jaddgottheruns

“Sneaky Tough”

Mad City beat the literal shit out of me!

Racing 62 miles, at 7:19 pace, in 16 degrees, all on concrete or asphalt was an ass kicking combination I wasn’t ready for. Thankfully nothing structurally was damaged after the race, but I sure looked like it waddling around town for several days.

Joe’s post ultra recovery protocol is usually filled with uber rest, and a short set of 4x200m’s late in the first week. Once I could feel my legs again, I mixed up hikes and slow jogs around town with Carly. Surprisingly once the soreness faded, I didn’t feel all that bad. We decided to up the mileage, insert some mid-week recovery day hikes, and keep the effort on workouts to short bursts of very high intensity (i.e. hill sprints). This prescription worked well as I was able to stay consistent with workouts, but not tax the system that had been worked during the 100k (moderate, “gray zone-ish” pace).

With all the flat training and racing from September through April, it made sense to find a summer 100 miler that was relatively runnable, versus the “bumpier” types I normally migrate towards. The SD100 fit perfectly into the calendar, is ran by the legendary ultra race director, Scotty Mills, and offers up a set of variables that I’ve fortunately been able to juggle in past events  (hot weather, portions of technical terrain interspersed into very runnable sections, and low altitude).

The leadup for SD100 came and went rather quickly. There were only nine (9) weeks between Mad City and SD, so we dove headfirst into “vert and trail mode.” We injected as much climbing and trail running as possible, to counterbalance all of the early year flat and fast training. Since hiking is an excellent recovery tool post ultras, we weaved some 1-2k treadmill “hikes” into the early weeks of the block. Definitely received some awkward stares from the soccer moms on nearby treadmills, as I power hiked at 15% incline for nearly an hour, with my hands on my quads, sweat flying all over the place… at 5:30 in the morning!

Late spring also brings two annual events that can’t be missed. Born to Run weekend is everything good about trail running, and if this is your first time reading this blog, please take a look at the previous posts on BTR. Beer miles, Bolo racing, archery, wrestling, and the weirdest talent show this side of the Mississippi, Born to Run legitimately has something for everyone.

The Reno Tahoe Odyssey is a 178 mile relay race that starts and ends in the Biggest Little City in the World. Team of 1, 3, 6 or most notably 12, caravan around Lake Tahoe, up and over Virginia City, and back into downtown Reno for 24 hours of nonstop running debauchery. I’m only slightly biased, but am 100% certain that we have the best team in the world for RTO weekend. Not the smartest idea for tapering running 36 miles only six days before a 100 miler, but if Killian can do it, then damnit so can I!

The San Diego 100 is essentially an out-and-back course, with three loops interspersed into the out section. Starting and finishing at Cuyamaca Lake, approximately 60ish miles northeast of San Diego, the SD100 takes runners through beautiful stretches of the Pacific Coast Trail (PCT) and through the Cleveland National Forest. Held annually in early June, the SD100 has been described as a “Sneaky Tough” course. With only 12-13k of climbing, SD looks relatively tame on paper, but it plays out as an entirely different animal. SD is hot, exposed and rocky! There is just enough climbing to keep you honest, but interspersed into the day is 10hrs of fully exposed 90+ degree temps, and technical enough terrain to prevent long stretches of runnable, time saving trail.

To “Bank time” is a recipe for disaster in an ultra, but many races do reward long climbs with runnable descents to “make up” some minutes.

Not the trails at SD100!

Be prepared for moderately technical descents, just nasty enough to make you curse the running gods. Patience and early moderation of effort on less than runnable terrain tends to play out well in 100 milers, and the 2018 SD100 was a perfect example.

My dad, Thomas and I made the trip down to Julian on Thursday morning, as the race kicked off Friday.  Most 100 milers run Sat-to-Sun, requiring only a day off from work, but there are a few that run Fri-to-Sat. These events are great for recovery, as you have an extra day of rest, but do require more from the crew. My dad has been the “crew chief” at the majority of my 100’s, and I feel so privileged that he’s willing and able to share these experiences with me. I’m not the easiest runner to crew for either, as I focus on spending as little time as possible on resupplying or expenditure of energy. Two water bottles, four gels and possibly some ice in the bandana is all that’s needed, and I’m normally not too talkative. Something I really need to work on is AS etiquette, not being so frantic and quick to leave, as these really are team events and my crew is always so damn good.

Crewing an ultra isn’t sexy or easy! You spend countless hours driving around backroads trying not to get lost, usually all in remote areas without much cell reception, eating if you remember, and always being more focused on your runner than yourself. Crewing a 100 miler, and especially events where pacing is expected later in the day, can legitimately be as mentally draining as racing… sometimes worse. For those of you reading this and interested in tackling a longer event, volunteer to crew someone racing an ultra, as it’s an excellent intro into the world of trail running.

The trip down to Julian was uneventful and we made excellent time. Race check-in was painless, and we were looking forward to some pizza, beer (not me) and R&R before sacking out early. The day changed quickly however, as I called our host before pulling into the AirBNB, and he said the house was unavailable.

WHAT???

I had reserved, paid for and received a reservation confirmation weeks prior. Needless to say I was a bit irritated, and left the host with a few choice words before hanging up.  Surprisingly AirBNB is popular in Julian, as we were able to lock up another rental after only a few clicks and calls, ending a rather hectic hour of pre-race prep. After some awesome pizza and a couple pints, we called it a night.

Race day came early, as usual for a 100 miler, and my dad dropped me off at the start letting Thomas sleep in as he’d be spending 36 miles with me later in the day. Ran into some local and familiar faces as we prepped for the start. Kevin and Natosha Wolf had made the trip down. David Aguayo from Los Osos looked ready to run. Mauricio looked super fit, as he’d been frequenting a Crossfit gym preparing for Hardrock. Not a surprise to see Walt, as it’s actually surprising not to see Walt at the start of a 100.

At 6:00am and after a few choice words from Scotty Mills, we were off…

The conga line started early as we headed away from Cuyamaca Lake, towards the Cleveland National Forest. The first mile was flat and fast, and then we started to climb. Thankfully this was no Wasatch, as the bump was less than 1,000ft, but my effort felt higher than it should have been, so I eased back a ton and let several packs of runners pass. Hoping that the previous weeks relay didn’t take too much out of me, I settled into a sustainable pace, and moved patiently through the morning miles.

I love to climb!

Normally it’s a strength that I’ve been able to use in previous ultras, but that wasn’t going to be the case today. With literally no hill work between September through April, a few weeks of hillier workouts did little to charge my climbing ability. Whether it was some leftover fatigue from the relay, a lack of climbing-specific training or likely a combination of both, I had to modify the race plan to be VERY, VERY conservative on the climbs and move as efficiently as possible on the flats and descents. This unfortunately isn’t always easy to stomach when 20 runners pass you on the 2^nd mile of a race…

Working patiently through the first 21 miles to the Sunrise AS, my plan was to tackle heat management as early as possible. Moderating effort and keeping the core temp down in the early miles has been a successfully recipe for not feeling entirely like trash late in races. So with the early temps rising, my lack of climbing ability and rumblings of the lead pack moving briskly, slowing and cooling down was going to be paramount to surviving the day.

The next section into Pine Creek AS at mile 36 would be the beginning of the carnage party. An early race leader from the East Coast had taken off with another guy, and had been blazing the early morning miles. Heading down a long descent into Pine Creek AS, “East Coast” was slouched back in a chair looking like hammered poo. Unfortunately, this would be the case for the majority of the lead packers as the day progressed.

After a very warm and exposed climb out of Pine Creek, the next section was 15ish miles of runnable but hot and semi-technical terrain, before a long 7 mile descent into Cibbets Flat (mile 64). My crew would be waiting at Cibbet’s, and Thomas would start his crewing duties, so my plan was to arrive with “plenty in the tank.”

The descent into Cibbet’s and the subsequent climb and return was the beginning of the out-and-back section, so I would see the leaders returning while descending into Cibbet’s, and would see all of the other runners as we climbed back out. With literally no idea where I was in the race and knowing there were some runners with solid resumes like Michelle Graglia who would later win Badwater in July, my only focus was to control what I could control.

With about 15 minutes before entering Cibbet’s, I saw the leader and chase pack close behind. A couple guys looked really strong, and unsurprisingly these were the two that held it together till the finish. A couple guys didn’t look too hot, and I was very surprised to find myself in 5^th place with 36 left.

We made quick work out of the AS, and Thomas and I began the long climb out of Cibbet’s. Feeling fresh, or as fresh as you can expect with 64 damn miles on your legs, we talked about nutrition, hydration, electrolytes and a bit about late race strategy.

Working our way up Cibbet’s, we ran into Walt making his way down the descent. He looked like death and was literally walking down the most runnable section of the race. After a quick fist bump I continued up the climb. Thomas stopped to check in and find out how he was doing. We both talked afterwards about Walt’s day being over, but he surprised the hell out of both of us, coming back from the dead to finish under 24hrs.

Tough SOB!

We finished the climb, dumping into Dale’s Kitchen AS around mile 72 in 4^th place, passing the leader who was taking a ride on the struggle bus. Feeling good and ready to run, we made descent time for the next 6ish miles. Somewhere around mile 78 however, the wheels started to fall off. We were now in 3^rd and moving ok, but I immediately felt gutted. My energy levels were zapped, my mood went waaaay south and competing was the last thing I wanted to do. We made it into Penny Pines AS at mile 80, in pretty bad shape.

I lurched out of the AS feeling like we’d literally crawled for the past few miles, and I overheard a volunteer say that the leaders were only 5 minutes ahead. I couldn’t believe it! I thought we’d pissed off 15+ minutes in this last section. Maybe it was the couple of caffeinated gels, the intel from the volunteer or a mix of both, but I felt slightly better and decided to make a concerted push till the next AS (4 miles to Pioneer Mall).

Looking over the data, my “push” speed was pretty atrocious. Hoping the volunteer was wrong in her assessment, as the leaders had a TON of time on us, as we pulled into Pioneer Mall with 15 to go.

Unfortunately my mind went into the dumps. Even with pushing over the past four miles, the leaders had essentially dropped me. With no chance to move up, instead of continuing to fight, I threw in the proverbial towel. Thomas and I made it to the finish thankfully with a bit of time to spare on 4^th place, but it was a pretty dark final 15 miles. My mood was horrible, I complained about everything, and all I wanted was for the race to be over.

I don’t care what Karl Meltzer says, but 100 milers are far and they are tough. These last 15 miles kicked my ass, and I unfortunately let them get the best of me. I won’t let this happen again!

The real stars of the day!

