At the gym last night it was hard not to be motivated. My night entailed an uppper body weight workout (I never do lower body weight lifting, as evidenced by my chicken legs), :45 on the eliptical, :30 in the sauna, :05 in the "hotter" sauna, then a cool down with :05 in the hot tub. While doing the weights the Olympics were on the tv. I paused long enough to watch some heats and some finals. Next, on the eliptical rocking to the Ipod, I was watching the gymnastics and thought to myself what it must take to be that disciplined for four or more years to even get a shot at achieving those goals. I started thinking that if they can do it for years, I can stay disciplined for five weeks!! No more refined sugar, and working on abs, stretching, and weights.
I had totally planned to get ice cream after this night's exercise and it would be "the last time until Greece" (like I've never said THAT before), but watching those athletes, I had a change of heart, or should I say stomach?. I saw how lean they were and decided that they didn't get that ripped by over-eating and downing sweet dairy products. That's it for me. Smaller portions more times a day, no junk.
I might put each day of training on the blog just to keep myself honest with the streching and core work.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
The Canadian Death Race
First and foremost without the amazing crewing efforts of Carrie, Hannah, and Elias, there would have been no race. Grande Cache, Alberta, is no tourist destination and the weather was not what you would consider a tropical paradise. The fact that they were at each and every aid station before I got there and were all set up made my race happen. The kids were happy every time and even helped their mom out with water and handing off bottles. I was worried on the first two stations when I was there a bit earlier than we had discussed but it was for not as they sought me out amongst the other athletes and spectators.
After all day in the car on the Wednesday before the race my back was some kind of tight. I did a 40 minute run on Thursday morning where it was almost seizing up and my breathing was like I was eighty years old. Overall I felt like crap. Friday I did a 30 minute run and it felt a bit better but I still wasn't overly optomistic about how I'd feel the next day. Luckily I had my good friend Advil to watch over me if times got tough. We picked up the race package that day and saw a bit of the midway with its Sumo wrestling ring, rock climbing wall, mini race cars, and the vendor's booths.
It was nice to be within walking distance from the start line and not get up too early - 6am for an 8am start. I knew it would be a long day for the crew and that was a bit of an incentive to finish as fast as I could. I registered and nothing was left but the anthem and the start.
People didn't take off in a flash, even the relay racers. I thought for sure that there would be a mad rush of folks trying to get ahead. I kept an eye on eventual winner and fellow World 100km teammate Jack Cook but didn't exactly want to be in front of him. As he had done this race two times before I figured he knew what pace to head out on. Of course, he could have been making me chase him hoping I'd think he was in way better shape than me (a probability anyways) and maybe I'd hold back.
The first leg was fairly flat with a few short, steep sections that I walked, and also some long descents that I took conservatively. I saw Jack up ahead of me for most of this stage but was definitely running my own race. Another runner named Mike Scherman who ended up in fourth place ran with me for a bit. He had done a few Ironman races and when I told him the guy in front of us was Jack Cook, he quickly took off and was running with him most of leg one. We cruised past a lake where I thought the aid would be and was worried because only an hour had passed and thought Carrie might not have been there yet. As we had about six more kms to go on a gravel road to the end of the stage, everything worked out fine.
Leg two starts out with maybe a kilometer of rolling terrain and then heads right into a quad track straight up where the walking began. This went on for some time where I was walking then running a bit then walking some more until around a corner was a marshall directing people right. He says, "Here you go, right up these stairs." I can tell you that this trail of "stairs" would never have passed building code as such becuase it was necessary in some spots to grab trees to pull yourself up the grade. Even the relay members with trekking poles were having a hard go of it. We finally got out of it and could run again across a ridge and through the timing station then back around and down the way we had come.
We had looped around and now we saw the same marshall again who this time lead us to the right again but down a section as steep as the one we'd just climbed. If there had been more rain that day or in the previous few days, I would have slid to the bottom, out of control. As it was there was a trekker in front of me and I think he heard I was kind of losing it so he went to move to the side but wiped out on his ass. All I could do was say sorry a couple times and go past - there was no stopping.
