Grindstone Runners and the Blustery Race

The rain rain rain came down down down in rushing, rising riv'lets ...

(Runners at the 2016 Grindstone 100 -- Disney)

In the days leading up to Grindstone, I went back and forth on handhelds or a vest. I prefer handhelds, but was afraid I wouldn't have enough storage for my nutrition, spare headlamp battery, and Houdini jacket. So I settled on my vest. Despite the added weight, I'd have the advantage of having my hands free to power climb with hands-on-quads. Why does any of this matter? Well, because I wanted to set the stage for my ridiculous attempt at seeing if my rain jacket would fit over my vest:

(My Michelle Jenneke moment?)

Now that we've got that ridiculousness out of the way, let's get into the race report.

Background

I came into Grindstone equally confident and terrified.

I completed it last year for my first Hundo. I reconned over 60 miles of the course 3 weeks prior. I'd raced well all Spring and early Summer. Anything less than a Top 10 would be a major letdown.

On the other hand...

7 weeks prior I DNF'd Eastern States 100 because of hip pain. I'd spent the last 6 weeks solely devoted to physical therapy -- 1 to 3 hours of stretching and strength work every single day. 3 weeks before the race, I tested out my hip with back-to-back 6 hour runs on the course and everything felt good. But a few days later the hip pain returned. I shut down running completely, betting entirely on physical therapy. The pain only fully subsided in the week leading up to Grindstone. I was just hoping my endurance hadn't deteriorate too much.

So ... that's how the race started ... feeling like a good day would translate into a stellar performance and yet still fearful that hip problems would lead me to hobble for hours on end towards a depressing finish.

As for the race day conditions, it looked like Hurricane Matthew, which was rolling up Florida and the Carolinas, would be forcing a separate storm cell to get stuck in position right over the race course. The Forecast: 60 degrees and Rain, Rain, Rain beginning just as the race started ... and it wasn't expected to taper off for nearly 24 hours.

Oh, and when I checked in before the race I was surprised to find out I was seeded 4th. Somebody was clearly having fun at my expense!

Nutrition Plan

My Nutrition Plan has stabilized over the past year. I dialed into something that really worked at Western States. I kept the plan the same as for Western States -- 250 calories per hour, 100 from an hourly Huma gel and the rest from EFS Liquid Shot and Tailwind. I would dial back my hydration to around 3.5oz per mile instead of the 4+ from Western States.

I planned to start with a whopping 1,700 calories so my wife wouldn't need to meet me until North River Gap (TWOT lot) at Mile 37. Then, I planned on restocking with an appropriate amount of nutrition again at the Turn Around (Briery Branch) Mile 51, North River Gap at Mile 65, Dowell's Draft at Mile 80, and Dry Branch Gap at Mile 87. I'd come in, swap out my 2 bottles, restock on Huma gels, and head back out. Simple and easy!

The Race

I'm an extreme overplanner when it comes to races. I have spreadsheets and formulas to determine appropriate race pace, nutrition, hydration, etc. Since my hip was a bit of a question mark, I vastly simplified my planning. I came up with a crude plan for a 20:40 finishing time, complete with intermediary crew meetup times. I knew that the weather could slow my pace a bit, and my hip was a major wildcard, but I thought that was a legit time goal for ideal conditions. I just left it at that and figured I'd roll with the punches on race day.

Pre-Race

-0:45

Awkward foam rolling in the back of the SUV and even more awkward pigeon stretch.

Am I the only ultra runner out here stretching? I feel like such a noob.

-0:15

Routine hip mobility exercises ... doctors orders!

Again, I feel like a roadie who walked up to the wrong starting line.

-0:05

Chat up some running buddies at the starting line. Set myself up right at the front.

Start to Dowell's Draft

0:00

The gun goes off. No adrenaline rush like last year. I've done this before, no big deal!

Get in the front. You need to avoid the dam bottleneck 1/4 mile into the race.

0:05 (Mile 0.5)

I quickly pair up with John Andersen and Aaron Saft. John and I ran a few races together this Spring and seem to be nearly identical in terms of fitness; he's joked that I've become his new "Nemesis". At the end of the day, one of us would have bragging rights, but for now it made sense to stick together. As for Aaron, he's an otherworldly runner who was a solid 40+ minutes ahead in the Beast Series standings. Despite it being his first 100, only a miracle (or an insidious trip) would have me finishing ahead of him today.  We three, and some others, run in a pack over the early miles.

0:50 (Mile 5) -- Falls Hollow Aid Station

Easy 5 mile warmup! Falls Hollow is a useless aid station ... should I stop? No, keep going.

1:30 (Mile 8)

Deep into the 4+ mile, 2,000' climb up Elliot's Knob.     It's getting steep: 20% grade.     Hiking feels good, not too laborious.

Rain is picking up, better throw on my jacket.

2:10 (Mile 12)

Stupid Altra insoles! I love these new Lone Peaks, but I really should've glued the insoles down before the race. They're waterlogging and sliding around, folding over in the front and putting strain on my toes.

I'm gonna have some fugly toenails when this day is done.

I vocalize my frustration. John chides me for my pre-race oversight.

SPOILER ALERT: This is what my piggies looked like after the race ... I don't think toenails are supposed to be that color!

(Ultra runner toes / Altra insole toes ... yuck!)

2:20 (Mile 13)

That jerk Aaron Saft nefariously distracts me with talk of life and family. I lose focus.

CRASH!

I bite it on the slick, unstable rocks that pepper the trail. Blood runs down my arm, but nothing is broken. More importantly, I didn't fall onto the bad hip.

2:37 (Mile 14) -- Dry Branch Gap Aid Station

Our group is hovering around the Top 10. There's about 7 of us that roll through together. Aaron is clearly taking it easy, and I'm sure there's a couple overeager runners up ahead.

What was my split supposed to be? I think I'm making good time. Nevermind. Doesn't matter.

What?! I have to wait in line to fill up my bottles with water?! THIS. IS. THE. WORST!

2:50 (Mile 16)

We proceed up the Crawford climb with a mostly manageable pace. John tries counting off the 5 false summits along the way, but I can't make heads or tails of any of them.

3:13 (Mile 17)

We crest Crawford and start our second major descent. These damn insoles better not get in my way!

3:30 (Mile 19)

Stomach is feeling a bit off. I pull off to scratch in the woods.

Last year I spent way too much time going to the bathroom. I sure hope my stomach settles today.

That Imodium better kick in soon...

3:45 (Mile 20)

After a mad dash at an unsustainable clip, I catch back up with John and Aaron. That was too fast ... might have been a bad idea! It's probably better to catch back up than be stranded on my own.

3:50 (Mile 21)

We cross HWY 250 and come across Caleb Denton -- Golden Ticket winner at Georgia Death Race this year.

... Both he and Aaron will be running it next year. After my respectable showing at States, I made the rash decision to sign up as well. Running with both of them here at Grindstone could be a glimpse into the suffering I might expect if I'm to compete for a Golden Ticket next year. SPOILER ALERT: Don't put your money on me!

Caleb is battling a bum hip from getting checked by a car earlier in the week. Despite all that, he looks like a friggin gazelle bounding up the climbs.

We all put in an honest effort in the mile-plus stretch from HWY 250 to Dowell's Draft.

This section isn't nearly as flat as the blip on the elevation profile suggests. The first hint of fatigue is setting in...

4:02 (Mile 22) -- Dowell's Draft Aid Station

As our remaining group of 4 rolls in, everyone but me peels off to their crew just before the Aid Station tent. I've got a new bag of Tailwind ready and I throw it in my bottle, top everything off, and head on out.

Clark, the RD, is there and shouts, "Hey, looks like you've moved up a lot!" I respond with a joking, "I wish! Everyone else is right over there."

I'm feeling good. I'm a few minutes up on my planned pace. The race is about ready to start sorting itself out!

Dowell's Draft to North River Gap

4:20 (Mile 23)

John, Aaron, Caleb, and I regather our little posse and begin the climb up Hankey Mountain. After a couple of miles I start to feel the strain of keeping up with the top dogs. I happily let Aaron and Caleb effortlessly bound up the mountain. It's just me and John now.

4:22 (Mile 23)

John and I have a bit of a pity party after the posse breaks up. We were running slightly out of our comfort zone to stick with the others and now, over 4 hours into the race, we're close to paying the price for it. Why'd we try to keep up with those guys for so long?! What a rookie move!

