Saturday, December 28, 2019

10 Lessons from 10 Years of Ultrarunning

January 2nd will mark my 10 year anniversary of my first ultra: the Tsali Frosty Foot Fest 50k. I’ve run a few miles and races since then (not much compared to some), but I do feel I have learned some lessons during that time, many of which would have surprised me back in 2010. Of course this is only based on my individual experience, but I hope it is helpful to newcomers and resonates with veterans of the sport!

10. Mornings are where it’s at.
For those of us with a job and a family (most of us), the early mornings are the most protected time for getting runs in. Sometimes this means runs have to happen at 4 AM. But aside from when I’m on call, I’ve never had anything external to myself keep me from running in the wee hours. Later in the day, work inevitably goes longer than expected and any time spent running is time away from family. Night time runs either don’t happen or lead to trouble falling asleep when I try to go to bed soon afterwards. To ensure the run happens, it’s best to get up and go.

9. When in doubt, go uphill.
I’ve had a vast variety of running injuries during the past 10 years. A common, but not universal, theme is that pain improves or resolves when I am running uphill. Many a run has been salvaged by turning to the treadmill and bumping up the incline (slowing down the pace to keep the effort level consistent) until the pain goes away. Similarly, injuries tend to crop up when I am trying to do lots of fast running on flat or even downhill surfaces. Keeping the higher intensity mostly on an uphill lets me get the training stress without setting off injuries.

8. Scenery and aid station fare are totally legit criteria to base race selection on.
I have definitely selected races in the past based on photos of mountains and/or lists of tasty food available. A course designed to highlight natural beauty and aid stations that are going above and beyond are signs that the race organization is taking extra effort to take care of its runners. I have “forever’ memories of flowing singletrack trails with 360 degree mountain views at IMTUF and warm lemon risotto pancakes in the snow at sunrise at Blood Rock. Food and views can carry you through when other things aren’t going well.

7. 10 minute miles are not slow.
Though I should know better, it still makes me cringe a little bit to admit that my true easy pace on hilly roads is in the 10:30 min/mile range. High school cross country training runs were never truly easy and when I was marathon training, I used the “Run less, Run faster,” plan which had ALL of your running at a faster pace. Running slower than a 10 minute mile was a sign that something was wrong, like I had just given blood or was ill. Early in my ultrarunning days, my running friends were often faster than me and I worked hard to keep up with them, then tried to keep my pace similar to what they run on other days as well. Now, I often settle in to a pace above the dreaded double digit mark any time I am running easy, which is most of the time. I may be a little slower than in the past, but I think more than that, I’m smarter. Easy miles are easier to maintain and build on without injury. There’s nothing magical about the 10 min/mile pace separating “runners” from “joggers,” and you can be a very serious runner while running very slowly.

6. Having a crew/pacers is more about creating memories than finishing the race.
Going in to my first 100 mile race, I wrote 2 typed single spaced pages of instructions and tips to my crew. I thought they were invaluable to my success. In reality, they were quite helpful, but they were only necessary because I had made up my mind that they were. Since then, I have done races up to 100 miles uncrewed which have been no more difficult to complete than that first very well supported attempt. Other races have allowed Nathan to join me at the halfway point to run the second half with me. He provides encouragement and makes aid stations more efficient, but really the point is for us to share the experience together, a rare period of hours together without interruption.

5. Infertility, pregnancy, delivery, and breastfeeding are big deals.
Every year or two, a story comes out about a woman breastfeeding at aid stations on her way to a spectacular performance at an ultra. This led me to believe that this was a requirement to being a “badass” and that women who couldn’t do this simply weren’t as tough. But there are so many factors that need to be “going well” other than raw toughness for this to work. Motherhood has influenced my running more than anything else over the past 10 years:
- Infertility led to psychological distress about the entirely unscientific possibility that skipping a run could increase changes of getting pregnant. It also prevented any long-term running related planning.
- Aside from pregnancy making running physically more challenging, there are similar psychological fears about hurting your baby while running, which were reinforced when I spent the night in a hospital after a hard fall during a trail run at 31 weeks.
-Most women have stories of some sort of complication with delivery. My OB didn’t clear me to run until 8 weeks after delivery and I didn’t feel physically ready any sooner than this.
-Before 6 months age, breastfed babies get all of their calories from their mother. So if you are running and breastfeeding, the number of calories you need to take in is even more than regular running AND you have to time arrival at aid stations with when your baby is hungry. Miscalculating this led me to DNF a 27K I was trying to breastfeed through when Fuller was 4 months old. The “WOW” stories of breastfeeding ultrarunners mostly involve older infants, and I don’t think it is a coincidence that these infants are less strictly dependent on their mothers AND their mothers have had more time to recover from delivery. All of these periods of young motherhood have very direct impacts on running and none of that makes mother runners any less tough.

