Three Weeks Out

Three weeks out. That's it, just three weeks. And I'm sitting here wondering why I would sign up for such a distance.

I've ran miles upon miles over the past decade. I've picked goals, and met them. I've ran 5Ks, marathons, 50s, 150s. Fast, Slow, crawling, bent over and broken.

DNFed, so many times. Planned and trained for months, ran for hours...then gave up. Just stopped. Stopped, just like that. Walked away from it. I think about those DNFs tonight and if there will be another in three weeks.

Ultras take work, take time, take patience. I know this and I've done the work and the miles. But this race is different. It teases me; has been for years. 

This goal, this distance, this race has been in my head and under my feet for the better part of three years. I tried it twice. And failed.

I DNFed at 120 miles into it. 120 miles! Trained and trained. Felt great going into it and really had it dialed in, until the cold rolled in and I lost my way. DNFed in 2016.

Last year. Again, I ran and trained and planned. But for all my efforts, life stepped in and had other ideas for me. I never even got to see the start line. With my bags packed and my hopes high, I couldn't escape my first. DNSed in 2016.

Three weeks from now, I'll be at the start line. Life will be on hold. I've made the arrangements. Training has been great, I've done what I can. The planning is set. There's nothing more to do. Run a bit. Stay healthy. Try not to freak out about the distance.
Don't freak out.
I know I'll be ultra-sensitive to every tweak, every ache, every cramp, every creak, every damn thing my legs do.

Twenty-one days until I try once again to run further and longer than I have ever gone before. I know what to expect - I think.

Hurt. Pain. Exustion. Numbness. Dispair. Dread. Cold. Alone. There's no real reason for me to do this.

Why do I do it?

So I sit here wondering why. Wrapped in a fuzzy blanket on a soft counch with a cat asleep on my lap.

Comfortable. Content. Happy.

Trying to figure out why. What will change if I finish? It's not about bragging. If I finish, most people will never know or really understand. I'm not a tough guy. If I finish, I don't expect to feel invincible.

If I finish...then what, why?

Running this race is a selfish endeavor. It must be for me. To see.

I will run these miles to push myself to find me. For a while I'll step inward to a place where I can't lie to myself, can't hide from myself, can't pretend to be something I'm not. I get to see what's really in my head, and my heart, and my body.

And if I'm successful, if I can finish, and if I can smile at the end, then I will be more than I was.

Three weeks from now I'll toe the line a third time in an attempt to run 200 miles. And hopefully I'll succeed at the distance. But if I don't, I know that I'll learn a bit more about myself, and that I'll have a great adventure trying. 

Time For Some Snow

It's that time of year. The winds blow and the sky gets gloomy. People stop exploring and start to hibernate under the blankets, put on their wool socks and fluffy sweaters, and wait...

                    For Spring and Summer. The longer days and the sunny skys and the hot weather. 

Not me. I love the first snowy run of the year. I love to play in the crisp air. I love the dark morning runs, the give of the fresh snow as I push through, and following the animal tracks.

Today I headed to the park to play.

I needed some play time. It's been a long week - a long month. And when the snow started falling on Sunday, I knew I would find relief once I was able to get a couple of hours - and miles - surrounded by the beauty and silence of the snow covered wilderness.

I parked at the trail's enterance, slipped on my Katoolas, and darted straight toward the trees. Once I got my bearings, I pushed through the thick snow heading deeper into the woods. After some miles, I finally loped around enough to find untouched single-track.

Like a kid in a candy store. I climbed the hills, dropped into valleys, and darted around the switch-backs.

As I headed back, I hit the groomed trails, teasing XC skiers as I ran past laughing and smiling. 

Two hours and several miles later, I popped out of the trailhead and back to my car. Back to reality. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

Now is my turn to wait... 

 For my next snowy run. 

Mountain Masochist 50 Mile(ish) Race

Well. This was number three for me at this race, and each one has held different experiences and emotions for me.

