Chuckanut 50K - Bellingham, WA - 3/17/19

2019 Chuckanut 50K

Time: 4:20:59
Place: 13th
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I had high hopes for my second running of this race. As I wrapped up my time in Bellingham and that chapter came to a close, I pegged ever-higher hopes on a having a big day with a fast time to close things out in a celebratory fashion. With the way things in my life had been going, part of me wanted to go out with a figurative middle finger held high, and making a big statement at this storied local icon of a race was the best way to do that, and extract some vindication and closure for myself from the town I had called home for the last 16 months.

Unfortunately, winter refused to quit this year and nature had other plans. A couple weeks out from race day the forecast was looking chancy, and the Chuckanuts received snow a few times in early March, on top of what was already on the ground. I had done some long runs in said snow, so knew what to expect and had practiced wearing my new Kahtoolas, but I was still crestfallen that top-tier course conditions were no longer on the table. The race was actually relatively nice and the course was dry and in great shape everywhere there wasn't snow. The white stuff showed up on the latter 2/3rds of Cleator Road, a smidge on the ridge, virtually the entire Lost Lake Trail, Cleator Road again (of course), and the top of Fragrance Lake Road before hopping back on the Fragrance Lake Trail for the final descent.

Race Plan: Currently, I run almost exclusively in the Altra Solstice, a road shoe with no traction to speak of. It performs fine in all dry conditions for me, but is awful in mud and slushy snow. I had been curious about the Altra Superior 4.0, but didn't feel like buying a whole new shoe and busting it out for race day. In retrospect, that might've actually been the move, but I opted instead to pick up my Kahtoola Microspikes from my mother at aid station 1, along with a handheld bottle of Tailwind, and hold them both. My plan was to stop and quickly throw on the Microspikes whenever I encountered snow, and peel them off when I left a snowy area. From my knowledge of the course conditions, thanks to Krissy's well-documented Instagram stories, I figured this would take place about 3 times. Can't afford not to stop for a couple minutes total in exchange for great traction and a consistent pace, I thought! That one bottle, plus a top-off of water at the North Lost Lake aid station and a couple gels got me through the middle 18 miles, where I picked up a smaller handheld and one open gel for the last 10K.

Start to aid station 1 [6.5 miles]
We got a great parking spot close to the start, oddly deserted save for a few savvy elites. I rocked out to some tunes in the car while the rest of my party went on to Fairhaven Park. I don't do much before an ultra-distance race, aside from put on my kit, go to the bathroom, and some drills/strides/light jogging. With time to kill I just made sure I was warm and walked around. Fortunately I had the foresight to enter the Porta Potty before I really needed or wanted to because it took probably 15 minutes. I chatted with some strangers and friends, then squeezed myself into the human mass near the front by the line. There's a countdown from ten, and we're off. Being much better trained this year, I was prepared to and comfortable going out faster, in around 6:30 pace. Much less traffic this time. I felt excitement, but also a relief of pre-race anxiety. There were some friendly check-ins with familiar faces, but I mostly kept to myself. Just before AS 1, I could see the front of the race running back towards me and peeling off onto Fragrance Lake Trail, a 2 mile singletrack climb up to a small lake, which was still mostly frozen. When I lived in Edgemoor last summer, I loved nothing more than running up here, jumping in for a quick dip, and heading back home. 14 miles. I had been running with Sarah Bard, and later Ashley Hawks for the last mile or so, but lost a few places when I stopped to slam a gel and grab my first bottle and spikes. Only a few seconds probably, but I hustled to make the ground back up on the last bit of flat ground for awhile.

AS 1 to AS 2 [Miles 6.5-11.2]
No sooner had I left the crowds and cheering of the aid station behind, I noted a slight sense of foreboding that I didn't like carrying two things in my hands, and that this was going to be less fun than I'd hoped. The Microspikes felt a bit heavy and burdensome after about a minute, but it was too late now. I'm a decent climber so I plugged away on the ascent up to Fragrance Lake, making up a few places but trying not to push the pace like last year. After the lake section and once onto Two Dollar Trail, the tenth mile is a net downhill, albeit with some short upward humps. The first cracks started to show here, when I realized I didn't have another gear, and the guy behind me was gleefully chomping at the bit to clomp down the trail with abandon. That's a grim prospect 1/3 of the way through the race. Begrudgingly I let him go for now, wondering why it felt like my wheels weren't attached very firmly. I wasn't enjoying having my hands full, and even this early I think I realized that I was discouraged from taking in calories soon enough by the cumbersomeness of the task. Mile eleven sees you the rest of the way down the trail and then intersects with Cleator Road, a steady 1.9 mile climb up a well-maintained, unpaved service road up the mountain. The second aid station is normally at this intersection, but had been moved almost a half mile up, right about where the snow started, presumably to account for other aid stations shifting as well.

