Tuesday, December 31, 2019

A look back at 2019

Here we are, at the precipice of another year. These past 12 months have been a blur, of sorts, with many ups, but certainly a few downs. From a running perspective, this has been my best year on many fronts, and one that I am trying to look back on with maximum insight.

Earlier this year, a running friend suggested I “have some hubris”, which made me pause. Until recently, running has been a recreational hobby for which I have sought friendships and physical fitness, while also using it to bring me some much needed mental clarity. Running competitively was something I actually fought. So much so that I regularly told my friends that I just didn’t want to spend the money on scores of races because I wasn’t interested in competing. I loved the camaraderie and the places that running took me. The idea of racing seemed foreign and not worth all the work. With that, I raced in a few events but never really trained effectively and chose to be happy with the results. In 2017, a couple of close friends began to push me to race. Their pleas were friendly enough, but they saw something in me that I chose to ignore, because again, it seemed like way too much work. At the end of that year, I signed up for a small, local race, and with the voices of those friends in my ear, I chose to push myself a little more than I had before. The result was a win, which was something I had never experienced before. And just like that, a fire was lit.

Coming into this year, having pushed myself a little in 2018 to distances I had never dreamed of (my first and then second 50K and my first 50 miler), I had been working with a friend who coached me to build a solid base and lay down some fundamentals. The year started out with a bang, as I traveled to Springfield for my first 50K of the season. In what would be symbolic of nearly my entire season, I led from the start and won. There were new feelings inside me that were very strange. How could this be possible? To be honest, I fought some internal voices that told me I was too old, that I didn’t have the pedigree or history in this sport, and that I must have gotten lucky. I didn’t give myself a lot of time before tackling another 50K just 4 weeks later. This race went the exact same way, with me leading from the start and beating the course record by over an hour. This was leading me to my very first 100K in mid-April, and I was petrified.

Getting to that race was daunting, mainly because the idea of running 62 miles seemed ridiculous, but I had begun to learn how to mentally prepare, and by the time I lined up for that event, I had no doubts that I would complete it. I went out easy and yet I still led from start to finish, this time breaking the course record by over an hour and a half. Even with some early season successes, I still had some doubts, but that wasn’t what would eventually do me in when I got to my 50 miler in July. It turns out that I developed a bad case of “cocky” and would end up DNFing after 29 miles, due to the simple fact that I was a moron. Poor sleep, lack of hydration, and arrogance led to a disappointing finish, but I picked myself up, learned from my mistake, and swore not to make that one again. It was just before this race that I also hired a new coach. More on that later.

Heading into August, I was fortunate enough to be on the same ultra relay team that won the 2018 Elkhorn Relay, setting an ultra team record, and an overall course record to boot. We got pumped up for 2019 and knew there was another fast ultra team that would be there. From the start we pushed, and in just a few legs we seemed to be pulling away from the otherguys. But just as we thought we might be leaving them in the dust, they suddenly appeared, overtaking us. We pushed on, passing them again, pulling away. And yet, here they came again. Near leg 31 (of 36 legs), we were told we had built nearly a 2 hour lead. We pushed even harder, knowing they had seemed to appear out of nowhere twice before. Sure enough, in just 3 short legs, they were a mere 4 minutes behind. We didn’t understand. How could this be? As we carried on, it became evident they were picking up their runners at times and driving them forward in an effort to catch us. We were blown away that anyone would do that for a race, but we kept at it nonetheless. In the end, the other team was disqualified, we were crowned the victors, and as had appeared to be customary by this point, we shattered our own course record by nearly 3 hours. The experience was the stuff of movies, and we talked about if for weeks after.

