I was on an ultramarathon Reddit page when I made a comment on a post about underestimating ultramarathons, mentioning how I felt ultras were more difficult than Ironman was for me. Then there was this reply to my comment:
“How do you know when someone has done an Ironman? Don’t worry, they’ll tell you.”
This is an old joke, and probably pretty fitting for most of us Ironman finishers. The guy thought that he was pretty witty I guess, even though it wasn’t even an original joke. Some people just feel the need to belittle others. I initially took his comment as an insult and then told him to stick it, and he then confirmed his insulting nature by trying to belittle me some more. A bully hiding behind his keyboard that I didn’t waste any more time on.
But it got me wondering if it was true? Could I be a little over the top with Ironman pride? Yeah, guilty as charged. I’m proud of being an Ironman, damn proud of it actually. It was something that I never thought was possible for me. I couldn’t swim 100 yards in a pool without stopping, and the thought of biking more than a century and then running a marathon after all of that – used to boggle my mind. I would watch the Ironman race on television and think that these people were superhuman.
Most finishers feel the accomplishment is worthy of celebration. We buy the gear – and wear it. We refuse to take off the athlete wristband for weeks after the race is over. Some follow a long-held tradition of getting the “M-dot” tattoo, usually on the right calf. Talk about telling others that you are in an elite club.
But this is not the first time I got the feeling that I need to dial it back. After my first finish, I took to wearing my new Ironman Wisconsin hoodie, the one with the athlete names on the back of it, every chance I could. Another dad, who liked to raze me, mentioned that I was wearing that hoodie – AGAIN. Touché, but did I dial it back?
Heck no! One Ironman finish became two, then three, four, and currently I am up to five. I wear the finisher jackets, the Ironman hats, t-shirts, and hoodies. I drink my coffee from my Ironman race mugs. I started this blog to document the training and the racing, but there’s definitely some level of pride going into it. I want the memories to be there for me when I am older. Although I write them for myself, others visit the site, looking for race insights and maybe some inspiration. I like to write about running, triathlon, and Ironman, I’m not making any excuses for bragging a little.
At home, it may even be worse. I have a room dedicated to running medals, race posters, and memorabilia. I have a similar shrine to myself in my office at work. Guilty, guilty, guilty.
My shrine to myself at work.
I’m not sure if there are many more races in the cards for me. I may not earn another Ironman finisher medal, jacket, name t-shirt, hat, or plaque with pictures of me working hard to earn those things and that title of Ironman. I’m going through some injuries right now and realize that I will get over them, but at 60 it’s not getting easier. So I will look back on those five Ironman finishes and cherish them, and maybe brag a little about it.
As they say, “Suffer for 140.6 miles, brag for a lifetime.”
If there’s one thing I consistently do as a runner it’s having bad ideas and then acting on them. On Thursday I had already decided to skip this race having dealt with high hamstring tendonitis for over a month, a lack of running for three weeks, and the weather showing rain and snow the day before. Since this trail race has many stretches of dirt sections, I didn’t want to deal with it being muddy. But on Friday I opted for an easy 3 miles on the treadmill and found that my butt pain from the tendonitis wasn’t any worse for it, planting the bad seed in my head. What if I show up and just take it easy? Walk the hills, run slow, and have a plan to bail if things turn bad. And that’s how bad ideas get acted upon.
Saturday morning was the complete opposite of Friday weather-wise. It was bright and sunny and not horribly cold. I picked up my race packet and then milled around the start line waiting for the start. I joked with the race director that at least it wasn’t last year with its stupid 11 degrees F. at the start. Or the year before last, a mudbath of a run.
The countdown began and I thought about how I bolted from the start last year and led the race briefly. Maybe I could lead this race for a bit this year too! I took my spot on the line, but I wasn’t alone there this year. I was out-bolted by a woman who looked to be taking the race very seriously, and she would end up finishing third overall. Well, that was one bad idea averted.
The previous day’s weather left a small amount of an icy snow-like covering which was melting quickly. I’d rather my feet get wet as I progressed through the race and not at the start, but here I was dealing with wet toes not even a 1/4 mile into it. Thankfully, I had applied plenty of lube to my feet for just that reason.
As we got to the first hill, I decided to implement my hill-walking strategy. The hills aren’t overly difficult, but rather just a bunch of rollers one after another. By the time three miles had been run, I felt like I had warmed up somewhat, both overall and with my butt tendonitis, making running seemingly okay. I must be doing things right. About four miles into the run I decided that the windbreaker of a jacket needed to go, so I stopped at a little table that was unmanned and had a jug or two of water sitting on it. I took off my jacket and a couple of upcoming runners gave me a hearty “THANK YOU!” mistaking me for a volunteer. “Guys, I’m running too – but you’re welcome!” It lifted my spirits.
Soon afterward, I got to an open area and the cold headwind made my sweaty body rethink taking the jacket off, but I knew I’d be back in the woods soon. Passing a very vocal volunteer aid station, I was high-fived by a toddler who was enjoying his moment and headed into the technical part of the run.