Number one was one of my first 50s and my wife's first ever 50; we were to run it together. And like our marriage, we started together, found our own stride, but came together in the end to finish strong, satisfied, and exhausted.

Number two was to be solo with aspirations of kicking butt and getting a PR. This race didn't go quite like I planned. First, I went into it not fully recovered from an injury. Second, because of logistic issues, the RD changed the course so there was to be additional technical climbs and more elevation. And third, a winter storm dumped 8" of fresh snow on the back half of the course. The race went great after I came to terms that it would be a slow one. I took my time, enjoyed the journey, and finished feeling accomplished.

That was to be my last MMTR. I had done it twice, enjoyed the trails, excitement, friend's company, and great overall race experience.

 Over the years, I've had the pleasure to meet and run many a race with Donna U. She's amazing, and her running is just beyond anything. We've helped each other through some tough, rough lows and we've shared trails and views few people will ever experience. I'm proud to know her.

 My love for the trails and my friendship with Donna is what brought me back to the MMTR for a third time. This is one of Donna's most run 50 milers. In fact, this was to be her 10th; a big deal in the Ultra running community. So how could I not be there to share such a great experience with her? The answer, I couldn't. As soon as we heard that she was in, Paula and I made arrangements to enjoy in the fun. Hotel booked, registration paid for, time off planned - all before Summer.

 A lot of running this year. A lot of races. A lot of good racing. Strong legs, fast paces, great weather. The MMTR was turning from a run to cheer Donna to a race. No more just a fun run, but a real opportunity to get a good time, and maybe a PR.

 Two weeks out. I get a text from a friend, "Got room for one more?" "Heck,Yes!". Ken was in. Now it's a party!

 Two days out - Thursday. We're packed and on the road heading south. It's raining the entire drive, but we know the weekend is forcasted to be perfect. We enjoy the drive and the Fall colors; the trees just keep getting brighter the closer we get to the Blue Ridge Mountains. We're laughing and singing to 70s hits all the way. Long drive, checked into the hotel, dinner was great, and the day had gone.

 One day out - Friday. Paula goes for a run while Ken and I enjoy the city park and the warm day. Lunch. Donna and Bill check in and the whirlwind starts. Time for supplies, laughing, packet pickup, laughing, pre-race dinner, laughing, plans for the morning, then it's time for bed.

 Where did the day go? I've got to get up in 4 hours! No worries, I've got the gas station picked out for morning coffee.

 Race day! We're up. It's early, really early. The RD lost the buses, yup no buses this year. So I drive. Donna, Ken, and I are in the Subaru and headed to the start. Everyone's quiet and in their pre-race mindset. I like the drive, like the ability to park and be comfortable unlike the years past sitting on the cold, dark buses until it's time to start. I'm running late because of my lax attitude and tell them to head down, that I'll be right there. But I'm running behind and just make it to the start; the last to cross the line and the best views to see all of the headlamps bobbing into the darkness around the lake. The weather at the start is in the 40s, but the promise of sunny skies and 60s is ahead.

 My legs feel good and my breath is slow as I take my time warming up along one of the few flat sections of the race. Within the first mile, I catch up to Ken. We chat for a moment, but I want to pass as many people as I can; I know that in less than a mile we turn onto trails and then passing becomes difficult. This is the last time I see Ken until that evening.

 Donna's ahead somewhere and I set my sites on catching up and running with her until dawn. By mile 2 we're together and climbing. During the next five miles, the runners are finding their grooves and we chat with a lot of people passing us and that we're passing. Donna starts a conversation with some other ladies while I'm feeling like sprinting so as the sun comes up, I pull away from the group and go solo.

 For the next 20 miles, I cruse along gradually passing and chatting with a variety of runners; some young first timers and others experienced men and women. All are friendly and enjoying the warmth, sun, and trails. The aid stations come and go.

 Mile twenty-six is the halfway point. It really is the dividing line between two completely separate races.

