Life is Like an Ultra...

Race Schedule for 2012

2012-01-15T21:16:00.002-05:00

As I learned halfway through 2011, more is not always better. I took on way too much last year. The money, the logistics, the pressure, the time, and the physical toll over a dozen marathon or longer races was too much. I accomplished a lot, but this year is all about quality, which I hope to get through disciplined training and focusing on one race at a time.

Race Schedule:

Glacier Ridge                                     50 Miles
April 14th 2012
Slippery Rock, PA

Pittsburgh Marathon                          26.2 Miles
May 6th 2012
Pittsburgh, PA

Memorial Day 100                            100 Miles
May 26th 2012
New York, NY

Laurel Ultra                                       70 Miles
June 9th 2012
Ohiopyle, PA

Burning River                                   100 Miles
July 28th 2012
Willoughby Hills, OH

Rock n Roll San Antonio    26.2
November 11th 2012
San Antonio, TX

Looking at this list I'd say I am probably going to end up signing up for more. I would really like a 50K or two, and if I end up moving to San Antonio in the Fall, I would like to acclimate myself to the race scene down there. Any suggestions? Post them in the comments section!

A Year in Review: 2011

2012-01-02T17:23:00.000-05:00

I had high hopes coming into 2011. I made huge strides in my training, drastically altered my diet, and loaded my race schedule. I was looking to have the best year yet in my relatively short running career, and despite some failed goals and a lackluster second half, I believe I did just that. I started off slow, building my base mileage for the first few months and trying out some new strategies. I didn't race until early Spring, giving myself plenty of time to prepare for the arduous schedule I had set for myself.

My first challenge was in March at the Shamrock Marathon in Virginia Beach. I had not run any long distances in preparation, with an ill-conceived disrespect of the distance. In my mind, I thought endurance was all about the runner's mentality, speed was what training produced. While this is true to a certain extent, the logic betrayed me. I ended up running a time that I was neither ashamed of or proud of.

Just two weeks later I would be running another marathon in Xenia, Ohio... not enough time to correct myself completely, but to make progress. I was faster, but still not where I wanted to be. To be completely honest, Xenia never mattered to me, I was focused on my first ultra of the year.

Three weeks after Xenia, I would return to South Western Ohio to see if I could break my 50K PR... the distance I had, up to that point, the least experience at. A rainy Spring forced the race to to be rerouted to a flat alternative. The new course, though not completely flooded like the original, probably had the most mud I have ever had to deal with during a race. The conditions slowed me down, but not enough to stop me from shattering my PR by nearly 30 minutes. I had a blast running that race and it gave me confidence heading into the rest of my schedule.

The first weekend of May I was set to run another 50K, this time in much better conditions, albeit in a much more challenging terrain. It was the Capon Valley 50K in West Virginia. I was not ready for a course this difficult, plain and simple. The hills were steep, the descents were borderline un-runnable, giving a sensation of falling off a cliff face, and the rest of the features came quickly and often. This is hands down the hardest course I have ever run. I was in the best shape I have ever been in for this race and it broke me off. The trip to West Virginia for the race though, has everything to do with the forming of my relationship with Mikayla. Great weekend, absurdly difficult race.

Just a week after Capon Valley I was going to Pittsburgh for the 3rd year straight, not sure what to expect of myself. It was the first marathon of the year that I could really say I was prepared for. My strategy for the race paid off big... in defiance of the rain, what was probably a mild case of hyponatremia, and of some late energy drop-offs, I had a new PR. While I didn't qualify for Boston, or even come close to it, I am a hell of a lot closer than I was before. Pittsburgh will always be an important race to me, it's the city I most closely associate with as being "home" and it was my very first marathon back in 2009.

Next up was the second Memorial Day effort. Just like the year before, the entire idea seemed impossible, but somehow Huffman and the others pulled it off, making it an even bigger success than last year! I didn't play as big of a role as I had hoped I could, but to even be able to run a single mile of that distance would have been an honor. Next year is going to be nuts... stand by for epic.

With Spring turning to Summer I had my biggest challenge coming up quick. The trail that started it all... the reason I run, my holy grail. I had dropped out after just a 19-mile effort in the 2010 installment of the Laurel Ultra... my first ever DNF. This year I knew exactly what I was getting myself into and there was no way I would choose to drop out. Mikayla joined me on the trip after I convinced her to run the race too. The time spent with her that weekend unregrettably shadows over a finish that I am more proud of than any before or since. I finished in 17th place with a time of 17:47:17, on a relatively unmerciful 77-mile run.

Mid-June saw me working a lot of long hours for Jon and Lauren, the trade-off was that I wasn't running a whole lot. Laurel was always such a big deal to me that I think after I finished, I didn't care as much about the rest of the year... looking at every race after June, it certainly wouldn't be hard to come to that conclusion. I did not start at Dawg Gone 50M, at Burning River 100M, at the YUTC 50K... three races in a row... two of which I was almost ensured of new PR's at and the 100-mile being my first ever attempt.

While I do regret not running some of these races, and for my lackluster performances at the races I did run, 2011 would have been a booming success to me if only it had been 6-months long. I started running again, sort of, just in time to run a terrible marathon in Columbus. I was on a PR pace till the half way point, but my head wouldn't let my legs take me any further. I finished, but with my worst time to date for that distance.

A week later I would have yet another DNS for the Marine Corps Marathon. Now I was just focusing on one last race for the year... the Bigfoot 50K. All I was looking for was a finish. Instead, I walked away with a good story and a valid reason to drop. Mikayla probably wishes she hadn't tried to run Bigfoot, but I'll quote Gretzky and say, "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take." I'd rather fail than be timid, when it comes down to it, I think Mikayla would say the same.

So here we are... already into 2012 with only retrospectives to contribute to the year prior. So here are some stats... not all of which I am proud of, but I like numbers.

Races Attempted:    9

Races Finished:       8

Race Make-Up:      4 Marathons (Shamrock, Xenia, Pittsburgh, Columbus)

                             2 50K's (Tie-Dye, Capon Valley)

                                 1 77-Miler (Laurel)

                                 1 8K (Shamrock)

Current PR:            8K:      Shamrock 2011         34:41

                               Marathon:        Pittsburgh 2011     3:28:24

                               50K:                Tie-Dye 2011           5:23:57

                               50M:                Masochist 2009       10:07:35

                               77M:                Laurel 2011              17:47:17

Race Report: 2011 Bigfoot 50K

2011-12-26T21:21:00.000-05:00

Coming into December I looked to close out this year's race schedule with a personal milestone. A year ago this weekend I fulfilled my promise to help my friend Debbie Talbott complete her very first ultramarathon. It ended up being a 7-hour long emotional roller coaster, battling against the snow, freezing temperatures, a torn up mud bog of a trail, and various physical ailments (my injured ankle and Debbie's on-setting stomach flu). I "coached" her to the finish line with success, but as great as this story would have been in and of itself, it has significance for a much different reason.

After the first loop, Debbie and I met up with a friend of hers who also happened to be running her first ultra. Despite being well prepared, her friend decided to trust in the pack strategy, and began to run the race with us. I thought she was cute and on top of that, this cute girl was running an ultra... double hotness points in my book. I was fairly smitten, but couldn't exactly spit game on the trail, so I kept my more flirtatious comments to myself.

Everyone went their separate ways after some post race grilled cheese, but I did get her name. Thanks to the digital world of Facebook, that's all I needed. Her last name wasn't Johnson or Smith, so it made Mikayla Vega an easy girl to track down. I kept in contact with her, running talk became talk about movies, music, books, and then about life... all while I developed a serious crush on a girl that was perfect, but also unavailable. Over the months of talking, getting to know one another and sharing experiences at different races and running adventures, truer feelings prevailed. The girl that I had met through such a random series of events, is now the girl I want to marry and spend my life with. A rough and unorthodox inception that was the start of our relationship together has become something great and brought us back to Lore City, Ohio to run another race. Bigfoot isn't the greatest course, it doesn't stick out in my mind when I think about the dozens of races I have run, but it will always be significant to Mikayla and I. No matter where life ends up taking us, you will know where to find us on the first weekend of every December. So here we are, a year after the chance meeting that changed both of our lives.

As my last few entries would suggest, the second half of 2011 hasn't been kind to me in regards to running success. Going into Bigfoot I was undertrained and injured... not much different than last year. Neither of those issues would prevent me from toeing the start line though. This race had to be run, regardless of the outcome. For Mikayla, she has battled through a tough year and various injuries as well. She was just beginning to build a solid training base coming into this one, but her base so far had been composed of shorter distances on asphalt rather than long distances on trail. She had decided to commit to just the first loop of the course and see how she felt from there, with no expectations of running the whole thing. Given the significance for us as a couple, my strategy was to stay with her the first loop, and then push on, looking only to finish under the cut off. This was a completely feasible plan that was stress free.

We drove from Columbus to Salt Fork on Saturday afternoon, planning on meeting our friends Rachel Nypaver and Steve Hawthorne for dinner at the lodge, the location of which we were also staying, making for an easy 300 yard walk to the starting line the next morning. Rachel was under the weather and ended up being unable to join us, so it turned out to be just the three of us for some carb-loading conversation. After dinner and a single drink (no Marines to incite heavy pre-race partying this time), we made our last minute preparations and went to bed.

Mikayla and I both slept terribly and I was dealing with a cold (that she had passed onto me) all night, but come Sunday morning we were both motivated enough to wake up at 6:30 AM to get ready to kick some trail. As we strolled to the lobby where all the other runners were gathered, we bumped into Steve, this time with Rachel, who had overcome her illness enough to race. It was good to see her feeling better, because it's always a treat to root for someone that is actually going to have a chance at winning the thing. We also saw Nathan Zangmeister, who I had the privilege of talking into running his first 50K back at Tie Dye in April.

The weather was perfect for a run, the day started out in the low 40's and would creep up to the high 50's later in the day, and though it was a bit cloudy at times, it looked like we would escape without getting rained on. The only issue we really were concerned about was what the previous week's weather had done to the trail, and then what Saturday's 10-mile race had contributed on top of that. We expected a warm but very muddy day ahead of us... a far cry from last year when it snowed the entire time and never seemed to get above freezing.

We started out in the parking lot right in front of the lodge, worked toward the trail head as a big pack, and the race was underway. We had a pretty steady pace going in the cool early morning temperatures and within the first five minutes, the congestion that had kept me from ever really getting to sleep the night before, was all over the woods, and I could breathe again. As we entered the loop and hit both our first stream crossing and climb, I was pleasantly surprised at the effort Mikayla was putting forth. I know she is a strong runner but I didn't expect her to be as aggressive as she was. Instead of walking the hill when we got to it, you could audibly detect her grunt of frustration that people were slowing her down. She started passing people on the climb, forcing me to plow off to the side of the trail to keep up with her. The course was muddy, but in good enough condition that it was still fast.

We reached the top of a hill, probably just under 3 miles into the course, where there was a flat and relatively smooth trail along a ridge. I was about two or three steps behind Mikayla when I saw her right ankle turn sharply in. Rolling your ankle is about as commonplace in an ultra as sipping water, but in a split second I knew it was more than just an ankle roll. There was a loud popping noise and she instantly dropped to the ground with a shriek.

I kept running, and as I passed her I yelled back, "See you back at the lodge sweetheart! I have a race to run!"

Just kidding. I think if I tried to run away from her, not even a broken ankle could have stopped her from kicking my ass.

I was on the ground next to her as fast as I could, pulling her off the path so we could see if the injury was as bad as it looked. The runner in front of us tried to stop and help us but we told him to keep running and that we'd okay. The two runners approaching from behind though, would accept no such argument. The two insisted that they were nice people, citing the fact that they were Canadiens as their concrete evidence. They were planning on not running a minute faster than the cut-off, so they had some time to kill with us.

Attending to the wounded!

I removed Mikayla's shoe and sock, which even as careful as I was, proved to be a painful experience for her. You could tell the ankle was already beginning to swell, but without x-rays it's almost impossible to tell a broken ankle from a sprained one. Luca, apparently a french Canadian with an affinity for stuffed animal backpacks, had a plethora of gear stuffed into the likeness of Kermit the Frog, including first aid supplies. He wrapped Mikayla's ankle with a bandage and gave some suggestions on what to do next... but the first step was obvious, get her out of the woods and back to the lodge. Runners were passing us during this entire interaction, but none did so without making sure we had everything under control and that Mikayla was, for all intents and purposes, not in any trouble. Luca and his fellow countrywoman, reluctantly left us to continue on in the race, promising to alert the next aid station of our situation.

Mikayla was in good spirits overall, I had known she was tough, but I had no idea to what extent until this dilemma. At this point she couldn't even stand without my help, let alone walk. We would also quickly find that using me or even a stick as a crutch would end up making the trek back an all day affair. Drawing off one of my favorite punishments that the drill instructors inflicted on me at Parris Island, I decided to use the fireman carry to transport my damsel in distress. We initially took the Canadiens ill conceived advice of going off course to short cut the distance back to the start, charging up a brush covered hill. The first consequence of the decision was courtesy of the mud, expertly hidden by mother nature under a thick layer of fall foliage. I was slipping with every step, my balance already compromised by the full-grown (sort of) human being slung over my shoulders. After a fall, which I was able to break with my knees, but not before dinging Mikayla's injured ankle off the ground, I questioned the decision to leave the trail. The other fear we had was due to the fact that it was hunting season and we could hear gunshots in the distance. The trail was marked and the hunters had been notified to stay away from the course, but we weren't on it anymore. At that realization we decided to hike back down the hill and retrace our steps, but in hindsight there was a third reason our original decision was a poor one... once the race staff was alerted, they certainly wouldn't have been looking for us somewhere that we were never supposed to be.

Never have I been happier that Mikayla
is the size of a 12 year old.

Back on the trail we both rested for a minute and once again tried to see if Mikayla could walk with a makeshift crutch. Still no dice, so she went back over my shoulders once again. I was trucking along, a man on a mission, stopping every so often to give both of us a rest. After a mile or so, we came within view of the loop entrance and stream crossing when we saw what we thought was the lead runner entering his second loop. It turned out to be Vince Rucci instead, the race director. He apologized for his delay in finding us. It turned out that once the report was received from Luca at the aid station that there was an injured runner, there was a miscommunication and the staff had gone there to pick us up. Once we crossed the stream, Vince called back to the lodge to have the park rangers send an ATV for transport.

The plus side of waiting at the beginning of the loop was that we were afforded the opportunity to see the front runners coming through and also be entertained by Vince. We ended up being there long enough to see Rachel, who at the time was battling in 3rd place, Steve who was temporarily ahead of her, Nathan who was on a PR pace, and few other friends we have made over the last few years of our ultrarunning careers.

Posing for a rendition of the
Wounded Warrior Project logo.

We waited there for a relatively long time, getting cold in our now static position. All three of us were getting impatient after several calls were made trying to figure out what was taking the rangers so long to get to our location. After literally an hour or more of waiting, we decided to continue on our own, carrying Mikayla back. If nothing else, it would make us warm. Not more than 5-minutes after we started, Perrin Peacock, who had passed us during the initial incident, was making his way to the completion of his first loop. He insisted on helping, switching off the duty of carrying Mikayla. The help was most welcomed and very appreciated. We now were making great time back to the lodge, without the assistance of the motorized vehicle we had still been hoping would meet us. Vince was apprehensive about helping with the carrying duties... I assume it didn't have anything to do with the fact that he is probably only an inch taller than the person we had to carry, but rather he didn't want to show off his beast strength.

When we got to the base of the last big climb before we hit the pavement where we could get Mikayla into a car, Vince let his pride get the best of him and took a shift. He insisted that using the piggy back method was the most efficient technique and thus carried out his plan. After about 50 yards, he had showed off enough that he decided to let Perrin take the reigns back. After a good haul, I took her again, and we were close enough to the end of the journey that it was time to thank Perrin for his assistance and let him get back to running. The woods turned to muddy grass which bordered the pavement leading to the start. Vince ran ahead to get a vehicle and I waited with Mikayla in the grass.

Our race had ended less than an hour from it's beginning, but the adventure lasted much longer. I certainly wish that Mikayla hadn't gotten hurt and that our day would have played out as we had planned, but I had made good on a promise. In previous events we had done together we had joked about something happening to Mikayla on the trail (more along the lines of an epic animal attack or a rapist puppeteer kidnapping her instead of a broken ankle) and I had told her not to worry, because I would just find her and carry her out of the woods. Though I did have some help from pretty amazing people, I did just that.

Here is a video of the race from Perrin Peacock (Mikayla and I can be seen at 2:27 and 3:42):

We ended up getting back to the lodge a few minutes before the leaders entered their final circuit. Plenty of time for us to get cleaned up, eat something, and see at least some of our friends finish. After carrying Mikayla through the hotel a few times, the staff finally noticed and provided us with a wheelchair, making the rest of our day a hell of a lot easier on my back.

There are a number of races since Laurel that I look back on with disappointment... poor efforts and missed opportunities. This race isn't at all one of them. Sure, I thought it was going to be different. I thought I would at the very least have another 50K finish on my resume, but that day it didn't really matter.

We are still in our 20's, both a decade away from our peak age for ultrarunning. No race is ever the same and expectations must be kept low at all times, because you really never know what could happen out there. Despite how crippling Mikayla's injury is (it turned out to be a severe sprain and a chipped bone), and how extensive the consequences have been, I don't think it would be worth trading the adventure of our day. What I got was a very unique chance to show Mikayla how much I love her, and we both have one hell of a story to tell.

This was to be my final race of 2011, and so that stands. I am currently attempting to get a lower abdomen pain taken care of that I have been ignoring since before Laurel. I suspect I will need surgery to repair a hernia, thus joining Mikayla in an unfortunate situation that prevents either of us from running for a length of time. Both of us have our sights set on Glacier Ridge in April. We plan on being fully healed and adequately trained for a late start in 2012. Mikayla will be attempting her first 50 miler and I will be after a new PR for that distance.

Stay tuned for my 2011 wrap-up blog!

Race Report: MMTR 2011

2011-11-15T21:53:00.000-05:00

Apparently my body and mind thinks that the 2011 race season was only 6-months long. After posting some solid efforts in the early months, I went on a tear, shattering personal records and completing new distances that were previously beyond my reach. The pinnacle of my year was the Laurel Ultra, where in June I placed in the top 20. Laurel is a race that I failed to finish the year prior, but it's also the race that is essentially the reason I run ultras. After being atop that mountain (quite literally), I apparently made the unconscious decision to put on a suck-fest of performances and non-performances for my remaining races. Sure, I was overly ambitious with my crowded race schedule, but my failures since June are really starting to piss me off. A few were poorly thought out decisions not to run, a few were the result of last minute cold feet, and the rest were just terrible showings that I would never have expected of myself.

It started with the Dawg Gone Long Run 50-miler that I failed to find the starting line to... no big deal, it was a low key, cheap race, that was supposed to be more of a prep race for Burning River than anything else. At least that one wasn't my fault, but then when Burning River came along, despite being just hundreds of feet from the starting line on the morning of, I decided not to run at literally the last minute. Sure I was undertrained and nervous to go for my first buckle, but to be there and not even get out of the car? Shameful. Next on the docket was the YUTC 50K, which I skipped so I could pick up just 4-hours at work. That seems acceptable, but for half of a shift I missed a really good chance to better my 50k PR. Then in Columbus, where I fully expected to beat my marathon PR from Pittsburgh, I ended up running my slowest marathon to date (outside of the one where I pulled my groin a few years back). After a great 13.1, I just collapsed mentally and really gave up long before my body. Then there was the Marine Corps Marathon just a week later... no expectations or time goals even involved because we were running as a team to raise money for Semper Fidelis Health and Wellness. All I had to do was finish... easy, right? Well it may have been, except for the fact that I went out to the bar the night before with some of the other Marines, drank too much, and woke up the next morning 30-minutes after the start, never even making it to the starting line. What was happening to me? What IS happening to me?

All my chips were in for the Masochist. 50-miles was the only distance I had left this year without a new PR attached to it. The MMTR is a course I know well, and despite being undertrained as always, I was still in better shape going in than each of the previous years I had finished. It was a sure shot. Redemption for all the missed opportunities since June, just one race away... or so I had hoped.

The severe lack of training might seem like a big deal except that my best Masochist was ran without any miles in the two months leading up to it and I was smoking about a pack a day at the time (I actually was smoking a cigarette with my brother at the starting line). I wasn't confident in good training as much as I was confident that I had trained more than the last two years.

My good friend and fellow Masochist alumni, David Emch, volunteered to crew for me, which was particularly helpful since my favorite sidekick, Mikayla, couldn't make the trip because of work. I did everything right the day before. We got to Lynchburg early enough for me to hydrate and do some last minute carb-loading at Olive Garden, get all my gear and supplies prepped, a plan in place for David to assist me, and I actually had a fair amount of rest. I don't always prep for races so efficiently, but when I do, it certainly reduces my stress level going into the event. I felt good and was certain this was where things would turn back around.

Waking up at 4am, I had the typical race morning butterflies, but everything was smooth. I woke up with more than enough time to eat something small, get a coffee, and get to the race start with an hour to spare. It was a chilly morning with the temperature just around 32 degrees, but not so cold that running wouldn't warm me up. I chose my place in the middle of the pack as the clock neared 6:30am. My plan was to resist the temptation of running the opening road section too fast. I kept an easy pace and though everything in me wanted to run them, I walked the hills. Running down to the first aid station where the course finally heads to the trail just as the sun was coming up, I was excited to kick some dirt. Knowing my tendency to go out too fast and to trash my quads on the descents, I was extremely conservative. I wanted all the energy I could save for the two major climbs on the course. The plan was to play it safe until after Long Mountain and then shift gears to hopefully run a negative split for the second half of the race.

Plumbing issue at the hotel, everyone went to a nearby
construction site to use the port-a-potties.

I was passing a fair amount of runners and moving up in the field, but I knew I was still going slower than in years past. Even though I was sticking to my plan, I hated it. Typically I latch on to groups of runners and piggy back off their pace until I find a better group, only straying when I know they are holding me back or going faster than I feel comfortable with. Going out as timidly as I did, I never found a group of runners that I could gauge well. As much as I know about racing at this point, I should rethink this strategy. It works out with marathons, because they are regulated, sterile, and have guaranteed pace groups. In an ultra, there are too many variables... in the course, in the runner, in everything.

Using my mix of water, chia seeds, and maca powder, I was staying well hydrated and didn't have much muscle fatigue or other body issues for the first 14 miles. When I saw David at an aid station, I asked, "I'm going a bit slow huh?" His reply was, "Just a little bit. Just be consistent." Lingering at aid stations is never part of my planning unless it's for a gear issue, so I quickly headed back out, knowing I would soon reach the first big climb with Long Mountain.

Long Mountain is basically a gigantic switchback that brings you up about a thousand feet. You're running up a gravel road, trying to get to what you think is the top. When you get there the road turns... and keeps going up. This happens enough times that you begin to believe God is playing a cruel trick on you. It's not so much steep as it is just long. You can, and almost have to, run sections of this to make it bearable. In years past I have always navigated this section poorly, not running nearly enough. This time around I was planning on strict 40/20 intervals, so I would end up running at least 2/3 of the climb. This worked until the first bend when I began to notice some pain in my left ankle when I would push off. General ankle pain is no big deal, if you're running long distances over uneven terrain, there is a high probability that your body isn't going to like it, and tweaking your ankle a bit along the way isn't at all uncommon. This pain was different though and it was also familiar.

Just in case you were wondering why they
call it the Masochist.

Last year the day after the Masochist my right ankle swelled up and ached like I had ninja kicked a brick wall. I hadn't remembered anything in particular that I had done to injure it during the race, but nevertheless, there I was with a bum ankle. After taking a break from running, icing it, and popping some ibuprofen twice a day the pain persisted. I eventually went to the doctor who suggested that it may be a hairline fracture. They fixed me up with a brace, some painkillers, and a command to not run on it for at least 6 weeks. The only problem with not running for 6-weeks, other than the fact I am hard headed and would probably do it anyhow, was that I had planned on helping my friend Debbie complete her first ultra just 3 weeks after the Masochist. It should go without saying that I ended up running a 50K on the very much still injured ankle. It was a bad choice for my ankle, but considering that I met Mikayla there and that I helped birth a new ultra runner getting Debbie across the finish line, I would do it again. I certainly slowed the healing, but my ankle was better by the time my first race of 2011 came around.

Now, a year removed from the original injury, it came back to haunt me. I was in a good deal of pain, trying to alter my stride to negate any amount of it that I could, but I was repeatedly reduced to a less than brisk walking pace. Now instead of moving up in the field, I was drifting further and further back. People, that I at one point probably had at least a 30-minute lead on, were catching me. I hoped to just make it to the top of the mountain so I could reassess the situation, pop a few painkillers, and if I were to be dealt a new set of cards I would try and make some money on the descent to the half way point.

I wasn't in the best of spirits when I reached my self created checkpoint. An ultra virgin, Hollie, who I noticed was struggling with me on the climb asked me where the next aid station was. I told her, knowing, by the look on her face, that she would be dropping out at the half way point. On the way down the back side of Long Mountain my ankle was much worse than on the way up. If the painkillers did anything for me, I certainly hadn't noticed. I started out working the downhill like it was business as usual, but it wasn't long until I realized it was anything but that. Hollie, who I had passed initially, caught up to me again. I started asking her about her running resume, and telling her about some of my experiences on this course and others, thinking maybe it would give her the drive to keep going on after the bag drop. I never brought up my suspicions that she wanted to drop, but I was beginning to share that unspoken thought. I was having a hell of a time keeping up with her, even though she was probably experiencing a new darkness that was probably unfamiliar to her based upon her previous running adventures. Then what was disheartening for both of us, was the onslaught of runners speeding past. My only goal now was to make it to the buses where I knew David would be. Any decision to be made could wait until then, and even though I was falling back, the generous cut-off time would give me a nice chunk of time to weigh my situation.

When the road started to wind through farmland and I could see houses up ahead, I knew I was close to the valley floor between Long and Buck Mountains, but more importantly, the half way mark. Closing in on the last half mile, I saw David running up the road to me. He knew something was wrong, because we both were expecting me a whole lot sooner than I arrived. I sat down in the grass, started to change out my wet socks for dry ones and wrap a brace on my ankle, while David retrieved a handful of Pringles and some Mountain Dew for me. He was all about speed of service and getting me back on hunt, but I was mulling over the heavy decision to either drop right then, or see how far my bum ankle could carry me up Buck Mountain. I told him what I was thinking, embarrassed that the thoughts in my head had become words spoken. I decided to drop. David got up to tell the race official, but I stopped him. I still had time enough to reverse my decision if I wanted to. Several minutes passed in silence until Hollie came over, already changed over to normal clothes to tell me good luck. Her race was already over, and mine was about to be. I got up and walked over to the official to tell him I was dropping out.

My day was done, after less than 5 hours on the course. There were plenty of people still out there though, plugging away at the miles of trail ahead, no one had finished yet. I checked with David to see where the leaders were, and then we double checked with the official to get the best estimate of who was where. Not to my surprise at all, fellow Ohian and friend, Sandi Nypaver had a big lead in the women's race, with some thinking she had a shot at the course record. Eric Grossman was leading a tight pack of the guys, who were at the time, somewhere on the Loop. With my DNF already cemented in place, the new race was to get to the finish line in time to see the winners.

We arrived in Montebello in a much different fashion than I had wanted, in my car rather than on foot. None of the other drops had come to the finish line yet, so when I went into the general store near the finish line I had to begrudgingly explain to a number of spectators that no, I hadn't broken Geoff Roes's course record. I briefly spoke to Clark Zealand, who was setting up the time clock, making a promise that I would return to Virginia and someday have a performance there that I would be proud of. I also finally got the chance to meet Shaun Pope, who I have admiringly (and jealously) watched from afar as he has smashed course records all over the Ohio ultrarunning circuit.

