2014 Umstead Marathon report

The first weekend in March is bittersweet.  The days are getting longer, the air is warming but not yet too hot...and it means I'll have to start cutting my grass again soon.  More happily, it also means the Umstead Marathon is upon us yet again.  This race is nothing short of the best marathon in the world - comprising the best park in Central North Carolina; a challenging but reasonable course; dedicated, detail-oriented organizers; enthusiastic, friendly volunteers and talented runners who don't act like they're talented.

This was to be my fifth marathon, and my fourth Umstead. I really have no business running in this event, but I felt some serious regret in 2012 when I skipped it.  So, no matter the poor shape of my legs and cardiovascular system (and conversely well-trained liver), I sat by my keyboard as registration opened in early November and was one of the first to sign up.

I have no race photos.  This would be a even more boring post with no pictures.  Here's a bouncy house.

Training was decent November through January, logging about 110 miles a month.  Work travel and fermented barley led to a 55 mile February, but come race day I felt OK despite not doing a long run over 16 miles.

We were granted nearly perfect weather on race day.  Right around freezing at the start, rising to the low 50s by early afternoon with some good cloud cover.  The usual pre-race festivities took place - people congregating by the fire in the lodge, the race director reading the names of several people who have participated in all 11 Umstead Marathons, and runners making several trips to the port-o-johns.

From here I'll divide my report into five equal pieces.

Miles 0-6, 1:03:14

About five miles of this is single track.  Last year I went out too "fast" (9:30 min/mile) and I paid for it later.  That was my first race on this new harder course, which had significantly more single track and I tried too hard to stick to a 10 minute pace.  This time, I laid back and didn't push it.  I even took a restroom break at about 5.5 miles - three pre-race portajohn visits apparently weren't enough.  I felt good, except for some groin issues that were new.

William B. Umstead does not approve of so many portajohn references

Miles 6-12, 2:02:47

After exiting single track for good at mile 8, most of the course is gentle downhill until mile 12.  I was still taking it pretty easy.  I got a bloody nose.  Only the second of my life unless you count the ones from people punching me.

Miles 12-18, 3:06:57

This section gives us the worst of Turkey Creek Trail.  The uphills hurt and slow you down.  The downhills tempt you to make up time, punishing your quads.  The only relief is the wonderful Paradise aid station.  I start "speedwalking" the steeper uphill sections around mile 16 or so as the pre-twinge of calf cramps set in.  I'm sure this is pure coincidence that this is also the longest training run I did.

Miles 18-24, 4:22:12

...and the wheels start to fall off.  This is easily the most difficult part of the course, and not just because it's near the end.  There are the well-documented horrors of the Corkscrew and Cedar Ridge, 2 miles of nasty steep uphill.  But even worse is The Sneaky Bastard.  This section starts right at mile 18 and is over a mile and a half of nearly constant, gentle incline.  It's uphill enough that it slows you down, but gentle enough that you don't really notice it and can't figure out why your pace is dropping.  Or at least, this is how I imagine it would be if I was ever in good enough shape to feel normal at this point.  The Sneaky Bastard also saps enough energy to make the two hills mentioned above even more miserable.  I ran-walked this section (or really, walked-ran-walked-r..walked) then was saved by the Reedy Creek aid station, where the wonderful volunteers plied me with Fritos and their own private stash of Endurolytes to help quench the thirst that wouldn't go away.  I was also fortunate to run into fellow runner Klay Barrow at the aid station, and we chatted for the mile or so run down to the base of the Corkscrew, allowing me to forget my many aches and pains - except when we were talking about our aches and pains.

The less said about the Corkscrew and Cedar Ridge the better.  It took me 14 minutes to go between markers 23 and 24, and I was shattered at this point.

Never mind what I'm doing with that hand in my pocket...(thanks freeracepics.com)

Miles 24-end, 4:49:45

I hobbled to the finish.  Not much to say here.  My inadequate training reared its ugly head here, as my legs were stiff and cramping.  Not a strong way to finish, but I got my pint glass and burrito, so all was good.  21 minutes better than last year, but off my personal best by 6 minutes (that was on an easier course).  I'm sure I had race winner Tim Crews sweating near the end, as he edged me out by a mere 108 minutes.

