Duluth

Race Report: Voyageur 50 (Volunteering)

Volunteering at an aid station is a surefire cure for the running blues.

The Curnow Trail Marathon only set me back $10, as I made a commitment to volunteering for the Voyageur. So while DNS-ing the race had a significant impact on my dignity and self-esteem, the financial impact was minimal.

The Voyageur 50 is an out-and back race which follows essentially the same trail as the Curnow Marathon. It starts and ends in Carlton, instead of starting at the Zoo and ending in Carlton. This means some aid stations end up being open for quite awhile. I was at the Forbay Lake aid station, which was at mile 5.8/44.2, so it was a long day to staff. I only worked the afternoon portion, arriving around 11:45, about 5 minutes before the lead runner arrived. The aid station captain and 3 of the other women already there when I arrived had been there since 6 a.m., and stayed until 4 or later, so it was a really long day! They did have a long lull after the final runners went through and got in a run. Two other people arrived midway through my shift, and four of us closed down the aid station, along with one of the ham radio operators.

The first thing I have to do is compliment the race staff and our aid station captain for being on top of things. We were prepared for runners’ needs (within reason) and didn’t run out of anything except ginger ale and maybe watermelon at the very end. When we ran low on ice and watermelon, the race staff was there to refill us well in advance of truly running out, since the AS captain had thought to call ahead with plenty of time. We had more than enough water and sports drink, and runners were always able to grab what they needed off the table. The only things they really had to wait for were ice (which we scooped from coolers) and bottle/hydration pack refills.

My job was to mark down the numbers of runners as they came through. At first, I shared this job with another woman, who I finally realized looked familiar because I had seen her at Superior; she was one of the top women finishers (though I don’t believe a podium finisher). I felt kinda dumb because I was talking about what it’s like to be slow to someone who doesn’t know anything about being slow! For the most part, it wasn’t too hard to get all the numbers down, although sometimes we couldn’t read the numbers til the runners were practically on top of us. We didn’t have a single drop at our aid station, and only 3 runners who were cut by the grim reaper after the cutoff, so we didn’t have to call in many numbers.

Beyond collecting numbers, I helped out filling water bottles, replenishing drink cups, scooping ice into hats, and anything else that was needed. I sprayed one guy down with sunscreen I’d brought for myself; he was shirtless and sweaty and trying to apply sunscreen lotion to his back, but it was fruitless. I gave him a few spritzes and he was on his way. Our group talked to everyone, whether it was just to be friendly, to try to assess their condition, or to offer some encouragement to someone struggling. We reassured people they hardly had any distance left, and it was easy — at least until the next aid station. We answered their questions with a smile, and then answered the same question again when they forgot they’d even asked it. “2.4 miles to the next aid station, then 3.4 to the finish. 5.8 total.” I said that probably 500 times, if you consider that there were over 300 runners and I repeated it to many people.

No one came into the aid station looking like a zombie, or vomiting profusely, or covered in blood. Very few people even looked like they needed an extra eye on them while they ate or drank. It seemed anyone who was struggling or sick or injured badly had already been weeded out by the tough course, and anyone who reached us before the cutoff was destined to finish. I was pretty grateful no one barfed on or near me, as I always am. The AS captain’s son was running the race, and her husband and other son, who were crewing for him, arrived in the late afternoon to hang out, help with runners, and wait for their runner to show up. He had a bit of a rough day, but since his family was running the aid station, he didn’t get much pity. The other runners coming through with him got a secondhand dose of parental tough love, which they thought was funny.