Eric Grossman, getting better with age.

We had gotten there with plenty of time, but didn't have to wait terribly long before Eric Grossman came flying down the road for his 7th Masochist finish and 3rd win with a time of 6:58:22! Hot on his trail though was Brian Rusiecki at 6:59:34. Both runners are now top-10 all time finishers for the Masochist. Even though I didn't get to finish my 3rd MMTR, it was awesome to see people finish that I will probably always be behind. David and I were sticking around to see if Sandi could hold her lead. She made us wait a little longer than I had wanted (I was hoping she would get the course record) coming across the line 12th overall, winning the women's race, and securing the 5th fastest MMTR time by a woman with 8:05:11!

Sandi, rockstarring it to the finish line!

Of course looking back to last weekend, I wish things had played out differently, I wish I would have been able to finish, and wish that I had been able to get a new PR. What I need to remind myself though is that I had a great race season overall, with great memories and great people. Even with all the mishaps in the second half, it all adds to my experience and will make me a better runner and a better person. The title of this blog is, "Life is Like an Ultra" because the highs and lows and the pain and elation that come with both. This years Masochist was certainly a low, but my race isn't over, not by a long shot. On to the next one gents!

Race Report: The 2011 Nationwide Insurance Columbus Marathon

2011-10-20T21:45:00.000-04:00

The Background

By far the easiest course of any race I have ever run, I signed up for the 2011 edition of the Columbus Marathon with self imposed expectation. Last year was my first time running a race on my home turf, and though I was undertrained, I unexpectedly ran what was then my fastest marathon time to date. (I later improved in Pittsburgh.) It was a great experience, full of familiar faces, running on streets that I see every day. Racing a location you are familiar with and have trained in makes the whole run so personal and emotional that you fall back in love with the same streets you have grown weary of. I cannot tell you how many miles of running I have done on High Street, but I'm certain it's close to a thousand. Running that same route with thousands of other runners and cheering crowds rejuvenates you whether you want it to or not. Coming to those realizations last October birthed more romanticized notions within me than I ever thought possible in respect to a road race. So with all that said, I was looking for something special with this year's outing.

Traditionally, my training falls apart around the end of June and doesn't show much promise until mid-September. I tried to counter that this year by loading my race schedule, thinking that I wouldn't slack off when I always had another race around the corner. I was wrong. I missed 3 races that I had signed up for, a 50K, a 50-miler, and what was to be my first 100-miler, Burning River. The problem though, was not just that I wasn't racing, I wasn't running at all.

Yeah... about that.

Those 44 miles in September had me hopeful though. I hadn't gained any weight, I was still at a relatively high level of fitness, and I was still just as fast as I was earlier in the year in my short mileage. Though I often gawk at 26.2 miles because I am an ultra guy, I sure as hell don't consider that to be short mileage, so there was a little worry over my endurance.

On top of my drop off in training for this race, I also dropped the ball for the charity I had agreed to play a major role with for this year. I had unwisely taken on a responsibility that I ended up not being able to fulfill with Susan G Komen. Starting out strong with grandiose and what I thought were innovative ideas, they all fell apart. Like most great things do, our Marathon for the Cure team survived despite my failures, and I do believe it ended up being one of the more successful years. This had little to do with me, and much more to do with individuals stepping up to the challenge, none of which I am more proud of than my friend Debbie Talbott who as the #2 fundraiser, raised $1,450 of the total $17,902!

Despite my shortcomings for the team, my involvement with Komen did do two very important things for me personally. The first is that I was able to honor my Mom, who is currently battling Stage 4 cancer, by naming a mile marker of the marathon after her. The second was that my involvement was enough to lure my parents out of Pennsylvania to pay their first visit to Columbus.

So to summarize... my late training had enough quality to give me hope but it was not extensive enough to give me complete confidence. In the realm of my charity work for this event, I felt like an utter failure, and to be completely honest I couldn't wait for this marathon to be over so I could stop feeling guilty about it. However the biggest thing for me was my parents. They have never seen me run, not even in high school track. I, despite all my independence, desire their approval and want them to be proud of the things I do. I had quite a few heated conversations with my Dad trying to convince him to make the trip here to see me run and having convinced them, I wanted this race to be perfect.

Race Eve

Friday afternoon and Saturday morning I was slotted to cover the Komen booth at the marathon expo. I was planning on my parents to arrive mid-afternoon on Saturday, expecting to have time between my obligations and their arrival to clean up the apartment. They called me at 11:15 AM saying they were 10-minutes from my place. I was supposed to be at the booth till Noon. This had me in a panic, because there was no way I could beat them home even with leaving the expo when they called. I phoned Mikayla who was also anticipating a bit more time to get ready, which sent her into a frenzied last minute preparation while I doubled the speed limit through residential Columbus.

The photo enforced red light on N 4th St and Chittenden
took this picture on my way home. Luckily they didn't get a good
picture of my license plate.

My parents came hungry and wanted to get a taste of the fine selection of cuisine we have here in the big city, so we took them to Bob Evans. After lunch I was planning on taking my parents around the city, taking them on a brief tour with the specific intention of showing them where they could watch the marathon. My Mom, who as I mentioned is battling cancer, became extremely sick due to some recent changes in her medication and treatment, so the tour was cut short and we took her back to the hotel to get some rest. Our intention was to meet back up later for dinner, but she wasn't well enough to go out again. We all hoped that she would be well enough by morning that she would be able to go to the race, but my Dad called me late that night to tell me they would head back that night because she was getting worse. There was no argument to be made with her fragility and poor health clearly on display to Mikayla and I earlier in the day, but I was certainly disappointed. I stopped caring as much about the race almost instantly. I had just a small amount of motivation to perform well and now it was on it's way back to Pennsylvania with my parents. I went to sleep early, planning on getting to the start line well before the gun at 7:30 AM the next morning.

I woke up the next morning feeling pretty fresh compared to most race mornings... my typical pre race night involves one too many gin and tonics and sleeping for 3 hours in a tent. After getting my gear together and making sure my water and chia gel was all topped off, Mikayla drove me downtown as close as we could get without being in a mess of traffic. This was the third time Mikayla has been with me during the final moments leading up to a race and I couldn't ask for a better person to see me off. She makes me feel like a better runner and a better person than I actually am, and that morning I needed it more than ever. We made plans for meeting up at the finish, and I jogged down the street to the starting line to join the 20,000 runners on East Broad Street. Somehow Adrienne Anderson, ended up next to me in the corral, just as she did in Pittsburgh. It's always good to see someone I know at marathons, because the crowd is typically so large, you have an awkward sensation of being lonely in a crowd. Yet another reason I prefer ultras over marathons.

By the time the gun had gone off, I had decided I was going for a 3:20 right out of the gate. I had nothing to lose anyhow. As I dodged slower runners, I found the 3:25 pace group and settled into my stride with them. My plan at the time was to stay with that group until I either couldn't maintain the pace or I hit mile 18 where I would pick up speed if I had any left. The trek down East Broad into Bexley brought back memories of the year prior, and the familiarity made the running more comfortable. As we wound are way into German Village I thought back to how I ran into my friend Tad at mile 9 in 2010 and how that was basically the sole reason I ran a PR. I was hoping to run into some familiar face to give me a similar boost, but I would have to wait. As we turned onto South High I felt alone, more of me was in my mind than on the street. In ultras being in that kind of pattern can ruin your race, it had never happened to me during a marathon until then, but apparently it can ruin them as well. I noticed my thoughts creeping to negative things and in an attempt to stop the process I struck up a conversation with a man who I noticed was wearing a Green Jewel 50K shirt... a fellow ultra guy. I was looking for some happy thoughts, but by no fault of his, I found the opposite. We started talking about how much we hate running marathons, road races, going this fast, not having junk food at the aid stations. Then his conclusion was the death blow to my motivation... "All these things are just training runs man, just really expensive group training runs." With the Masochist looming in November, my spirits down, and nothing to really run with my heart for, I almost decided to take the turn with the half marathoners and call it quits.

At that point I was still on pace to crush my PR, averaging 7:47/mile but I didn't have it in me to go much further at the kind of pace. When we reached the corner of 9th and High where I had lived for the last two years, I stopped running, it was just before mile 15. I walked two blocks before running again. As we ran through campus I deflated. I wouldn't even make it a mile at a time without stopping again. The mile marker named after my Mom was supposed to be the 18th, right at my proverbial and infamous "wall". I had less than 3 miles to get to that point. I wasn't willing to run a completely bum marathon just yet. I was telling myself I would be happy with a 3:45. I alternated running and walking, planning on going back to a solid effort for the last 8.2 miles.

On campus I ran into Mike Patton whom I first met last December when we ran through Columbus together during the Nypaver's "I Believe" run. We have seen each other at various races since and I know how much faster he is than me, so I was surprised to see him all the back where I was. He was helping his brother finish his first marathon since a surgery, which explained his slower than normal pace. I started to run more to keep him in eye sight. I could make something of this marathon yet, I was getting motivated!

Then as the course turned onto John Herrick, I knew mile 18 was soon. This was where my parents had planned on seeing me, right at the mile marker that bore my Mom's name. I saw the marker ahead, too far away to read yet. As I drew closer, running faster as it came into view, my jaw dropped. It wasn't named after my Mom. I had switched markers with someone who was running the half marathon and I suddenly was angry. They hadn't made the switch. I passed the marker with her name without a thought or notice, expecting it much later. I was angry. I stopped running. I didn't care about anything now. I almost ran to my house, which at this point was a hell of a lot closer than the finish line.

Some of the rational thoughts in my mind prevailed. Why not just finish? Just another marathon finish to add to my credentials, who cares what time the finish is. I ran/walked again, not really putting forth any amount of effort. When I got to mile 22 I instantly regretted my defeatist mindset... the marker had my Mom's name on it. I was glad I wasn't walking when I saw it, but I wished I had gotten there about 40-minutes sooner than I had. My quads weren't cooperating with my complete will, but as long as they weren't locked up I was running the rest of the way.

As I had gone along I was passed by each pace group... first was 3:35, then 3:45. I had no intention of running anything slower than a 4-hour marathon, so I just ran a comfortable pace thinking if 3:55 caught me, I would suck it up and finish with them. I made it to Victorian Village just a few miles shy of the finish line when the 4:00 pacers caught me. There was no 3:55 group. I took off again to stay ahead. The walking had my legs tight, so I wasn't setting any records, but I was staying ahead of the 4-hour group. When I crossed the finish line and saw my time, I realized the pacers were off. I finished ahead of them, but not faster than 4-hours. I checked in with my second worst marathon performance to date: 4:01:04

It wasn't my day, that's for certain. Even if I had put in the training I should have, I'm not sure my mind would have been sound enough for a 3:20 finish. Stoic as I can be sometimes, having my parents so close to seeing me run, and then not being able to, took its toll. I hope my Mom is well enough some day to see me do what I love, but until then I need to refocus my running and do it because it's truly a passion. I run for a lot of reasons, sometimes differing from race to race, training run to training run, but I never knew how much an audience of just two people meant to me.

The day was not wasted by any means. I ran a solid 15 miles at a faster pace than I have ever run that distance. I struggled in my mind for 11 miles more intensely than ever before and made it through. I was a small part of a great team that raised almost $18K for breast cancer research. Despite them not being able to see me run, I saw that my parents cared enough about what I do to make the effort of coming to Columbus with the intention of supporting me. I saw how supportive Mikayla is of me, despite my performance, being there for me (and my Mom) the whole weekend. I got to meet some cool people and be on the course for some my friends who put up great times. David outpaced me for a new marathon PR of 3:58 and Debbie shattered her previous best by running a 4:13!

I finish out the year with three more races. The Marine Corps Marathon on the 30th, the Masochist on November 6th where I will be looking to PR at the 50-mile distance, and then the Bigfoot 50K where last year I met the girl I'm in love with!

The Race That Never Was

2011-07-09T20:10:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago when I was fresh off my first finish of the Laurel Ultra I saw Burning River looming in the distance, with a longer gap in my race schedule than I've had all year. I couldn't resist the temptation of a local (and cheap) 50 miler at Caesar's Creek State Park to quench my appetite, so I signed up for the Dawg Gone Long Run that was to take place this morning.

I didn't get off work till 11PM last night and with the race taking place an hour and a half from Columbus, this left me little time to sleep. After getting home and making some chia gel I racked out and set my alarm for 4:30AM. The park was a straight shot down I-71 South and not at all hard to get to. I arrived on sight just before 6AM, with plenty of time to find where we'd be stepping off (or so I thought). I figured I would see signs, ribbons, or something of that nature once I got close, so I played my cards on the fly.

Yeah, some balloons and an arrow
would have been nice.

I followed my GPS directions, which took me to a place that looked like the site where one of the Friday the 13th movies were filmed. It was a single lane dirt road with overgrown trees leading me to a rusty fence that had a bunch of faded warning signs telling me I was trespassing. I wasn't too worried, after all, I still had 30 minutes to spare. Mikayla called me around that time to try to weasel her way out of running the race, which I wasn't going to let her do, but she was also in the area, just as lost as I was. I then looked up the race website for some clarification and used the exact coordinates on the page to plug into my phone. It said that I was only 5-minutes away, not bad, I could find it and then guide Mikayla in once I was there.

I asked one of the locals for directions,
but all this asshole did was stare at me.

The new directions took me to a random spot on the side of the highway, no one in sight, runners or otherwise. I started going down random roads that led to different parts of the park, but to no avail. It became apparent that I wasn't going to make it to the start in time and Mikayla's less than stellar navigational skills weren't serving her any better. Even after the clock struck 6:30AM I spent another 10 minutes searching without any sign of hope.

Mikayla didn't really want to run in the first place and to be honest, I wasn't overly excited to do it either. This wasn't the Masochist, Laurel, or some other big race... it was just some junk miles to lead into Burning River. We decided we were done searching and went to McDonalds instead.

I went to the bathroom and came
out to this. Mikayla has a thing
for clowns I guess?

Race Report: Laurel Highlands Ultra 2011

2011-06-26T11:43:00.000-04:00

A Score to Settle

Several weeks before I ran this year's installment of the Laurel Ultra I was having a conversation with one of my friends who has, by my estimation, suffered my acquaintance many more years than most. I feel like I have known Hannah forever, which at my 25-years, equates to about a decade. We were talking about the upcoming race because her husband Ned, who happens to be one of my best friends, was planning on pacing me for one of the latter sections of the course. She made a statement of fact that I was well aware of, but it encompassed with a great degree of clarity, just how important finishing this race was to me. She said, "You've been wanting to do this since I've known you." She was right.

I grew up in Western Pennsylvania, not very far from the Laurel Highlands, and it was a rare weekend in the Summer that you wouldn't find me hiking a trail or camping somewhere. I love the outdoors, I love physical challenges, and I love the opportunities I had in the area I grew up to exploit those passions. I first thru-hiked the Laurel Highlands Hiking Trail as a senior in high school, completing the 70 miles with my friend Alec in just 3-days. At the time, I would have already considered myself a runner, often taking to the roads and trails around my house as well as being on the track team at school. What I didn't know was that there was such a such thing as an ultramarathon, it didn't even occur to me that people would attempt to run anything further than 26.2 miles, because in my mind it just seemed impossible. So when Alec and I finished our hike, proud of how fast we had done the distance, I was shocked to learn about the Laurel Ultra that takes place on the same trail... not only shocked but intrigued. I knew pretty much from the moment I had heard of it, that I wanted to do it. I became obsessed with trail running and ultras, haphazardly beginning training for something I had only a vague concept of. My decision to join the Marine Corps and then my subsequent life choices derailed my dream for literally years, until 2010 when I finally decided to give it a go.

Last year's effort was a terrible affair. I was grossly undertrained, somewhat injured, and almost completely unmotivated. I went in with doubt and came out defeated, dropping at the very first checkpoint, mile 19. The race that is my reason for running ultras, the race that is my personal Holy Grail, the one I had always dreamed of being able to run, became my very first DNF. I was upset and angry, but had no one to really fault outside of myself. In conversations with other people and even in my own thoughts, I have blamed it on the exceedingly hot weather that day, blamed it on my stomach issues during the race, and pointed to the 50% finishing rate and the elevation gains in the first 19 miles as excuses for failing. All of that is garbage though. I was simply overconfident and didn't train enough. The course I knew so well from hiking it so many times, kicked my ass fair and square, just like a bully in elementary school.

Read last years race report here!

This year was different, I feared this race and never fully believed with any certainty that I could actually pull it off. So I trained. Every race I scheduled this year was meant to minimize down time where I would normally be tempted to laziness. I logged more miles of racing and more miles of trail in the first 6 months of this year than the last two put together. I completely changed my diet so that I could become more efficient for longer distances and recover faster so that I could run more often. I studied the course, read books on running, and talked to people who are better and more experienced than me.

If I was going to fail this time, I wouldn't let it be for a lack of preparation. I joked (just kidding, I was serious) that the only way I was leaving the course before the finish line would be in the back of an ambulance or in a life flight helicopter. Last years failure became the driving force to what I hoped would be this years success.

The Lead In

Because misery loves company, I had been trying to convince several of my friends to attempt Laurel with me pretty much since last year. During all that time I couldn't find a single person willing to dance with the devil until a few months ago, when I coaxed my good friend and frequent partner in crime, Mikayla, into signing up. I was actually a bit worried that she actually agreed to it, remembering how badly it had broken me off the year prior, but if anyone I know could pull it off on sheer bad-assery it would be her. She has run some pretty serious terrain and finished races when she probably should have been resting injuries. See The Capon Valley Race Report* I really admire her determination and passion for ultra running and think that she can be all legit-like one day if she keeps at it (and I know she will).

This is pretty much what she looked like.

We left Columbus the day prior to the race, headed towards my hometown of Indiana, PA. I was planning on making the trip as leisurely as possible, giving us plenty of time to get settled in and make last minute preparations for race day. It's a good thing I gave us the extra time, because my counterpart's disgusting habit of chewing tobacco caused her to get violently sick, throwing up out of the window of my moving car. Not only did the vomit streak down the side of my vehicle, forcing us to stop at a car wash, but it also hit the windshield of the car behind us, nearly causing a crash. Add this to the reasons I oft regret being friends with West Virginians! After spending a few hours at my sisters house, visiting her and her family, we finally had to leave because the children were terrified of Mikayla. I don't ever recall seeing a midget as a child, but I'm certain that had such an event taken place, I would have been traumatized forever, so their fear was understandable.

We traveled to the neighboring city of Johnstown, PA which is very close to where the race would end, for the pre-race dinner and briefing. Getting there an hour early provided me the opportunity to hit up a bar that was adjacent to the restaurant so that I could get my usual pre-race gin and tonic. The server promptly filled my order, but Mikayla's fake ID that says she is 26 didn't fly and they refused her alcohol. She has been lying to me about her age since we met, but in my judgement I don't think she is a day past 13. Her true age explains why she isn't yet aware of her "cycle" that resulted in my car needing to be steam cleaned after the last road trip.

Runners began to show up for the meeting, so shortly after my close call to being cited for contributing to the delinquency of a minor, we headed next door. It was there that we ran into Donnie, a really great guy who we had met a month earlier at the Capon Valley race. We had had several conversations with him there about ultrarunning and specifically Laurel, which he was volunteering at. Mikayla and I had talked in between then and Laurel about how Donnie was the guy who we really wanted to see during the race, because he was in charge of the final aid station. Make it to him at Laurel and the deal would be all but sealed. We met some other runners too and had some casual conversations as a side to our pasta dinner. Some of the items addressed in the briefing were a bit disconcerting to Mikayla, particularly bear and rattlesnake sightings. Last time I ran into a bear I was at Union and I woke up the next morning with a phone number on a note in my pocket that said, "Call me anytime to come over for cigars and cocktails!" I made it through that encounter with success, so I wasn't worried about it for the race, I just wondered why they would be out of their natural habitat. Out of the new people we met that night, two stick out in my memory. One was 67-year old Gary Knipling, who is older than my grandparents. Looking at his profile on UltraSignUp.com, it looks like he has logged more miles in ultramarathons alone than if you took all of my training and races together from my entire life and quadrupled it. This guy, who is a senior citizen, was bouncing off the walls at the pre race dinner, excited to complete the Laurel for the second time in his life to add to the dozens upon dozens of races he has finished. He is now one of my personal heroes and I can't help to hope that when I approach age 70 that I'll still be kicking trail and making guys a third of my age look like wimps. The second memorable encounter was with a man we were sitting at the table with during dinner, who was taking great pride in being the very last finisher in the 2010 race. I dropped out that same day, so I wasn't about to mock his achievement, but being the last finisher wasn't the incredible part of his story. The incredible part was that he had suffered a massive heart attack before that race and his concern wasn't so much about his health as it was to finish the race again. These are the kind of people who run these things and I'm glad to be among them, with ultras, everyone has a story to tell, but these guys were freaking epic.

After the briefing, Mikayla and I decided we would camp at the finish line and take the 3:30 AM shuttle to the start line. Everyone else who showed up to stay the night had trucks or SUV's that they were bedding down in. There was some question as to whether we were allowed to set up tents right there and we were the only ones that had the plan of pitching down, so in our nervousness of not wanting to be thwarted by a park ranger we waited till nightfall to stake in. We spent the remaining daylight prepping our gear for the morning so we would have to spend as little time as possible getting ready when the bus came. By the time we had everything ready and our shelter was set up, it was past 11. This meant we only had a handful of hours to rest. As we struggled to fall asleep, the weather turned and a nasty thunderstorm hit us head on. The sound inside the tent was booming and water started to seep in on the floor. For me this was all part of the adventure, because what kind of ultra would this be if I got the proper amount of sleep?

Not quite this bad, but close.

Our alarms went off just before 3am and it was still pouring down outside. After some initial hesitation of braving the storm we both got up, changed into our race clothes, and tore down camp. The area became busy with runners who had stayed elsewhere coming into drop off their cars and get on the shuttle bus. We got onto the dark school bus for the hour and some change ride to Ohiopyle, which invoked memories of riding the bus to school growing up. My family lived on the edge of the school district line so it was always dark when I would catch the bus. Mikayla and I naturally posted up in the very back, because that's where the cool kids sit. It was unfortunate though because instead of catching a little extra sleep I had to endure the conversation of a coastie sitting in front of me who was apparently trying to pick up the chick across the aisle. No disrespect meant, but talking about your deployment with the Coast Guard like it was a scene from Black Hawk Down is a little far fetched. Nevertheless I would have been thoroughly impressed if his efforts to get the girls number were successful. I would make a joke about the Coast Guard at this point, but I don't know any because they don't even rate a rivalry. Another guy sitting near us on the bus asked Mikayla and I if we were nervous because he had noticed "an exchange of cutting glances" between us at the dinner. I don't remember doing this but it was probably true. I don't think it was nervousness though, I was probably waiting for her to somehow force our departure from the dinner like she did when she scared my sister's kids and later got us kicked out of the bar for her fake ID.

Once we arrived at the race start I almost felt like a celebrity. A man whom I've never seen in my life came up to us and was like, "Wait... aren't you Joe Shearer???" My response was, "Why yes, yes I am." Then he accused me of ignoring his messages on Twitter, but with such a large fan base how could I possibly respond to every message? I then signed his chest with a sharpie and took some photos shaking his hand. After that we staged our drop bags, took advantage of some coffee and donuts at the table and made a last minute check on our gear. During this time we saw the mythical figure that I put on par with unicorns... "Gatorade Man". Last year when I had gone balls to the wall in the opening 19 miles I was repeatedly trading spots with a slightly husky man wearing a pair of basketball shorts, beat up road shoes, and tube socks. He started the race shirtless and the only accessories he carried were two full size bottles of Gatorade. Despite his atypical appearance, this man was a freaking beast on the trail, going up steep climbs looked like he was running on an escalator.

To be filed with with my extensive collection
of photos of Big Foot and the Loch Ness Monster.

The Run Down

Time wound down, a prayer was said by the race director, then the start was signaled and we were off. After a very short run on the road we bounded into the woods. I was tempted to jet ahead with the lead pack, but I knew better than to do that after going out so fast last year. To force myself to be conservative, I joined a small group of runners who had a nice slow pace and were strictly walking hills. If I could just get through the massive climbs in the beginning of the course, the rest would be pretty much runnable, all I'd have to do then is put it on cruise control for the rest of the day. The pack I teamed up with was being paced by Jamie Summerlin, a fellow Marine who is also running Burning River next month. I was really glad to meet the guy because now I'm getting really excited about the possibility of joining him for part of a transcontinental run from Oregon to Maryland that he is doing to raise money for the Wounded Warrior Project, a charity that I have also done quite a bit of work for in the past. To check out his plan visit http://www.runforwwp.com

I kept pace with the group despite often thinking of leaving them behind when we would come to a downhill stretch where I could have exploited my strengths a little more. I did this because I was avoiding being overzealous and I have read more than one account of runners storming down hills only to find themselves with trashed quads later on.

My original plan for nutrition and hydration was to eat a gel every 45 minutes for the duration of the race along with two Endurolyte capsules, drinking water as needed and using a gel mixture of water, chia seeds, and goji berries (I call it hippie water) as a backup. When it came time for the strategy to be implemented for the first time I was disgusted by the thought of eating a gel, so I did a shot of my hippie water instead. Several of my gels that I had safety pinned to my hydration belt were ripped off on the trail, so I saw it as a sign for change.

Heading into the first aid station at Maple Summit (11.6 Miles) all I needed was a refill on water. I thought that Jamie had left before me, so my goal was to catch back up to him. Little did I know I had actually left first so I was chasing someone who I wasn't going to catch. After a short time I caught up to two runners who I then decided to pace off of. They were talking to each other as I approached from behind and by their conversation topic I started to wonder if I was going too fast again. They were talking about some pretty serious ultras they had run, one mentioned how he was shooting for 16 hours for this race, and the other relayed a comment his daughter made to him before the race. "Daddy are you going to finish in the top 25?" His answer? "Yes sweetheart, I always finish in the top 25." These guys were more experienced runners than me and I knew it might be a gamble to try to stay with them. At this point the major hills were almost all over with, except for the climb into the first checkpoint at 19.3 miles that was all too vivid in my memory, so I decided I would see how it played out for a while, and promised myself that I would drop back if I needed to slow it up. To soothe my fears I asked Paul (the 16 hour guy) if this is how he usually starts for a 16-hour finish. To my relief he said he was taking it really slow until the bridge detour that takes us on the road for 7-miles and then he would kick it up a notch from there. The pace felt good and was more than manageable so I stayed with them. During this stretch I reached down to umm adjust myself, and to my great surprise I had been carrying two Clif Bars in the liner of my shorts since the start of the race. I put them in my waistband with the intention of eating them for breakfast before the start and had wondered what had happened to them. With the mystery solved, I planned on dropping the Clif Bars and all of my gel packs off at the next aid station.

Coming into the first checkpoint the memory of defeat from the year prior was thick in the air. I felt great this time and even had gotten there 18 minutes faster than 2010. At this point I was sitting happily in 19th place. Stuart and I left the checkpoint together, while Paul stayed back to make some gear adjustments. All I had needed from the station was to drop my unwanted cargo and top my water off again, so it was a quick stop. Just a few miles into the next section we passed an overlook that I decided to stop at to relieve myself. Stuart stopped too and we both agreed that sights like this were one of the best reasons to run these things (the overlook, not me pissing).

Reason number 1,026 of how trail running
is better than road running.