Recovery

The usual stiffness and soreness took over on Saturday and Sunday, but it nothing too bad.  Until 2am Sunday night, when I was awoken by a very intense pain (worst I've ever had) on my inner left knee.  One of the reasons I chose my wife was her training in sports medicine; she ran downstairs and got me some ice.  I fell asleep icing the knee, while she was unable to go back to sleep.  I'm such an ass.

I was able to go to the climbing gym Tuesday night with no issues, so I'm sure I'll forget the pain from this race and sign up next year.  After all, I only missed a coveted top-15 plaque by 68 minutes or so.  With another lackluster training period next year I'm sure to get one.

Umstead 2013 - Report from the back of the pack

Work bosses:  "Shannon, we need you to go to Japan and Singapore for a couple of weeks."
Me: "Sure, no problem.  Can I plan it so I get back a couple days before the Umstead Marathon so I have an excuse for putting in a bed-shitting performance?"

This was my third Umstead, and I felt the best trained for this of any.  My previous PR was a very pedestrian 4:47, but I was hoping for a 4:20-ish finish this time.  I had been doing all of my long runs at Umstead without specific mileage in mind, just going as far as I could at a 10 minute pace.  During training I was up to 16-20 miles at this pace, and figured I'd just try to hang on during race dayblah blah blah blah....fffffffffftttttttttttttt.

The Wednesday before the race I found myself landing at RDU Wednesday night after a couple of weeks across the Pacific.  The timing was bad, but I decided to suck it up, sleep about 4 hours out of 48 on the double-Wednesday and try to cope that way.  On Thursday I was fine, to bed early and up early.  Only issues were sudden bouts of fatigue and some GI issues.  Hello foreshadowing.

Weather was perfect on Saturday.  Right around freezing before the start, with highs forecasted in the low 50s.  No precip.  The cabin was abuzz with activity pre-race.  It's cold outside, so almost everyone warms themselves by the fire.  This race also seems to have a cult following - the same faces are there year after year and so a lot of catching up takes place.  I don't blame them - this is hands down my favorite running event ever.

This is what pre-race looks like if you are a creepy-looking guy photographing strangers while standing on a table.

So anyway, the race starts, I feel OK, get to the single track and at mile marker 2 I have an overwhelming desire to lay down next to the trail and sleep.  Not a good sign, but this subsides after 20 minutes or so.  I run into bigger problems around mile 6.  Vomit.  Working its way up my esophagus.  I'm at a 9:30 pace at this point, so I'm not overexerting.  I walk up a steep section of single track.  Urge to vomit subsides.  Start to run again.  Vomit in esophagus redux.  Goddammit.

I lose the 10 minute/mile pace at 8 miles, and I'm down to 11 minutes/mile at mile 15.  I'm bitterly disappointed, and have to try hard to talk myself out of quitting at 15.  But it's hard to be pissed off at a race when the other runners are so friendly and the volunteers are so wonderful and enthusiastic.  It pisses me off even more that I can't be pissed off.

The rest of the race is running until nearing vomit status then walking.  I finished in 5:10:51 - my worst of the three Umstead for me.  But, I got a cool pint glass with a ring-necked duck and I have plenty of beer to fill it, so life ain't so bad.

Finisher of both the race and the bottle.  If you look carefully at the bottle, you'll see Lone Rider brewed something very similar to the Peacemaker for me to enjoy post-race.  Based on my time they offered to sponsor me next year.

If you're thinking of signing up for this race, don't.  It sucks.  Really badly.  Also, available slots for the race don't fill up quickly.  If you're not thinking of running this race, it really is the best event I've ever participated in, and it gets better every year.  I plan to run it until 2020, at which time I'll fail to make the 6 hour cutoff if my finishing time trend continues.

A hearty thank you to the race director, volunteers and fellow runners for making this such a great event.  And congrats to Brandon Carter (2:54:01holyshit) and Lorraine Young (3:03:59 courserecordholyshit) for their victories.

Croatan 24 Hour Report

The inaugural Croatan 24 Hour Ultramarathon is in the books.  It was a great race put on by Brandon Wilson, his family and volunteers. 