This started what was a section they called The Slugfest. Not exactly sure why but only that it was a long rolling batch of terrain that was mostly narrow single track with bushes from my ankles to my neck that soaked me in about ten minutes of going through it. There were more sections of quad-straining downhills and even at one of these spots they had marshalls to warn us of the impending dropoffs. It was here that I caught up to Mike Scherman and joked to him how he let Jack get away. He said that the way Jack was going up the hills he had to let him go. I know that Jack can put in a good push to shake people and it worked that time. Mike was from Montreal with no real hills to train on and could have been why I passed him pretty easily through this part. Finally at the top of Grande Mountain (6500') there was another timing point but also brutal wind and rain and sleet. Yet after five minutes of descent it warmed up and the rain stopped.
I remember at the pre-race meeting the race director was saying at this point all we had to do was follow the powerlines and we would have no trouble getting down. It was easy enough but at the top I could look across this valley to the other side and see the powerline trail clearly - it was wicked steep going down then the mirror image of grade going back up. I could see off in the distance a runner going up and he was oh so teeny tiny. Oh, well, here we go. This was the scariest part of the race: I never thought about staying safe for my next race or even trying to be conservative now, it was just hold on for dear life, hope I didn't twist an ankle and fall and roll (and roll and roll and roll), or trip on anything. There was about ten feet of flat running at the bottom and it started up again. At the top of this was basically more downhill all the way to the bottom, up a stretch along the highway, and through about three blocks of town to the starting point again where the leg ended.
My super-crew greeted me and I changed out of my soaking shirts and put new ones on. For some reason I thought I was going up the next mountain on the next stage so put on two shirts which I regretted because it got quite warm during stage three.
This stage went through town for a couple more blocks before heading out along the river over winding trails that were for the most part runnable and a lot of downhill. I traded leads with a girl for a ways who turns out was splitting up the race with another girl with whom she was doing the Trans-Alps race in a few weeks. That one's on my list.
At near the six hour mark I saw Jack in front of me and was quite surprised. I caught up and asked how he was doing - he was fine - and I just carried on in my steady gear. We were within a hundred feet for the rest of leg three and with me just edging him out at the checkpoint at the start of leg four. Starting this one I knew it would be easier terrain than stage two but longer hill-wise and time-wise. Through a bit of woods then down to the highway there was no sign of which way to go. This race had the best markings of any long race I've done but at this point I didn't have a clue. All I know is I went to the right and hoped I'd see someone behind me soon. It turned out I was going in the right direction as a relay member went by me like I was standing still and said we head into the trail soon.
As soon as we did, it was quad-trail straight up. Jack caught me halfway up the narrow trail and followed me until we got to the gravel roads. After a bit of downhill running, we hit the uphills again and he literally power-walked away from me. Whether it was fatigue, knowing what was coming, or altitude, I had my one steady gear and I was sticking to it.
I would see him once in a while on a switchback nearing the top of Mt. Hamel (7000'). This section was amazing because we were above the treeline with mounds and mounds of shale all around us like it was dumped by a thousand trucks along the trail. The view was incredible, too, and you could see the pockets of rain showers heading our way. At the top of this we turned right to go about 300m to a hut where we then turned around, went back the way we came for a kilometer or so, retrieved a prayer flag to prove we'd gone the distance, and went back to the hut. They took my flag, I registered my timing stick, then started down. I think I could have gone down faster on this section but I was concerned about saving the legs and not cramping them.
Ten minutes down this road I was wondering if that hut was the place I was supposed to pick up my backpack with my headlight and jacket and water in. It was too late to turn around so I kept going wondering how I'd go another two and a half hours on the amount of fluid I had to drink. I began thinking I'd have to grab water from a stream. Then I thought how would I be able to start leg 5 without a headlight as I remember them saying if you start it after a certain time you couldn't go without one? I was conserving water when I came around a bend and saw the Ambler-Loop aid station with our drop bags. Man, was I relieved!!! I left my backpack there to be picked up after the loop but refilled my bottles and promptly drank half of one. This loop was a couple k's down a gravel road then back through trails, mostly uphill.