We left the overlook trading places back and forth with one of the relay runners. Stuart slowed up a bit and I passed him. Even though I was now ahead of both runners I had been worried about keeping pace with, I was feeling great and was completely comfortable with my decision. I figured I would see them again anyways, after all we still had a long day of running ahead of us. Hitting the next aid station I did another quick refill of my bottles and I also downed a few cups of ginger ale, one of my favorite in race drinks. At this point I had run the equivalent of a really difficult trail marathon, had no stomach problems, no cramps, no pain, and no other issues whatsoever. Given that I vomited at the finish line of Pittsburgh a couple weeks before and could barely walk to my car, this was a great sign, even though I was only a third of the way done.

At the Seven Springs station, I started keeping pace with Prasad, a teacher from DC. It was good to have a new conversation partner and someone to pace with as I hadn't seen anyone for quite some time. We plugged away at the miles and miles of very gently rolling trail, and it seemed like no time before we hit the next aid station and checkpoint at mile 32.3, just after the 50K stopping point. I again got more water, which I had been going through much faster than I had planned for. Less than 4-miles after the checkpoint we would take a detour because of the bridge outage and run a solid 7 or 8 miles of road until getting back on the trail. I made it to the road just fine, but then I had my worst section of the race.

I hate running roads, so much so, that I plan on almost completely cutting out marathons for next year and only running trail ultras. After 36-miles of trail, the last thing I wanted to do was take the detour. I would have rather they installed a temporary zip line across the turnpike or make us hand glide, anything but running on pavement. I don't know what it was, but I really started to fall apart and get worried. I was walking a ridiculous amount that I really should have been running. It was at this time I saw Paul coming fast behind me, then he passed and was never to be seen again. His plan was to torch the second half, and when I saw him it looked like that plan was coming to full fruition. Shortly after that, Prasad and Stuart also passed me. Then apparently without the tree cover I was sweating more and so with that, drinking more too, and I ran out. A lovely relay girl was passing by and asked if I need anything, so I took some water and she told me that there was a small aid station that wasn't listed in the course description just a little ways down the road. This was a huge morale boost, and though I still didn't feel very good, I started running more just to make it to the water stop. When I got there I dumped a few cups of water over my head, refilled my bottles, ate a ridiculous amount of watermelon and a few peanut butter cups before heading back down the road. The pavement was unrelenting and monotonous, and my legs were feeling every strike. All I wanted to do was get back to dirt. On the main road I received some cheering up from a fellow Brooks guy, Sean, who I had see running the relay in the first section and was now crewing for a friend. I was the perfect distance in front of his runner, that he ended up pretty much crewing for me the entire latter half of the race as well. Every aid station I hit after that, he was refilling my bottles, getting me whatever I needed and pumping me back up. He was a good guy and I hope I run into him again.

Once I got onto the back road that led back to the other side of the turnpike, there were a lot more runners in my view, so I started to run more out of the simple fact that I could see competition. I started to finally catch people again instead of being caught, which was huge for my psyche. I knew I was close to the next aid station, I was already on Hickory Flats Road, and knew thats where the first bag drop would be at mile 44. I was hurting pretty good and planned on making a longer stop to do some self maintenance.

When I came up on it, a volunteer was talking about how next year all the aid stations should have chia seeds. I was a firm believer at this point so I struck up a conversation and informed them that chia seeds and goji berries were pretty much all I was running on. I changed out my socks, put icy hot all over my legs, took a couple pain killers, refilled my hippie water with the stuff I had in my bag, and then I was off again with only about a quarter mile till I was back on trail, which I was really geeked out about. This was where I had told Ned and Hannah to meet me, because it marked where we were finally allowed to have pacers and I was going to use Ned. I had gotten there hours earlier than I had planned, which was good in one respect but I was kinda bummed that I probably wouldn't get to see them.

The self maintenance breathed new life into me and I freaking tore down the trail, catching people left and right. After about a half hour, I had caught up to Prasad and Stuart who were again running together. They both complimented me on my comeback and noted that the last time they saw me I didn't look so hot, but now I was flying. Prasad was noticeably struggling and after a solid effort of us keeping pace together, Stuart and I wished him luck and then went ahead. At mile 50 I looked down at my watch to see that I had run a faster time to this 50 miles than my time last year at the Masochist! My performance last year at the Masochist was kind of disappointing, but I was still pretty excited about it. The next aid station was just two miles ahead and I was still feeling good despite the expected fatigue.

As I crossed Route 30 and went to the third checkpoint I got a pleasant surprise. Ned and Hannah with their son Jack had just arrived, almost at the same time I did! They went to mile marker 44 of the trail instead of mile 44 of the race which now differed because of the detour around the turnpike bridge. The miscommunication ended up being absolutely perfect. I spent a little time chatting with Ned, getting restocked, and things of the nature, while Stuart went on ahead and Prasad caught up at the checkpoint and then left before Ned and I. I thought that Ned would be a good pacer at this point, despite not being a big runner, I figured I would be tired enough that the pace would be suitable for him. I was in much better shape than I had anticipated so we made a plan that I would leave him if I had to, but that he had to still make it to the next aid station to meet back up with his family, so he would just run it out. Ned and I very shortly caught up to Prasad and ran behind him for a little bit, but he was a bit slower than I wanted to be, so I decided to pass him. I kept motioning for Ned to make the move too, but running on the rough trail was taking its toll on him and he decided to stay back. There was a significant amount of downhill near this part and I wasn't being shy about it anymore. I knew I was styled and dialed for a finish so long as I didn't have a significant injury, so I was no longer being conservative. I ran alone for a long stretch of really good trail work and in a more open section I could see Stuart up ahead of me. I was now running to catch him. I took my time doing it, just keeping the pace I was already on, but eventually I was right behind him again. I ran with him a short while before falling back a bit and eventually I was alone again. I was trudging along at a smooth pace until I realized that I was probably going to run out of water. I began taking bigger shots of my hippie water to stay hydrated, but I really didn't want to run out of that since I didn't have any goji berries and chia seeds in my second drop bag to make more. I spread out my water but not nearly enough, the last few miles were going to be dry. I was on top of a ridge at this point and to leave course to find a stream wouldn't have been worth the effort, so I increased my pace a bit to get to the next aid station. It was around then that I realized that I had given my headlamp to Ned to carry and even though it was daylight, I knew I would need it eventually. I typically don't carry one during night runs, so I hoped the woods weren't going to be thick enough later on to block out all the moonlight. I eventually came to a jeep trail the crossed the trail and though a stream would have been much better, the muddy stagnant water from some tire ruts, felt pretty damn good when I poured it over my head. At that point I would have probably been willing to splash piss in my face. *Insert Joke Here*

This is what dehydration looks like.

When I headed into the fourth checkpoint at mile 62, Hannah and Jack were waiting there, as was Sean. I took my time getting some fluids back in me and getting my empty bottles refilled. There had been some miscommunication between aid stations and they had lost my drop bag, but I wasn't too concerned with not having any of the items it contained other than some pain killers, which Sean spotted me. They volunteers lent me a headlamp to use for the duration of the race, so that problem was solved too. I told Hannah that Ned might be hours behind me if he decided to walk it in, but luckily he toughed it out and ended up pacing with Prasad to make it back to his wife and son. I will make a trail runner out of him yet, that was a good showing from a non-runner in that 12 mile stretch! I had just 4 miles till the next aid station and 15 to finish. My goal now was to make it to my car by 17 and a half hours, and I only had a little over 3 hours to do it.

Had to get my hair done so I
could look as epic as possible
at the finish.

I can't fully remember but I believe there were two aid stations after mile 64, one a little bit down the trail maybe at 72. The race website only has one listed, so I am willing and excited to assume that I finally achieved my most sought after running ailment, hallucination! Though I do believe there were two, only one was vivid, the very last station with Donnie. After saying goodbye to Hannah, Jack, and Sean, I was alone yet again. I plugged away at the miles, walking even the slightest up hills to keep my legs fresh so that I could trash them from the last station to the finish line. The trail came out onto a dirt access road of some sort that had recently had gravel put down, unfortunately it wasn't pea gravel, but instead were huge golf ball sized rocks. This was not fun to run on at all, so where I could manage it, I ran along the road instead. The road was long and open, so to my great surprise I saw a familiar face far in front of me, Stuart! I also had a runner gaining ground behind me with his pacer. The sun had set and I was losing light quickly. I started trying to catch Stuart, but I noticed that he was running the hills. He later would tell me he did it because he saw me gaining ground on him, but was also hoping that I would follow his lead, run them too, and eventually catch him. I didn't take the bait though and stuck to my strategy, but was purposefully trying to distance myself from the guy behind me. I could see lights from the aid station ahead and made my way up the hill.

At the final stop I saw Donnie, who outside of Mikayla, there was no one I wanted to see more. As soon as he saw me he lit up, "Joe! I told you I would see you tonight! Where's you're girlfriend at?" I then awkwardly explained that despite the fact he had now seen Mikayla and I together in several states multiple times, that she wasn't my girlfriend. I had him check the aid station reports for her bib number, and he apologetically told me that she had dropped. I assumed this meant that she had been kidnapped by her puppeteer friend that was supposed to pace her. Puppeteers cannot be trusted, it's one of the core lessons from my upbringing that I credit with my survival to the age of 25. I would have run back to find her if it was a bear or a mountain lion, but in the case of the puppeteer, I would need to hunt him down as he probably already crossed state lines with Mikayla tied up in his trunk. In light of that, I decided I had to finish to get back to my car before all of that. Donnie fixed me up with some potato soup and grilled cheese, refilled my water bottles for the very last time, and I went back into the woods. The guy behind me had caught up to me at the aid station, but he was just getting in as I was leaving. I hoped he would take a long break so that I wouldn't have to defend my position.

This is what I assumed was happening
to Mikayla in some dude's basement
as I finished the race.

Visibility was really really bad and there was no way I could have run the last part without a headlamp. Even with the light it was difficult to run. I had to stare at the ground while I was moving and then to ensure I was still going the right way I had to stop to look up at the trail blazes, any time I didn't I was tripping over something. Drinking water had to also be done with caution in the dark. I tweaked my ankle more than a couple of times on the last section, not catching enough of a few rocks with my foot plant and bending it sharply upward, but I still felt like I was keeping a relatively fast pace for the conditions. Despite my confidence in the pace I was keeping, I heard something behind me and in the distance thought I could see a headlamp from the runner that I left at the aid station. He had a pacer and I imagine having two headlamps would have been a great asset. I picked up my pace, because there was no way I was going to let someone catch me in the homestretch. As I came to a clearing with a lot of rocks I recognized an area that I had hiked to in high school with my girlfriend at the time and I knew I was close to the end. I bounded through the woods following glow sticks that were now marking the trail. The rest of the trail was descent to the trail head. I started to hear voices and then I was flying, leaped up over a tree that had fallen over the trail and then crossed the finish line with a time of 17:47:17.

I immediately found Stuart and we congratulated each other, we had essentially run almost the entire race together. He ended up finishing around eight minutes ahead of me in 16th place, with me taking 17th. My tail came in about two and half minutes after I did in 18th. Paul, who had blew past me on the road section failed to reach his time goal, but came in respectably in 14th place with a time of 17:31:27. The 77-mile course record fell to Derek Schultz with a time of 13:17:20, a record that will now stand forever since next year the bridge will be repaired and the course will go back to the original distance of 70 miles.

Rick Freeman, the race director congratulated me and handed me my finishers trophy, a nicely carved replica of one of the stone mile markers along the course that was engraved with "77". He remembered my drop from last year, which made the finish all the more special, I had greatly improved. A few minutes later I found Mikayla, who I was glad to see was alright, and not in the puppet guys trunk or mauled by a bear. I rested for a little bit before heading over to my car to drive back to my hometown to crash for the night.

Mikayla, who had dropped at the same point I did last year and now has a score to settle of her own, apparently felt the sudden urge to dance during the race. She then purposefully disqualified herself, hitchhiked back to my car and then threw a dance party in the parking lot at the trailhead. When I got to my car, there were glow sticks, tubes of body paint, and a large amount of recreational drugs strewn about on the ground. I thought maybe some other runners had had a post race celebration, but then when I tried to start my car, the truth about the dance party came out. She had drained my battery completely, fueling an 8-hour long techno rave.

My car is beneath all those people.

The engine wouldn't turn over at all, but luckily there were a ton of people at the finish, and I figured someone out of the group had to have jumper cables. Mikayla found a guy, but after about 30 minutes of a solid effort, it was clear either we had bad cables or my battery was trashed (it ended up being trashed). At that point I just needed a quick fix, Mikayla and I had both been up since 3 AM and it was now past midnight. I called Ned to come rescue us and I left my car behind to deal with after I got some sleep. Ned arrived shortly and drove us to a hotel where we posted up for the night, an epic ending to my epic day of running.

The Conclusion

It feels almost anticlimactic with Laurel now behind me. I had wanted this finish so badly and for so long, but now that it's finished I need a new challenge. It was like getting to the end of Lord of the Rings, you loved it, but now you wanted more. How about watch all of them together? Can we get ahold of the extended versions? Sooo, when are they making The Hobbit? I'm certainly relieved and a bit proud that I finally threw the monkey off my back, but now I miss Bobo the Monkey and wonder what he is doing now.

On second thought, I don't miss
Bobo at all, that monkey was a
freaking jerk!

My next challenge is my first 100-miler, Burning River, at the end of July. I honestly have no fear, the course is easier than Laurel, certainly flatter, and I will have more support in lieu of more aid stations, a crew, and pacers. I can't but help think of years to come at Laurel, I have nothing to be ashamed of from my performance, but next year I will be looking to better it, and out of any race that I can think of, I would love to be able to be good enough to win this one someday. Here's to hope.

Visit the Laurel Ultra website HERE!

The 2011 Memorial 100

2011-06-19T17:32:00.000-04:00

Behind the Scenes:

Last year a small group of Marines I had served with in Iraq, spearheaded by Nathan Huffman, came together to create an event to honor our fallen brothers that would appropriately take place over Memorial Day Weekend.

The goal of the event we created (Memorial 100) is to reclaim the meaning of Memorial Day and interrupt what the holiday has become... just another 3-day weekend filled with barbecues, mini-vacations, and trips to the beach. I personally don't have any issue with those things in and of themselves, what I do (what we do) have an issue with, is that for a growing percentage of the population that's all Memorial Day is. Many don't realize or appreciate the sacrifices that people have made to secure the freedom to do all of the things we enjoy in our country. Most of the people involved with this run remember where they were on Memorial Day in 2005, and though it was sandy, it was about as far from a beach as you can imagine. At that point in the year we had already lost several Marines and before we would get back home we would lose many many more. For us and for the families and friends that our fallen brothers left behind, Memorial Day became sacred. We believe that it should be a somber day of reflection where we honor the men and women who fought and died to protect our rights and privileges throughout every generation.

Together in 2010 we had pulled off an amazing event that not only brought us back into the much needed brotherhood that exists among veterans, but we also raised nearly $12,000 for the Wounded Warrior Project and also raised a significant amount of awareness in the community for the unmet needs of wounded warriors. The logistics and planning were difficult and at times extremely frustrating, but at the conclusion we had decided that it was well worth all the effort we put into it and that we had to do it again.

This year wasn't any easier on Huffman, who again took on the brunt of the work, but key people stepped in to make the event a reality for the second year in a row. We had decided to switch charities, partnering with Hope For The Warriors, who were more accommodating and helpful to us than I can relate through words, being directly involved from the very beginning of planning to the conclusion of the actual event. The Richmond Police Department again provided key support as well, helping secure permits, permissions, and an escort for the entire length of the route. Tim Beck and Bill Sukitch, teaming up with Beckleys Camping Center essentially took care of all of our support vehicles, without which the run would have been absolutely impossible. Armand Grez and his wife who are Gold Star parents (those that have lost a child in combat) provided our t-shirts, a huge expense, free of charge. Larry Tremblay, the father of one of our own fallen, Cpl. Joseph Tremblay, was with us again the entire way too. The staff at the Virginia War Memorial also played a huge role for us, making their facility completely available for our needs at the start of the run. Fleet Feet Pittsburgh, via Kyle Ferkett provided a huge amount of nutritional products to fuel us during the one-hundred and six miles of running. All these people and many more came together to make our second outing a staggering success.

This year I ended up taking on a much smaller role than I had planned, regrettably getting distracted by various other pursuits. My fundraising leads weren't nearly as fruitful and I had failed to secure much in the way of logistical support or sponsorship. Despite the existence of my shortcomings, they had no impact on the end result due to various other people filling in the gaps. With everything behind us now, this years run was actually better supplied, better organized, and even more successful than the last. We managed to raise over $17K, shattering last years total and also exceeding our personal goal by over $2,000.

I don't know what to say to thank everyone who donated their time, money, and other resources other than that we are extremely grateful to every single one of you. To everyone who participated directly in the event over this past weekend, I don't think I need to make you aware of anything, because you saw the impact, you felt the fellowship, and you know what an honor it was to be a part of something so incredible... but thank you so much again for being a part of it.

The Details:

I set off from C-bus accompanied by my girlfriend Kayla and her 3-year old son Braxton, headed South through rural Ohio and then East towards Richmond. A late start, traveling with a child, and torrential downpour delayed our arrival a bit. Braxton's good behavior was to be rewarded with a trip to the hotel pool (he thought that was the sole purpose of the entire journey) so instead of going straight to Grandpa Eddie's for the kickoff event, I made good on the promise. I quickly found out that Braxton shares my fear of water, which made me wonder why in the world he would be so psyched about the pool beforehand, but I entertained him by carrying him through the pool (he calls that swimming). After getting wet for 30-minutes or so, we headed over for the official start the long weekend ahead.

When I arrived an hour late I was still among the first to get there, I guess we all assumed because Marines were involved, that it would be the standard "hurry up and wait". Huffman of course was on site, so was Segrist, Larry Tremblay, and the Grez family. Segrist and I spent so many nights together in Iraq on post and on patrol that you would have thought we would have run out of stuff to talk about, but the reunion was still epic.

After Kayla and I ate our portabella mushroom based dinners (the only items friendly to our vegetarianism) and I finished my superstitious routine of consuming a gin and tonic, Leo showed up, whom neither Segrist or I had seen since deployment. Even during deployment Leo wasn't around much because he had been reassigned from our platoon to a STA team. This long gap in face time in addition to the fact that I now look like a dirty hippie resulted in him not fully remembering who I was until I reminded him that I threw up all over him and his gear on the way back from Vegas 6-years ago. I don't recall any of that particular incident, but I was reminded of it by everyone else so often that I figured he hadn't forgot it either... and that was his lightbulb moment, "Oh yeah... Shearer. (insert dirty look here)" Bored Marines with alcohol in the vicinity typically results in heavy drinking, so without any of our other Marines on site yet, Segrist proposed that we all do a shot of Wild Turkey. This is something Segrist has been doing to me since pretty much the first time I met him. I distantly recall he and our fire team leader essentially ordering me to drink the first night I was with the unit, which because I had never drank before that time, it resulted in me being a hot mess and getting an undeserved reputation with alcohol (though some time later on, I definitely earned that association). Segrist is also the guy who kept anonymously sending rounds of Wild Turkey to our platoon commander anytime they happened to be in a bar together, making Captain (now Major) Darling go on a umm wild goose chase to find out who the hell was always trying to get him wasted whenever he went out to the bar.

When we sat down at the counter, I bypassed Segrist's tradition to get it out of the way since I knew it was coming anyhow and ordered three shots of the nasty stuff myself. The bartender knew we were Marines and also knew we were there for an event his establishment was hosting, so to say he was heavy handed with his pour would be a gross understatement. The single shot came in a tumbler and was way closer to being three shots than just one. I'm not the man I used to be when it comes to liquor, so I had to chase it with a beer, which almost wasn't enough to keep the whiskey from coming right back up. I thought that would be the end, or at least I was hoping it would be, but then there was another one right in front of me, this time courtesy of Leo, which may or may not have been payback for Vegas. I complained as we did the second and then immediately closed out my tab. I was well aware of where this kind of drinking was headed and I wasn't about to partake. Segrist stepped outside with me as some of the other Marines arrived whom we quickly greeted. With a bit of magic in us, our conversation turned taboo in topic as we contemplated politics and theology. For a moment it reminded we of the long hours sitting in a sandbag bunker together having similar conversations at the B/U split in Iraq. The weird thing was that the memory was nostalgic in nature and just for a minute I really missed being a Marine... and I missed being in Iraq. Kayla and Braxton were tired from the long drive, so after Segrist and I finished our talk, we headed back to the hotel to get some rest before the run.

I didn't sleep well and certainly not for as long as I would have liked, but when I went down to the hotel lobby, I was certainly in better shape than most. I apparently left just in the nick of time the night before, because half the runners didn't look so great... particularly Leo who had to be put on an IV before the run even started.

He looked just as bad before the run, minus the bloody nips.

Everyone had a solid hour or so to sweat out their indulgences because we were headed to the Virginia War Memorial for a special presentation of a new virtual reality film they just opened. The staff gave our crew a private tour of the facilities, most of which had been built since last year's run, before viewing the film. The whole tour and the film were really neat to see, it was a great privilege that the staff there extended to us and we all enjoyed it.

By the time we were finished inside, it was time to hit the road. When we went outside we were greeted by several TV new crews. Mike Kinnery took the brunt of the media attention, but Huffman threw me as a bone too. Segrist and myself were set to do the first leg, running behind a police vehicle, then our support vehicles and ambulance were in the rear. One of the news stories they ran locally in Richmond can be viewed here, my moto calf tattoo makes a cameo at the end:

"Marines Run From Richmond to Washington"

Then we went. The sun and humidity made us instantly regret this year's later start time, I was losing water like a leaky faucet in less than 5 minutes. After about 15, Segrist started to slow up his pace, which I was more than willing to follow. At about 4 miles he decided to drop to avoid hurting himself and save the juice for later sections.

And so it began.

Boyko hopped out of the van as a relief runner and took his guidon to finish the section with me. At the end of the section Finnerty and Thomas came out to relieve both of us, but I decided to stay out as a third runner for a bit. Not too far into the second section the sun abated and it began to pour rain down on us. The rain was welcomed but it brought on one of my least favorite running ailments... the dreaded bloody nipple! At 9 miles I decided to check out for the time being, not wanting to waste energy I didn't need to in case we were short runners later into the day and on into the night. I hopped into the support vehicle until we met up with the RV that was leapfrogging us to let runners recharge.

The thing about the RV was that after a good number of miles you were glad to see it, but then you'd be there so long waiting for your turn to come around again that all you wanted to do was get back into the van of fresh runners. While on this particular break, I decided to deal with my nipple issue and simultaneously attract female donors to our roadside table by doing some yoga poses. As such, any donations we received during the actual event, which I'm certain amounted in the thousands, I would like to personally take credit for.

Next time I'll shave my chest before applying duct tape.

My time at the RV was spent refueling, rehydrating, having conversations with old friends as well as some new ones, and of course hanging out with Braxton and Kayla who were following along the route in my car. At each stop the RV made we set up tables and manned them for anyone that might be passing by and be interested in what we were doing, so I also spent a little bit of time telling some folks about what we were doing and more importantly, why. The response to our event was almost all positive, with people yelling encouragement out of their windows, beeping their horns, and occasionally gathering alongside the road to cheer us on.

Once the rotation came around, I was more than ready to put in some more miles. I had decided to switch from my Brooks Green Silence to my newer Racer ST5's so that the former could dry out a little more. I was going to be running the next leg with Ferkett who outside of myself was the most experienced runner in our group. Our plan was to knock out two sections at once, keeping our pace a little faster than what had been done up until that point. A few miles into the second half of our distance I began to develop a nagging pain in the arch of my foot. Changing my strike to make it feel better only made my legs tired and the pain still began to worsen. I started to have a growing concern about it and eventually decided to bow out, despite my hurt pride. I went back to the RV and began to doing some self maintenance, massaging my foot, icing it, and doing some basic exercises. The pain didn't improve much, so I took some anti-inflammatory meds knowing I had a good bit of time before my next section.

At this point night was coming upon us and it was nearly time for Kayla and Braxton to go to the hotel for the night. I figured since I didn't have to run for a while that I would drive them up to DC and check them in during the break. After braving the DC traffic to the Iwo Jima Hotel, Kayla drove me back to the RV where I still had some downtime. I had determined that the Racer ST5's offer a little more support than I needed, and that they were sadly the cause of my calamity. In light of this realization, I switched back to the Green Silence, but also kept my foot taped up. I did some strides back and forth across the lot where we were staged and felt a marked improvement. Most of my companions were asleep, except a few hard chargers like myself who chose to forgo z-time. Last year I tried to sleep between my running shifts and it made me feel like a $5 whore in Jacksonville, NC on the 1st of the month. For those who didn't get that joke... Jacksonville is where Camp Lejeune is located and the military gets paid on the 1st and 15th of every month. Get it now? Ok, good. Funny, right?

When the support vehicles came back to pick new runners up, I joined them for my 3rd outing. Myself and Beck did the standard shift of running, but this time we were well into the middle of the night. The temperature was now perfect and the humidity disappeared as we ran up Route 1 toward our final destination. We decided that next year if we can't get an RV that we would be using 7-Eleven as our flagship sponsor and use their ridiculous number of stores along that road as aid stations. Living 200ft from one of their stores, I picture this scenario being a 106 mile run completely fueled on Brazilian Bold coffee, blueberry cheese danishes, and Grizzly Wintergreen.

Only the best for me! Grizzly a 2012 Memorial 100 sponsor? Yes please!

Shortly after our section the whole group went firm in the parking lot of a Wal-Mart so that everyone (the drivers in particular) could get some rest and that we would arrive at the correct time in DC. I again chose not to sleep. I spent the time in conversation with one of Chongo's brothers (by blood) who was running with us, and catching up on some reading. The down time was much shorter than we had originally figured in, just an hour and some change, but not a single person in our group was upset about about being tired, we were all just glad to be a part of something like this.

I initially wasn't sure if I would be doing any more sections before the 3-mile group finale, but I was the most willing to join Ferkett in the final push, so when we were up and rolling again, I got into the Hope for the Warriors support van. The sun came up as the last set of runners to precede us finished up their leg. Ferkett and I jumped into action for a longer section that would take us the whole way to the Pentagon, where we would all stop and get into formation. I was pretty exhausted at this point, which worked into the plan because Huffman was worried that Ferkett and I would be pulling 6 minute miles out of our ass and get us off schedule. Ferkett was probably exhausted too, but his Scott Jurek-like stature allows him to bound down the road like a freaking gazelle and I had to ask him to slow up on several occasions. Less than a mile from the Pentagon we saw a great irony in the placement choice of an Afghan restaurant. I'm sure the proprietors are lovely people and have delicious food, but I couldn't help but laugh that they would choose to operate the only Afghan business I have ever seen in my life, so close to a location that some of their countrymen are so grimly associated with.

Seriously... it was that close. The food on their website looks great though!

As we crested our final hill of the journey the Pentagon came into view and our caravan pulled off to the berm to assemble in squad formation. Ferkett and I traded out our soaked event shirts for our overly patriotic Hope for the Warriors shirts to look like the rest of our crew. Apparently our partners in crime were over-hydrating because this happened:

Yeah... right in front of the Pentagon.

After a quick briefing, some adjustments, and things of the like, we formed up for the final 3-miles in a platoon sized group being led in cadence by Gunny Fowler who instantly regressed back into his days as a Marine Drill Instructor. As we ran, we passed huge staging areas for another Memorial Day event, Rolling Thunder, where close to a half million bikers ride across DC in recognition for for prisoners of war and those missing in action. Their support and encouragement was awesomely epic as they cheered us on. Huffman briefly took over cadence calling because Gunny Fowler lost his voice, but retook command of us as we came near Iwo. As we ran up the road that leads to Arlington National Cemetery we did a loop around the monument before being called into mark time march, which I completely botched. I was the nasty ass recruit in boot camp that the DI's would intentionally leave on fire watch duty for drill competitions, so it was no big surprise. I think even the civilians that were running with us figured out what was going on, despite it not being pre-planned. Oh well, I was a crack shot on the rifle range and a PT rock star, which I always thought was more relevant to my job anyhow. After some ceremonial commands, we presented the colors to the Grez family and Larry Tremblay, before the Hope for the Warriors staff presented some awards to our more significant contributers. The whole ordeal was very emotional for all of us, many not being able to resist the urge to cry. The reason many of us were there participating in the event was rooted in the loss of some of the best men we have ever had the privilege of knowing, so it was very appropriate.

