Tracking Progress, Barefoot Running, and a Bucket List

The achilles heel is still recovering, and it's taking time. I got through a 3.5 miler over the weekend, and today the plan was to do 4. But when I got to the gym I realized that i didn't have my running shoes. I did have my Vibram Five Fingers though, so I decided I try a short run on the treadmill with those.
This would be my first barefoot mileage, and I was interested in how it would go. It turned out to be pretty easy actually. My feet were perfectly comfortable, and I didn't notice a huge difference in my stride either. I put in 1 mile at a slow pace (9 min) and then shut it down.
It's now 4 hours later, and I can feel the effects of the run. My feet are starting to get sore, and I suspect they'll be more sore tomorrow. It's an exciting feeling though, as if I've discovered a new workout, a new way to strengthen and tax my running muscles, and I hope to lengthen the barefoot efforts over the next few weeks.
I'm in a huge motivational rut right now, and one of the ways I'll start getting out of it is creating my bucket list. What are the events I want to compete in, the things I want to accomplish and the experiences I want to have. I'm looking forward to creating and thinking about the list, and hoping that it will push me to explore some new territories.

Recovery

I have what seems like a minor injury in my achilles on the left side, but it has kept me from any decent running for over two weeks now. Hoping to get some resolution soon, I'll try to go 3 miles today, and hopefully 4 on the weekend.

Crashes, Injuries, and a Re-Introduction

Dear readers - are there any left? When you don't write, who'd bother reading? My achilles has been hurting lately, - no running really possible - so this weekend was to be my "triumphant"(?) return to the bike. I had done rides the past two weekends. A 50 miler to Uvas and back, and then a wind-whipped mountain bike ride up over Los Gatos and Sierra Azul (nothing like getting pushed uphill by the "breeze"). So I felt pretty good about jumping into the 60+ mile Tierra Bella, riding with my lovely wife and her friends for awhile, and then sending them off to complete their century. Unfortunately it didn't play out as planned. Mile 1, we shove off with myself and about 5 of justine's friends from her riding group. mile 2.5, heading down an easy slope. It's early, we're cruising along single file down a moderate grade - waking up. I'm riding point, see a crack a little late, point it out but hear some commotion and look back to see a crash taking place behind me. two of the women are falling, one hits the road head first, another, Justine's friend Chris, is falling as well. Shit! We stop, nancy is literally laying on the ground, not moving, starting straight up at the sky. Chris is sitting holding her shoulder, looking pale as a ghost. Fuck, are they okay? just a month after our friend Gayle broke her neck, this is a little too much.
Slowly, Nancy shakes it off and sits up. I'm worried for her, but this is a big relief knowing she's mobile and going to be OK. she'll need a new helmet, but otherwise OK. Chris is in a lot of pain with her shoulder. I assume it's a broken collar bone but eventually I learn from the paramedics (and later get the confirm from Chris) that nothing's broken. A bit of relief but a lot of sadness for the ladies, after going through this a month ago, and with falls being really pretty rare, it's traumatizing for everyone to have this happen again. Justine's Death Ride Group is in a bit of chaos right now too, and we hope that the ladies get their health back (a) and can resume training (b).
Justine cuts her ride short to go with chris. We have separate cars, and as unchivalrous as it sounds I do the 60(+) miler. The legs feel good, the route is very nice, but it was impossible to shake off the crash.
Ride safe! If you're riding point, don't relax, point out everything!

Stats for 2010

over 50 miles so far this month, and running comfortably again after a month or so lay-off to deal with my back. the goal is to ramp up for Eugene Marathon in May.

Broke

With a week to go before CIM, I broke myself playing with the kids on a trampoline over thanksgiving. As such, the racing year ended with kind of a thud rather than a bang. I haven't quite wrapped my head around my feelings about this: I was entering CIM with a lot of ambivalence, knowing that I wasn't as fit as I could be to do the race. On the other hand, not being able to excercise for a couple weeks has not been the greatest thing for me, as I find myself a little lost without the routine of a long workout on the weekend. I love the extra time, but since endurance training has really become my "hobby" along with a chance to see some friends, I've noticed the void. On top of that, I launched myself into the non-excercise regime and have quickly gained five pounds in two weeks... holidays, eh?