We meander up the mountain, taking it easy and regaining our composure.

I suddenly notice how soaking wet I am.

5:00 (Mile 27)

Ugh! My mouth is SOOOO SALTY! I'd kill for some water right now! Why do I have to run with 2 mixed bottles?! WHYYYY!

5:34 (Mile 30) -- Lookout Mountain Aid Station

Despite the rain, we make good time on the climb up Hankey and the descent into the Lookout Mountain AS, managed by Charlottesville folks.

I bump into Bob Clouston and shine my headlamp right into his eyes like a total jerk.

Water! Oh my god, it's water! I squat down under the water jug spigot and take in a few big gulps. Salty mouth is vanquished!

6:10 (Mile 33)

The miles are ticking by effortlessly.

6:35 (Mile 35)

I almost detour on a spur trail, but John knows what's up. We just passed a lookout spot near the TWOT Lot ... The beginning phase of the race is coming to an end.

"Hey John, I remember this from my training run! It's only a mile to North River Gap ... Or maybe a mile and a half ... Something like that ... I remember because on my training run I got out here and had to turn around cuz I forgot to lock my car and I ran a mile and a half before turning around ... Wait, did I turn around right here or somewhere else? ... You know what, No, I don't remember ... I'll shut up now. Good story though, right?!"

6:47 (Mile 37) -- North River Gap Aid Station

We cross the bridge and cruise along the flat section of trail before hopping onto the FR95 blacktop and strolling into the TWOT Lot.

I'm damn close to my projected arrival time!

My wife swaps out my bottles and helps me restock my gels. My focus is sidetracked when I decide I want some water. My wife's bottle is nearly empty. Despite there being literal jugs of water in the back of the SUV I head to the Aid Station tables, hoping to use my wife's bottle as a cup. Why must both of my bottles be mixed?! She trails along but without the bottle -- cuz, you know, I never told her to bring the damn bottle. Grindstone is supposed to be cupless, so a moment of panic ensues. I really, really want a swig of something without sodium! Luckily, there's a couple cups of ginger ale out, so I down two and head out.

Crap! I forgot to say goodbye to my wife ... oh well, I'm sure she'll understand!

... And whaddya know, despite swapping out shoes, John has magically managed to hit the trail before me. What the heck?!

Okay ... One third of the race down! Now it's time to climb!

North River Gap to Briery Branch

7:40 (Mile 40)

John and I are well into our assault on the 7mile and nearly 3,000' climb up Chestnut Ridge to Little Bald Knob. We hike anything remotely steep.

I'm itching to jog a bit more on the steep parts, but my body is welcoming the modest pace.

8:00 (Mile 41)

John: "This one time ... at Bighorn ..."

Chris: "This one time ... at States ..."

8:20 (Mile 42)

A headlamp comes careening down the mountain towards us.

NO WAY! There is NO WAY that's First Place! No. No. No No No!

The runner stops. It's Andrew Simpson. He seems a bit confused. We decide he got turned around at a clearing a couple hundred yards up ahead and unknowingly made a U-turn.

We stick with him up to the clearing to confirm, and then he bounds off into the distance.

8:50 (Mile 44)

The Summit! Finally!

I check my watch. The climb took about 2 hours even. 5 min slower than I'd hoped for, but the miles just felt so easy, especially when sharing them with a partner ... and it's hard to beat feeling refreshed after a 7 mile climb less than halfway into a race!

We're in the High Country now! 3 miles of smooth descent, 3 miles of climbing, and 2 miles of descent to the Turn Around ...

8:55 (Mile 44)

The rain becomes very noticeable. The single track of the TWOT Loop provided a good deal of coverage, but now there was a lot of exposure to the rain and occasional wind gusts.

John: "Where's the Aid Station?! It should be right here!"
Chris: "Nope! It's about a 20 minute jog past the summit. The course description says less than 8 from North River Gap, but it's really almost 9 miles! Isn't this fun?!"
John: "That's so stupid!"
Chris: "My training run clocked North River to North River right at 30 miles, but Clark says it's only 28! Hooray!"

9:13 (Mile 45)

We finally made it to the fabled Little Bald Knob Aid Station. We spot Andrew at the aid station.

I top off a bottle and get ready to head back out into the rain.

The bonfire looks warm and inviting! ... But I have work to do ...

9:18 (Mile 45)

After catching up with Andrew, he rapidly bounds ahead.

Chris: "What is he doing?!"

John: "I don't know. He keeps gapping us and then wasting time at aid stations!"

Chris: "There's no way he can maintain that. He'll wear out, it's only a matter of time."

10:10 (Mile 49)

After some smooth miles along the jeep trail and a couple miles of climbing, we're at Reddish Knob. We've been making okay time, but we're very much keeping our pace in check.

At the top we find a confused Andrew. He's been there a good number of minutes, exposed to the wind and rain in a t-shirt, searching for the bib punch. We all look quickly and then bolt back down the road.

Someone must've snagged the punch. Oh well, nothing you can do about it!

10:15 (Mile 50)

A headlamp! ... And another! The first few runners come trickling by as we make our way down the 2 mile blacktop descent to the Turn Around at Briery Branch Gap. The leaders are probably 45 minutes and 4 miles up on us.

It soon becomes apparent that we've missed 2 or 3 runners while we were up at Reddish Knob -- Aaron and Caleb were nowhere to be seen.

The rain is really picking up now. I'm wet. I'm cold. Am I really delusional enough to think this is fun?!

10:30 (Mile 51.5) -- Turn Around at Briery Branch Gap Aid Station

Taking it easy down the pavement, I finally roll into the Turn Around. I'm 15 minutes behind schedule now, but who cares! The last 30 miles felt like a breeze!

I trade in my shirt and rain jacket for a long sleeve and a new Houdini. I need some dry clothes for the return journey.

I complain about a cold, stiff knee so my wife hands me some Ibuprofin. I don't usually take pain killers but it's cold and I don't want to worry about my knee and my hip. I fumble the handoff and one plops into the mud. I reach down and pick it up anyway. Mmmm, muddy pain killers!

As I make my way out of the Aid Station, I pass a guy who bites it, slipping on the wet pavement. But he's alright. Again, somehow John makes it out of the Aid Station before me. I pride myself on efficient Aid Station visits, but this jerk is putting me to shame!

HALFWAY!

Briery Branch to North River Gap

11:03 (Mile 53)

We make it back up the 2 mile climb to Reddish Knob. We had passed Andrew again at the Aid Station, but he's long since bounded past us up the incline. Come on, Andrew, BONK! Don't let me down!

Last year, this section was a disaster for me. I got passed by so many people I lost count. It was embarrassing. It takes a couple minutes longer than I'da liked, but we hike up the whole thing comfortably.

John falls behind. His stomach has been off-and-on for most of the run together. I jokingly yell back that I'm not waiting for him, fully expecting him to connect back up in a few minutes. In reality, that was the last I saw of him all day.

11:20 (Mile 55)

I'm back on the jeep trail now. It's completely flooded. The tire ruts are streams and the berm in the middle is barely runnable at times ... and then there's the occasional 20' puddle. So this is what happens when it rains for 12 hours straight!

More runners start to flow past on their outbound journey. Some of them look miserable. And they all keep muddying up my jeep trail!

11:45 (Mile 57) -- Little Bald Knob Aid Station

I've meandered along the jeep track at a consistent pace. I find Andrew at the Aid Station and, again, leave ahead of him. Come on, Andrew, just BONK already! You're gonna implode, I just know it!

12:15 (Mile 59)

I reach the top of Little Bald. It's still dark out ... and raining. Andrew has passed me for good. It turns out I'll never see him again. He ends up gapping me by a whopping 40 minutes. I definitely called that one wrong! Congrats to him!

Last year I careened down (in the daylight) into North River Gap at an unsustainable pace. I thought I felt good the entire time, but I bonked immediately afterward. That wasn't going to happen this year. I easily descended in 70 minutes on my training run, I wanted to dial that back to 80 or 85 minutes right now.

Okay, 7 miles of descent! Take it easy! Don't be an idiot!

12:30 (Mile 60)

Damn it! I've really got to pee!

12:45 (Mile 61)

Damn it! I've really got to pee ... again!