106 Miles Complete

After finishing up we said our goodbyes and made our exit. Some spent the day in DC, others like myself headed back home. The conclusion was bittersweet, we had pulled it off, but the whole event brought old memories of loss to the surface. We are forever united by our experiences together and the brothers we lost. I can't imagine a better way to remember our fallen than the way we have done it for the last two years and that will be the driving force of the event in years to come. Not a day goes by that I don't think back to 2005, but every Memorial Day you can be sure that whatever I am doing and wherever I am, that I will be celebrating the lives and mourning the loss of those I served with.

Race Report: Dick's Sporting Good's Pittsburgh Marathon 2011

2011-05-23T03:23:00.002-04:00

Last year my race in the Steel City was a disastrous affair... I was undertrained going in, injured about half way through, had terrible weather, and there was even a bomb scare during the race. I finished that one in 4:08:16, my worst marathon time to date by over 20 minutes.

This time my only concern about training was that I might be overtrained and not fully recovered from the last couple of races. I was still fairly confident that I was going to set a new PR and in doing so, redeem last year's race. My time to beat was 3:40:58, the mark I set last October in Columbus. I have had two shots already this year at eclipsing that time, but was just a few minutes off in both efforts. April and so far May have been some really solid training months, and much more consistent than anything I have ever done before a marathon. On top of the confidence in my training, this is also a race that I have done twice before, I know the course, where the hills are, and exactly where I have struggled in the past.

Just to give myself an extra edge to appease the running gods, I even had my buddy Phil tattoo the skyline of Pittsburgh on my forearm... how could I do poorly at a race whose location is forever etched into my skin? That would just be bad form.

Some of you thought I was joking... I wasn't.

All that said, my original approach was to hang out near the 3:30 pace group until mile 20, and then drain the tanks for the last 6.2 miles, giving myself at least 10 minutes shaved off the PR.

Pre-race preparations went well, I did a really good job of being intentional with my diet leading into everything, stayed hydrated, and even tapered a bit (more because of my work schedule than actually resting because it was a good idea, but it still counts). I met up with Alex and Elise at the expo, where I also got the chance to say hi to Ferkett, a Marine I served with who I ran most of my first marathon with. I didn't really have a plan for lodging or anything set in stone, so when Alex and Elise offered to share their hotel room with me, I accepted. I spent the night there and actually got a decent amount of sleep, but then again I always do when I am big spoon (thanks Alex).

My fear of Pittsburgh traffic had us waking up just after 4 AM to head out to the starting line by 4:45. What ended up happening was us getting there at 5:15 for a 7 AM start. The weather looked to be reminiscent of last years... slightly cold for the time of year, dreary, and an oppressively consistent drizzle.

The long wait to start resulted in meeting someone who I only had know via the interweb previously, which was pretty cool. She recognized me (probably because of my stunningly awesome facial hair) and now I see the potential of a new running buddy, which I always seem to be in need of. She was running the half marathon at about the same pace I was hoping to run the full in, so the first few miles of the race I had the unexpected pleasure of conversation.

Foregoing my original plans, I decided to, of course, start fast and stayed up with the 3:20 pace group to start out. Outside of the annoying weather and my shoe coming untied around mile 6, everything was smooth sailing. I stayed right up on the pacers as close as I could manage, and did a decent job of staying on a consistent pace. I was popping gel every 45 minutes and had a pretty methodical hydration plan working out. This whole that time that I was in the groove, I wasn't letting myself develop too much comfort. The start isn't where I have problems, its the last 8 miles that I was worried about. To prevent a collapse I just stayed in the pack. I felt like I should fly down hills, but it was a bad idea, so I didn't. In ultras you use the features to your advantage, and your pace being completely consistent is impractical if not altogether impossible. This wasn't an ultra, it was a road race, and I had to run it like one.

Though it was good to have some company, it was also nice for the course to open up a bit once the half-marathoners turned off around mile 10.5 to head back towards Heinz Field. Just after that though is the most significant hill of the course, about a 200+ foot climb that starts right as you get across Birmingham Bridge. It's not much of a climb compared to some in ultras, but those are ones you run/walk. When you hit a hill like this one at a sub-8:00 pace, it's hard to keep that quick pace going for you. I tried to keep up with the pace group, but they inched further away from me with every stride. Some of the other runners that had been around me started to fall back too, it wasn't a case of all the sudden they blazed up the hill and left us, it was a gradual process. I honestly got a little worried right about then, worried that it was another case of me going out too fast and burning out. I tried to put the bad thoughts out of my head and just keep my pace steady and keep the group in view for as long as I could. I knew if I was consistent enough and didn't drop off completely that it would be a long while before the 3:30 guys caught up to me, and if that happened I would just try to stay with them.

As I went it was amazing how many familiar faces I saw. I saw at least two or three people from C-bus and quite a few old friends from Pennsylvania. In previous years I had seen a couple, but this time around it really felt like a hometown race. The thing I loved about the Columbus Marathon last year was the familiarity... running past places I see on a daily basis and seeing my friends on and around the course. This was very comparable, despite the fact that it's been over 4 years since I ventured to Ohio. As I passed the Pittsburgh YWCA (cool because I work at the one in C-bus) I was still feeling pretty fresh despite being close to the mileage where I start to struggle. The gels were starting to become a great annoyance to my stomach so I ate a few pepto tablets and started taking advantage of the Gatorade and orange slices at the aid stations to get my calories in. I also began to foolishly project my finish time anytime I passed a race clock, I say foolish because regardless of what I calculate, it always makes me want to go faster.

As I reached 20 miles, I knew all I had to do was hang on for a 10K. It had been raining almost the entire race, which was a huge problem last year when I was wearing my Trance 9's that aren't made to get wet, but this time around I was rocking my Green Silence's that breathe a whole lot better and subsequently also drain water a whole lot better too. When I started the climb that I recognized last year as the place I had to pull over and do some self maintenance on my pulled groin I was a full half hour faster to that point than in 2010. As soon as I realized this it was like a second wind, there was no doubt in my mind I would be walking away with a new PR, but by how much was still up for discussion. The last miles of the race are for the most part downhill so I had that working in my favor too.

At mile 23 I was very disappointed that the bar that in prior years had given me a 20oz Solo cup full of Yuengling decided to give out much smaller portions, but alas I had more important things to attend to. I did get an awkward amount of applause around that section, because the supporters lining the streets were very much my demographic... crazily groomed, tattooed bar flies, who very much appreciated my ink, amazing facial hair, and elation at getting free beer.

Shortly thereafter I passed a runner who had been reduced to walking as I have been in the past. I was beginning to entertain the idea myself so the encouragement I offered him, "Hey man, you have to run this last bit, if not you're going to look back at it in an hour and beat yourself up over it. You can finish with a really good time still, you just have to push through the pain." was for me as much as it was for him.

As I rolled into the homestretch I came alongside an older runner, who was probably running his 200th marathon or something. We both asked how one another were doing, and it was agreed that we both felt solid. He told me we should push the pace, so we did for the last mile and a half. On the 6th Street bridge there was a slight incline so I opened up my stride. That's where I saw my co-worker and fellow Pennsylvanian (and comer upper of my Pittsburgh tattoo design), Katie, for the second time during the race. I said hey and commented that unless I trip and break my ankle that I had my PR. The older guy I was pacing with told me to gun it the rest of the way, and I took off on my standard end-of-race Medal of Honor run. I still don't understand how I manage to get the speed I do at the end of the races but it's an amazing feeling when you bolt across the finish line, especially at big marathons like Pittsburgh where the crowd sees it and you know their reaction is for you despite the fact that there are literally thousands of runners. As I hit the timing strips I even got a shout out for my strong finish from Pittsburgh Steeler Ryan Clark who was announcing the finishers.

I finished with a huge improvement upon my PR, getting it done in 3:28:24, fueling future fantasies of qualifying for Boston and hopefully breaking 3-hours someday. After shedding my hydration belt and shoes I promptly left the finish line area and threw up large amounts of water and orange pulp in front of PNC park. This seemed rather fitting and I could probably create some relevant analogy from my vomit to the perpetually disappointing performances of the Pittsburgh Pirates.

Special shout outs go to the following:

Staci Headings, my former coworker at the Hampton Inn who finished her first half marathon in 2:48!

Adrienne Anderson, fellow Columbusian and now real life acquaintance, rocking the half in 1:41!

Elise Varner, my good hometown friend and future ultrarunner (if I can talk her into it) kickin' the half in 1:49!

Nick Boyko, fellow Marine and friend, finishing the half in 1:59!

Erin Suda, my good friend and huge supporter in my 2010 effort, battling through injuries to finish the half in 3:00!

Heather Duncan, my favorite Air Force girl and nurse, helping her friend along the way to finish the half in 2:08!

Oscar Aguilera, fellow Marine and my favorite illegal alien, killing the full in 4:55!

Kyle Ferkett, fellow Marine and favorite hippie, finally being slower than me at 3:36!

Natalie Halapin, my biggest crush as a 15 year old and favorite red head, finishing her first marathon in a solid first time performance of 3:58!

Tony Previte, an old high school friend, running in the relay and providing a boost to me at the end.

Dan Croce, always in the crowd every time I run Pittsburgh.

Katie Gascoine, spending all day in the rain to support her Dad, and inadvertently me.

Race Stats:

Official Time: 3:28:24 @ 7:57/mi

389th of 4284 Overall

341 of 2645 Men

83rd of 456 Men 25-29

Race Report: The Capon Valley 50K 2011

2011-05-14T03:17:00.000-04:00

This has been a really great start to my race season in the sense that I'm about five races in and I have yet to run in an event that I have previously participated in. Usually my Spring is really quiet and Pittsburgh marks the kick off of my race schedule. With Pittsburgh just over the horizon and several races already behind me, I feel like I'm a stronger runner than I have ever been. There are still some deficiencies though... in my training, in the way I have handled nutrition issues, and in my approach to race day strategy.

Going into this last race, The Capon Valley 50K, I knew it would be the hardest I had seen so far this year. Up to this point I really hadn't done anything with much elevation gain or loss since the Masochist back in November. I know I don't train enough for climbs, but it didn't stop me from forming the idea in my head that I could break 5-hours.

I had run the Tie-Dye 50K just two weeks prior where I ran a personal best of 5:23, so I was looking to make a pretty radical jump on a much harder course. When I think about it now, it seems stupid in a way, but I always show just enough fight in the first 2/3 of a race that it makes me believe the next one will be different, so why not keep aiming high?

I tried to convince some other runners to come down with me, but between the registration cost being a little higher than average (definitely worth it though) and the long drive away from Columbus, it ended up being just Mikayla and myself. She's been battling injury off and on for months now, but decided to still see what she was capable of. She, despite being from West Virginia, forgot that it can be a bit hilly in her home state. I was the one who was fully aware and simply refused to give the devil his due.

Driving down to the race start on Friday proved to be an adventure in and of itself as we were going to a very rural area without cell phone service or accurate GPS information. Mikayla showed up to my house like 3 or 4 hours late because she had to put in her weave or something equally as ridiculous as that, but I foresaw her sabotage efforts and we still made it down in plenty of time, even after thinking we were lost on more than one occasion.

After setting up our tents, getting our gear organized, packets picked up, and everything else taken care of, I went on a short 3 mile run up the road to get my legs loose... which felt like complete crap and actually kind of scared me... I think sitting in the car for so long threw me off. Once the formalities were over, Mikayla and I drove into town to get some pre-race carbs. We only had about three places to choose from, and I'm pretty sure we picked the most non-vegetarian friendly place of the bunch. I had a decent pasta dish, but it was super heavy with egg and some sort of cream sauce. That was probably a bad idea and I think I can blame some of my in-race stomach issues on that choice. Mikayla had a fish of some sort that we had never heard of... when we asked the waitress about it she said that the type of fish had a personality similar to a barracuda. I'm not sure that was relevant, but it sounded compelling enough that it was Mikayla's choice. I guess if you are a "flexitarian" you can choose to only eat animals with angry personalities?

Sleeping in a tent is actually my preferred pre-race rest... it's cheaper, you are close to the starting line, and it feels like an adventure. When all was said and done I probably clocked out for about 6 or 7 hours of decent sleep and woke up without an alarm around 6 AM. I had done pretty much all there was to do the night prior, so I simply drank a small coffee and milled about the area until the start.

I wasn't planning on staying with Mikayla or anyone else for that matter, so I began my race in the middle of the pack. We went through someone's yard, up onto the highway and then up a dirt road. I used the first stretch to get in position as I knew any passing would soon be done on single track which isn't always ideal. After shooting off in the woods we had a short climb and then a nice long descent into the valley. An early stream crossing had me disoriented as I looked down at my footing instead of up at the course markings, and I ended up leading 3 or 4 runners astray in addition to losing all the ground I had gained in the downhill (which is traditionally where I make my $$).

The beginning and the end...

It was probably only 45 seconds of lost time, and though a bit frustrating, it was early enough in the race that I didn't let it get to me too much. If I have any criticism of the race, I would say that it would have been better to use a solid color to mark the course instead of striped ribbon. The whole course was well marked in frequency of ribbons, they were just difficult to see in some lighting. After that slight mishap there were some nice variations of ascents and descents through mixed forest and open meadows. Most of the course was very runnable, but the diversity of it kind of thinned out the pack as different weaknesses and strengths were exposed. I am an average climber, a slightly above average grinder (the runnable sections), and as I said before, down hill running is where I shine. Some non-runners that might read this might question how hard it is to run down hill, but with a bit of experience you will soon realize that going down is sometimes just as bad if not worse than going up.

After several miles in and a few aid stations (that I pretty much ignored in the first half), there was only a handful of runners in my view. One who pretty much just swapped spots with me every quarter mile or so and then two who were some distance ahead of us and taking advantage of climbs. A big hill would come up and they would widen the gap on us, then on the other side we would close it back up again.

It became really close when we came to a section of gravel road that ran under the power lines. The roads were so steep that it looked as if the people in front of me were jumping off a cliff. I was running so fast that if I had fallen it would have almost certainly ended in a trip to the hospital, complete with broken bones. The gravitational momentum was bordering on the scary side, where I wasn't sure if I should try to slow myself down or just keep going with it. The gravel footing didn't help things at all, I would have actually preferred dirt.

When we hit Aid Station #2 just before 11 miles, the volunteer said something that I didn't quite catch as I refilled my water bottle. I didn't linger there but left the station side by side with the runner I had mentioned I had been switching spots with. He then informed me of the info I missed, that I was in 7th place overall, and he was, for the purpose of distinction only, in 8th. I couldn't believe we were that far up in the field, and on top of that we were well in range of catching 5th and 6th. We scurried along through some creek crossings, rejuvenated by our surprising placement.

I was hoping that the two runners in front of us were pushing each other faster than either wanted to be going and that they would both burn out, enabling us to overtake them. No more than 3 miles from the second aid station, one of them did indeed fizzle out, putting our competition now between our newly acquired 6th and 7th spots. As we made our way onward, we travelled with a pretty even pace through the still well varied course. My new acquaintance told me that he had run this race a few years back in 5:15 and his goal was the same as mine, to PR and break 5 hours. Looking at the results of previous years, I wondered to myself if we were going too fast. I still felt good, but I wasn't sure if I could keep it up or not.

Not too much after we passed Aid Station #3, there was a sharp turn past a hunting cabin where a man on the porch asked us if we needed anything. In retrospect I should have stopped for about 5 minutes and had a beer with our friendly spectator, it would have probably done me a world of good. Just past his cabin was a pretty nasty climb, it wasn't so much steep as it was long, which in my opinion is way worse... perhaps it reminded me of Long Mt. and Buck Mt. at the Masochist? This one can take 3rd place for things that piss me off and it's called North Mountain... I see a theme, do you?

As we climbed, homeboy was pushing the pace and running more than I wanted to on this climb, I would imagine this was because our elusive prey was in plain view. Sometimes even though you are already gaining steady ground on someone, you trade your patience away once you smell blood in the water. I could say that I saw the mistake he was making and that's why I chose not to pick it up and follow, but I'd be lying, I was simply getting worn out. Ohio being flat isn't a legitimate explanation, it's that I neglected to properly train for climbs. Few as they may be, I could have found just ONE and done repeats, or found a nice tall building with a stairwell, or attempted to train on a machine at the gym. I didn't do anything even close to specific training in preparation for this race and it showed.

As I went up and saw the runners in front of me slowly vanish into the trees I could hear that I was being caught from behind. I was someone's prey now. I forced myself up the hill, running for any distance I could. When I reached the top I turned to see my pursuers and then I jetted down the hill. The descent was long, almost an annoyingly runnable stretch. I thought I would gain ground back but I didn't. One of the guys behind me finally caught up, and then I kept pace with him and distracted myself with his conversation. We turned out of the woods and onto a dirt road that took us down to Aid Station #4.

I stopped to refill my bottle and to down some bananas. We were at mile 19, well over the half way point, just 12 miles from the finish. Two runners passed me up who didn't stop at the aid station and then I ran with my new pacing partner, letting him lead. I was now in 10th place, which was still awesome, except for the fact that I began to buy into the struggle that my mind and body was trying to sell me.

After a good stretch of mild elevation loss and really runnable trail we came to the next climb. My legs seemingly stopped working. They weren't hurting, they weren't even tight, it was like reaching for something that just wasn't there. I should have just kept them moving, looking in the distance instead of at the ground, playing my games instead of letting myself doubt. There was no way that I was going to drop out of a 50K after doing 20+ miles, especially when I was still in 10th and had less than 10 miles to go, but I lost the faith that I was going to meet my expectations or even do well at all.

It's such a toxic thing your mind can do to you... and when you look back you always ask why you weren't able to give yourself a nice mental thrashing and plug on.

Everything started to go wrong... I was annoyed by my ankle that was acting up, annoyed that my shoes were wet, the thought of eating another gel disgusted me, and I pretty much just wanted the race to end. Walking became more frequent, and not just on hills, but on runnable sections too. As people passed me they asked how I was doing, I gave different answers depending on what was pissing me off right that second... "Oh just cramping up a bit." "Damn stomach acting up." "Hitting the wall for a minute." "Shaking out some ankle pain." It was all mildly true, but the all encompassing truth was that I lacked the motivation to deal with any of those minor issues, which made them all really big issues.

I tried running more, but I couldn't force myself to go more than a few minutes. Several times I straight up stopped on the course, which is a huge personal no no of mine, hell, I even mention it in the title of this blog... "Life is Like an Ultra... JUST KEEP MOVING FORWARD." I stopped at one point for a solid ten minutes, even took my shoes and socks off to wring out water. I don't know what got into me, because I've ran harder races, further races, ones with more pain. At one point I had considered laying down on the side of the trail to take a nap and wait for Mikayla so I could help her (so she could help me) finish strong. I really considered it, but then I thought about the potential of her dropping out, which would result in me waiting for someone who would never get to me, and then I'd be swept off the course for a DNF. I immediately thought about what happened at Laurel last year and thought about how it would be a bad sign for this year if I dropped out of a 50K just a month before trying to tackle Laurel again. So I wisely kept moving forward.

Being a huge Pittsburgh Penguins fan, I know that at least once a year my team will get crushed to the tune of 7 or 8 goals. Every team gets blown out at least once a year, and it's not that big of a deal usually since it's an 82-game schedule, but it still freaking sucks. Even if you're on top of the standings and the game has little meaning, even then, it still sucks. That's what I am writing this race up as, a lapse, a blowout, a suckfest. It was certainly a hard race, don't get me wrong about that, but I am a better runner than I showed last weekend. I got blown out, I shouldn't have, but I did.

The last 4 or 5 miles were complete garbage. I walked a lot. The miles went by excruciatingly slow. People passed me left and right. I bitched a lot to myself. It wasn't until I reached the last aid station (which had also been the first) that I mustered up anything positive. The aid station volunteers noticed I wasn't sweating, which might be because I was refusing to exert myself rather than because I was dehydrated, but what did it really matter with less than 3 miles to go? After spending about 5-minutes sipping some Mountain Dew and conversing with the aid station people, I went on my way and actually conjured up some running.

As I left the woods I was in full stride, knowing exactly where I was in relation to the end. I flew down the hill to the intersection where some local police were stopping traffic for runners and then took a left to cross the bridge and come into view of the finish line. The course cut across the same yard we started out on, one last stream to hop over, and then down the gravel road to the timing station. I crossed the line with a time of 6:01:48 for my fourth 50K finish. For all the crap I pulled on the trail, I should consider my time a blessing. From 7th place to 46th in the last 1/3 of the race was a hard pill to swallow.

The good news in all of this is that I have at least two more 50K's to run this year, and with the distance quickly becoming a favorite of mine, I expect to have some sort of redemption. I have some big fish to fry this Summer with Laurel (77 Miles) and Burning River (100 Miles) which I think I am actually better trained for than a 50K at the moment, just because the strategy will be so much different. My first race after those adventures is another 50K, which I will be anxiously awaiting to tackle.

After sulking a bit like a little girl, I took a shower, ate some vegetarian lasagna that they had included with registration, and then went to inquire about Mikayla. I found out that she was still on course, so I waited outside to see her finish. I knew this was the hardest race she had ever attempted and I knew she wasn't anywhere near 100% going into it, so I was nervous that this might have been too much.

Nearing the cut-off, I was probably pissing the volunteers off with asking them every 2-minutes if Mikayla had made it to the last aid station. Once the time hit 9-hours they told me the sweep had begun and she had not made it to the aid station in time. This was proved incorrect less than 5 minutes later when I saw her pink shirt in the distance moving down the road towards us. I would have went out to encourage her to finish strong, but she shoved me aside and made a mad dash to the finish line and then immediately pulled a Brandi Chastaine just before doing a 50 pushups right there at the end. Freaking rock star.

Yeah, pretty much like this.

Well next up is Pittsburgh for another crack at the marathon. I should be excited because there's a good chance of me getting a PR, but I have to drive in Pittsburgh to get to the race, and I HATE driving in Pittsburgh. I'll be hanging with the 3:30 pacers hopefully until the last 4 or 5 miles at which point I plan on making a break for it. Who knows though, anything can happen. Until next time.

Race Report: The Tie-Dye 50K 2011

2011-05-02T04:35:00.000-04:00

This race was an unanticipated add-on to my schedule. I stumbled upon it whilst looking up the results from the ORRRC Marathon and simply couldn't pass up the bargain price, proximity to Columbus, and of course the opportunity to kick trail.

Tie-Dye ended up being my first ultra of 2011, taking the place of the Capon Valley 50K that I'm running in early May. It didn't take much to get me excited about running this, just because I was already kind of getting road raced to death, but then the closer it came the more reasons I had to get really geeked out over it.

I found out that two of my friends and fellow runners, Rachel Nypaver and Steve Hawthorne, would be joining me there. I have really looked up to both of them as runners and also just as really great people since meeting them in December when I ran with Rachel and her sister Sandi during their "I Believe Run Across Ohio". The chance to run with them at Tie-Dye was something I definitely looked upon as a privilege.

I anticipated several other friends, running buddies, and acquaintances to be there too. One of the things I love about ultras that I don't really see in marathon running, is the really close knit community and the bond between runners, and circumstances leading up to this race really looked to be forming a special picture of exactly that.

One of my newest friends, Nathan Zangmeister (Zang), was set on losing his ultra virginity with this race and if you read my previous blog from the Bigfoot 50K, you'd know that I love seeing people fall in love with ultras almost as much as I enjoy running them myself.

Preparation for this race probably topped any of previous efforts in training and I actually took it much more seriously than I typically do, which is exactly what I was hoping for in packing my schedule. I had been making it a weekly habit of driving to John Bryan State Park (the race location) spending time hiking the trails with my girlfriend and her son, then running them for several hours after she left for class. I probably spent about 12 hours altogether out there before the race, hiking or running every potential route. To say I was well acquainted with the area by race day would be very accurate.

I was putting some serious trail mileage on my legs and knew more or less what I would be running into for race day. All these ducks lining up had me very confident that I could destroy my 50K PR. I had never really had the chance to put a solid effort into a 50K, so I was curious as to what I was capable of.

During the final days leading into the race I decided that my secondary goal to beating my PR was to run a sub-5 hour time, and if I could manage it I wanted to roll with Steve (who is a much better runner than myself) as long as I could handle it. Closely following the updates on the race website proved more necessary than normal because of the excessively rainy month we had been having. The preferred course took us into Clifton Gorge, which is stunningly beautiful with rock formations, waterfalls, and wildflowers. The problem with that route was that the Little Miami River that runs in the gorge was more than a little high... flooding parts of the course, destroying bridges we had to cross, and making some parts extremely dangerous... in the tune of 200 ft cliff drops.

Gotta die somehow... why not death by waterfall? Epic.

Last minute rain ensured that we would run an alternate course that was way less fun and not nearly as scenic as the original. (I scoffed at the RD's choice when I found out, but when I ran the original course two days later I came away feeling that he had definitely made the right decision.) Final prep going into the race went smoothly, though I would have preferred a little more sleep than I got the night before. I got off work at 11 PM and was planning on carpooling with Zang to Yellow Springs, which meant a 4:45 AM departure from C-bus. Oh the joys of waking up before sunrise.

Zang, myself, and his girlfriend began our journey with an hour long ride down I-70, rocking out to some Fleet Foxes if I remember correctly. Once in John Bryan we had more than enough time for last minute gear check, some pre-race banter, and the normal things of the like. Kayla had met me there to see me on my way and to meet some of my friends that were worse than an overly involved mother or aunt (Steve). I kissed Kayla goodbye and headed to the start line with Steve, Rachel, and Zang.

I honestly was a bit nervous to run with Steve and I almost considered not even attempting to run at his pace. I was more nervous for Zang though, because I didn't want him to go out too fast in his first ultra and pay for it in the late miles that would already prove to be a foreign experience for him. Despite all of this, I still decided to follow close behind Steve and gave no warning to Zang either.

We stepped off into our journey at exactly 7AM, and almost instantaneously a small group of about 5 or 6 runners formed a pack and jetted off at a pace I probably reserve for speed work. Just as quick, a second similarly sized pack developed that included Steve, myself, and Zang. Rachel had opted for the more logical strategy and was running her own race. We set off on a fairly aggressive pace that I guess started around 8:15/mi and leveled out somewhere still under 9:00/mi. We ran a short road section and then entered the tree line for a short loop. We came back to the start in good time and our pack stayed nice and tight.

The eventual female winner is the one in the back.

We then went through a stretch of grass and onto the mountain biking trails. As we descended down the access trail it became clear that this run was going to be a bit muddy. At the bottom of the hill we turned onto single track, and we were off. I had run and hiked this section of the park the first time I had went out there with Kayla and Braxton and remembered that the tight (and completely unnecessary) turns were akin to the feeling you would get from staying on a merry go round too long. In addition to that, the footing was reminiscent of a slip 'n slide, which made for some interesting acrobatics as nearly everyone had their feet taken out from underneath them unexpectedly. Zang gets my vote for best recovery though, early in the first loop he almost face planted, but caught himself just in time. Our group maintained our cohesion for an unbelievable amount of time, I was surprised at how good my lungs were feeling and began to believe I could keep it up. I was also really impressed with Zang, who was right there the whole time. Steve and two other runners traded turns leading up front, and no one was really pushing to go ahead on their own. I wasn't looking back much to see if anyone had dropped off pace, but it sounded like we had good retention and none of us stopped at the first or second aid stations.