My training had taken me to new levels, thanks to a new coach, who bumped up my mileage and elevation gain far beyond anything I had ever done. My highest mileage year before this one was 2018, where I squeaked past 2,100. My highest elevation gain was also last year, in which I managed just under 160,000 feet. Both of those totals seemed gaudy at the time, and I remember hoping I could come close to those again. Halfway through this year, I was on pace for 3,000 miles and 240,000 feet of gain. I still find those numbers staggering, and yet I am fully aware of what 2020 could be. As I contemplated my stats, I also knew that my first 100 miler had become an active part of my conversations with my coach and close friends. And while I did not attempt one this year, I did enter a lottery for one that would have taken place in late September. When I wasn’t selected in the initial lottery, I pulled my name from the hat and chose instead to find a tough 100K for a late season race. Little did I know what lay ahead.

When I signed up for the NUT 100K, a lot of weird things went through my head. It really was less about the distance, because I had already pulled that off once, but more about the elevation gain, which rivals many 100 milers. I did my best to keep my training and my climbing maxed out in an effort to be as ready as possible. Sidebar; I’m not sure I was ready for that. Still, the day came and I was excited for the opportunity to run in an area I had never been, while also hoping for some high quality competition. The day was ideal, and as is now kind of my modus operandi, I led from the start. There were many times late in the race I was certain someone was coming up behind me, and yet, no one came. I would win my second 100K of the year, along with a sweet new Suunto watch! I still stare in awe at the picture the race organizer took of me finishing. How did I do that? I seem to go back and forth a lot about what I’m truly capable of. And yet, God has given me some cool skills that I am trying hard to use to the best of my abilities.

The first person I called, after finishing, was my wife. Funny thing is she already knew because there was a live feed on FB of the race and she had seen something pop up. The second person I called was my coach. At this point, it is important to point out that I am working hard to listen to someone who has far more experience in racing ultras than I will probably ever have. I am extraordinarily thankful for Sean, but also for my friends who have helped get me this far. Even more, I am insanely thankful for my wife, who has transformed my diet and kept me in line to be as present at home as I am on the trail.

This next year is unknown. Each day is a gift. My goal is to face it head on. I have signed up for my first 100 miler, which happens in late March. I have two 50K’s and a 25K on the books as well. Beyond those, I am planning to chase an even bigger dream, by signing up for a race that has National Team implications. The idea of running and racing for my country is almost overwhelming, but I believe it’s worth chasing. Further, I will seek a Western States qualifier at some point this year, believing I can set an age group record for that event.

I’m not going to lie, I’m having fun with this. There are still struggles to overcome, but as the song says, “I just want to live before I die.”

Wednesday, May 15, 2019

Chasing spring, spying summer

In years past, I tended to stay away from races in the winter, with only a few minor exceptions. I’m not a huge fan of running in deep snow or any kind of ice. If that’s your thing, fantastic. Not me. However, as 2018 came to a close and I began to lay out my plan for racing in 2019, I placed 2 races in the winter season. Both races were of the 50K variety, with one being flat (200’ of gain) and the other being anything but flat (6,000’ of gain). Following those races, I placed my first 100K (ever) at the end of April, in hopes that old man winter would be dead and gone by then.

Fortunately, the snow was long gone by the end of April and I was able to (mostly) enjoy my foray into running 60 miles at once. I could have done without the wind that day, but we powered through. Following that race, I stared hard at the calendar, as it would be 2-1/2 months before my next big race. Fortunately, there is much good that comes in these middle spaces for me. This past weekend, just 2 weeks removed from my 100K, my wife and I split a half marathon together as a race, taking 3rd among teams doing the “relay”. It was fun to see her do so well at just over a 10K distance, with no pain, and smiling at the end. We left there and enjoyed a wonderful breakfast together.

On the first weekend of June, we will get to run together again on a 6 person relay team, all in the name of fun, as the total race distance is only 54 miles, and we will be with friends. The following weekend, our eldest will graduate from high school and a great horde will descend upon our home for a great weekend of celebrating.

As I begin to ratchet my mileage back up, heading further into spring, I am reminded that I am very fortunate to have the support I have. This running community is something I deeply cherish, but more importantly is the team I have at home. My mental state is typically quite good when I am running and maintaining high mileage, but part of that mental state is knowing that I am well taken care of. I can see ahead to the summer and there are 2 major races coming, both being my golden rings for the year. I have high expectations for both, but before getting there, I have to train my socks off. It is humbling to know that the rails are secure beneath me as I carry on.