13:00 (Mile 62)

I'm staying well within myself, just floating down. I keep running into back of the packers on their way up. Those poor souls! These guys are over 12 hours into the race and still have around 60 miles to go. A lot look like zombies. I have nothing but respect for the ones who were able to gut it out through that wet night ... and the next ... battling many more hours of rain and nighttime than I had to deal with. I honestly can't imagine how difficult that would be.

13:15 (Mile 63)

Damn it! Why do I have to pee every friggin mile now ?! This is wasting so much time!

13:37 (Mile 65)

Seriously?! The aid station is RIGHT THERE! Why am I stopping to pee again?! This is THE WORST!

(This goes on roughly every 15 minutes for the rest of the race ... apparently in the cold, wet conditions I wasn't sweating out nearly as much water as I had expected. And despite dialing back my liquid intake, I had drifted into a frustrating realm of always-full bladder. I literally stopped 30 times in the final 40 miles.)

13:39 (Mile 65) -- North River Gap Aid Station

I roll into the North River Gap Aid Station. I nailed my descent time, but I'm more than 30 minutes off my planned pace. Who cares! I'm having fun and feeling great!

I've had enough of the Lone Peak insoles, so I swap them out for Pearl Izumi N1s. I even swap out my Injinji socks. I don't want to cuz they'd just get wet again, but I overhear Horton saying some dry socks would feel good, so I change my mind. I'm afraid they'll be a time suck but I miraculously get them off and on in no-time. And boy oh boy do they feel wonderful.

I am told 2 guys are no more than 10 minutes ahead of me and that I'm in 7th place ... maybe. I head out hoping I can catch them, but not dead-set on pushing the pace.

As I leave, I hear John's wife, Michelle, yelling. John's rolling in, only a couple minutes behind me. And he's picking up a pacer (cheater!). Is this going to turn into a drag race?!

North River Gap to Dowell's Draft

14:00 (Mile 67)

Knowing John is hot on my tail sparks the competitive juices. I'm not usually all that competitive, but at the moment my thoughts aren't awesome, we'll all run together and have fun, hooray! They're more like, if that S.O.B. passes me, I'ma be pissed!

I try pushing the pace. I'm working hard for the first time in over 40 miles.

... And then ...

I start to feel my hip. Not hurting, not stabbing, not causing problems. I'm just ... aware of it. Whenever I try running uphill I notice the slightest hint of irritation.

Enough racing for me!

At this point I say screw it, and vow to not push the pace. I'll run within myself the rest of the way. No drag racing, no hard efforts, just calm and collected running.

Afterwards, I ran no more than a couple dozen strides on the inclines for the rest of the race.

Never-the-less, I still hear John and his pacer right behind me. So I happily push the power hiking ... and whaddya know ... absolutely no hip irritation!

15:04 (Mile 71) -- Lookout Mountain Aid Station

I've pushed the pace power hiking and just as I'm getting to the Lookout Mountain Aid Station, I pass a runner. Awesome!

At the Aid Station I refill my bottles. Then proceed to head out.

But before I do, Bob Clouston stops me in my tracks and reminds me its nearly 9 miles to the next aid station ... with another couple miles of climbing.

I nod. In my head I'm thinking: So what?! It's mostly downhill and it's only gonna take me 90 minutes. I'm good to go!

He presses the matter again.  Geez, Bob, get out of my face! I don't say that, but I feel like saying it.

Here's the thing, when it gets to the tougher sections of a long race, I tend to get a bit pale. I also just want to hurry through aid stations ... I'm only there to fill up with water, I carry all the nutrition I need. Right now, the endless hours of rain aren't helping matters. When Aid Station workers -- especially veteran ones -- see someone like me -- looking pale, nonresponsive, hurrying through -- red flags pop up. Bob was just making sure I was okay, and I did a terrible job of communicating that I was fully prepared to tackle the next section of the course. I need to do a better job of looking happy at Aid Stations ... and communicating. You know what, that probably applies to life in general, but I digress ...

15:50 (Mile 74)

This climb is taking FOREVER!

Last year this climb back up Hankey was utterly miserable. I'm feeling good now, just starting to get tired ... feeling a bit like I've been racing for nearly 75 miles ...

I want to run some of the climb, but I've made a promise to myself. Operation Protect The Hip is in full swing.

16:39 (Mile 80) -- Dowell's Draft Aid Station

After I got to the top of Hankey Mountain, I began a steady, smooth descent into Dowell's Draft. I don't push the pace because I'm more concerned with assessing how my hip handles these descents. Luckily, my quads are feeling great.

I roll into the aid station and pass another runner who is hobbling noticeably. I tell him to stay strong but I'm silently ecstatic.

I spot Michelle, who's still waiting for John. I tell her I have no idea how far back he is.

At the Aid Station, I'm informed I'm in 5th place. Fifth Place! Holy Cow! Don't screw this up, Chris, you're in Fifth Freakin Place!

My wife helps me restock supplies. Horton is there again and tells me I need to eat something. I protest. He doesn't care. He thinks I'm looking pale. My wife agrees.

I relent and begrudgingly grab a couple hot potato wedges. As I head out, I throw them in my mouth ... and ... they're delicious. That was just what I needed! ... But I'm not gonna tell them that!

On my way out I hear a Whoop! Whoop! Either an overeager volunteer was cheering me on, or John was just now rolling in. I panic and speed off down the trail.

Dowell's Draft to The Finish

17:10 (Mile 82)

I somehow survived the tricky section between Dowell's Draft and HWY 250, but now I feel like I'm running through a tar pit along the creek bottom just before the Crawford Mountain ascent. It's a mile or 2 of slightly uphill running. After so many hours of running, the incline is just enough to make me want to walk. ... But John's right behind me! (maybe) So I stumble on, doing everything I can to keep from walking.

17:30 (Mile 83)

I'm at the steep stuff now. Man, this is exhausting! I turn around every couple of minutes, expecting John to be right there, effortlessly bounding, ready to take my Top 5 away from me. I desperately want to run a little, but it's also steep, and I'm tired, and Operation Protect The Hip, and I'm tired, and it's steep ... It's soo steep, why is it so steep?! WHY?!

17:50 (Mile 84)

The Top! Finally!

18:21 (Mile 87) -- Dry Gap Aid Station

I cruise down the descent, again, not pushing it too hard. Don't race, just cruise! Stay within yourself. Don't screw up your hip again!

My wife greets me. Says I'm looking better. Horton says I've "bounced back!" Man, he really must've wanted to count me out back at Dowell's!

Off I go! Only one more climb!

Fifth! Fifth! Fifth!

19:00 (Mile 89)

This climb is taking FOREVER!

Why are all of these rocks so unstable?! Someone should really do something about this! This is dangerous!

I'm so tired!

I don't care if John catches me. Good for him. He'll get 5th, I'll get 6th. No big deal. That jerk Clark Zealand probably only gives awards out to the Top 3 anyway, so it's not like 5th place even matters!

I'm not competitive, I'm not here to race, I just want to finish and keep my hip safe. I'm gonna get caught. I'm gonna get caught ... Seriously, why haven't I been caught yet?! Just pass me already!

19:30 (Mile 91)

This section is THE. WORST.

After climbing up Elliot's, you get to a relatively flat, but slightly uphill, section. It wraps around the edge of the mountain for at least a mile. And it's strewn with rocks. It sucks. It goes on forever. FOREVER! And whaddya know, it's even worse this year because the whole damn thing has been transformed into a flowing stream.

Why do I run? What's the point of all of this?!

19:41 (Mile 92)

Finally!

I get to the dirt road on Elliot's. Four miles of sweet, sweet downhills await!

I take off. Quads are feeling good!

19:53 (Mile 94)

I turn off of the steep road and onto single track. Man that was steep! But it felt waay better than last year!

I check my watch. It took me 12 minutes to cover those steep 1.75 downhill miles. What pace is that? ... Nevermind, too tired to do math ... Just keep falling down the mountain!

20:19 (Mile 96) -- Falls Hollow Aid Station

No time to stop now! Almost there! I bet John's right behind me.

This Aid Station is useless ...

21:00 (Mile 99)

If the section that skirts the top of Elliot's Knob at Mile 90 is the worst, this section near the Boy Scout Camp is runner-up.

Why are there so many hills?! I don't remember any of this!!!

Seriously, where the hell is the lake? Where is the Mile To Go marker? Where am I?

Please, please, please, don't let anyone pass me.