Not long after the second aid station, the course takes you out of the woods and within view of the start line, but only very briefly before you go back onto the trails for the most technical section of the course. Steve and I picked up pace and flew down the trail, this was the only portion of the course that would even remotely play to any of my strengths so I took advantage of it. This is pretty much where are group began to disperse a bit, and gaps opened up.

Coming out of the first loop Steve was in 5th place overall and I was about 30 seconds behind him in 6th. This was about 12 miles into the race and we were hauling ass. Zang finished the loop about a minute behind me after which I never saw him again until the finish. He knew he went out quick and wisely corrected himself. As I was coming into the aid station I saw Mikayla, who was resting an injury to fight another day. She promptly insulted me, then took a picture of my ass which I presume is for Jeremiah who we all know is totally building a portfolio of such pictures that he began at the Xenia Marathon.

This isn't nearly as bad as when I accidentally snubbed David Horton at the Masochist.

Even though he got there first, Steve stayed at the aid station longer than me, so I went out ahead of him only to be caught on the mountain bike access trail a few minutes later. I let him go ahead of me and lead but I could tell he was starting to slow down a bit, which I was more than happy to follow suite with for a few miles. I was still feeling fresh and knew the whole course now, so I decided to pass Steve and see if I could gain some ground on the front runners (I had no delusions of actually catching them though).

I ran almost the entirety of the second loop alone, except for one runner who had passed me a bit earlier. I caught glimpses of him in the distance and was attempting to return the favor. Although it never happened, it was the motivation that kept me running the entirety of the second loop. By the time I was making the last climb up to the start line I was really starting to feel fatigued. Looking back on it I would have to guess a combination of poor sleep and dehydration was starting to get to me. I finished the second loop in good time, sitting almost 4-minutes ahead of Steve, 15 in front of Zang, and happily in 12th place overall.

I had taken a long break at the last aid station in the woods, so I skipped the next one, but I began intervals of walking. I was alternating between walking and running till about half way down the mountain bike access when I was passed by two runners, so I decided to pace off of them for a bit. They were going faster than I felt I could maintain so I dropped back and tried unsuccessfully to play games in my head to get me to run. Then I found one that was legit. I could only take a walking break if 1) Steve caught me. OR 2) I made it to the last remote aid station. I knew Steve had probably gained ground on me because I had been slacking off, so I wasn't surprised when I saw him a few minutes behind me on another part of the trail. I yelled to him to get a status update as we both continued to trod down the now mess of a trail.

Not long after that I caught a runner who refused to be passed, so we had a solid 20 minute battle back and forth before I gave up. He tracked me down after the race and we both agreed that that little competition was exactly what we both needed at that point in the race. While that was true, it also kicked my ass and I had to take a long break at the aid station to regain some sense about myself. Steve caught me there, but I knew I was starting to flatline and there was no way I wanted to get into another pace war like the one I just had, so I left him and went ahead(which was funny because he thought I was waiting for him there, which in turn made me look like kind of a jerk.).

I tried getting into a groove, but couldn't maintain a pace. I was extremely dehydrated and it was a bit too late in the game to fully recover from it. It didn't take long before Steve caught up to me and passed. I told him hopefully I would see him in a few minutes, which was true, but it was at the finish line and not on the trail.

I forced myself along as best I could, trying to string together some solid stretches of running, which really was all I could do at this point. A finish and a PR was almost a certainty now, with just a couple miles left and more than enough time to complete them in. As I came out of the woods, it was was like blood in the water and I started to charge toward the finish. When I was within view of the end, I managed to pull out as much of a sprint as someone could muster at the end of 32 miles.

I crossed the finish line in 5 hours 23 minutes and 57 seconds and in 19th place overall... demolishing my PR by a half hour, despite a really really muddy course. Steve, who finished about 5 minutes ahead of me, was there to congratulate me on my PR and we talked with each other and some of our fellow finishers as we waited for the rest of our runners to come in.

I asked Zang's girlfriend how he looked when he came through last and her report was promising, but I was a bit concerned that he was going to kill me for getting him into this muddy mess. About 20 minutes after I came in, Rachel came cruising out of the woods to take 3rd place female and 23rd place overall.

Steve and Rachel watched a few more runners come in before saying their goodbyes and heading back to Parma, which is when I really started to wonder what was running through Zang's head at this point. I pictured him knotted up with cramps shaking his fist at the heavens and cursing my name. But just as I was talking to his girlfriend about my concerns, he came bolting down the hill towards us and the finish line shirtless and with a smile on his face. I initially thought he might be delirious, but quite the contrary, he was enjoying every second of it. A successful baptism by mud. So let it be known that Nathan Zangmeister is now a fellow ultrarunner, finishing his first 50K in a time of 6:19:14.

Awkward looking picture. But I swear we aren't gay.

This race was a great start to my ultra season and really highlighted the adversity, the fellowship, and all the other things I love about running these things. I have full confidence that this is going to be a really good year of running for me. My goal for the next one? Break 5-hours!

Race Report: The ORRRC Marathon

2011-04-19T13:57:00.000-04:00

I wasn't originally trying to front load my race schedule, it just kind of happened that way. Some races I signed up for because they sounded fun, some because I have a score to settle, or in other cases I enjoyed it before and am now a repeat customer. I signed up for the ORRRC marathon for only two reasons. One, it was only $25, which is like 75% off of what most marathons cost. Two, I misread the title and I could have sworn I was signed up to run a Lord of the Rings themed marathon, where orcs would chase me down the course. Sadly when I showed up at the starting line, I looked a little out of place dressed like Aragorn.

I thought the two gingers were Rohirrim... you know... the horse people.

The website for this race made the claim that it was Ohio's oldest marathon, and that they proudly offered a no frills, bare bones race. Honestly this sounded kind of nice, because I don't need half the crap they do at marathons... live bands every mile, fitness expos, overpriced pictures and souveniers, or even the pre race dinners and after parties. I run because I really love running, all the other add ons don't appeal to me, I don't run for novelties like putting a 26.2 sticker on my car or getting a custom plaque with my finishing time engraved on it.

Training in between Shamrock and the ORRRC went well, I did a couple longer runs around 12-15 miles and kept up with the low fast miles. I knew I was going to be faster at ORRRC, I just didn't know by how much. I felt pretty confident going into race weekend, despite it only being two weeks after the last one. On a side note... I really think my recent conversion to vegetarianism is paying off. My recovery time and endurance seems to be increasing in a significant way.

I worked the night before, but still did really well with my race eve caloric intake, much more effecient than the beer I drank before Shamrock. I know what you're thinking and I know you're judging me right now... but come on! It's still carbs and the race was sponsored by Yuengling for cryin' out loud!

I got up at some ungodly hour the morning of the race after taking in about 5 hours of sleep. Even though the race started at 8AM, it was still at least an hours drive from my apartment, and I had no idea what the check-in process would be like or how long it would take.

Very happy to be up at 5AM.

I of course arrived to check in an hour early and was in yet another predicament concerning my attire. It was in the low 30's when I got out of my car, but it was a really dry cold, so very manageable. Then I overheard that the wind was supposed to pick up a bit, so I went from singlet to singlet with my jacket... which AGAIN ended up being tied around my waist. Check in was effortless, so I ended up just sitting in my car for a long while sipping on some Speedway coffee.

The starting line was behind the local YMCA in Xenia, and with significantly less than 200 runners I was really glad I didn't get lost, because you definitely could have driven past without knowing anything was going on. I knew my friend Mikayla from the Bigfoot 50K was running too, but hadn't seen her yet. I did recognize her fiance among the spectators who inadvertently (just kidding, it was probably intentional) took a picture of my ass.

Downtown District in the Sprawling Metropolis of Xenia, OH

I started out very slowly, just trying to warm up my legs a bit, then not very far in I recognized Mikayla's "Mad to Live" tattoo, and pulled alongside to say hi, see what her goal was, etc. I didn't feel comfortable being seen running alongside a dwarf, or umm midget, whatever they like to be called... I can't remember, so I said my goodbyes and picked up my pace.

The course turned a few times through town, with slight inclines here and there before hitting a long stretch of road that led to a bike path. I was within seconds of the same pace I had at the start of Shamrock and playing strategies off of some of the people around me. I eventually settled into a group of four guys that had a comfortable pace. Being the marathon runner I am, I didn't check the course map at all before the race, so I had no idea of where anything was. I soon lost my pace group as they were just running the half. After they, and pretty much everyone around me, split off to the left I was alone for a good portion of time, but could see two runners way ahead of me. The game I played for the next hour was to catch them. This actually became a really great idea, and kept me from slacking off in my pace.

The course then left the bike path, joined back up with the road and did a wide loop past several farms. This portion was really enjoyable and almost nostalgic for me because it reminded me of doing my 3 mile loops back home in rural Pennsylvania. Early into the loop I had caught the first of the two runners I had been chasing, paced with him for several miles until we came back around, and then I let him pass me, his pace was just a bit too fast to be comfortable and I couldn't find my breathing rhythm for some reason.

Not too much longer after I let him pass I hit the bike trail again and finally reached the half way point. From then on it really seemed like I was on a normal long run, and I wasn't really concerned with anything. This made for an enjoyable second half, where I joked with aid station volunteers, bullshitted with fellow runners who were either in more pain than I was or taking the race much more seriously than me because they weren't as happy go lucky. Up until the last few few miles I was very much in my running induced state of extreme happiness.

Towards the end as it approached 11:45 AM I knew that my super supportive and beautiful girlfriend Kayla and her son Braxton, were probably just getting into Xenia to see me cross the finish line. This brought me quite a bit of motivation to maintain my pace, but I could feel the cramps coming on, and there was nothing I could do about that.

Adding on to everything I was continually looking at my watch, trying to do the math of my projected finish. I knew I was really close to being on pace to breaking 3:40 for the first time. I shed my jacket for the final 6 miles, started aggressively using my remaining gels, and pounding water. The cramps kept coming and I kept being reduced to a walking pace during the home stretch. I was passed by 3 or 4 women in the last few miles (which after checking the results I saw that they were actually the front running females, so I didn't feel too bad.) and was largely by myself.

I came off the bike path, with under a mile to go, and ran with a gimpy stride towards the YMCA finish line. The cramping was so significant that my MOH run didn't look nearly as bad ass as it usually does, and I took an extra kick in the balls when I looked up at the clock to see that I was probably not going to get my PR.

My official time was 3:42:56 which is 1:58 slower than my current PR... BUT it was a solid 6 minutes faster than VA Beach just two weeks prior. Honestly, with my race schedule being so packed this year and having three more shots at running a marathon PR, I am quite pleased with where I'm at.

RACE STATS:

Official Time: 3:42:56 @ 8:31/mi

43rd of 168 Overall
36th of 123 Men
3rd of 6 Men 18-24

1st 6mi: 44:15 @ 7:23/mi in 19th place (This pisses me off, clearly I need to work on consistency)

Race Report: The Shamrock Yuengling Marathon and TowneBank 8K

2011-04-09T15:10:00.002-04:00

At the end of 2010 I began to carefully outline my race schedule for the coming year. My plan was to fill in large gaps between my must-do races with others that seemed like they could be fun. My reasoning was simple... I'm lazy when it comes to training, so I figured the packed schedule would keep me motivated and reduce my mindset of procrastination.

My friend Meredith from work told me I should check out the Shamrock Marathon in Virginia Beach. Her sister is a fellow runner and had mentioned to her that she really had a lot of fun participating in it a few years back. I wasn't completely sold on the idea at first because of the driving distance from Ohio, but once I found out it was sponsored by Yuengling, my decision was all but made. When I went online to register, I saw like many marathons, that it was an entire weekend of events. A liberally promoted competition was the "Whale Challenge", which basically means you would run the 8K on Saturday and also compete in the full marathon on Sunday. I have never run any competitive distance shorter than a marathon since high school track, so an 8K didn't sound all that attractive... but the word challenge coupled with the fact I needed a nice short shake out run before the marathon was. So I signed up for both.

The last time I raced was at the Bigfoot 50K in early December where I essentially ran on a supposedly broken/sprained ankle. After that I took quite a bit of time off to heal up for this year and then started from scratch. Almost all my runs in January were 3-5 miles long and increasingly fast. I've ran marathons on pretty sporadic/nonexistent training before so I decided to see how well I could do if I only trained with short fast mileage. Someone asked me the other day if I think marathons are easy since I have done ultras... my confidence in not following any remotely orthodox marathon training for the Shamrock wasn't because I think marathons are easy, because I have repeatedly failed my goals in running them, but I do know that any time I toe the line in a marathon, I will finish it.

So by the time it came to the weekend of Shamrock I had only ran two "long" runs of 14 miles apiece. However my training log was filled with runs that were some of my fastest since I started keeping track of them. I really began to wonder if I could see a strong marathon finish as a result of my experiment but it also made me much more interested in the 8K than I would have otherwise been.

This whole adventure was going to be done without a posse of supporters, which is a rare situation, because typically I have other runners traveling with me as well as friends to support us. I hate going to races alone, because I'm not outgoing enough to make weekend long friendships, and there is nothing to distract me from the pre-race anxiety. I found out not long in advance that a couple of the Marines I served with in Iraq would be running as well, both of whom I have spent some memorable miles with in the past. Chongo was leading a group of runners in memory of the Marines from 1/8 lost in Fallujah and Sgt. Huffman was running in memory of LCpl. Jourdan Grez. Also quite a number of acquaintances from Team X-T.R.E.M.E and Semper Fidelis Health and Wellness were going to be in the area for the races. So I ended up not being nearly as much of a lone wolf as I had anticipated, which was quite a blessing.

I worked a double going into Friday morning of race weekend, partly to make up hours I would be missing for the trip and partly to get my insomnia in check for a few days so I would be able to sleep before the race. This made the 13 hour drive to Virginia Beach almost intolerable to do solo. By the time I got to my hotel I had been up close to 40 hours and still had to get to the expo for packet pickup. I must say this about the expo... I have never participated in a race that had such a well organized packet pickup process. The logistics guy running this thing has something figured out that he needs to pass along to other RD's.

After getting my bib numbers, t-shirts, goodie bags, and some gel packs I headed back to the hotel to finally sleep.

TowneBank 8K

This is what I call "Combat Readiness"

I woke up Saturday morning 10 minutes before my alarm, feeling like a million bucks, and ready to run the 8K. I put on my gear and headed out the door at a quarter till 7, not sure how long it would take me to walk to the start line of the 8K. I ended up being nearly an hour early, but with the race starting in plain view of the Atlantic Ocean, I wasn't too upset. I'm not much of a water guy, but there is something really enchanting about looking out onto the water and not being able to fathom where it ends.

Watching the sun rise over the ocean is a hell of a way to start your morning.

Introverted as ever, I didn't utter a word at the race start. I was content to do so, I was just happy to be racing again. I didn't realize how much I missed the atmosphere surrounding a race, the slight apprehension welling up in my stomach, the fun of sizing up the people around you and wondering which of them will be be ahead of you and which will be behind once the race starts.

The 8K Starting Line

The start was staggered by corral, which was really nice. When you have thousands of people running down the street, it typically takes some time to really get into a fluid and comfortable pace, the staggered start really reduced the crowding. I quickly found some runners that seemed to be running a similar pace as myself, probably just around 7:00/mile and stayed close by them for the duration of the 8K. Going South on the long thin loop course wasn't the most scenic, but it felt like we were running on a slightly downward slope, and definitely had the wind pushing us. At the turn we headed a block to the East, putting us on the boardwalk as we ran North. I have never drafted in a race before, for two simple reasons, one is that it had never even occurred to me and two is I have never been in a race where I would have needed to. Apparently it's really windy near the ocean, which I wasn't aware of since this was at most only the 3rd or 4th time I had been to the beach. Heading North between the beach and all the oceanfront hotels was like running into a tropical storm. I quickly realized it was much more efficient to run behind and slightly to the left of someone until I could pass them and pick up another runner to draft off of. One of the reasons I prefer ultras is that I love the strategy that you have to implement to make it through. This wasn't exactly on that level, but it did provide an exciting element that I had no anticipation of. Just before Neptune Park where we would later cross the finish line heading South, we took two quick turns to head back onto Atlantic Avenue, this time heading North. This was where I started to lose my legs a bit and I had to intentionally make sure I kept my form from going to hell. I had probably under a mile to go, so I just needed to maintain a brisk pace until the finish line was in view where I would burn up the speed I knew I could still get out of my legs. I looked around me and saw that a few of the guys I was pacing off of in the beginning were still with me, so I knew I had been fairly consistent with my speed. Making the final turn to head South back down the boardwalk, this time with the wind in my favor and the finish line in sight, I let it all out.

This was my "Medal of Honor" run.

To my great surprise, one of the original guys I had started with joined me, so it was a mad dash to an epic end. I crossed the finish line at 34:41 with my late opponent just a second behind, both finishing the 8K with a sub-7:00/mile pace. Once we caught I breath from the sprint, we congratulated one another and wished each other luck in the next days race, as we were both competing in the "Whale Challenge".

Yuengling Marathon

Prepping for marathon morning started out well, I felt rested, had plenty of time, and was fairly calm about what the next few hours would bring. Then I walked outside. It was freezing and the wind was nothing short of ridiculous. I hate dressing for a race when you know the weather is probably going to change a half dozen times during the run. You wear too much and then you end up carrying clothes or dropping them somewhere, never to be seen again... you wear too little and you feel like you are going to lose body parts to frostbite or die of hypothermia a couple hours into the race. I shook my fist at the sky, cursed, then headed back up to my room to put something else on. I went with the longs sleeve Brooks uniform and my jacket, then headed to the starting line with a cup of thickest coffee I've ever drank.

My Original Choice, Thwarted By Wind

The marathon starting line was several blocks further up than the 8K was, but I still made it up there a full hour before I needed to. This time I didn't have the ocean to look at, but I did get to watch the half marathon kick off at 7AM. I honestly thought both races started together, so I had an hour to kill. I honestly have never been so close to deciding not to race, the wind was unbearably cold. Runners were piling into random stores, hotel lobbies, and even parking garages to escape the elements. I found refuge inside a 7-Eleven where I spent a good 30 minutes waiting to buy a pop tart and a small coffee. Nearing the 8AM start we were told there would be a 15 minute delay to avoid course conflicts with the half marathoners, but thankfully by that time the sun had started to rise enough to dissipate some of the chilly air.

I hung out at the start line near the 3:40 pacers, figuring I would hang out there to start and then work my way up as we went on. They staggered the start, just as they did with the 8K, so the first mile was really smooth. We headed South on Atlantic Ave with a tailwind, and then made a sharp West turn away from the ocean, and towards more neighborhood-like areas. Except for a slight incline on a bridge, the course was consistently flat, having no perceivable elevation changes. Somewhere between mile 4 and 5, we started to see the front runners coming the other way from the turnaround. I love courses where this happens, I love seeing the rock stars of the event flying past, it's kind of an amazing thing to witness. It was about this time that I began to catch up with the 3:30 pacers and decided I needed to remove my jacket, which then became an annoying mass tied around my waist. By the race end, just as I predicted, I was wishing I had just manned up and worn just a singlet, because it had gotten warm enough that the long sleeve uniform was even too much. Just as I began to wonder how Huffman and Chongo were doing, I passed them coming the other way, Huffman about 10 minutes and Chongo about 25 minutes behind me. We exchanged some spirited war cries and oorahs, and went on with business. I had fought the urge to stop to piss up until this point, but decided it was better to get it over with and I stopped for about 15 seconds just after mile 7.

I don't know why all those dudes are looking at my butt.

I was feeling really great at this point, I usually break down races in my mind to smaller distances, 7 is usually my first mental checkpoint in a marathon because it means I have less than 20 to go. The timing station at mile 7 clocked me at 53:25 which is a 7:38 pace, which I was more than happy with. The next stretch took us through Camp Pendleton, which I believe is some sort of multi purpose Naval base. There was a good amount of crowd support from the squids, which helped me maintain the pace I was on before we headed back over to Atlantic Ave. Going against the wind at this point wasn't as bad as it would have been a few hours earlier, but I definitely had to give a little more thought to my form with the added resistance. A few miles up I saw Elijah and Jeremy, two fellow Marines of like mind in the crowd. They typically race with gas masks on to raise money for the Wounded Warrior Project and are heavily involved with military charities and other pretty bad ass stuff, so it was a good morale boost as I neared the half way mark.

The half way point was just a few blocks North of where we started at, so I began to envision the course outline as a figure-8, knowing the first half had been pretty good to me I was still confident. I knew I had about 7 miles before heading South again to the finish line. I hit the half at 1:40:16, running at about a 7:40 pace... just a hair from what I had maintained in the first 7... this was a good sign.

We again passed the front runners coming the other way a few more miles up, on their way to marathon times I will never aspire to. (The winner finished with a time of 2:18:24, that's a 5:17/mi pace.) We left Atlantic Ave. around mile 16 and headed down a road that was nice and shady with trees lining both sides. I loved this section, because by this time the runners were distributed pretty nicely along the course and it just felt like I was on a nice long run by myself. I knew I was still doing pretty well on time, because I had long ago passed the 3:30 pace group and hadn't seen them for quite some time. Nearing mile 18 I began to get nervous, because my wall in marathons is ALWAYS at mile 18. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me when I hit it, because I have run much further in ultras before hitting it, and have gone on longer training runs without issue. I debated in my head why this could be, and I decided that it was more my mind playing tricks than it was an actual physical breakdown. There was no way I was going to let it hit me this time.

As I passed mile 18 I was clocked at 2:21:05, still on pace for a good finish with 8.2 miles to go, but I was definitely slowing down and my average pace dropped 10 seconds/mile slower. I ran with intent, trying to reach the point when everyone cheering you on yells out "Just a 10K left, just a 10K!" That's the mental checkpoint where I think about the last 6.2 miles like it's my river trail loop of a similar distance that I do for my junk miles at home.

At mile 21 the I saw the 3:30 pace group for the first time since probably mile 5 as they passed by me. I couldn't keep up with them for long, but my legs were still moving. I figured I had to just keep running as well as I felt comfortable with, then use anything I had left on the last two or three miles. Just past mile 22 my right calf locked up, which I tried to run through, but then came the left, and then my quads. I had been popping gels regularly, but I've raced enough to know that I should have been doing it with far more frequency, and in hindsight I probably hadn't hydrated well enough either. All good things to think about, but it was a little late for that now. I came to a very painful walking pace, trying to unknot my muscles on the move.

This is what I call "Epic Walking"

I walked for about 5 minutes, being passed up by familiar faces that were returning the favor from earlier. I wondered then if I should just keep walking until Huffman caught up to me so we could finish together, but then as the the 3:40 group passed without him among the runners I thought he might be having a similar calamity as I. Seeing the 3:40 group made me suck it up and start running again, I have only had one marathon outside of the 3:40's and it was because of a pulled groin, so there was no way I wanted to let this one go, when there wasn't a really good reason for a poor finish.

I couldn't catch the 3:40 group as hard as I tried. Any good stretch of running ended with me cramping up and being forced to walk. As soon as the cramps unknotted even a little bit I would start running again. This continued until the very last mile where I looked back, not seeing the 3:50 group I stopped, stretched my calves on the curb, drank the last of my water, and then ran through the cramping for the last mile, with my burst of speed at the end. I've never finished a marathon in any other fashion than balls to the wall, and this was no exception.

I was murmuring curse words in between breaths at this point.

I finished with a time of 3:48:52 which I wasn't exactly thrilled about, particularly with how well I ran the first 18 miles. It was however my 4th marathon finish, a solid start to a promising year of racing, and if nothing else... a very good training run for what's to come. The depressing part is when I figured out my pace from mile 18 to the finish... 8.2 miles at a "I want to slit my wrists" rate of 10:43/mile.

You wouldn't think someone would trust any of us with weapons.

Clearly the short fast training runs helped make me a bad ass in the first 18 but I, like the Steelers in every game last year, I just couldn't finish. Here's to room for improvement and many chances for redemption!

Beyond the Body

2011-02-15T06:27:00.000-05:00

There is a certain phenomenon that happens for many runners that makes running way more than just exercise or a competition, and honestly it's the primary benefit I personally get from running... it's the spiritual experience that comes from your mind and body working together, forming an addictive union that's a bit difficult to fully explain. It's not the "runners high" everyone talks about, it's something a bit deeper and more powerful than that. You can't really deny something you experience firsthand, but it's certainly open for interpretation, so not everyone who has felt this will come to the same conclusions about it as I do.

I've been a Christian for about 10 years, and had ups and downs over that period of time, even stretches where I tried to walk away from God, but you can't abandon something when you really do believe it to be true. I respect other beliefs, I even find great truths and values in some other faiths, but when it comes down to it, I see it all pointing towards Christ. I'm not explaining my faith to convert the people that might read this or to argue over religion, but to more effectively explain how I interpret my firsthand experiences. No matter what specific conclusions you come to about what you believe, spiritual experiences are very real events, and I believe running is one means by which they occur for me.

In "Chariots of Fire", probably the most famous movie concerning running, one of the main characters explains his motivation for running with the oft quoted line, "I believe God made me for a purpose, but He also made me fast, and when I run I feel His pleasure." Whoever wrote that line in the script is almost certainly a runner and has a pretty solid understanding of worship. That union I talked about before is personally my purest form of giving praise to God, so when I first heard this I instantly related. God, to my dismay, didn't make me very fast. He did however give me a talent to run far and a passion to love doing it.

When it comes down to it, I think every relationship and every experience reflects a portion of God's character and His plan for us, and for me to embrace that recognition and fully enjoy it is worship. My feet striking the ground in appropriate rhythm, my breathing and heart rate evening out to the place where I feel like I could run for days, my back straight, head up, and feeling each muscle in my body almost individually. Then reaching the point where my head clears... I don't have to remind myself about form, the elements aren't concerning even if they are inclement, I'm not nervous, I'm not angry, I'm not sad, or any of the other negative emotions I almost certainly felt at some point in the day before my run. I stop looking at my watch, I stop worrying about where I have to be later, or worrying about a cut off time... I'm just running. That's exactly where it happens. Your mind, perfectly clear a minute ago, floods like a dam was just breached... you begin to notice everything. It starts externally... the trees, the trail, the sky, the breeze, the rain, the snow. Then you begin to think of how grateful you are to be able to experience all of it in that moment. This is where you see people fall in love with running. This is where people like me become ultrarunners. This is where I experience God. It's a spiritual experience for some, but for me it is the unadulterated worship of my Creator.

I don't think it's any coincidence that the Apostle Paul compared following God to running a race, it was very deliberate and he did on multiple occasions throughout his letters. The ups and downs, the pain, the elation, the camaraderie, the importance of training and preparation, maintaining yourself, being aware of the course, having patience, working through injury, they are all perfect analogies. The longer the race the more evident the parallels are. The absolute joy and relief in finishing, the desire to see others cross the finish line, and then celebrating with each other? That's Heaven.