An hour into the run, I ate one of the two gels I had brought along to keep me fueled for the run and tried to concentrate on my footstrike as I ate it. As I went to put the wrapper back into the pocket of my handheld water bottle, I realized that the second gel was not there. I thought I might be in bad shape without it, and I could have dropped it within the last quarter mile, but I decided to keep pressing on instead of doubling back to look for it. They will have something at the aid station to eat in less than two miles.
I pressed on and soon saw my bad influence of a friend Jodi, returning back toward the start finish. She was in the 50K and had an hour head start on me. She was walking and acting like she was in some pain, and I thought that maybe I might catch her before I finished if she truly was suffering. Fat chance, as I later saw her again with a mile to go running just fine. She’s not a quitter.
I was running through the area where I had tripped and fallen the year before, but I never saw the root that had tripped me up. The course was in better shape than the past two years, and there weren’t really any hidden dangers. I kept stepping on little sticks that would then be elevated and I would catch my trailing foot on them, almost tripping myself three times, but I was never really concerned with actually falling this year.
I had been running by myself for quite a while, nobody directly ahead of me or behind me and wasn’t really sure where I was in the field. At the 7.75-mile turnaround, I refilled my water bottle, grabbed a mini Snickers bar as a replacement for my lost gel, and then headed back toward the start. I was very surprised by the many runners still heading to the turnaround. I thought I had been bringing up the rear of this race.
I was feeling pretty good but decided I needed to hold back any uptick in pace until I was closer to three miles to go. As I neared the spot where I lost my gel I kept my eyes on the ground looking for it and when it appeared in the mud I literally shouted “YES!” and stopped to pick it up. The runner behind me was a little surprised at my enthusiasm at this spot in the race, but I explained how I had just found the gel I had lost and that it may be vital to me finishing the race.
At that point, I had a little surge of adrenaline and realized that this guy could be a good pacer for me. I matched his pace for a while, but as we hit the technical hills, he was more adventurous than I was and bounded up and down them with ease, whereas I exerted caution to not fall and break something.
I was starting to feel the effect of the hills and getting a little low on energy. At two hours into the run, I decided to eat my recovered gel. As I was eating it, another runner overtook me and I could tell he was probably in my age group. We chatted a bit and he became my second pacer, trying to keep up with him with four miles of the race to go. A little earlier than my planned push, but I tried. But even with eating the gel, I was hitting the wall. Not running in the past three weeks, having not done any long runs longer than eight miles in the past month, was starting to remind me that this bad idea may lead to a crash and burn. I walked more, and before long the guy was out of sight.
I was hoping for more hills just so I could have more walk time. I remembered that I had a Snickers bar in my possession and decided to start eating it. I’m so glad that I had it, or I might have been in really bad shape. I chewed it until it was basically liquid, washed it down with water, and hoped that the sugar would be quickly uploaded to my muscles.
Two miles left and I found my final pacer, a woman who was also walking hills but had a stronger running pace than I had at the moment. I kept trying to keep up but she was heading strong into the final stretch. At a mile to go, I heard another runner or two coming up behind me quickly. I said to the first guy “Can I borrow some of your extra adrenaline?” and he said he was using it all. And just like that we were both passed by the leader of the 50K. I knew that might be coming, but I was still surprised that it happened. “Oh shit! I just got passed by the 50K leader!” He offered some encouragement and I looked back to see who else might be coming.
I made the turn back onto the grass and looked back up the road and kept looking back – nobody there. I was spent and decided to walk the hill up toward the finish, maybe a quarter-mile to go and looked again – two people! Where did they come from? I picked up the pace. I saw my wife Kari and asked if they were gaining on me. I think she thought I was crazy, as they were pretty far back. But I was running on fumes. I kept looking over my shoulder and as I made the final turn I could see that I had no challengers. I began walking and about five feet from the finish, three guys standing around started yelling encouragement – “YOU GOT THIS!” I got this? I’m literally five feet from the finish. It struck me as odd and hilarious at the same time. I crossed the finish, hit stop, and was thankful I survived this really bad idea.
I met Kari, drank some Coke and Gatorade, ate a piece of banana, warmed myself in the truck, and then waited for the award ceremony. Second in the age group, finishing behind the guy who passed me at the 11-mile mark. He finished four minutes ahead of me, which was the time I finished this race last year.
Exhausted, but happy to be done.
Time to rest, recover, and start training for the next bad idea. Thanks for reading.
I just can’t seem to break the injury cycle. I recover and then push myself too hard and then reaggravate the injury or discover a new one. I’m currently dealing with high hamstring tendinopathy, also known to runners as a pain in the butt. My hamstrings are too tight, I hate stretching, and I’m old, a perfect combination for this infliction. So I am back to laying off running and walking instead, and it’s been nice enough during this “fake” spring to get on the bike and ride outside every once in a while.
