January 2018 San Tan Trail Runner of the Month

I’m not gonna make too big of a deal about this, but for several years I have been part of a running group that calls San Tan Mountain Regional Park their home, and they recently began spotlighting members on a monthly basis. I was voted the San Tan Trail Runner of the Month for January 2018. It was super cool to get, and many kind words were said about me by the friends I’ve made out there.

This is the little bio about myself that I shared as part of the spotlight. I said some things in there that are important to me and have been on my mind for a while, but I hadn’t previously expressed.

2016 Javelina Jundred 100k

“I don’t know how I’m going to do another 20 miles.”

I said more than that, but it seemed like that was where my pacer, Lisa, got worried and stopped listening. I was actually trying to be a little inspirational, leading with a complaint, but finishing with resolution. Instead, I shot wide of the mark and made her nervous about how I was feeling just as we were about to get going together. 

In fairness, being concerned about me was a totally justified response. I was a little over 41 miles into the Javelina Jundred 100K. It had been a long, hot day, and the sun had set two hours ago. I had come into the main aid station after two loops of the course, with one more to go, and that was where we were meeting up. Nobody told me at the time, but apparently I looked pretty rough.

I wasn’t feeling great. I had crossed the threshold of the longest distance I had ever done at mile 33 and had been moving into uncharted territory ever since. I was tired and surprised at how much my feet hurt, and how sore my lower back was. It seems dumb in retrospect, but I had thought that sore feet was a thing I’d just gotten over experiencing. I couldn’t remember the last time my feet hurt just from running on them.

I wasn’t looking forward to the next several hours.

Getting Through It

So my last post was fairly grim, but it was meant to be. Running a lot in the heat is lousy. I talk to other runner friends who tell me that they have gone out and trained in the afternoons during the summer for long stretches like it’s no big deal, and all I can think is that they’re either way, way tougher than me or that they’re better liars.

I did it and I got through it, but I hated it. It wasn’t so much that I hated it while I was out there doing it (because my brain just shifts into “get it done” mode once I’ve started—this is the real reason why you train, folks), but I dreaded going out. I mentioned in the last post that I was skipping most second-day runs, and that just continued. I never did get much better at dragging myself out early for a Sunday morning run after a long, hot Saturday.

But this is the thing I want to talk about:

My Fall-Apart Week(s)

I don’t know how I’m going to do this.

I’ve thought that before. I know I have. I get deep into a training cycle for a big race, and then I hit a point where everything goes to hell. Something that’s been working stops working. Social obligations keep interfering. Some part of my body starts to hurt in a way that isn’t normal. Whatever it is triggers a collapse that’s a combination of both mental and physical. My carefully-made plans for training fall to pieces.

(Oh, who am I kidding? My training plans are never planned carefully!)

Usually I get there and I think, “This has happened before. I can get through it.” And by the time I get to race day, it’s a distant memory that I’ve glossed over in my mind. I proudly recall training for my race. I grunted through the pain, figured out how to make it work, and persevered. I forget that along the way, I nearly broke.

But this one feels different.

Still Moving Forward

Well, I’ve done it.

It’s one thing to talk about plans, and it’s another thing to commit to them. I’ve been talking about doing the 100K at Javelina Jundred this year, but up until yesterday it was just talk. Now I’m registered, and it’s time to put my money (a pretty hefty race fee!) where my mouth is.

Double Run Day Fun-Day

We now interrupt your flow of angsty missed-race agonizing to talk about an entertaining thing I did last Saturday morning: two runs on opposite sides of the valley.

Why? Because I felt like it, and I could!

Calming The Madness

You know what’s not good for your head? Working on a goal for several months and then not being able to achieve it. You know what’s worse? Not being able to even attempt it.

I’m a patient guy. Not an “I can put up with anything indefinitely” kind of patient, but in a goal-oriented way. I function best when I have something that I am working toward. As long as I feel like I am making progress toward it, I can do it for a long, long time. It doesn’t matter if it’s repetitive, it doesn’t matter if it’s painful, it doesn’t matter if nobody else understands it. If it is moving me closer to achieving the task I’m focused on, I can keep doing it.

The important part of all of that, however, is actually doing the thing at the end.

Training for 50: What I Learned

Since I didn’t actually run the 50 mile race I was training for, this is kind of a weird post to write. If I didn’t do the race, how can I assess the training for it?

Obviously I can’t.

What I can do is talk about the training process itself. Even if I didn’t do the race, I did spend more time and miles training for it than any I’ve done before, so I still learned some things. Parts of it went well (quite a bit of it, actually), and some parts didn’t. I’m gonna talk about both.

When the Wheels Fall Off in the Home Stretch

This was supposed to be a recap of the training for my first 50 mile race.

It was going to be out at Monument Valley, where several of my friends were running the 50K. I was going to tell the story of how I found it, why I signed up for it, and what I learned training for it. Instead, it’s an announcement of failure.

A week before the race, I came down with the flu. I was laid out for almost three entire days. After that I started improving, but it was slow. I could still hardly move by the end of the week. I’d get up and move around the house, then have to take a nap to recover.

I had to cancel the race.

I just can’t even bring myself to write more about it than that. I’m devastated. I contacted the race organizers, and they gave my a partial rollover toward the event next year, so I’ll still get to do it. I just don’t think it’s going to be the same as it would have been the first time around. Next year, I’ll have at least one 50 miler and maybe two under my belt. It won’t be the adventure into the unknown that it was going to be this year.

I’m still recovering from the flu and probably will be for a while—it really kicked my butt—but all I can think about right now is how I can knock out a 50 before summer sets in and get that monkey off my back. I don’t think it’s going to be pretty, but if I don’t do it, I think I’m going to be real unhappy about it.

All Day in the Desert: McDowell Mountain Frenzy 50K

If you want to read about how I trained for the race, you can find it here.

Race Day

I showed up early on race day to see the 50 mile runners start. Partly because one of my friends from San Tan was running it, and partly because I just wanted to cheer for them as they started. As I get closer to committing myself to doing a 50-miler, the more I appreciate how badass each and every one of those people are. You better believe I’m going to cheer for them.

It was cold and windy early. Thanks to a really cold night at Ragnar, I’ve just given up completely on light jackets when I think there’s a chance it’s gonna feel real cold and have dug out my bulky coat, and that was what I walked around in for about an hour, any time I was outside of the warmth of my car. Shortly before the 50K start, I shucked off the warm stuff and headed over to the chute. My friend and Ragnar teammate, Francisco, was running the 50K too, so I wished him luck and headed to the back of the group to get ready to start.