Race Schedule for 2011

2010-12-08T05:45:00.004-05:00

The Yuengling Shamrock Marathon   26.2 Miles
March 20th 2011
Virginia Beach, VA

ORRRC Marathon 26.2 Miles
April 3rd 2011
Xenia, OH

Tie-Dye 50K 50 Kilometers
April 23rd 2011
Yellow Springs, OH

Capon Valley 50K 50 Kilometers
May 7th 2011
Yellow Spring, WV

The Pittsburgh Marathon 26.2 Miles
May 15th 2011
Pittsburgh, PA

The Memorial 100 100 Miles
May 27-28th 2011
Richmond, VA

The Laurel Ultra 77 Miles
June 11th 2011
Ohiopyle, PA

The Burning River 100 100 Miles
July 30th 2011
Willoughby Hills, OH

Youngstown Ultra Trail Classic 50 Kilometers
September 17th 2011
Youngstown, OH

The Columbus Marathon    26.2 Miles
October 16th 2011
Columbus, OH

The Marine Corps Marathon     26.2 Miles
October 30th 2011
Arlington, VA

Mountain Masochist Trail Run * 50 Miles
November 6th 2011
Lynchburg, VA

Big Foot 50K * 50 Kilometers
December 4th 2011
Lore City, OH

* Denotes that I have not registered for the race yet, most of which is due to registration not currently being open

Race Report: Bigfoot 50K

2010-12-06T06:00:00.001-05:00

I have enjoyed writing this blog over the past year, and often have been pleasantly surprised at the relationships and encouragement it has brought me. Early on it was a huge catalyst in getting people involved with the Memorial 100 and gained me invaluable friendships with people that have since become a huge part of my life, like Heather Duncan, who randomly stumbled across this and has since become a great friend.

What I didn't expect was for people to continue to be interested in my running exploits that weren't as flashy as those of Memorial Day. However after I published my race report for the Columbus Marathon my blog hits increased exponentially and more and more people started approaching me about my running and also sharing their stories and goals in the sport. Debbie Talbott read that same blog after I posted it on the marathons Facebook page, and approached me about wanting to run her first ultramarathon. I love helping people get into running ultras... they are such a unique experience to be a part of that you almost can't help but to want other people to do them too.

I gave her as much advice as I could, in addition to a loose outline of how she should train, and promised I would help her reach her goal. I picked the Bigfoot 50K, even though I had never heard anything about it, because it was local and soon enough that we could both piggyback off of our recent training for other races.

I contemplated at first to let her run her own race and I run mine, having my part be limited to the pre-race preparations, mostly because I had delusions of being able to secure a top 10 finish. I should have never even considered that approach though, for several reasons. One, finishing in the top 10 really was a delusion, at least this year anyways. Two, there is no way to prepare someone for the mental battle that takes place during a race of that length. Finally, if she would have failed, it would have been because I didn't see her through to the finish. The only reason I signed up for the race was her, so it was selfish to have had thoughts of letting her do it on her own.

After injuring my left ankle at the Masochist, my decision was made for me. There was no way I would be fast enough to compete without all the speed work I had to forfeit in the last 3 weeks because of my ankle. My goal now, as it should have been all along, was to do whatever it took to get Debbie her first 50K finish. Another surprise came when I found out that my friend, Tad Inboden, would be running the race too. I had spent a large portion of the Columbus Marathon with him, and this was to be his first ultra as well. He was coming off of an impressive first marathon finish of 3:28:49, which was a solid 12 minutes faster than me. I knew Debbie and I probably wouldn't be staying with Tad, but it was nice to know that another friend was going for their first. In addition to Tad and Debbie, my recent acquaintance and future training buddy Mike Keller, was going to attempt to get a 50K PR at the Bigfoot.

Leading into the race I knew my fitness level was down, but I didn't see it as any significant issue as I wasn't going full bore anyhow. I had finished the Masochist less than a month prior and even with my ankle, I had gotten 3 or 4 runs in between. This was not going to be like the Masochist, so I wasn't worried. However, just days prior to the race, illness had hit both Debbie and myself, depleting our rest and caloric base. Doing these things isn't always this suspenseful, but I assure you, there is always going to be something that doesn't go your way. It's just the nature of it.

I failed at my attempts at sleeping before the race, so I decided to spend the night at the coffee house until I had to start my 4am drive to Lore City. What was more unexpected was a 3am text message from Debbie, who was already at the Salt Fork Lodge, asking me to pick up some pepto bismal on my way out. The race hadn't begun, but the struggle was already in full swing.

Upon my arrival, the last minute checks began and the start was imminent. I met up with Debbie and her husband Naryan, as well as Tad, his wife and sister in law. I went over some tips, got Tad hooked up with a better hydration plan, and went outside in the windy, snowy, 27 degree weather to kick it all off.

No one could hear a word the race director was saying to us, so Tad and I spent the last 10 minutes making sarcastic comments and jokes. Our journey began with a very short parking lot run, before turning into the woods, where we would spend most of the day. As the crowd thinned out, the packs began to emerge. Debbie was having a difficult time finding her rhythm, so we were having a hell of a time staying with a pack to pace off of for the first part of the race. The course was surprisingly technical, with a good variety of short climbs and descents, as well as long stretches of really runnable single track. There was a couple small creek crossings here and there, but overall an extremely quick course, that was fairly interesting. The first few miles contained the bulk of the ascents, but there were no ball breakers to be found, which I was thankful for. At the midway point of the first loop, Debbie was starting to have some stomach issues, that were still manageable at the time. We passed up the first aid station, that was supposedly right around the 5-mile mark but in reality was closer to 6 miles. That was kind of deceiving the first time around, because I started to become a bit concerned about our pace. There was probably a good mile long stretch of pavement in the middle of the loop, that I wasn't particularly fond of. I find asphalt in the middle of a trail run to be monotonous. The second "half" of the first loop back to the lodge I had to coax Debbie into more running than she wanted to do as her stomach issues continued to worsen. Knowing that Naryan was waiting with more pepto bismal and two cups of chicken broth was probably more motivating than my attempts, but she pushed hard through the much easier second half. We had one nearly cataclysmic set back when we reached a confusing jumble of ribbons that weren't exactly clear. There were runners coming and going in multiple directions, so we chose the path that looked like it made sense. We were wrong. Luckily someone saw our mistake and directed us back to the correct turn that would take us up to the lodge. Although they could have marked it a bit better, this was mostly my fault for not reviewing the course map. Instead of a true loop, it was a lollipop course, which I might have noticed at the start if it had been light outside the first time we came down into it. We probably ran 10 extra minutes with the mistake, but in the end it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.

We rolled into the first checkpoint at just over 2 hours, well on pace for a solid finish. I knew we would slow down, which was fine, as we had a 2-hour cushion. The break at the lodge was probably a bit longer than it should have been, but we ran into Mikayla, one of Debbie's friends who was running the race as well. All of us fueled up, took a little breather, and took comfort that the next aid station we would see was the half-way mark. Debbie was a bit emotional at this point, probably just beginning to question herself, but she was still in good shape. Mikayla decided to stick with us after the lodge, so we formed our own 3-person pack and took back off into the woods.

After we descended into the woods, made a creek crossing, and went through the turn we had preemptively made just 20 minutes before, Debbie began to deteriorate quickly. Her stomach was leading a coup d'état against the rest of her body, and she began to really fight the battle I had anticipated she would see at some point during the 32 miles. I've fought the same fight before, and even lost it a couple times, so I knew we might be in big trouble. Ailments like this in a race usually come in hard and quick, but typically if you outlast them they will go away. This isn't always the case, but I feigned certainty in my reassurances to her so that she would keep going. One of the most important lessons of running ultras was taught on that second loop: forward progress, however slow it might be, is infinitely better than stopping to take a break. It sounds easy on paper, but when you are experiencing a whole new level of pain, it doesn't matter if you're in the middle of the woods, you just want to stop moving. It was a real struggle to keep her moving so that we could get to the aid station, she had determined it was a lack of food that was causing her issues, so that's what we were after. That's another lesson, when your main goals look to be out of reach, set short ones that you can convince yourself of. Debbie was determined to get to the station, but the look on her face told me that she wasn't planning on going any further. I called her out on it, because if you deal with the dark thoughts by yourself, they'll win. When we finally made it, she was emotional again, and drew quite a bit of attention from the volunteers who, by the way, were great, as they always are during ultras. She got enough confidence at the aid station that we left without too much of a hold up. Mikayla looked like she was doing great, but I briefly had some dark thoughts of my own. I didn't share them at the time, because I knew they'd be like a cancer, but my ankle was beginning to hurt like hell and I was almost to the point of hoping I wouldn't be able to convince Debbie to go on past the second loop, because I wouldn't have minded dropping myself out with her. As we ran on the asphalt towards the re-entry to the trail, Debbie stopped briefly to convince us to go back to the aid station so she could drop. It didn't take much prodding to change her mind, as I used Naryan's location against her. I convinced her to get back to the lodge. I'm not sure what thoughts Mikayla was having, but she picked up her pace and vanished ahead of us into the woods. After a small climb at the trailhead Debbie surprised the hell out of me and started a solid running campaign of about 20 or 25 minutes. We started catching people, and for the first time without my lead, we were passing them. I love these points in the race. You just went through hell, came out on top, and now you're in the zone. We ran without talking, I chuckled to myself knowing that she broke through her wall, and I didn't dare interrupt it. We caught up to Mikayla and Debbie took lead over her and we began running as a pack again. The last half of that second loop was our fastest section of the race. I wasn't sure what Debbie would do once we reached the lodge, but I knew we were still in good shape for a finish. We reached the lodge around the 5 hour mark, leaving 3 hours to finish the final 10.4 mile loop. Debbie had enough fuel back in her tank for motivation that there wasn't even a fight to get her to go back out again. We again refueled and set out on the last loop.

Knowing you have 3-hours is a good thing to get you to venture on, but a bad thing to make you push. We could have conceivably walked the last loop, but I wasn't going to let it come to that. We let Debbie lead the rest of the way for two reasons, the first was that she seemed to make a stronger effort when she was out front, and secondly, we wanted her to be able to dictate the alternation between running and walking. The final lap was without incident, and my role as a motivational speaker was lessened. We walked as we pleased, and it took little effort to incite short sections of running. When we came to the aid station for the final time, we were all in good spirits and had an hour and a half to complete the section that we had most recently done in around 45 minutes. I began to push for a sub 7:30 finish against Debbie's will. We were at a point where we were certain of a finish, so it was a bit of a challenge to convince her to run, because in theory we probably didn't have to. As we saw the mess of ribbons that had delayed us hours before, we were in the homestretch. One last hurrah to the end. As we came to the top of the hill where the trail leads to the parking lot Mikayla picked up her pace for a running finish, I stayed back with Debbie until the final 30 yards and took off, and Debbie ran in for her first ultra finish.

It was cold, muddy, snowed almost the entire time, and sucked for a good portion of the day, but the results were amazing. Debbie and Mikayla both finished their first ultra in just over 7 hours and 30 minutes, and I finished my 4th ultra, and second 50K. It took me an hour more to find out that Tad had finished his first 50K at 6:17 and Mike Keller set a personal record of 5:59:08.

This was a great race on a decent course, and I think I might try my hand at it again next year. However, now that Tad and Debbie have skimmed the water, the goal I intend to impose on them is that fabled 50 Horton miles of Masochism in the mountains of Virginia.

My next scheduled race is the Shamrock Marathon in March... but I have a funny feeling that you won't have to wait that long for another race report.

How I Have Been "Inspired Daily"

2010-11-17T17:26:00.000-05:00

In 2009, a dream of mine from high school began to materialize into reality when I started competing in marathons and ultras. By the end of the year I was addicted and I knew I wasn't going to be a one and done kind of guy. I was looking to give my running legitimacy by getting involved in the promotion of the sport with others that share my passion for it. My goal for 2010 was to make a positive impact in my community with my so called "individual" sport.

Last December I turned to a Brooks, a brand that I have loved and used since I was a teenager, to see if they could help me. I discovered their "Inspire Daily" program, which is designed to assist it's members in the promotion of running, being physically active and the Brooks brand. I applied, thinking that my chances of actually running for Brooks was pretty slim. After all, I was green in the sport and didn't exactly have the gaudy statistics that some of my fellow runners did. I have never qualified for Boston, only finished a handful of races, and certainly haven't won any. Despite the application saying that qualified individuals are "winners in their own right", I was still surprised and ecstatic when they approved my involvement.

Several other companies approved entry level sponsorship requests from me, but none of which that I am more proud to be associated with than Brooks. Their level of commitment to me and my pursuits as a runner have been unmatched. Not only that, but the community I have been introduced to is nothing short of amazing. My fellow Brooks athletes raise the bar in terms of advocacy, not only for our sport, but hundreds of different philanthropic efforts within their communities.

My cohorts, donning their bright yellow singlets and nearly obscene running shorts, have become some of my best friends and most fervent supporters. Several of my races this year have been for the sake of raising awareness and donations for various charities, and I have relied on this circle of friends to help me become incredibly successful in reaching my goals. When I have made my goals public, my inbox has been flooded with encouragement, the word has been spread, and donations have been made on my behalf.

Every time I turn around I feel like I see another effort to use running to make a difference in peoples lives, and that has been inspiring to me.

The In Between

2010-11-13T06:07:00.000-05:00

With the Masochist behind me I have just one challenge left for 2010 before my mind shifts to new goals for the next year. Typically after a race I am pumped up and the week following I put in a decent amount of mileage, but since last Saturday I have laid dormant in light of injury concerns.

The 50 Horton Miles (longer than the standard mile) left me a little more beat up than last year when I jumped right back into running just four days later. My left ankle has been slightly swollen and very stiff for the last 6 days, so with my next race just weeks away I decided to give it a rest. My theory is that if I was able to run 50 miles, then 50 kilometers shouldn't require too much more training in the break between, so the rest time is more important.

I plan on testing my legs on a short run today and if it holds up I will be blasting miles away on the trails to get ready for my big finale at the Big Foot 50K on December 6th. The 50K wasn't part of my original schedule, but I decided after the Columbus Marathon to add it so I could help a recent acquaintance run her very first ultra. I haven't run a 50K since my very first race last February at Holiday Lake, so it should be interesting to see how I perform.

This is the inaugural year for the Big Foot 50K, which is a 3-loop trail course near Lore City, OH. I'm not sure what to expect at this point, but my suspicion and hope is that the field will be tame. I base this one two factors... one is that because it's the first running, the faster blokes won't be coming out of the woodwork... two is because it's Ohio, who comes to Ohio to run ultramarathons???

My fantasy is that I have a shot at winning, or at least competing for top honors. If my new apprentice feels confident enough on her own, that's what I am shooting for. However, as my performance from last Saturday taught me, you always have to be prepared for things not going as well as you had planned. I don't know how hilly or technical the loop is going to be, but since we are in the Buckeye State, I am fairly certain it's not going to be anything near as difficult as the races I have done in Virginia or Pennsylvania. The 3-loop course and evenly proportioned aid stations are going to serve me well in judging distance, pacing, and refueling. If I can get some good training in during the next two weeks, there is no reason I shouldn't be able to run the entire time and be damned fast doing it.

Race Report: MMTR 2010

2010-11-10T15:43:00.001-05:00

Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moon light? Neither have I, but I did run 50 miles this past weekend. Coming into the last Saturday of my relatively short running career, I had completed one 50K, three marathons, and one 50 miler. (I also have a failed attempt at a 77 miler, but lets not go there) Last year the Masochist was the big one, the one that I felt would make me 2legit2quit, the one I wasn't sure I could finish.

A year ago I was in a deep dark place in my life, which is usually reflected outwardly by a lack of running, heavy drinking, and a more than prominent use of tobacco products. I went to the Masochist without a crew, knowing I hadn't run further than 20 miles in several months, and being so nervous about my certain failure that I was finishing up a cigarette less than 5 minutes before the race started so that I could at least calm down.

In ultras, the length of the course and the number of participants allows the field to be spread out to the point where you might be alone for significant portions of time. Last year I didn't wear a watch, and I never pay attention to cut off times at the aid stations, lest they convince me to go slower or faster than I should be going. So I spent almost the entire 2009 race under the impression that I was barely in it and it was only a matter of time before they stopped me from continuing on. I had no idea how well I was doing until after The Loop, just before mile 40. I was keeping pace with two other runners and fearfully asked, "So, do you think we are going to finish this thing?" They both laughed, which I wasn't sure how to take at first, until the one runner answered, "Oh yeah, we are doing fine man, more than enough time to get to Montebello."

I crossed the finish line at 10:07:35, to my great surprise, as the 75th finisher. It made me wonder if I had some sort of superpower that enabled me to perform without training and in spite of body killing habits.

That was last year.

This time around the block I was to have a crew, and three other friends from Columbus in it with me. I expected my friends Betsy and David to be a non-factor in my race, their goal was only to finish together, and my plan was to be at least in the top 75. My worry was the third friend, Matty, who is by nature, a stronger runner than myself. Pride had been an issue since the day we both registered. All of my training was done nervously, wondering if he was training more, training harder, and if I had any chance of finishing faster. Just weeks before the race he told us that he would not be making the trip, and I, in all honesty was relieved. The pressure to perform was off. I did however train for the epic showdown, so I developed a new goal. I wanted to be in the top 25. I estimated from previous Masochist results that I would need to run the distance in a time of about 8:45, an hour and a half faster than last year.

My training was still suspect, but I did have several strong 25+ mile training runs under my belt, smoke free lungs, and a largely dormant drinking habit. I knew the places on the course last year that I had regretted not being more aggressive on, and figured if I could tweak my performance on a few sections, and generally be just a bit quicker, I would have no issues with improving upon 2009's race.

I left Columbus, my disturbingly flat place of residence, Friday morning after making some last minute purchases at FrontRunner. I arrived in Lynchburg just as the pre-race festivities began and met David, Betsy, and several of their family members in the lobby of the Kirkley Hotel. One day I will actually participate in all the extra stuff before and after races, but this time I just dropped in to pick up my race bag, before heading out to dinner with our crew.

The eve of the race was spent carb loading, getting muscles loose in the hot tub, and organizing my race bag and gear. I then did something completely unprecedented and slept. I am a chronic insomniac and routinely have trouble sleeping, particularly before races, so this was a pretty big deal and just added to my tally of advantages over last years preparations.

We woke up at 4:15 AM, and I had a ClifBar for breakfast and got dressed for the 30 degree weather we would have to start in. Following the buses to the start line I was calmer than I had anticipated being, but that queasy feeling that comes when you think about the fact that you are going to spend at least 8 hours of your day running was still present.

After checking in, taking some pictures, a few words and a prayer, the race began and we headed down the Blue Ridge Parkway. I had tweaked my left quad playing soccer the week before, so my plan was to start out nice and slow until I was sure it wouldn't be a factor. The first 5 miles of the corse is all asphalt, after about a mile of taking it easy, I picked it up, knowing that once we got to some of the bigger climbs and more technical sections, I wouldn't have the option of going this fast. I cruised down to the first aid station in a respectable time, somewhere around an 8:30/mi pace before heading into the trail.

Heading into the trail, I hadn't walked any portion yet, and my goal was to avoid it for any significant lengths until Long Mountain, a couple miles before the half way mark. I love running trail, it's exciting and fun, and after running the first 5 miles on the road, it was like drug. I was tearing my way through it pretty well, and I realized that the mild irritation in my quad was completely gone, which was a great sign. The runners were bunched in small groups on the trail, so my method was to stay with whatever group I was with on the flats, try to keep up with them on the climbs. I found out at the Laurel Ultra, that I am a really strong downhill runner, and it serves me very well, so I used those opportunities to gain ground and catch the next group to pace off of. Coming into Aid Station #4, I was on the exact same pace as I was in the year prior. I really do mean exact... to the second. The crew was at that check point, but I still had plenty of water, plenty of everything else, and I was feeling great, so I ran through. I was just around 15 miles into this thing, still under 11 minute miles, but knowing the difficult sections were yet to come.

Before you get the joy of knowing you are half way done, you have to climb Long Mountain. I don't know how long it actually is, but lets just say that the name is more than appropriate. It's not particularly steep, and it's not technical by any stretch of the imagination, but you better believe the damned thing is long. This is one of the sections I had hoped to improve on from last year, so I had it in my mind to be really conscious of how I was alternating running and walking. This is kind of difficult with other runners around you, because you don't want to walk simply because someone else is, but it's really tempting. I never catch people on climbs, but those were exactly my intentions on this one. Every time I saw the "top" of the mountain, it ended up being a turn instead, with another climb. When I finally did reach the actual end of it and saw I had a down hill, I wasn't nearly as motivated as on the previous sections. I kept saying to myself, "You have to run it if it's runnable. You have to run it if it's runnable" So I started running down the hill. I must have gone no more than a half mile when my quads began to cramp up. It was inevitable, it's happened in every single race I have been in, but I was hoping for it to hit me after the half.

The cramps were ridiculous for the last miles of the half, forcing me to walk sections to knew I would be gaining a lot of ground on had I been able to run them. The feeling this brings is terrible, when something goes wrong, and there isn't any good solution other than waiting for my Endurolyte pills to work their magic. Even though it was only about a marathon worth of running, when I came into the aid station, I was in bad shape mentally. I decided to finally make a pit stop, better to get my head back in the game now before Buck Mountain, than let my thoughts wander too far off on a hard climb. I changed socks, refilled my water, and ate some cookies. This was the second time I saw the crew (that now included Betsy who had to drop because of knee pain) and I found out David's plan was to try and catch up with me, but at this point I wasn't trying to make that easy for him. I had fallen off pace enough that my hope of a top 25 finish was a bit too ambitious, but I still had the potential to get a PR. Buck Mountain is the next big challenge after the half, and it was looming in front of me.

When I think back to Buck Mountain, I also think of another word that is strikingly similar to the name. It's not as long as Long Mountain, but it's steeper and your legs have already done quite a bit of work so it feels even worse than it actually is. As you climb you begin to hear the faint sound of music in the distance, growing louder with each painful step. You soon begin to realize you are listening to a constant loop of the Rocky theme song being blasted from the next check point at the top of the mountain.

Coming into the aid station I made an unwise decision to linger. I stayed there almost 10 minutes, eating snacks, and bullshitting (on a side note, that is apparently a real word) with a fellow Marine who was volunteering. When I finally did start start back down the trail I looked at my watch... I was falling way behind, and a PR was looking less and less likely. Despite being a good ways into the race, I would say nothing is really certain until you finish The Loop, which was my next big challenge.

As I came to The Loop, I noticed the different set up from last year, which was certainly an improvement. Sometimes when you run for hours on end, your mind isn't as sharp and the simplest things will confuse you, so the new design was appreciated. I only briefly slowed to talk to the crew because I wasn't in need of anything at the time, but I did find out that David was about 30 minutes behind me.

The Loop is my least favorite section of the course... legs that just ran a 50K don't really enjoy being subjected to a technical trail. At this point running on packed sand, or soft dirt on a gentle downward slope is about the only kind of path I would be happy about running. Instead I got rocky, root filled, single-track, with nonsensical turns and short, annoying climbs. This is the kind of stuff I would normally enjoy running, but the intricacies of it only serve to force painful movements. I tripped and rolled my ankles more times than I can count in this 5 mile section, but thankfully didn't face plant or twist anything too bad. I kept leap frogging with several other runners through the section making some conversation along the way. I knew that when we came back out of the woods we would basically be in the home stretch, and that if I kept my time on this section under an hour and a half that I could conceivably walk the rest of the way to Montebello if it came down to it. My highlight of The Loop, and the source of one of my new favorite quotes came from a conversation I had with a first time Masochist runner. I was keeping pace with a cute blonde girl, who like me, was fairly new to ultras, and I struck up a conversation. I asked her how she felt and her reply was priceless, "This is definitely the hardest race I have run. I think I'm in more pain than child birth... I have twin girls." The next time a woman uses child birth against me, I will certainly use that one on them.

When I finally came out of the woods, I was feeling pretty good, but needed a little refueling. I refilled my bottle, drank a couple cups of chicken noodle soup and found out that David was still just about 30 minutes behind me, and probably a couple of miles into The Loop.

I started the home stretch with new motivation, running more than I had since the first half. My cramping issues were minimal, so my body must have balanced things out a bit. I had a strong showing until the Forest Valley aid station at mile 43, where exhaustion seemed to completely set in. I knew with complete certainty that I would finish and the only thing I wanted to happen by then was for the race to be finished. I decided that the last 7 miles I had left I would just keep moving forward in whatever way I felt like, even if it meant walking for the next couple of hours. From that point on, I was hoping David would catch me so that we could finish together. I had a tough race and I knew he did as well with losing his wife so early on the course and trying to gain back ground on me.

Somewhere in the last 7 miles my big toe on my left foot began to hurt excruciatingly bad. I don't recall doing anything specific to it, but it hurt so bad towards the end that I was almost certain I had somehow broken it. It hurt to push off, and even though there were sections I would have liked to run, I opted out of most of them because of the pain. Coming into the last aid station with just 3 miles to go, I quickly chomped down some food, and started back out, keeping in mind that most of what I had left was downhill. Last year I flew from the last aid station like I was doing a normal 3-mile loop in Columbus, this year it was more like a slow saunter. I had plenty of time, and no worries. Every time I heard someone approaching from behind, I checked to see if it was David, if he was going to catch up to me, it would have to be now. I never saw David, but every runner that passed tried to encourage me to start running again, but other than short 100-yard stretches of jogging, I couldn't muster anything more than what I was doing. I did however see one familiar face in the last 3-miles, whom David and I paced off of almost the entire first half of Holiday Lake back in 2009.

Once I saw the saw the gate and the power lines overhead I knew I wasn't far from the fishery road that heads to finish line. I was in too much pain still to even run from that point, so I would wait till the last stretch when I could see the time clock. As people passed me (running on the road and driving past) they offered encouragement to run that I chose to ignore. Then came the glory stretch, and I began to painfully run with whatever gas I had left in the tank, as I approached I saw my brother's car. He and my younger brother spent the day trying to find the checkpoints before I got to them in a futile effort, they eventually gave up and just went to the finish line to wait 3-hours in the cold for me to finish. As I crossed the finish line in a humbling time of 11:34:25 I was greeted by Clark Zealand and David Horton with congratulations. In last years pictures of my finish, it looks like I'm ignoring Horton as I cross under the banner. Despite intentionally shaking both of their hands, there is yet another picture where it looks like I forgot to acknowledge them.

After picking up my finishers t-shirt (which were a huge improvement upon last year's puke green colored shirts) I hung out with my crew, my brothers, and congratulated my fellow runners. I was hoping that David wasn't still 30 minutes behind me, because that would mean he wouldn't get an official finish, so I waited anxiously for him to appear on the road. I wasn't quite as anxious as Betsy, but certainly was hoping we would see him soon. Minutes dragged by until the clock was at 11:55:00... he was cutting this one way too close. As soon as started to form my "That's too bad buddy" speech, we saw him chugging along down the road. Betsy ran down to him and they finished together, though not quite the way they planned, holding hands as David crossed at 11:57:01, with only one official finisher to follow him.

I may not have been as fast this year as I had hoped, and there were a lot of circumstances that I wish could have been different, but this was a great race, and I was glad to be among the 215 that made it to Montebello. Despite in-race declarations of "I hate running", and "Why the hell do I do these?" I will almost assuredly be back next year with high hopes and lofty goals. It's an addiction that I am proud of, and I hope to be like Tom Green (the guy who finished after David) and be celebrating 25 finishes one day.

On a side note... anyone who can get the two pop culture references in the opening paragraph without using the internet gets a special prize from me.

Race Report: Nationwide Better Health Marathon 2010

2010-10-20T19:49:00.000-04:00

Oh how sweet is small success! Finally a race in 2010 that I am not utterly ashamed of, providing a nice boost of confidence going into the fast approaching Masochist.

This was, to many people's surprise, my first attempt at the Columbus Marathon. I was supposed to run the half last year, but woke up that morning feeling like I had a stack of weights on my chest and face. My untimely illness provided the straw that broke the camels back, since there were lots of other reasons I didn't particularly want to run that day. With that no-show, I was going into this one with very little prior knowledge of the course, even though I have been a Columbus resident for nearly four years.

