Bikers Have Nothing On Runners

OK, so it's only been a week.  It didn't take long to determine bikers have nothing on runners.

Bike pants vs running shorts.  The use of the word "pant" is an immediate clue that bikers don't have any sense of fashion or practical wear.  The "pant" comes with fitted a giant KOTEX pad.  The pad is sooooo large it makes you walk bow-legged.  Not to mention everything, and I mean everything the "pant" is supposed to "cover" is visible.  Nothing left to the imagination at all. 

Snot rockets.  I'll admit they are gross either way.  That said, a 25 mile per hour snot rocket is way more significant than one at 6-10 miles an hour.  Can you imagine getting hit by one of these?

Bank accounts:  Let's face it, bikers are always begging beers off runners.  Now I know why.  They have no money after buying the bike, bike "pants", liability insurance for their snot rockets, and a wide and diverse range of other assorted expenses.

Injuries:  Runners have real injuries.  They break bones, skin the knees, tear muscles, all the good injuries.  What is the number one biker injury?  I'll tell you, it's "SORE ASS SYNDROM."  Must be hard, setting on your ass for a couple hours.  And to think bikers call this "exercise." 

Crazy.

I am a Rain Runner

My favorite time to run is while it is raining.  Not the windblown needles in your face rain.  The straight down run through the curtain – rain.

The sensations are amazing.  Droplets dripping from the end of my nose, hair matted to the neck, clothes clinging to skin, clean air in the lungs, thumping of rain drops on pavement, and puddles parting on the foot strike. 

Let it rain.    

September 2010 Rahr 5K (18:15)

Score One for the Heat

From July 2012

Well there always has to be a first time.  The DC area is finally having their

heat wave (Late July 2012).  Thursday through Sunday the heat index is projected to be in the

105-115 range.  Unfortunately this overlapped my final long mileage training

weekend.  Undeterred or exceedingly careless, take your pick, I decided to forge

ahead with the plan.  The Friday afternoon schedule:  20 miles - 25 if I felt

good.

It's just before 3pm, hot and humid.  I'm having second thoughts.  Cut it

short.  Only do 10.  What do I do?  Put a smile on my face, try to be positive,

tell myself my TX buddies have been doing this all summer, you can handle the

heat.  So off I go.  Running on as much shaded trail as possible.  Drinking

plenty of fluids (more than ever).  Running slow (slower than ever).  Taking

electrolyte caps every 30 minutes.

4 miles in and a bee stings my right calf.  Not one to complain, I shooed the

beast away.  It only served to piss the little bugger off as it nailed my right

thigh.  Still smiling with a little teeth grinding and a SOB whisper, I swatted

at the creature.  I swear the thing was six inches long.  Now it's really

unhappy.  I managed to whack it with the water bottle and sprint ahead, damage

to right leg done.

Still undeterred I finished the full 20 miles.  Plenty of fluid (90-100

ounces and 4-5 full body rinse downs at water fountains).  Felt fine at the car

and headed out to find something to eat.

I settled on a Chipotle near the hotel.  I'm standing in line and getting really

annoyed at this lady that keeps adding on to her order and correcting items -

it's taking forever.  Just as I order my mind is telling me to, "Go sit

down!"  I'm like why, I need to get my food first.  The lady is still getting

extra chips and salsa.  I start to feel my body temp go up, head is burning hot,

and I'm getting a cold sweat.  I hear the voice again, "You better go sit

down!!!"  Still, I'm like you are almost there, pay, get a drink, then sit

down.  I pay for the food.  As I reach out for the tray I notice a little bit of

light headiness and my hands are trembling just a little.  The first available

table is open and I do my best to steer myself in that direction.  "I'm going to

make the table!"  Wrong.  Instead I fainted (first time ever).  Fell towards and

over a half wall right before the table.

Next thing I know there is a worker on each arm helping me to a chair.  They are

asking if I need an ambulance and what they can get me.  I got to say there was

about a 30 second window where in spite of the fainting I felt pretty good.  A

really nice relaxed feeling.  The feeling quickly changed to unberable heat and

exhaustion.  I found myself sitting in a pool of sweat sipping on a coke.  After

about ten minutes I found myself shaking from the cold.  After about 45 minutes

I finally managed to eat some food, finish a couple drinks, and make my way back

to the hotel.

As for now, I'm planning on skipping the two Saturday 20 milers and only doing 1

Sunday 20 miler.  I'm really disappointed because the run part of the Friday

afternoon run went well.  It's what happened 20 minutes later that spoiled all

the fun.  Oh well, it's what running is all about.  Finding new and improved

ways to mistreat the body.  Did I ever mention runners are nuts?

Let Your Heart Play!

Every once in a while you get lucky as a runner.  For no particular reason the heart beats out the brain.  There are so many days I get caught up in work, commitments, or personal trauma.  The brain kicks into high gear and directs heart and legs on what to do (10 miles easy, forced tempo, hills).  Of course I encourage my brain's bossy behavior by developing detailed training plans.  Monday off, Tuesday track, Wednesday easy...  I wonder, when do we allow the heart to direct the legs and tell the brain to shut the F up?

