautious side, but it helps me to avoid major injuries.

... And that's it! Don't run too much. Make your runs count. Vary your terrain and workouts to spice things up. And give your body a rest when you need it.

Friday, October 23, 2015

Grindstone 100 Race Report

For my first substantive blog post, I'm jumping right into the thick of things with a 100 mile race report! I spent the last year training to dip my toes into the world of ultramarathons and the last 6 months exclusively devoted to preparing myself for my first 100 miler. And it wasn't just any 100, I went all in and chose Grindstone, with it's +23,200'/-23,200' elevation profile, for my first foray into hardcore ultramarathons.

Without further ado... my 2015 Grindstone 100 Race Report

Grindstone Elevation Profile

Grindstone is a beast of a race on single track and fire roads in the Washington and Jefferson National Forests along the border of Virginia and West Virginia. It takes place the first weekend in October. The race has been around since 2008 and is managed by Race Director Clark Zealand. The race has approximately ten substantial peaks and the average grade over the entire course is roughly 9%, with a handful of sections ratcheting up the inclines to 15 or 20%. The course is tough enough that it is a qualifying race for both Western States and Hardrock, something shared by only 7 or 8 other races across the country.

For 2015, a double whammy of storms hit the Mid-Atlantic in the days preceding the race. These storms ended up causing unprecedented 1,000 year floods (you read that right, 1,000 year floods) in South Carolina. Up in Virginia, it wasn't nearly as bad, but there was flash flooding along the course and in the nearby town of Harrisonburg. And in the days before the race date, Hurricane Joaquin was threatening the region, too. Three days before the race was to take place, I had finally come to accept the fact that I'd be spending my first 100 miler struggling through cold rain and sloppy trails. I rushed to order a pair of Altra Lone Peak Neoshell shoes in the hopes that they might make race day a bit more tolerable.

Then, only two days out from the race, runners got an email from Clark letting us know the Forest Service was pulling the race permit due to the flash flooding concerns. I spent the weekend in a panic. I'd devoted an entire year preparing for this race. I didn't want all of that training to go to waste. I felt like I had perfectly peaked in my training, knocking out 30, 33, and 37 mile runs with ease in the span of two weeks. And I was nearly three weeks into my taper ... could I survive another week or two of the taper crazies?! I went back and forth for days about signing up for another 100 the next weekend -- Oil Creek in Pennsylvania -- or the Javelina Jundred outside Phoenix at the end of October. In the end, I had spent so much time planning for and psyching myself up for Grindstone that I decided to stick it out and see if Clark could pull off a miracle and get the race rescheduled. And ... in less than a week Clark and his hoard of volunteers were able to get the race rescheduled and reorganized for the following weekend. I was elated. The only downside: my brother-in-law (former collegiate runner, Marine Corps officer) would no longer be able to come in town and pace me the final third of the race. I'd be running the entirety of my first 100 miler alone in the woods, not exactly what I had been envisioning or planning for these past couple of months. Oh well, such is life.

My wife and I drove down to the race start at Camp Shenandoah, a Boy Scout camp outside of Staunton, VA, Friday morning. We set up our tent, got some catered food, I picked up my race packet, and we listened to the pre-race debrief. Then we had some time to kill before the 6pm start so I tried to relax and take a nap. An hour before the start I began to get ready, gathering up my gear, slipping on my trusty Altra Superiors, etc. Then I headed down to the race start and did my best to shake out the butterflies and nerves.

My race strategy was to take it slow and easy for the first half of the race, and try to save my quads as much as possible for the last 30 miles, hoping to finish in around 27 hours. So at the starting line I tucked in towards the back half of the 160 or so runners who were able to make the rescheduled race date (out of 260 original entrants). The race started simply enough, but around 1/4 mile into the race was a choke point that I didn't know about. Runners had to go single-file down and back up a small dam at the end of a pond, so my choice to sit towards the back of the pack early translated into me standing around for nearly 4 minutes at the beginning of the race. Next year I won't make that mistake. Lesson learned!