AS 2 to AS 3 [Miles 11.2-16.5]
Moseying right along past this one, the snow started to be a factor. There was a strip of bare ground on the side of the road that I and other runners were utilizing but it quickly dissipated and we were left to slog through the dry slush. Here is where I put on my Microspikes, the first and only time, but they didn't do much good as the snow was old, and had lost all its crystalline texture and much of its moisture. Every step, regardless of shoe, lugs, or traction device apparently, caused the snow to yield and a resultant backslide of the foot. My technique was to try and plant firmly, and lift up a bit more rather than a pure push-off. This is obviously inefficient but we all had to work with it. Picking my way through barely-there tire ruts, shoe prints, and dog tracks, I ground my way up to the top. Normally the 3rd aid station is at the summit of this climb, supporting runners and directing them to the left turn onto the ridge. This time there was only one person indicating the turn. I don't recall needing anything, but it was strange and  unexpected, like #2 had been. Someone else was behind me now, and the scarcity of snow and ice on this trail necessitated a quick pull-over to remove the Microspikes. I did this, and spent an inordinate amount of time fiddling with them, trying to get them back in their pouch. This is my least favorite part of the course, due to the technicality. With two free hands, it would have been a different story, but I had zero. I was grateful to have some guys to work with, but definitely wasn't feeling stellar and also lost a couple guys here that I hoped to reel back in later, and never did. Finally I recognized the final dip marking the end of the trail and was dumped out onto the North Lost Lake Trail, and immediately into the (St. Patricky) arms of aid station 3!

AS 3 to AS 4 [Miles 16.6-21]
A volunteer dumped some sort of fluid into my handheld here, I probably grabbed a GU or two (who knows?), and was on my way. I noticed David Laney, who hadn't started the race but definitely would have been at or near the front. Not sure why he didn't run, but it was cool to see him involved regardless. The snow was deeper here, and the trail rolls a good bit, so the going wasn't much faster than Cleator Rd, or didn't feel like it at least. I simply tried to run at a decent clip and not waste too much energy backsliding in the snow. For the rest of the race, I never put the Microspikes back on. I'm not sure how much it would have helped, but for whatever reason I kind of had a mental block to it. I just wanted to get it over with, and I'll never take conditions like last year's for granted (tore my shirt off at the first aid station). During this section (~miles 18 and 19), I moved away from the few guys I had been running with, and passed the polite and pleasant Ben Robinson I'd met the night before, wearing Normatecs at packet pickup. He probably wasn't having the best day, but he had a smile on nevertheless. After a relatively level section, there is a pretty significant climb. This is about the time I stopped having as much fun. Thoughts of dropping out definitely crossed my mind, although with less persuasion than crawling up Chinscraper. I was passed here by Tyler Cox, who I hadn't seen yet during the whole race but who was obviously having a good day, which was a bit of a blow to my already sinking hopes of a top-10 or near-to-it finish. Anyway, I plugged away at the rest of the climb until rounding the corner, at which point the rest of the South Lost Lake Trail is a descent until aid station 4 and the final big climb.