After strapping on the backpack at the station again it was a quick 10km descent down a logging road. How monotonous was that? There was so much down I was begging for an up. At the bottom we turned and ran along the highway in yet more quad-trails. Along here it was cool because cars would drive by and lean on the horn in support and they would shout out "Go Death Racer!!" I was quite surprised when I saw up ahead Jack's red shirt again. Why couldn't he just be ten minutes in front and I'd never know and wouldn't have to worry about sprinting to the finish?!?! He left the aid station before me and that was the last I saw him (thankfully).
There was an incredibly cruel hill to climb for at least ten or twelve minutes once we left the aid station. After that was lots of single track with the bushes at knee level but so close to the trail it was hard to see the ground. I wouldn't have wanted to do that section in the dark. It would have been some slow going. With a bit of downhill I reached the river crossing. Here the racers have to give the "ferryman" (dressed up like Death) a coin we'd been carrying since the start and this gave us passage across the river in a boat. If you had no coin, you couldn't cross. I was looking forward to a bit of a break but no sooner than thirty seconds after I sat down were we on the other side.
I thought the beginning of this stage was a cruel climb - we went up and up and up from this point with a bit of rolling hills but then more climbs. There was the final trail section that was covered in tree roots for what seemed like kilometers until I finally got to the last gravel road. What do I find here? More @#$%! hills. This road was twisting and at every turn all I could see was more up. The gravel road led to a paved town road which, as a final insult, was all uphill to the finish.
I got to the end, handed off my pack and bottles to Carrie and ran in to the finish with the kids in my arms. Since they're getting so big, I wanted to carry them over the line seeing as next year for sure they'll be too big to do so. They were lighter than air to me I was so happy to be done. I was reunited with Jack and we had a good chat about the race. He was definitely deserved of the win.
This event was a lot harder than I expected but after seven years of thinking about how I could do it, I was very pleased with having finished. Especially after the shin splints and racing a 100 mile, 50km, and now this run in only six weeks. Next year the races will be more spread out for sure.
No Stormy 50 mile this weekend to recover and put the focus on Greece!!!
See the link for the pictures below:
After all day in the car on the Wednesday before the race my back was some kind of tight. I did a 40 minute run on Thursday morning where it was almost seizing up and my breathing was like I was eighty years old. Overall I felt like crap. Friday I did a 30 minute run and it felt a bit better but I still wasn't overly optomistic about how I'd feel the next day. Luckily I had my good friend Advil to watch over me if times got tough. We picked up the race package that day and saw a bit of the midway with its Sumo wrestling ring, rock climbing wall, mini race cars, and the vendor's booths.
It was nice to be within walking distance from the start line and not get up too early - 6am for an 8am start. I knew it would be a long day for the crew and that was a bit of an incentive to finish as fast as I could. I registered and nothing was left but the anthem and the start.
People didn't take off in a flash, even the relay racers. I thought for sure that there would be a mad rush of folks trying to get ahead. I kept an eye on eventual winner and fellow World 100km teammate Jack Cook but didn't exactly want to be in front of him. As he had done this race two times before I figured he knew what pace to head out on. Of course, he could have been making me chase him hoping I'd think he was in way better shape than me (a probability anyways) and maybe I'd hold back.
The first leg was fairly flat with a few short, steep sections that I walked, and also some long descents that I took conservatively. I saw Jack up ahead of me for most of this stage but was definitely running my own race. Another runner named Mike Scherman who ended up in fourth place ran with me for a bit. He had done a few Ironman races and when I told him the guy in front of us was Jack Cook, he quickly took off and was running with him most of leg one. We cruised past a lake where I thought the aid would be and was worried because only an hour had passed and thought Carrie might not have been there yet. As we had about six more kms to go on a gravel road to the end of the stage, everything worked out fine.
Leg two starts out with maybe a kilometer of rolling terrain and then heads right into a quad track straight up where the walking began. This went on for some time where I was walking then running a bit then walking some more until around a corner was a marshall directing people right. He says, "Here you go, right up these stairs." I can tell you that this trail of "stairs" would never have passed building code as such becuase it was necessary in some spots to grab trees to pull yourself up the grade. Even the relay members with trekking poles were having a hard go of it. We finally got out of it and could run again across a ridge and through the timing station then back around and down the way we had come.