The Fort Worth Labor Day 15/5K is a great event.  It is the only event I try to repeat from year to year.  This year the brain directed the body to go easy and have fun.  Leading up to the run I teased everyone I would start from the back and slap all the RAW asses I passed.  When I arrived I laced up the shoes and headed out on a 2 mile jog.  During the jog I got the "feeling."  My heart wanted to play.  I found myself shifting from a jog to 100 meter strides.  My heart and legs dancing with joy.

At the start line the brain kept saying - only 7 minute miles, no more.  At the gun the heart said - move your ass.  And for no particular reason, one week after completing a 100 mile ultramarathon, my heart wanted to play.  So play we did <3. 

1st Grand Master 18:40 5K

Thanks for the pic's Trackie's

It is not about the finish, it is all about the struggle September 2011

It is not about the finish, it is all about the struggle.  W.J.

Talking Man - Byron

Half of the Best Crew Ever

Awesome Erin

Other half of Best Crew Ever

All bad things begin with Drum.  Every once in a while they turn out good.  I admire Drum for her infectious spirit more than she can possibly imagine.  When she found out I was going to do Lean Horse she offered to be a pacer for me.  I told her I appreciated the offer but I didn’t think I could bear the guilt of having her travel to South Dakota if I dropped from the race.  In true Drum form she signed up for the 50 mile, gets Greg and Kevin to sign up for the event, and somehow convinces Erin and Byron to crew.        

The TX gang is all here on Friday afternoon.  It is HOT in Hot Springs, South Dakota.  Not a HOT bed of a metropolis, just big blue sky hot.  We all pushed our limits by training in the heat and humidity during the summer and think we are prepared.  It’s only 100 miles for me, 50 miles for the dynamic duo (Greg and Drum), and an easy 50 kilometer fun run Kevin.

I’m in bed by 8:30 p.m.  This has to be the quietest hotel I’ve ever stayed in.  It helps when all of the guests are running an ultramarathon the next morning.   I’m up at 3 a.m. for the pre-race rituals.  Eat, lite stretch, and coffee.  I turn on the TV and the movie Jerry McGuire is playing.  It’s the scene where Tom Cruise is on the phone shouting “Show me the money!” and “I love the black man!”  It’s one of my favorite movie scenes.  I’m thinking it’s going to be a great day for a 100 mile run. 

I walk next door to the convention center to catch the bus to the start line.  The TX gang is all smiles and happy faced.  Slapping hands and hugging.  We are actually looking forward to getting our respective event started.  All thinking happy thoughts, “Did you hear it might rain this afternoon?  It will not be so HOT after all.”  Kevin says it’s time to get on the bus.  What the race director really said is, “Sorry folks, the busses are not coming.  Every one find a ride to the start line.”  Thankfully we have a two member crew (the fantastic Byron and Erin) and cars.  We find a pair of stray runners, load them into the car, and head out to the start line at mile 16 of the Mickelson Trail.

I find myself in the middle of nowhere on a rails to trails course at sunrise.   As I stand in the middle of the nervous energy of the runners I’m thinking, “What have I done to myself now.”  The landscape is beautiful.  Rolling prairie leading to the pine covered Black Hills of South Dakota.  The temperature is cool, there is a slight breeze, and not a cloud in the sky.  My head is in the game.  I have done my part.  I trained hard, I did my homework, and I have a great running plan.  Let’s get it on!

It is a no frills start as almost all trail runs are.  10-9-8…2, 1 GO!  Just like that a long line of runners heads out on the White Line.  I feel great.  Runners are chatting about where they are from, goals for the race, all the training they have done, and the weather.   The first few aid stations are quick in and outs.  Top off the water bottle, grab some food for the trail, and thank the volunteers.  The volunteers and assorted crews at the aid stations did a fantastic job throughout the day, night, and following morning.  Somehow they just seemed to know what I needed before I could even think of it.  One runner’s support crew adopted me and took to calling me NEON.  How awesome is that!

At the Pringle aid station I make my second tragic mistake (the first was waking up).  I had placed several post-it notes with Erin’s cell number in a Zip-lock bag with my I-pod.  The notes were pre-printed with, “The WJ is at mile ….”  I handed one of the notes to a nice lady and asked her to text Erin.  This is how I communicated my initial update at Pringle Station.  Stupidly, I placed the notes back into the Zip-lock bag and into my drop bag.  No more updates would be made and the use of tunes for a distraction forever lost.   

While departing Harbach Park aid station (mile 28ish) I am stilling running well and feeling great.  Consistent 9:15 to 9:30 miles, exactly what my running plan called for.  A half mile out from Harbach Park I turn onto a short 1.5 mile out and back spur.  In less than 3 miles I’m out of water and the first wave of nausea sets in.  Thankfully the race director has set out a self-service water only aid station when I return to the trail.  I take 3 papaya tablets and chase them with water.  I have 5 miles to the Mountain aid station.