I'm running much easier than last year -- when I desperately tried (and failed) to get in under 24 hours. Now though, this doesn't feel so bad. ... If only I weren't so tired ...

21:15 (Mile 101)

I get to the lake. I turn around about a dozen times, expecting someone to be right behind me. No one there.

Okay. I'm done. Fifth Place!

21:19:56 (Mile 101.85)

I cross the finish line. Feeling strong. But also tired. ... And cold ... And wet. Seriously, I'm really cold and wet right now!

Fifth Place! That feels incredible!

(Too tired to hug the Totem Pole. Off camera: Horton entirely too entertained by my exhaustion.)

Afterward

So yeah, that pretty much covers it!

I went out there, had a blast in the rain, kept my hip in check, and miracled my way to a Top 5 finish. Andrew ended up 40 minutes ahead of me, and John ended up roughly 45 minutes behind me, so it's good to know that even if I'd pushed the pace or if I'd bonked, I would've likely ended up in 5th no matter what. I played it safe and Operation Protect The Hip was a success.

My second Grindstone was incredible! My strong showing is all the more meaningful given the lousy months I had after Western States trying to sort out my bum hip. But now, it looks like everything is healed and ready for the rest of the Beast Series. I still plan on taking it easy throughout the rest of the year, focusing mostly on recovery, stretching, and hiking. I just cannot afford to aggravate my hip again.

Did I mention I got 5th?! Seriously, how the hell did that happen? Also, turns out Clark isn't a total tightwad and does give out awards to the Top 5 ... more swag!

(Courtesy of Clark Zealand)

Thanks

I've got to give a shout out to my amazing wife for crewing me in downright miserable conditions. She was a trooper! I'm so lucky to have her supporting me through this ridiculous hobby of mine, through the training, and the racing, and the injury, and the complaining.

Thanks to my mother for flying in and watching the kiddo while her daddy abandoned her to go traipsing through the wilderness in the rain for an entire day.

Thanks to Clark Zealand for putting on yet another fantastic Grindstone. And a huge thanks to all of the volunteers who suffered through the rain alongside all of us runners.

Thanks to David Horton for randomly appearing at all of the Aid Stations and offering up support and sage advice ... even if it's generally laced with wit, sass, and sarcasm!

And finally, Thanks to all of you back-of-the-packers. I'm not gonna sugar coat it, you guys looked miserable out there! Watching the final handful of finishers Sunday morning, after 2 nights of traversing that difficult course, was so inspiring. I bow down to your dedication!

Epilogue

1 Hour After Race

This shower is soooo amazing. I'm never leaving, ever!

Oh my god! My toenails are hideous! Ten bucks says I loose seven of them.

4 Hours After Race

I'm in my hotel room. It's 7pm, and ... yup ... there goes my ability to regulate my body heat! Hooray!

Thankfully my wife made us get a hotel room. A great call considering I'd forgotten how miserable I was last year -- shivering and shaking for hours on end, my wife piling blankets on me in the tent to no effect.

Do I have the flu? I'm getting sick ... do I even have an immune system right now?

Why do I do this to myself? Is this worth it?

7 Hours After Race

I've been struggling to sleep because my big toenails are throbbing. I curse you, Altra insoles! ... Also, the rocks, I curse the rocks!

I have to pee. But I'm not sure I can get out of bed. Is this what it feels like to be 90?

2 Days After Race

I head to the National Arboretum with the family on a beautiful day. I "chase" my 2 year old around for a couple of minutes. I contemplating documenting that herculean effort on Strava.

Sleep! Sleep! Sleep! I need more sleep!

3 Days After Race

I just walked down a flight of stairs without having to hold onto a railing ... it's the little things in life!

4 Days After Race

I just jogged down 2 flights of stairs. I am superman!

I can't wait to run another 100 Miler!

5 Days After Race

Legs don't really hurt doing basic daily activities.

Physical Therapist is glad the hip held up. She gives me an easy hour of stretching and such. I try to balance on a Bosu ball. I get laughed at. We stick to the kind of workout an 80 year old invalid would do. When I get home, my body feels exhausted.

Gear List, Etc.

Shoes:

• Altra Lone Peak 3.0s -- would've been amazing if I had remembered to glue the damn insoles in
• Pearl Izumi Trail N1 V2s -- felt great but tight on pinky toes at end of race ... those nails are gonners!

Clothes:

• Patagonia shirt
• 2 Patagonia Houdini jackets
• Patagonia Strider Pro Shorts
• Injinji trail socks
• Salomon pack and Ultimate Direction bottles
• Petzl headlamp
• 2015 Grindstone Boco Trucker Hat (seriously, the best hat ever)

Nutrition:

• 20 Huma gels (2000 calories)
• 20 oz of EFS Liquid Shot (1700 calories)
• 1600 calories of Tailwind
• 12 oz ginger ale
• 2 delicious potato wedges

Fine

2016 Promise Land 50K Race Report

I could go running and racing and dancing and chasing ...

Now I'm not religious ... at all. But the notion of a Promised Land was not lost on me as I found my self traversing the Blue Ridge Mountains of David Horton's Promise Land 50K.

... oh, what's that? You're wondering, what the hell is Rapunzel doing in this race report?! Well, I could opine about how the lyrics to the song When Will My Life Begin in the 2010 Disney instant classic Tangled embody the pure joy I feel when I'm traversing mountain single-track.  But, really, this obnoxious song just so happened to be THE song stuck in my head during Promise Land (for those interested, Winnie the Pooh's The Rain Rain Rain Came Down Down Down drove me crazy for the 7+ hours of Bull Run). Why? How? Well, I've got a 2 year old daughter. That should be explanation enough.  It's better than Let It Go, I suppose.


... Anyways ...


The first third of the race is mostly uphill as you make your way from roughly 1300' to just over 4000'. Then there's a good number of miles of pummeling downhill on steep single track and even a bit of road, flinging you headfirst into The Dark Side of the race. As you make your way to roughly the Marathon mark, you just hope and pray you've saved your legs enough for the brutal 3+ mile and 2000' climb AND the swift final 4 miles that sends you careening to the finish 2200' below. If you've trained right, if you bided your time in the first half of the race, you'll be rewarded with strong legs for the final climb and a swift stride down to the finish line at Promise Land Camp. If not, well, then it just wasn't your day!

Here's the obligatory Keith Knipling elevation profile:

Personally, this race was also an affirmation of my acceptance into the Promised Land of Ultrarunning. My first ultramarathon was almost exactly one year ago -- The North Face DC 50 Miler last April. I went into that race under-trained and still trying to recover from a multi-month bout of PatellaFemoral Pain Syndrome (PFMS) ... who knew you couldn't rush from couch to Marathon to weekly 30 mile runs! I limped my way to the finish in 9:22. A year later, here I was, toeing the line at the Promise Land 50K, already having shaved 2 hours off my 50 Mile effort, having won my first ultra, and having taken the podium in my 2 previous races.

PL50 would be my last of 5 ultras (+ 1 marathon) in 3 months. It would mark my transition from dipping my toes in the ultra waters to being a full-on legit runner, from a year of struggling and learning to a future of opportunities and accomplishments. I was hoping it'd be the final bit of racing confidence I'd need before heading off to Western States. I intended to race this bad boy all out, pedal to the medal.

... But ... 

in the immortal words of David Horton, I was "STUPID!" In my training 2 weeks prior, I ran along with the Boston Marathon live coverage on my treadmill ... ONE WEEK after running a solid 50 Miler. STUPID!  I was cocky and full of myself. I got bored with my casual 7-flat miles and after 20 miles, I said screw it! and kicked up the pace. I ran a sub-18:30 final 5K to finish in a few ticks under 3:00. If that wasn't enough, my treadmill belt got loose at the end, but instead of getting off and tightening it, I started stomping and pushing the belt into place while running sub-6 miles. STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!  For the week and a half between that fiasco and Promise Land, my left femur and quads ached like crazy. I could hardly walk some days. Runs were pain-filled and limp-tacular. I even resorted to drastic measures and went a full 72 hours without running!