The final hour or so before the cutoff, the aid station got rather quiet. We’d been bustling in the mid-afternoon, with crews showing up hoping to catch their family or friend and offer encouragement or help them get what they needed. (I was really grateful when a large group of runners came through and a few of them had crew; it allowed us to serve the crew-less runners more quickly.) Watching them was interesting. Some were anxious. Some barely seemed bothered (or were too busy entertaining kids to be anxious). Some were tired, others had already completed the race or had dropped and were coming to crew others. (One left his race number on and I nearly wrote it down multiple times before finally exercising my authority and making him take it off.) Some barely made it in time for their runners or even missed them, others camped out well in advance of their runner’s arrival. Some crews were efficient, with loads of extra supplies, receiving orders from their runners. Others were there simply to give a hug and a kiss and support. Some brought very cute dogs, others brought very cute kids.

In the final hour, we had several large groups of runners burst through together, and then long lulls. We watched the time tick away, hoping for more runners to make it. The race had started late, so the cutoff had been extended about 5 minutes. We got them through quickly, shouting encouragement. I told one woman who looked a little desperate that I had no doubt she would finish. I don’t know if that helped much, but I think she finished. (It’s Wednesday and the results have not been published yet.) The final guy through was told by the race official that he had to keep going, couldn’t stop for aid. And then the next guy, a few minutes later, was cut.

I really felt for the three men who sat with us at the aid station after we’d closed, knowing they were so close to the finish line, not looking particularly worse for the wear, but unable to continue. I spent quite awhile talking with one of them. He told me about his coach (Michael Borst, the winner of the race!), and how he’d learned so much and had finished the Zumbro 50 thanks to his advice and expertise. I really felt badly, and I told him “It takes a lot of courage to run a race when you’re not sure you’ll make the cut-offs. It’s one thing to be fast and have a bad race, but still come in well before the cut-offs. It’s another thing to know that even a good race might get you cut.” Or something to that effect. I hope it helped a little. It seemed to, at least for a moment. But I also know it was pretty embarrassing and dejecting for those 3 guys sitting there, waiting to figure out rides, and then finally piling into a race official’s car to get a ride back to the finish. Especially when the finish was only 5.8 miles away.

It took awhile for the sweeps to come; so long, in fact, that I jogged out on the trail with one of the other volunteers to look for them. I’m not sure how far we went out, maybe half a mile, and then turned around without finding them. If we’d just gone a little farther, we’d have found them, as they arrived a few minutes after we returned. They took some food and water and then left, and we finished the final few tasks involved in breaking down the aid station. I’m not a huge fan of that part of an event (who is?), but with fun people to work with, it wasn’t terrible.

I really enjoyed working at the aid station, although I still think my favorite volunteer experience was working the finish line at Superior last fall. I’m glad I did it; not only did it give me a chance to give back to the trail running community and to give the kind of service to other runners that I have received at numerous aid stations, it also re-motivated me to train for the Moose Mountain Marathon. I missed running and missed racing, although from the tales of the Curnow Marathon I heard from the women at the aid station, I felt a little more justified in skipping the race. I was not prepared to climb up slick, muddy hills after being awake for 30 hours. I’m a little more at peace with my decision.

Thanks, Voyageur runners and volunteers, for inspiring me and re-energizing me for the next 6 weeks of training. I’m happy to be back on the trails.

Eugene Curnow Trail Marathon Goals

24 hours from now, I’ll be departing at the Lake Superior Zoo, hopefully at a decent pace and hopefully not needing to pee already.

A couple weeks ago, I was wearing headphones on a run, one of the rare times I do, and this song came on and it is now my mantra for the race.

I will not go down under the ground
“Cause somebody tells me that death’s comin’ ’round
An’ I will not carry myself down to die
When I go to my grave my head will be high,
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.

I’m not going to give up. I’m going to battle through anything this race throws at me, whether it’s heat or rain or mud or who knows? I’m prepared, or as prepared as I can be. I’m going to be a marathoner by tomorrow afternoon.

Goals:
A Standard: 8:30:00
B Standard: 9:00:00
C Standard: 9:59:59

I don’t usually have a back-up back-up before the race begins, but there are so many unknowns that I figured I’d better have more options for success. I made a “laminated” (covered in clear tape) chart noting what time I’d need to arrive at each aid station in order to be on pace for each of these goals. This will eliminate any need to compensate for GPS error, and will allow me to know my situation even if my GPS watch dies.