It’s called Mountain aid station for a reason.  It’s a 5 mile climb to the high point of the course.  It’s a little after noon and the never ending hill is killing me.  No shade and the temperature feels like it’s rising 10 degrees for every mile.  The nausea sets back in, I start walking, and start conserving water.  Just before reaching Mountain I see several teenagers walking down the hill carrying water and cups.  Sometimes small miracles have major impacts.  By the time I reach Mountain I’m convinced my day is over and I will not have even finished half the race.  For a brief delusional moment I hope I might see Byron or Erin, knowing good and well that it’s not my turn. 

Sometimes the best race day plan is not good enough.  The best ever training program is all for naught.  The endless miles and miles of running day after day after day comes down to a pivotal decision.  Do I quit or do I continue?  It’s a big mental challenge.  One I believe you must experience and overcome in training to know if, when, or how to continue.  I opted to sit it out for a while and take in as much fluid as possible before heading back out.  After 30 minutes I pulled myself together and got my ass back on the trail.  Two things got me going.  First, from that moment forward I no longer tried to go 100 miles.  I only wanted to go from one aid station to another.  Each aid station became a small victory and many small victories ultimately became a monumental accomplishment.  Second, I had people waiting for me and I could not let them down.  For some crazy reason that I don’t truly understand, the gang from Texas had become one with me.  Had I been there alone I would have hitched a ride back to town.           

I left Mountain feeling better about my condition and disappointed that the original 20 hour goal had become a lost cause.  The run to the next aid station was mostly downhill and I regretted deeply that I must face the return to Mountain later in the day.  5 miles later at the next aid station I found a chair in the shade and sat it out for another 30 minutes.  I thought if I stayed there long enough Byron and Erin would eventually find me and take me home.  I kept muttering, “It is still not your turn for help.  Greg and Drum haven’t finished.”  I wasn’t angry at them, just trying to come to terms with the hard reality that I would be on my own for a lot longer.  The next aid station was the turn and a chance for another small victory.  “I can make the turn, all I have to do is get on the trail.” 

Whatever is worse than extreme nausea – I have it.  On the way to the turn the sun and heat are brutal.  I agonize between walking and a slow jog.  The whole time a refreshing creek mocks me as it flows alongside the trail.  I kept looking for a place where I could get back out if I managed to haphazardly fall in.  Anything to cool myself down and get off my feet.   You can sense when a runner is hurting before you ever reach them.  It was hard finding myself on the receiving end of, “Hang in there man,” and “Do you need anything,” and “Are you ok?”  More than any other group of runners it is the ultrarunner that truly understands the physical and mental anguish the trail can deliver.  The high level of camaraderie and compassion within this group is remarkable.     

I reached the turn at mile 48.  I’m certain if the turn had been at mile 50 I would have quit.  I had to make it at least half way.  I am exhausted and opt for another sit-down.  An elderly lady waiting on her son asks me why someone would choose to run 100 miles.  “Because it was the stupidest thing I could think of.”  She laughed and walked away shaking her head.  After 20 minutes, two salt caps, and a few more papaya tabs I’m back in business.  On the way out an incoming runner asked how I was doing.  Jokingly I replied, “Dead man running.”  Little did I know that I would be starting the worst 5 mile experience of my life.  The memory alone is painful and difficult to put down in words.  Karma is a bitch.

I managed to make a half mile before I started walking.  I could not think of enough good thoughts to run another step.  I felt bad for myself and worse for the TX gang I carried inside.  I had let them all down.  The sun, dehydration, and altitude were winning and the WJ was losing badly.  If I had a Post-It note the message to Erin would have been, “WJ is at mile 50 – SEND HELP!”  Just past mile 50 I bent over a fence railing and started the first of many dry heaves.  I would walk a 100 yards, double over, and heave.  Each episode more heart wrenching than the last.  I was rapidly disintegrating without any hope of recovery.  Walking a straight line became an enormous challenge.  I was determined not to pass-out in the middle of nowhere on a sun baked trail.  I devoted every last ounce of energy and mental ability I had left on trying to walk in a straight line.  In retrospect I’m convinced this extreme focus on one task and only one task broke the cycle of dry heaves.  Again, a small miracle having a major impact.   

As I turned into the Oreville aid station my adopted cheering squad was there, “Hey NEON – how’s it going!”  Sadly, it was the last time I would see them.  I think their runner eventually dropped.  I never had the chance to say thanks for their kindness and generosity.  I sat down in the same crying chair as before.  Immediately upon sitting both legs (calves, hams, quads) and the right bicep severely cramped.  The worst pain you can imagine.  The slightest movement created one spasm after another.  A volunteer brought me some coke.  As soon as the coke touched my mouth the tongue started to cramp.  I sat in the crying chair too tired to swat away the flies and watched runner after runner come and go.  I was devastated.  The next aid station is Mountain.  To get there I will have to climb a 3 mile hill.  Victory, if it came at all, would not come easy.  I was absolutely certain the 24 hour cutoff could not be reached.  40 minutes went by faster than Mr. Bolt runs the 100 meters. 