We had looped around and now we saw the same marshall again who this time lead us to the right again but down a section as steep as the one we'd just climbed. If there had been more rain that day or in the previous few days, I would have slid to the bottom, out of control. As it was there was a trekker in front of me and I think he heard I was kind of losing it so he went to move to the side but wiped out on his ass. All I could do was say sorry a couple times and go past - there was no stopping.
This started what was a section they called The Slugfest. Not exactly sure why but only that it was a long rolling batch of terrain that was mostly narrow single track with bushes from my ankles to my neck that soaked me in about ten minutes of going through it. There were more sections of quad-straining downhills and even at one of these spots they had marshalls to warn us of the impending dropoffs. It was here that I caught up to Mike Scherman and joked to him how he let Jack get away. He said that the way Jack was going up the hills he had to let him go. I know that Jack can put in a good push to shake people and it worked that time. Mike was from Montreal with no real hills to train on and could have been why I passed him pretty easily through this part. Finally at the top of Grande Mountain (6500') there was another timing point but also brutal wind and rain and sleet. Yet after five minutes of descent it warmed up and the rain stopped.
I remember at the pre-race meeting the race director was saying at this point all we had to do was follow the powerlines and we would have no trouble getting down. It was easy enough but at the top I could look across this valley to the other side and see the powerline trail clearly - it was wicked steep going down then the mirror image of grade going back up. I could see off in the distance a runner going up and he was oh so teeny tiny. Oh, well, here we go. This was the scariest part of the race: I never thought about staying safe for my next race or even trying to be conservative now, it was just hold on for dear life, hope I didn't twist an ankle and fall and roll (and roll and roll and roll), or trip on anything. There was about ten feet of flat running at the bottom and it started up again. At the top of this was basically more downhill all the way to the bottom, up a stretch along the highway, and through about three blocks of town to the starting point again where the leg ended.
My super-crew greeted me and I changed out of my soaking shirts and put new ones on. For some reason I thought I was going up the next mountain on the next stage so put on two shirts which I regretted because it got quite warm during stage three.
This stage went through town for a couple more blocks before heading out along the river over winding trails that were for the most part runnable and a lot of downhill. I traded leads with a girl for a ways who turns out was splitting up the race with another girl with whom she was doing the Trans-Alps race in a few weeks. That one's on my list.
At near the six hour mark I saw Jack in front of me and was quite surprised. I caught up and asked how he was doing - he was fine - and I just carried on in my steady gear. We were within a hundred feet for the rest of leg three and with me just edging him out at the checkpoint at the start of leg four. Starting this one I knew it would be easier terrain than stage two but longer hill-wise and time-wise. Through a bit of woods then down to the highway there was no sign of which way to go. This race had the best markings of any long race I've done but at this point I didn't have a clue. All I know is I went to the right and hoped I'd see someone behind me soon. It turned out I was going in the right direction as a relay member went by me like I was standing still and said we head into the trail soon.
As soon as we did, it was quad-trail straight up. Jack caught me halfway up the narrow trail and followed me until we got to the gravel roads. After a bit of downhill running, we hit the uphills again and he literally power-walked away from me. Whether it was fatigue, knowing what was coming, or altitude, I had my one steady gear and I was sticking to it.
I would see him once in a while on a switchback nearing the top of Mt. Hamel (7000'). This section was amazing because we were above the treeline with mounds and mounds of shale all around us like it was dumped by a thousand trucks along the trail. The view was incredible, too, and you could see the pockets of rain showers heading our way. At the top of this we turned right to go about 300m to a hut where we then turned around, went back the way we came for a kilometer or so, retrieved a prayer flag to prove we'd gone the distance, and went back to the hut. They took my flag, I registered my timing stick, then started down. I think I could have gone down faster on this section but I was concerned about saving the legs and not cramping them.