The first half is wide fire roads, rolling trails, and the darkness of night into the day. It ends with a climb that goes forever, ending in farming fields and the only major aid station. I find my drop bag, clean up, and dress down because of the heat of the day. Donna is behind me, and Ken is behind her. So Bill, Donna's husband, chats it up while I change. And as I say she's probably 20 minutes behind me she glides up to us. She's so fast! So much for my lead on her. 

The half way is just the beginning, of the race and the climbing. I know it. Some people don't. Who's better off, me for the knowledge or them in their ignorance? So I climb out of the aid station. And I climb and climb, for miles.

 Donna's ahead of me. I want to catch her. I want to finish before her to be there when she crosses the line. But she's fast. Super fast. And I know this might be it. But I catch her and we enjoy the next several miles together until we hit the Loop.

 The Loop. A technical six mile section that she's taking her time with. "Go. I'm gonna run it slow. Don't wait for me." So I don't.

 This is my playground! Tight and fast. Up, down, rocky, rooted, trees and leaves. Up, up, up I climb to the peak, to the 360° views of the Fall colors covering the Blue Ridge Mountains. Then down, almost a mile drop and I must run it. "Excuse me" I say a dozen times as I pass people on my way down. I love it! Six miles gone, just like that.

 For me the race is done once I finish the Loop. From there, I've got about a half marathon to go. Some good climbs, some good single track, and a great finish if you've got the legs. I run comfortably and pass a few others for the next 8-9 miles until I get to the last aid station. From here, I've got four miles to go, three are downhill and the last is a flat road section into the finish. I feel good and I run as fast as I can on the trail because while it's downhill, it's littered with rocks and leaves. Two miles two go. The trail opens up, is clear, and smooth so I kick it into high gear. Two more runners passed by the time I hit the road. Then a great feeling 8 minute mile to the finish for a 20 minute PR. So great! 

Donna and Ken are still on the course so I get changed quickly and head back to the finish with Bill. Not more than a few minutes pass before Donna is coming up the road and to the finish. She's done it - MMTR x10.

Woo Hoo

 Where's Ken? We get Donna changed and grab some soup. Time to cheer Ken in. Where's Ken? 40 minutes before the cutoff. Where's Ken? The sun is setting. 20 minutes until the cutoff. Where's Ken? Sonofabitch, 10 minutes until the cutoff. He'll be here. 5 minutes until the end, Where's Ken? He'll make it, it's Ken. 4 minuts to go. Is that Ken? GO KEN!

He made it with time to spare. Of course he did, he's Ken.

Mountain Masochist 50 Mile(ish) Race

Well. This was number three for me at this race, and each one has held different experiences and emotions for me.

Number one was one of my first 50s and my wife's first ever 50; we were to run it together. And like our marriage, we started together, found our own stride, but came together in the end to finish strong, satisfied, and exhausted.

Number two was to be solo with aspirations of kicking butt and getting a PR. This race didn't go quite like I planned. First, I went into it not fully recovered from an injury. Second, because of logistic issues, the RD changed the course so there was to be additional technical climbs and more elevation. And third, a winter storm dumped 8" of fresh snow on the back half of the course. The race went great after I came to terms that it would be a slow one. I took my time, enjoyed the journey, and finished feeling accomplished.

That was to be my last MMTR. I had done it twice, enjoyed the trails, excitement, friend's company, and great overall race experience.

 Over the years, I've had the pleasure to meet and run many a race with Donna U. She's amazing, and her running is just beyond anything. We've helped each other through some tough, rough lows and we've shared trails and views few people will ever experience. I'm proud to know her.

 My love for the trails and my friendship with Donna is what brought me back to the MMTR for a third time. This is one of Donna's most run 50 milers. In fact, this was to be her 10th; a big deal in the Ultra running community. So how could I not be there to share such a great experience with her? The answer, I couldn't. As soon as we heard that she was in, Paula and I made arrangements to enjoy in the fun. Hotel booked, registration paid for, time off planned - all before Summer.