... So instead of grabbing life by the horns at Promise Land, I resigned myself to hoping and praying that:

• the pain wouldn't be too bad
• I wouldn't cause enough further damage to jeopardize Western States
• I could still muster a Top 10 (to redeem myself for my painful 11th place finish at Holiday Lake)

I started the race off with a comfortable climbing pace, surrounded by a handful of C-ville / Crozet runners and Clark Zealand (all decked out in his spiffy Patagonia kit ... jealous!).  I was pleasantly surprised that my bum leg only ached instead of sending stabbing pains through the depths of my femur and soul. I made sure to stay well within myself. I didn't climb too hard at the beginning and I was extra cautious on the downhills.

Before I knew it, I was 12 miles into the race, crossing the Blue Ridge Parkway a few seconds back of Ryan Paavola, greeted by the uplifting sound of Horton's voice: "...and ... FIRST LOSER!" I was in 11th place. I just shook my head and shouted that I'd make sure to catch a few guys.  "Be patient, some of those guys are going to die. Just be sure you don't die, too!"  I know, Horton, I know!

I flew through AS3, passing Clark and a runner I felt didn't belong up front. And just like that, I was in 9th!  On the long descent to AS4 I hit some steep, technical single track and found myself running too aggressive ... bounding this way and that, and nearly running right into Ryan Paavola. He kindly offered to let the lunatic by, but I apologized and said I needed to dial it back a bit ... I had a bum leg to be mindful of.

At one point, I got one of my Altra Lone Peak's soaking wet in a stream crossing and just like at Bull Run, the saturation caused my insole to slide around and fold over on itself, forcing my toes into a quasi-hammertoe position. It took an unnecessary amount of wriggling and sliding and pounding to work the insole back into place. I had worn the Lone Peaks instead of the Superiors for the extra bit of padding to protect my leg and I knew I'd run the risk of an insole slip. Going forward, I'll have to glue that sucker down if I run anything other than dry desert ultras with them.

Making my way through AS4, I still found myself behind Ryan, but well within sight of him. I chased him along the painfully hard, paved road for 2 miles before jumping onto the trails of Colon Hollow. I had taken it easy on my legs, making sure to not overexcite myself earlier and give chase to Ryan, and I quickly found that I had a spring in my step when we got back onto the trails. I jumped past Ryan and began to make my way through the rolling single-track and overgrown double-track for the next 6 miles.  I came upon another runner and just like that, I was in 7th.

I was feeling good when I got to AS5 at Colon Hollow and was told that 6th was only "a minute up".  Okay, it's clear my leg isn't going to fall off, so let's pick up the pace!  I thought I had to be making up ground, and then I started to run out of steam. I had mistakenly thought that this section was flat with rolling hills, but in actuality it was rolling hills on an 800' pitch ... I was climbing from 1200' to 2000' in 4 miles AND running rolling hills. It wasn't long before my will-power started to go out the window. This was supposed to be the easy section! I'm supposed to be strong and making up ground here! I kept looking back as I skirted along the densely forested hills ... at least I can't see anyone behind me ... I've got to be increasing my lead over everyone behind me. At one point I reached for my 4th and final gel in my pocket to find it wasn't there. Did I eat it already? Did it fall out? Did I even have 4 gels to start the race? Am I losing my mind?!

When I hit the 200m out-and-back section of trail that led down to AS6, I was hoping to see 6th place. Instead, all I saw was whole bunch of 'nothin. Ugh! And to make matters worse, coming back out of the aid station I passed by FOUR runners -- John Andersen, Clark Zealand, Ryan Paavola, and another runner I didn't know but he looked mighty fresh.

Seeing those guys was like a punch in the gut. Great, I'm running out of energy and instead of growing a lead over the past 5 miles, there's FOUR runners right on my tail and at least three of them scare me! Keeping Top Ten suddenly felt impossible. And to boot, John looked like he was on a mission -- "I'm coming for you and your broken leg!"

I frantically tried to keep running as I began the steep climb up past Apple Orchard Falls, but all that work felt futile. I was quickly passed by the mystery runner ... he was booking it! I thought that at any moment the other three would roll past me. I felt sapped of energy. The panic and fear of getting steamrolled by a hoard of hungry runners was a competitive feeling I'd not felt since high school. I loved it momentarily, and then hated it the rest of the race.

My legs were limp noodles, not high octane pistons. I thought that calories would help so I tried out the Picky Bar I had in my pocket for just this circumstance. I'd never tried Picky Bars before, but figured they sounded good and was hoping to try them out in a race environment. One bite ... my mouth filled with saliva ... and the taste of iron. I tried to choke that single bite down, but it wasn't happening. So much for that idea! (Post-race I ate the rest and it was delicious ... go figure). Then my stomach started to turn. I frantically pulled out my ziplock bag of TP and started searching the side of the trail for a place to go digging in the dirt. I'm running out of steam, there's 3 guys right on my tail, and now I'm going to lose 5 minutes going to the bathroom. Fan-freakin-tastic!

Luckily, my stomach settled and I never needed to stop.  By some miracle, I finally made it through the gauntlet of way-too-steep steps, past the waterfall, and up to the final AS, but I honestly couldn't say what the scenery was like on the way up. I hear it's beautiful, but I was busy hunched over, staring at the ground, hoping my legs would keep pumping.

This is what the internet says I ran past:

I wouldn't know ... I was too busy contemplating collapsing into a heap and weeping like a little baby.

I passed through the final AS and stumbled my way to the top of the climb. Then, the cramps kicked in. Fantastic! I hadn't experienced cramps in my previous 4 races this spring, so it was clear that something was up with my legs.  My right leg was the worst, likely from slightly overcompensating all race to protect the bum left leg. I stopped for a moment to stretch out. Then I stopped for another moment.  Was I going to survive this race at all?!

"Oh don't do that!" John had caught up with me as I was stretching out my quad cramps and offered up some sage advice.  I started to run with him but it was clear I wouldn't be able to keep up. After a few minutes of chatting, he ran on down the trail. I, on the other hand, limped along at pedestrian pace ... And then I bit it! My leg threw a cramp mid-stride and I was flung headlong onto the trail. After a quick roll and pop-up, my legs surprisingly felt better, probably from a quick shot of adrenaline. I picked up the pace as I careened downhill along the final stretch of single track.  As I popped out onto the road to the finish, I could see John in the distance.  I picked up the pace to the point of pain, but not hard enough that I was going to blow out my legs. I had really wanted to run in the neighborhood of 5:30 miles on the way down, but that wasn't going to be happening today.

I kept my eyes fixated on John as I flew down the mountainside at 6-flat pace, breathing calmly, and ever mindful of my weakened legs. 10 seconds back ... still 10 seconds back ... still 10 seconds back ... I'm gonna catch you! 15 seconds back ... One Mile To Go! ... 20 seconds back ... Cramp! Cramp! Cramp! ... There's someone behind me?! How the hell did that happen? Just dig deep ... Almost there. 

And finally ... there it was ... The Promise(d) Land!

I ended the race firmly in 9th place with a time of 5:15. Except, well, actually, it was 8th place!  The would-be 2nd place runner took a wrong turn after cresting the final climb and ended up retracing an earlier section of the race ... his loss, my gain. While I was 15 minutes off of my original goal, I was only 5 minutes back of my pre-race adjusted goal of 5:10, and more than all of those 5 minutes were lost on the final climb and descent. At the end of the day, it was a solid effort that I could hang my hat upon. I was nowhere near 100% physically, yet I stayed within range of many runners I'm now beginning to consider my equals and no longer those lead guys waaay up ahead.  And I snagged a Top 10 to redeem myself from Holiday Lake ... with some sweet Top 10 swag -- an insanely comfortable Patagonia hoodie (I always need a new hoodie!). It was an incredible race and an amazing experience. I can't wait to come back next year -- healthier, stronger, determined.

... and now it's time to go see a doctor about that leg!

2016 Terrapin Mountain 50K Race Recap

(Badass post-race photo. Photo courtesy of Natasha Lamalle Photography)

It's been over 2 weeks since I ran this race, so I figured I better hurry up and get a race report written up.

I just ran a road marathon the week before, BQing for the first time. I treated it as a hard workout. My legs never felt sore or tired in the days between it and Terrapin, but I knew that I'd be playing with fire if I gave Terrapin 100%. I've still got the Bull Run 50 Miler on 09APR and Promise Land 50K++ 3 weeks after that, not to mention the fact that none of these spring races are my A races.  So I resigned myself to taking Terrapin easy and just enjoying the solid amount of vertical gain and trail time I'd be getting in.