What I learned:

• Patience is important and ego checking is a must when racing 100 miles
• Effort is a decision, especially late in a race
• The process is more important than the outcome… control what you can control
• I’m not throwing in the towel again!

“How do you drink from a water bottle when the damn thing’s frozen?”

With over three months of recovery and a sunny 75 degree day here at home, I’m just about thawed out enough to recap the Mad City 100k.

Taking place in early April each year, Madison is home to the Mad City 100k/50k/relay. Doubling as the USATF 100k road championships, each even years (i.e. 2016/2018) winner is provided an automatic entry onto the US 100k team. This usually leads to a significant amount of talent at the front of each field, and the 2018 Mad City 100k was no different.

Heading into 2018, Thomas was planning to race Mad City, as he was turning 50 and wanted to take a swing at the US Men’s 50-54, 100k road record of 7:38 (7:22/mile). The timing of the race worked well for his calendar, as it would align with training for Western States, if he received a lottery spot.

Coming off a healthy training block and race at CIM, I was excited to tackle the 2018 season. Without receiving a lottery spot for either Western States or Hardrock however, I was uncertain about the racing calendar. When Thomas first inquired about my interest to race Mad City, I thought he was utterly insane, as another several months of asphalt running was the absolute last thing I wanted to do. A few weeks later when Thomas asked if I would crew for him, it triggered several questions that I was forced to tackle:

• What was my 2018 calendar going to look like?
• What areas of my training do I really need to work on?
• Wouldn’t it be cool to set a 50 mile and 100k PR… well hopefully anyway?
• Thomas and I are nearly equal in fitness and it’s very difficult to find a friend and training partner that you can do nearly every workout with. Wouldn’t it be fun to train together for these few months?
• Am I really going to fly all the way out to Madison, and not fucking race?

Training with Thomas was a close second, but my stubbornness was the ultimate driver in deciding to ditch the crew duties and race with him at Mad City.

Since we’re both coached by Joe Uhan and our fitness levels are relatively similar, he was able to develop a training plan that allowed for Thomas and I to do nearly all of our quality workouts together. Since motivation was going to be a factor heading into Mad City because of all of the asphalt, having someone to hold me accountable was going to be imperative.

The lead up to Mad City kicked off with the Jed Smith 50k in Sacramento, in early February. Being recovered but not too fit due to some much needed time off after CIM, I was satisfied with a 4^th place finish and 50k PR of 3:33. Thomas was also starting his training block equally as unfit, and was able to pull away as I started to cramp with several miles left, rounding out the podium in 3^rd, 30 seconds ahead.

We wasted zero time after Jed Smith, filling the next two months with an assortment of workouts from tempo’s and track time, to multiple long runs and back-to-backs. Although the volume was relatively low for this block, peaking at 85 miles, the amount of quality work increased. Nearly every long run or back-to-back had a significant number of miles at or faster than race pace (7:15/mile). Getting comfortably uncomfortable at 7:15/mile wasn’t something either of us were used to, so we spent many, many workout miles at or under this pace.

My training wasn’t spectacular leading into Mad City, although this seems to be the norm. In my five years of training and racing ultras, I can count on one hand the number of workouts that I’ve genuinely been ecstatic about. Considering my lack of raw speed, it unfortunately makes sense that I would lack in the number of workouts that jump off the page. I needed to trust that this cumulative amount of consistent work would provide the opportunity to hold onto 7:22/mile (7:38, 100k pace) on race day.

Incredibly incremental should be my motto…

Being my first swing at a road race past 50k, I was nervous about juggling all the variables:

• Thomas and I were crewless and would need to provide our own support
• Liquid calories would be the most efficient option being crewless, but I normally only race with gels
• I’ve never ran at 7:15-7:20/mile pace for anything past 50k
• Unlike a 100 miler, one mistake could derail the entire race
• What type of weather should we prepare for?
• How the hell was I going to pee?

We prepared accordingly, training with handhelds and liquid calories, running countless miles at race pace and running in mostly “cold” weather. Thankfully pee training wasn’t part of this training block, but the race day weather would force me to make some difficult decisions.

Checking the weather forecast leading up to Mad City, the original predictions called for rain. Thankfully this cleared up as we entered April, however just as the expectations for rain dropped, so did the expected temperature. Dropping a few degrees each day leading up to race weekend, I could only laugh as we touched down in Chicago and the forecast registered 16 degrees on Saturday morning. Let alone never racing in this type of cold, I can’t even recall ever running in it.

We tried our best to control what we could control, and headed out to Madison Friday morning to pick up our race packets and shake out on the course. Our worst fears were immediately confirmed as we exited the car in Warner Park, just a couple miles away from the University of Wisconsin.

Biblically cold and windy!

Arriving at the beginning of packet pickup, we were greeted by the Race Director Timo and his amazing group of volunteers. They led us into the shelter which acted both as packet pickup and a literal shelter from the elements. Being weatherly naïve, I didn’t know this was an actual shelter used by Madison in the winter months to keep its homeless residents from literally dying. Timo unfortunately didn’t take my advice for changing the race venue to 4,000 laps inside the building, but I damn well tried.

Race morning came and found Thomas and I putting on literally every piece of clothing we brought. We arrived early to set up our makeshift aid station right outside the shelter, and saw several groups of crews doing the same.

May God rest their poor souls!

A 5k loop set around and through Warner Park with one out-and-back section about halfway through each loop. The course is relatively flat with the only “hills” at the start of each loop and on the short out-and-back sections. Starting at 6:30am, the 25ish 100k racers would have the course to ourselves for the first couple hours until the 50k and relay runners started.

For only having 25 registered runners (17 males), Thomas and I were ranked somewhere between 7-9^th based on previous results. There were a handful of top notch road runners toeing the line and attempting to ink their ticket onto the US 100k team. Geoff Burns entered the race with the 2^nd fastest American 100k time (6:30). Eric LiPuma was toeing the line, recently winning the US 50k championships. There was also Anthony Kunkel, fresh off a US 50 mile championship win, and also looking to make the US 100k team. Though equally short on numbers, the women’s race had some serious talent at the front of the field between Liza Howard, Traci Falbo and Denise Bourassa.

At 6:30am sharp, and piercingly sharp it was, registering exactly 16 degrees with wind chill dropping to six (6), we were off. Just as expected, Thomas and I settled somewhere into 7-9^th within 800 meters after the start. Our plan was to run by feel, and settle in quickly to a pace that felt manageable for the remainder of the day. Settling in was a smidge more difficult than originally planned as I couldn’t feel my toes or fingers, and it literally hurt to breathe.

The first turn of the 5k loop exits Warner Park and brings runners up and around the perimeter. Eclipsing the first slight incline, runners head back down the outside of the park, and encounter a fully exposed headwind. I literally had to laugh out loud, as I couldn’t believe I paid to spend an entire Saturday running around this damn park in Wisconsin, on a day so cold that not even the locals would go outside. After feeling sorry for myself for the first few minutes, it was time to start juggling the variables as this would be the only shot I’d have to stick to the race plan, let alone finish.

Thomas set the early pace, as he’s like a damn metronome. All those years of racing on the track and likely a bit due to being German, have helped him develop an uncanny ability to lock into a pace. Not trying to check my watch or worry about our speed until we settled in, I felt early like we were moving a tad too quickly for my level of fitness. Chalking it up to the cold, I decided to settle in at this pace and focus on form, fluid and calorie intake. The form was difficult enough as the feeling in my toes never returned until post race, but the fluid intake was downright laughable. I’ve raced in subfreezing temps before, but only for short periods of time, and never to this degree. The first variable I wasn’t ready for was grabbing my water bottle after the first loop, and the nipple being entirely frozen.

How the hell was I going to finish this race if I couldn’t drink, especially considering all my calories were liquid?

Chewing, sucking, blowing and even sticking the bottle under my armpit wasn’t helping. After nearly an entire loop of trying to access an ounce of liquid, the nipple finally let loose and I was able to finish off my first bottle and calories of the race. There was no way we could continue to race with these jacked up bottles, especially as the longer they stayed out in the cold, the worse they would likely get. On our third loop, Thomas yelled towards one of the crew members standing in the area near our bottles, and asked if they could find a way to keep them warm. I was thankful for the Hail Mary, but wasn’t hoping for much.

At least as pacing was concerned, we were sticking to plan clocking off 5k loops all under 22:00. Our goal was to keep each loop to sub 22:30 (7:14/mile), which would hopefully provide enough of a buffer as the later miles would undoubtedly slow us down.

As much as I disliked the idea of doing a 180 degree turn on a looped road course, the out-and-back section allowed us the ability to gauge our distance from the leaders, or at least the guys that weren’t light years ahead of us. There were also an incredible group of women volunteers bunkered down at this turnaround for the entire day. These were by far the toughest SOB’s on the course!

Aside from the 7:20ish pace that we had to hold for the day, the other factor in the way of Thomas’ Age Group US record was Chad Rickfels. Chad is another recently turned 50 year old with significant experience racing long road events. Even if Thomas were able to stick his goal time, if Chad came to Mad City fit, he would be difficult to beat and would likely break the record himself.

The race was unfortunately playing out as expected, as Thomas and I were still in 7-9^th place, with Chad a few minutes ahead, and gaining on most loops. Having a few years of experience with these longer events, it was guaranteed that challenges would arise for everyone, and races rarely play out like they do on paper. I reminded Thomas to control what we could control, and was way more focused on issues that mattered like our damn water bottles being frozen.

As we rounded another loop and headed past the shelter, the crew member that Thomas begged for help earlier had magically came through and found some lukewarm water to put our bottles in. I would’ve kissed this angel, but my lips were nearly frozen shut.

With fluid now trickling in, the other variable I was worried about was the amount of intake. Since it was arcticly cold, I wouldn’t need as much water but would still need calories. Thankfully I packed some gels, and began to supplement early, placing them close to my body so they wouldn’t freeze like the bottles.

With a revamped intake plan in place, I was feeling much more confident with tackling the day… until I needed to pee.

Thomas had stopped earlier in the trees for a few seconds and then caught back up. He mentioned that it was a bit difficult to pick up the pace after a dead stop, and I couldn’t imagine doing the same. Having to pee in an ultra is an excellent sign, as it normally displays an adequate hydration level. Usually held in the mountains, it’s easy to hike off the trail to relieve yourself, or even doing it while hiking up a hill. Whipping it out in the middle of a public park however isn’t the smartest move unless you want to get chased by the cops, and I don’t have Thomas’ speed to be able to catch up or get away.