4. Training matters…
There have been a few races (generally before all of the events in the point above) that I have been well prepared for headed in to them, and it has paid of. At the end of 2010, I ran the North Face 50 Mile in Atlanta, Georgia and was able to work up the pack to ultimately share a podium with Nikki Kimball while she was still in her prime. Okay, she was over 2.5 hours ahead of me, but this was still an incredible achievement for me that wouldn’t have been possible if I had not been physically prepared. In contrast, I tried to run the Iron Mountain 50 this past summer after minimal running for 3-4 months leading up to it because of injury, and while my early DNF was multifactorial, lack of fitness was probably the biggest reason I dropped.

3. ...but training only influences enjoyment so much.
In spite of the experiences above, the finish I take the most pride in to date is my finish at IMTUF. I was coming in to the race on a laughable 25-30 miles per week average for the last few months, mostly organized in an ill-advised alternating 10 miles per week with 40 miles per week fashion. I wasn’t sure if I could finish, and reaching the finish with 16 minutes to spare before the final cut-off took a new level of grit. I doubt better fitness would have made the mountains any more spectacular than they already were. Training is rarely perfect, and even if goals need to be adjusted, going ahead with races with different expectations is almost always worth it.

2. Undertraining is not a character flaw.
Do you ever feel guilty for not meeting your training goals? This is a universal experience of being a serious runner, right? But there are usually good reasons for failing to fulfill your plans: work demands, family obligations, illness, injury. All of these SHOULD take priority over running and that’s okay! Even if the reason for missing runs isn’t so clearly justifiable, that’s still okay, because…

1. I do this for myself.
I hear some ultrarunners claiming that their motivation for running is selfless, for example to inspire their children. They also speak of providing crew the “privilege” of helping them in their races. I don’t doubt they genuinely believe this, but I can’t find ultrarunning to be anything other than a selfish pursuit. I take time from my family to run for my own mental and physical well-being. Especially as a woman, there is some societal pressure that all your actions should be devoted to others’ welfare. But there is nothing inherently “bad” about doing something for yourself, even if it is something that takes a tremendous amount of commitment. We run because we love running, not because we love others. It’s okay to do both!

Do you agree? What are the major lessons you have learned from ultrarunning?

-Jordan

Sunday, March 24, 2019

OPSF 50K: Ultrarunning Remediation



In novels, I often think of the basic structure of a protagonist who wants something, and at the end of the novel, they either a) get it, b) don’t get it, or c) get it but realize they didn’t really want it and so they still aren’t fulfilled. My experience at OPSF 50k yesterday was another version of this: I had a very specific goal in mind, but the lessons I learned in NOT achieving it were more valuable than achieving it would have been.

Last year, I finished first female in a time of 6:36 with nasty conditions: rain, snow, sleet, hail, and MUD unlike anything I had ever seen before. I came back because I assumed I would be able to run significantly faster because conditions HAD to be better. I set 3 tiers of goals: A) Break 6 hours, B) Under 6:14, the fastest women’s time I had access to, albeit on a different course of the same race, and C) faster than last year’s time of 6:36, which I thought was a given.

In the month leading up the race, I struggled with IT band pain, and a combination of high (for me) peak mileage of 64 miles plus running on slanted surfaces like the beach aggravated it to the point that I didn’t run at all for 3 days before the race, scheduling ibuprofen and feeling anxious. It was possible I would run 1-2 miles and then DNF. I adjusted my goals as I lay in bed the night before: 1) Be grateful, 2) Take the downhills hard (if IT band allows), and 3) Run to respect yourself the next day. I thought #3 would mean go hard the last 8 miles rather than cruising in, but it ended up meaning something different.

The weather was terrific: 20s to 40s and sunny and the trail conditions were reportedly the best they will ever be for this race. But the course sits on natural springs and so there was still a fair amount of mud, worse than my muddiest of training runs in Ohio and at times deep enough to come up 2 inches above my ankle. The hills are a bit nasty, even the lead men in the 14 mile race were walking them. And almost the entire course has uncomfortable footing, not with the rocks and roots that I find fun, but with mud, ruts, and debris. By the end of the race I had learned that when I wasn’t sure where the course went and the options were what looked like a nice even trail or a nasty wide ditch of mud, I was supposed to go through the ditch of mud.

Photo

Even with my adjusted goals, I still fixated on my pace early on in the race, targeting a 6 hour finish. My legs were tired by mile 13. Whoops. A woman named Victoria caught up with me, also interested in targeting a 6 hour time, so we planned to run together. She was running this 50k as TRAINING for a marathon: crazy! After a few more miles, I was no longer able to maintain the pace I had started with, and I slowed dramatically.

Throughout the run, I recited my goals to myself. As soon I thought, “Be grateful,” I immediately felt better and realized how lucky I was to even be running on such a beautiful day. Even though my second half was slow, I was smiling for most of it. I realized that I am the only person who cares about my time or place, and people who love me care about those things only because I do: If they stopped mattering to me, they wouldn’t matter to my loved ones either. I also realized that I have no business using my GPS watch in race. Pacing should be based on effort level, not pace or place in the field.