AS 4 to AS 5 [Miles 21-25.2]
Chinscraper is a steep trail that I've only run twice, this year during the race and last year. It's really steep and comes late in the race when you're itching to pour on some speed, but can't yet. That's not to say it can't be run well; people certainly do, I just haven't yet. Almost everyone does some hiking here; it's just so steep. I was feeling pretty forlorn until I caught up to my buddy Andrew Wise who suspected we were somewhere near 15th place, which came as a nice surprise. All no longer felt for naught, although I was already feeling a bit bummed about not running a fast time like I had trained so hard for, before the day had even concluded. There was still racing to be done! At the top of the climb, you pop out at the Cyrus Gates Overlook, a gorgeous sight to behold on a clear day, just all water and islands and such. Unfortunately, the snow was deepest up here and I had a heck of a time running in it. Although I don't remember the exact failure mode, it took me 9:38 to run a mile that lost 408 feet, so something definitely wasn't right. The next wasn't a far sight better, 7:59 while netting 530' in elevation loss. I fared better once out of the white stuff for good, hurtling down the twisty Fragrance Lake Trail down to aid station 5, the same way I'd gone up.

AS 5 to Finish [Miles 25.2-31.1]
Sweet baby Jesus did it feel good to drop those stupid Microspikes! I grabbed a small 12oz bottle of Tailwind and an open GU from my crew and took off like a bat out of hell, as excited to finally be let loose and run fast as I was to be almost done. At this point, you can almost taste the beer and finish line chow. (Oreos, chips, and black bean burger with avocado in my case.) Moments before at the last station I had been informed of my place, and I caught a guy after a mile or two, and held on for dear life, running practically the same pace for the final 10k as the year prior. There isn't too much more to say here, except I think I was holding together pretty well, all things considered, and was grateful to be in a pretty good finishing position. For all the miles I've run on the Interurban Trail, it never quite got old. One runs largely alone here as the field is so strung out, maybe running someone down, or trying to fend off a closing competitor. Even though you're running out of your mind, there is time and space to be contemplative. What really matters? What is it all for? The finish of the course was ever so slightly different, snaking into Fairhaven Park the back way through the Lake Padden Apartments. I didn't know exactly how much of a hump I'd have to run up in the last few hundred meters before the line, but thankfully it amounted to almost nothing. The rest of the day was filled with beer, food, friends, family, lovely weather and all in all it was the perfect send-off and goodbye to a place that will always be one of my many, many homes.

Big Island International Marathon - Hilo, HI - 3/20/16

Race information

• What? Big Island International Marathon (Hilo Marathon)
• When? March 20, 2016
• How far? 26.2 miles
  

Goals

Goal	Description	Completed?
A	Finish	Yes
B	sub-3:30	Yes
C	sub-3:20	Yes

Here is the Strava data for splits
Ok, this is gonna be long...never done this before and I guess I got carried away. Skip to Mile 1 if you just want the race.

Background/Training

I'm a 28 year old male. In high school I ran a 17:07 5k/~10:10 3200m, and threw down a 16:40 on the track my first year of college before I gradually stopped training. I might've run faster but I had an addiction to staying up real late and eating cereal, and semi-chronic knee pain. In the last ten years, I have continued to run very inconsistently in a recreational capacity, but have always stayed pretty fit. In the last three years, I have been running a little bit more and done a handful of races. Last May, I surprised myself, running a 1:27 half after only a month of training and no real base at all. The last, and first, marathon I ran was a little over two years ago, done in 3:51. I didn't train very much or very seriously for it, but I was excited to do it. After the first 8 miles, I took off my huaraches and ran the rest barefoot. Barely ate any breakfast and didn't take in any calories aside from some gatorade on the course, but I was stoked to finish and to go under 4 hours, in spite of not really knowing what I was doing. This time, I decided to prepare much better. I got a GPS watch and began running a 1.3 mile loop in my 'hood every day, to start. I could definitely do more, but I knew I needed to do this in a very methodical way to teach myself discipline, restraint, and consistency. In the past, I have wanted to run farther and faster in a single run than I really have the conditioning for, because that's what I did in my "glory days" of competitive HS and a bit of collegiate running. As a result, my running was really inconsistent and often some minor pain or ache would flair up and I would lose the desire to run because I thought I was hurting myself. Anyway, the plan worked as I put in weeks of 14, 8, 15, 21, 25, 19, 27, 35, 38, 34, and 38 miles. I didn't do any real workouts, never actually hit 40 miles in a week, and my longest run was 12.1 miles. Most of the volume was done around 8:15 pace; some faster, some slower. There are not a ton of other runners in the area, but some, and I befriended them and we started running together on the course whenever I came in to town.

Getting in some last minute rolling the morning of.

