2017 Isle Du Bois 55k Race Report

I was staggering along the trail thinking, "I'm going to just keep walking until I faint.  Then this will all be over."


The lead up to that moment in the Isle Du Bois 55k saw me more excited about running in a long time, so the possibility of not finishing the race stung.   After the Night Moves Trail Marathon in August, I set my sights on the Bandera 100k.  The plan was to run several races for training.  , including the Dinosaur Valley 50k.


I'd been having lower back pain, sometimes not so bad sometimes sharp, since I'd stressed it at Night Moves.  This didn't stop me from running but it wasn't fun.  But then I came down with plantar fasciitus.  I think it was from a five hour walk I did right after Hurricane Harvey; I had been cooped up for days and walked around the Woodlands for hours looking around.  Regardless, my right heel and sole hurt badly enough to stop me from running for six weeks in mid-September to October.  I biked to keep up some semblance of fitness but I couldn't start Dinosaur Valley.  I got running again in early November.


I've been teaching Saturday at The University of Houston - Cy Fair, which is great but severely curtails my choice of races.  UHD designates the week before finals a reading week for the students, so I signed up for the Isle Du Bois 55k to take advantage of the free weekend and prepare for Bandera.  November training left me fairly confident. I built up to a twenty mile training run, a distance I always considered a benchmark for fitness.  But that run ended in a slog, as I didn't take any calories with me and crashed at the end.  So I was in reasonable shape but definitely not peak fitness yet.


Then the week of the race I got sick with a cold.  I rarely get sick but seem to come down with something fairly often before races; I remember I was sniffling and coughing as I started the 2014 Rocky Raccoon 100.   I don't know if it is the increased training or a psychological thing, but regardless it's no fun going into a race you trained for weak with a cold.


The Denton Area Running Club hosts Isle Du Bois at Ray Roberts Lake State Park, a beautiful venue.  The course consists of twisty and rocky mountain bike trails.  Some smooth running stretches, but a lot of short up and downs over rocks that prevent you from settling into a rhythm.  The race is super low key with 20 or so starting the 55k but has a nice, friendly vibe.


The course is all single-track, and somehow I found myself third or fourth in front.  I quickly stepped aside to join the back of a pack in the middle. 


During the second loop of three 11 mile loops, weakness set in, a combination of perhaps not enough training but mostly the cold.  Dizzy and coughing, I slowed to a crawl.  Runners asked if I were okay, so I obviously looked bad.  I calculated that I was moving far slower than twenty minutes a mile and at that rate there was no way I'd finish by the cutoff.  When you have put a lot of yourself into a dream and you feel it slipping away, that's bleak.  That's when the thought of just putting one foot in front of the other until I passed out seemed weirdly attractive.


Then I thought about the four-hour car ride home with the depression of a DNF and said to myself, "I don't want to do that."  That jerked me out of the wooziness and I found I could run again.  I plowed through the second loop.


Most ultras consist of peaks and valleys; this one I felt bad the whole way, only varied by the degree of badness.  My back and my ankle both hurt and I worried about re-injury.  I mostly hiked the third loop but ran enough to feel I'd made a decent effort.  I had to run really; this was my first race where I was in danger of not making the cutoffs.  Though the race organizers were not strict about it, we were supposed to start the third loop by 1:30 and finish by 5:30.  I beat those times by a few minutes.   There was a small group waiting in the parking lot at the finish who cheered for me.  A volunteer at an aid station when I was down shook my hand.


Despite not being the joyful experience I'd hoped for, I felt wonderful finishing.  When all seems lost and somehow you push on and accomplish what you set out to do, that's a great feeling.  Perhaps that's why I run these races. 


Though I set out to run the Isle Du Bois as a training run, the race seems oddly important to me.  It was my 20th ultramarathon finish.  It also was the only ultra I finished in 2017, allowing me to keep my streak of running at least one ultra a year since 2012 going. 


If I don't better my pace for Bandera, I will miss my 17 hour goal for a Western States 100 ticket.  I hope with more training and starting healthy I can meet that goal.  But I definitely feel better about my prospects with a finish than a DNF. 


Thanks to the Denton Area Running Club, the volunteers, and Terri for all your support.  On to Bandera!