Run on, friends.

Sunday, March 24, 2019

Post flu, finding dirt and testing new things



Week before last, I was coming out of my recovery week, following my most recent race. Typically, I like to kick the mileage down to the high 30’s or low 40’s, depending on how I’m feeling. My recovery week ended up being nearly 49 miles....so not the normal, but I was feeling great! Which is perhaps how I came down with the flu.

As I tripped into the week of the 11th, I went from feeling strong and ready to feeling weak and miserable. I took 3 days off in hopes of letting it pass and ran an easy 6 on the mill (read as dreadmill). Sadly, the idea of “burning” the sickness out by way of running hard was not as easy as I had hoped. Over the next 3 days, I did 11, then a double of 6 and 11, then finally another 11, to finish with 45 miles for the week. All this on a week that I felt should have been closer to 60. I get it, rest and recovery are critical, but when the brain pushes and the heart craves, the body relents, even when it screams stop.

The week of the 18th started with renewed hope. I got some intervals and stair work in, then a solid mid-tempo mill run, then a fairly crazy run in foot deep snow that required some crazy, high-knee work, but left me muddy all over. YESSSS!!


After a tough lunch run, which included some nasty 25 mph head winds and rain, I had hopes for a Saturday run on dirt. For those who haven’t had the joy of being buried by the snow this winter, let me just say that I have been aching to feel dirt under my feet for far too long. I took the advice of a fellow runner and friend and went east where I was told they had trails again. I showed up at the Barnes Butte (Prineville, OR) trail head just before 9am to meet my buddy. As we headed out, there was almost immediately the presence of ice and snow in the shadows of some nearby trees. But I had anticipated that and figured I would just get in 10-12 and be happy with whatever, expecting to traipse through a fair amount of snow. I had no idea how wrong I would be.

As we headed into the woods, it wasn’t long before we were climbing, which is kind of one my favorite things. I expected snow. There wasn’t any. We kept going up. There must be some at the top, I thought. I was wrong again. It wasn’t until we drifted off the north face of our climb before we found ourselves bounding through some 7-10” deep white stuff, but it didn’t last long. About a mile later we turned up another hill, heading south and east. There was a solid dirt trail the entire way. And soon, it was gone. We crested that hill and came upon glorious, sweet, beautiful, snow-free single track. My heart did a little jumping jack. My feet did a little dance. We moved on. For the next 6 miles we ran on nothing but dirt. Without snow. With no ice. Where rocks were visible. And it was amazing.

When we got back to the trail head, we both remarked how we had perhaps taken our trails for granted, ever since losing them to old man winter. This year, the snow came hard and fast, and covered everything with at least 2 feet of it, all within 24 hours. The treadmill became necessary and the flu became OK, because where was I going to run anyway?!

Saturday was the reset my heart and soul needed. It also provided me an opportunity to test new things, namely shoes and a neat new vest. I’ll post gear reviews soon for both, so stay tuned.

Tonight will be the cap to my week, finishing over 60 for the first time in a month. The flu seems to be mostly gone, although my voice is still suspect. The dirt is reappearing in most of my favorite haunts, and soon, all remnants of snow will be gone, for now.

Run on.

Tuesday, March 12, 2019

Learning

Moving in new directions requires change. For most of us, we regard change as scary and recognize how we will have to adapt to whatever the change is. Adjusting to change is prickly and it hurts. Things are no longer as they were.

As we age, we experience new things. We all change to some degree or another. Some of us choose to remain a certain way, based on our thoughts, our actions, our opinions, our decisions, our speech, our behaviors, and so on. Depending on your sphere of influence, you may remain the same because those around you remain the same. This happens in tight knit cultures and communities. In more open societies, where parents move around and kids are forced to make changes to their surroundings, their friends, their schools, their very way of lives, we see how change affects those thoughts, actions, opinions, decisions, and so on.