I have to admit that I miss riding a bike, that is until something reminds me how angry I can get at people on the trail for being idiots. This past week it was a guy who just had to be the guy to run on the wrong side of the trail, which means toward me on the side I am riding on. Everyone else on the trail followed the rules except this guy. I encountered him twice, and both times I had to adjust what I was doing because he was in the wrong position. It’s people like him who remind me why I use only a small portion of the trail to get to the safer roads to ride on. It’s funny that I feel safer riding on roads with traffic than I do riding on the trail. At least most people are following the rules on the roads.
The winds of “fake” spring have been blowing pretty hard lately, often influencing which type of non-running exercise I will do. Today I considered riding, but thought the winds would be too strong. My wife Kari suggested a walk instead, and we both agreed to head to the local tree-lined running path to have a buffer from the wind.
As we walked east I complained about the fact that I once again had overdressed for the day. Not a problem for someone dressed in layers, but it’s never comfortable having to deal with a bulky jacket wrapped around your waist. It wasn’t too long into the walk that I started thinking about all the miles I had put on this trail over a couple decades. I looked up ahead and could see the bridge that spans over Route 45, taking trail users to and from downtown Frankfort, Illinois. I have run and biked over it many times, but today my memory was jogged to a half marathon that I ran several years ago in which the bridge came at the end of the race, maybe about mile 12.5 or so. There’s a hill to the crest to get over the bridge, which pales in comparison to the many hills that this race route had before it, but it comes when you are spent and it is one last challenge before gliding into the race finish. I remembered that my race tactic was to pace hard to the hill, pull back a little heading up it, then hammer it downhill for the last half-mile.
Old Plank Road Trail bridge, Frankfort, IL
Kari and I continued east turning around about 3.75 miles from where we started and walked west into the wind back toward the car. As we passed a local park we both found ourselves examining the empty field and I asked her if she was remembering all the soccer games we sat watching our youngest child Becca play there.
Arriving back at the truck, I hit the stop button on my watch at 7.5 miles and thought about how the trip down this trail had not only given my legs a workout but my mind as well. And given that I had spent two special hours with my partner in life, I think I had just created a new memory to be reminded of the next time I wander east on the OPRT in Frankfort on a windy, almost spring day.
I ran and walked through a 10-mile run the other day in just under two hours. I looked at my watch and remarked that I used to be able to run 10 miles in 70 minutes. I haven’t done a lot of half-marathons, but all of them have been 1:40 or less. Both of those efforts seem like an impossibility now. And I don’t even want to race a 5K anymore for fear of my finish time showing how slow I have become. I have become older and slower and it bugs me.
It is probably no surprise to most people that aging will cause you to slow down, making once easy things seem difficult at times in your older years. Except for runners, runners think that they will continue to run in their 50+ years just like they did in their 20s. But eventually runner me has to at least acknowledge the red flags my aging body is waving emphatically in my face. I’m slowing down, I’m struggling with muscle soreness, I take forever to recover, injuries linger, and it seems like I redline my heart rate on the easiest of runs. I guess I expected to slow down as I aged, but I was expecting it to be more gradual, not a sudden fall off just because the age odometer hit the big 6-0.
It hasn’t been easy for me to admit that I’m not the runner I used to be, not that I was anything great but I always tried to push myself to my greatest potential and the younger me benchmark can no longer be met. Once you hit 35-40 years old, the sport labels you as a “masters” runner, which allows you to compete against older runners instead of just the younger athletes, but I was still doing quite well at that age. Masters shmasters. As I got into my 50s, I was on another level, competing well, beating 30-somethings in the local road races, accomplishing five Ironman finishes, qualifying for the Boston Marathon, and setting new personal bests. I set my marathon PR of 3:25 just before turning 53 years old. I’m not sure that I could hold that average marathon pace of 7:52 min/mile for even a 5K right now.
Doom and gloom are starting to set in. But I don’t want running to end for me. Some can let it go quite easily. They tire of their bodies hurting, other endeavors have replaced running, or just maybe the flame of interest has flickered and died out. It isn’t that easy for me. I’ve kept track of every run since 1989. Memories of all those training runs and races are very special to me. Running has been my thing for 35 years. I want to keep that going. It seems that I need to reinvent myself and set new expectations and goals. I can’t run in the past, I have to run in the now and look to the future because I refuse to let my running life die.
So how do I create a new runner me? Other than running just for the sake of running, there are really two things about running that one can pursue – running fast and running far. I think that the running fast portion is the one I will struggle with the most now. The past couple of years have shown that I’m slowing down, but I have set new distance personal bests and I enjoy seeking that distance potential. It’s pretty clear to me that going far outweighs going fast at this point. Here are some things I need to consider and change:
Stop focusing on what you can’t do, and focus on what you can. – It’s pretty obvious that I’m slowing down, and trying to run faster has only proven to make me sore and cause injuries. But since I started running ultra-distance events, slow running is the recipe for going far. Maybe running fast is in the rearview mirror, but I’m just now tapping into how far I can go. My max has been 76 miles, maybe I can exceed that. And since I have fallen in love with the Backyard Ultra/Last Runner Standing format, maybe seeing how many “yards” I can accomplish can be a new goal.