Pre-race

 

Finish Line

About to leave the lake

Cool award!

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2017 Night Moves Trail Race

When you think about tough race courses, it's usually elevation gain and rocky terrain.  The Night Moves Trail marathon teaches you about the power of sand and grass.

Held in the 7IL Ranch, Night Moves on the surface should not be a grueling race.  No climbing to speak of, starting at 8pm so the Texas heat in August plays a minor role.  But think about this. You know the slow-motion heaviness of running on the beach? You know when there's no more sidewalk and you trudge along the grassy shoulder of a road?  These feelings to me sum up Night Moves, which travels over sandy horse trails and open fields.

I had finally gotten in some consistent training for this race.  After running a couple off-the-couch half marathons to motivate myself to get back into running, I had experienced some sharp calf pain at the Pandora's Box of Rox Marathon which forced me to drop halfway. Then, this July I had the best month of training since my injury in January 2015.

The evening started off hot but with a pleasant breeze.  I had had some twinges on my knee and right foot earlier in the day and was weak from the start.  The plodding pace quickly drained me through the short purple loop (the course consists of short purple loop of less than six miles, red loop 7.9 miles, orange 7.5 miles, long purple 6.3 miles).

I've suffered from back pain off and on since my mid-twenties and early in the race my back seized up.  It probably didn't help that before the race I was hunched over pumping air into the inflatable mattress in the tent for ten minutes.  My posture was impaired for the race and aid station workers asked me if I'd injured my hip.  Each step hurt.

The course was well-marked but in the dark with the open-field running I took a wrong turn on the red loop and ended up at the start well ahead of time.  The race director Rob gave good directions to get back on course.  I moved pretty slowly through the first half of the race.

I always get jitters early in a race, thinking about the long hours ahead. Will I make it? On the orange loop things started clicking and I settled into a groove, picking up the pace a bit and making steady progress.  Still, on the back half of the orange seemed interminable.  Round the corner and there's another long open field.  And another. And another.

Finally making it back to the start I fueled up.  I hadn't used Tailwind before and drank it exclusively during the race; I think it really helped keep up the energy.  I chugged a Red Bull as it was past one am at this point and I've suffered sleep deprivation in past events, though it never came this night.

On the long purple I suddenly decided to run hard, for my midpack abilities anyway.  By this point I knew the grass fields were unpleasant but way more runnable than the sand.  I charged ahead. Though my legs and back hurt, I had energy and it felt like a regular jog after work almost.  Arriving at the final aid station, I asked how far it was to the finish.  Less than three miles.  I had knocked out  half the loop.

I hiked most of the sandy sections, eased by the thought that no matter what I'd be done in less than an hour.  Again, I picked up the pace on the runnable stuff and finished in a sprint.

Interesting wildlife encounters:  three snakes, a rabbit, and a handful of cows on the trail in the middle of the night.

It's been a year since I finished a marathon and it is always a wonderful feeling to finish a long race. Rob, Rachel, and all the volunteers put on a great race and thanks to all!

2016 Muleshoe Bend 60k

The Background

The 2016 Muleshoe Bend 60k marked, I hope, the end of a long recovery process from injury. The last race I felt I ran truly well was the 2014 Cactus Rose 100 mile.  Injury at the 2015 Bandera 100k, which was a maddeningly persistent inflammation behind the left knee, took me out of running for nine months.  Though I was able to complete the Wild Hare 50k and Bandera 50k (a drop down from the 100k), these were more shuffling along and getting through the distance.  I never felt strong, never got into a rhythm training.  Between assorted other minor injuries and work demands, I felt like I was just faking it as far as running went.  Sure I'd get in a few runs a week, but I knew I wasn't anywhere close to the runner I was two years ago, physically or mentally. When I mentioned my past ultrarunning to others, I felt like a fraud or as if I was referring to some other person who no longer existed.

Desperate to break free from this dark period, I decided to focus on training for the Arkansas Traveller 100 Miler in October, using Capt'n Karl's Mule Shoe Bend 60k as the first training race to build up to the distance.  Though again my training was far from ideal, I did manage to get in a strong 70 mile week immediately prior to Muleshoe, complete with a trip with the family to Bandera for hill repeats.  I worried if one good week would be enough but I decided to go for it.