Ten minutes down this road I was wondering if that hut was the place I was supposed to pick up my backpack with my headlight and jacket and water in. It was too late to turn around so I kept going wondering how I'd go another two and a half hours on the amount of fluid I had to drink. I began thinking I'd have to grab water from a stream. Then I thought how would I be able to start leg 5 without a headlight as I remember them saying if you start it after a certain time you couldn't go without one? I was conserving water when I came around a bend and saw the Ambler-Loop aid station with our drop bags. Man, was I relieved!!! I left my backpack there to be picked up after the loop but refilled my bottles and promptly drank half of one. This loop was a couple k's down a gravel road then back through trails, mostly uphill.
After strapping on the backpack at the station again it was a quick 10km descent down a logging road. How monotonous was that? There was so much down I was begging for an up. At the bottom we turned and ran along the highway in yet more quad-trails. Along here it was cool because cars would drive by and lean on the horn in support and they would shout out "Go Death Racer!!" I was quite surprised when I saw up ahead Jack's red shirt again. Why couldn't he just be ten minutes in front and I'd never know and wouldn't have to worry about sprinting to the finish?!?! He left the aid station before me and that was the last I saw him (thankfully).
There was an incredibly cruel hill to climb for at least ten or twelve minutes once we left the aid station. After that was lots of single track with the bushes at knee level but so close to the trail it was hard to see the ground. I wouldn't have wanted to do that section in the dark. It would have been some slow going. With a bit of downhill I reached the river crossing. Here the racers have to give the "ferryman" (dressed up like Death) a coin we'd been carrying since the start and this gave us passage across the river in a boat. If you had no coin, you couldn't cross. I was looking forward to a bit of a break but no sooner than thirty seconds after I sat down were we on the other side.
I thought the beginning of this stage was a cruel climb - we went up and up and up from this point with a bit of rolling hills but then more climbs. There was the final trail section that was covered in tree roots for what seemed like kilometers until I finally got to the last gravel road. What do I find here? More @#$%! hills. This road was twisting and at every turn all I could see was more up. The gravel road led to a paved town road which, as a final insult, was all uphill to the finish.
I got to the end, handed off my pack and bottles to Carrie and ran in to the finish with the kids in my arms. Since they're getting so big, I wanted to carry them over the line seeing as next year for sure they'll be too big to do so. They were lighter than air to me I was so happy to be done. I was reunited with Jack and we had a good chat about the race. He was definitely deserved of the win.
This event was a lot harder than I expected but after seven years of thinking about how I could do it, I was very pleased with having finished. Especially after the shin splints and racing a 100 mile, 50km, and now this run in only six weeks. Next year the races will be more spread out for sure.
No Stormy 50 mile this weekend to recover and put the focus on Greece!!!
See the link for the pictures below:
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Pre Post-Death Race Report
For all my thousands of readers out there (or is that ten or under?) just a quick update to say that the Stormy 50 mile is not on the plan any longer. Suffice to say the Death Race was a workout, and then some, so will need the time to recover then focus fully on Spartathlon in six short weeks. Still don't know how I'm going to get enough miles in for that one, but when has that ever stopped me?!?! Pictures of the D.R. will be on tomorrow and a report shortly. Just hard to do one when I'm so busy working :)
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Pre-Death Race
Just a last quick thought on the Knee Knacker:
I think the year was 2001 and I was up at Penticton to watch the Ironman and ultimately sign up for '02. We were waiting in line to get a table at a breakfast eatery after the athletes left on their bikes. There was a guy in front of us wearing a shirt with all these sharp, jagged lines on the back and upon closer inspection I read that it was the Knee Knacker trail run elevation profile. It was with the utmost awe and respect I stared at its 8000' of climbing and descending and although I didn't talk with the owner of the shirt, I commented to those I was with to look at the dude's legs. Dropping below his shorts line were skinny, knobby knees and below those were huge calves that screamed out years of development on the trails. Below THOSE were the most prominent achilles tendons I've ever seen. It was as though the ridges of the tendons reached the middle of his foot. I thought again with the utmost awe and respect what it must take to develop such running attributes. All I had were skinny, knobby knees with no calves and your average, waiting to be pulled any time, achilles'. It was a moment when I realized how "crazy" someone must be to attempt such a race and I never would have believed that I would compete in it one day, my aspirations being triathlons. Even when my friend Evelyn did Chuckanut a few years before me, after hearing about it, I believed that only those schooled in masochism would do an event such