Race strategy

With barely any race experience at this distance, and not much training under my belt (some would probably call it threadbare), I just wanted to run a comfortable-ish race at relatively even splits and have a good time. I was pretty confident I would better my previous time, but the rest was somewhat of a mystery. The course has ~1100' of elevation gain, almost all in the first half. My plan was to go out at 8:00/mi pace, or a tad faster if feeling good, until mile 16, when the course flattens out and pretty much stays that way. Then, if possible, I would drop the pace and adjust as needed.

Pre-race

Race start time was 6am Sunday, so I drove to town midday Saturday, took care of some biz and met up with a friend, also racing the next day, and then we went to crash at the house of some friends of his. I picked up my packet and met up with friend J first, chuckling at the diminutive size of the small "expo," in a small downstairs conference room of a hotel near the start/finish. I bought a caffeinated GU, and we threw his bike in my truck and went downtown. I took care of a few errands, and at the farmer's market we grabbed a few ingredients to make dinner for said friends who were putting us up in their basement that night. We drove over to friend M's house, also racing tomorrow, and chatted for awhile, sharing some bananas I grew at home and talking about the race. We were all excited for it to be underway. Got in the truck for another mile and arrived at our accommodations for the night. After getting all my stuff from the truck, I sat on the couch and chilled while J puttered around the kitchen, then we both got on reddit. I did a little foam rolling and stretching, made a banana smoothie, and spent about an hour looking for my car keys, which was a little stressful. Most of that time I spent out in the rain, digging through the truck. It had been either raining or drizzling all day, and looking like it would continue into tomorrow. Fortunately that's not an issue in the tropics. J finished dinner, steamed sweet potatoes, millet, and veggie marinara, and we ate with the roomies and played Settlers of Cattan. Then off to bed around 9, listening to music on my headphones till almost 10. J and I both wake up before our 5 o'clock alarms naturally, about 15 minutes earlier. I eat my caffeinated GU immediately and some water. I don't drink coffee or consume caffeine usually so I was planning on this giving me a boost of energy and a laxative effect. Worked like a charm. Drank about a pint of homegrown banana smoothie and visited the bathroom twice to great success, and we were out the door and on our way. After a 10 minute drive in the rain, we park, visit the park bathroom, job a bit then strip down to just our shorts. The sun hadn't come up yet, but it wasn't really cold. I stepped in a puddle, twice, soaking my shoe, but it ended up not being an issue. I didn't even wear socks and never had a chafing problem, miraculously. There was a big bunch of people milling around the start, and a local radio DJ making periodic announcements on the PA. Apparently, due to a rare north swell, high surf had made it past the breakwall and caused closure of the road we were to use for the first mile. Nothing could be done so they had to route us around it, but fortunately it ended up only adding about .17 miles, since we ran it twice. The start was pushed back a few minutes, and in the meantime I chatted to some of the folks around me. Lots of Japanese runners, and a few visitors from the west coast. Then, right next to me I noticed a very accomplished and even mildly famous runner. Some friends of mine are friends of his, and had told me he'd be there, hopping over from another island. I introduced myself and we struck up a conversation. I told him I had him pegged for the win, and he laughed, saying he's not been running at all, and only ran twice the week prior in preparation. This was to be his shake-off-the-dust race before Boston. Finally it was time to start, right as the sky was starting to lighten up, and the DJ counted down from 10. Bang! A hundred shrill digital beeps momentarily filled the air, and we were off.

Miles [1] through [8]

The first mile took us out of the parking lot start/finish area, onto a sidewalk just one soccer field-width away from the road we were supposed to be on, and parallel to it. I went out super easy, letting people, including M and J, stream past me, and immediately my friend from the start line and I got chummy and were chatting up a storm. We breezed past downtown, went through the first mile, and back onto the highway for the first out and back section. My watched beeped off a 7:29, which surprised me, since I felt very good and controlled, so I went with it. In the back of my mind, I thought I might be rolling the dice, but put that thought aside. My new friend, whom I'll call F, was carrying like 6 gels which made me laugh, but it ended up being my saving grace. It turns out we have a lot of mutual friends and common interests, so we talked easily and copiously through the first few miles (really the whole first 20). The leaders started to come through having already hit the turnaround. 1st was on 2:30ish pace. I saw M in about 5th, and J not too far behind. We passed some people, and had two other guys trading places with us for awhile, keeping an even 7:40 pace on the watch the whole time. Towards the end of mile 8, we hit the 1st turnaround, stomped on the mat and started making our way south back towards the start/finish.