I never know what to expect of myself when it comes to racing... I seem to have a natural ability that defies proper training. Despite my surprising successes in running, I have been let down by overconfidence on multiple occasions this year. I had put in lots of low mileage runs over the past two months, getting as fast as I have ever been for distances under 10 miles, but I also forewent most of my scheduled long runs. The longest training run I went on was a disastrous 17-miler, where my stomach revolted against my efforts, producing a lackluster finishing time, but assuring me that my legs could pull off some miracles if I needed them to.

Lots of my friends and cohorts were set to participate in this race, so I had been back and forth between considering making it strictly a fun training run with a slower group of buddies and attempting a PR. My good friends Alex and Elise were in town for the event, and Elise was running this as her inaugural marathon. I did much of my last minute race preparations with her and Alex, which was a pleasant experience. We went on a nice 8:00/mi paced 3-miler the day before and I think it helped us both loosen up a bit for the big day ahead. I for once ate and hydrated properly in the days leading up to Sunday and even though I only got 5 hours of sleep on Saturday night, I don't remember ever feeling so rested before a race. Alex drove Elise and I to the start that was all too typical of a marathon starting line. Crowds of people, chilly air, and a slight feeling of nervousness coupled with euphoria.

When the gun start was signaled, Elise and I were near the 4:00 pace group, which would have been my target finish for the strictly training run mentality. When we started running, I felt loose and comfortable, so when Elise turned her iPod on I felt compelled to pick up my pace to find some conversation elsewhere. I didn't want to go out of the gate too fast to catch up to the faster pace groups, so I tried to hold onto the idea that if I just ran my own race I would eventually catch up to the 3:40 guys. After 5 miles I had reached them and kept stride for a mile or two till I got it in my head that this was my chance to run a really great marathon and I felt good enough to do it. Picking up the pace again, I decided to catch the 3:30 group. It took less than an hour, so at the 10 mile mark I was running on an 8:00/mi pace with the group projected to finish 12 minutes ahead of my previous PR. Shortly after I joined them, a recent acquaintance from over the Summer, Tad Inboden, came along side me. Tad was also running his first marathon. We were both in one of our good friend's weddings back in August and the man was simply hilarious and a great guy all around. The conversation and light heartedness of our marathon encounter made for a really great on-course experience. I think both of us resigned to the fact that we could help one another if we stayed together for at least a bit, so we made it a point to keep pace off of each other. I deck myself out for every race as if it were an ultra, so I had two bottles of water, a ton of gels, and a variety pack of magic pills (ibuprofen, endurolytes, antacids, etc.), which I was more than willing to share with Tad. The aid stations for marathons are something I am not particularly fond of, they usually are limited to water and Gatorade, with one gel station somewhere about 3/4 through the course, and always cause a pace slowing traffic jam between people who don't want anything and those trying to make a mad dash for the paper cups that once used become a traction hazard. With two 20 oz. water bottles and all the other junk I had on me, Tad and I only used the stations to supplement our needs. After passing through Bexley and German Village, we began a began a nice jaunt up High St through downtown, the Short North, and into the Ohio State campus. I carried my phone on me during the race, mostly to make post race meet-ups more coordinated, but it proved useful in alerting my brother Tyler and my roommate Johnny that we would be passing by our apartments just a few miles after the halfway point. Johnny hooked me up with some electrolyte tablets that I was running low on, which was awesome. On campus, and really throughout the whole course I probably saw a dozen people I knew along the street, which was great... one of the many benefits of running a race where you live.

As Tad and I went through campus we started jetting ahead of the 3:30 pacers about 50 yards or so. The plan in my head was to stick close to them until about mile 20, and then if I felt good enough I would try to burn the last 10K. As we went by the Oval where they were setting up for the Barack Obama visit later in the day, I realized that mile 18 was fast approaching, where my personal "wall" usually awaits... alive and well in all of it's infamy. Approaching mile 18 I started to break down a bit, I knew it was my mental anticipation of mile 18, but I couldn't help it. Tad and I weren't saying much at this point, so I'm not sure what was going on his head. The only thing I told him out loud was, "My mind is in a dark and gloomy place right now man." As we passed mile 18, a port-a-john stop was to our right hand side, just before we got into the Upper Arlington portion of the course. I didn't need to stop, but I figured dropping some water weight and breaking my stride for 30-seconds might be a nice pick me up for the home stretch. I was wrong. I started back out, seeing the balloons with 3:30 written in black sharpie about 200 yd ahead of me, trying to pace myself to catch back up to Tad. I was gaining ground slowly as I rolled into Grandview where I saw Alex waiting for his wife to pass by. I gave him an on the go update on my struggle with mile 18, and kept going. Passing a checkpoint with a time clock, I saw that I was still on my way to a PR, with less than 50 min of running left if I could hold out. I couldn't. Not far from there, around mile 22, my left calf knotted up, bringing me to an awkward unnatural stride. Then came my left quad, then the right leg joined forces in the ultimate betrayal. In long distance races, it's all about forward progress. If you are having issues, stopping isn't likely to resolve anything, so you just need to maintain forward progress. Slowing down or even walking are much better ideas than stopping altogether. The remainder of Grandview I spent using the run/walk method, and popping any endurolytes I had left, trying to stretch as I went, hoping I would get loose enough to make a last full out effort. I was coming up Buttles Avenue alongside Goodale Park when I knew all I had left was a mile or so till the finish in the Arena District. As we turned onto Park Street, I resolved to run the last stretch despite cramping and pain. At this point my struggles had pushed me back behind the 3:40 group, with all the turns I wasn't sure where I was between the 3:40 and 3:50 groups, because I couldn't see either.

Every marathon I have run so far has ended in what is on it's way to becoming a tradition... shirtless and in a dead sprint. I took my bright yellow Brooks singlet off and ran Park Street in a pretty good amount of pain until I saw the 26 mile marker, anything I had left in my legs at this point was going to my hard finish. I picked up my pace to one as fast as any I could conjure up, and blazed a trail past about 20 runners to a solid finish. When I looked at the clock and saw 3:43:08 I was disappointed and upset. During the race I had gotten it into my head that I would PR, and up until mile 22 I was confident that I wouldn't just get a PR, but that I would also run my first sub-3:30 marathon. It didn't occur to me until after the race, that the time I saw was the gun start time, and that I hadn't crossed the start line until 2 minutes after the gun. So my official time was actually 3:40:58, good for a PR but not as dramatic of an improvement as I was on pace for.

After I crossed the finish line, I went through the standard routine of getting bagels, water, and chicken broth from the volunteers. Then of course I received the standard marathon bling and had my picture taken that they will try to sell me for some absurdly high price in a few weeks. The finish line was crowded and crazy with spectators and runners, and I knew a lot of my friends were still on the course, so I went to the Susan G. Komen tent instead of trying to find anyone just yet. I had some light conversation with some of the people there, inquired about how some of my teammates had done, and picked up my goody bag until Alex tracked me down. Elise wasn't as far behind me as I expected, running a really strong sub-4 hour marathon, just minutes from Boston Qualifying. After she finished, we met up with my brother again, ran into a few friends... including Tad who had finished with a jealousy inspiring time of 3:28:49.

By in large this was my favorite marathon of my still young running career, the course was beautifully laid out and familiar, there was no significant stretch that didn't have hundreds of people cheering all of us on, and running with a friend without sacrificing any part of my performance was a really awesome experience. I raised around $500 for breast cancer research in my effort, set a new PR, and gave myself a much needed surge of mettle heading into my next ultra marathon, which is now just weeks away.

I love running and I'm proud to be a resident of this city that has so many great friends.

Coming to a Close

2010-10-04T05:14:00.000-04:00

My year of poor yet meaningful running is coming to a close, and I would love to leave on a high note. I vowed at the start of 2010 that I would make my running all about others instead of myself, making my sport, that is largely about the individual, into something about community.

I feel like I partially achieved my goal, particularly with the incredibly successful fundraising effort that was The Memorial 100. Raising over $10K for the Wounded Warrior Project back in May was by far the highlight of my running career for countless reasons. It was therapeutic, meaningful, and incredibly rewarding. My other two races, the Pittsburgh Marathon and the Laurel Ultra, didn't achieve much more than my personal frustration, but were by in large learning experiences. In my race report for the Laurel Ultra, I revealed my embarrassing practices of over-confidence and mediocre training. The last months of Summer didn't produce anything contrary to that, but the month of September began to show promise as I set a new tone for how I approach racing. The Columbus Marathon will be the first race that I will be coming into with borderline adequate training, and I am really excited to see what I can do as a result. Honestly I don't know if it will pay off... you never can tell. Every race is different, and there is no way to predict what will happen when you're in the moment of truth. Poor conditions, injury, illness, who knows what can happen? I do know that I have a damn good chance of running a personal best marathon time, but I'm not concerned really, and for a good reason.

When I went to the kick-off party for the Columbus Marathon a few months ago, I made a decision to run it for the Susan G. Komen team, in honor of my Mother, trading my fluorescent yellow Brooks singlet for a hot pink one. Fundraising has been a frustrating venture (as it always seems to be, no matter what the cause) but I've raised a couple hundred bucks in the fight against breast cancer, and I'm pretty stoked to show outward support for my Mom, who is suffering from Stage 4 cancer. If I crawl across the finish line with a 5-hour finish, I know that my Mom's going to be proud of me, and a tattooed dude wearing a pink singlet is going to know that he made someone aware of a great cause. That will make whatever happens on October 17th worth it.

Less than a month after Columbus, I will be heading back to Virginia to dance with the Masochist again. I spread myself thin with promoting great causes this year, so I honestly didn't have it in me to try and do double duty to raise money for anything. I instead will be running it on a personal level, being thankful for being able to do something I love, at the cost and support of many people. From my parents that adopted me and raised me as their own son, to the Marines that I served with, to the friends and co-workers that have been there for me, I will be running it in personal gratitude to everyone who has made me who I am.

This has been an interesting year in my life. So many things have happened that I never expected, and I have had the honor to be a part of many wonderful things, so here's to ending the year (at least the running part) with good form and a strong finish.

My Review of Mens Brooks Equilibrium CoRe Fitted Shorts

2010-09-05T14:54:00.001-04:00

Originally submitted at Road Runner Sports

Men's Brooks® Equilibrium CoRe Short :: Supportive moisture-transfer compression short with soft waistband provides core stability, fights chafing, and fends off fatigue. This web exclusive item ships separately via Standard Ground Shipping to physical street addresses within the contine...

Great Product

By Joseph Shearer from Columbus, OH on 9/5/2010

Fit: Feels true to size

Pros: Dries Quickly, Breathable, Lightweight, Comfortable, Allows Free Movement

Best Uses: Running, Warm Weather, Competition

Describe Yourself: Competitive Athlete

Was this a gift?: No

Great product that I use all the time in not only training but racing as well. The fabric dries quickly and wicks sweat away fast. The reason I purchased this product is how effectively it reduces problems with chaffing. I would recommend them to anyone in need of a good and high performing base layer.

Using the product at the Laurel Ultra 2010

Tags: Using Product

(legalese)

Race Report: Laurel Highlands Ultra 2010

2010-07-02T00:30:00.001-04:00

Oh, the deep wound that reopens with each failure. Is 2010 cursed? Should I cancel my remaining races for the year in anticipation that I will not perform to my own personal standards?

The Laurel Ultra is the race that kindled my desire to run ultras, to be able to run a distance in a single day that most people would consider an intense multi-day backpacking trip.

It all began Easter weekend of 2004, when I was a senior in high school. I loved hiking, camping, and all things outdoors, just as many of my close friends did. My friend Alec Rice and I decided to bring our high school days to an end with a grand adventure. We knew of the Laurel Highlands Hiking Trail, because it was a local destination and though we had no personal experience with it, knew many people who did. A 70.5 mile route from Ohiopyle to Seward, that promised beautiful scenery, grand vistas, and more... all accessed by a challenging single-track course.

Both of us were able bodied athletes. We played soccer all through our school years, were in the beginning of our final track and field season, and had even gone on multi-day hikes together in the past. We only had three days to do the distance, so we planned an aggressive schedule, putting most of our mileage up front when we were fresh and then doing two shorter days to bring us to the end. I called a month in advance to let the park service know which shelters we would be staying in for the two nights we would be sleeping on the trail.

When I explained our agenda to the man I was speaking with he chuckled and said, "Have you ever hiked this trail before?" I told him we hadn't and then through an offensive amount of laughter he suggested that we take at least four days. I got cocky and assured him that he was underestimating our ability.

When Alec's mom dropped us off in Ohiopyle, the weather was uncharacteristically perfect for that time of April, 65 degrees, sunny, and a slight breeze. Great conditions for our first day.

We had read the trail guide and seen the elevation profile beforehand and knew we would be gaining most of our elevation in the first ten miles. We would soon find out that things sometimes look better on paper than they do in reality. This climb was borderline obscene. Where the hell were we? Was this actually Pennsylvania or did Alec's mom accidentally drop us off in the Northern Cascades? The first 10 miles dominated us and took nearly twice as long as we had projected. After debating between one another we decided the next shelter we came across would be the ending point of our first day. We could split what we fell short of in the next two.

After setting up camp and getting something to eat, we went to bed early, hoping to start day two just after the sun broke the horizon.

When we woke up the next morning we were greeted with a completely unanticipated, and certainly unwanted landscape. While we were bunkered down in our sleeping bags, mother nature decided to give us the middle finger. A far cry from the day before, it was now 30 degrees, with 4 inches (and counting) of snow on the ground. Karma is a bitch, because I was eating my arrogance in regards to the difficulty of this hike. Still slower than planned, we went on a do or die death march of 28 miles, hiking well into the night before finally putting us within striking distance of the end. We were still over 20 miles away from my car, but we were going to get this thing done in three days... come hell, high water, snow, or some biblical scale mountain climb. How could we abandon our goal now?

Day three was overcast, with sporadic rain showers, and a just cold enough to be miserable temperature somewhere around 50. We were moving as fast as we could, completely miserable, and operating within bodies that were crying for us to stop. Both of us were in such a foul mood that we barely spoke, we just kept moving, forsaking our surroundings for the view of the rocky trail in front of us. My knees were swollen and every muscle in my leg felt like it was on fire, not to mention the pack that seemed like a 1,000 lbs on my shoulders.

Our determination had brought us success, but with a price, as both of us would be sitting out of track practice for a week. We had made it to my car with just an hour of light to spare on the third day, which was Easter Sunday. Too late for most home cooked meals, but at this point, left overs would be just fine.

Not long after our epic journey, I began to think back on it with pride, the park service guy may have known what he was talking about, but we still did it. I started to wonder then if there was a record of someone doing it faster. Of course I then Googled it, after all, how else does one acquire knowledge?

What I quickly found, had me wide-eyed and speechless. This had to be a different trail, with a similar name, or something like that. I was reading about something that was humanly impossible. Was this even a real website?

Some jerk supposedly RAN this thing that took us three days to hike... not only ran it, but did the whole thing in less than 11 hours. It wasn't just some random nut either, because there was dozens of other people listed who did it too, all under 24 hours. Who the hell would even consider trying that? I didn't know it was even possible to run that far, let alone that there would be organized events and races for such a distance. Weren't marathons the longest races around? What the hell was an ultra? Was this an isolated instance of insanity or did other people do this crap too?

I became obsessed, and found out that there were events all across the country, some longer than this one, on apparently even tougher trails. I learned about people setting speed records for the grail trails, about the Grand Slam, and the supposed toughest foot race in the world... The Badwater Ultramarathon, a 135 miles road race from Death Valley to the base of Mt. Whitney.

I ran "distance" for my track team, and thought that the 3200 was supposed to considered long distance, and I couldn't have been more wrong.

I was never particularly fast on the track. I was good for my team, but couldn't compete past county meets... but I knew I had drive, and I loved the idea of pushing my limits. I knew I would run an ultra someday, because I couldn't know about such a thing and not attempt it.

The fire had been lit, but wouldn't engulf anything until 2009 when I ran Holiday Lake, my first race outside of high school, a trail 50K that I would follow up with the Masochist 50 Miler later that year. The Laurel Ultra has been on my mind for the last 7 years, and I have seen it as my personal right of passage into ultra running.

It wasn't until this year that I was able to attempt my goal, but in all honesty last year made me a bit too cocky.

I can run, that's for sure, but I think because of my better than they should have been performances of last year, I have gravely overestimated how easily I can race.

I undertrained for Holiday Lake, then I straight up didn't train for either the Pittsburgh Marathon or the Masochist and put up solid newbie times for all three. This year that false confidence is costing me. Pittsburgh I struggled, the format change for Memorial Day saved my ass, and then the ultimate wake up call happened when I dropped out of the Laurel Ultra on Saturday.

I haven't had a 50-mile training week since January, in fact, I haven't had one over 30 miles. Did I really drive the whole way to Pennsylvania to run 77 miles (the course was altered and 7 miles added for a bridge outage) expecting to perform well? Did I really expect to even finish?

I told my brother beforehand that I was worried, but then he reminded me that I didn't run for the entire month leading up to the Masochist last fall, and that I was even smoking during that time, and I still finished in a respectable time.

Well my self proclaimed right of passage isn't anything like the Masochist, it's a ball buster of epic proportions compared to the Masochist.

I followed my routine of opting for poor and short sleep, going to bed at 12:30 AM in the back of Ned's SUV at the start line for a 5:30 race... next to active railroad tracks. It was better than the sleep I got before the Masochist, but certainly not ideal. I was surprisingly awake and motivated at the start line, talking with some fellow Brooks athletes and faces I recognized from previous races. I had every intention of finishing this thing, and believed I could even do it 6 hours under the time limit of 24 hours.

Damn that first 10 miles. This time there was really no excuse, I hadn't simply looked at maps, I knew it from experience and STILL underestimated it's ability to break me off. I was extremely aggressive to start out, with only a handful of solo runners ahead of me. The only people legitimately faster were relay guys who weren't going to be running the entire day. My downhill prowess was legit, but the climbs were killing me. Unfortunately, gaining 1400 ft of elevation in a 3 mile climb negated my success on the downhills. Right before the first aid station at mile 11, I started to get sharp stomach pains. I knew I might have to drop rounds down range during the race, but I had hoped it would be later, no such luck. I was still in good standing at the first station despite the pit stop, but my stomach was still acting up. I had increasing nausea, and even the thought of gel disgusted me. The second section was cake compared to the first as far as elevation gains and losses, but I found myself walking portions that I should definitely have been running. The stomach pains got worse each time I planted my foot. At mile 15, I was forced to make a second pit stop... way to early for this crap to be happening, quite literally. That didn't offer much relief either. A sip of NUUN then resulted in uncontrollable vomiting. I literally had no water or food in my stomach what so ever. This was bad, really bad. I knew if this kept up, dehydration was certain, and there was no way I could keep going. My mind began to doubt. In an ultra, it's rarely your body failing you that makes you quit, it's the battle in your head. I was in trouble and I knew it. Either way, I had to get to the next aid station.

As runners caught up to me and passed, I was reintroduced to the wonderful camaraderie that exists between ultra runners... something you won't necessarily find in shorter races. An older gentleman stopped and walked with me, asked if I needed some antacid tablets, which I graciously accepted. He stayed with me as long as he felt he could and then encouraged me, "It's still early, you have the whole day to catch up. You just make it to that next stop, and when you do find the prettiest girl that's there... that's my daughter. She has more antacid tablets, and I'm going to tell her to look for you when you come in, have a good race, hopefully I'll see you again." After he left, I waited for a few minutes and tried to drink again because I noticed the salt was starting to dry on my face and I wasn't sweating as much anymore... a sure sign of dehydration. Instantaneous vomiting. Damn it. More generous runners offered a thousand different magic pills as they passed and noticed that I was struggling, but I declined, at that point knowing my race was all but over until I could keep some water down.

The last climb up to the second aid station was the hardest part of the second leg, a confidence breaking incline. I was literally grabbing trees to pull myself up to each rocky platform. When I reached the top, I stumbled into the nearest place to sit down as Ned came to my side to get me refills and a situation report. I was well ahead of the cutoff time, despite completing the section at a laughably slow pace. I had time to decide. When I was finally able to drink water, it rolled around unnaturally in my stomach, as it was the only thing occupying my midsection. Every time I looked at the table of food, I felt queasy and unsettled. After about 45 minutes, I knew I had to make a choice. I was already in poor condition, and knew that even though the hardest climbs were behind me, the ones ahead were nothing to scoff at either. It was 9:30 in the morning, and I had at the very least, 15 more hours of running ahead of me... and that was if I caught up and held my ground.

I had already given up mentally once. I then made the unthinkable choice of disqualifying myself. Could I have made it? Who knows? I physically wasn't as prepared as I should have been, but that's not what did me in. My mindset was completely off, and this wasn't going to be the day I drank from my personal grail.

I am a competitor, and I largely regret my decision to quit. However that same regret is exactly what I am going to use going forward. No more slacking off and putting it up to chance and natural ability. I have nothing until the fall... all summer to train, to build my endurance and speed. Anything from this point, through 2011, will be an improvement or I will consider it a failure. I have at least two races left for the year, the Columbus Marathon and the MMTR... if I don't PR at both, then I need to find a passion I am going to take more seriously.

As far as the Laurel Ultra is concerned, I am promising something lofty... I will win it before the decade is out. I hate waiting, so I guess that means I have 11 months until its do or die time.

Indefinitely Indebted

2010-06-10T03:46:00.001-04:00

Literally hundreds of people need to be thanked for this past Memorial Day weekend, so many people worked so hard to put the Memorial 100 together that I simply can't name them all... but here is what I hope is a solid attempt.

The reason we ran, the reason we have freedom...

We can never repay the thousands of servicemen and women who have given their lives for the sake of freedom. We ran in memory of 48 Marines and Corpsman, who gave up their lives in the Al-Anbar province of Iraq in 2005:

SSgt Joseph Goodrich, one of the greatest men and Marines that I've ever met. I will never forget the day he lost his life, when just an hour before he went on patrol he was encouraging me to remember why we we do what we do as Marines, at a time when I was losing sight of it.

LCpl Ryan Kovacicek, who could always bring my thoughts back to Indiana when I needed someone who knew the same places I did, to help me not forget where I was from.

Cpl Joseph Tremblay, who volunteered so that he could fight alongside his brothers, knowing that it might cost him his life, but being selfless enough to run the risk. He had higher ideals than his own well being, and is an inspiration to the rest of us to live it out.

Cpl Bryan Richardson, always willing to help out wherever and whenever he was needed, even if it meant showing a boot PFC how to operate a field radio 8,000 times before he got the hang of it. The definition of patience, cool and collected no matter what.

We lost men who we considered our brothers out of mutual experience, to some it was a much deeper loss.

Thank you, thank you, thank you Amy Goodrich-Torbert! I don't know how you do it. Even before we deployed, you were the ultimate sister to all of us, and you have never abandoned that role. I can't imagine what losing Joe was like for you, but I have no doubt whatsoever in my mind that he would be proud of the woman you continue to be. The Memorial 100 wouldn't have been possible without you. The time, the money, and the effort you put in are unmatched. I sincerely hope that it brought you comfort to know how much he meant to us, and that not only he was honored, but you as well.

Larry Tremblay, when I met you the night before the run, it gave me all the motivation I needed. My parents lost two sons, so I have a glimpse of the pain that I know you are all too familiar with. To be as strong as you are to stand with us in continuing to honor your son's memory is no small task, and it meant the world for you to be there with us. Rest assured that we will never forget your son.

Ariel Hochman, I have never met you, and I might not get to. When I received your email, and knew that you were behind us for this thing, it was invaluable. You're family to all of us, so don't forget that we mourn Ryan with you.

For my brother who thought this crazy idea up...

Nathan Huffman, this all started because of your idea, and then you proceeded to pull it off despite a thousand obstacles in the way. I'm proud to have served with you, and to have run this thing along side you. I don't think anyone felt as much pressure as you to make this thing a success, and it truly was. Personally, this whole thing from beginning to end, has helped me deal with all the issues I have battled since Iraq, and I am grateful to you for motivating me to do it. Some people think the whole "brother" thing in the military is bullshit, but I can't think of any other word I would use for you.

For the guys that I trusted with my life in Iraq, and then for this run...

Doc Sukitch and Doc Iem, I don't give a damn if either of you are an MD, if I ever get shot or blown up, I'm calling you guys before I go to the hospital. In my book, Corpsman are Marines that just have shittier M16's and more crap to carry. I wouldn't have wanted anyone else (outside of maybe Doc Moe and the rest of the gang) driving behind us. Brothers indeed.

To the only Marine I'm okay with being a better runner than me...

Ferkett, you long legged bastard, you have always been there for me when I needed you, even when I was way off my rocker when we got home. It was no surprise that you were on board from the start, and no matter how long I go without seeing you, my respect for you will always be intact. You're one of the best Marines I know, and I'll always be up for running along side you, just so long as I don't slow you down.

To the best support crew we could have asked for...

James Huffman, your support of your son and of our effort in this event, being there every step of the way was fantastic.

Ron McFarland, having you let us use your ridiculously nice RV, being awake for a ridiculous amount of time, and driving the slowest 100 miles of your life made the whole thing a lot less painless than it could have been otherwise.

Sarai Hasegawa, for being supportive of me through the planning and preparation and then despite the certainty of awkwardness accompanied me on the journey. We won't ever forget the event, but having your photo record of the whole thing will certainly help.

Eileen Sukitch, riding shotgun for 24 hours and making sure your husband didn't fall asleep or have a flashback and think he was driving a humvee in Iraq was probably more valuable than we are aware of.

Ileana Adams, who drove all over the Virginia countryside with your kids in support of your husband and us, all the while accruing bizarre gifts for your daughter from Marines hitting up the yard sales along Rt 1.

Christy Huffman, your husband said that during labor you told him he had to run this thing, that's bad ass.

To our adopted family of runners, who ran with us and supported us the whole way...

Jeremy Soles, you're a freaking beast, a brother by your birth on Parris Island, and motivating as hell... who the hell else would use the S&M man cadences for the last 3 miles of a 100 mile relay, right after running with a gas mask on?

Brittany Davis, single handedly doubling interest from street side spectators, and matching your man in bad assness by throwing up so you could run more legs of the relay.

Courtney Ryan, for picking the hottest time of the day to run, after popping out a baby only months before. You beasted those climbs, forgive me for thinking you might fall out.

Teagan Ryan, our youngest participant, who will look at pictures later and tell people that she ran her first ultramarathon as an infant. Pretty sure she's also the cutest baby I have ever seen (no offense Huff).

Caroline Allen, who could have probably ran her sections faster than everyone except Ferkett, and put up with 5 miles alongside Chongo.

Sarah Matthew, busting your man's balls as if you were one of us and running like a champ.

Anthony and Heather Crokus, our most random acquaintance in the group... finding my blog through a post I put on the Pittsburgh Marathon page, and being so interested in what we were doing that they drove through the night to meet us and then ran despite a lack of sleep and the presence of injury, making sure we had at least 3 branches of service represented. Who says you can't make great friends on the internet?

Jimmy Torbert, the man with big shoes to fill... I don't think anyone could have picked a better guy to be with Amy. A non-runner, running out of love for his wife and in honor of her late husband. Selfless, completely selfless. Nothing short of amazing, you're a great guy.

Mike Kiniry, serving double duty in running and helping out with the police escort, I don't think anyone got as little sleep as you.

To the some the best damn Marines in the USMC who fought with me in Iraq and ran with me during the Memorial 100...

Segrist, my sawgunner, an enabler, a Michael Jackson enthusiast, and sometimes a really big asshole. I'd want no other Marine in a firefight over you, and to have you be a part of this was awesome.

Ryan, running while pushing a baby and being pregnant is no small feat, and you nailed it.

Thomas, when I was running high school track they had a motto that the gayer they were the faster they would run... clearly that wasn't accurate, or else you would have been pulling 6 minute miles.