as that. I guess it's all relative. When I started running, a marathon seemed as far as the moon. At the finish line of my first triathlon, I was like a baby in terms of knowledge in the sport of triathlon. An Ironman (me not even aware there was such a thing as an Ultraman) was but a dream years in the future. Subsequently the Canadian Death Race has loomed on my radar for more years than an Ironman did but there was always interference not allowing me to enter. Maybe the lure of it was the trails beckoning me. It seemed again like an impossibly difficult and ambitious race, something to be feared just at the mention of the name. After years of conditioning and thousands of miles, a marathon, Ironman, Ultraman, 100 km, and 100 mile all fell before me. Of course there are further distances than that. Those I've done mere sprints in the overall scheme of things. Whether I do things that are "crazy" in terms of distance to almost everyone who inquires is yet to be determined. I had to walk/run 100 miles before I attempt 152, just as a half-iron preceded a full. The Death Race to me represents a test of endurance but also speed and I hope to not only complete this but to actually race it like I never have before. That's not to say I'll do as well as I want (have I ever?), but I only want to feel that I gave it my all and hope things come together in this last long run before Greece.
Now, again, how not to taper for a race is spend three days in Las Vegas in 40 degree heat eating too much and drinking too much (only one night, really). This was first time there and it was mind-blowing in terms of the size and decadence of the hotels and casinos. Those who've been there know what I'm talking about. I planned to run while there but when it's 30 degrees at 8am I didn't think it would be very beneficial. I would step outside from the air-conditioned casinos and love to feel the heat but then five minutes later it felt like I was standing beside an idling bus engine wondering why my scalp felt on fire. I don't know how anybody could live there. Anyways, after my massage today I have to say my legs have felt the best in weeks, mostly due to the three day layoff. I did a small 40 minute road run today and I'll go out in Alberta (no worries about heat there!!) on Thursday and Friday before the race. My only desire is to feel fast and if it turns out I go fast then that's all the more better. I have a time goal as usual but will keep it to myself for now.
I got the official email invite to attend the World 100km Championships in Italy this November. More to follow later on that. I'll post Vegas pics of the wedding reception we attended one night there (the drunken one) if they end up being suitable for publishing. 12 hours of driving, here we come!!
I think the year was 2001 and I was up at Penticton to watch the Ironman and ultimately sign up for '02. We were waiting in line to get a table at a breakfast eatery after the athletes left on their bikes. There was a guy in front of us wearing a shirt with all these sharp, jagged lines on the back and upon closer inspection I read that it was the Knee Knacker trail run elevation profile. It was with the utmost awe and respect I stared at its 8000' of climbing and descending and although I didn't talk with the owner of the shirt, I commented to those I was with to look at the dude's legs. Dropping below his shorts line were skinny, knobby knees and below those were huge calves that screamed out years of development on the trails. Below THOSE were the most prominent achilles tendons I've ever seen. It was as though the ridges of the tendons reached the middle of his foot. I thought again with the utmost awe and respect what it must take to develop such running attributes. All I had were skinny, knobby knees with no calves and your average, waiting to be pulled any time, achilles'. It was a moment when I realized how "crazy" someone must be to attempt such a race and I never would have believed that I would compete in it one day, my aspirations being triathlons. Even when my friend Evelyn did Chuckanut a few years before me, after hearing about it, I believed that only those schooled in masochism would do an event such as that. I guess it's all relative. When I started running, a marathon seemed as far as the moon. At the finish line of my first triathlon, I was like a baby in terms of knowledge in the sport of triathlon. An Ironman (me not even aware there was such a thing as an Ultraman) was but a dream years in the future. Subsequently the Canadian Death Race has loomed on my radar for more years than an Ironman did but there was always interference not allowing me to enter. Maybe the lure of it was the trails beckoning me. It seemed again like an impossibly difficult and ambitious race, something to be feared just at the mention of the name. After years of conditioning and thousands of miles, a marathon, Ironman, Ultraman, 100 km, and 100 mile all fell before me. Of course there are further distances than that. Those I've done mere sprints in the overall scheme of things. Whether I do things that are "crazy" in terms of distance to almost everyone who inquires is yet to be determined. I had to walk/run 100 miles before I attempt 152, just as a half-iron preceded a full. The Death Race to me represents a test of endurance but also speed and I hope to not only complete this but to actually race it like I never have before. That's not to say I'll do as well as I want (have I ever?), but I only want to feel that I gave it my all and hope things come together in this last long run before Greece.