I decided on option three…

Thankfully I stumbled onto an anti chafing product after racing HURT that has worked in nearly every race setting. Sub freezing temperatures would put 2Toms to the test, as I wasn’t stopping until crossing this damn finish line. Being terrified that peeing myself would lead to cataclysmic chafing, I crossed the fingers and let it rip.

It was warm… it was wet…it also dried without any issues.

Thomas and I continued through 50 miles relatively uneventfully. As with most ultras, many of the front packers will come back if you keep them within striking distance. Thankfully this day was similar to most, in that we both moved up a few spots without any additional effort, with several of the top runners dropping off the pace, or out entirely. Crossing the 50 mile mark in 6:00, I had definitely hit my first goal of a 50 mile PR by over 2 hours, and we had moved up to around 5-6^th place. Thomas started to have some stomach issues right around this time and was forced to slow down a hair. Knowing that we were too close to our goal time to slow down, I stayed with our original plan and hoped for him to catch back up.

Things got really weird over the next couple laps, as I was sticking to our race plan and moving efficiently but not fast over each loop. Within what felt like 15 minutes, I went from somewhere around 5^th to passing Thomas on the out-and-back and having him yell at me, “You’re in 2^nd place!” I literally had no idea where I was in relation to the other runners, as I was more worried about juggling variables and trying not to freeze to death.

Trying to take some bearings with only a few laps to go, I learned that Anthony Kunkel was 30-45 minutes ahead and Thomas was 15ish minutes behind. I couldn’t believe that this many people had fallen off or out of the race. We didn’t do anything special, but we were able to juggle variables and not let the day make the best of us. In the end, we were able to sneak into 2^nd (7:34) and 3^rd place (7:58), with Thomas taking the Masters win.

What the hell just happened… 2^nd place at the US 100k championships!!!

What I Learned:

• A chafing product that works, is worth its weight in gold… or saffron!
• Cold weather racing does have benefits, but also an entirely different set of variables to manage
• Loop courses can be just as draining mentally as physically
• You don’t have to nail every workout to produce a successful race, but you sure as hell better trust the process
• Looks like I gave up my college eligibility with my biggest and first win of my “professional” career… $750 big ones!
• Timo’s team puts on a topnotch event, and if this race report doesn’t scare you off from running a road 100k, I’d highly recommend you make the trip to Madison

My first attempt at racing a marathon was atrocious! Two years ago at CIM, I imploded somewhere around mile 12ish, and then it got real ugly. If you want to read through all the details on how a race goes from bad to not sure if I should watch, please refer to the CIM post from December 2015. With splits of 1:24 and 1:33, for a finish time of 2:57+, I had some serious unfinished business at the marathon distance.

Coach Joe and I talked about training for a late year marathon, as it would be an excellent way to spring into the 2018 ultra season. Although my race was a disaster in 2015, the training was definitely helpful in preparing for not only the Grand Slam, but specifically for flatter spring races like the Austin Rattler 66k. With raw speed being my glaring weakness in just about any race less than 100 miles, even slight increases in turnover should translate to significant improvements at the longer distances. Also with all the focus on form throughout the early months of 2017, we were both interested to see how it would translate to a race that rewards both speed and efficiency.

After the Angeles Crest 100, a storybook wedding and an amazingly relaxing honeymoon in Costa Rica, we kicked off marathon training in perfect trail running fashion… a 50 miler with nearly 11k of climbing!

With a descent amount of fitness and small exit wound post AC, 10 full weeks of marathon-specific training, plus an additional two weeks of “sharpening” (Joe doesn’t like the term “tapering”), we felt this should be enough time and stimulus to drive a better result than 2015. One of the interesting parts to this training plan was not attaching a goal time or marathon pace (MP) to workouts, as we had no idea what it could or should be.

Heading into marathon weekend, I really wasn’t sure what to expect. With no specific time goal, other than to run at a comfortable pace that I could settle into for 20ish miles before pushing the last 10k, there were very few expectations. In reviewing my CIM training block, it seemed relatively uneventful. Yes I felt good throughout these 10 weeks, minus some soreness after a really fun Lululemon weekend retreat and several weekends full of yard work after moving into a new home, but I didn’t feel like I had any breakout workouts that really displayed my fitness. Looking over my training log from late 2016 and into early 17, there were a significant amount of days that felt either “ok” or “bad.” Even though it’s a very subjective measurement of improvement, I literally didn’t have a “bad” day throughout this training block.

In thinking about my improvement in running over the past several years, it’s not surprising that it would be a boring story. Since I don’t have an inkling of raw speed and very little natural talent, of course my improvement would have to come from consistent and SLOW increases in quality and volume.

In looking back over these past five years of running, I’ve realized that thankfully my favorite part is “the grind.” Waking up at the butt crack of dawn to execute on a workout or log easy miles is something I truly look forward to. Sure it’s not always easy to get up, lace up and put the miles in, but it’s now just as much a part of my day as breakfast, or the glass of wine or two after work.

Having a training partner in Thomas has made this process all the more bearable, as there’s someone to share the suffering with. With his extensive background on the roads and trails, along with his ridiculous speed for a guy nearly 50, hopefully he’s not getting too tired of having to lead every workout.

Race Weekend

If you ask me, Alejandra and I traveled up north on Friday after work to spend Saturday testing my 3% chance at the Western States lottery. If you’d ask her, she’d tell you it was to watch the Foo Fighters with her friend Liz on Saturday night. After unsurprisingly not being picked for the big dance in Auburn, we at least left with 10 free Red Bulls (thanks for the new WS sponsorship). After the lottery, we drove back to Sacramento for the race pickup and some lunch.

Forgetting that most races have more than a few hundred people, CIM’s packet pickup is held in the Sacramento Convention Center. With dozens of vendors, hundreds of volunteers and countless people swarming around trying the newest Cliff Bar flavor (disclaimer, they all taste bad after 80 miles), needless to say it was a packed house. Trying to find Alejandra after losing her right after check-in, I stumbled across a familiar face. Sean Garbutt, the first dirtbag runner I ever met at Luis’ Rancho San Juan race, had apparently moved up to the Sac area to work with Fleet Feet. We caught up for a few and then I spotted Alejandra eyeballing the expensive sweatpants, so I had to move quickly.

Later that afternoon, we met up with Liz for an early dinner and drop off of the ladies for the Foo Fighters show. With the wait at sushi being nearly an hour, we walked around mid-town until finding a small Mexican restaurant. Being Yelp approved, we decided to give it a try.

Drinking water all day and having the bladder of a six year old, being near a toilet or bush was high on the priority list. After being seated in this small restaurant with an interesting layout, it was difficult to spot the bathroom. Walking around the kitchen and bar, I spotted an employee and asked in my best Spanish accent, “Donde esta el bano?” Being a bit loud, I didn’t hear his response as he walked away. After finally finding the bano and cleaning up, I was ready to hammer some dinner.

Knowing only enough Spanish to normally find a bathroom and order a beer, I stared blankly when the same waiter and rattled off about 10 sentences in Spanish to me. Alejandra, Liz and the waiter started laughing, and I just sat there with a chip in my mouth. Apparently the waiter heard my question and in Spanish said to “follow me,” as he walked toward the bathroom. When he turned around, I was gone.

I need to learn some damn Spanish!

Race day started earlier than usual, as Alejandra and Liz stumbled into the hotel room sometime after midnight. Thankfully they didn’t get too crazy, as Alejandra hit the sack right away. Waking up again around 5ish knowing Alejandra needs a lot of sleep, I knew she wouldn’t be too perky when I had to wake her up for a ride. Thankfully the hotel coffee was strong, as she dropped me off right before the start. Again not remembering that more than three hundred people race these events, I found myself starting literally several thousand places back when the gun went off.

Thankfully CIM uses chip timing, as it took nearly a minute to waddle up the several hundred feet to the starting line. Looking at the 8:45/mile pace group sign over my shoulder, I was worried these first several miles were going to be spent bobbing and weaving through the crowds. Although not surprised by everyone starting faster than they should, I still had to double-check my watch as we passed the mile mark in 6:24. Although a few seconds slower than I would have liked to start, I hadn’t passed anyone in this first mile. What the hell were these thousand runners thinking, racing over two minutes faster than their goal pace during the first mile??? Maybe this is why no one runs even splits these days.

The next few miles were spent trying to find my “comfortable” pace, as hundreds of runners were still passing me like I was walking. Trying to keep the blinders on and focusing on feel versus pace, especially as these first several CIM miles are where the significant hills are, I didn’t stress clicking off 6:21, 6:10 and a couple 6:20’s. Thankfully after five miles into the race, some separation started to occur, with most runners finally settling into their pace. Feeling like I had no one to run with and this being somewhat true as I started a minute back, I was forced to get comfortable running my own race.

An interesting trend started to arise as we clicked off these early miles. As we hit an uphill in an effort to keep my heartrate stable, I would decelerate and get passed by a ton of runners. As we peaked and descended, I would then open up and pass the group, settling back into position. While my effort would remain relatively constant, I could hear the labored breathing from fellow runners as they worked to settle back into the flats. What type of impact this type of racing has on performance I have no idea, but the relative stability in output gave me confidence in being able to hold this pace throughout the day.

The moment of truth came earlier in this race than it likely does for most, as the wheels fell off around mile 12 during my first CIM experience. Feeling comfortable passing the half-marathon mark in 1:23:06 (6:21/mile), and nearly a minute faster than 2015, more than anything I was just happy not to be falling apart so early.

The next several miles were relatively uneventful, as we crept into the middle stages of the race. One interesting point was that no one was passing me like the flocks of runners in the earlier miles. The opposite was beginning to happen, as the packs that I had previously chased were slowly working themselves back. Checking the watch, my pace had remained constant, so it seemed as though the majority of runners were starting to slow down.

With my quads surprisingly more sore after 20 miles than they are in most 100’s, ratcheting up the pace wasn’t as easy as expected. The last 10k was much more enjoyable than 2015, as although it hurt, it thankfully went by faster than the first effort.

With this race being the 2017 USATF marathon championships and a great event for nailing an Olympic Trials Qualifier, I found myself catching up to the tail end of elite women in the final miles. Not certain where I was in regards to time, I assumed it was close to 2:45 pace (OTQ for women is sub 2:45), as these last several miles were full of really, really fast women leaving it all on the course. Had I known how the race would have turned out, it would’ve been a blast to run in this pack of awesome ladies for the day.