All of these goal times are at paces slower than even my Superior 25K race, which was somewhat of a disaster. UltraSignup suggests I should target a finish time of 8:53:16, which is very precise. I’d take that, for sure.

I’ve still got a laundry list of things left to do, although the list is long because I have gotten very detailed. I have things like “fill hydration pack” on the list. I also have writing this post on my list. Check. So, I don’t have a lot of big stuff to do, just a billion little things that will take a few seconds apiece. I bought a lot of gels and put my precious vanilla Coke in the fridge. I’m ready.

The usual non-pace-related goals apply: I don’t want to puke, become incontinent, pass out, or otherwise have a medical emergency. I don’t want to get struck by lightning in the event of a storm. I don’t want to get poison ivy when I have to step off the trail to pee. I don’t want to get swept or pulled off the course for weather-related issues. (I don’t know if this race actually sweeps, they give no cut-off times.) I need get in a couple warm up miles, especially since I’ve been sluggish the past couple days. I will start at the back of the pack as I always do, and run my own race.

Let me drink from the waters where the mountain streams flood
Let me smell of wildflowers flow free through my blood
Let me sleep in your meadows with the green grassy leaves
Let me walk down the highway with my brother in peace.
Let me die in my footsteps
Before I go down under the ground.

Eugene Curnow Trail Marathon Training: Week 6

A lesson in what happens when I don’t take a cutback week in time.

Monday: rest
Tuesday: 5.7 mi, road, 138 bpm
Wednesday: rest
Thursday: 9.4 mi, road, 135 bpm
Friday: 7.1 mi, paved trail (Lakewalk starting @ Brighton Beach), 142 bpm
Saturday: 14.1 mi, trail (SHT starting at Highland/Getchell), 149 bpm
Sunday: 4.6 mi, road, 133 bpm
Total: 40.8 mi

Wow, I just did not care about running this past week. Both Monday and Wednesday, I took a rest day just because I couldn’t bring myself to run. I simply didn’t care. I hated myself for signing up for the race, I doubted my ability to finish it, and I just wanted to sit around and do nothing. I’m tired and my runs all feel like sleepwalks. I don’t think I had a run all week that I enjoyed.

Well, no, that’s not entirely true. I did enjoy Saturday’s run. I enjoyed having a long run that wasn’t six hours long. I learned a few things on that run, too:

  1. Long runs are much easier when not begun during the heat of the day. I have been starting my long runs at, like, 1:00. That means I’m starting out in the heat, and by the time it cools off, I’m already sapped from the heat. I am doing it on purpose, to try to acclimate, so this isn’t a total surprise. But I started my long run this past week at about 3:45 pm. I had a lot more energy and I was able to run the second half a minute faster than the first half, including a potty break during the second half. This gave me a bit of confidence for the race. It starts at 6 a.m., so I will be covering a lot of ground before the sun gets too high. Of course, some people will be finishing before that point, but I will at least have a few hours of better weather to make some progress. I’ve been torturing myself with these warm long runs without putting them in context with the bigger picture, and I finally took a step back and pieced it all together. It’s good to remember the purpose of tough workouts, and if there isn’t one, I’d better find one or find a new workout.
  2. I can run faster than I do. Ok, these are training runs, so the point isn’t to go fast, especially on long runs. But I am definitely holding back. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. I mean, yes, conventional wisdom is not to race one’s training, but am I going too easy? I realize that I am not practicing running faster on trails enough. I’m always afraid I’ll blow up, get sick from the heat, get hurt, fall, etc. And then of course there are the times I think I’m moving at a decent clip, look down at my watch, and see I’m running at a 21:xx pace. Why do I have such a bad sense of pace? Or is my watch just that unreliable? I don’t know. However, in pushing the pace to try to have even “splits” for the run, I ran the final mile, which was entirely uphill, faster than I ran the first mile, which was of course entirely downhill (since I did an out and back). I’m capable of more than I think.