The next few miles had a mixture of easy trails and rocky, technical sections ... nothing unexpected. But somewhere around 6:30pm, the rain started. I knew there was going to be some rain, but it was forecast as occasional showers. This stuff was much more than occasional showers. Before the race, seeing that there wasn't supposed to be too much rain, I reorganized my drop bags at the last minute. As a result, I couldn't remember if my heavy rain jacket was in my Dowells Draft drop bag at 22 miles or my North River Gap drop bag at 37 miles. All I had in my hydration pack was a Patagonia Houdini windbreaker. I had never tested it in strong rains, but I had heard that it can get saturated rather easily in downpours. So, I ended up running through the rain for over an hour before I finally threw on my Houdini when I hit the exposed access road up Elliot Knob. I was holding off using the jacket as long as possible in the hopes that the rain would die down and lessen the chance of the jacket getting saturated early on. That was an easy hour physically, but mentally I was trying to prepare for 6 - 8 hours of running soaking wet in 40 degree temps before I could get to my legit rain jacket in one of those first two drop bags. Early in the race was a mental low point for me, and I wasn't even getting started.

I had gone on a training run a couple months earlier that covered miles 5 through 20 of the race, so I was familiar with Elliot Knob. It gets steep, quickly. The sun had already set when I popped out onto the access road and all ahead of me were beams of light bouncing in the darkness. Hiking up Elliot Knob in the dark was a bit of a gift -- I was to the top before I even realized it, and while I heard a couple fellow runners complain about how long of a climb it was, I joked that it felt much shorter and easier than I had expected. Coming back down Elliot Knob, I turned onto single track that would dominate the rest of the race. I quickly got caught behind a train of runners and spent what felt like an eternity "running" downhill at a pedestrian pace. After a couple miles I was able to get around them, and I rolled into Dry Branch Gap aid station at mile 15 somewhat unexpectedly, surprised at how easy the first portion of the race had felt. I made a point not to dilly-dally and grabbed some PBJ for the road. I saw Clark at the aid station, made a point to shake his hand and thank him for all of his hard work, and then I was off.

The next 22 miles through Dowells Draft and into North River Gap were a bit of a blur. I had covered the first half of this stretch in a training run, so I was comfortable pushing the pace and careening downhill into Dowells Draft. At around mile 18, anticipated stomach pains finally set in, which became a recurring theme throughout the race. So I jumped off trail for a few minutes to take care of some business -- Important Lesson: Always Carry TP, just in case! Running through Dowells Draft I picked up some more PBJs and decided there wasn't anything in my drop bag I really needed, so I was in and out in under a minute. I next climbed up to party central -- the Lookout Mountain aid station, managed by Andy Jones-Wilkins (thousand-time Western States finisher). I had a mind to spend a few minutes there to say hello ... I don't know him personally but I had a chance to chat with him for a while over a beer at his aid station during my Jarmans run in August and he's a really solid dude. Instead, I swiped some bananas or some such, and took off into the night, minimizing my idle time at aid stations. At some point along the way, the rain stopped, which was a welcomed relief. I soon cruised into North River Gap at mile 37 having passed roughly 20 runners along the way and making great time. I spent a few minutes with my drop bag, swapping out my soft flasks, having a volunteer fill up my water bladder (Thanks, anonymous volunteer!), and sending a text to my wife for when to expect me at the turnaround point. After what felt like an eternity downing orange slices like I was an 8 year old at halftime in a soccer game, I gathered up a few PBJ quarters, a couple cheese quesadillas, and a waffle for the road. Ahead of me was one hell of a climb...

One of the longest and most difficult stretches of the race is the climb out of North River Gap. It's not technical or anything but it's roughly 3000' of soul-sucking climbing over 8 miles of trail ... all in the dark. I took it easy on my way up, trying to enjoy the hike, downing calories, and making sure I was preserving my legs as best as I could for the latter stages of the race. At one point I had to jump off the trail to do some business again, but for the most part it was a surprisingly enjoyable stretch of trail. Looking back, I took this section a bit too easy and should've pushed the pace a little bit more. That said, my legs felt fresh and you're doing something right if you can run/hike for nearly 11 hours and say that. One trick I had been employing to not overdo it was to set my headlamp to its lowest setting. It's not a huge difference, but it makes me instinctively shorten my stride a couple of inches so my pace slows down to something more comfortable and maintainable.