I'll give the short stat summary here:  I finished with 53.07 miles (22nd out of the 63 that started), reaching 50 miles by 13.75 hours then crashing.  More on that below.  But to back up...

The run took place in the Croatan National Forest, just a couple miles north of the southern tip of Emerald Isle.  74 runners signed up, but only 63 started.  Rumor has it the other 11 got confused and headed to the Croatian National Forest near Zagreb.  The object was to run a loop (slightly less than 1.37 miles) as many times as possible.  It was a pleasant loop - mainly nicely packed dirt with a few wood and aluminum footbridges that spanned the salt marsh.  It was flat except for a couple bridges that gained 10-15 feet of elevation near the middle of the loop.  I can honestly say that the views varied enough (looking out over the waters and running through the woods) that I never got bored with the route.  

At the start point, they had a table of volunteers that registered every lap, an area where we could drop bags of spare clothes, shoes, cyanide tablets and other things you may want in a run like this.  Finally, and most importantly, they had a tent with refreshments (water, Gatorade, coffee, chips, bananas, etc).  The refreshment tent also served lunch (veggie burgers), dinner (pizza) and had hot snacks to deal with the cold night (even veggie broth).  There were lots of veggie options and I didn't have to dip into the bag of stuff I brought.

Me, the naive fool smiling before the run.

Now on to the race report.  I tried hard not to set a mileage target, but I would have been disappointed at less than 50.  Greater forces prevailed, however, and on the ride from the condo we rented to the trailhead, my asshole left brain concocted an 80 mile run plan - 20 laps in the first 6 hours, 20 laps in the next 8 hours and a final 20 laps in the final 10 hours.  My right brain - distracted by glimpses of the sun shining through the pines - went along with the plan.

It being the 237th birthday of the Marine Corps, and with many veterans taking part in the race, there was a birthday party (with cake!) before the race.  I missed most of it as my wife and I put up my tent in case I wanted to get a couple of hours of sleep in during the night.  We were off and running at 8am.  Veterans led the first lap, with Cheryl Yanek (trying to qualify for the Women's National 24-hour team) running ahead to try to hit 120 miles.

5 laps (6.85 miles), 1:16

The first lap went well.  On the second lap, the left side of my groin started to hurt.  My groin and I were very close during my teenage years, but it seems now was the time that it would exact its revenge for years of neglect.  This was short-lived, however, and by the fourth lap I was feeling good again, trying to take it slow and not exceed an 11-ish pace.  So far all was going well.

10 laps (13.7 miles), 2:33

Still on track, but unfortunately my weak October was already starting to rear its ugly head.  I felt a bit of tightness starting to creep in to my quads on the 10th lap.  Also, it was getting warm, and I was wasting time at my drop bag, making sure I kept drinking enough HEED and taking an Endurolyte cap every hour to keep the electrolytes up.

15 laps (20.55 miles), 4:06

I ran the first 10 laps at an 11:10 pace, but the feeling of an unquenchable thirst was already setting in, a most unwelcome feeling that I get all the time during long runs in the summer.  I hate this feeling, and didn't expect it with temperatures not going much above 70F.  I walked lap 14, giving me a 13:35 pace for the last 5 laps.  I was enjoying myself a bit more, though, talking with various people.  It will surprise nobody who has run an ultramarathon that everyone I spoke to was extremely friendly and supportive - from the slowest to the fastest folks out there.

20 laps (27.4 miles), 5:59

I just did an ultra marathon, but holy hell.  For some reason, this felt worse than the Umstead marathons I've run before.  I was sweating more than expected, and felt nauseous.  This feeling stuck with me for a couple hours, but I figured it was par for the course and I just had to deal with it.  I ate a lot, drank a lot of water and Gatorade and took some Endurolytes.