Those are some good lessons, ones that I needed to learn as I struggle with my confidence. I’m less than 2 weeks out from race day, ready to start cutting back (I’ll be doing 2 rest days this week and next, and my “long run” this coming weekend will not require a hydration pack), and ready to do some much-needed mental work.

My biggest fear is the weather, that it will be 90 degrees the day of the race and in the days leading up to it (I don’t have air conditioning so 90 degree days = sleepless nights because my house takes so long to cool off) and I will suffer and get sick. I can’t control the weather, so I need to focus on my cooling strategies.

My other fear is not knowing the course. I don’t really feel like the maps and written course descriptions are very detailed or clear (I’m not sure how far “a bit” is), and since the course doesn’t follow a specific trail like the SHT, it worries me. I worry about getting off course. I shouldn’t worry; this isn’t a new race, not their first rodeo, etc. I’m more concerned about my own abilities to spot course markers and make good decisions. This concern is minor relative to my worry about the weather; I’ve already run two races without knowing the courses at all, and have not had issues. If I knew without a doubt it was going to be 75 and cloudy but not rainy for the entire race, I would be confident about my ability to finish strong.

I have a tiny fear of being swept, but there isn’t an advertised hard cut-off at any of the aid stations, and I do see some official finishes that are over 10 hours, but who knows if I just haven’t read the right part of the website and there really is a cut-off, or if those last finishers had to run without aid stations, or something. I’m not super concerned about this, but it does creep into my mind occasionally.

Now here I’ve gone and worked myself into a small frenzy over a simple weekly training log post. Good thinking!

Race Report: Midnight Sun Midnight Run 5K 2016

Official Results:
Time: 30:02 (-4:19 from last year)
Pace: 9:40
Placing:
Overall: 226/551
Division (F30-39): 20/69 (I think. There are some people listed without ages as well as some unidentified runners on there, so I could be lower.)

Watch Results:
Time: 30:06
Pace: 9:37
Distance: 3.13 mi
Heart Rate: 183 bpm

Goals:
A: 29:59
B: 30:30

Food:
What I ate the night before for lunch: Thai peanut pasta and tabbouleh
What I ate on race morning for dinner: Small steak (bad idea) and corn
What I carried with me: nothing

Gear:
What I wore: T-shirt, shorts
Gadgets: GPS watch, fitness tracker

Discussion:
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh. SO CLOSE. Just 3 seconds away from a sub-30 5K. I’m disappointed, but I will survive. I think I ran a good race, and probably wasn’t in a position to run a great race.

We left the house at about 11:20, parked at a ramp on Michigan Ave, and then jogged (well, I jogged, my husband walked) over to the race start. I did about a mile warm-up in all, as we ran a small part of the course to check it out. It was much darker than I recalled. Maybe last year the moon was brighter, I don’t know. But, I warmed up! Hooray! I would have liked to do a slightly longer warm-up but realized it was 11:45 and turned around to get back in time for the start. The start seemed to take forever to come, we stood around for 10 minutes but it felt like 20. We didn’t start exactly at midnight either, and then it took awhile for us to filter through the start area. My heart rate was kind of elevated at the start (still aerobic) due to the warm-up and some slight pre-race anxiety.

Mile 1: 9:54 (180 bpm)
I was in the hole from the beginning, but it was so hard to dodge people. There weren’t pace groups, just a single sign at the front that said 7:00 pace. I think that was just a deterrent for slow people who might want to start at the front. It was very frustrating to try to dodge and weave through people while uncertain what the ground in front of me was like. There were a few small puddles and you’d think they were filled with battery acid from the horror of some participants. They were stopping, panicking, and making sudden lateral movements, just to avoid a puddle that wasn’t more than an inch deep. People were slowing to a walk (and not an intentional run-walk walk) less than half a mile in; just take 10% off your effort and you won’t have to do that, folks! I had a lot of speeding up and slowing down during this time, and it took almost half a mile to get up to goal pace, which was now too slow to make my goal. My mouth was a little dry which bothered me.