Embrace walking. – Walking saved my season last year when I struggled with my knee injury. I had already built walking into my running and was fine with using that pacing method training for ultras, but now I had an injury that made running hurt. Walking kept the mileage up, kept my other muscles working, and kept me moving forward without further damaging my knee. I was able to get back to running by the fall and participate in my final two ultras. The plan for this year will include a run/walk pacing plan for most longer runs, say 8 miles and above. I still get the work in, still get my heart rate going, and still get to be out there running.
Take care of the other things I have neglected. – I am not a limber man. I have gotten by in the past, but muscle tightness has a lot to do with why I’m sore and prone to injury. I’ve got to include some stretching and massaging to keep me fresh.
Cross-train more. – I admit that I miss triathlon. It was really a great cross-training sport. While triathlon training you have to make time for swimming and cycling, which means taking time away from running. I found this to be a good thing when I trained for Ironman. My running was actually at its best when I was doing triathlons. I’m going to add more cycling and swimming back into the mix, and maybe toss in a few sprint races too.
Stop being so negative. – Things are going to happen, and when they do I need to adjust and not get so down on myself. Winter is a motivation killer for me. I dislike being cold, and indoor workouts suck the life out of me. But the weather will get better, and doing less actually means that I am inadvertently allowing myself to have a recovery portion of the season, which is sorely needed. My wife rolls her eyes when I claim to be an optimist, as she knows that I am pessimistic to no end, but maybe a little optimism is what I need.
Reinventing myself as a runner may just be what I need. And maybe just making some small and smart changes could be the key to keeping running in my life.
I’d love to hear how other older runners have dealt with age-related performance decline. Drop a note in the comments.
Walking saved my season. Old me would have thrown in the towel if I had to resort to walking, but as I became a more experienced and seasoned ultra-distance runner, I found walking to be not only necessary but enjoyable. This year though, without walking I might not have accomplished much.
In May I developed knee pain that would later turn out to be patellofemoral pain syndrome, also known as “runner’s knee.” This knee injury was a bear and the most difficult of running-related injuries I have ever had to get over. It took rest and some physical therapy to get a handle on it. But what salvaged my season was walking. Walking wasn’t making my knee hurt, and when the plan called for miles of running I substituted walking. Most walks were in the 4, 5, and 6-mile range, but I eventually reached 10 miles and more. Time on my feet was important, whether I walked or ran.
May, June, and July took the biggest hits as far as running goes, but I was back to getting my training runs in by August. A little knee brace I bought on Amazon was a gizmo that I thought was a waste of money, but whether it was a physical positive or a mental one, it seemed to help me run without hurting my knee. I used it up through September and during the Broken Anvil Backyard Ultra, until I decided to take it off in the late portion of the race. I stopped wearing it altogether after that.
By November and Tunnel Hill 100, I felt pretty good. I amazed myself by getting through 76 miles of that run, knowing full well that walking was the reason I got that far.
So when I look at the total running mileage of 1214 for this year, I’m pretty surprised that I amassed that much. Add in the 522 walking miles and it adds up (1736 miles!) to be a pretty good year!
2023 RACES
The racing season was held to just four events, which were eventful for sure.
First up was the Paleozoic Trail Runs – Devonian Spring II 25K, a local trail race that I’ve done twice and really enjoyed. The 2022 race was a complete mud-fest, but 2023 would be bone-chilling cold. I felt pretty good condition-wise for this race, but it really did paint a picture of what was to come for me. Once the race started I felt sluggish and didn’t have any speed. I tripped over a hidden tree root on the trail about halfway through and landed on my face. I pushed on but finished missing out on the podium. Race recap:Paleozoic Trail Runs – Devonian Spring II – 25K Race Report
I think I immediately stopped bleeding when the blood flash-froze on my face.
Next up was a return to the WausaUltra Backyard Ultra in Wausau, Wisconsin. I really enjoy the backyard/last runner standing format and WausaUltra really puts on a good event. The weather was a little better this year and not as warm, but seeing how I tripped and fell at this highly technical trail course in 2022, I managed six 4.16-mile loops before I pulled the plug on it before I tripped on something significant – i.e. a jagged rock. Of the backyarders I have done, this one is the most technical and toughest. Race recap:2023 WausaUltra Backyard Ultra Race Report
Totally beat after one loop. It’s a tough course.
After suffering through the knee pain earlier in the year and learning to train around it through walking, I was elated to even be able to show up for the BROKEN ANVIL BACKYARD ULTRA, in West Point, Iowa in September. Another second year in a row race for me, and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect or even if I would get more than a couple of loops run. Kari joined me for this race and ran a personal best farthest distance, before dropping out to help crew me. She’s the best crew/sherpa ever. I managed to get through 9 yards and 37.5 miles before deciding that I had had enough. I was tired, starting to chafe, and did not want to overdo it and jeopardize the looming third attempt at Tunnel Hill 100. I could have run up to 50 miles, but I was being cautious. I was also starting to have a Forrest Gump moment, that point when I was kind of sick of running. Race recap: 2023 Broken Anvil Backyard Ultra Race Report
Kari and I wrapping up her last yard together.