Finishing in 2:45:22 (1:22:16 second half) and good enough for 296^th place, I was really happy with the day. With little expectation other than running by feel and being comfortable enough to pick up the pace over the last several miles, it felt great to execute on a plan. An incredible day for US marathoning, as 87 runners qualified for the Olympic Marathon Trials in 2020. Not sure when I’ll tackle this distance again, but I’ll be shooting for an OTQ next time, even if it’s the B qualifier for women…

What I Learned:

• Don’t speak Spanish unless you can understand it, especially if you’re in need of el Bano
• Going out too hard happens to too many people, in too many races
• If you have the fitness and get lucky with the weather, CIM is a perfect spot for that OTQ
• Marathon training and racing is tough!!!
• Why are my quads still sore four days later???

How beneficial can training by heart rate (HR) really be?

Shouldn’t you be training and/or racing by feel?

With all the ascents and descents in ultras, is it even worth it to train or race by HR?

Aren’t there a ton of other factors that impact HR, other than fitness?

Is it uncomfortable to wear that strap all day?

How bad is your tan line?

Angeles Crest 100 was my 25^th ultra, and first race ever completed wearing a HR monitor. Granted, I’ve been training via HR for the past 18ish months, but have never strapped one on (nothing like a ridiculously dirty reference to start a post) for a race. Utilized as a tool to keep my effort level low in the first 30 miles of AC, I’ll likely be rocking a HR for most races moving forward. The data is glaringly objective, and yes there are a myriad variables that impact HR, but it provides an honest assessment of effort at any single point in time. Had I not used a HR monitor at AC, I would have undoubtedly pushed harder than necessary in the high country miles of the race. This tool provided the gut check I needed to dial it WAAAAY down, when I felt like my pace was relatively dialed.

This post is not meant, by any means, to sway your opinion on if you should or should not use a HR monitor in training, as it’s already a fact that you should (insert sarcasm emoji). Rather, I wanted to provide some details on how I’ve used this tool to help in training, racing and recovery.

HR data helps to better dial in my training plan

Tracking daily HR data, rather it be average HR for a recovery run, average HR for specific hill repeats, tempo run info, or a max threshold to use as a cap, this data provides useful info for properly gauging training effort and stimuli. Instead of “high effort,” we can get fairly granular with training (Stagecoach repeats between 160-165HR and low 12:00’s). Training by HR and time allows for more precise tuning within the workout. If my recovery has been shit, my HR is going to jump into the 170’s at a 12:00 repeat pace up Stagecoach. The increased HR during the workout can help to dial down effort to 12:10’s or even 12:20’s, while still providing enough stimuli to induce change. By only training off time, I’d be forced to push on some days higher or lower than needed, possibly lessening the impact of a workout.

HR data objectively measures gains in fitness

How do you measure fitness gains while training and racing ultras? This can be a difficult question to answer, as there are so many variables to account for in this crazy sport. In preparation for a road or track race, being able to run mile repeats significantly faster at the relatively same effort a month apart, can be a good indicator of an increase in fitness. Racing the exact same ultra from year-to-year with similar results could actually equate to a significant increase or decrease in fitness due to the myriad variables at play (changes in temperature, windy and/or wet conditions, a change in shoe choice with more or less grip, slight shifts in pacing, nutrition changes, lack or over hydration, etc.). When used to track gains in fitness, considering the variables between workouts/races are similar (sleep, weight, stress, etc.), a lower HR at the same pace is a fairly objective indicator of gaining fitness.

HR data supports adequate recovery

How do you know if you are adequately recovered in order to nail the next hard workout or upcoming race?

This is a very difficult question to answer, again because of the variables at play when training and/or racing ultras. To best guestimate my recovery from day-to-day, I ask myself these questions constantly:

1. Are my recovery runs at or around a similar HR, based on terrain and pace from the previous several weeks, and do they feel very easy?
2. Do I have any “niggles” or body issues that are not getting worse?
3. Is my HR and effort during workouts at or below levels from previously similar workouts?
4. Subjectively do I feel rested, not irritable and somewhat normal?

Without HR data to objectively define the difficulty of a workout or the “recovery” in a recovery run, this entire process is measured by feel. Without years of running experience and the understanding of the body that comes from this tenure, I need every tool in the kit to aid performance. Leaving my training up to subjectivity has helped me survive a few years of running, but it’s much more effective when partnered with objective data.

HR data can be an effective “yellow light”

From the very little field experience I have of using HR in a race, it has definitely served as a warning from lead footing it. Outside of AC, I did piggyback off Thomas’ HR data at the Sean Obrien 100k. We had been training together for over 5 months at the time, and knew undoubtedly that my HR was 10-15 bpm higher at nearly any pace, over any terrain. When Thomas’ HR crept up towards 150 on the first significant climb of the day, he let me know and I decided to downshift right alongside him. Feeling light and strong with a recent taper and the adrenaline surge of early race miles, having this warning of 160-165HR was important as I wouldn’t of let off the gas otherwise. From a previous blog, SOB turned out to be a good day based on our levels of fitness at the time.

What HR monitor should I use?

Garmin, Suunto, Polar… oh my! There are both a variety of brands creating high quality HR monitors, and two main types of devices pulling the data (chest strap or wrist strap). As funky as it can feel to wear a HR chest strap at first, I’ve found the data to be more accurate in a variety of temperatures and throughout different effort levels.

Garmin was my “Go To” brand for nearly my first four years of ultrarunning, but when the battery in my Fenix 2 finally went kaput and wouldn’t hold a charge for more than 10hrs of use, I decided to try a Suunto Ambit Peak 3. After figuring out the basic differences in configuration, I couldn’t be happier with this pick. Yes it’s a bit heavy, the satellite receiver is bulky and there are very few bells or whistles, but it’s everything I need in a GPS watch/HR monitor. This pulls GPS faster than a hummingbird on meth, and the HR data seems very accurate based on a side-by-side comparison of the Fenix 2. With an IPhone app that provides all relevant workout data needed, nearly 20hrs of battery life and a price point well below the Fenix 5 or Suunto Spartan, I’ve found my running tool for the foreseeable future.

What I’ve learned using a HR monitor

• HR data is uncomfortably honest and difficult to stomach sometimes, when it says I’m working too hard
• Training and racing by HR helps me to be more patient throughout a run
• HR data confirms my fitness gains
• HR is not a perfect training tool, but its a tool nonetheless to help improve

Run tall… lean forward… lift your knees… let form drive speed…

It’s (I can hear my high school English teacher, Mr. Pierotti, reaming me for starting this post with a contraction) taken awhile to write this post, as I’ve wanted to provide enough time for an ample assessment of progress.

I’ve been learning how to run for the past seven months…

In February, I started working with Joe Uhan, a physical therapist and high performing ultra runner in his own right (top ten Western States finisher), to try and fix my ridiculously broken stride. Not coming from a structured running background, I didn’t have much to work with, but Joe reinforced my assumption of terrible form with an early assessment. If anyone reading this is interested in a formal gait analysis by Joe, along with recommendations to increase efficiency and form, take a look at this link (sorry, no ambassador discount or sales pitch, as my story is hopefully more than enough proof that this can work for anyone). http://uhanperformance.com/

To understand what we’re working with here, and it’s not pretty, take a look at these “before” pictures below:

That dip is no bueno…

What the hell is going on here?

The long-term goal of working with Joe, is to slowly… ever so F’ing slowly, increase the efficiency of my stride through strength work, drills and form reminders. For the past seven months, I’ve had this mantra drilled into my daily routine… “Let form drive speed.” This is a tough pill to swallow, as I’m slow as molasses before this stride fix, so slowing down even more to focus on form, is a gut punch when the girls JV team passes me during a track workout (granted, SLO high has an awesome caliber of women athletes, so I’m not too embarrassed here).

The first step in fixing my form has been admitting that I have a problem. Damn, this feels like the start of a 12-Step Program!

Creating several short videos to capture all angles of my lack of awesomeness, allowed Joe to analyze my stride and make recommendations on the good, the bad and the ugly (emphasis on the ugly). At least I saved Joe some time, as there wasn’t much good to report on. After analyzing the results, Joe provided a detailed breakdown of my inefficiencies and a plan to remedy my imbalances.

We started with a daily routine of exercises to strengthen muscle groups that would help drive proper form. Of all Joe’s recommendations, I thought this would be the easiest to tackle, as I’ve spent a significant amount of time in the gym (compared to most ultrarunners) doing a relative assortment of full body workouts.

Well, I learned pretty quickly that whatever the hell I was doing wasn’t obviously working. I was sore as shit for the first couple weeks of this routine! My lower abs and hip flexors were constantly on fire.

A proper warmup was also added to my repertoire, as I’ve habitually recycled a random assortment of drills into my morning pre-run ritual. Unfortunately, these drills focused on all the same damn muscle groups that were sore as hell from Joe’s strength training regiment. Needless to say, my first several weeks caused some serious doubt on if this new training plan was worth the effort.

Thankfully, Joe made it apparent early in the process that this would definitely suck for awhile… possibly a long while, before it got better. Well, “thankfully” probably isn’t the correct use of the word, as it would’ve been much easier to throw in the towel and go back to my normal stride/routine anytime during these past seven months.

Run tall… lean forward… lift your knees… let form drive speed…

Joe promised that over time, the standard niggles and pains that plague nearly all ultrarunners would subside, my heart rate would return to normal once it was used to the new stride, and I would eventually increase my efficiency and speed without an increase in effort.

Damn, this took awhile!

After Leona Divide I was a bit weary about the efficacy of this program, as I hadn’t put together a race to justify that this new focus was actually working. Thankfully, AC put all these fears to rest. Aside from a calf issue that we’ll figure out, my recovery post AC has been incredible. Granted, a honeymoon in Costa Rica definitely helps, but running with better form undoubtedly led to this lack of post race soreness and increased recovery.

So what the hell does this all mean, and why should I care???

Joe calls it the “fountain of youth” for running, as increasing the efficiency of one’s stride leads to less pain, better recovery and improved results. There are obviously a myriad issues that can plague ultrarunners, and improper form over hundreds of miles can create mountains out of mole hills.

“Train to be a better runner, not a better ultrarunner…”

Joe is likely going to charge me extra for posting all his secrets, but this one quote definitely hits home. The majority of the best ultrarunners on the planet were and are excellent runners on the track and/or roads (Magdalena Boulet, Max King, Xiao Wang, Jim Walmsley, Sage Canaday, Tim Tollefson, David Laney…).

Becoming a better runner will undoubtedly increase performance at the ultra distance. There’s a reason why Tim Twietmeyer and Ann Trason habitually raced marathons in the “off season,” as they knew that working on speed and efficiency would pay dividends at AR50 and Western States.

So, what does my training plan look like now versus before?