25 laps (34.24 miles), 7:59

Still on pace for the left brain 80 mile plan, but just barely, and I pretty much felt like shit the whole time.  The last five laps were done at a 17:40 pace.  I walked almost all of this, and started to realize how quickly stops at the drop bag add up.  My groin flared up on lap 24 when I started to try to run, so I felt like walking for awhile was my best option.  I probably wasted an average of 2-3 minutes each lap, eating, drinking, looking for something, etc.  I changed from my Nike Frees to some older, more cushioned shoes to make it easier on my feet during the walk around lap 22.  This was a mistake - I got a blister from the old shoes within 3 laps and changed back after 25.  I still had both my sense of humor and nausea at this point.  Usually my humor makes others nauseous so this seems fitting.  A cool breeze started to blow here, which was really welcomed.  I also saw the men/women being separated from the girls/boys here.  A handful of runners were still going at a pretty good clip and looked like they had just started.

33 laps (45.2 miles), 11:44

I didn't record the 30 lap time, mainly because cognitive function was starting to take a hit.  A lot happened during these 8 laps.  First, I was overjoyed to see Tiffany (my wife) at the close of lap 26.  She told me I looked good, and that she was going to run an errand and meet me in an hour.  The bout of nausea was subsiding and I was cooling off.  I walked the next couple of laps pretty quickly as darkness fell.  At the end of lap 29 I put on a long sleeve shirt, ate some pizza and walked a couple laps with Tiffany.  My legs hurt - but it was just muscle soreness - no joint pain.  At the end of lap 31, the muscle soreness subsided a little and the nausea was complete gone...I felt better than I had in probably 6 or 7 hours.  Tiffany left to go get some dinner.  It was cooling off quickly, so I switched into long pants and put on a fleece.  I felt so good that I ran considerable portions of laps 32 and 33.  This, I believe, was my downfall.  The soreness came back quickly, forcing me to walk.  While walking, the slight breeze was enough to evaporate the sweat and cause some pretty nasty chills.

37 laps (50.68 miles), 13:45

34-36 were hell.  Legs hurt.  Could. Not. Get. Warm.  I had long pants, two shirts, a fleece and a wool hat on.  It was only 40 degrees, but I was shivering.  Normally in 40 degree weather I run in shorts and a long sleeve shirt.  I tried drinking coffee, vegetable broth and eating, but nothing seemed to help.  This caused the nausea to return.  I have to thank Ray Krolewicz, a guy who's run countless ultras, for walking a lap or two with me here to take my mind off of things.  A really positive, energetic guy who put up 70+ miles at the age of 57.  He once held the 48 hour world record - but he'd never tell you this - I found this out from other runners.  Tiff rejoined me for lap 37, and I decided to take a break.  I was really worried about my temperature, and decided to forgo the tent for a warm night at the condo.

My wife was awesome here.  She had gone out an gotten Epsom salts for me to soak in, and they really felt great!  I still couldn't get warm in the bath, however, and crawled into bed, hoping to wake up at 3am and get some more miles.

Basically, at 3am I was still freezing, and could barely move my legs - in fact, I didn't feel warm again until late Sunday night.  To make a long story short, I got out of bed at 6:15, and it took me 45 minutes (!) to get dressed. I drove back to the race, realized I didn't get any photos the previous day, and hobbled around the loop for 45 minutes taking a few photos to tack on a bit more distance, finishing with 53.08 miles.  I'll take it for my first marathon+ distance.

Some views from the loop

Just to call out a couple of amazing performances:

The men's winner was a 22 year old (ex?) Marine, JJ Jehangir who logged over 109 miles!  Jason LeDoyen (candidate for World's Nicest Person), who I had the fortune to speak with a few times and lives in the Triangle, finished with over 100 miles.  Cheryl Yanek didn't reach 120, but fought through a rough race to finish first female with over 104 miles.  Wow.  And perhaps most impressive was Walt Esser, a 74-year-old who did over 80 (!!!!!!) miles.  Goddam.

In my preview, I outlined a few goals.  How did I match up?

 Complete at least 50 miles, with a stretch goal to keep moving the entire time  Win!  and Fail!

 Avoid bleeding due to chafing or falling  Body Glide was awesome.  Absolutely no chafing or bleeding.  Other than a couple water blisters, my skin was unscathed.  I do feel sorry for Tiffany who happened to walk into the room while I was applying Bodyglide to the area between my buttocks.  She was certainly most negatively affected by the race.  I don't think she's eaten since Saturday

 Hallucinate at least four times  Didn't happen.  Got too much sleep.

