Just Another Day in Studville...

Vermont 50 Mile Race Report 2009 Mud Brothers

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he to-day that stomps in Mud with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so clean,

This day shall gentle his condition;

And athletes in New England now-a-bed

Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That ran and biked with us upon Mt. Ascutney this day.

Despite the written warnings and advice to hang it up, I remained committed to starting and finishing this race. My family Stayed at at the Burton Family lodge, a nice bed and breakfast that was conveniently located 4 miles uphill from the race start. After a somewhat fitful night of sleep I woke up before my alarm at 4:00 AM., packed up and headed out the door of the Burton Family lodge...into the pouring rain. Got on Peggy's old mountain bike. Note that the grips have been removed, and given the fact that I have almost never ridden at night, and have not really touched a bike in a year or so. I was rather concerned for my safety. I decided to "exercise" the demons out of my DNF New Haven Road Race Shirt, by wearing the shirt for this race. Some might have thought that was just bad karma to wear a tainted garment, but I had sacrificed my NH race for this day, so I thought it only fitting to purify the jersey in this way.
I arrived at the base lodge of Mt. Ascutney rather wet and with strange fatigue from my ride to the start. I was also soaked and kinda cold. I sat around a bit nervously waiting for the start, and talked with a few others there, but was kind of tense. I felt much better after I stripped down to my short shorts and jersey, and donned my trusty muddy gators. Although it was raining and windy, the thermometer said 50. I always trust the thermometer, so I sneered at the masses with their multiple layers, jackets, and gained a bit of confidence. We lined up out side and headed out the entrance and logged a nice easy downhill mile at 8:22. Rain was steady, and everyone was really chatty. The 600 mountain bikers had headed out 15 min before us so we just followed their tracks as we ran along a stone dust road. We then hooked a left turn onto our first trail. The ground at this point was all torn up. It was like running in a freshly roto-tilled garden. The bikes tore it up, and we patted it back down. Knee was a little tight at this time, but I just kept a really easy pace walking anything that resembled a hill. Goal was to finish, and I could tell early on that it was going to take a lot. After around 5 miles we caught our first mountain bikers. They were worthy prey. Their tires were completely caked up till the wheels would not spin, and their gears were jambed with huge globs of gunk. Not only could they not easily pedal through the mud, but they had to perfectly balance their weight to keep any traction, then drag their bikes up hill. The hills were towering and relentless. I got in the positive zone and started hammering the downhills and whooping at the end in celebration of survival. The ground was spongy and I just flew. I did take one minor spill as I went down quickly as I stopped short. I took the muddy hand and impressed a brown warpaint symbol of resolve over my heart.
As we went on at about 15 miles or so, the rain picked up and the trails got a lot worse. Instead of a garden type of soil the trail turned to a liquid goo. Getting up the trails was now a matter of hiking up the sides of the trails wherever possible, and using the trail-side trees. At around mile 20 I started running with this guy Dan, from the Navy. It was his first 50 also. He was faster up hills, I was faster down, so we started motivating each other. From my training, I was not intimidated by anything under 35 miles, so making it to the 50K point was key. Then we just went station to station. But the trail got even sicker as there were huge falls off of the narrow trail. We reached a point where event the flat section of the trail was not runnable. When it was at it's worst  I was using more of a XC ski stride. Goal was to finish. If I was dead I could not finish. To keep positive I started taunting the course, looking for even worse conditions. The course did not disappoint and I took another minor spill. At around mile 40 or so, time began to stand still. There were several miles that seemed to go on forever. The only real pain was in my hips from all of the sliding. We came out of the trail and hit a gravel road, and a guy with a big pack passed us. I was really hurting at the time, but this really got me focused, and I smoothed my breathing, and got back on track, and re-passed. From about 30 miles on we were only passed by two people, and were able to hold somewhat steady. As we exited a field and hit the final ski slope, I slipped off the trail and rolled twice. Since it did not hurt it was rather funny, Dan waited as I scraped myself up and headed for the finish. Peg called out as I traversed the slope, and It was all over. Mission accomplished.   This race has redefined my concept of distance running. I am certain now that I can go longer, and that I can go faster. 