After the nearly 3 hour climb and a quick stop off at the Little Bald Knob aid station -- complete with bonfire! -- I entered the easier phase of the race. Between miles 45 and 58, there are a lot of fire roads / double track and none of the climbs/descents are more than 1,000'. I was feeling good and my pace picked up accordingly. At one point some extreme fog rolled in and I couldn't see the ground more than a foot or two in front of me, my headlamp just illuminated an impenetrable cloud of whitish grey. For a period of time I had to shorten my stride and take it easy because the visibility was so bad, even though the trail wasn't too technical. For the periods that the fog would break, I kept looking ahead, waiting to see the race leader run by. As time wore on it started setting in all the more that I was in a position to have a great race. I was running along at a pace almost perfectly in line with my best case plans, setting myself up for a finishing time near 24 hours and nearly 3 hours below what I had expected. I was probably into mile 47 of the race before the first place runner passed by me, meaning I was around 2 hours off the lead pace. Near mile 49 I came upon the Reddish Knob aid station, had a quick snack, and then proceeded up to the top of Reddish Knob, on the lookout for the bib punch at the top. On the way up that short half-mile stretch, my headlamp started flashing so I proceeded to swap out the battery in the darkness. I highly recommend you practice this skill before every race. When I got to the top I couldn't find the punch for the life of me, and I spent a good 2 minutes searching with another runner before we found it. I punched my bib and took off. Next stop, the half-way point!

As I neared the turnaround point I came across the crew access location, quickly spotted my wife, and told her I'd stop for a few minutes on the return section. Then I ran the extra mile or so to the turnaround point and came right back. When I stopped to swap out some gear, I officially passed all markers for longest run in my life: I had never run farther than 52 miles, I had never run longer than 12:24 (my Grand Canyon Rim-Rim-Rim time from earlier in the year), and I had never covered more than 12,000' of elevation gain before. I was right on pace for a 24 hour finish, which was blowing my mind considering how difficult Grindstone is and that it was my very first 100. And even better, I felt amazing. I had the beginnings of some armpit chafing, so I swapped out my race shirt with another one, and I think I decided to slip on some trail gaiters here (or at North River Gap at mile 66 ... it's a bit of a blur!). I grabbed a couple Huma gel packs, but never ended up using them, and I decided I had no need for my trusty Snickers bars at this stage of the race, so I left those with my wife. After around 7 minutes, I gave my wife a hug and kiss, thanked her for driving 90 minutes in the middle of the night through dense fog just to hand me a shirt, and let her know when to expect me at the next crew access point -- North River Gap at mile 66. And then I was off and ready to start pushing myself.

After the turnaround, since I was feeling like a million bucks, I decided I was going to pick up the pace and tear ass down into North River Gap and hopefully make up enough time to ensure a 24 hour finish. The moment sub-24 seemed unlikely, I promised myself I'd bring the pace back down because the primary goal was always to simply finish, regardless of time. I'd rather play tortoise than bomb my quads trying to be the hare. Uphills are my weakness -- I blame my short stride -- but from this point on, there was more downhill to the race than uphill, so I was excited and ready to push it a bit more. I thought I'd have it easy on my way back to Little Bald Knob at mile 58, just before the long 8 mile descent into North River Gap. However, I had been feeling so good on my outbound section that I totally overlooked what would be a climb up from the turnaround area. My pace quickly sputtered on that short uphill section and it felt like everyone and their mother was passing me. I wasn't feeling bad or anything, I just happened to be slower uphill than everyone else. After that poor showing, things improved. I blew through the Reddish Knob aid station and head back to Little Bald Knob. By that point, the sun was rising and it was my hope that I wouldn't have to use my headlamp again.

I don't remember much about Little Bald Knob at mile 58 of the return trip. I think I picked up some PBJs but I don't really know. All I remember for sure is that their bonfire looked cozy but I couldn't stop because I was on a mission. I had picked off a few more runners and thought I might have cracked the top 20. On my 8 mile downhill assault I picked up a half dozen more places. I don't recall much about this section of the race. It took me roughly 4:30 to get from North River Gap to the turnaround point, but only 3:20 to cover that ground on the return trip, thanks to the 3000' downhill section. After the race, looking at the results I saw that my pace on this section was roughly the same as the Top 5 finishers. At some point along the way my stomach acted up again and for the third time in the race I had to jump off the trail and tend to some business. I careened into North River Gap with 15:32 on the watch.