Miles [9] to [16]

Not long after the turnaround, a woman coming the other way called out "9, 10, 11, 12!" We were pretty spread out over the course already, but it felt exciting to be in the top of the standings. Around 60 minutes in, F gives me one of his gels, which I gratefully down. I didn't bring any, expecting them to be every ~3rd mile as the website had indicated, but actually didn't see any until mile 22! Still not sure what was up with that.. maybe I had to ask. Up till now I'd been drinking water or Gatorade at most aid stations, but not all. It was raining lightly most of the time and I was cool and comfortable; number pinned to my shorts, no shirt, and although my shoes were wet, my feet were happy. F and I keep chatting away excitedly, eventually pulling away from 11 and 12 after a little banter. There are some hills here but we are cruising. The course takes us back onto the highway right before mile 13. From here it's a long slow descent back into town, and we're passing tons of half marathoners, and we only had the shoulder to work with. By the tail end of mile 15, we are back on the flats for good. F expresses gratitude that we ended up running together, because he would've gone out way too hard and destroyed himself since he's ultra-competitive and hadn't raced in awhile. We both felt solid and were set to run a sensible negative split race. Starting at the halfway mark with the long downhill, the average pace on my watch slower started ticking down into the high 7:30s. Mile 16 took us over the start line and out due east onto the second leg of the course. There were people milling about and cheering, but I didn't really take notice.

Miles [17] to [21]

Mile 17 winds around a park and golf course, and at about this time the sun starts threatening to break through. F and I pass a tiny kid running the half, looks like he's 9, and shout encouragement at him. F sees his wife coming towards us on the home stretch of the half, and shouts her name a few times until she sees us. The guy is totally electric, a stoke machine. Mile 18 is kind of a shitty industrial area with a couple car dealerships, lots of puddles, and barely any real estate to run on that's not in the actual lane of traffic. This was a tiny race, with 221 full marathoners entered, and as a small town affair there weren't any road closures in this area. Somewhere around here F offers me another gel, which I humbly accept. At this point I'm having a blast; this guy totally made my day, setting a good pace, yet I knew crunch time was coming soon. Miles 19, 20, and 21 fly by in 7:12, 7:01, and 7:06. Average pace has probably dropped below 7:30 now. The leaders go by on the other side of the street, and later I see M looking strong and placed high. It felt like we were flying, and the sun was rising directly in front of us, creating a blinding glare of the wet road. After a tiny dogleg at the end of mile 19, we catch a Japanese woman who's been running alone and pass her. The back of her legs have about 10 bottle cap-sized dots on them, stickers or temporary tattoos. We congratulate and encourage her as we go by, and F asks her about them, but I didn't catch the answer and wasn't too interested; what had been up till now a conversational pace was becoming a bit more forced, but I was still feeling strong. The turnaround is at the very end of the paved road, and there was an aid station and a timing mat. I snag a gatorade and keep hustling.

Miles [22] to [26.2]