Mile 2: 9:45 (184 bpm)
Still above goal pace, argh. I really screwed myself. This did have 2 hills, but I did ok on the hills, even sometimes accelerating on them. I regretted the steak; I didn’t feel actually nauseated in my stomach, but did have kind of a gaggy feeling in my throat. I still had some dodging and weaving around people to do, which was made more difficult by the visibility. There were lighted stretches, and then unlighted stretches with enough ambient light to see, and other stretches in shadow where the ground wasn’t visible. That made it challenging for my eyes to adapt, and I wasn’t sure of my footing at times, so I had to be a bit cautious. So that caution cost me those 3 seconds… but tripping, falling, and twisting an ankle would have cost many more seconds. Right before the turnaround, the woman in front of me slowed suddenly due to an errant glow bracelet on the ground, which she said aloud that she thought was the cone. Um, thanks for stopping short right in front of me. I found anytime I was forced to slow down due to a sudden movement from someone else, it took me a bit to find my groove again, as opposed to a gentler slowdown from approaching a slower runner

Mile 3: 9:22 (186 bpm)
This mile was mostly downhill but did have one significant (for a 5K) uphill. I knew I needed to make up time, as I’d set my watch to show average pace and could see I’d been in a hole the whole race. I did have some slight cramping in my lower GI system but I knew I could power through and it would go away, either when I finished or before. It did, and I was glad I didn’t let it scare me. I was really able to get in a groove and was running much faster, but it clearly wasn’t enough. When my watch flashed for the 3rd mile, I saw I had about 55 seconds to get to the finish, and I turned on the jets, but it wasn’t enough. I didn’t know right away, though I knew it was close. I came through the chute at a sub-8 pace. Some spectator reached across to give me a high five, but they reached out so far I had to dodge around their hand. Look, I don’t mind giving high fives at the finish, but don’t hold your hand out so far it obstructs me. Let me choose if I want to touch you or not. I blew my nose into my hand about 80 times during the race so I saved the guy a snotty high-five.

My husband finished before me by about 45 seconds, and was lying in the grass (because he doesn’t know how to race without practically dying… I could use a bit of that devil-may-care attitude) and called out to me to let me know that he was there. I acknowledged him but he was also coughing and I was like dude if you’re going to be sick get away from me. He was fine, I was just being paranoid. We got some water and cookies and picked up our race shirts, then cooled down walking along the Lakewalk a bit before returning to the car. I felt fine until we got in the car and started driving, and then I started to feel a bit queasy. It passed, but gave me a moment of panic.

I am pleased with how I raced, even if I didn’t get that sub-30 I wanted. This was not a good race to try to push myself to the max, since it was fairly crowded until maybe the last kilometer or so (after passing the last of the runners still heading out), and it was pretty dark in some spots, with some sketchy footing. I probably shouldn’t have eaten steak, but it was what was for dinner. I can analyze every aspect of this race and find a million spots where I could have just changed things a little bit and I’d have made my goal, but it really doesn’t matter. I still ran a very good race, finished strong, improved my time and placing significantly, and now I know without a doubt that a sub-30 race is within my grasp. There’s still a lot of potential left in this body and mind, and I’m not even working on speed or shorter distances right now. We’ll see if I really do try to chase down the sub-30 dream again this summer; so far I haven’t found a 5K I want to run that’s cheap, convenient, and timely.

Midnight Sun Midnight Run 5K 2016 Goals

I have to take a moment here before I discuss my race goals to just lose my cool. I joined the Upper Midwest Trail Runners this year, and as part of the benefits of membership, I’m entitled to a discount at BOTH Austin Jarrow and Duluth Running Co., the local running stores I patronize. But I totally forgot. And I’ve bought shoes, accessories, and gels this year AND HAVEN’T USED THE STUPID DISCOUNT. I’m so mad at myself. GAHHHHHHHHHHH!