One of the many issues plaguing my previous training was that nearly all of my runs were medium-to-medium hard. Like most ultrarunners, I love running in the mountains, so that’s what I did. With effort levels in the moderate-to-hard range, I was unable to adequately recover for very hard efforts, or work at an intensity high enough to induce change. This led to moderate results, with relative lack of improvement.

The most significant change to my training plan now is that easy days are VERY EASY, and hard days are VERY F’ing HARD! I’ve been asked several times “how do you know if you’re easy days are easy enough?” The answer is actually quite simple… Am I able to adequately recover so that I can perform during hard workouts? If the answer is “no,” then my easy days are too hard. If the answer is “yes,” well then I’m probably doing something right. This is assuming that all other recovery variables are constant (sleep, nutrition, stress, etc.).

On our prep call for AC this year, I told Joe that I’ve never hiked this much in training before. On nearly every recovery run and most long runs, I would hike nearly all uphills with a significant grade. In past “training,” I’d run nearly everything in nearly every workout. Yes, my HR would spike on uphills, but it would return to normal on flats and descents. Unfortunately I didn’t realize that this approach was taxing my system too much on recovery days, to allow for an honest effort during workouts (hard days).

Keep your easy days EASY!

Aside from slowing the F down during easy days, workouts, or “hard days” are HARD. Whether it’s a hill repeat session up Stagecoach Road, a track workout at Cal Poly, a long run on West Cuesta with progressions or a “grind” run at a steady effort under tempo pace, each week has a variety of workouts that tax various systems. The effort level of these workouts is also something I wasn’t familiar with, as I’m fairly taxed after a heavy session. Joe’s ability to mix-and-match these workouts to induce change without working me into a hole is where his coaching ability really shines.

Hell, I can write a workout plan for just about anyone, but not implementing the right amount of variance, recovery and progression would likely lead to overtraining, or a lack of stimulus to create change.

So, is this new training plan working?

Based on my increased fitness, my ability to recovery, and lack of niggles and minor issues, I’m happier now as a runner than I’ve ever been. My plan is to continue with running until I croak, so I sure as hell hope that Joe’s theory of “fountain of youth” rings true.

What have I learned?

• Running is a wee bit more complicated than just throwing on shoes or huaraches and heading out the door
• To solicit change, easy days should be easy, and hard days should be hard
• Recovery is as important as the workout
• Form drives speed
• Trust the process
• I’m still slow as molasses…

90 miles of heaven, and 10-11ish miles of hell

The Angeles Crest 100 is one of the oldest and most iconic 100 milers in ultrarunning. A beautifully challenging course traversing the Angeles National Forest from Wrightwood to Altadena, AC provides a variety of challenges to test even the seasoned veteran.

Started and still ran by Ken Hamada, AC has received some recent scrutiny because of the way in which its registration process occurs. Signups for the following years race occur on the Monday after the event. Until this past year, it was also “first come first served,” so the likelihood of getting in was based on your internet connection speed, and ability to peel away from work at the exact time registration opened.

With no waitlist established, no refund policy, a very soft 50 miler qualifier and an incredibly long window of 363 days before the start of the following years race, there is an undoubtable impact to the DNS/DNF rate. Race directors are usually not in this sport to make money (except UTMB), and if you don’t want to support a race you don’t have to run, so I tried to put all the arguments aside and focus on enjoying a fun day in the mountains.

My dad and Erik traveled down with me to Wrightwood on the Friday before the race. They would help crew, and Erik would pace the last 25 from Chantry to Altadena. After a brief pre-race pickup, we made our way out to the Table Mountain campsite to set up our lavish accommodations. Forgetting the poles to my tent, we’d be spending the evening under the stars.

The race briefing was uneventful, but the pizza we had for dinner was excellent. Ran into Ian at the pizza place, as he’s two races into the Grand Slam coming off an excellent Vermont. He would be pacing a friend for 30 miles the next day, and I was baffled that he’s been able to hold up so well throughout these first two events. After talking through some logistics and providing a very rough estimate of aid station arrival times, I hit the sack early.

After a surprisingly good night of sleep, the 3:30am alarm went off and the pre-race routine went into full effect.

Water…check!

Coffee… check!

Breakfast…check!

Poop… check!

Write aid station mileage on arm… check!

Lube everywhere…check!

Poop… check!

Gun… boom…go…

The morning started out relatively calm, as we made our way through the darkness towards the first climb of the day. A serious flash flood had ravaged Wrightwood on Thursday evening, so the first mile through town already felt like we were on the Acorn trail, with tons of rocks and branches strewn throughout the streets.

Deciding to start without a headlamp, my plan was to relax further back in the pack, and tag along to someone carrying a torch. Unfortunately, the one guy I decide to follow blows through the first turn off the single track and heads up the wrong hill. Hoping this wasn’t a foreshadowing of the day to come, we thankfully didn’t lose too much time, and hustled our way back into the pack.

Racing with a HR monitor for the first time in an ultra, I was very interested to check the early morning data as we headed into our initial 2,500ft. climb out of Wrightwood. To my surprise, my HR was nearly 20 beats per minute (bpm) higher than it should be on a climb of this gradient. Setting a cap of 160bpm to stay in “all day mode,” I cruised into and straight past this threshold in the first few minutes of our climb… while hiking! Since my breathing was entirely controlled and it didn’t feel strenuous, I instantly thought back to all the ultras that I undoubtedly started too quickly without feeling the slightest strain.

The first 1-2 hours were spent trying to feel out my body as it related to HR. I’d slow down until 150bps, and then speed up to feel the difference of 155 – 160. Once my HR and pacing felt in control, I settled into my nutrition and hydration plan. With a couple cases of hyponatremia at Leadville and Wasatch, I wanted to be very cognizant of how my body handled fluid intake. I also decided not to take supplemental salt, no matter the temperature, as this always increases my sense of thirst regardless of fluid balance.

On the second large climb of the day, I ran into Rachel Ragona, the eventual women’s winner. We had ran together for some early miles at the Santa Barbara 100 before I made a wrong turn and got our lead pack lost. Really hope I didn’t repeat the mistake this morning. We chatted about recent races, and how she had some unfinished business at AC, DNF’ing the year before. Glad to see she was able to pull through for the win on a difficult course.

Climbing with Rachel at a controlled but steady pace and based on where we were within the pack (15-20ish), I didn’t expect to see any runners move up on us as we headed towards the top of Mt. Baden-Powell. To both our surprise, two younger guys started moving up very aggressively. Not expecting anyone to start as conservative as I did over these first 15ish miles, I had to tip my hat to these two for staying within themselves for so long. After letting them both pass, thankfully they shouted, “Don’t worry, we’re not in the race. Just doing an 11 mile run.” As they climbed out of sight, I responded with “If we pass you later, you owe us a beer.” They both nodded in agreement, and disappeared up the mountain. Rachel and I took our time heading up the climb making small talk.

Maybe it was the hours of acclimation, the deeper controlled breathing, or likely the guarantee of a free beer, but as we climbed closer to the peak at 9,000ish ft,, I began to feel stronger at a much more stable HR.

Uh oh, looks like the young guns are coming back…

After blowing past the boys sucking wind, I told them they could drop off our pints at the next aid station. Shortly after, Rachel had a bit of a low point, and I wished her well heading off to the first main AS of the day at Islap Saddle (mile 26).

Hitting the peak and right before our decent into the IS aid station, Larry Gassan had hauled his ass up to quite possibly the most beautiful location I’d ever seen a photographer make his/her way to. Trying not to trip off the mountain, I stopped to take a quick pick at what he was shooting behind us.

When I find this pic, it’s going here!

Descending into IS, I ran into runner that had stopped to take a leak. We spent the next 1-2hrs running together chatting about the trails, our goals for the day and all the other crazy topics that come up when running 100 miles. With three Pine-to-Palm finishes, I knew he’s be a strong competitor as we continued throughout the day.

Pulling into IS was the first time I saw Erik or my dad since the start. They were absolutely dialed in, as we did a quick switch of bottles, V-Fuels, ice bandana, chug of Physiophyx and face wipe. Erik said we were at approximately 5hrs, and I responded with, “this is the most conservative I’ve ever started a 100.” He said to keep patient (good advice) and to not worry about racing until much later (15ish place)

The next 6-7 miles would be on roads and we would begin descending below 8,000ft, so I expected my HR to fall substantially and be able to make some good time on these sections. Thankfully, my heart responded by dropping to the floor (thanks Joe Uhan for the race plan), and I was able to make great time without even remotely pushing the pace. The gallons of water I’d been drinking definitely helped as well, as this is the most I’d pissed during any ultra to this point (5-8 times in the first 26 miles).

Hearing from some veterans of the race, AC is supposedly 50 miles of “easy” running sandwiched between 25 miles of the high country, and 25 miles of ridiculous climbing and technical descents. Using the term “easy” when explaining a 100 mile race is a relative term, but the middle stretch of this race played right into our game plan.

With nutrition, hydration and a crew absolutely dialed, we made excellent time between miles 26-75. Outside of a missed turn that cost around one mile, a section of 3-4 miles without a single trail mark that I had literally thrown the towel in as the end of my race, and a three mile climb outside Redbox AS with thousands of vicious gnats (swallowed about 30 and my shoulder is still sore from nearly an hour of arm swings), this was likely the most uneventful of any of my most recent 100 milers.

Pulling into Chantry Flats at 15:10ish (mile 75), I decided to dump my pack and singlet, as the straps had led to some serious collarbone chafing. Switching out for a waist pack and handhelds, the first big mistake I made was forgetting to lube up as the night crept in. With the temperature dropping and not having to sweat as profusely as the 15hrs prior, rookie mistake to not lube up properly. The second mistake I made was popping a couple ibuprofen, as I thought it would be good pain relief for the last quarter of the race. Cooling quickly, I also put on a top as I began to shiver. Thanks Erik for literally carrying my damn shirt for 24.99 miles, as I took it off immediately after leaving the aid station.

Priding myself on not being passed the entire day, outside of the numbnuts that were literally running up Baden-Powell before blowing up… hey, they still owe me a beer, Rene Dorantes and his pacer literally flew past Erik and I like we were walking up Mt. Wilson. We weren’t slacking, mixing in a significant amount of running with power hiking, for this late in the race. We even passed Jorge Pacheco a few minutes later, so we knew we weren’t dogging it. Rene was just dropping the hammer. Running with him earlier in the day, I was so excited to see Rene crush his first 100 miler in under 21 hours and 4^th place overall.