During the 40 minutes I drank 60 ounces of coke.  I remember this really irritating lady telling everyone to eat bananas.  She told me 2 or 3 times while I sat in the crying chair.  When I finally stood up she started yapping at me again about bananas.  I walked over to the table, filled my water bottle, and grabbed a banana for the trail.  I ate that damn banana.  Turns out bananas have magical powers – I WAS RUNNING! 

I soon as I swallowed the last bite of banana the nausea was gone and the cramping never returned.  I felt energized for the first time in a long while.  An irritating banana lady and a coke - both small miracles with a major impact.

When I reached Mountain I felt like a super star.  I was standing – not sitting at the aid station.  Talking to the volunteers, and wishing runners well.  A complete and total transformation.  Guess who was at Mountain?  That damn banana lady.  I made her day when I thanked her for the banana advice.  I never did see her again.  While at Mountain I stuck with the miracle cure.  20 ounces of coke, fill the bottle with water, and a banana for the trail.  It’s a recipe I stuck with for the next 43 miles.

I left Mountain running as well as I did in the beginning.  Only happy thoughts.  5 downhill miles to Harbach Park (Custer SD).  Surely Byron and Erin will be there.  I cruised into the aid station.  Two ladies said people were looking for me.  More happy thoughts – help is nearby!  I will not be defeated at Custer’s Last Stand. 

The sun was beginning to set at Harbach Park.  I was way behind the planned schedule.  As an afterthought I had placed a flashlight in the Harbach Park drop bag, knowing I would not use it.  Was the flashlight a crazy idea with no purpose or another small miracle? 

I left Harbach Park with my banana and flashlight in hand.  I believed I would crush the 24 hour cut-off.  The trail is meant for night running.  It is smooth, wide, no rocks, no roots, no ruts.  While there was no moon to be seen the stars were magnificent.  Several times I was compelled to stop running and gaze upward at the wonderment of the universe.  For the longest time I thought there was a patch of light cloud cover.  I finally realized what I had mistaken for clouds was actually the Milky Way.  This moment on the trail was worth all of the afternoon’s the pain and suffering. 

Somewhere on a lonely stretch of dark trail I see a headlamp coming towards me.  I must be delirious.  I hear a lunatic riding a bicycle shouting T-Roy!!!  Where in the hell did he get a bike?!  Byron you will never know how awesome a feeling it was to see a happy face and hear a friendly voice.  Byron filled me with great stories on how well Kevin, Greg, and Drum did and told me about all the folks in TX following the gang’s progress.  It was truly an inspirational moment.   After a few minutes of running Byron and I made it to the Carroll Creek aid station.  Erin is standing there with a big happy face smile, gives me a giant hug, and asks how I’m doing.  I told Erin, “I would be crying right now if I had any fluid left in my body.”   Erin, as I’m writing this on the flight back to DC I’m actually shedding tears.  Thank you so very much for being there.

For a blonde – Erin has some brains.  She snatched my drop bag from Pringle and brought it with them during their search for me.  My head lamp and FRESH SHOES!  Major league happy thoughts now.  While I was hugging Erin, Byron is running around getting me a chair, telling me to sit down, pulling of the shoes, and getting the FRESH SHOES on.  How great is that for a crew?!  After another 20 ounces of coke and an I love you to Erin and Byron, I was back on the trail – banana in hand!

Only 30 or more miles to go.

There are no witnesses and I’ve been told that somewhere between Carroll and Pringle I saw two full moons on a moonless night.  Small miracle or emerging porn star?

Next stop is Pringle.  I have been doing really well for the past 20 miles.  I feel like the pace has picked up.  I’m actually going by road kill instead of being run over.  Mindful of my earlier lesson I do my best to make sure the other runners in the brotherhood are OK before moving on.  Erin and Byron have the routine down pat.  Fill bottle with ice and coke, when empty fill with water, lift ass out of chair, place banana in hand.  Byron tells me the rest of the TX gang will be waiting for me at Argyle.  Another emotional boost!  I now know I own this race, I will finish, and I will damn well do it RUNNING!

This time when I see the headlamp I know Byron has found another bike.  Very exciting to have company again!  I let him know I need my stash of Icy Hot.  The knees and legs have finally had enough.  I just need to coax a little more work out of the toothpicks.  Byron rides ahead and has a chair waiting with the Icy Hot.  Right away he starts rubbing down the legs.  A coke magically appears in my hands.  Byron looks at Erin and says, “You’re the massage therapist you should be doing this.”  In an instant Erin is on her knees working my legs.  “Do your legs always feel like this?” she asks.  The best response I can manage after 76 miles is a palms up - dumb ass grin.  I can’t even remember what happened two minutes earlier let alone what lumps and bumps might exist in muscle tissue.  The quick leg massage lessened the oncoming pain.  Next thing I know I’m on my feet with banana in hand.