 Maintain fluency in English, mainly to complain about my self-inflicted situation  Check!

 Avoid sleeping  Epic fail.

 Remain married after my long-suffering wife supports me all night...despite smelling like a locker room, farting with reckless abandon and asking for favors with a whiny whiny voice  Tiffany was AWESOME!!!  Gave up her weekend to take care of me, and did a great job.  Very supportive, and even let me lounge around the house on Sunday evening nursing my legs.

 Count how many times I claim "I'll never do this again," then see how long until I sign up for another one of these.  Didn't happen.  At no point was I not having fun, even if I did feel like shit.  I'd love to do this race again next year.  I also realized that I will not be a regular ultramarathon runner for the next few years.  For me to be even half-way decent I'd have to take too much time away from family, work and other things I'm interested in.  I'd like to do one or so a year, though.

First Night Run

To prepare for my upcoming 24 hour run in November, I figured it was time for a night run to see how my body dealt with fatigue and running in little light. 

After work on Friday a couple of weeks ago, I went home, made dinner and packed some water and snacks.  At 10pm I left for a well-known park in the Raleigh area.  I planned to go for four hours, but cut it short after 13 miles due to a turned ankle.  There were pros and cons to doing the long run at night.

Pros:

This was a great twist on a long run and broke the recent monotony of long runs.

It cut into prime beer drinking time, so I felt great Saturday morning

I had the whole park to myself

Cons:

It's hard to tell debris from horse poop at night without a headlamp

Horsepoop on your shoes makes them slippery

It's hard to see ruts in the bridle paths due to recent heavy rains

When you step in these ruts you can twist your ankle pretty badly

Running on smelly twisted ankles sucks.

The Beer Mile

There's three posts I haven't got around to writing yet, but I got a really distracting e-mail from my college friend Luth today that pushed them all to the side.  The Beer Mile.  You simply run four quarter mile laps around a track.  Oh, and you have to drink a 12 oz can of beer (at least 5% alcohol by volume, thank you very much) before each lap.  Add a penalty lap (with no extra beer) for vomiting.

The world record is 5:09.  All I have to do is be able to chug the four beers in negative 82 seconds and the record is mine!

Recently, Olympian Nick Symmonds gave the record a shot.  Here's the link to the story.

Might be fun just to see what my time would be...

Hmm...

Update from the Inner Ring of the Seventh Circle of Hell

Six days in a row of 100+ degree heat, and nine total already this year.  Awesome.  I've been annoying the hell out of my wife, sending her 7-day forecasts for Portland, Oregon; Stanley, Idaho and Cork, Ireland (our old stomping grounds).  Lots of highs of 60s and 70s in the hopper, in case you're wondering. 

The view from Turkey Creek Trail, July 8

In between my pissing, moaning and general grumpiness, I have been pretty good at getting up early to get some miles in.  I logged 73 in June despite an 11 day work/climb trip to Europe, and have 32 in the bag so far in July.  The last two long runs - a 15 miler July 1 and a 7 miler on the 8th (took it easy due to a tender foot) were absolutely miserable.  If I ever become nostalgic for runs in this weather, I'll just slather myself in molasses, shroud myself in an electric blanket, and have at the trails.  I'll bring along a friend to shoot me with a BB gun to simulate the horse flies.

Is it October yet?

Philosopher's Way 15k Trail Run "Race" Report - May 5, 2012

Well, apologies if you took me with a 45 second advantage over 2010 Shannon.  He kicked my ass today.  What follows is a (hopefully) brief "race" report.

I planned to leave the house with plenty of time to spare before the start, but realized as I was leaving that I left my shoes at work.  Oops.  This unplanned detour meant that I arrived about 3 minutes before the start.  Perfect timing! 

The race started fine - I started nearer the front of the pack than I did two years ago, and avoided much of the slowdown where the gravel road transitions to the footpath, creating a bottleneck of runners.  I did get stuck behind a group of 6 or 7 runners who seemed to slow down as they went downhill.  This can be seen as a smart move, ensuring good footing early in the race to avoid falling.  I am not encumbered by that sort of intellect and like to use gravity to my advantage and gain speed on the downhills.  I should note that this strategy has paid off in the form of many faceplants at Umstead Park, but I learn slowly.