I did a very light bit of planning ahead of time, mapping out the elevation and using data from my previous 2 races this year to predict my Aid Station arrival times and my finishing time, which was planned out at 4:45. That was comforting to know that a hard-but-not-quite-race-pace would likely yield a finishing time that's historically been in the Top 10 each year. So I figured I'd just jump to the front of the pack and follow along with some folks somewhere around 10th place for the first climb of the race.

(Terrapin Mountain 50K Elevation Profile ... a bit of a roller coaster)

Terrapin Mountain 50K starts and finishes at the Sedalia Center somewhere in the depths of Virginia. It's put on by Clark Zealand, who is also the Race Director for the Grindstone 100. It consists of 3 sustained climbs -- one of which isn't too long but it is rather steep -- and a few solid descents. The overall vertical profile is somewhere in the neighborhood of +7000'/-7000'.

(Start/Finish for Terrapin. The namesake mountain is in the background ... I think.)

I drove out to the Sedalia Center the afternoon before the race, partook in some pre-race pizza, and then hit the hay in the back of my SUV. Race morning was a bit chilly, with temperatures somewhere in the 40s, and a forecast that predicted cloudy skies and precipitation and temps that wouldn't rise much at all as the day went on.  So instead of a t-shirt, I opted for a lightweight Gore long sleeve shirt, and I threw my Houdini jacket in the pouch of my handheld just in case. I opted against gloves and a hat, figuring I wasn't going to be out running for very long. I had my trusty Patagonia Strider Pro 5 shorts, packed with 3 Huma gels, and my feet were decked out with some Injinji trail socks and my go-to Altra Superiors.

In the pre-dawn haze, I lined up near the front of the starting pack and waited for 7:00am to arrive. When it did, I was off! I settled nicely into an easy pace near the front. As it turned out, I ran into John Andersen, owner of Crozet Running, right after the start. His race times last year were roughly where I wanted to be this year, so I figured I'd run alongside him for awhile. We ran together for the first mile or so, until the course jumps off the paved road and onto a steeper trail up to Camping Gap. At this point, John and a few others worked their way ahead of me, but never by more than a few dozen meters. I was working somewhat hard, but well within myself ... no sense in ruining my easy-paced race plan in the first few miles.

After passing through the first AS at Camping Gap, I started my way down the long descent alongside John. We took it fairly easy, keeping up a steady conversation despite steady 6:40 miles ticking by. If I were by myself, I likely would've kicked up the pace another 20-30 seconds per mile, but this pace better suited my objective of treating Terrapin as a hard training run. And, I was enjoying the company.

A couple other runners caught up to us and we all ran and chatted together until we got into the 2nd AS at the bottom of the first Camping Gap descent. The others joked that they were in for a rough go of it if they were some how keeping pace with John Andersen 10 miles into the race, but he made it known that his objectives were similar to mine -- no hard racing today, boys! The question of our placing came up and John thought only 2 other runners were ahead of us, which I adamantly refused to believe.  But as we strolled into AS2 we saw Clark (RD) and jokingly asked what place we were in, to which he responded by slapping the first of us into the Aid Station on the back and shouting "THIRD!"  Well, that certainly makes things interesting!

The next 9-10 miles were pretty much all climbing and I stayed alongside John the whole time. We were occasionally joined by one of two other runners, but it was pretty clear that by the time the dust settled the two of us would be finishing in 3rd and 4th place today. We joked about it occasionally, but kept treating the race as a solid training run, never pushing ourselves outside of the comfort zone.

Coming up to Camping Gap for the 2nd time, we started into the Lollypop, a looped out-and-back of the White Oak Ridge Trail, consisting of a 6 mile trek 1000' up and then back down a mountain. A couple sections topped out at around a 10% grade, and the way back down had a couple sections that were closer to -12%. John, myself, and another runner -- Chris Miller -- worked our way up to the top together. I punched my bib at the top first and headed back down. I took it very easy, waiting for Chris and John to rejoin me. After a mile or so, the loop ended and joined back up with the original trail (the stick of the lollypop). I looked back and John was a few seconds back but Chris was nowhere to be seen.  I kept the pace easy, and John and I linked back up before we came back into the Camping Gap AS for the third time.

The last climb of the day, to the top of Terrapin Mountain, was all that was left. The rest was pretty much all downhill. I'd heard the climb up to the peak, bouncing across the "Terrapin Rocks", and the descent were a bit hairy, so I selfishly continued to run alongside my new running buddy, seeing as how he'd ran this race before. The climb to the top of Terrapin Mountain was a bit steep, but I never felt winded. It had been raining and sleeting for a while, but by this point it was getting cold enough at the upper elevations of the course that snow was beginning to stick on the ground.

We punched our bibs at the top and began the 2.5 mile and 2000' descent -- yeah an average of 800' per mile! We squeezed our way through Fat Man's Misery -- an 18" wide crack in a rock you have to shimmy down -- and continued to hop our way down the mountainside. By this time, I was thankful I'd taken the first 20 miles of the race so easy ... my legs felt fresh as daisies.

After rolling into the final AS, there was a bit more than 5 miles to the finish. A good portion of it skirted the mountainside, jutting in and out of slight ravines. John said there would be 10, and we proceeded to count them down ... but I think there ended up being 11. I ran very much within myself at this point, comfortably hitting about 8:30 pace. It felt weird taking it that easy, weird but enjoyable. As the end came near, John and I debated racing the last bit or jokingly holding hands over the finish line -- something the winners of the TJ100K did a couple weeks prior.  We settled on the latter option ... just a couple of happy-go-lucky running bros skipping and holding hands!

As the finish approached, we picked up our pace to about 6:30/mile over the final 2 miles or so, and cruised into the finishing chute. I had to switch my handheld from my right to my left hand to prepare for the awesome hand-holding ... and to be honest, the bit of off-balance I felt from that slight shift in weight was probably the most uncomfortable part of the entire race ... a pretty good sign I accomplished my primary objective of treating Terrapin as a training run.

When we made the turn into the finishing chute, Clark could be heard over the loudspeaker shouting "There can only be ONE third place!" Sorry to disappoint, Clark! As we crossed the finish in just over 4:45, John and I held hands and jumped in the air to maximize the cheesiness.  Sadly, the race photographer missed us, but I happily recreated the scene in Microsoft Paint...

(Best Friends Forever! Yay! I'm the shorter one on the right.)

All in all, it was a really good day. I took on some pretty awesome trails, got a good workout in, developed a better understanding of just what I'm capable of now that I've stuck to a consistent training schedule, and I got to casually chit-chat for hours on end.  Now, it's onto the Bull Run Run 50Miler on 09APR!

Here's a breakdown of my Aid Station splits:

	GPS Distance	Race Distance	Split	Split Pace	Duration
Camping Gap (AS1)	4.0	4.0	43:10	10:48	43:10
Goff Rd (AS3)	5.2 (9.2)	5.4 (9.4)	35:25	6:48	1:18:35
Hunting Creek (AS4)	3.9 (13.1)	3.9 (13.3)	38:43	9:55	1:57:18
Camping Gap (AS5)	2.8 (15.9)	3.1 (16.4)	29:26	10:30	2:26:44
Camping Gap (AS6)	5.8 (21.7)	5.7 (22.1)	51:56	8:57	3:18:40
Terrapin Mtn Lane (AS7)	3.5 (25.2)	3.5 (25.6)	40:32	11:35	3:59:12
Finish	5.4 (30.6)	5.5 (31.1)	46:21	8:35	4:45:33

... Oh, and I got some sweet podium schwag!

(My Terrapin Mountain 50K "Top Finisher" schwag ... cuz I'm awesome like that.)

Strava Link (all the cool kids do it):

ICY-8 2016 Race Report

My First Ultra Victory

Less than 10 months since my first-ever ultramarathon and I've bagged my first victory.  The ICY-8, an 8 hour trail race at Lake Anna State Park in Virginia, was a fantastic experience for me.  I tried out a number of new things and gained a lot of confidence from the outing. It wasn't a perfect race, but I walked away without any real what ifs hanging over my head for the first time ever.  Below is a brief report of the race.

(Unique Winner's Prize)

Race Format

The ICY-8 takes place in early February on the mostly runnable trails at Lake Anna State Park in Virginia, most of which are double-track.  It's put on by Athletic Equation and the RD is Alex Papadopoulos -- the same folks who host the OSS/CIA 50, an awesome 50 Mile night race in June just outside of Quantico, VA (that I took 3rd in for 2015).