It popped into my mind since I’m stopping by DRC this afternoon to pick up my race packet for tonight, and I also need to buy some more anti-chafing balm since I left the one I just bought in my car and it melted into the cap. It’s… semi-usable. Sigh.

So, tonight, Midnight Sun Midnight Run. I’m excited. I know the course, the weather should be decent, and I’m well-rested. I did a speed session on my treadmill on Wednesday (6 x 0.5 mi @ 9:41 pace), didn’t run yesterday, and took a half day today so that I could sleep in a bit. I’m going to run a few errands and then lounge around until dinner time. (And do laundry, oops, I was supposed to do that yesterday, I have no clean running socks.) As long as I can pick up my packet with no issues this afternoon, I won’t have the logistical nightmare I did last year, and plan on parking in a ramp (for free) on the other side of the freeway. That will ensure that I get a warm-up completed.

My goals are as follows:

A Standard: 29:59
B Standard: 30:30

Last year I ran this race in 34:21. My most recent 5K time is 30:51. It might be a little absurd to try to shave nearly a minute off my race from a little over a month ago, but I don’t really care. I have a litany of excuses regarding that race which I can trot out to justify my goals for this race: upset stomach, super cold weather, lack of sleep, no warm-up, overall malaise. I’m well-rested today, had an encouraging speed session, and I’m fairly certain I’m physically ready to hit that sub-30 milestone. I just need to be mentally tough. I need to run a 9:39 overall pace in order to get under 30, and I know I can.

Strategically, I don’t know what to say. I’m not going to line up at the back like I did last year. The race is really congested, but lining up at the back didn’t help avoid any of it. I think I should find a good position in the first mile, tackle the hill on the second, and just hammer it on the way to the finish. The most important thing is to keep digging in and not let up on the pace or get lazy mentally. If that means I need to keep checking my watch to see where I’m at, that’s fine. Right now it appears I need that accountability.

The other mental mistake I need to avoid is assuming I’ve got my goals in the bank. I did this in the Gobble Gallop and I probably left something out on the course. My biggest weakness as a racer is fear. I don’t push harder enough because I fear I’ll blow up or throw up or both. I’ve conservatively raced enough 5Ks; it’s time to throw down.

Someone Had Blundered

I had a Charge of the Light Brigade-worthy run last night. Bad decision after bad decision.

Since the Curnow Trail Marathon is local, one of my training strategies is to get out on the course and scout out each section a couple times. This worked really well for me in the Harder ‘n Hell Half, and since I’m feeling a bit anxious about moving up to the marathon so quickly, I thought I’d revisit the strategy. Unfortunately, the course isn’t as straightforward as the other trail races I’ve run (Those races have basically two instructions: 1. Get on the Superior Hiking Trail. 2. Run, if you can.), so it seems I’ll have a tougher time following the actual course.

When I was a senior in high school, I joined the nordic skiing team, despite having little talent for skiing and little general athletic ability. My friends were on the team, I’d quit all my nerd activities other than math team and quiz bowl, and I liked a boy on the team (who was also on math team!), so those were sufficient reasons. We also went on a winter team trip to Giant’s Ridge in Biwabik, MN; another good reason.

I was a terrible skier, but since our team was very good and had plenty of excellent individual skiers to fill out the varsity roster, our coaches didn’t seem to mind that I spent a lot of time screwing around. They let me do my own thing, and I did make some progress, but I was still pretty terrible. One of my best friends was also new to the team that year, and she wasn’t very good either, so we stuck together.

During the class trip, we were all doing a warm-up loop and then a time trial on that same loop. My friend and I were so slow during the warm-up that one of the coaches suggested we cut across before the turnaround point so we could make it back in time for the start of the time trials. This meant that we didn’t know the course, and instead of turning around at the proper point, we kept on going. We must have skied around for an hour or so, trying to figure out where we were, before we finally took our skis off, marched the wrong way down the side of a ski trail, and made it back to the chalet, long after the time trial was over, everyone was on their own having lunch, and someone’s dad had been sent out to try to find us. We weren’t lost, as we were still within the resort and still on trails, but we had no idea where we were going.