The Course

Muleshoe Bend is a deceptively tough course.  Without the extended climbs of races like Bandera or Rough Creek, nevertheless the rocky terrain beats up your legs.

The course consists of a nine mile loop, run four times for the 60k.  The first section the loop of about three miles features some up and down ridge running, which becomes a rockier as you go.  The second section is three and a half miles of very technical terrain, a lot of which is on completely exposed rock.  The third section is two and a half miles of pretty smooth running.

The Race

I started driving to Spicewood at 2pm and arrived about an hour early.  The pre-race atmosphere was festive with Grateful Dead playing, very welcome to this Deadhead.  Incidentally, there were a bunch of motivational posters along the course; three of these were quotes from Dead songs.
Here they are:
"Mama, mama many worlds I've crosses since I first left home." - "Brokedown Palace"
"What a long, strange trip it's been." - "Truckin'"
"Comes a time when the blind man takes your hand says, 'Don't you see?'" - "Comes a Time"
The Dead go quite well with ultrarunning.  These quotes definitely uplifted me!

Loop 1
The whole course is single-track, meaning anytime someone wanted to pass, someone had to step aside.  I tried start in the middle of the pack, but I was slower than I thought and a lot of people wanted by.  I tried to resist the urge to go out too fast, but at the same time I didn't want to be in everyone's way so I tried to keep moving moderately.

Loop 2
I had told myself beforehand to at least run the first two loops, as if worse comes to worse I'd get in an eighteen mile long run.  After that, I'd just run as long as possible and if necessary hike it in.  I made it to the second loop feeling well.  I ran alongside a runner named Jimmy through most of loops two and three and the conversation helped a lot.

Loop 3
All through loop three, I monitored my energy levels and legs, wanting to keep running but hold back something for the final loop.  By the time I passed twenty miles I had run farther than I had since January at Bandera, but I still felt okay.  My legs were starting to get beat up from the rocks but my energy was good.  So far I had only hiked the brief uphills.

Loop 4
Something happened in the final loop.  In the first four miles or so, the pain in my legs disappeared. My energy level went up,  I felt as though I was starting a jog on a Saturday morning, fresh and rested.  Wanting to make use of this, I ran relatively quickly, cruising through the smoother patches of single track.  I passed a few runners, which boosted my morale.

By the time I got to the rocky section in the middle of the loop, the miles started to catch up with me, but I knew now that I would finish in a decent time and resolved to run anything runnable and finish,

Here are my splits:

Lap 1 Gun Time	02:00:43
Lap 2 Gun Time	02:29:39
Lap 3 Gun Time	02:35:53
Lap 4 Gun Time	02:33:22
Overall Place	24
Division Place	5
Gender Place	20

I felt very happy with that last loop.

Additionally, when I've run through the night, either at the Capt'n Karls series or at 100 milers, I have always felt a wave of intense sleepiness and dizziness hit me.  This never came.  Perhaps because I was able to continue running, as the sleepiness usually arrived previously in long sections of hiking.

Reflections

As I ran towards the finish line, the emotion of this two-year journey hit me and I started to sprint.  It has been a long journey back, but with Muleshoe Bend I feel like some of the uncertainty and doubt has left me.  It's amazing how much running, or inability to run, can affect one's sense of well-being.  

I'm looking forward to two more training races at least, the Habernero 100k and the Rough Creek 40 miler before the true test in Arkansas in October.

Thanks so much to the race organization, volunteers, and my family for the support! 

2016 Muleshoe Bend 60k

The Background

The 2016 Muleshoe Bend 60k marked, I hope, the end of a long recovery process from injury. The last race I felt I ran truly well was the 2014 Cactus Rose 100 mile.  Injury at the 2015 Bandera 100k, which was a maddeningly persistent inflammation behind the left knee, took me out of running for nine months.  Though I was able to complete the Wild Hare 50k and Bandera 50k (a drop down from the 100k), these were more shuffling along and getting through the distance.  I never felt strong, never got into a rhythm training.  Between assorted other minor injuries and work demands, I felt like I was just faking it as far as running went.  Sure I'd get in a few runs a week, but I knew I wasn't anywhere close to the runner I was two years ago, physically or mentally. When I mentioned my past ultrarunning to others, I felt like a fraud or as if I was referring to some other person who no longer existed.