 A lot of running this year. A lot of races. A lot of good racing. Strong legs, fast paces, great weather. The MMTR was turning from a run to cheer Donna to a race. No more just a fun run, but a real opportunity to get a good time, and maybe a PR.

 Two weeks out. I get a text from a friend, "Got room for one more?" "Heck,Yes!". Ken was in. Now it's a party!

 Two days out - Thursday. We're packed and on the road heading south. It's raining the entire drive, but we know the weekend is forcasted to be perfect. We enjoy the drive and the Fall colors; the trees just keep getting brighter the closer we get to the Blue Ridge Mountains. We're laughing and singing to 70s hits all the way. Long drive, checked into the hotel, dinner was great, and the day had gone.

 One day out - Friday. Paula goes for a run while Ken and I enjoy the city park and the warm day. Lunch. Donna and Bill check in and the whirlwind starts. Time for supplies, laughing, packet pickup, laughing, pre-race dinner, laughing, plans for the morning, then it's time for bed.

 Where did the day go? I've got to get up in 4 hours! No worries, I've got the gas station picked out for morning coffee.

 Race day! We're up. It's early, really early. The RD lost the buses, yup no buses this year. So I drive. Donna, Ken, and I are in the Subaru and headed to the start. Everyone's quiet and in their pre-race mindset. I like the drive, like the ability to park and be comfortable unlike the years past sitting on the cold, dark buses until it's time to start. I'm running late because of my lax attitude and tell them to head down, that I'll be right there. But I'm running behind and just make it to the start; the last to cross the line and the best views to see all of the headlamps bobbing into the darkness around the lake. The weather at the start is in the 40s, but the promise of sunny skies and 60s is ahead.

 My legs feel good and my breath is slow as I take my time warming up along one of the few flat sections of the race. Within the first mile, I catch up to Ken. We chat for a moment, but I want to pass as many people as I can; I know that in less than a mile we turn onto trails and then passing becomes difficult. This is the last time I see Ken until that evening.

 Donna's ahead somewhere and I set my sites on catching up and running with her until dawn. By mile 2 we're together and climbing. During the next five miles, the runners are finding their grooves and we chat with a lot of people passing us and that we're passing. Donna starts a conversation with some other ladies while I'm feeling like sprinting so as the sun comes up, I pull away from the group and go solo.

 For the next 20 miles, I cruse along gradually passing and chatting with a variety of runners; some young first timers and others experienced men and women. All are friendly and enjoying the warmth, sun, and trails. The aid stations come and go.

 Mile twenty-six is the halfway point. It really is the dividing line between two completely separate races.

The first half is wide fire roads, rolling trails, and the darkness of night into the day. It ends with a climb that goes forever, ending in farming fields and the only major aid station. I find my drop bag, clean up, and dress down because of the heat of the day. Donna is behind me, and Ken is behind her. So Bill, Donna's husband, chats it up while I change. And as I say she's probably 20 minutes behind me she glides up to us. She's so fast! So much for my lead on her. 

The half way is just the beginning, of the race and the climbing. I know it. Some people don't. Who's better off, me for the knowledge or them in their ignorance? So I climb out of the aid station. And I climb and climb, for miles.

 Donna's ahead of me. I want to catch her. I want to finish before her to be there when she crosses the line. But she's fast. Super fast. And I know this might be it. But I catch her and we enjoy the next several miles together until we hit the Loop.

 The Loop. A technical six mile section that she's taking her time with. "Go. I'm gonna run it slow. Don't wait for me." So I don't.

 This is my playground! Tight and fast. Up, down, rocky, rooted, trees and leaves. Up, up, up I climb to the peak, to the 360° views of the Fall colors covering the Blue Ridge Mountains. Then down, almost a mile drop and I must run it. "Excuse me" I say a dozen times as I pass people on my way down. I love it! Six miles gone, just like that.