The fun quirk with the ICY-8 is that each runner has the option of running two loops, one an extension of the other ... and you can run them in whichever direction you choose.  The Long Loop is 8.0 miles and the Short Loop is 4.7 miles.  This format makes for fun gamesmanship in that you don't really know who's winning until the race is over.  And it makes the race exciting from a tactical point of view -- when it's coming down to the end of the day are you going to get stranded at the Start/Finish with 40 minutes to spare because you didn't run an optimal combination of loops? (You get no credit for partial loops ... you have to be at the Start/Finish before 8 hours expires or your last loop doesn't count)

Race Planning

After signing up for the Virginia Beast Series, I put myself in an odd predicament in that I would be running Dave Horton's Holiday Lake 50K the weekend after ICY-8.  So I knew I wasn't going to be able to leave everything out on the table for ICY-8 ... I'd need to be cautious towards the end of the race and not overdo it so I'd be relatively fresh for the next weekend.

I put together a loop selection strategy to give me a number of Decision Points -- based on my time after X loops, continue with a Long Loop or run a Short Loop, etc.  I'd run 2 8.0mile Long Loops and 3 4.7mile Short Loops for a total of 30.1miles, then iteratively choose the Long Loop or Short Loop to try and finish as close to 8 hours as possible without a high risk of overshooting.  I had 3 50+ options -- 54.1miles, 52.2miles, and 50.8miles.  Each of those options had a sub-50mile fallback option with one fewer 4.7mile Short Loop -- 49.4miles, 47.5miles, and 46.1miles.  I coded up an app for my Suunto Ambit 3 watch to help with the decision-making -- it estimated the amount of remaining miles I could cover before 8 hours expired.

My goal was to break 50 Miles -- Each of my fallback options were, in effect, admissions of failure ... the inability to maintain a pace that I thought was manageable and well within my abilities.  Honestly, it was a bit odd making 50+ a race goal, considering less than 10 months before ICY-8 I had run my first 50 miler in roughly 9:20.  It's amazing how much progress you can make in the sport of ultrarunning with a year of modest training under your belt.

Running 54.1miles was going to be a tall order. In the 8 years the ICY-8 has been put on, that distance has only been achieved twice, both times by Olivier LeBlond, a member of the 24hour USATF team.  52.2miles was what I was really aiming for, and 50.8miles was the lowest distance I thought that I could run and still walk away from the race satisfied.

The Race

I ended up running 50.8 miles, consisting of 4 Long Loops and 4 Short Loops.  For kicks I ran each loop backwards exactly once just to see what it felt like -- I preferred the standard clockwise direction to the backwards counter-clockwise direction for both the Long and Short Loops.

I started out at a rather comfortable 8:00-8:30 pace for the first few hours.  Then I settled into some 9:00 miles. And finally I hit a rough patch of 10:00 miles before throwing in the towel and taking a celebratory final loop.

Here's a table of my loop stats:

Loop	Start Dist	End Dist	Time	Loop Duration	Loop Running Pace
Long	0.0	8.0	1:07	1:07	8:22
Short	8.0	4.7	1:47	0:40	8:31
Short Bkwds	12.7	17.4	2:29	0:42	8:56
Short	17.4	22.1	3:11	0:42	8:56
Gear Change			3:13	0:02
Long	22.1	30.1	4:24	1:11	8:52
Bathroom			4:30	0:06
Long	30.1	38.1	5:43	1:13	9:08
Short	38.1	42.8	6:31	0:48	10:00
Long Bkwds	42.8	50.8	7:54	1:23	10:15

And here's a graph of my pace:

(ICY-8 Pace and HR)

An important note!  The advertised distances of 8.0 and 4.7 miles for the two loops may be a little off.  Strava has them listed as 8.1 and 5.0 miles.  As for me, I got roughly 8.1 on average for the Long Loop, but something closer to 4.9 miles on average for the Short Loop. Because of the different combinations of loops you can run at ICY-8, folks who pile up on the Short Loop may be cutting themselves short.  For instance, I ran 4 of each loop and got credit for 50.8 miles but my watch registered 52.0.  The person who came in second place got credit for 50.3 miles by running 1 Long Loop and 9 Short Loops, but if you use my average loop distances he may have actually covered 52.2 miles.  That's more than I ran, but he got credit for less. In the end, though, this is just another aspect of the ICY-8 that makes it so quirky.

Race Start

(Sunrise view just before race start)

I woke up around 5:30am, made some oatmeal in one of the cabins I reserved for my family for the weekend, and then headed off to the starting line.  It was around 24 degrees, but was expected to rise to nearly 50 later on in the day.  Since I wasn't going to be racing hard or elevating my heart rate too much, I opted to start the race with windproof tights, a midweight longsleeve shirt, and gloves and a beanie. I was going to practice my Western States hydration strategy with 2 handhelds -- 1 an electrolyte mixture and the other water -- and figured I could conveniently strip down to shorts and a t-shirt when I planned to finish off my 40oz of liquid at Mile 22.1.

We went through the standard pre-race brief, the handful of first-time ultrarunners were given leis to wear for their first loop, and then we were off at 7:30am sharp!

Loop 1 -- Long -- 0 to 8.0 Miles

I quickly settled into second place behind an eager runner, and was happy to let him pull ahead.  Each loop begins with a modest incline on a paved walking trail, complete with "Steep Grade" signs! I felt that the guy in the lead was pushing too hard up this initial climb and figured nerves were just getting the better of him.  By the time we got to the split for the Long Loop or Short Loop, the guy out front was so far ahead I didn't even know which route he had taken. I settled into a comfortable pace at around 8:20-8:30, making sure my heart rate hovered below 165bpm (about 12-15bpm below marathon pace).

A guy named Jon Love came up on me around 20 minutes into the loop and we ran together all the way back to the Start/Finish.  He was running in the Groundhog division, where you could only run 1 of the loops, and only in 1 specified direction. I thought his pace was a tad quick, but was happy to run along with some company for awhile.  We meandered through the double-track, and pushed through the one big climb of the course -- only available on the Long Loop, and then merged back in with the Short Loop, which has some sections of single-track.  At one point we popped off a sub-8 mile, which had me a bit worried.  But my HR was in check and I felt good so I kept on at 8:00-8:20 pace.

The end of the first loop was a lot of fun, and something I was excited to experience more as the day progressed -- the "Steep Grade" we ran up at the beginning really allowed me to open up my stride on the way back down and into the Start/Finish.  It was a nice end to each loop.

I called out "85, Long" to the RD, tapped the Start/Finish gate, and headed back out for a series of Short Loops.

Loops 2 - 4 -- Short Loop -- 8.0 - 22.1 Miles

I switched things up and went for the Short Loop next.  I had already seen 98% of the loop already because the Long Loop is just an extension of the Short Loop.  Nothing of interest really happened for the next couple of hours.  I was able to maintain a steady 8:15 - 8:45 pace (accounting for the slightly longer than advertised distance) while keeping my heart rate close to my target of 165bpm.  When I pulled in after the first Short Loop at 12.7 miles I was greeted with a "you again!" from Alex. And I periodically got shouts from fellow runners to the effect of "Way to go, Speedy!"  Honestly, I was called "Speedy" about 10 times during the race ... I guess people thought I was booking it.

The only real thing of note over these miles was that I developed some tightness in my left calf and achilles around Mile 12. I was very aware of it and made sure to not push my pace for fear of cramping and blowing out my legs.  That tightness prevailed for nearly 20 miles before it finally disappeared.

I decided to string together 3 straight Short Loops because my liquid intake was indicating I'd drain my 2 20oz bottles around 21-23 miles into the run.  By that time it was already getting warm and I was more than ready to strip down to shorts and a t-shirt.  On my way in after the 3rd Short Loop for 22.1 miles, I took my time on the steep downhill at the end of the loop and prepared myself for a quick transition -- I ripped off my gloves and beanie, took off my long sleeve shirt (running for a few seconds downhill with a shirt over my head garnered a few looks of surprise), and prepped my bottles.  When I came into the Start/Finish it was the first time I had stopped moving, which felt a bit weird.  At any rate, I made quick time of stripping off my tights, picking up a new electrolyte mixture, and filling my other bottle back up with water.  I also grabbed a quick swig of ginger ale and a small PBJ sandwich. All told, I was in and out in less than 2 minutes.  Not bad.