An outside influence can be very powerful for most people and is often the primary reason why change happens, even when we might not want it. When a job change happens unexpectedly, for whatever reason, it brings a change to the people you have around you. You begin to hear different voices, who have different opinions and live differently than the host of people you were surrounded by in your last job. The same can be said when you move, or change schools, or churches.

Another shift happens when you choose to make a major life change, such as quitting a harmful addiction. You may find yourself around a new group of people because you can’t be around those who fed your addiction. This is a part of the recovery process and is typically very healthy for maintaining the change you are making. But this also comes with its bevy of issues, because this new set of people also have their own behaviors and opinions and such. Their speech patterns and characteristics are different than what you have been used to so you must adapt. But you must also make new choices about what you choose to see, what you allow yourself to be controlled by, how you react, and so forth.

When I was younger, I remember reading a series of books that were known as “choose your own adventure”. The series was fascinating because throughout the book there were points where you had to make a choice that was to affect the outcome of the story. I loved this concept and read as many of the books as I could get my hands on. I even remember wanting to write my own! The idea hearkens from our own lives, where we have a set of choices to make each day. Those choices determine an outcome, and sometimes it’s not good. Each of us has made a bad choice or two, and had to live with the consequences. As we go through life, and change becomes a part of who we are and what we face, we must also recognize our own culpability in the change that takes place. The choices we make affect the changes that often occur. The choices of others have an affect on us, and likewise, the choices we make have an affect on others. This will always be true. We call this the ripple effect.

Currently, I am witnessing the outcome of decisions I have made in the past year. My decision to walk away from being a pastor is still being felt and it is having an impact on others. The decision to move towards being a competitive ultra runner is having a massive impact on others. The changes that are being wrought through these decisions are bringing change for people around me, not just me. These changes are not always easy to deal with and are often regarded as inconvenient and difficult. I am being impacted by those who desire certain things and decisions from me, regardless of my opinions. Each new place I walk into has new faces with new agendas and perspectives, it can all be very overwhelming. And yet through all of this, I am learning.

One thing for certain is people have weird expectations. I chose to use the word weird because I’m also trying not to piss everyone off. But in all honesty, the expectations of others often bring chaos to a situation when none was warranted. If you are a parent and you have an expectation that your child will wipe his butt after going to the bathroom, you probably have a right to be a little angry about massive skid stains when it’s time to do laundry. That might be a graphic example but I like to make it obvious. There are a lot of people in my life who, for whatever reason, have decided that they have some reasonable right to expect me to be something they want. If I had not witnessed it so glaringly in this last year it would be pure speculation, but this is blatant, much like my example above, and stinks just as much. Expectations are not always bad, but they tend to be best served when they are broadcast and everyone knows what they are. Instead, there are those who harbor expectations without sharing them and then decide you need to know them after you’ve made a decision that does not align with their irrationality. Once again, this stinks.

The struggle becomes more than real when relationships are tarnished in the process. What was something that could be counted on becomes something that is suspect, because privately held agendas are dangerous. And while change is difficult for some, it is extremely difficult for those who place hidden agendas and purpose upon certain individuals, only to realize that a person is not a commodity and is subject to change. One thing I am learning through this is who to trust and who to respect as a threat to my well-being. There are lots of well-meaning people out there who seem to want the best for you, but when you zig instead of zag, you must realize that your decision may have an insane impact upon them. Without question, this all brings up the necessity of communication, both spoken and written. Yet isn’t that a shame? It seems shameful to me that we can no longer trust someone because of their expectations of us, even if we simply tell them our plans. A true friend will support you in your plans and warn you if they seem crazy. But a true friend will not get upset at you because you didn’t do what they wanted you to do for yourself. That might seem like a real tongue twister, but it’s true.

In a deeper search for who I am, I have recently discovered some new things about myself. I have been sharing them with a few select individuals. In some cases, I have found unlimited support, but in others I have found disappointment; not for what I am doing, but for what I am not doing, which is what they would have me do. That hurts. A lot. But I’m still learning.