A minute or two after the turnaround, the course swerves us onto a quiet narrow side street that's a block in from the main road we had just been on. It's nice back here, but we're definitely in the final 10k and I'm starting to learn what that's all about. F is a few paces ahead of me, and starts telling me all kinds of stuff, about how I gotta consciously breathe harder, force air in, pump my arms, focus on stride, and pack in more gel if I can stomach it. At this point in the race, I'm looking at my watch to check the distance very frequently. The fact that the watch splits and the physical mile markers didn't match up had been mildly annoying the whole time, but now, I couldn't stop myself from adding .2 in my head to whatever number I was seeing and subtracting that from 26.2, and then telling myself I only had that distance left to run. Multiply that by 3-5 times per mile and it was maddening. Mile 23 shunted us back onto the main drag, and F was maybe 10m ahead now. He said something about running on a slant and hopped up on the sidewalk. The sun is higher and it's starting to get warm, and of course it's as humid as a greenhouse. The next mile is more of the same, except at some point F drifted back near me and was harping on me, calling out tips over his shoulder, in some archetypal mashup of dad, coach, and best friend. He was trying to get me to catch a guy in a blue shirt up ahead, but I was just hanging on at this point. The beginning of mile 25 had an aid station, and in my fatigued state, I failed to grab a cup because F also took some and I was too out of it to react. He put a cup in my hand and told me to go on and pushed me ahead. A few moments later, I hear him come up behind me and pour a cup of water on my head. It's awesome. He's grabbed a GU too. At this point I've had about 3 of his, but this one I don't really want. My stomach feels kind of numb and sidestitchy, but in a very vague way. It's hard to explain. Like eating that last cookie in the package when you already feel full and gross, I tear off the top with my teeth and have a gulp. Raspberry. It's awful. A half mile later and I drop it; just holding it nauseates me. Mile 25 is a three block detour to the south, towards the airport, then back on the main drag. F is haranguing me to catch Mr. Blue Shirt. I kind of hated it, but it also helped because I was fading and just wanted it all to be over. Plus I think he was getting a kick out of it. Back on the main road I can see J up ahead, appearing to walk and has his hands on his head. This somehow delights F but I don't have another gear. My vision is weird and fuzzy now, in addition to the fatigue. I'm in sort of new territory here. Everything hurts, but mildly. My lungs aren't burning like the end of a 5k, and my legs aren't totally shot like the end of a cruelly hilly trail race, but they're definitely heavy. Mile 26 is almost the same as 17, ringing the park, but now there's more people coming towards me, but I don't really take note. It feels like F is towing me. A barefoot runner with an epic beard recognizes F and hands him a banana. They get a kick out of it, while J and I share a more somber moment as I pass him. I put my hand on his shoulder as I go by, and he turns to me with an expression of pain, almost horror. Outside of the drama of the moment, it would almost have been funny. Last year he dropped out at mile 20, and says that the same thing is going on with his foot. I think the earlier pace has also caught up to him. The last .2 is at the top of a bridge, then it's a right turn and the finish is right there. I don't remember much, just running to the finish and seeing those red number on the clock. At some point F falls behind me, I suppose to shout encouragement and get me across the line; he could have been long gone hours ago, so he didn't care about place. I was his apprentice for the day, and he the master. Suddenly I'm over the line and it's all over. 3:17. Someone puts a medal around my neck and I struggle to stay standing. M was there to congratulate me, I think, and F. I sort of stagger around for awhile, then walk off to my truck.

Post-race

I was almost startled to find that walking around right after crossing the line was quite uncomfortable. I crouched a bit, but didn't sit down. I retrieved my sandals from the truck and grabbed a shirt and drink of water, and walked back to the line. Ease of mobility returns but I am of course sore and very tired. J is there, having finished a minute behind me. I track down F and his wife, he kick it for a minute and take a picture then they go to shower up. J, M, and I drive to a cafe for a bite, then come back for the awards, but before that we have to wait around for awhile. The food tent was giving out free Michelob Ultras, so I drank a few to rehydrate (ha) and sent out a few texts while sitting next to J. I placed 8th overall, and 1st in my age group, because the overall top 3 are discounted, and got a little acrylic square and a $15 candy store gift card to commemorate. I didn't find out until I got home that night and plugged in my watch, but I was pleased to see that while I was fading hard, I still kept the last three miles at sub-8 pace; mile 4 was actually the slowest at 8:00, going up a hill. M was non-stop chit chatting, but I was feeling ready to go so I drove J home then grabbed a burrito. The rest of the day I was floating on a cloud; I was extremely pleased with the effort given my very laid-back training and also having sparked such a great connection with F. At home that night, I was still feeling all the caffeine I'd eaten in the form of gels, and was up until 2:30 browsing for a summer marathon.

What's next?

I'm registered for a trail 50k in one month, with something like 4-5k elevation. That will be just for fun mostly, learning the distance. My plan for the rest of the spring and summer is to get up to 60-70mpw and just hold there, throwing in some MP and HMP stuff and mile and K repeats eventually, and find a cool race to go sub-3 in August ideally. I am very excited! Thanks for reading!