Chongo, who would have ever thought you would be running behind a police cruiser instead of in front of it? The border must be pretty hilly, because you clearly had prior experience.

Adams, I don't remember you ever being able to run a PFT in under an hour, let alone 5 miles, well done sir.

Boyko, with all that down time in Al-Asad, I expected a little faster effort from you, you fundraising Nazi.

Beck, I can't think of anything to bust your balls about. I don't know how that's even possible, must have been all that practice from 10 years of staying under the radar as a LCpl. So I guess, good job?

Oguss, every time I closed my eyes when I was near you I thought I was standing next to Paris Hilton with a retarded Jersey accent. That run was pretty hot huh?

Finnerty, my knee brace is missing a rubber tube from inside, I know it looks like a sex toy, but seriously?

Darling, I could make a weight joke... but that would be way to easy and besides, I highly suspect you of being the one who whose swamp ass made the RV feel like we were trapped inside a septic tank.

To our amazing safety crew and escort, we wouldn't have been able to do anything without your participation. I don't know how many Police Departments and EMS Squads were involved or how many individuals gave up their off days, just to help us out.

Captain Kiniry and the Richmond Police Department, you had everything to do with us establish a solid route, getting all the jurisdictions on board, and keeping us safe for the duration of the event. Your sacrificial participation had everything to do with us pulling it all off, and your presence and passion for what we were doing was motivating.

To the wonderful, generous people that helped us nearly double our fundraising goal. It was $5,000 and we made it to $9,521. I don't know all of you, and some I can't see because you donated on behalf of others, but you all came together to make a huge difference.

Roger Bock, your giving breathed new life into this thing and made us believe we could raise the money when you secured are largest single donation ($1,000) from the Marine Corps Family Support Community, and then gave $100 of your own money in support of us.

Sandy Kimmel, always there for me since I was 15 years old, and blowing my mind with your generosity once again with your donation of $500.

Imbrogno, for helping out with a generous donation in getting our operational expenses taken care of.

To our pre-run hosts...

Grandpa Eddies Alabama Ribs and Barbeque, your food was amazing, even if there was nothing that had any carbs. Letting us take over your restaurant was a ballsy move, but it helped us raise even more support and awareness for what we were doing. Fan-freaking-tastic.

For our many sponsors and workers who helped out with providing gear and food, at a discounted cost or sometimes completely free...

Steve DeKoker from the Brooks ID Program, you made me proud to be a part of the Brooks family, and I was blown away that you were so quick to help out by providing 30 tech shirts for the run. Everyone loved them, and we are greatly appreciative of your willingness to help out. Not only that, but to spotlight me on the Brooks webpage and draw interest from the ID running community was amazing and certainly contributed to our success.

NUUN, for giving us discounted electrolyte tablets that certainly helped keep us hydrated and cramp free.

Fleet Feet Pittsburgh, for your extremely generous contribution in providing shoes, gear, and an assortment of performance foods at no charge.

Sign-a-Rama, for providing magnetic Wounded Warrior Project decals for all the support vehicles at no charge.

Sgt. Grit, for providing the US and Marine Corps flags that we carried from Richmond to DC.

Lindsay Kronmiller, for designing the wonderful shirts and getting them all printed in time for the run. You made us look legit, instead of a bunch of morons running down the street.

YWCA Columbus, never have I worked at a place that was so supportive of me in pursuits outside of work, getting all of our wonderful staff behind me, gathering donations, letting me post fliers, enabling me to have the time off to run, and then feature our efforts in a spotlight section of the company newsletter. Add this to the list of reasons why I love my job.

For the only politician who showed any real interest in what were doing...

Congressman Eric Cantor (R-Virginia), your willingness to meet with Huffman, advocate for us among your peers, and getting the ball rolling with our park permits made a huge difference and prevented this whole thing from being derailed.

To the only reporter willing to run our story (that I am aware of) before the event...

Gina Cavallaro of the Marine Corps Times, you have a passion akin to ours through your experiences as an embedded reporter, and that passion certainly showed in the wonderful article you wrote on us.

Thanks also goes to LtCol Chris Douglas for setting us up with Gina, and providing encouragement whenever we needed it.

To all of my wonderful friends and supporters who helped in a thousand different ways...

Dr. Scott Gosselin, who fixed my back last year to keep me running, and then offered his services free of charge as his contribution to this run, so that my back wouldn't prevent me from running. On top of that, he has become a good friend and avid supporter of my running endeavors.

Tori Kise, who sent out countless donation letters, helped me edit my fliers, and was supportive from the very beginning.

Matt Kirkendall, who spread the word, offered to help in a thousand different ways (even if I didn't utilize all of it) and was there from the start.

Brian Visnosky, for letting me bounce ideas off of you and giving me ones I would have never thought up on my own.

And to the rest...

The over 500 members of our Facebook group, my entire family that has been behind me the whole way, everyone that helped out even for the smallest detail, all the Marines of 3/25, my friends, our donors, and hundreds of other people that helped make this what it was... a HUGE success!

Thank You!!!

Semper Fi,

Joe Shearer

The Memorial 100

2010-06-07T22:47:00.000-04:00

Seven months of planning, training, and stress... all completely and undeniably worth it.

As many of you who read this know, back in November Nathan Huffman came to me with an idea to honor the 48 Marines and Navy Corpsman that we lost during our 2005 deployment to the Al-Anbar Province of Iraq. The idea was to run from the Virginia War Memorial in Richmond to the Marine Corps Memorial in Washington DC.

I knew the distance of just over 100 miles was possible, I had met many people who had done the distance... but it still seemed like a pretty huge task for two amateur runners to take on. We thankfully drew the immediate interest of Kyle Ferkett, another Marine that served with us and then Amy Goodrich-Torbert, the wife of SSgt Goodrich, whom we lost in Iraq.

Even though it was great to have them on board, I knew if we didn't have more people backing us up and couldn't find a banner to run under, to give us legitimacy, that we would never get this thing off the ground. Many of our Marines who had been injured in Iraq, had been helped out by the Wounded Warrior Project, an organization that I had only heard positive reports about. When we established contact with them, we had ourselves the banner, so next was the bodies. Thank God for the social networking revolution, because Facebook then became one our biggest allies.

We grew by the surprisingly tedious work of sending out emails, making phone calls, posting flyers, and writing blog posts. Slowly but surely we recruited dozens, then hundreds of people, all willing to provide support in various degrees. Not too long into our adventure we realized we had quite a few people that wanted to be in the thick of it, and help us get to DC by more than just monetary donation.

When it got to the point where we knew we had to go forward with it, no matter what, and we decided to include a relay to give other Marines and supporters a chance to participate in the event itself. In true Marine fashion, our brothers didn't leave the task to take on by ourselves.

The last months of winter, we trained our asses off, and I personally put up my largest mileage ever in training. All was well, except that our donations were trickling in at a depressingly slow rate. Months rolled out quickly and we began to meet challenges and tough questions. We weren't getting any press outlets on board, we realized we needed permits, we needed police involvement, legal advice, etc. All the while, each of us came into personal issues... Huffman's wife was due the same weekend we were supposed to run this thing, my PTSD issues were spinning me out of control and off the training trail, and it looked like we might not be able to pull it all off.

My turning point to hope, was around April 20th, when I received a text message from my friend Tori saying, "Holy cow! Someone just gave you $1000!" This was at a point when we hadn't even raised that much as entire team. Roger Bock and the Marine Corps Family Support Community here in Ohio, sparked me back into believing that we could actually make a difference with this event. Leave it to an old Jarhead to send some rounds down range.

Things looked up, but we still seemed as if we were on shaky ground. The first weekend of May I pulled my groin in Pittsburgh, running my worst marathon ever, making my involvement uncertain. Then Huffman had concerns about his unborn baby, we hadn't heard much from Pittsburgh Marines, and the park service was pissing around with our permit for Iwo Jima. We had so many things falling into place, but huge obstacles following them up like clock work.

Mid-may... only a few weeks from rolling out of Richmond, we weren't sure what was in store...

We were still painfully short of our $5000 fundraising goal, only one newspaper (The Marine Corps Times, thanks to LtCol Douglas and Gina Cavalaro) had picked us up, only one politician (VA Congressman Eric Cantor) had shown any definitive interest, and the park service was STILL giving Huffman the run around. We had the route, the runners, and the support crew in place... but we uncertain if we would have the cash, the attention, and the permission to go forward as planned.

Everyone involved at this point, was committed to seeing it through, hell or high water... and we came to the conclusion that no matter what happened, this was more about honoring the Marines and Corpsman we lost... and nothing could stop that, even if everything else went down in flames.

Once we came to that epiphany, a weight came off of our backs, and then something sort of miraculous happened.

Donations started POURING in... we hit our goal, and then the pace quickened even more, with money coming in almost everyday, and sometimes it seemed as if it was every hour. Our Facebook group exploded with new life. With pressure from Eric Cantor's office, that pesky park service lady caved in and gave us the needed permission for landing. Runners reaffirmed their commitment to doing this thing with us, and every nagging detail seemed to vanish into an annoying memory.

Days before the run, we changed format, this was about making a successful event to honor our brothers, so we didn't leave it on our shoulders to run the full 100... we would instead run a strict relay, preventing any chance of falling short of DC.

The night before the run for our kickoff party, we knew we had already succeeded in what we had set out to do. It was like a family reunion, the best memorial service you have ever attended, and just straight fun all rolled into one. I, at times, couldn't help but smile thinking this was exactly how God intended it to turn out.

The run itself was amazing. Smoother than we could have ever counted on, everyone had done their part and more. People I had never met, became a part of something I will never forget. New and old mixed together for one of the greatest things I have ever been a part of.

We always had at least two people running, holding the American and Marine Corps flags high in the air, over 20 people all relying on each other for the same purpose in honoring 48 of my brothers who laid down their lives for all of us.

When we rolled into Iwo Jima, all together, running in formation, calling cadence, I didn't think that I could be any more proud of the people I was with... until about 15 minutes later.

We presented the flags we had carried the entire 106 miles to Amy and Larry... knowing that this was more special to them than it ever could be to the rest of us. A wife and a father, without the two men they loved, backing us up from the very beginning and right up to the end, tears in their eyes, accepting all that we could give them, the banners that represent everything that their loved ones were willing to give up their lives for.

No Marine has ever died in vain, no matter what war or how unpopular it was. They died for us, and I could never see it so clearly as I did at 5:30 AM on the eve of Memorial Day in Washington DC.

RACE REPORT: Dick's Sporting Good's Pittsburgh Marathon 2010

2010-05-05T17:29:00.000-04:00

Oh such high hopes and grand visions I had for my first race of the year, but perhaps I was being an unqualified narcissist, spewing words of promise and self-promotion and not following through. Today, I feel like Alex Ovechkin, but am clinging to the chance that I'm not quite as much of a jackass.

I could blame various injury worries or unforeseen circumstances, but all in all, I could have done better, and that's on me.

This was my second ever marathon event, the first being the same race from last year, so there was a lot of reflection even going into it. In 2009 I had also been plagued with training woes at this time, but not in relation to any injuries, so I largely had overcome them in time for race day. My personal life was quite different and I had lots of support during the run from Maggie, Sarah, Dane and Ernie and the trip wasn't a solo journey in any regard. I ran with Ferkett until mile 20, I had a send off and a welcoming, and everything was as smooth as it could be.

This year I traveled alone, with makeshift plans, and very little excitement about the race. Even on the drive out to Pittsburgh, I fought off depressing memories of singing along to Elton John's greatest hits with four people with whom my relationships have nearly been incinerated since.

Yikes. How quickly things have changed in just a year.

When I finally arrived in Pittsburgh, I sat within view of the convention center (where I needed to pick up my race bag and check in) for literally an hour in traffic. I cursed my decision to not bring my bike, because I could have parked away from the mess, and rode in. Thank God for The Swell Season, because they kept me entertained while I waited.

The convention was nothing special, my only complaint was not being able to find any Brooks compression shorts at the vendors so I could wear my ID shorts without being worried about my junk falling out. Oh well, I managed... and I must say, the race shirts and goody bags this year were an improvement for sure.

I just realized my race report is a bit lengthy considering I haven't talked about the race itself yet, but I like writing, so deal with it.

What can I say about my host, birthday cake maker, shuttle driver and personal athletic trainer for the weekend other than that she was amazing? Erin's presence and help seriously made up for a lot of the things that didn't go so well this past weekend, and I am extremely grateful for her in that regard.

Race-eve... high-carb dinner, pounding of water, terrible sleep (what's new about that?).

Morning of, was actually really good. I was prepared, had everything set, enough GU and Nuun, ID uniform on. Body Glide on my inner thigh... except that I forgot to tape my nipples which I would later regret, and actually still do.

Start of the race was great, it was probably in the high 60's or low 70's... nice breeze coming, with an overcast sky. Last year it was pretty chilly to start out if I recall correctly, so this was a nice change. Erin had dropped me off a few blocks away so I warmed up with some intervals down to the start line, and I felt really confident that I could perform well.

I started out at a nice pace, despite the expected human traffic jam. I was rolling out at just under 8:00/mile probably a few steps ahead of the 3:30 pace team (which was my goal). At about mile 4 it began to rain, and at times could have been defined as pouring. This wasn't all that bad at first, but it was off and on for the rest of the way. It didn't slow me down, and helped keep my water consumption down, so no worries. The few negative things that it did were these: my wet singlet clinging to my body making it rub my left nipple into a bloody mess that I am currently looking at the remaining scab of and making my feet look like Jason Vorhees's face.

I stuck with my plan and pace until about mile 14. Then disaster struck. That pain in my balls I had been ignoring, for the last two weeks, was because of a tight groin, which I at this time pulled.

I had narrowed it down to either a hernia, a tweaked groin, or ball cancer before the race... so I suppose this confirms the least of the three concerns is the one with truth behind it. So despite the joy of knowing it's not something more serious, I was a bit pissed that it happened mid-race as I was doing pretty well. I instantly fell off pace and changed my stride to compensate the stabbing pain in my crotch. Changing my stride caused a couple more issues, and my improper form led to muscle cramps. Four miles later I decided if I had any chance of finishing under four hours (throws up in mouth) that I had to stop, stretch, and pop some pain killers.

I watched in disgust after slower and slower pace groups passed me. I saddled back up and tried to think of how easily I can normally run 8 miles. Not all the Aleve and BioFreeze in the world could save me now. Two miles later, six to go... I was told to stop running and the race was being shut down. A suspicious package on the course... was I in Iraq? Seriously? A bomb?

I stopped for a minute until I realized I didn't really care about a bomb, and I continued on (the race was rerouted anyways a few minutes later, so it didn't even matter that much).

Mile 23... a bar along the course was handing out cups of Yuengling to the runners. This was fucking awesome. I drank a delicious, cold, refreshing cup of beer during the marathon. This made for a really interesting smell combo after all was said and done.

End result... I finished in 4:08:16... a 9:29/mile pace compared to 3:42:24 last year at an 8:29/mile pace.

So I guess it's not the end of the world, I am disappointed, but I have a bigger fish to fry in 4 weeks! My goal now is to heal my groin up and make sure I can roll into DC.

Article for the Brooks Inspire Daily Blog

2010-04-26T00:47:00.000-04:00

Running has been a part of my life since my freshman year of high school when I used it to give me an edge on the soccer field, but I quickly grew to enjoy it as more than just a means to an end, and decided to pursue it competitively as a member of the high school track team. Running and a competitive spirit aren’t exactly unique to me, nor are they exceptionally inspiring, but high school isn’t where my journey stops.

After graduating, I made a decision to join the Marine Corps, not because I didn’t have other options in front of me, but because I felt I had the ability and the opportunity to serve my country at a time when it was growingly unpopular to do so. To be quite honest, it literally turned my world upside down like I had never imagined possible. Very few things from my life remained intact or untouched, and my experiences in the Marines… from boot camp to Iraq, and beyond… shook the foundations of my identity and my beliefs.

Running was one of those things that stayed with me in spite of everything else. It was like a time machine, taking me back home when I couldn’t be there in reality. It was no longer about being competitive; it became an intimate thing that kept me from forgetting where I came from. It might seem like I am exaggerating what running has meant to me, but it really does have that power.

Being in Iraq was the most mentally taxing time of my life, and it was the peak of every fear I have ever had. I was an infantry rifleman in the al-Anbar province of Iraq during 2005, and hope in anything nearly ran dry by the end of our tour. We had lost 48 Marines and sailors, many of them whom I had known well and been friends with. My love for running remained a source of comfort while overseas, but certainly the stress had taken its toll, even on that.

By the time we came home, I was a different person than the one who my family and friends had known before. I was a mess emotionally and mentally, not being able to wrap my mind around what I had seen and been through. My relationship and faith in God, which was so obvious in high school, was now marred with doubt and anger. Nothing was even remotely okay in my life.

My healthy relationships and activities couldn’t keep up with the trauma, and either took a secondary position in my life, or dissipated completely. I began smoking, drinking, and using drugs to cope with it all… sending me on a dark path that would take me years in the wrong direction.

I was (and still am to quite an extent) a textbook case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD. Therapy and an assortment of medications, have done very little in helping me recover, and I scrambled for years trying to find something that helps me put everything in a proper perspective, with limited success.

Near the end of 2007 I began to realize that I wasn’t using the abilities God had naturally instilled in me to cope with loss and to process my emotions. I had been avoiding my relationship with him, wasting my competitive spirit and athletic ability, in addition to other things that I had at my disposal all along.

I am not “cured” of PTSD by any means, and I am unsure that it will ever pass completely… but my relationship with God and using my athletic ability He gave me in running have everything to do with how far I have come. Healthy choices and goals in running have contributed to successfully fighting off addictions to alcohol and various drugs. I use running as my outlet, as my therapy, and as a means to process my thinking and feeling. In 2009 I began running competitively again, for the first time since high school track, but this year (2010) it’s not about me anymore, it’s about leveraging my ability to help others.

All of the running I do this year… I intend to do it with the intention of helping others. Whether it’s raising money for a cause I believe in, establishing friendships with other runners, or helping a new runner develop a healthy lifestyle. The culmination of this, and something I am really excited about, is a 100-mile endurance run, myself and several of the guys I was with in Iraq are organizing to raise money for the Wounded Warrior Project and to honor our 48 fallen brothers.

Flirting With Disaster

2010-03-19T17:53:00.000-04:00

My January training was epic. I'm not even certain where I got the motivation to run that much, but I trumped my all previous efforts. January in Columbus was bitter cold and largely miserable conditions, yet I still pulled off some of my fastest and longest mileage ever.

Ohhh such high hopes I had for the months following that initial kick. February was a disaster all in all. I ran about a quarter of what I did in January, gained 20 pounds, and set myself back when I had no business doing anything outside of working up to the 100 mile effort in late May.

In my mind I beat myself up and wonder why I didn't push myself to run more... but you know what, it wasn't really that bad, I still have my desire and my ability. I hate making excuses, but running isn't and never will be the most important thing in my life. God will always be more important, and my relationships with the people in my life will always come before it too. I blur the line because I think running can glorify God and help build relationships... I know this because I have seen it, but sometimes you do have to pick.

March has been a lot of endurance recovery and building the blocks back up. I'm frustratingly slow right now, but I have 6 weeks till Pittsburgh and almost 10 until the 100 miler. Thats at the very least, 600 miles of training to prepare me. My race season hasn't even started, and spring is right around the corner for a motivation boost...

The Memorial 100

2010-02-27T19:44:00.000-05:00

March 2010

To Whom It May Concern:

My name is Joe Shearer, a Marine who served in Iraq during 2005 with 3/25 Kilo Company, part of the battalion you may recognize by our grim distinction of taking more casualties than any Marine unit since the Vietnam War. For myself, and those whom I served with, we will never forget the impact that this war has had on our lives as individuals, but also what a chaotic time it has been for our country as a whole. This same country that we loved so much as to put our very lives in danger to preserve it.

Many people have conflicting opinions on this war, and it has increasingly become less and less popular among the American people. Despite what anyone believes about this war, there are those like myself who were willing to answer the call to defend our country as our leaders saw fit, and that in and of itself is an honorable thing. No one can argue the fact that war is a terrible and horrific occurrence, and the evidence of that truth has left scars on our entire nation.

This past fall, myself and several other Marines and Navy Corpsman, thought up an idea to help those that stood up on our nations behalf and who have come home with injuries and scars that will be with them forever, but also to remember those who gave the ultimate sacrifice for their country by laying down their lives.

We are putting on an event of quite ambitious proportions, to raise money and awareness on behalf of an organization called the Wounded Warrior Project (WWP). The WWP is a non-profit that has stood out in their dedication to servicemen and women coming home from Iraq and Afghanistan with injuries incurred during their service. They exist to “honor and empower wounded warriors” through providing various services and programs to those veterans, that they may overcome the limitations imposed on them by their injuries, and continue to live a fruitful life, with the respect and honor they deserve.

Our idea to help the WWP is this… a running event over Memorial Day weekend, beginning in Richmond, VA and ending in Washington, DC… which is a distance of over 100 miles. Three Marines; myself of Columbus, OH, Sgt. Nathan Huffman of Richmond, VA and Sgt. Kyle Ferkett of Pittsburgh, PA are going to attempt to cover the entire distance together in a single day, while other Marines, Soldiers, Sailors, and Airmen complete various portions of the route as a relay.

Right now we are trying to get the word out to as many people as possible, so we can get our wounded the support they need, and to give our fallen a tribute like no other. We cannot do this alone and desperately need the support of our local communities, politicians, and media outlets.

The ways you can support us in our journey are nearly limitless… write an article, do a story, a news piece, tell your friends, extend our network, join us on Facebook, join our page on the WWP website, donate, ask your friends to donate, run with us, greet us in Washington, send us off from Richmond, donate materials or money to our logistical needs, post fliers, contact us, contact your Senators, your Congressmen, your Governor, your boss at work… anything you can think of even if its joining our Facebook group, it is a great help to us.

Thank you for your time, and please use the information below!

LCpl. Joseph Shearer

(724) 388-3398

joeshearer26@hotmail.com

Facebook Group: “Memorial Day 100”

Visit www.woundedwarriorproject.org and join “Memorial 100”

Plugging Away

2010-01-30T21:25:00.000-05:00

Well, there is not exciting news as I had promised, I had an idea, but it didn't really come to any fruition.

In other news... let me tell you that the new DNA cushioning system Brooks has developed that adapts uniquely to the shoe wearer, is awesome. Lots of people out there think that a pair of shoes is, well, just a pair of shoes. But honestly if you run as much as I do, you can tell the difference between good and bad, old and new, etc. I was beginning to feel a slight case of tendonitis coming on, which my new kicks seem to correct pretty well, and just putting these shoes on and standing in them I could tell the cushioning was superior to anything else I have warn. Check it out at your local running store!

Training is going well, and I am pretty happy looking back at this month. I think that the hard work I am putting in now, will have exponential results when the warm weather comes and I compete. My goal for Pittsburgh is to finish under 3:30, which isn't incredibly ambitious, but the marathon distance won't be my priority until the Fall season when I try to qualify for Boston. This bitter cold sucks to run in, but every mile counts, and these difficult ones now will pay off.

A Good Start...

2010-01-17T05:26:00.000-05:00

So far so good in 2010. I think all the planning and work I have put into the Memorial 100 event has kind of lit a fire under my ass for training. When you tell people you are going to run 100 miles and want them to donate money on behalf of what you're doing, it's probably a good idea to make sure you are able to follow through with your end of the deal. January is only half-way done and I'm looking at some serious mileage, I should surpass 200 miles this month pretty decisively. The first week of the month saw my mileage distributed closely to how I had planned it out, but this past week because of an injury scare (turned out to be nothing) it was all good mid-distance runs and a couple shorties. Either way, I feel really good so far, and I am really excited to race here in a couple months. Right now Pittsburgh is my first of the year, but I have a feeling I am going to get too antsy to wait that long. I'll keep you posted on any change to my last post.

Two pairs of my running shoes are on their deathbed... which is really bittersweet. I love getting new shoes, but I am attached to my current ones. Both pairs of Brooks I had been running in for most of 2009 are quickly approaching 500 miles and are noticeably being worn down from the heavy use. I have 462 miles on my Adrenaline 9's and 412 miles on my Cascadia 3's... both have served me well in the past year. I think I might switch models for my road shoes and go with the Trance 9 on my next purchase... I have had so many pairs of Adrenaline's that I have lost count, but I think it's time to expand my horizons. Trail wise, I'm going to stick with the Cascadia and just upgrade to the 4th generation (which is definitely the best looking one to date). I remember getting the 1st generation shipped to me while I was in Iraq... which I will tell a story about in a future post.

That's all for now... BUT I have some exciting news to share in my next post, which may come early next week. Stay tuned.

Race Schedule for 2010

2010-01-15T17:55:00.001-05:00

May 2, 2010
Dick's Sporting Goods Pittsburgh Marathon   26.2 Miles

May 29-30, 2010
The Memorial 100+ Endurance Run    100+ Miles

June 12, 2010
The Laurel Ultra    70.5 Miles

September 11, 2010
Dances with Dirt- Hell    50 Miles

October 17, 2010
Nationwide Better Health Columbus Marathon   26.2 Miles

November 6, 2010
Mountain Masochist Trail Run     50 Miles

2010, The Year When Dreams Come to Fruition

2010-01-12T22:23:00.000-05:00

I have been running since early in high school, when I found that my speed and endurance were the only ways I was going to be able to be competitive in soccer, as I lacked the finesse to make creative plays and score goals. It soon became something that I loved to do, and was a habit that I would continue to develop. Though many people would say I was crazy with running back then, I wasn't exactly Scott Jurek. I remember my friend Matt and I running 12 miles once, and we bragged about it for months afterwards, as it was our shining moment in running glory. That distance seems kind of insignificant now as it's not even a half marathon, but at the time you would have thought we broke some sort of record. Nowadays things have become a bit more serious in my running adventures, a bit more crazy, and never as much fun.

I had first heard of ultrarunning as a senior in high school, when my friend Alec and I had hiked the Laurel Highlands Hiking Trail in Pennsylvania in three days, which a few park rangers had told us was unrealistically fast. We accomplished our goal of three days and I wanted to know if I could find someone who had done the trail faster... and to my surprise, lots of people had done the trail much faster than us. The Laurel Ultra is the first race I had ever heard of that was longer than a marathon, a distance of 70 miles, which I had no idea was even possible for a human being to run. The man who holds the record, Courtney Campbell, did the entire trail in 10 hours, 43 minutes, and 34 seconds. I was in complete disbelief... it struck me so much that I have never forgotten his name or the time he posted... even though I forget half of my own race times. I began to be obsessed with the idea of being able to run that far, and my own running schedule showed an amateurs effort to be elite. Five years and many setbacks later I began running competitively, and having never even run a half marathon, let alone a full, I ran my first competitive race since I was on the distance team for high school track, the Holiday Lake 50K on Valentines Day 2009. I followed it up with my first marathon in Pittsburgh, then a back injury kept me off the racing circuit for most of the Summer. I wouldn't race again till November 7th for the Mountain Masochist Trail Run in Virginia, which is my proudest accomplishment in running to date.

This year is different, I don't need to see if I can do it anymore, because I already know that I am capable. This year, I'm out to see how much better I can be, and how I can use my abilities to help others. I have two companies that believe in me enough to let me run under their banners... Brooks, who have accepted me into their Inspire Daily program for the year and Nuun who I will be sponsored by for the entire course of 2010. I also have some events that I am quite excited about being a part of, none more than an event I am co-anchoring with some fellow Marines on Memorial Day Weekend when we attempt to run over 100 miles from Richmond, VA to Washington D.C.

Stay tuned for more on this exciting year of running and racing.