For my pre-race planning I had conservatively projected it'd take me 10-11 hours to get from North River Gap to the finish, but I was feeling a lot better than I had expected -- my legs felt strong and I was in good spirits. If I kept up the pace I thought I could finish in under 9 hours and still have a chance at sub-24. I spent a good 7 minutes at the aid station with my wife. She was a bit concerned because, as she said, I came into the aid station "white as a ghost". I think I had just been running really fast, downhill, in the cold. My stomach had begun to feel a bit out of sorts, but for the most part I brushed the comment aside. I swapped out my empty soft flasks and refilled my water bladder. I also downed about a dozen orange slices and had a bit more solid food. And then I was off to the races.

...Only, not so much ...

North River Gap aid station sits at the bottom of a valley so the next phase of the race, to Dowells Draft nearly 15 miles away, started off with another 8 miles of climbing. Less than a half hour out from North River Gap, my stomach went south for the fourth time. I started to feel queasy, hungry and not hungry at the same time, cold, and devoid of energy. A few miles earlier when my stomach was acting up on the descent into North River Gap, I was afraid something like this might happen. My uphill pace slowed and I did everything I could to conserve energy. If I could just get to the top of Elliot Knob at mile 91 -- nearly 23 miles and 3 substantial climbs away -- I'd be able to tumble the final 10 miles down to the finish since I'd done such a good job of saving my quads. 23 more miles ... just 23 more miles ...

As I approached Lookout Mountain aid station (which is a terrible name for an aid station because it's only half-way up the damn mountain!), I was getting passed left and right. My liquid intake screeched to a halt because I didn't want to increase my chances of another stomach attack. I needed solids in my system, pronto! In hindsight and with some research, that was a terrible decision. One of the indicators of dehydration is an upset stomach and diarrhea. I should have increased my water intake, not cut it off. At any rate, I felt like I practically stumbled into Lookout Mountain, and the volunteers there were a godsend. I explained my problems and I was offered up a salted avocado half, along with a thing of ClifBlocks and some other snacks. On my way out, I asked for a hamburger bun to-go and a handful of paper towels (I was running low on TP and was preparing for the worst!). I tried my hardest to cram that hamburger bun down my throat as I continued up the mountainside. It took nearly 30 minutes of alternating between a bite of bun and a swig of water before I got the whole thing down. Thankfully, it settled my stomach a bit. The only problem was I was finding it increasingly harder to take in calories and water and I started to fear that this race could turn south quickly.

After I summited Who-The-Hell-Cares Mountain, I had a nice 4 mile downhill into Dowells Draft at mile 80. My stomach was feeling better and the increased pace of the downhill lifted my spirits. I got into the aid station at roughly 19 hours. I had 5 hours to complete just under 22 miles. It was going to be a tall order with 2 more substantial climbs ahead of me, but I thought I still had a shot. The one thing that gave me confidence was the fact that I'd seen nearly all of the remaining trail up to Elliot Knob in my August training run -- I knew which sections were easy and which were more difficult and technical. That's a heck of a nice thing to have in your back pocket when you're running on fumes. Any little thing you can use to keep you motivated and upbeat helps.

On my way out of Dowells Draft, I filled up a grab bag with some cheez-its and mini pretzels, and then handed off some spare KT-tape to a runner I had been yo-yo-ing in front of and behind over the past few hours. In the midst of that hand-off, I left my grab bag of dense bread-y snacks on the aid station table. I only realized what I had done after 100 yards or so and I had a brief moment of panic -- do I leave it behind or do I run back and grab it?! I really, really needed some solid foods to keep my stomach in check, so I jogged back to retrieve my bag of goodies, and then off I went.