At this point in the race, a little over 3 hours in, I had consumed around 45oz of liquid and roughly 600 calories. I was right on pace nutrition-wise.

Loop 5 -- Long Loop -- 22.1 - 30.1 Miles

This was my last loop before I needed to start making tactical decisions to maximize my distance and minimize my risk of getting stranded out on the course when 8 hours rolled around.  I eased into a good pace of 9:00 miles and felt very comfortable.  I even had the legs to tackle the big climb on the Long Loop without hiking.

...I probably should have walked, however.  My HR spiked and then held steady at 175, well above what I wanted.  At this point I was about 4 hours into the race and I think my body was starting to transition to full-on fat burning mode.  Looking back, the big climb + the fat burning transition is likely what kept my HR elevated for the next couple of miles.  But while I was out on the trail I was totally baffled ... my pace felt easy, my breathing was fine, my muscles were okay ... there was no reason my HR should have been cresting 170, much less 180!

About halfway through the loop, right around the point that my HR was acting up, I hit my first 9:00+ mile, ignoring the previous Aid Station stop.  Hmm, that's a bit unexpected! Then I hit another mile over 9:00. What the hell is going on?!  By the end of the loop it was clear that 8:00-8:30 miles were behind me...

When I pulled into the Start/Finish at 30.1 Miles I had plenty of liquids and I really wanted to just turn around and head right back out onto the trails ... but nature was calling and there was a restroom 150 yards from the Aid Station.  Despite taking a slew of Immodium in the 12 hours before the race, it was not at all unexpected for me to have the urge to go scratching in the woods right about this time in the race.  The lure of a porcelain seat was too much to pass up on, so I did my business on a proper toilet instead of squatting behind a log in the woods.  The jog to/from the restroom probably cost me 2 minutes, but I figured if I put myself in a position to finish my final loop in 8:02, well then that was my own damn fault for not pacing properly.

Loop 6 -- Long Loop -- 30.1 to 38.1 Miles

This loop was rather uneventful.  I raced off from the restroom, but once I hit that early Steep Grade I took a minute to fast hike and down a gel (Strawberry Huma chia gel, yummy). Then I got back to it, making a comfortable 9:00-9:15 pace for the entire loop. My heart rate remarkably settled in on 155bpm, well below the elevated rate it was at for the previous loop.

When it came time to tackle the big climb, I took the conservative approach and used it as an opportunity to hike. I still had another 16-20 miles left to run and I didn't want to start inducing muscle spasms or anything.

Overall, my pace was pretty consistent with the previous Long Loop, but I was slowing down.  It looks like the race had broken down into a constant effort of just below 8:30 pacing for the first 22.1 miles, and then something closer to 9:00 pacing for miles 22.1 to 38.1.

I came into the Start/Finish feeling a little tired. I knew that 54.1 miles was most likely out of the question, but 52.2 miles was still a possibility.  That would require 3 more Short Loops.  Knowing my next loop was going to be a Short Loop, I ditched my handheld with the water, thinking it'd be excessive to keep carrying 2 bottles.  I filled my other handheld with some more electrolyte mixture, downed a bit of ginger ale, and snagged another small PBJ sandwich, then headed off.

At this point I was just shy of 6 hours into the race, I had consumed around 80oz of liquid and just shy of 1200 calories. My nutrition intake was still solid but my H2O intake needed to improve a bit.

Loop 7 -- Short Loop -- 38.1 - 42.8 Miles

This loop would be my make it or break it loop.  If I held a solid 9:00 pace I could likely push it for 3 remaining Short Loops and finish with 52.2 miles ... but that's not how it turned out ...

From the get-go, I was a mess.  Right after the Steep Grade climb, my quads started to spasm slightly.  I pulled off to the side of the trail to stretch them out.  Instead of squatting down and stretching them gently, I acted like an idiot and swung my right heel up to my butt for a standing quad stretch.  My right hamstring immediately protested! I started to lose my balance from the hamstring spasming, so my left knee buckled hard and my left quad started to spasm, too.  Crap!  This could be a rough end to the race!  I calmed myself and spend the next minute carefully stretching my legs before heading back off down the trail.

It didn't get any easier for me. I was struggling to maintain 9:00 miles.  I felt like I was exhausting myself to get close to 9-flat.  My heart rate was fine but it just felt like I wasn't running on all cylinders anymore.  Towards the end of the loop I was pushing 10:00 miles and the app on my watch showed my expected mileage dropping 0.1 miles every few minutes.  I was running out of steam!

I stumbled into the Start/Finish with less than 90 minutes left on the clock. That last Short Loop took me a full 7 minutes longer than the first time I ran it.  With the Short Loop running closer to 5.0 miles than 4.7, I'd need to finish hard running a long string of sub-9:00 miles to get 52.2.  I quickly topped off my water bottle just in case, and headed back out on the trail.

Loop 8 -- Long Loop -- 42.8 - 50.8 Miles

I decided I'd push the pace and start running the Short Loop backwards.  Because of how the Long Loop is an extension of the Short Loop, running backwards would give me roughly 3 miles to decide if I should push it for 52.2 miles or cut my losses with 50.8.  If I had ran the standard clockwise direction, I'd only have around 1.5 miles to make up my mind.

Despite walking up the Steep Grade at the beginning, my quads again started spasming along the exact same section of trail as before. So, again, I took a minute to stretch out ... still clinging to the hope that this would solve my problems and give me what I needed to dig deep and grab 52.2 miles.

By the time I got to the turn off for the Long Loop extension it was clear that 52.2 wasn't going to happen.  I might have been able to manage it, but it would've required blowing out my legs and compromising Holiday Lake the next weekend.  The string of 3 straight 10:00+ miles really made my mind up for me.  I would be finishing with 50.8 miles for the day.

... So I dialed back the pace and enjoyed myself.  My stride felt light and loose, my breathing was easy, it was wonderful.  Moreover, because I was running the Long Loop backwards, I had the trails to myself for the last few miles -- at this point in the game no one in their right mind would head off on the Long Loop in the clockwise direction, and I had a feeling no one was going to be sneaking up on me from behind.

With around 30 minutes left in the race my stomach started feeling weird.  Great! Just what I needed.  I tried running through it but quickly realized I'd either need to slow to a crawl or bite the bullet and go scratching in the woods.  I did my business in short order and was back on the trail.  However, I wasn't exactly sure how much longer I had to run. I panicked and picked up the pace. My central governor, sensing the end was near, flooded my system with a jolt of energy and let me dial up the effort.

I steamed into the Finish with about 6 minutes to spare.  I had officially run 50 miles in less than 8 hours for the first time!  No matter what place I was in, I'd be walking away from the race with a sense of accomplishment.

All told, I had consumed around 1500 calories, right on target.  My hydration was a bit low at maybe 120oz, if that.  I should've taken in closer to 150 ... that's something I need to keep working on.

Awards!

Minutes after I finished, I saw my wife approaching the parking lot, pushing our daughter in the stroller.  They'd missed me finish by a couple of minutes, but it was all good because the kiddo apparently had a stellar nap!  We played at the nearby playground for a little while, as the RD tabulated the results.

When the awards were being announced, I hung out off to the side, playing with my kid.  They started working their way up the finishers list, and at 3rd place they called out 48.9 miles.  If I had my thinking cap on just then, I would've realized I'd won, cuz I'd spoken to another guy at the finish and he said he'd run 50.3 miles.  Instead, I waited for my name to be called ... And when someone else was called up for 2nd place, my wife and I exchanged equally befuddled looks.

I'm not quite sure I can convey what I was feeling just then -- excitement, confusion, relief.  I'd come out to ICY-8 just looking to get a hard training run in, hoping I could verify that I had the legs for a sub-8 50 mile effort.  I walked away with First Place Overall and I didn't even push the pace.  My mind immediately started racing to the next handful of races I have lined up this spring. Here's to hoping I can keep building momentum towards a stellar Western States appearance in June!

Afterward ...

After spending the night in our cabin (which I highly recommend for anyone interested in visiting Lake Anna), complete with a cozy fire, me and the family headed back to DC on Sunday.  But not before swinging by Sonic for a celebratory meal ...

(Mmmmm, Sonic!)