I ended the year in Vienna, IL to attempt running the Tunnel Hill 100 for the third time. Honestly, I couldn’t believe that I had gotten enough training done to even show up prepared to run. The first 50 miles went pretty well, and I looked forward to pressing on for the second half. Kari and Ben had joined me to crew and pace for me. Kari joined me for the trip from Heron Pond to the turn-around, and back toward Vienna, slogging through 21 miles with me – a new personal best distance for her. But as we pressed on, it was clear that I was starting to struggle, with cramps popping up here and there in my feet and calf muscles, as well as being just generally worn out. For the second year in a row, I happily pulled the plug at 76 miles in Vienna, with no regrets at all. I’m not sure a 100-mile finish is in the cards for me, but I won’t say I’m done trying. I just need the perfect training season, and 2023 was not it. Race recap: 2023 Tunnel Hill Race Report
Some day I hope to finish the race with this pose.
2024 GOALS
I’m not really sure about what to plan for 2024. I decided after Tunnel Hill to put ultras on the shelf for a while and focus instead on rebuilding some speed and getting back to triathlon. But I did something dumb and signed up for the Chicago Marathon, something I claimed that I would never do again. And trying to reclaim some of the speed I have lost doing nothing but long, slow distance running is not going so well. I may have to come to grips that I am an old guy and those days of running fast are fading behind me. That’s okay, I’m really enjoying setting new distance records, running backyard races, and experiencing new types of events. One on my radar is a trail race in June in Valparaiso, IN called Trail Golf Endurance Challenge. It’s a trail run, covering nine “holes” of distances of about 3.5 miles each. The faster you run, the lower your score. I may have a conflict that weekend, but if not, I will show up and give it a go. Here’s the link if you are interested: Trail Golf Endurance Challenge
So there you have it. A season that clearly had no business turning out the way it did, and I’m so glad that walking was an option to keep me moving forward. On to 2024!
RUNNING STATS
JANUARY – 15 Runs / 96.5 Miles / 24 Miles per week
FEBRUARY – 13 Runs / 83 Miles / 21 Miles per week
MARCH – 15 Runs / 136 Miles / 34 Miles per week
APRIL – 14 Runs / 145 Miles / 36 Miles per week
MAY – 14 Runs / 114 Miles / 28 Miles per week
JUNE – 4 Runs / 28 Miles / 7 Miles per week (Injury impacted)
JULY – 6 Runs / 42 Miles / 10 Miles per week (Injury impacted)
AUGUST – 12 Runs / 111 Miles / 28 Miles per week
SEPTEMBER – 11 Runs / 151 Miles / 37 Miles per week
OCTOBER – 13 Runs / 141 Miles / 35 Miles per week
NOVEMBER – 6 Runs / 101 Miles / 25 Miles per week
DECEMBER – 16 Runs / 88 Miles / 22 Miles per week
2023 TOTALS – 135 Runs / 1214 Miles / 23 Miles per week
LIFETIME RUNNING TOTAL
31903 Total Lifetime Miles / 5522 Total Lifetime Runs / 35th Year of Running
I shut myself down from running in mid-November, after attempting Tunnel Hill 100 for the third time, only running occasionally and only short-distance stuff. Doing nothing but running long and slow had been a blessing initially because speed was causing me some issues. But now, after three years, long and slow is wearing me down too.
I’ve spent some time this fall thinking about what I want to do next year. I like to find races and set goals, and I really miss riding my bikes and doing triathlons. I was pondering whether to keep running ultra-distance runs. I have really grown to like the challenge, and the backyard/last runner standing events are so enjoyable to do. I know one thing for certain – I’m done chasing the 100-mile finisher goal for a while. I’ve had three shots at it, and I’m not sure that distance is for me, an aging runner who should have attempted that distance earlier in life. I’m not saying I’m done, I just don’t want to put myself through that again right now. I already have the Chicago Marathon on my calendar, and I believe that is more than I should tackle.
I recently came across a new race format that I found very interesting. It’s an ultra-distance event (50K) that has an element of the backyard/last runner standing format to it but adds a speed challenge. It’s called the “Trail Golf Endurance Challenge” and is local to me, located in Valparaiso, Indiana. The format is runners will run nine “holes” starting on the hour. The distance of each hole is a little under 4 miles of technical trail terrain. If you can average an 8 min/mile or under for the hole, you get an “eagle,” worth two points. A sub-1o min/mile is a birdie-3, a sub-12 min/mile is a par-4, a sub-15 min/mile is a bogey-5 and anything over a 15 min/mile is a double bogey-6. So if you run an average of 10 min/miles for each of the nine holes, you will end up with a score of 27. The runner with the lowest score will be the winner. Sounds like a lot of fun to me.