Something similar happened last night. I was planning to run the Magney-Snively xc skiing trails, which I never have before. I left my house with a somewhat nebulous idea of where to go. My GPS ended up leading me to nowhere, but since it did lead me onto Skyline off of Midway Rd, I was able to follow Skyline to the Magney-Snively trail parking lot I use when running the SHT. I could jump on the Magney-Snively ski trails from there, so it worked out nicely. It was almost 7 PM, but I figured I could run for half an hour, no problem. Into the valley of death rode the six hundred.

The trail was completely ungroomed, which was a bad sign. At first it was just shoe-high grass, which was fine, but then it turned into ferns and violets and longer grass and I even saw a jack-in-the-pulpit underfoot at one point. The trail was also very soft, sometimes squishy underfoot, and at times there were even trail-wide pools of standing, murky water, a colloid with heaven knows how many gorillions of mosquito larva suspended inside. I normally will run through mud or puddles rather than go around, to help preserve the trail and to avoid wasting time, but by the point I reached the worst of it, I was so frustrated I didn’t care if I wasted time and just tried to jump from rock to rock or at least to more solid-looking spots. A groomed, packed cross-country skiing trail in a shaded wood has standing water in early June? You don’t say. I guess that was dumb of me, I’m sure that was one of the last places for the snow to melt, and the trails haven’t had a chance to dry out. Well, now I know. And I’m not running there again.

I also sucked at reading the maps. I was confused as to why there wasn’t a YOU ARE HERE sign on the trail maps nailed to trees at forks in the trail. There wasn’t because there was a huge letter (say, F, or D, or J) at the bottom of the map, and all of the letters were on the map. I wished I had figured that out right away, because the first time I looked at the map, I sort of guessed where I was, not noticing the letter at the bottom, and just kept going. Half a league, half a league, half a league onward.

Again, I wasn’t lost, because I was still on cross country ski trails, but I was not sure exactly where the trails were in relation to my car, and I was not sure how long it would take me to get back to the car once I could find my bearings. There was only so much daylight left and I didn’t have a headlamp, or food, or warm clothes. At about 7:45 I was starting to get stressed out, but stayed calm and kept running until I found the next map. I followed the map toward what I thought was the correct parking lot, but ended up coming out at Spirit Mountain Campground. That turned out to be over a mile away from my car, by road, but it was at least a road I knew. I that had fought so well came thro’ the jaws of death back from the mouth of hell. Shatter’d and sunder’d, maybe.

I have to do a better job of planning out my routes when I’m not familiar with them. I figured I’d be fine, since the trails were a series of loops, so I wouldn’t end up 10 miles away from my car, but I could have ended up running in circles for quite awhile, and if the sun had gone down, I’d have been in serious trouble. I stayed calm, I figured out the maps, and I stuck with one plan (get to a certain parking area on the map) instead of doubling back (since I wasn’t certain if I was really headed toward my car or not) or taking one fork, and then another. So that was good, even though my poor planning and recklessness were bad.

I am also fairly certain I didn’t run a single step on the actual marathon course, so that was not great. I will have to study the maps more closely, and in relation to some SHT maps, to see where I need to go. If all else fails, I’ll just run whatever routes I feel like and go into race day blind. Although there’s apparently a notorious section of power lines that I feel like I need to see in advance, if I check out nothing else.

Superior 25K Training: Week 3

Last “big” week of training. My schedule and my resting heart rate are telling me I need to back off.