 For me the race is done once I finish the Loop. From there, I've got about a half marathon to go. Some good climbs, some good single track, and a great finish if you've got the legs. I run comfortably and pass a few others for the next 8-9 miles until I get to the last aid station. From here, I've got four miles to go, three are downhill and the last is a flat road section into the finish. I feel good and I run as fast as I can on the trail because while it's downhill, it's littered with rocks and leaves. Two miles two go. The trail opens up, is clear, and smooth so I kick it into high gear. Two more runners passed by the time I hit the road. Then a great feeling 8 minute mile to the finish for a 20 minute PR. So great! 

Donna and Ken are still on the course so I get changed quickly and head back to the finish with Bill. Not more than a few minutes pass before Donna is coming up the road and to the finish. She's done it - MMTR x10.

Woo Hoo

 Where's Ken? We get Donna changed and grab some soup. Time to cheer Ken in. Where's Ken? 40 minutes before the cutoff. Where's Ken? The sun is setting. 20 minutes until the cutoff. Where's Ken? Sonofabitch, 10 minutes until the cutoff. He'll be here. 5 minutes until the end, Where's Ken? He'll make it, it's Ken. 4 minuts to go. Is that Ken? GO KEN!

He made it with time to spare. Of course he did, he's Ken.

Wasatch Front 100 Miler - Salt Lake City, UT

The Boston Marathon

Sitting here, just outside Boston the morning after the Marathon thinking about yesterday's events. I won't let this coward ruin my memories of this trip, our visit with family, and the running of The Boston Marathon. The day started off beautifully with the sun shining and just a bit of chill. Paula and I made it to Hopkinton, visited friends, and watched all the other runners stretching and excited for the race. Paula and I started the race together but soon separated, finding our own paces; mine faster than hers. I was excited and happy at the half way because I was still ahead of Paula and had a great half-marathon time of 1:40:00. I fell of the pace at mile 17 and Paula soon caught up and passed me a few minutes before I saw Rick L. cheering and waiting for Andrea. From there, my legs were done from last weekend's 150 miler and I had to do a bit of walking to finish up the race. Bit I did finish the Boston marathon! And I finished smiling. No worries, no cares, just taking and celebrating with the other runners and volunteers. Paula ran it in 3:43 and I did it in 3:52. Paula and I met up at our bag drop area and headed to the T station at Arlington on our way out of town and to our cousin's work where we were to meet up and head home. The T was stopped at the next station, Hynes, and we were told to leave because of an emergency. The day was perfect up until then... I knew there was trouble when we exited because of the police and ambulance traffic. I contacted my cousin, looked at the map, and got Paula walking toward our pickup and away from the chaos. We found out a we were walking that two bombs had gone off at the finish line directly above our subway train... From this point, the country knows the rest. The person that did this is a coward and his actions were senseless. If he was trying to cause terror, he failed - what I saw was every able police, fireman, ambulance, and local running toward the explosions to help. He didn't cause terror, he caused sadness. The sadness we all feel for the families of the injured and grief we all feel for the losses. But let us not forget this weekend or the race or Patriot's Day! or the bombing. Remember it all.

The Potowatomi Trail 150 Miler

The HUFF 50K

Packed up all the cars, picked up all the friends, and headed South to play in the woods...Buckle!

MMTR #2 - Hills, Hills, and More Hills

Brooksie Way #5

Air Force Marathon - A New PR

Angeles Crest 100 Miler

Mohican 100 Miler

Trail Weekend - No Wimps Challenge

Potawatomi Trail 150 Miler

LBL 50 Miler - A Great Race

Winter Wolf 2012 - COLD!!!!!

Get Your FA Running 26.2 - Miller's Race

The Huff 50K - DNFed

MMTR 50 Miler - Running with Paula

Great race and fun times running with Paula for her first 50 miler.