Now, again, how not to taper for a race is spend three days in Las Vegas in 40 degree heat eating too much and drinking too much (only one night, really). This was first time there and it was mind-blowing in terms of the size and decadence of the hotels and casinos. Those who've been there know what I'm talking about. I planned to run while there but when it's 30 degrees at 8am I didn't think it would be very beneficial. I would step outside from the air-conditioned casinos and love to feel the heat but then five minutes later it felt like I was standing beside an idling bus engine wondering why my scalp felt on fire. I don't know how anybody could live there. Anyways, after my massage today I have to say my legs have felt the best in weeks, mostly due to the three day layoff. I did a small 40 minute road run today and I'll go out in Alberta (no worries about heat there!!) on Thursday and Friday before the race. My only desire is to feel fast and if it turns out I go fast then that's all the more better. I have a time goal as usual but will keep it to myself for now.
I got the official email invite to attend the World 100km Championships in Italy this November. More to follow later on that. I'll post Vegas pics of the wedding reception we attended one night there (the drunken one) if they end up being suitable for publishing. 12 hours of driving, here we come!!
Saturday, July 12, 2008
A Heck of a Run/Hike
How to NOT taper for an extremely difficult (at least to me) 50km:
1. Ride for 5 hours last Sunday
2. Take Monday off due to being wasted (see #1)
3. Drive to Osoyoos for a funeral then come back home at night (with 9 hours on my ass I should be rested, right?)
4. Get decking materials delivered Wednesday and work on it that day plus Thursday
5. Go to the Cultus Lake waterslides on Friday with the kids and make approximately thirty trips up the stairs to get to the slides (good quad workout but not the day before a race)
Things I would change about the week - none.
Yes I've finally admitted that I may have scheduled too many races this year with not enough recovery in between. Most of the 'A' races have been ones that I've never done and I therefore wanted to do well at. However since my shin splint issues I haven't regained my fitness and am having trouble being rested for these events and also to get ready for the next ones.
On that note, the second of three races in six weeks was the Knee Knacker on the North Shore. The way the leaders took off I thought for sure I would see at least a couple of them in a few hours, them having gone out too hard. I never saw them after fifteen minutes. I thought I was taking it easy on the first huge climb up Black Mountain but I felt thrashed halfway up, shades of Bighorn. Once I hit the top there I felt somewhat normal again and puttered through the snowy, muddy forest. Some sections I saw nothing but mud in front of me with a pink ribbon on the other side indicating that that was indeed the route I had to take. Seeing as there were other footprints through the muck I jumped in and across it. It almost took too much effort to look for a way around the stuff.
There was an eventual decent into the Cypress Mountain parking lot aid station but it was short lived as we went into the forest again for a very technical section. My right knee has been bugging me since Bighorn when I run for more than ninety minutes and it acted up around here. Still unsure what it is.
After arriving at the Cleveland Dam we had to make our way up 500m of roadway to the start of the Grouse Grind. There was only a couple hundred metres before we veered right taking a slightly less hilly route up. From about the three hour mark whenever I'd walk a steep section, I made myself run once I reached the top. I figured that if I kept walking when it levelled out these walks would become longer and longer and I'd never finish. I remember getting to the final major aid station and someone saying that there was five miles left with a bit of an uphill included. Then about a half hour later at a road crossing someone said I had four miles to go which couldn't have been right. A third person later said two and a half so I counted on that one being right (hopefully). I'd never run this last section and the steep part in the middle kicked the crap out of me. Then on one of the final downhills I could hear the finishing line announcer and thought I could make my goal of 5:30 having ten minutes to do so. Of course it wasn't to be as there were a couple nice walkable uphills before the final decent into Deep Cove, then a flat section to the finish. I was eight minutes over my goal time but had such a great feeling of accomplishment when it was over.