The trail held me with her vampire like trance and seduced me, till I had no choice but to blissfully and completely surrender to her beauty, even as she sought to destroy me.   Late at night, my heart beats strong with her blood in my veins.  Even now I await her tapping at my window beckoning me to again take it the edge. When she calls, I will not deny her.

 

Horse Sense

11:00 AM  In preperation for The Bluff 50K, I went for an awesome three hour run in the Meshomasic forest toady. Exploring dry stream beds and various trails. Ran quite a bit on the Shenipsit blue blaze trail also, and followed it out to route 2 and back. Only twisted ankle 1 time. Did not have GPS so the distance is estimated, but I was able to get going on some of the flatter areas. All of this running in the forest is allowing me to get to know it a bit better.  But to make sure I don't get to lost, I always draw arrows on the trails pointing the way home. This trail running stuff is awesome. In addition to training my legs to run up hills, I feel like I am programming my brain to handle the rough terrain. It reminds me of mountain biking or mogul skiing, as it is important to pick your fall line. I am noticing that I am getting better at it. The brain is an amazing thing. After I get warmed up, it seems that I just focus 15 feet ahead and my brain figures out where to step without me having to look down anymore for foot placement. Kind of like a horse does, except they have to deal with placing 4 feet on the ground. I guess horses are pretty smart in that way.

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Black Dog Fight

Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove. Bang we are off. Not too fast too soon. Round the school, already going down the hill. Stay in control, not too fast. All right this is just too damn slow. Gonna start the game early. ONE. 5:46 Run the last part hard and make him work. Hang it out. Don’t take water at first, it is a sign of weakness, surge every down hill you can. Why am I passing Orange at this point,  This is too much. TWO 6:05. Hang behind Orange. Is Doom stalking me? Or is he being drawn out? Up ahead J-Dog runs strong, all is well. Home turf. Run down fast. This is great. THREE 6:15 ? Turn Around. Rhythm flows. The forests echo with laughter. More surges, still, footsteps behind me. The apples turn to brown and black. Faster still, no more footsteps. FOUR. Why the heck was I working so hard so far from home? To make him work. He hurts as bad as I do. Maybe even worse. Gonna make you burn, gonna make you sting. Much harder now, red alert, system warning, J-Dog down ahead? Orange moved on, stuck in no man’s land between Orange and Doom. Footsteps of Doom on my back, surge, cramp, latch on, hang on, keep on. Stay with him and bide time. FIVE. 0:00? Losing power, losing touch. Doom has triumphed. All is lost today. Where am I? Can I come back. How far? Bogged down no fuel. Make the assault. Wiped out and exposed as an easy target. Attacked and, completely defenseless, got rolled and rolled. Rally now! It is painless, and meaningless for I stopped feeling at mile five, when my blood dried up and my brain shut down. The pain of war cannot exceed the woe of aftermath, The drums will shake the castle wall, the ringwraiths ride in black, five more trample me. Ride on. SIX. Harvest myself over the line. I was running well in the valley, could almost taste the celebration. Now my pale gray carcass is being dragged to a shady bench. The pictures I viewed are not me nor do I remember them, however I was there. I was, because pictures don’t lie or do they?

Reflect, recover, rebuild.

Mind Over Matter: Applying Dissociation to Running

I stumbled across this fascinating New York Times article this morning.  It's a quick read on the dramatic effect that the mind has on one's athletic performance.  There's clearly a physiological aspect to distance running, but the psychological factor can be huge.  How many times have you finished a race and realized that you probably could have pushed yourself harder, thereby ending up with a faster time?  But what happened?  Your mind got in the way.  This happens to me in just about every race these days. 

Anyway, this article discusses the benefits of mentally removing yourself from the running effort.  In other words, focusing on something else...your shadow, a distant mountaintop, counting each step you take, etc.  This approach apparently worked for Tibetan monks, who reportedly ran 300 miles in 30 hours (umm...that's an average pace of 6:00.  Eek!).  Maybe focusing on using the mind to improve my running performance should go on the list of resolutions for '08.