Climbing up Mt. Wilson, Erik and I started chatting about a variety of subjects. As much as I get into my own head late in 100 milers, it was great to have someone to talk with to help pass the time over the most difficult section of the race. I was surprised to hear him say, “Hey man, don’t flip out if you look back here. I just smacked my head on a branch.” Of course I immediately turned around, and saw a decent size chunk of Erik’s melon bleeding from the tree attack. No blood was squirting, so I told him to wrap it up with my shirt and let’s go. There’s not much room for sympathy in the late miles of a 100.

We made excellent time up Mt. Wilson, and then saw the legendary Larry Gassan again in the middle of BFE, waiting for lost souls to make their way up to Dead Man’s Bench. Erik and I talked briefly about taking a quick seat for a picture, but not having sat the entire day and not wanting any negative Karma, we decided to keep moving and finish as quickly as possible. With an updated goal of 21-22 hours, we felt this was an absolute lock if I didn’t do anything else stupid.

We descended and climbed up to Sam Merrill, the AS at mile 89 and the top of the last big climb, and I was ready to make a serious push on the last 11 mile descent to Altadena. As we began pressing downhill, my right calf began to seize up and started to have significant pain. Thankfully the pain was somewhat dull to really F’ing ouch, but there wasn’t a pop and I could still put some pressure on it. Unfortunately, it got worse the more pressure I exerted, so we made an executive call to take it easy on this last descent. Making so many right decisions throughout the day, I was pissed that I couldn’t open up over the last 2ish hours of the race.

Coupled with a bum wheel and losing the trail for several minutes, I wasn’t too stoked to realize the ibuprofen had definitely worn off. What we chalked up to bitching and complaining, and I’d do a hell of a lot of this over the last 3+ hours, I can at least blame the ibuprofen for the slight onset of hyponatremia that crept up again somewhere near mile 93-95. Pissing five (5) times over the last 11 miles without a sip helped, but compounded with a shitty stride, mushy head and technical decent, I was sure ready to get off the damn mountain.

How we made it back to civilization without being passed by 47 runners still blows my mind, but we were able to get our shit together enough… sorry, I was able to get my shit together enough to finish in a respectable 22:31 for 6^th place overall.

Erik and my dad we absolute studs, as they woke up at the crack of dawn to follow me around and care to my every whim throughout this long, hot day. They were the stars of this race, as I was so happy to have them share this awesome day with me, albeit it a wee bit longer than we all expected at mile 75.

What I learned:

• AC is a challenging course that rewards patience and penalizes early mistakes
• The high country (first 25 miles) is majestic, with some seriously breathtaking view… just don’t trip while looking
• The aid stations were well run and stocked, but bring your own gels
• Altra King MT’s can survive a 100 miler, but be prepared for some late mile soreness and swelling
• Patience is not always easy at the start of a race, even an ultramarathon, but its rewarding to see a race plan payoff in the later miles
• Outside of the calf issue, focusing on form throughout the day kept my quads intact and stride relatively efficient

• There are a variety or reasons why people cramp during races, but no matter what the driver, they are not fun to deal with for extended periods of time
• Dehydration is no joke, and I definitely put myself into an early deficit and should’ve brought another bottle
• Acclimatizing to weather is important, and a few sauna treatments don’t make up for zero training in the heat
• Heat management should happen early in a race, even before you think you need it
• It’s imperative to lean into the mountain when cramping for 30 miles, or you will fall off the trail and die
• Not sure if it’s grit or just plain stubbornness, but I was really proud of myself for not quitting

Dude, where’s my shoe?

When asked about destinations for high quality trail running, I’ll be the first to admit that Southern California didn’t crack my top 10. What I love about this crazy sport though, is that a single race can impact perception so greatly. Keira Henniger and her team organize an incredible set of races at Malibu Creek State Park. Only a skip-and-jump away from my college Alma Mater Pepperdine, the Sean O’Brien (SOB) marathon, 50k, 50 mile and 100k events lead runners through the beautiful yet challenging Santa Monica mountain range. Large, long climbs with a backdrop of the Pacific is such a terrible way to spend a Saturday…

Thomas and I decided on an early season 100k to check off our 2018 Western States qualifier, but also as a measure of training effectiveness over the past few months. Since I wasn’t too prepared and La Cuesta Ranch 50k was more of a battle with the elements and terrain than gauge of fitness, I had absolutely no goal time for this race. Thomas was planning to run by heartrate, and I decided to tag along for the adventure, as it would be fun to run with someone and we’re at similar fitness levels.

We left SLO around noonish, and made a stop at the Oxnard REI to check out some hiking pants for Thomas, but more so to putz around for an hour checking out awesome outdoor gear. Living in San Luis Obispo and primarily shopping online, I forgot how cool it is to meander through a huge store actually seeing products in person.

We made our way into Woodland Hills and the race check-in location around 3:30. The SLO Trail Runners internal clocks must’ve been dialed in, because we hopped out of Thomas’ VW Vanagon at the exact same time Ethan, Brent and Tim (Brent’s cousin) were arriving. After catching up about the weather, as it was supposedly ridiculously wet and muddy throughout the course, we made our way inside to pick up our race gear.

Keira runs a tight ship. She set up three different check-in lines depending on the race distance. Altra and Cambelback had also set up booths in our small room, and I was able to play with the new King MT’s, which is Altra’s version of a trail cleat. Sure wish these were on the market before La Cuesta Ranch, as I could’ve used some deeper lugs and at least a centimeter of padding.

Chris Pavolochik, a local up-and-coming trail runner from Santa Maria, seemingly arose from a nap while stumbling into me waiting for the bathroom. We caught up for a few minutes on training and his race plan. He looked fit, and I expected him to do well on the 100k course. After a few minutes of BS’ing with some fellow runners, Thomas and I headed out to Malibu Creek State Park to find our camping spot, have an early dinner and to try and catch some early z’s for our 3:45am wakeup call.

The VW Vanagon is the perfect size vehicle for traveling and dirtbagging in comfort. The main cabin folds out to fit a Full mattress, and the popup section on top of the vehicle does the same. With a propane powered stove and refrigerator, along with an outdoor shower, van living never looked so good. After a short hike and quick dinner, we tried to hit the sack.

Between Pablo and Alejandra, I’m granted about 1 foot of space on our California King, so sleeping in the Reiss Wagen was absolute heaven. Thomas better watch out, or he’ll find me catching a nap in that van from time-to-time…

With a start time of 5:00am and a short drive from the campground to the race start, we got moving at 3:45. The pre-race ritual of leaded coffee, two poop sessions and a quick lube job worked smoothly and I was ready for a playdate with the mountains.

On the starting line, I met Heeva Asefvaziri, a former SLO ultrarunner and current resident of Ojai. Only seeing pictures and hearing stories, I was excited to spend some miles with him. Next to Thomas and I was Coree Woltering, a speedster from the Midwest rocking a speedo, who would be contending for the WS Golden Ticket. Bob Shebest and Jesse Haynes also made their way to the front, and after a few last minute race instructions by Keira, we were off.

The first couple miles were choppy, as we hit some single track and it was pitch black. Not wanting to cart around my headlamp for the entire day, my plan was to bring a cheap one and ditch it at an aid station once the sun came out. The golden rule in ultras is to not try anything new on race day, and using a new headlamp definitely falls into this category. This chincy ass “light” was a train wreck! It bounced up-and-down on nearly every step, emitted less lumens than an iPhone, and the adjustment component was apparently broken so after a few strides, the light would snap straight down. I ended up holding the lamp in my hand and then storing it in my pack anyway, so not making this mistake again. After a chilly early morning nuts deep creek crossing, we started our first large ascent of the day.

With all the recent rain in California, Keira was forced to make some last minute modifications to the course. Essentially, the race would be two separate out-and-backs starting at the Corral Canyon aid station 6.5 miles into the race, and then a return trip back to the start/finish. This change would shorten the course by 1.5 miles and also lower the climbing by approximately 1,000ft. If only she could’ve dried the course out too.

The first 1,800ft climb was steep but fortunately on jeep road, so we had the opportunity to separate after the earlier singletrack miles. Not wearing a HR monitor but feeling like my effort level was higher than it should be 3 miles into a 62 mile race, I slowed down and met up with Thomas. Heeva decided to take off, and we wouldn’t see him again until he surprised us by dropping down to the 50k and running past us an hour-ish later.

We ran into Dominck Layfield, another recent So Cal transplant and excellent runner originally from UT via England. Dom had set the course record on the Spine Race in his home country only a couple weeks prior to SOB, and he add already inked his WS ticket, so this would only be a training run for him. He still beat both of us…

After running with Dom for awhile, Chris caught up to Thomas and I. He was excited and seemed to be pacing himself well. He asked if it was ok to run with us, and not having any inkling of his abilities outside of recent race results, we told him to tag along unless we were holding him back. Chris proceeded to run the next 25-30 miles with us, and ended up finishing around 11 hours for a solid 27^th place.

As the minutes and miles clicked by, Thomas and I stuck to his HR as a barometer of effort, while I kept track of the mileage. Since a HR strap burns through a watch battery quicker than a hooker in stilettos, the only way to simultaneously use the HR and GPS options on a longer ultra is to tweak the settings to pull coordinates by the minute instead of the second. This greatly impacts the accuracy of the watch, but having two guys share duties made it work.

Not having any idea of where we were within the race, we set a goal of not being passed by any runners after mile 10. Assuming we paced ourselves properly, and considering the ridiculous amount of runners that passed us on that first climb, I felt confident we’d hit this goal.

Heading out on the first out-and-back, we made our way down a long descent to the Pacific Coast Highway, running right near Pepperdine. Watching the front runners make their way back up the climb, we tried to keep track of the total to better estimate where we stood. Chris Wehan and Ryan Kaiser were the early front runners, and they would hold on to ink their WS tickets several hours later. Bob Shebest was in an early fifth, but he’s known to pace himself well in the early miles. I stopped counting as we hit the last couple miles before the aid station, as the terrain became absolutely battered. The recent storms had destroyed this area of “trail,” and we were forced to power hike on a section that should’ve been runnable.

Making our way into the aid station at the bottom of PCH somewhere around mile 23-24 and after a quick fill up, we flipped around and started the 2,300ft. climb back up and through the trough. The first mile of climbing out of this aid station was our slowest of the day, as we were forced to hike/wade/slip through thick, blanketing slop. After literally stopping a couple times to clean off our shoes with rocks or whatever was in scraping distance, we continued onward back to the Corral Canyon aid station for our second out-and-back.