This is an abridged version of what we saw on the run because it would be too hard to describe all the stream crossings, views, hills, rocks, roots, stairs, volunteers and aid stations we came across. Just to note that it was an amazing experience that I'd love to do again one day.
As a side note Gary Robbins suggested I try Injinji socks to help prevent my toes getting thrashed and blistered. I've used them minimally in the past and on a whim pulled out the only ones I have and gave them a try on race day. I also tried a double taping method of my big and little toes instead of the usual single wrap. Maybe it was the socks or the lack of big toenails but whatever it was my feet survived admirably. The right had a small hotspot but the left had no discomfort whatsoever. I could be on to something here.
As a side note to the side note, Carrie reminded me that she, too, uses Injinji socks and has been trying to persuade me to use them more for quite some time.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Sweet, Bitter, Sweet, Bitter, Sweet, Bitter, Sweet, Bitter, Sweet
On Canada Day, Mike, Ryan, Kevin and I went to run the first half of the Knee Knacker course to familiarize ourselves with it for next Saturday. It was to be a quick 3 - 3.5 hour run along some beautiful trails. It was, as the title suggests, sweet and bitter.
Sweet - Actually getting out on the trails ten days after Bighorn with the feet feeling good again
Bitter - The first huge climb up 3000' in a five km stretch, including scrambling up huge boulders as far as the eye could see
Sweet - Getting to the top of this climb and appreciating the amazing view of Horseshoe Bay and the Gulf Islands
Bitter - Continuing on and running into crazy amounts of snow, sometimes hard-packed and six feet deep in spots, and not
being able to find the trail in between the markers on the trees. Also Ryan going over a bridge, losing hand-held
bottle with car key in the pouch into a river under a patch of snow.
Sweet - Finding Ryan's bottle and key and retrieving it after only fifteen minutes of fishing for it with a stick
Bitter - More snow and finally descending to dry ground but missing the Skyline trail turnoff
Sweet - Getting back onto the trail after a stretch on the road and running back to Cleveland Dam, appreciating this view as
well
Bitter - Heading home after a 4:30 run/hike and finding the Ironworkers Bridge closed due to a distraught teen standing
outside the rails. Waiting for six hours while they tried talking her down
Sweet - Enjoying the sun while waiting, having the police incident end successfully, making it home finally and getting an hour
in of Kick The Can with the neighbourhood kids
As a side note I can confidently state that the record will NOT be falling this year at the Knee Knacker. There's way too much snow to be making time like that.
Sweet - Actually getting out on the trails ten days after Bighorn with the feet feeling good again
Bitter - The first huge climb up 3000' in a five km stretch, including scrambling up huge boulders as far as the eye could see
Sweet - Getting to the top of this climb and appreciating the amazing view of Horseshoe Bay and the Gulf Islands
Bitter - Continuing on and running into crazy amounts of snow, sometimes hard-packed and six feet deep in spots, and not
being able to find the trail in between the markers on the trees. Also Ryan going over a bridge, losing hand-held
bottle with car key in the pouch into a river under a patch of snow.
Sweet - Finding Ryan's bottle and key and retrieving it after only fifteen minutes of fishing for it with a stick
Bitter - More snow and finally descending to dry ground but missing the Skyline trail turnoff
Sweet - Getting back onto the trail after a stretch on the road and running back to Cleveland Dam, appreciating this view as
well
Bitter - Heading home after a 4:30 run/hike and finding the Ironworkers Bridge closed due to a distraught teen standing
outside the rails. Waiting for six hours while they tried talking her down
Sweet - Enjoying the sun while waiting, having the police incident end successfully, making it home finally and getting an hour
in of Kick The Can with the neighbourhood kids
As a side note I can confidently state that the record will NOT be falling this year at the Knee Knacker. There's way too much snow to be making time like that.
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