But there are two things that stand in the way of me signing up for it. First, my daughter will be starting a new job and may have to move to another area on that weekend, which will require dad to assist. And secondly, I KEEP TRIPPING AND FALLING DOWN!
The crack, the shoe, and me wondering what the hell happened.
I really don’t understand how a simple trip to put the garbage bins to the curb and to grab the mail can be a tricky endeavor for me, but on this cold day I decided to pick up the pace a little to get back up the driveway and into the house and my foot got caught on the lowest of low trip hazards ever – the small little gap between sections of my concrete driveway. It’s barely 2mm high! My legs were doing a cartoon spin trying to catch myself, but I went down anyway. Fortunately I had time to get my hands under me to prevent a face plant, but my shoe went flying and so did the mail. Fortunately, my dog Murphy was the only witness to this craziness.
So, maybe I should stop thinking about trail running altogether because my past history has shown that a fall is certainly a high probability.
If you are less of a klutz and would like more info about the Trail Golf Endurance Challenge, here’s the link: Trail Golf
Not in last place, but definitely bringing up the rear in the first couple of miles into the day.
Tunnel Hill 100 ended with me running 76 total miles, ending with a drop to a 50-mile finish officially. If I could just get the race director to add a 75-mile belt buckle, I’d be all set.
Lots of beautiful scenery along the trail.
Seventy-six is plenty of miles for me. I’m starting to believe that it’s my max running distance since I have now done it twice. What stings a little is that I was hoping that I could run one hundred miles. Silly me.
Coming into Vienna and finishing up the first 26 miles. Time for lunch!
This was my third attempt at running one hundred miles at Tunnel Hill, and the third time I settled for less than that. People who have run the race will make an effort to tell you to not quit, knowing that Tunnel Hill makes it easy to do so – the start/finish for the 50-mile race is the same as the 100-mile race, your car/family/crew are all right there, and the race director will also let you accept the 50-mile finisher time and buckle even if you “DNF” the 100. But that is not why I quit this time or even the last time. It’s just a very, very difficult thing for me to accomplish.
Funny story about this photo. The guy in the red hat is none other than Laz himself, who happened to be walking with another runner when I took the opportunity to grab a selfie. I think they both thought that I was taking a picture of the smiling lady, who unbeknownst to me had just set the course record in the 50-mile race. She had a good chuckle when she realized that I actually wanted a picture with Laz. I’m surprised Laz didn’t whack me with his walking stick.
I could go into a whole list of reasons for why I quit, but they are just excuses and excuses won’t change 76 into 100. I think that the truth is that maybe, just maybe I’m not capable of it, just like someone with a baritone voice not being able to sing soprano, or maybe in a sense that my level of ability in playing the drums would ever make me a rock star.
The namesake tunnel.
But that’s not to say that running 76 miles should be considered a failure. It’s actually pretty damn far! I wouldn’t want to drive that far in a car! It is interesting to see some of the comments to my post on Facebook from my friends. Of course, my non-runner friends are in awe of doing something like that. They feel that way because they aren’t even comfortable running one mile, let alone 76 of them. My ultra-running friend Jodi, who has numerous 100-mile finishes, was the opposite of that thinking and I think that she believed that all I needed to do was just keep going. Like it is just that easy. Maybe easy for her, but not so easy for me. She has an amazing skillset for this distance that I’m not sure that I will ever have. Another friend Leah, a TH100 finisher herself, made a very interesting point that I didn’t actually quit, in fact, I came back for a third time knowing all too well how hard attempting this dumb quest is.
The northern turnaround. A desolate, lonely place.
Another friend, Tony, came to TH100 to attempt to run it for the first time. He found out that running 100 miles is a tough thing to do, also dropping at 76 just like I did. I think he is motivated to give it another go next year. I hope he does because one attempt at this is just not enough to know what it really takes for some people. He’s just starting his journey to his Rubicon. I think that I have found mine.
Best wife and son ever!
Of course, I couldn’t have done the 160,000 steps of this run without the support of my wife Kari, and son Ben, who were there to crew me and run with me. Ben didn’t get the chance to run the last 24 obviously, but Kari joined me for the last 21 miles coming back into Vienna. That is a personal record distance for her and should not go without notice. They were outstanding at crewing me, getting me exactly what I needed, and keeping me moving forward until it was clear that moving forward was no longer possible. I’m blessed to have them both in my life. With all my love, thank you.
I’ve been running for a long time and occasionally the topic of running will come up in conversation with non-running friends. I love those conversations because I love talking about running. But there will be a point where I can almost predict what they will say next. And then I chuckle at it, not because I’m laughing with them, but rather at them. Because it’s something I’ve heard numerous times before. Here are the most common things I’ve heard over the years.
“WHEN IS YOUR MARATHON?” Somehow it became the norm for non-runners to think that any running race is called a marathon. If my friends remember that I have a race on the weekend, they will wish me luck with my marathon, even if I’m just running the local 5K. The term “5K Marathon” has become a joke with us runners, as if the two distances will be forever linked.