Within minutes of the finish, I saw Victoria ahead of me, walking. I could have run hard to try to pass her at the end to finish 3rd place female, but that wouldn’t be in the spirit of the sport. Instead I jogged in to finish likely 10 seconds behind her in a time of 6:44. This quiet jog to the finish ended up being how I met my goal of respecting myself the next day.

While I failed to achieve my time goals at OPSF 50k, I learned some really valuable lessons. This year, I am targeting sub-24 hours at Burning River as my “A” goal. Without this experience at OPSF, I think I would have been likely to make the same mistakes at Burning River. Now, I will think about that time goal to motivate my training, and if appropriate, at the end of the race, but otherwise put my focus on things like gratitude.
Speaking of gratitude, thank you so much to the RDs and volunteers who made this event possible and fed me grilled cheese when I finished!

Jordan
 

Sunday, January 6, 2019

Frozen Sasquatch 50K: Free Miles


It’s hard to run consistently when I’m on service, and right now I’m just over halfway through a 2 month stretch of service. I signed up for the Frozen Sasquatch 50k as “free miles,” that is, 31-32 of them without the mental difficulty of sloughing out a long run alone. It also helped me do my best to get my runs in over the last month, though I didn’t train specifically for this race (max run was 16 miles, and I didn’t run at all for nearly 2 weeks when I should have been peaking for this race). Finally, a beautiful course with great support and good company is a good reminder that I like ultrarunning, helpful when winter and work encourage me to stay in bed when that 4 AM alarm goes off.

I got up at 3 AM to drive the 3.5 hours to Kanawha State Forest in West Virginia in time for the race start. It had rained the whole afternoon/evening/night leading up to the race and then stopped right before the race started, leaving muddy trails but no active precipitation (and even some sunshine!) for the race itself. It was a little cool to start (40 degrees) so I wore the amazing smartwool hat provided as race swag.



The course is 2 laps of a 15.8 mile loop, each with 3 significant (~600 foot) climbs up mountains. The first begins only ¼ mile into the race. Early hiking: free miles! We then ran along the ridgeline awhile (beautiful running = free miles). The descent that followed was on a wide gravel trail/road, making a quick pace very easy: free miles! There was some mud which occasionally made singletrack descent comparable to skiing and rarely caused ankle deep mud puddles on the gravel/dirt trail, but really it didn’t significantly slow the course. After the second climb, we were treated to some flowing singletrack switchbacks, but the course was still too crowded at this point to be able to really cruise down it. A mile of flat road followed: free FAST miles!

I stopped at the second aid station to pick up some pringles and was walking to eat them when I saw a man with a camera. Okay, I’ll run and smile to try to get a good picture. I was working hard to look happy and take a good picture when Sasquatch himself jumped out from behind a rock and roared. I think everyone for half a mile heard my scream, and my hands flew up before settling in to hug it out with Sasquatch. And now I had an adrenaline kick for the third climb!

After the third climb, we had some easier running for awhile before descending sharply on switchbacks to go through the start/finish (my split was around 3:11 when I did so). Even though many of the runners I had been around the whole first lap were doing the 50k, once the 25k runners stopped, the course went from being a little crowded to totally empty. I passed one runner on the first climb, and then went a whole 10 miles without seeing another runner. I was a little tired and had slowed a bit (about 1 minute/mile), but probably could have run a little quicker if I had the right motivation. Then with 5 miles to go, I saw a woman (I later learned her name was Emily, wife of Sasquatch) ahead of me. I actually said out loud, “Jackpot!” Perhaps “jackrabbit” would have been more accurate, because 1 minute later she looked back, saw me, and took off.

I caught her 1-2 miles later at the last aid station and tried to pick up my pace for what I knew was a fast/easy last section. But then 2 miles later, I found myself running toward Emily. She was right and I was wrong, of course, but I was stubbornly confident that I had been following markers the whole way. We stood there a few minutes, pulling out Emily’s map and finally deciding that I had done something wrong and a little extra (free miles!) before the next runner came up behind Emily as the confirmatory tiebreaker.

When I crossed the finish line, John Denver’s “Country Roads,” was playing. My time was 6:41 but I’m encouraged that my detour/standing around to look at the map falsely inflated my second lap split, so I didn’t slow down quite as much as the time would imply. Finishers all received smartwool socks (yes!) and BBQ lunch (perfect post-race food).

After driving back home, I was surprised that my legs were fine getting out of the car and walking in: success! My Salmings are done: the holes in the side are big enough now that rocks were slipping in the shoes that was during the race.

Overall, I was super pleased with the race course and organization and look forward to doing more West Virginia races!

-Jordan