Desperate to break free from this dark period, I decided to focus on training for the Arkansas Traveller 100 Miler in October, using Capt'n Karl's Mule Shoe Bend 60k as the first training race to build up to the distance.  Though again my training was far from ideal, I did manage to get in a strong 70 mile week immediately prior to Muleshoe, complete with a trip with the family to Bandera for hill repeats.  I worried if one good week would be enough but I decided to go for it.

The Course

Muleshoe Bend is a deceptively tough course.  Without the extended climbs of races like Bandera or Rough Creek, nevertheless the rocky terrain beats up your legs.

The course consists of a nine mile loop, run four times for the 60k.  The first section the loop of about three miles features some up and down ridge running, which becomes a rockier as you go.  The second section is three and a half miles of very technical terrain, a lot of which is on completely exposed rock.  The third section is two and a half miles of pretty smooth running.

The Race

I started driving to Spicewood at 2pm and arrived about an hour early.  The pre-race atmosphere was festive with Grateful Dead playing, very welcome to this Deadhead.  Incidentally, there were a bunch of motivational posters along the course; three of these were quotes from Dead songs.
Here they are:
"Mama, mama many worlds I've crosses since I first left home" - "Brokedown Palace"
"What a long, strange trip it's been" - "Truckin'"
"Comes a time when the blind man takes your hand says, 'Don't you see?'" - "Comes a Time"
The Dead go quite well with ultrarunning.  These quotes definitely uplifted me!

Loop 1
The whole course is single-track, meaning anytime someone wanted to pass, someone had to step aside.  I tried start in the middle of the pack, but I was slower than I thought and a lot of people wanted by.  I tried to resist the urge to go out too fast, but at the same time I didn't want to be in everyone's way so I tried to keep moving moderately.

Loop 2
I had told myself beforehand to at least run the first two loops, as if worse comes to worse I'd get in an eighteen mile long run.  After that, I'd just run as long as possible and if necessary hike it in.  I made it to the second loop feeling well.  I ran alongside a runner named Jimmy through most of loops two and three and the conversation helped a lot.

Loop 3
All through loop three, I monitored my energy levels and legs, wanting to keep running but hold back something for the final loop.  By the time I passed twenty miles I had run farther than I had since January at Bandera, but I still felt okay.  My legs were starting to get beat up from the rocks but my energy was good.  So far I had only hiked the brief uphills.

Loop 4
Something happened in the final loop.  In the first four miles or so, the pain in my legs disappeared. My energy level went up,  I felt as though I was starting a jog on a Saturday morning, fresh and rested.  Wanting to make use of this, I ran relatively quickly, cruising through the smoother patches of single track.  I passed a few runners, which boosted my morale.

By the time I got to the rocky section in the middle of the loop, the miles started to catch up with me, but I knew now that I would finish in a decent time and resolved to run anything runnable and finish,

Here are my splits:

Lap 1 Gun Time	02:00:43
Lap 2 Gun Time	02:29:39
Lap 3 Gun Time	02:35:53
Lap 4 Gun Time	02:33:22
Overall Place	24
Division Place	5
Gender Place	20

I felt very happy with that last loop.

Additionally, when I've run through the night, either at the Capt'n Karls series or at 100 milers, I have always felt a wave of intense sleepiness and dizziness hit me.  This never came.  Perhaps because I was able to continue running, as the sleepiness usually arrived previously in long sections of hiking.

Reflections

As I ran towards the finish line, the emotion of this two-year journey hit me and I started to sprint.  It has been a long journey back, but with Muleshoe Bend I feel like some of the uncertainty and doubt has left me.  It's amazing how much running, or inability to run, can affect one's sense of well-being.  

I'm looking forward to two more training races at least, the Habernero 100k and the Rough Creek 40 miler before the true test in Arkansas in October.

Thanks so much to the race organization, volunteers, and my family for the support! 

Training Begins

So, training has officially begun for the Arkansas Traveller 100!


For the past few weeks I've been running six miles a day, pretty consistently.  Yesterday was day one of the twenty-four week plan.  Work was closed due to horrible floods in Houston, so I did ten miles in the morning.  Already ahead of schedule!