“SOMEONE WOULD HAVE TO BE CHASING ME TO GET ME TO RUN THAT FAR.” Or, “I’d probably be on fire if I’m running!” are common statements. I guess I would also be running if someone was chasing me or if I was on fire too. That’s actually pretty sound advice.
“WHAT ARE YOU RUNNING FROM?” I heard this twice at a backyard ultra I did a couple of years ago from a kid who was camping nearby and not aware of what was going on. It was puzzling to me. The guy I was running with brushed it off as a kid just trying to be funny, but I spent the next two loops thinking about what I was running from. I eventually turned it around and decided I wasn’t running from anything, I was running to something – a greater personal good.
“EVER GET RUNNER’S HIGH?” Sometimes I think they ask this to determine if running is something they would endure to get high. I guess that exercise can release endorphins that make you feel good, but in all honesty, I’ve never really felt “high” from running. So, no I have never had runner’s high. Sorry to disappoint you.
“DON’T YOUR KNEES HURT?” My neighbor says this to me every time I come back from a run. Recently I had to confess that yes, they actually do hurt as I have been doing a lot of long-slow distance running pursuing ultra-distance runs. But in general, running is beneficial to your joint health, as long as you don’t overdo it. And for me to have very few issues of knee or other joint pain over 30+ years of running is pretty strong evidence that I’m doing my body good.
“HOW CAN YOU RUN THAT FAST?” This one I actually find a little bit insulting, especially when it is specifically directed at me! Listen, I realize I’m lacking the slim figure of most high-level runners, but I worked my butt off to run as fast as I do. One year I was issued a “B” corral bib number for the Chicago Marathon, which puts me near the front of Wave 1 of the race. As I got into the elevator to head to the start corral, another runner took one look at the bib and then looked at me and said “Wow! You’re in the B corral?!” like I somehow didn’t belong. There are certainly lots of runners gifted with speed, but almost all of us who run fast (which is relative) have something in common – we worked at it.
The old man and his B corral bib.
“YOU KNOW THAT YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THAT.” A coworker laid this gem on me once, after I was complaining about having to do a 6-hour bike ride and a 3-hour run on the weekend for the Ironman I was training for. She’s right, I don’t have to do it, and sometimes I don’t like to do it, but I achieved some personal greatness because of it. Don’t we all complain about the things we don’t have to do, but do anyway? My friend Jodi is running a 50-miler today – in the cold and rain. She doesn’t have to do that. But she will, and she will have a pretty special memory from it when she crosses the finish tonight.
“I COULD NEVER DO THAT.” When I say that I’ve finished numerous marathons and Ironmans, I can pretty much expect them to say that they could never do that. My response to that is that there is a difference between could and would. What you are really saying is that you would never do that. You definitely could do it if you tried. You just don’t want to do it, which I totally get.
“I JUST DON’T LIKE RUNNING.” A friend uttered this to me this week. He is attempting to get into a training class for law enforcement that requires that they pass a physical fitness test first. The running requirement is one 10-minute mile. I’ve been trying to help him with it and told him he just needs to run more. That’s when the “I just don’t like running” statement was made. I get that, I didn’t like it at first either. But somehow I tolerated a jog around the neighborhood and then turned that into running a couple of miles and then much more. I have always said that the first step of any run for me is the hardest, after that you just keep going and pat yourself on the back when you are done. You just need to take that first step. It will lead to many more.
And finally, the most common thing that I hear non-runners say…
“I DON’T EVEN LIKE TO DRIVE THAT FAR!” Neither do I.
THE DETAILS – Broken Anvil Backyard Ultra is a last runner standing format running event. 4.16 miles every hour starting at 7 a.m. and running until there is only one runner left to complete the loop. Make it back before the hour is up, or you are out. Not in the corral for the next lap, you are out. Decide to drop on your own and not start, that’s right – you are out. Most use this type of race to see how far they can go, often running their first ultra-distance run. The event was held in West Point, Iowa in the local park, with a mix of grass, gravel, paved road/path, and wooded trail. Lots of variety without being too technical. Lots of shade as well. This is a well-run event and a great place to experience this type of running. But in the words of Lazarus Lake: “It’s easy – until it’s not.”
~~~
Hey! You’re the guy… who wrote the race report I read. I heard that several times pre-race, at packet pick-up, at the hotel we stayed at, and on the morning of the race as we were all waiting for the 7 a.m. start time. Several of them mentioned that they were inspired to do the race because of it. Some even said they tried my 2-minute run / 2-minute walk pace plan and would utilize it during the race. I was beaming pretty good from hearing all the praise. I write my blog and these race reports so I have the memory for myself and my family, but when someone mentions that they got something out of it, I couldn’t be happier.
Kari and I sitting in our tent waiting for the start. (Mile90 photo)
Get on the bus, and head to the back… was the plan, and several joined me in that strategy. I told myself to be patient on the first yard and was glad that I executed that. No sense in going out strong on the first yard (4.16-mile loop) – which is a common mistake to make when race day adrenaline and feeling good early make you want to blast off. But this race format isn’t about how fast you can go, it’s about how far you can go. The bus should have had more, but the younger and more serious runners preferred to be ahead for some reason. I stayed in the back for all 9 of my completed yards.