That said, my back is on the mend and my mind is racing with ideas for goals in the coming year. There are a lot of options, and I need to think it through and focus. The short list includes:

1) Spring marathon, fall event (half iron or marathon)
2) Spring triathlon, fall event (half-iron or marathon)
3) two marathongs
4) more short races and more trail runs
5) cycling centuries

So, we'll see.

Soft Hardware: 2nd place at Troy's Trail Runs Quicksilver 20.8 Miler

Choose the right races and you may end up on the podium! Yesterday I had an 18+ mile training run on my schedule, so I decided to jump into the "Troy's Trail Run Quicksilver Challenge" 20.8 mile trail run.

My goal for the day was to spend a long time on my feet (accomplished) and the idea of a supported run through Quicksilver was strangely appealing. It was a last minute decision, so I had no time to research the race or get nervous, I just showed up, paid my $45 and shoved off.

In short, the run was a lot of fun. The course started from the Mockingbird entrance, which I've never run before, and I was stunned to find a 15% grade for the first mile. I took it slow, "ultra-walking" up the path with the knowledge that the course would level out at the top. Once I got past that first hill though it was a really glorious run for about the next 10 miles. As you can see from the map, the organizer strung together nearly 21 miles with very little overlap on the trails. In addition, the run was well supported, with at least 5 stocked aid stations with GU, coke, nuts, and other snacks and sports drinks.

The field stretched out and I had no idea how I was doing relatively, but I was enjoying some scenic running and a great playlist on the iPod, and for a while the miles clicked off. When I pulled into the mile 10 aid station, I was surprised to hear that I was the first 20.8 runner through (the folks in front of me were apparently all running the 8 or 13 mile courses) and with that inspiration I started focusing a bit more. Towards the end of the race the climbs and downhills were starting to hurt, but I had not been passed and from the last aid station home I ran pretty strongly along a flat to mild downhill path.

I finished to a smattering of applause from the race support crew, but alas they told me I was the second finisher, not the first. Ah well, the podium is the podium and I will treasure my red ribbon for a very long time, or until I lose it, whichever comes first.

Overall I covered the 21 miles in ~ 4:37 which is probably 1:40 or so longer than a 20 mile training run would've lasted, so it's clear how the hills impact a runner like me. But hopefully it's good strength training for the rolling downhill course at CIM.

The course itself was great: there was a lot of single-track, some technically challenging running, and enough fire roads to let me run uninhibited for long distances. It's tough to get into a rhythm when trail running, but there is sure a lot more to distract me from thinking about my tired legs all the time.

Big Kahuna 1/2 Ironman - Unfinished Business

Let's cut to the chase shall we?

1) I didn't complete a 1/2 ironman yesterday

and

2) I bonked

DNF you say? Not so quick. I finished the event and I got my medal. I finished slowly, and painfully, but I finished. I just didn't start it.

(cut to 4:30 AM, race day)

Up with the first alarm, didn't need the second. As usual, there was enough chaos in the bedroom to keep me from that perfect pre-race sleep: a restless dog, a sleepwalking child. But I slept well enough. I stumble into the hallway, into the bathroom, and find that the restless dog was restless for a reason. He had peed on the bathroom floor, which he does very rarely (and credit to him for using the bathroom right?). So, race day is off to an inauspicious start, I'm cleaning the bathroom floor while my coffee brews. And sadly for you readers, that isn't the last tale of an improvised bathroom that you'll read about today, but I digress.

I enjoy my banana, bagel with PB&J, and coffee, and soon enough I'm in the car for the drive over to Santa Cruz. Everything goes well at the transition area, I have a decent spot, I set up the gear I think I'll need, I get my body-markings, and I start to pull on the wet-suit. I head to the beach with 45 minutes to spare, and begin the search for friends, no easy task when everyone is in a wet-suit and cap.

Eventually I hook up with a few familiar faces: Monique, Russ, Pat, and we catch up on our recent activities as we wait for the race to start. Monique is regularly reaching the podium in her age group triathlons, Pat became an Ironman this year in Idaho, and Russ is keeping his calendar full with 4AM workouts and races. I share my Death Ride stories and am met with disbelief when I tell them of the 50+ MPH descents: I guess going that fast downhill is hard to imagine on a tri-bike. We continue to wait for the start.

And we wait.