After about a mile and a half, I passed this group and was by myself on the trail for a bit.  I soon reached the first aid station (at 18 minutes, which I think was a bit further than the advertised 1.7 miles). 

Ten minutes later, I was gripped by a sudden wave of nausea, and instantly felt like I had to throw up.  I didn't think this was due to increased effort - it didn't "feel" like that - but it did subside with a bout of walking.  To make a long story short, the rest of the race for me was dictated by the nausea.  Running to the brink of vomiting, then walking.  Energy gels and water seemed to make it worse.

This was the first time something like this happened to me, and I can only think of two explanations.

#1 - "The internal organ as a puppy" hypothesis. 
I had only one beer in the previous 4 days.  This left my liver with a lot of free time.  In the context of this hypothesis, a bored liver (like a bored puppy) is bad and will get itself into trouble.  It follows that my bored liver released a creative cocktail of hormones to the rest of my body, which did not react well.  I rate this hypothesis as slighly unlikely.

My liver, metaphorically. 

#2 - "The how the hell are we hitting the 90s in early May?!?" hypothesis. 
I simply haven't had time to acclimate to the combination of high humidity and race time temperatures in the high 70s.  Of course, this doesn't explain why none of the other 500 runners seemed to have this problem.  I suppose being in pretty crappy shape may have also played some role.  A good lesson for me.

I finished the 15k in 1:40:39 (by my watch), which is incredibly disappointing against what I was expecting - I lost by about 8 minutes to 2010 Shannon.  Regardless, it was good to participate in my first race in over a year.  It is both inspiring and motivating to be around a group of such good runners.  And the Trailheads put on a great race.  I'll be back next year.

Photo of me during the race.  Face blurred for your viewing pleasure.  I poached this from Michael Kelley's dropbox gallery - thanks Michael!

2012 Philosopher's Way Trail Runs 15k Preview - The Race of Two Shannons

Tomorrow is the Philosopher's Way Trail Run in the Carolina North Forest.  This is a great race put on by the Trailheads.  I don't know much about this organization, except they appear to be a subversive group of coffee drinkers that use their weather control machine to bring heat waves over central North Carolina the first weekend of every May.

This post will preview the Battle of the Two Shannons in the 15k:  Tomorrow Shannon (OLD) facing off against 2010 Shannon (slightly less old, or SLO).  This one's hard to handicap, so let's look at the factors:

Fitness

SLO has put 330 miles on his legs over the past four months.  This includes a completely unrespectable time of 4:43 in the Umstead Marathon. 

OLD has slacked off, logging 260 miles over the past four months with no races.  This 260 mile figure is inflated with a recent 4 day, 50 mile hiking trip to Arizona, where little running took place - and much beer was consumed at the conference he attended afterwards.  OLD is also two years older and five pounds heavier than his opponent.

Advantage:  SLO - 3 minutes, 30 seconds

Experience

SLO will be running his first trail race, and doesn't realize that there is a short stretch of road that's meant to allow runners who think they're fast to surge ahead and avoid being stuck behind a logjam of slower runners.  Passing packs of people on a trail is more difficult than the rookie SLO realizes.

OLD doesn't realize that he IS one of the slower runners, and will probably start with about 2/3 of the field behind him.  He prefers to be embarrassed by getting passed by about half the field during the race.  He is also bad at math, as he figures this will give him a finish in the 50th percentile.

Advantage:  Worth about 2:30 to OLD

Approach to Training

Sure, both have done some running.  Both have even been above 10,000 in the Western US in the past month, so they both have undergone high intensity altitude training exposure.  Nutrition is pretty even:  neither eats meat, they both believe in carbo loading far in advance.  SLO ran the Krispy Kreme Challenge the previous February.  OLD did too, but remained dedicated to this strategy by eating sensibly throughout each day, then detouring to the sweet and salty shelves of the pantry on his way to bed each night.  Pioneering genius or moron?  The jury's still out (as long as you exclude hundreds of thousands of dieticians from the jury).