During the section of trail, we ran past runners competing in both the 50k and 50 mile races. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue even on singletrack, as the slower runners tend to move off to the side. Unfortunately on this 1-2 mile portion of trail, there would be no way to step off the course as it was the muddiest portion of god awful I’ve ever run on. After being trampled on by hundred of runners, I couldn’t keep my shoes from sucking off on nearly every stride. Thomas had already pulled away, and I hit a section of downhill where I flipped the “Fuck it” switch and just opened up. VERY unfortunately for the runners dragging their asses up this hill, as I was tired of losing my shoes/sanity, but there weren’t many places to go.

KABOOM!

I ran right into a group of runners, as they were literally motionless standing in the middle of the trail. Possibly their first 50k and not comfortable in these types of conditions, either way it was a shit show. After some quick apologies and a confirmation that no one was injured, I finally made it out of the mud pits and back into runnable terrain.

Catching back up to Thomas a few minutes later, we ran together for awhile and then split apart again shortly thereafter. Moving ahead slightly, I decided to run with a So Cal runner named Vishal. Of all the runners we passed from mile 10 to the finish, this is the one guy we couldn’t shake. We may have exchanged leads 6-8 times throughout the race, as he would seemingly pass on a climb and we would overtake him on the downhill. Since he was keeping a solid pace, we continued to run together for several miles leading back up to Corral Canyon, and on the climb up to Bulldog. Thomas pulled back up as we started the long descent from Bulldog. We made our way into the mile 45 aid station, and after a quick shirt change by Thomas, we started the last long climb of the race.

Somewhere around mile 49, we finally decided to separate and run our own pace for the remainder of the race. I tried to make a push and catch a few runners over the last 10ish miles, as we had run a conservative race and had some left in the tank. As we were still on an out-and-back, I ran into several racers that were making their way down to the 45 aid station. Walt, Jimmy Dean Freeman, Ethan, Brent and Edder all passed by as I tried to make some headway on the runners ahead. The second place woman was the first person I passed, as she was hiking up back towards Bulldog. We chatted briefly, letting her know that she had a gap on F3, and she should be ok hiking this hill and them moving on the flats and descents.

With a quick fill up on Fluid at the last aid station (mile 53), I headed out for the final 6-7 miles. Passing another runner before heading out, Louis Secreto would eventually catch up and pass me heading down towards the final creek crossing. Since I felt strong on the climbs and there were a few hills before the finish, I was able to catch back up with only a mile or so to go. Instead of killing each other, we decided to finish together and enjoy each others company for the last few minutes. We crossed the line simultaneously, but with chip timing he beat me by three seconds.

Finishing in 16^th place in 10:14 and running even splits (the same pace for the back half as the first half of the race), I was satisfied with the day. Thomas came in only a few minutes behind, as he spent the last couple miles pushing Sabrina, the 2^nd place female, into a spot at Western States.

After catching up briefly with some racers and having a quick shower, Thomas and I made our way back to SLO… but not before crushing some In-N-Out.

Here’s a garmin link for those interested in the numbers (the watch died with around a mile or so to go)

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/1558692339

What I Learned

• Early pacing in an ultra nearly always pays dividends in the later miles
• An early season race done at a fitness level under 100% is completely ok, as long as you modify expectations
• Racing with someone at a similar fitness level is an excellent way to spend miles
• Albeit a bit sticky, the So Cal trails are big and beautiful
• In-N-Out still tastes amazing, even after 4 years of not eating meat

Wet… Muddy… Windy… Sloppy… Awesome!!!

If you’re not too familiar with the condition of the vast majority of trails in San Luis Obispo when wet, try to imagine the love child of molasses and Elmer’s glue. Aside from sections of Cuesta Ridge, you’re not making it too far on single track when it’s raining in SLO. Enter the second addition of Luis Escobar’s La Cuesta Ranch Trail Runs. With 10k, 25k and 50k distances, Luis built a course to fit a variety of fancies.

La Cuesta Ranch, located at the end of Loomis next to Cuesta park in northern San Luis Obispo, sits on several thousand acres of rolling hills that connect to both Poly Canyon and West Cuesta Ridge. Owned and operated by the Miossi Family for multiple generations, La Cuesta Ranch is now primarily a venue for weddings. With a beautifully rustic but functional barn, this would be an excellent location to tie the knot. Being only five minutes away from downtown SLO, but with a feel that you’re hundreds of miles away from civilization, this is also a perfect venue for a trail race!

With California being in the midst of an epic drought, the running joke here on the Central Coast is that we could solve all of our states water problems in a few weeks by just putting on more Luis Escobar events. La Cuesta Ranch Year Two wouldn’t disappoint.

The inaugural La Cuesta Ranch race was an absolute blast, sprinkled with several challenging sections due to a downpour the previous night. Several runners competing in the 25 and 50k’s literally lost their shoes while attempting to navigate a several hundred meter mud trough that they’d be forced to cross twice each loop. Fortunately, we couldn’t identify this trough in 2017. Unfortunately, the entire course became the trough in year two.

On the Monday before the race, I met up with some fellow runners at La Cuesta Ranch to help scout a portion of trail with Luis. Alex the German joined us on his trip back from dirtbagging in the Sierras. Kerry, who would be racing her first ultra at the ranch, joined us too. Gabe, fresh off his first 50 mile finish at Cherry Canyon and hungry for another ultra, came out as well. On a beautiful afternoon, we spent a couple hours chatting, running and hiking around the Miossi property. The trails were dry and fast.

With a change in the course this year, Luis peeled back one mile from each loop, totaling 14ish miles for the 25k and 28ish miles for the 50k. Deciding to build a loop into the course this year that cancelled two out-and-backs, Luis brought runners up Stagecoach Rd. and then down/up the Rollercoaster Trail. This modification added nearly 400ft per lap, offering over 6,500ft. of climbing for the “50k.”

On the night before the race, the Running Warehouse was kind enough to host a fun Q&A with Luis Escobar and Arnulfo Quimare. Arnulfo is a tarahumara runner living in the Copper Canyons of Mexico, that was one of the key characters in Chris McDougal’s hit, “Born to Run.” A legendary runner, Arnulfo beat Scott Jurek, while he was in his prime, on a 50  mile race in the Copper Canyons… in sandals! Fueled by several pints of local ale, a local trail runner Edder, assisted with the Q&A. We had a great time asking Arnulfo questions, and catching up with friends. One of the more poignant questions with the impending storm, was if Arnulfo would be ok running through mud in his huaraches/sandals. He didn’t seem to mind, so neither did we.

With weather reports showing the storm of the century sweeping through the Central Coast, I crossed the fingers that we would get lucky and have some reprieve on race day. The ultra gods didn’t grant my wish.

Race day was sloppy… really F’ing sloppy!

Alejandra and I made the long commute of 4 miles door-to-door to the ranch. She volunteered as the timekeeper for the race, under a dry tent, with a freaking heater next to her for 5 hours.  We definitely should’ve switched jobs!

With a start time of 7:00am, we congregated around the “starting line,” which at a Luis race is wherever the hell he says “GO.” As is typical in ultras, we spend the lead up time to a race catching up with friends and likely meeting new ones. This race was no different, other than some of the elite runners that graced us with their presence. Guillermo Medina, a former powerhouse of a runner had returned to racing after taking off some time to raise his kiddos. Cassie Scallon, a recent transplant to Santa Barbara, joined us with an incredibly impressive resume. Keira Henniger, the RD for the Sean O’Brien 100k, Leona Divide 50, several other So Cal races and also an excellent runner in her own right, joined the party too. Jesse Haynes, Keira’s husband and a three time top 10 finisher at Western States, came out as well to crew. Arnulfo Quimare, the King of the Copper Canyons would also be toeing the line. For a small, local race on a day with terrible conditions, we had a solid lineup for the 50k.

After Luis’ detailed course instructions… “Follow the ribbons. If you see blue, you’re lost,” we were sent off to tackle this hellish course.

No more than 200 meters after we started, the mud party began. Arnulfo and I ran together for the first few miles, with Cassie close behind. Climbing towards the first aid station, and trying not to lose our shoes/sandals, the effort level felt too high for how slow we were running.

Deciding to wear Icebugs, which are essentially minimalist cleats, helped dramatically to increase traction from zero to at least 3%. The clay which makes up the majority of the soil content on the ranch, is tacky as all hell, and eats at the foot with each strike. Pulling the leg up takes literally 3-5x the effort as running on nearly any other surface.

Essentially, this shit “sucked!”

Making our way towards the first aid station, Edder and Walt were literally holding the fort down, as they picked the windiest section of the race to set up a water stop. Thankfully we were moving, albeit at a snails pace, but able to keep warm, as these guys were in for a long day. With not much of a plan other than survival, the only section of “runnable” trail would be the 3.7 mile climb up Stagecoach to Shooters/Rollercoaster and possibly the couple miles of Rollercoaster back into the ranch, so I decided to push this section on both of the loops to either establish a gap or try to catch up to whomever was in front. Surprisingly, I was in the lead heading into the 2^nd aid station, which was manned by SLO Trail Runners. Brent, Tera and Jody took care of the famished throughout the day, and thankfully weren’t banished to the wind tunnel that Edder and Walt had to survive.

The climb up Stagecoach to Rollercoaster was at least familiar, but still ascended nearly 1,500ft primarily in the first four miles. With the rain holding off at this point in the race but deciding to wear a jacket because it looked ready to pour at any second, I contemplated dumping the coat with Tera, but thankfully kept it on. West Cuesta Ridge can be one of the windiest areas in SLO, as it didn’t disappoint on race day, as it was absolutely howling.

Making it off Rollercoaster and back onto the ranch, we backtracked to Edder and Walt’s aid station, and then continued down a couple miles of windy jeep road. This section was perfect for opening up in 2016, as the grade was slightly downhill, and hard enough to not stick entirely to your shoes. Unfortunately, the terrain slowed this section by two minutes/mile this year, and all we could manage was to tiptoe on the small patches of grass to try and steal an ounce of traction.

Heading into my favorite portion of this course, the last two miles of each loop consist of a 530ft. climb and 700ft. descent. Increasing the “fun” of this section, there is absolutely no trail. Runners simply hike or run up the ridgeline of the property bordering Poly Canyon, and then after hitting the peak, point and shoot down the mountain.

Heading up the ridge, I took a peak down the twisty descent to see how close Arnulfo and Cassie were. I couldn’t see Arnulfo, but there were a few blind spots from this viewpoint and I expected him to be close. Cassie was also close behind, no more than a couple minutes back.

Heading up the quarter mile road to the start/finish, I checked in with the sexy timekeeper, and grabbed a quick bite while Mauricio helped to fill up my bottles. With two excellent runners close behind, I didn’t want to waste any time.