The next two stops are under 4 miles each.  Why I find this motivating is beyond me.  Nevertheless I take off and run some of the fastest miles of the day.  I over thought the short distance to the Lime Kiln (a.k.a Key Lime Pie by Byron and Erin) aid station.  I started to worry about what a large consumption of bananas was going to do to my intestines.  How many bananas can a person eat and still survive?  At Key Lime Pie I decided to forgo the banana.  I chugged a coke, drank some chicken broth and headed out to Argyle.  Passing on the banana turned out to be a mistake.  It didn’t take long for the stomach to start turning over again.  I reached for my supply of papaya tabs and kept moving.  By now Byron’s mantra, “Forward progress, keep moving!” is forever imprinted on my brain.  I just kept saying forward progress keep moving over and over.  Eventually I made it to Argyle. 

Just before Argyle the legs were beginning to revolt for a second time.  Erin jumped in again and rubbed down the legs.  I stood up and the legs felt much better.  Erin’s magic hands made sure this massage treatment would last to the end.  The dreaded Argyle road was next.  A twisty, hilly, gravel coated monster.  I left the aid station in good spirits.  Only 16ish miles remained, I was certain the TX gang would arrive soon, and I had a banana in hand. 

As soon as I turned onto Argyle road guess who I found?  The TX gang!  More motivation, more pep talks, happy faces, and picture taking.  I’m going to kill this road.   This is my last trek to run solo.  At the Morph station Byron joins me for the final 10ish miles.  The man can talk.  I only had to be with him for 10 miles.  I can’t imagine 58 hours in a car with him.  Erin, how did you do it?  People will want to know your secret!  Truthfully, the constant positive banter and conversation took my mind off the run.  I was able to maintain forward progress and keep moving without having to concentrate on running.  I felt like I was on an easy Saturday morning run from the club with a couple of RAW runners. 

One aid station left before the finish.   I am running out of my mind.  I must have been because I just kept running.  I blew through the Coldbrook stop with the TX gang just standing there watching.   Byron stopped to fill my water bottle, ran back to join me and we knocked out the final 4 miles.  What a great feeling knowing the end was at hand.   

Erin jumped down on the bike path for the final 50 yards to the finish.  Having Byron and Erin finish with me was important.  They had sacrificed in order for me to succeed.  I do not believe it is a debt that I can ever repay. 

After the finish.  It's all good now.

While I am thrilled to have finished, it is not the finish I care about.  Somewhere out there on a desolate trail in South Dakota I found a lost piece of myself.  The struggle had to be so great that it forced me to look deeper into my soul than ever before.  The challenge within was by far more difficult to accept and overcome than the physical challenge of the run.  Hopefully I’m a better person for having survived the experience.          

  

  

Head - Personality - Heart October 2010

Head, Personality, and Heart

By T-Roy “Trackie/Tadpole” Pruett

From time to time I like to spend time considering running quotations.  There are several funny, inspirational, and contemplative favorites.  I like this one from Hal Higdon when I’m asked what it is like to go from a 5K to a marathon, "The difference between the mile and the marathon is the difference between burning your fingers with a match and being slowly roasted over hot coals."  I can relate to this.  Question is why?  I like the realist approach provided by Gene Thibeault, "If you start to feel good don't worry, you will get over it." I’ve been there a few times myself.  I also think Rod Dixon would have been a perfect fit for RAW, “I just want to drink beer and train like an animal.”  I think of Rod about half way through any track session.

During the Steamtown Marathon in October I found myself at the start line thinking about head, personality, and heart.  Mike Fanelli’s quote, "Divide the race into thirds. Run the first part with your head, the middle part with your personality, and the last part with your heart," is a longtime favorite.  

I set my sights on a marathon PR at Steamtown after an awesome half marathon performance at Fontana CA in May.  Right after registration I rolled my left ankle.  The injury coupled with already worsening pain in the heel resulted in terrible summer training.  For a marathon PR attempt I would need to run 80-90 miles a week and several two-a-days during the week.  Week after week I cycled up and down the mileage chart trying to find the sweet spot for my ankle.  In the end I averaged about 40 miles per week with long runs ending at or before 18.  Each run became a tutorial in pain management.  Pain scale of 4:  Great run, 5-6:  OK run and glad to have been able to finish, 8:  Hope I don’t have to far to walk back.

Many thought I was nuts (myself included) for going to Steamtown.  I knew it would hurt at some point but hoped the down time during the taper would give me a few extra not so painful miles.  So there I am at the start line on a beautiful running day, pain level 3, and I hear someone a couple rows back say, “It’s all about heart at the finish.” I stopped thinking about how much this is going to hurt and started thinking about head, personality, and heart.   

Head.  I knew I needed a smart 10-11 miles.  Steamtown is a net downhill course and I was concerned the stress from the downgrade would wreak ankle havoc early.  Beveled road edges were a problem so running near the center and missing the tangents would help.  Finally I hoped that altering stride length and foot strikes would buy me a couple of miles.  The plan worked until the half and the pain scale started to rise. 

Personality.   I knew I looked like crap, it was a long way to go, and there really were some long climbs at the end.   Telling it like it is just wasn’t going to cut it this time (Note to reader:  I still enjoy the verbal harassment by the RAW Nation).  Luckily Steamtown has really great crowd support and I was smart enough to wear my tie-dye outfit.  I truly appreciated the smiles, cheers, and “love the outfit” comments.  I found myself drifting towards the edges, making eye contact, smiling, hand slapping, and waving at the spectators.  I even barked at a few dogs.  Thankfully, for more times than I can remember, these brief personal connections were enough to let me forget about the pain and keep running. 