I knew the first couple of miles out of Dowells Draft would be relatively flat, so I was looking to string out some faster miles before hitting the second to last climb of the day. I got caught behind a couple runners and their pacers early on, and wasn't able to get around because the single track was along a slope and there were no flat-ish sections to jump ahead. Eventually I got around and took off. ... Then ... the climbing started. My pace slowed immediately and I could feel that my legs were getting tired. I tried eating some of the cheez-its and pretzels but my appetite was non-existent. I was able to get down a couple of ClifBlocks and that's about it. There were uphill sections that were easy enough I probably could have alternated running and hiking, but the idea of pushing into an uphill jog for even 100 meters was too much for me at this point in the race. After climbing the 1700' or so at a snail's pace, I had a couple miles of downhill into Dry Branch Gap at mile 88. At the start of the downhill I was surprised that my quads felt tight -- they weren't locking up but they certainly felt fatigued -- and my speed wasn't quite what I had hoped for. I also had to pull off the trail for the last time to tend to some business, which frustrated the hell out of me because it was precious minutes being wasted and I was oh so close to sub-24. As I neared Dry Branch Gap my stride opened up and I was psyching myself up, thinking I really did have a good shot at getting to the finish before 6pm. I coasted into the aid station, saw my wife, told her I was feeling good and didn't need anything, and that I'd see her at the finish. I checked my watch and saw I needed to cover roughly 14 miles in exactly 3 hours. It'd be a tall task, but nearly all of the final 10 miles was downhill, so it seemed doable.

... And right out of the gun, the final uphill began. 4 miles and more than 1500' of climbing to go. My energy immediately left me. My pace went to a glorified crawl. I had a 2 mile stretch that took nearly 50 minutes. And then I knew that sub-24 wasn't going to happen. So I kept at it, but saved my energy for the long downhill section to come. Probably the most annoying part of the race is right around mile 91 or so. The climbing gives way to relatively flat ground, so you think you've got to be nearing the left turn off the single track and onto the Elliot Knob access road. But you just keep skirting the side of the mountain for what feels like ages. Finally, I got to the access road. It took me 90 minutes to climb just over 4 miles. Ouch!

I took a minute to stretch out my quads before bombing down the 15-20% grade. Even though I had tried to save my quads, they just weren't cooperating. I was quickly passed by what would be the second overall female and her pacer. That was demoralizing. I had been building up this whole race to be a 90 mile run with a strong downhill finish. Instead, I eased down the hillside, pain shooting through my quads and left shin with every stride. By the time I got off the access road and back on to single track, the two women were long gone. But I pressed on and tried pushing the pace as best as I could now that the downhill grade was more manageable. Thankfully, my stride opened up and my quads loosened. I came upon a few creek crossings and didn't have the desire to tip-toe over rocks, so I jumped in, up to my waist at times, and just pushed through. The cold water provided a jolt of energy, quickly followed by chills each time.

As I neared the final aid station, Falls Hollow about 5 miles from the finish, I saw the second place female just off in the distance and tried to use her as a rabbit, running the slightly downhill section faster than I'd ran all day. I hit Falls Hollow in 23:13. It'd take a 9:00 pace to close out the race to get under 24 hours -- practically impossible, but I decided to give it a go. I blew through the aid station at full speed, shouting out my bib number as I flew by. As the final miles ticked by, I came across a couple of uphills that slowed me down, needing to walk a couple strides here and there. But for the most part, I pushed the pace as hard as my legs would allow. Luckily, my legs were feeling great again. After some time of pushing a pace I hadn't hit in the first 97+ miles, I started hoping for the finish line, wondering where on earth it could be. After another couple of creek crossings and some more technical sections, I crested a hill and saw the pond and the finish line in the distance. My watch had ticked past 24:00:00, but I kept up the pace anyways. I came into the final stretch feeling strong, with a full stride. My last mile was close to 8 flat.

I crossed in 24:10:55, with 16th place overall. I really wish I hadn't slowed down so much on the final climbs or had the stomach issues that cost me precious minutes. Moreover, my legs felt so good the last 75 minutes of the race that I wish I had pushed it a little harder earlier on in the race. The thing about ultras is that there are so many ways to dissect your effort and find a couple minutes here and there that you think you could improve upon. End the end though, I crossed the finish line of my first 100 feeling strong, proud of my overall effort and achievement, and with a finishing time better than anything I could have hoped for.

In the days after the race, I've taken it easy, making sure to baby a little bit of tendonitis near my left ankle. My muscles have been surprisingly quick to recover. And while I'm happy to be taking it easy, lazily lounging on the couch and watching postseason baseball, I can't wait to get back into training mode soon, hit up some trails, and look towards a couple more 100 milers next season. I'm hooked!