With no idea how close Arnulfo or Cassie were, I pushed a bit harder than I should have until the Stagecoach climb. Hitting the aid station, Tera offered a shot of Fireball which surprisingly didn’t sound good. I must have been pushing too hard.

The second Stagecoach to Rollercoaster climb was uneventful, yet no less difficult. Fortunately the wheels didn’t fall off, and I was able to make it into Edder and Walt’s final aid station still with a lead. The two miles of soggy clay descent wasn’t a blast, but made it to the ridge climb in one piece.

With several races overlapping in the late morning, there were now 10k and 25k runners sharing the course. Peeking back again from the ridge, there were several runners either descending or starting the climb, and unfortunately I couldn’t determine if any of them were chasing me down. Closing in on the peak, Mauricio who was playing double duty as the aid station captain and cameraman, greeted me at the top of the climb. With thankfully only a 700ft treacherous descent remaining, I was able to stay upright making it back to civilization.

As is customary with most Luis Escobar finishes, a shot of Fireball signifies the completion of the course. Fortunately, this time it sounded like a great idea! Albeit a shorter course than 2016, with the terrain and additional climbing, I don’t feel like too much of a piker claiming the course record in 4:24.

What I Learned

• Running through a 28 mile mud trough is an excellent strength building workout, if you’re legs don’t get ripped off in the process
• Shoe choice is important, as I learned after the race that Arnulfo swapped out his huaraches for shoes after the first loop
• Throw time goals out the window when the conditions go sour. Checking my watch for pace was useless, as my HR was pegged throughout most of the day regardless of where we were
• Prepare to be sore for much longer than planned when playing in the mud for 4+ hours
• Volunteers truly make our sport. Without the selfless support of so many to make these events happen, we wouldn’t be able to experience ridiculously nasty, yet really fun races
• Don’t do a beer mile after an ultra!!!

One of my favorite places to run, Montana de Oro (“Mountain of Gold” in Spanish) is a California State Park located approximately 20 minutes Southwest of San Luis Obispo. With 8,000ish acres of coastline, rugged hills, and challenging trails, MdO has a little something for everyone. Aside from the recently introduced SLO Ultra and La Cuesta Ranch 50k, the MdO races have been the only ultra option for locals. For over 10 years, Pacific Coast Trail Runs has been staging a variety of trail races at MDO, and the newcomer Coastal Trail Runs began their own set of races in 2010.

Wendell, the Coastal Trail Runs race director and accomplished ultrarunner, has four distances for his December event (5 mile, 7 mile, 25k and 50k). All races start from Spooner’s Cove and head south along the flat Bluffs trail for 2 miles before turning up and starting the climb to Valencia Peak. The 5 milers head back down to the finish after climbing a few hundred feet. The remaining racers continue the technical climb to Valencia’s 1,347ft peak. A rocky, steep ascent, Valencia is the most unforgiving of MdO’s three peaks (Valencia, Hazard and Oat’s). Considering the technical terrain and grade, thankfully runners only double back for approximately a quarter mile, before taking a right turn onto smooth single track that descends back into Spooner’s Cove. 

For the 7-8 milers, the adventure is complete after looping back into Spooner’s Cove. The 25/50k runners are just getting warmed up as they are rewarded with a 1,325ft. climb to the top of Hazards Peak. After a quick fill up at the Spooner’s Cove aid station, racers start the three mile climb up Hazards.

Compared to Valencia, the Hazards Peak climb is very runnable, with a more gradual incline. By itself, the climb up Hazards is a definite handful, but after getting beat up by Valencia, it somehow seems a bit more manageable. After hitting the peak, runners take a sharp left turn and start a descent towards the East Boundary trail. After picking up a rubber band to verify that you made it to the turnaround, racers make their way back up again to Hazards Peak and then down the three mile descent back into Spooner’s Cove. For the runners tackling the 25k, thankfully your day is done. For the runners battling the 50k, a second loop of all of the above commences.

The Spooner’s Cove races hold a special place in my heart as this was my first introduction to the 50k distance. I also have some unfinished business on this course, as my first experience was an epic blowup that to this day, was the worst I’ve ever felt in an ultra. Only tackling the 25k this year, I’ll have to seek 50k retribution at a later date.

Thomas and I have been training together since late October, and it’s been great as we’re at relatively similar fitness levels. He still dominates me anytime we do anything remotely fast, and his climbing has definitely improved no doubt in part to a summer packed with awesome hikes (please see blog post on the Tahoe Rim Trail). His HR is also much lower than mine when we run tempos or harder effort workouts. Thinking this through, he’s actually much fitter than me…

With mileage totals barely cracking 50/wk and no long runs over 20 miles in these first few weeks of training, we decided to race the Spooner’s Cove 25k in December. Not having raced anything shorter than a 100 miles since April, minus the annual Turkey Trot in Pinole and a 5k fun run in November, I was excited at the opportunity to run against Thomas on a course and distance that suits us both well.

Race Day Conditions… Wet and Slippery, unfortunately not just how I like it.

Thankfully we didn’t get poured on, but Mother Nature had her way in the lead up to the race, and the ground was left soggy in several patches. After checking in, saying hi to all the local runners and taping up Mark’s feet, a fellow SLO Trailrunner that blistered up from a hike the day before, we were off.

Thomas and I headed out with Greg Scott, a local runner with a sub 15k PR. If he was even remotely fit with a couple long runs under his belt, we were going to get our asses handed to us. This was Greg’s first trail race, and he did not disappoint. We ran together for the first few miles before starting the climb up Valencia. in looking back before the climb, we noticed that Dylan was also running well, likely near the lead of the 5 mile.

Greg started to pull away on the initial ascent, and I decided to push and try to stay close, not knowing if he would implode in the later miles. Thomas was close behind, as was another local runner sporting a UCLA singlet with long hair. Heading up the Valencia climb, I could definitely feel my heartrate increasing, but hoped that the long descent would give me enough rest before climbing up Hazards.

For as rocky as the climb up Valencia is, and it is damn rocky, there were a few hundred meters of the slipperiest mud in SLO County. After falling several times in the first few strides and using every curse word in my vocabulary, I was forced to waddle my way back up to the rocky single track. Thomas and UCLA closed the small gap after the slip-and-slide incident, so I decided to push again to the ascent. Cresting Valencia with another small gap on Thomas and UCLA, I decided to open up on the descent back to Spooner’s Cove. Knowing that Thomas was much faster than me on the Hazards descent, the only slim chance I had to hold him off would be to put some time on him before the turnaround after Hazard’s Peak.

The descent off of Valencia is a newly developed several miles of extremely runnable, buffed out trail. Aside from the 5 mile and 7 mile runners that we shared this section with, you can definitely open up on this stretch of trail.

Making my way back into Spooner’s Cove in second place with Greg likely a couple minutes ahead, I picked up my water bottle and started the climb up to Hazards. My plan was to push this climb hard, as I knew that if Thomas were within even a few minutes before the turnaround, he’d likely pass me on the return. A couple miles into the climb as I was settling into a steady pace, I heard heavy footsteps, as UCLA blasted by me like I was hiking. I had to check my watch a couple times to make sure I wasn’t dogging it, but in fact he may have been literally flying. I’ve never raced with someone that could climb that effortlessly. As he was disappearing into the distance I shouted, “How far back is the German?” He responded with, “Pretty close, probably a minute or two.” If the Vegas lines were open on our race, I would’ve bet that farm on UCLA to hunt Greg down.

Continuing the climb up to Hazard’s I looked back a few times to check on Thomas, but thankfully couldn’t see him. After cresting the climb, Wendell took us down the backside of Hazards towards East Boundary. Likely not noticing that the new trail descending off Valencia added some mileage, we went approximately a mile past the turnaround spot Thomas and I originally planned on. Not knowing how far we were going to descend, at least I was able to see Greg and UCLA on this out-and-back section. Greg had several minutes on me, and UCLA was not too far behind, so I didn’t expect to give either chase.

Hitting the turnaround and picking up my rubber band, I checked my watch so I could approximate how far back Thomas was as I made my way back up to Hazard’s. Climbing back up to the peak, I passed Thomas after a minute and change. Knowing that the climb would be more difficult than the descent, I expected to have around 2+ minutes. Based on his downhill speed, I calculated that this could get ugly.

Hitting the peak for the second time, there were only three miles of downhill running to go. Trying to open up on the descent, with runners making their way up to Hazard’s for the first time, we were forced to tippy toe around each other to avoid contact. With my HR pegged from both climbs up Hazard’s, thankfully these last few miles provided a slight respite to the wind I’d been sucking for the past 45 minutes. Not certain on where Thomas was or if he was closing, I worried about controlling what I could control.

Stay relaxed… don’t over stride… quick turnover…

Looking back a few times throughout the descent, I didn’t spot Thomas but knew he was likely closing. Hitting the road at the end of the trail, runners have less than a half mile of sandy single track to navigate before dropping into Spooner’s Cove. Trying not to slip on the wet and semi-technical descent, thankfully I made it into Spooner’s Cove and sprinted to the finish a hair in front of Thomas, finishing third in 2:13.

Catching up after the race, I learned that UCLA had a name. Steven Youngblood is a youngster that recently graduated and had run for the Bruins club team. He finished in 2:11, so he gave back some of the gap he’d built from flying up Hazards, but watching him climb was the highlight of my day. Greg Scott finished in 2:05, which is 11 minutes off the course record, but would’ve likely beat it had the race not been 1.5ish miles long. Thomas finished in 2:16. Ethan finished in 2:39. Beth finished in 2:40. Chad finished in 2:46. Brent finished in 2:55. Tom finished in 3:21.  Marian finished right behind Tom also in 3:21. Mike finished in 3:25, and Jeremiah finished his first 25k in 3:40 after nursing a big leg cramp for 10+ minutes. Emily and Kymberly finished together in 4:19. Dylan smoked the 5 mile race and set the course record in 41:53… guess speed runs in the family.

Beers, snacks and congratulations were shared by all. Had a blast racing around MDO with the SLO Trailrunners, and can’t wait for some redemption at the 50k distance next time.

What I learned:

• Light, road shoes are comfy and fast when the trail isn’t soaked, but not the greatest idea when it is
• Fitness wins! With zero experience racing on the trails, Greg absolutely crushed the field with his sub 15min 5k speed.
• Control what you can control. I worried too much about where I was in relation to Thomas, that I should’ve focused my energy on moving as quickly and efficiently as possible.
• Shorter races can hurt just as bad, if not worse than an ultra
• MDO is absolutely majestic. If you haven’t experienced these trails, come visit!