Heart.  In spite of the positive outreach effort, the pain just kept coming.  At mile 20 the pain scale was up to 7.  Sometimes there just are not enough “looking goods” to help.  It’s all about heart for the final marathon miles.  Looking deep inside to find yourself and what you can give.  Understanding you have been there before during many days of training.  Knowing you have the ability and will to survive the worst.  Finishing this marathon without walking now meant more to me than completing any event I have ever done.  

I climbed the last set of hills in agony, grimacing with every step.  I ran across the finish line a teary eyed snot dripping mouth drooling hobbling goblin of a freak.  Proud to know I ran with my head, ran with personality, and emptied my heart.   

(PS:  Tired of limping through runs, I finally went to a surgeon in late November.    While cutting maybe the eventual solution the doctor and I agreed to non-blood generating treatments first.  No running then reduced running, wearing a splint several hours a day, custom inserts, stretching plans, and magic pills.  In the meantime this rather long tadpole is learning to become one with the water. )

Ultra-ROCK-thon August 2011

Ultra-ROCK-Thon

Troy “WJ” Pruett

Catoctin 50K in Frederick MD is TOUGH!  I apologize for the quality of the document; I’m still seeing ROCKS everywhere! Let’s set aside the upper 90’s temperature and the ridiculous humidity.  Let’s say I ran this ROCK ball buster on a cool 45 degree day.  Still a bruiser! 

All this time I thought the race director was being dramatic, just like the trackie book club ROCK.  I thought the website’s half-truths were funny.   It didn’t take long to figure out he ROCK writes with a poison quill.  There is a big sign when you arrive, “No hydration pack – No number.”  Uh-oh, sounds like trouble.  Then I get the shirt, “Rock the Rocks.”  Uh-oh, why does the shirt glorify rocks?  Before the race I have a nice chat with a guy running the event for the 12th time.  He says, “Be very cautious and conservative until you finish the ROCK climb after the turn.  This is a very difficult course.  Add at least 2 hours to your best 50K time.”   Hey, this is Maryland, how hard can it be.  After all I did ROCK Jemez.  

Can you find a ROCK in this picture?

Of the 31 plus miles, I’d put money on 25 of it being run on ROCKS.  Rocks of every shape, size, and sharpness.  So many many many rocks.  Rocks to the left, right, top, and bottom.  Before I left I grabbed a rock from the mountain.  If anyone decides they want to do this event come get my rock and beat yourself in the head with the darn thing.  Then stand on the rock in a sauna for 7 hours.  Only then should you register for the event.

Some advice to friends and enemies:  (1) If I’m doing an event under no ROCK circumstance should you register until you have fully researched the race.  I’m notorious for registering simply because, “I don’t have the state yet.”  As a result ROCK I’ve done a few really nasty trail runs.  (2) Never do a marathon in the summer, unless it is in the Arctic ROCK Circle or Antarctica.  (3) Do not make Catoctin your 3^rd ultra of the month.  When will I learn?

I must give props to the race director and support teams.  ROCK They were fantastic in all respects.  And the ROCK race fee is only $25 without the shirt.  So ROCK cheap I donated the normal fee difference to a local charity sponsored by the race.  These folks were truly appreciative of the runners and treated us like royalty ROCK.  You also get this cool card for officially approved bragging rights! 

You can start admiring me anytime now!  I ROCK!

I recently started ROCK posting runs on Daily Mile.  This is a really supportive online ROCK runner’s community.  I found a couple other runners that were doing the Catoctin 50K and we started posting encouraging feedback several times a week ROCK (I know, not like the WJ at all.  If it helps, the trackies that are on Daily Mile are not spared.)  It was a riot finally meeting  Lara and Erika ROCK at the race.

I can’t say where I placed and I really don’t care.  The time was 7 hours 15 minutes ROCK, give or take.  The vast amount of rocks makes the course extremely technical and challenging.  The heat, humidity and elevation changes (over 5200 feet of gain) add difficulty.  Easily a 9 on the hardness scale.  Over the ROCK summer I’ve improved greatly on my trail running skills.  A couple years ago I would slow at every challenging section and chop my stride.  Unsure of the best way to get past an obstacle or tricky passage.  These days I take a much ROCK more aggressive approach and speed through some of the toughest trail sections.  During the out-bound run at Catoctin I easily maneuvered over very difficult trail.  Once the effects of heat and dehydration kicked in on the return my mind would see the path but the legs could just not react quickly enough.  Being fatigued compounded the level of difficulty because I kept missing foot placements.  In the end I mostly walked the final 5-6 miles.  This flatlander finished very satisfied with his ROCK performance and pleased to add another confidence booster to the list.  

Runners R Nuts - July 2011

Runners R Nuts!