Well, apparently the race officials don't feel safe getting the race underway, what with all the fog and the risk of losing a few swimmers, so after an hour of standing on the beach they officially cancel the swim leg, and the race gets started from the "swim out" area. The triathlon has quickly become a duathlon. I don't think any of us feel relieved at this point, and for me it just means I'm not going to complete a half-ironman. I'll be coming up just a mile short, but not just any mile...

My inner competitor knows this is not ideal, since my friends are faster on the bike and my only hope of beating them is to leave the water first and hold them off. But heck, this is just a race against the clock right? Bragging rights don't matter do they?

So the race starts and we run from the beach to transition and get started on the bike. I have actually been pretty anxious about the bike leg. When I pre-rode the course a month ago, it took me 3 hours 15 minutes, which seemed at least 15 minutes too long, so I was curious how the race day environment would affect the ride. thankfully, it's positive. I ride to the turnaround in a quick time of ~1:24 and am surprised to be so far ahead of my last pace. 20MPH average, nice! Russ and Pat are up the road, as expected, as is Monique who started with an earlier group. I learn later that Russ and Pat finish the bike a full nine minutes in front of me - I start building a mental case for buying a tri-bike next year.

On the return trip I get slower as I progress, and I assume I am losing power from a quick start. It's a little discouraging to get passed by so many in the last 10 miles and I'm blaming my training as I get off the bike, but I do a quick check of my wheel and realize my rear brake has been rubbing. Doh! Hard to say what this cost me, a few minutes a few calories, whatever. It was fine when the ride started and I think I may have knocked my wheel out of alignment with about 15 miles to go.

And now to the run. I get off the bike and feel some cramping immediately, but it seems manageable. I start conservatively and settle into a mid-to-low 8 minutes/mile pace about 4 miles into the run, hoping that I can keep this up and start pushing after mile 7 or 8. Alas, my stomach has other ideas.

I had fueled as much as possible on the bike, and apparently I had over-fueled. There's a lot of "stuff" sloshing around in there, and I am feeling more and more nauseous with every step. I slow and eventually walk to try to let the feeling pass, however it doesn't help. I still feel some hope at mile 7, having passed the half-way point at about 55 minutes, so I decide to skip the porta-potty and gut it out, but with another half mile it becomes clear to me that something's gonna have to give. I look desperately for the next aid station, but with nothing in site it's clear I'll have to improvise - time for what Phil Liggett tastefully terms a "natural break", in some well covered bushes separating the course from the artichoke fields.

I'm less nauseous now, but I'm heading into full bonk territory unable to take in any more nutrition, so the last few miles are a painful death march. It's a very frustrating feeling for me, knowing that I can't test my fitness and resolve at the end of this race, have missed any time goals I set out, and have to suck it up. But I've watched enough of those Ironman Kona recaps to understand that I must respect the race and bring it home, knowing that the karma points may come back sometime down the road. Plus there are no taxis in sight. So I keep moving, half walking half jogging. Russ catches me at mile twelve (I'd passed him at mile 5 on the run) and we silently push each other to keep running to the end (he is "one big cramp" at this point he tells me). The Big Kahuna race ends cruelly, with a half mile run on the beach to the finishing chute.

Justine is there at the finish and I'm happy to see her, but pretty wrecked, frustrated and disappointed too, so I spend the next few minutes stumbling around, saying nothing, pounding some sports drink, acting emotional, but I slowly start to feel reasonable again. I had hoped that with the walk-run pace at the end my legs would feel OK, but they're in bad shape as well.

Final stats:
Bike: 2:54
Run: 2:20
Transition 1: NA
Transition 2: really?

So there it is. A bad race, they happen. I'm doing some post-mortem and I think I have a handle on some of the major issues/mistakes I made: basically, I treated each leg as a discrete event, eating as I normally would on a bike ride, and expecting to eat as I normally would on a run. What I came to realize though is that you can eat plenty on the bike, but if you come off with a fairly full stomach you'll not be able to finish the food absorption while running. Duh! Ironically, by eating too much, I blocked absorption and ran out of fuel halfway through the run (or more accurately, the fuel ran out of me...).

The last time I had a bad race was Big Sur Marathon in 2006, and I wallowed for awhile, but no time for that this year. I signed up for Cal International Marathon in December, and have to crank out a few long runs between now and then. Once that's done, I'll figure out the plan to recover my bruised ego and solve this triathlon distance. For now though I'll dwell on a good bike ride and the good feeling I had in my legs for a short while before things went south.

As always, thanks for your indulgence.