Onward!

Starting Over

So it has been over a year since my hamstring injury at the 2015 Bandera 100k.  After nine months out, my running has been limited and inconsistent.  I finished the Wild Hare and Bandera 50ks, not because I was trained but really just shuffling through them.  Work demands have kept my running schedule sporadic at best.   Plus I really just felt burnt out in general.

But I feel it is time for a change.  I want to get strong again.  The pain in my hamstring, right behind the knee, is still there at a low level.  A doctor said it is capsulitis, but I'm not sure anyone knows what it really is.  Regardless, I want to train.

So my plan is to begin regular running as of now, and build up to the Captain Karl's 60k series this summer.  If all goes well, I can use these as training races for Cactus Rose 100 in October.  If I fall again to injury, so be it.

We'll see what happens...

Wild Hare 50k

The Background

It's been quite awhile since I last posted, and a lot has happened.  2015 has been my toughest year as a runner, but thankfully has ended on an up note.

The troubles began at the 2015 Bandera 100k.  A cold, muddy and icy race, it was slip-sliding all the way.  By mile 48 I could no longer bend my left knee and had to drop.  I believe this injury was a combination of the rough conditions, years of over racing and not taking good enough care of myself.  When I was younger, I could eat junk, train a 100 miles a week, and race an ultra every month, but now entering the second half of my 30s gives me cause to reassess.

I was already signed up to race the Rocky Raccoon 100 Miler three weeks later .  I ran not a step between Bandera and Rocky, ran 40 miles on race day, then the hamstring forced me to drop.

What followed turned out to be months sidelined with flaring hamstring pain and physical therapy.
Pretty much every step walking hurt and the healing process seemed excruciatingly slow.

In March, the principal at the campus where I served as AP announced she was leaving.  I did not want to stay to see who would replace her next year, so I went looking for a job.  The stress of this time really illustrated how much I relied on running for peace.

By the end of July I'd found a job writing curriculum for HISD, and the day before I signed my contract my doctor cleared me to run again.

In the eight months of no running, I'd gained 15 pounds and fallen into an unhealthy diet.  It felt like my body was decomposing.  My first run, I could barely make it through a mike and a half.

I slowly upped my mileage and set my sights in the Rough Creek Half Marathon in September.  The 2012 Rough Creek 40 Miler had been my first ultra finish and I'd run the race every year since.  The 40 miler was out of the question, but I wanted to try the half as this would be the final running of Rough Creek.  I managed to finish in about three hours.

My new job kept me busy, so my plans of transitioning into ultra training fell by the wayside.  By November I felt I needed to shake things up.  I signed up for the Wild Hare 50k a week before the race, with no so much as a ten miler in the past two months.

The Race

Prerace

The Wild Hare 50k would consist of four 7.8 mile loops.  The first couple of miles is twisty, turny bike trails.  The conditions were muddy requiring wading through water up to your knees.  Then follows some roller coaster ridge running, before breaking through to open fields.

The first loop was uneventful; I felt happy to be back in an ultra and was taking the pace easy.  In the second loop I slowed considerably.  Often on runs I'll sort out work problems in my head, but for the first time in a race I fell deeply into thought about a project.  Thankfully, this slowed my pace and left me something for the finish.

By the third loop, my legs were pretty sore.  I'd run the race well but I could feel the lack of long training runs.  I went into a mini low point but nothing major.

Beginning the fourth loop, a runner said hello to me and soon we fell into conversation, using talk to escape the mind games that can plague the final miles of a race.  We separated a few miles before the finish but by that time I was just excited about the prospect of completing an ultra after a season of injury.

Crossing the finish line was emotional for me.  After months of pain, frustration, and depression, I was an ultra runner again.


Reflections


This year taught me how much I'd taken running for granted.  I need to take a healthy dose of moderation in my running from here on out, as I'd rather race less than face injury again.  On the other hand, this year taught me that I'm not the invincible runner I thought I was, and injury needs to be taken with stoicism.  It will come again and needs to be thought of as part of the process of a running life.

Nevertheless,  I'm thrilled to be running again.  I'm not 100% and the hamstring still is inflamed at times.  But I've learned to think of what running I can manage as a gift and I'm thankful.