Kari feeling good on the second yard. (Mile90 photo)
The sweeper… in runner parlance is someone bringing up the rear, and usually, someone who is keeping the bare minimum pace to make a cutoff. I was becoming the sweeper in this field. I was completing my yard in about 52 minutes, leaving just about 8 minutes to refill my empty handheld water bottle, take a cold wet towel and wipe myself down with it, and refuel with some food for the next yard. If I was ahead of anyone, I often wondered how close they would be to making it back in an hour. I think the others also knew that if I was overtaking them in the later stages of the yard, they might want to pick up their pace to make the hour cutoff.
I hear that you’re the guy… to beat, said another runner, which gave me a pretty good chuckle. It was early, and I was feeling good, but there was no way I was going to outlast most of this talented field. It brightened my mood, though.
Staying hydrated… was becoming difficult for some reason. Well, the reason was that the day was sneaky warm. It didn’t really feel hot, as there was a good breeze most of the day, and the clear skies would be replaced by general overcast conditions. But by the third loop or so, the heat was making itself known. Lots of clothes changes going on, as sweat-soaked singlets and hats were replaced with fresh ones. Plenty of shirtless runners ahead of me, as we made our way around the course. Dad bods were on full display.
Heavy sweating forced a clothing change.
The check engine light… came on around yard six or seven. I was drinking a full twelve ounces of water every yard, but I was draining it dry by the 45-minute mark. I was peeing nearly every time I came out of the trail at the port-o-let there, but the need to go stopped. I was still sweating somewhat, so that was a good sign, but I could tell I was getting dehydrated. Even with downing a Gatorade at my camp between yards, it wasn’t enough.
“You Got This”… shouted a kid, as he rode his bike past me in the closing half-mile of yard nine. “I got this? I don’t even want it!” was my response. The kid seemed a little confused. As I was running what would be my last yard, I had a Forrest Gump moment. I didn’t really want to run anymore. Not just running the event, but in general. I had already passed the 50K mark and I wasn’t sure that my dehydration issue was going to get better. I felt pretty good still, but I didn’t want to end in a crash and burn. It was then that I decided to call it a day. I just wanted to be done. 9 yards and 37.5 miles was a pretty good running day.
Kari and I finishing her last yard together. (Mile90 photo)
My wife Kari is… pretty awesome. Not only did she crew me once again, helping to set up the tent and make sure I had all of my junk, she also participated in her first backyarder, setting a personal distance record of 4 yards and 16.67 miles! Farthest she ever run in her life! And I think she might have enjoyed it, too.
Congrats to all… the others that I met. Many set personal bests as well. There was one guy named Drew, who had to be the most popular guy in the race. He had quite a cheer crew. I was watching him in the latter stages and he had slowed quite a bit, walking with his hands on his hips often. But he lasted a yard or two more than I did. The race director congratulated him and said that he had never run longer than seven miles before. Pretty impressive leap from seven to over 40. Congrats to Ben, Todd, Nathan, Brian, Allie, Clayton, and anyone that I met along the way. You all did fantastic.
Hey! I was on the radio! It was my first time and I had a great experience. I know you are probably wondering why this dummy was on the radio, and I am right there with you. But sometimes an opportunity to do something new and exciting plops onto your lap and you say “Why not?”.
I’m on the air!
Brian Swift is an acquaintance who has a radio program on a local AM radio station called “All Things Inspirational Show” on Wednesdays at noon. Brian is a quadriplegic but has not let that slow him down at all. Brian has some use of his arms, and can often be found woodworking, pumping iron, and generally keeping busy around his home. Brian is an inspirational guy himself, working as a success coach and public speaker, has written books, and runs a nonprofit organization called SOAR, which provides accessible outdoor recreational opportunities for people with disabilities. Brian finds inspiration from others and feeds off of it. And being Facebook friends, Brian thought that I might be a great guest to have on his show.
Brian was impressed with my running and triathlon adventures and asked me to come on his show to discuss how I use determination and grit to accomplish my endurance goals. My first thought was that there had to be a lot more local athletes more interesting than me, but Brian knows me, and that was enough for him to ask me to join him this week.
We talked about what it takes to go from being a beginner runner to running marathons and beyond. We chatted about how special it feels to accomplish goals, such as finishing a special race or becoming an Ironman, and how that changed my life. We also chatted about the challenges that an older athlete (I’m almost 60 – *gasp*) faces and how I approach those issues.
I was amazed at how fast the hour went, as his questions were very thought-provoking, and I tended to ramble on until I forgot what the question was. Anyway, my first time as a guest on a radio program was a total blast, I’m glad I didn’t swear, and another special experience in this life of mine. Another chapter in “an amazing run” for sure.
Thanks for the opportunity, Brian!
For more info on Brian and his work, please see the below links.
an amazing run 