Troy Pruett

During the Bernheim Marathon it came to me that runners, especially marathon runners, are absolutely nuts.  I used to think those that sat on their ass eating fried chicken and ice cream; adding a pound a week to the waistline, were deficient.  If only they became one with the joy of running then somehow all would be right with the world.

Insanity is characterized by abnormal mental or behavioral patterns and may manifest as violations of societal norms, including becoming a danger to oneself.  A person suffers from idiocy if they are mentally deficient or act in a self-defeating or counterproductive way.  Any of this ringing your bell?

About 0.15% (0.0015) of the U.S. population has finished a marathon.  I imagine 100% of the population has chowed-down on a piece of KFC and more importantly, experienced brain freeze from eating ice cream too fast.  Clearly running a marathon is a violation of societal norms.  Who are the crazies?

I’m still looking for the stats, but I’m wondering how many folks regained their sanity and never ran another marathon.  I’m guessing about 99.99% of those that finished one marathon never considered a second marathon.  You belong in the Saturday morning line-up to run three or more (keep with me people – loony tunes).  Shouldn’t you be embarrassed to admit double-digit marathons?  No wonder so many “non-runners” start looking for exit signs when anyone mentions they have run several marathons – they’re in the company of a psychopath and are afraid for their lives!

Good news is that you can find a list of the worst insane-o-macs for free.  Just check out the 50 states or marathon maniacs’ websites.  Full of nut jobs too far gone to realize they have a problem.  Imagine how the normal people feel to find out a running club exists in their community.  An actual gang of loonie-tunes running through their neighborhoods and parks.  Someone needs to think of the children! 

Not so fast you say?  Unfair treatment?  Where is my sense of acceptance in the diversity of others?  Well, all I ask is that you ponder your reality:

1.       Who in their right mind decides to run a marathon in 100 degree weather?  I’ll tell you, people acting in counterproductive ways.  Ever wonder why you fade during a hot run?  It’s you being a danger to yourself.

2.       Who gets back from a run and says it sure is hot, or cold, or windy out there today?  Did you have to run to figure this out?  Turn on the Weather Channel for Pete’s sake! 

3.       The first time you complete a marathon it hurts for days.  Can’t walk, can’t squat on the toilet, and can’t go down stairs.  What do you do – another marathon because you think it must get better.  NEWS ALERT:  It doesn’t!  If you are addicted to pain there are many short-cuts.  Shake a bee hive, kick a rabid dog, jump in the lion’s den at the zoo, all are good.  

4.       It’s only street runners that are insane.  Trail running is so much better.  Really?  I mean REALLY?  Trip, fall, break a leg (better?).  Trip, fall, scrape both knees and suffer through clothes sticking on oozing scabs for weeks (better?).  Tick bite leads to spotted fever (better?).  Tree limb pokes out eye (better?).  Impaled on tree stump (better?).  Then there is the whole arachnid issue – YIKES!

5.       Trail running is better because some events are at night.  Trail running at night leads to:  making love to a tree, free falling off the ridge, swimming in the river, and lots of “walking” at night. 

6.       Who collects lost toe nails for jewelry?  It’s what’s wrong with America, runners placing their trust in a necklace made of nasty torn-off toe nails and not their elected officials.  Take your nasty nails to the voter’s booth.  Maybe we will have better representatives.

7.       If you will not wear it to the mall then why do you wear it on a public sidewalk?  I’ll tell you:  mental deficiency.  Better yet, just wear more of something… please.  I really don’t need to repeat the muscular-skeletal biology lecture every weekend.

8.       What’s better than an insane runner?  An insane running alcoholic.  You know who you are and I’m tired of your lameness.  Drinking club with a running problem my ass.  Run to the point of severe dehydration and chug three beers.  That’s an acceptable societal norm?  Four beers in ten minutes.  Yes, you did run a mile, so that makes it completely acceptable!?

9.       Any idea how many beers you can buy for the price of a pair of shoes?   What normal person spends $500 on running shoes each year?  Why that’s almost 370 bottles of beer (1 for each day).

10.   Don’t drink beer?  Throw in all the crazy entry fees, electrolytes, GU’s, massages, running clothes, transportation, reading material, and pain killers and that makes for about 370 bottles of wine (1 for each day).  Quit running and drink more, the world will be a happier place.    

11.   Only a bipolar numb-skull gets up before 5 a.m. to run.  Running in the middle of the night screws up the body’s natural bio-rhythm.  A word of advice:  SLEEP, it’s what a person is meant to do.  If you are getting up before 5 a.m. make it worthwhile and burn calories between the sheets.   

12.   The only thing that violates societal norms more than running a marathon is the triathlete (aka sadist).  The only gratification they can achieve is through their perversion of self-inflicted physical and mental pain.  There should be a special island for these beyond treatment nut jobs.   

13.   The true measure of how crazy you are is the ability to convince others to do equally stupid stuff.  Drum must be at the extreme edge, after all she managed to get way to many idiots to run 3 mountains in 3 days and run a perfectly good trail, wait for it, in the dark.

14.   How about the trackies?  A whole crew of insane people.  This one is really too easy.  Only lunatics wait until it’s 100 degrees (120 at track level) to run as many laps as they can as fast as they can.   