Carbo loading three months before the race


SLO has been frequenting the rock climbing gym once a week, which doesn't help trail running at all but does help him pull down his competitors by their shirts.  OLD has been building leg strength by an esoteric form of leg lifts, and has not been to the climbing gym in a month. 

50 pound leg lifts, with a nice lung workout too.

This may help OLD, balancing a weak lower body with a weak upper body.  If symmetry helps, OLD is in pretty good stead.

Advantage:  This is too close to call

Intangibles

SLO has no clue that he's involved in this competition.  Actually, he has no clue about a lot of things.  Given both competitors' mental frailty, it's hard to tell if this is a positive or negative.

OLD will have his family there cheering him on.  They will be bored to tears, but this favors OLD

Weather:  Highs of 90 both days, with humid mornings in the forecast.  Both competitors are complete weaklings in the heat, but OLD has had 7 years to acclimate as opposed to SLO's 5.

Both have big noses, maximizing their oxygen intake.

Advantage:  Slight positive for OLD, we'll say 15 seconds

Summary

This highly comprehensive, well-thought out analysis suggests that 2010 Shannon will beat Tomorrow Shannon by approximately 45 seconds.  Race report coming soon...

Umstead Long Run - April 7 - and Its Aftermath

After running the 2011 Umstead Marathon (I use the word 'run' liberally, as it took me nearly 5 hours), a hot early spring sapped my desire to run, and I ran a grand total of 16 miles between April and September, and I didn't get even half-way serious about running until January. 

Why am I telling you this?  Well first, I'm blogging, so I'm a bit of a narcissist.  But also, to illustrate that I've had to rebuild mileage slowly.  To date, my long runs have been no more than 8.3 miles, which meant Saturday was a perfect time to go to Umstead for a three hour run.  My goal was simply to keep moving.

I loved the feeling of just running for three hours, taking whatever path I felt like.  A nice change of pace from a mileage-driven goal.  In short, I walked most uphills in the last two hours, but did manage to run 16.1 miles in 3:02.  A 11:20 pace, which isn't much to brag about, but I didn't feel dead afterwards.

I even felt pretty good Sunday, but with a slightly stiff back.

Today?  I wake up with sharp pain in the right knee and a tight right calf.  Go to work, and it gets worse after sitting for most of the day.  Stop off at Umstead on the way home, hoping it will loosen up.  It doesn't.  I came home.  Will try again tomorrow.

Change of Plans

Already I've had to make a change to my long-term plans.  Turns out I can't do the Uwharrie 40 miler in 2013.  My brother went and scheduled his wedding that same day (congrats, little bro!) 

So, I did the next logical thing.  I signed up for the Crooked Road 24 Hour run that is two and a half months earlier.  Makes perfect sense, right?

I'll probably ruminate more on this later.  I've been interested in some local ultramarathons, but am not sure if I want to invest the time (taking time away from family, climbing, hiking, etc) to train for an ultra.  I figure this will be a good way to test the waters without the pressures of an aggressive cut-off time.

All that said, my guess is things will play out like this:

1.  I'll enjoy it a bit, but hate it at the end and swear never to do one again.
2.  Not be able to walk for three days afterwards
3.  Forget everything after a week and look for another ultramarathon to train for.

Pretty smart, huh?  A wise man once said "Know thyself."  Thyself is a dumbass.

2012 Goals

I'm hoping that publishing my goals for 2012 will help me achieve them - I've let the running slip terribly over the last year, and am particularly disappointed today as the Umstead Marathon is taking place - and I'm not fit enough to be running in it.

I started running again seriously in 2006 as a way to stay fit for long hiking and climbing trips - living in Raleigh doesn't lend itself to training in the mountains several times a week.  But participating in a few races - the Umstead Marathon and Uwharrie Mountain Run to name a couple - has been a lot of fun, and it's taken on a life of its own. 

My recreational goals this year are:

- Log 1,000 foot miles
- Climb 6 ultra-prominence peaks.  Four in Arizona in April and two in Switzerland in June
- By the end of the year, be in shape to finish the Uwharrie 40 miler in 9 hours (a tall order as I haven't run a marathon in under 4:30).

I'm behind on my 1,000 mile goal, with only 102 thus far.  But, I've been building up.