Monday: 5 mi, treadmill, 140 bpm
Tuesday: rest
Wednesday: 3 mi (6×400 @ 10:00 pace), treadmill, 145 bpm
Thursday: 6.4 mi, treadmill, 131 bpm
Friday: 7.3 mi, trails (Hartley), 138 bpm
Saturday: 5.5 mi, treadmill, 144 bpm
Sunday: 13.9 mi, trails (Superior Hiking Trail), 152 bpm
Total: 41.1 mi

Monday I let myself have a nice workout while ignoring that aerobic threshold. My average heart rate still stayed below 143, and the highest spike was only 156 bpm. I was pretty wrecked all day Monday, basically in a fog at work, but I felt better after the workout.

Wednesday I did my first speed workout in months! It was a little ambitious (and actually I meant to do 8×400, but I had to cut the workout short to make it to the 7 PM showing of Purple Rain on time and not sweaty), but I always find it harder to hit certain paces on the treadmill than I do outside. I hope the weather cooperates and in 2 weeks when I’m doing my next set of repeats, I’m able to do them outside and can really gauge what my speed is. It wasn’t exceptionally cold out, but there were some strong gusts of wind, and I’d have stayed inside to work out even if I didn’t have time constraints. My heart rate was in the high 170s during the 400s, but for 4/5 of the recovery intervals (0.1 mi) I was able to get my it back down to aerobic. (I say 4/5 because the 6th was also part of the cooldown so of course it was aerobic.)

Thursday I did a nice easy run on the treadmill, testing out my new shoes. I ended up running at a 15:41 pace; contrast that to Saturday’s run (there was a cold, gusting wind so I stayed inside like a wimp), where I ran at a 15:51 pace and had a higher heart rate. A clear sign of fatigue, though obviously I’d be more fatigued the day after a medium-length trail run than I would be the day after a short speed workout.

Friday I had a nice run at Hartley. I was overdressed, but not significantly. I was wearing gloves, which I ended up carrying most of the time, but better safe than sorry. I ran the Fairmont Street trail, cut over to the outer loop, ran Root Canal, and then took the Fisherman up to Guardrail. I was concerned about how much daylight I’d have left, so I thought instead of doing the full Guardrail loop, I’d run Blue Pots, the inner loop. Well, it seems like no one takes that trail, because it was really hard to follow where it went, and I ended up rejoining  Guardrail the first chance I got. If I ran out of daylight, I’d rather do it on a familiar trail. I took the hills easy, but didn’t worry about my heart rate. Liberating!

Sunday I decided to run the Superior Hiking Trail, starting at Spirit Mountain. I followed the Harder ‘N Hell course until Twin Ponds, and then turned off on Skyline to go home. I drove out to Spirit Mountain and left my car at the trailhead, and picked it up later while running errands. It was convenient! The run was… ok. It was not at race effort (I ran Zumbro at an average of 162 bpm vs this run at 152 bpm avg), but it wasn’t exactly inspiring. I was overdressed again, but I didn’t know what the wind was going to do. I wish I’d worn shorts. I had a hoodie on but kept it tied around my waist most of the time, and kept my tissue-weight long-sleeved shirt on the whole run. It saved me from more sunburn, I guess. The back of my neck is burned, and my face is a little pink (I did put sunscreen on my face, but missed the back of my neck because it was covered by my hoodie. Poor planning.) I tried to take the hills at a less-than-maximum effort, and then run flats and downhills aerobically. I had 2 protein bars, one handheld with sports drink, and one handheld with water, which I consumed almost completely during the run. It looks like 14 trail miles might be my limit as far as liquids are concerned.

This next week I need to take things down a notch. I’m pushing too hard, and getting fatigued. My resting heart rate is up, I had a bit of trouble falling asleep last night, and my ears are ringing. All of these are signs that I need to relax, ramp down my mileage, and regroup for the race. I am traveling for work this week, so I will have one, maybe two rest days, maybe more, depending on how the trip goes. I’ll be prepared to hit the hotel gym in the evenings, but will see how I feel and how much work stuff I’ve got to get done. If I don’t run much on this trip, it’s not a big deal.