15.   What about the wussie judge (WJ)?  A mastermind or Charles Manson?  This running lunatic managed to get dozens of mentally challenged people to walk away from the true path and into schizophrenia.  1o-Kers and joggers are so easy to manipulate.

16.   Ultrarunner equals ULTRASTUPID.

17.   Run more miles in a day than your commute to work?  This is a crazy person warning sign.

18.   There are several obsessive compulsive crazies.  They have elaborate spreadsheets to track the exact number of miles run in their last 100 pairs of running shoes.

19.   Find yourself smiling to see a porta-john on a long run?  Remember when you thought porta-johns were nasty and avoided them like the plague? 

20.   Ever spend hours listening to a self-defeating runner describe every injury they have (tendonitis, fasciitis, broken bone, sprains, torn muscles, etc…)?  What did you see them doing 10 minutes later?  Running.   Why were they running?  Because they are an idiot!

All normalcies aside, I love running.  Running fills my inner strength.  Running puts my soul at peace.  Running makes me one with my surroundings.  And yes, running makes me crazy!   

Trail PHD - May 2011

How to Earn a Trail Runner PhD

Troy Pruett

There are three parts to the Trailer Runner PhD:  Pain, humiliation and determination.

Not too long ago Drum (aka Michelle) sent me an e-mail asking about which events I planned to do over the late spring and summer.  I innocently responded that I was “CONSIDERING” the Jemez New Mexico 50k and the Chattanooga 3-day mountain stage run.  Right away she sends a text, “I’m registered for Jemez.”  Warning to self and others: Drum does not consider anything, is very impulsive, and will say yes to anything involving a mountain.  Not to be out done by a wussie judge in training (WJIT), I reluctantly registered for Jemez.

What do we all do “after” registering for an event?  Read about the course.  Does anyone really do homework before committing funds?   The Jemez race reports and blogs are terrifying.  The course is compared to the big hitters Leadville, Bandera, Western States and a couple other nightmares.  Phrases like extremely technical, aggressive elevation gains, high altitude, poisonous snakes and animals that will eat you are frequently mentioned.  Drum tells me the next week that she convinced Beth to register and they are both really excited.  Me, I’m thinking dumb blondes don’t know any better and I’m old enough to know better. 

How does a flatlander train for Jemez?  Trick question, you can’t.  Instead I did an eight-week work-up for Eugene and ran the marathon in under 3 hours.  I then put in two 40-plus mile weeks and went to Jemez.  I stupidly thought I could run the course in 6 hours.  In retrospect there is a way for a flatlander to train for Jemez.  Step 1:  put two cinder blocks under the front end of the treadmill.  Step 2:  Increase the grade to the maximum setting.  You have now equaled the easiest mountain on the course.  Step 3:  Set the speed for 15 minutes/mile.  Step 4:  Insert snorkel into mouth.  Step 5:  Go for 90 minutes.   Think you can beat Jemez?  Good luck.

 I earned my “P in pain” about 5 miles into the run.  I broke a couple of cardinal rules of trail running.  Always stay focused on the trail and never cross your legs.  I’m positive I crossed my left leg over the right.  The left knee hit the rocks first, followed by my torso and hands in a desert thorn bush.  Blood trickled from at least a dozen locations and my right thumb had turned purple.  As I approached each aid station the very supportive volunteers always asked, “Are you alright?  Can you still run?  Would you like us to clean up your knee?”  Each time I responded, “No way, I look like a bad-ass now!”  One volunteer responded, “Yes, your tye-dye shorts really support the bad-ass look!”

The high altitude causes delirium.  It’s the only reason I can explain the picture demonstrating that alternate universes exist.  How else can you explain the Future Troy and Today Troy together at the same point in time? 

It didn’t take much longer to lose my bad-assedness.  I earned my “H in humility” around mile 20.  After going up three mountains and with a couple major climbs left to go I became reverential and submitted to the mountain.  At this very moment I saw Beth and Drum smiling at me as we crossed paths on the trail.  The only thing I could think to say was, “I am soooooo sorry.”  As dumb blondes would have it, they both appeared happy and were still excited about finishing the run. 

After three more solid climbs I reached the beginning of the desolation zone, a five mile downhill trek through a waste land of fallen trees and rubble.  I earned my “D in determination” about two miles in.  My quads were shot, the sun beat down on my head, my stomach ached, I was all alone and I kept hearing rattlesnakes (well at least one).  This was the longest run/walk to the finish I have ever experienced.  After 29 miles there was no way this course would win.

Is Jemez really that hard?  YES!  Not that I’m a proficient trail runner (just a PhD), but I have done trail marathons or better in Wilmington Delaware, Capon Valley West Virginia, Tuscaloosa Alabama, Huntsville Park in Texas, Sylamore in Arkansas, and the Laurel Highlands in Pennsylvania.  Jemez easily scores a 10 for the extreme technical surface, altitude, elevation gains and miles of half-track course.  By comparison, the North Shore trail ranks about a 3. 

What are you waiting for?  Register today!