We all suffer. Keep Going

Sunday 1st July 2012 was my first stab at iron distance triathlon (2.4 mile swim / 112 mile bike / 26.2 mile run); IronMan Austria. There should be a post dedicated to the 6+month build up to 1st July, but there were two key defining moments which gave my IronMan training character to say the least:

1. My broken toe from the TRR in Aug 2011, which untreated, lead to chronic knee issues as I continued to train on it and subsequently changed my running gait. 
2. Less than 8 weeks from the big dance, coming off my TT bike at speed down hill into a turn, cracking my frames seat stays and trashing my sectional clinchers I planned on using in IM. (Fortunately, I was barely scratched)

Seeing as this was my maiden IM voyage I tried not to have any expectations, but there is no doubt that sub-10 was roaming around in my head. It was a tough day FO SHO, but it was always going to be so you might as well throw in the banned wetsuits, punctures and high temps to get the full experience.

It's Official

Coming into the Big Dance I felt well prepared despite the two items above. My readiness was 100% down to the program that I followed with KJC. We were relentless with our dedication to training and commitment to the plan her coach Harry's masterfully set out. Looking back now having finished IM, I truly feel that some of our brick sessions in the weeks leading up to IM were tougher physically and mentally than the IM itself, just as KJC continued to insist. And with those hard workouts in the bag, mentally I had confidence at the distance.

The day before the race, when news broke at the briefing about the banned wetsuits, there is no denying it was a let down, but no sooner was I over it.  A non-wetsuit swim was not insurmountable as we had swim 4x3.8K TTs in the pool in training so there was no doubt I was able to do the distance in jammers alone. I just had to accept that it would take me longer and I was in the fortunate position to not be racing against a previous PB since this was my first IM.

Pre-race:
We arrived in Austria on Thursday before the race; enough time to get settled in, register, hit the expo, do a few light workouts, etc but not so much time that our nervousness red-lined. It was pretty hot, but there's no difference in acclimatizing whether arriving four or two days prior. However, sleeping in this heat at night was pretty unsettled, so it was actually better to be getting full sleep at the beginning of the week at home.

Experts!?!

On race day, we were up at 4:45 for breakfast at 5:00. Then the plan of attack was get to transition by 5:30, put my run nutrition in my run bag, put shoes on bike, add bottles, put my nutrition on my bike and out of transition, walking the 10-15min to the swim start. Unfortunately I had to resort to the Plan B I didn't have when I started putting my shoes on the bike and realized that my front wheel was flat. F! All the sudden things when from calm and collected to chaos. Off with my front wheel and over to the mechs in transition where they changed the tube. I was thinking that it might have been a valve extender issue as I cycled the bike 45min on Fri with the new tires and tubes without issue and then merely topped off the air on Sat before dropping the bike to transition. Fortunately the guys were able to attend to it pretty quickly. They sort of struggled to put the tire on as they had on Friday. When the guy was doing it, I noticed that the rim tape was a little off centered, but I didn't think too much of it; I just wanted my wheel back stat. With my wheel back on the bike, I sorted out the rest of my transition and rushed out of transition to catch KJC and headed to the swim start. We got there with about 10 min to spare. Things were back in order; crisis averted (for the time being).

With Arms:

The inspirational Chrissie Wellington

The water temperature in the lake on Saturday was apparently 24.8C, 0.3C over the wetsuit cutoff so this was the first non-wetsuit swim in the 15 year history of the race. There were rumors that WTC was getting a bit more strict on races enforcing the rules as other recounted that surely Worthersee was above 24.5 in years past. I decided to go with jammers and no top. I would put my RocketScienceSports tri shorts and top on in T1. We (KJC & I) started on the left beach instead of the right as normally it is a direct shot to the first buoy, but when we got there and looked out, the 1st buoy appeared to be to the right making the right beach a direct shot instead! The garmin would later confirm that they altered the usual location of the buoys. It was clocked at 4.2K instead of 3.8K! But at this point it was too late to switch beaches. My swim goal was to use the swim as a warm up; I wanted to exit the swim without having dug too deep and fresh for the bike. I found the swim busy, but I was not getting bashed like all accounts of IM are. I actually had a lot more open water than I expected: maybe that's a bad thing? There were times that I felt like peeps were pushing my legs down or even pushing me, but in general I didn't get too battered. Turning the first buoy we were supposed to then be heading straight across to the next, but after starting straight, I noticed that the 2nd buoy was actually up the lake further (more indication of a long swim) so I had to redirect to the right a bit. Still not too much battering, but it was pretty amazing how busy it was. After turning the 2nd buoy, it was back towards the canal, sighting into the sun. At this point I certainly felt my hips/legs dropping. The fact that peeps kept hitting my legs didn't help. Finally I made it to the infamous canal where I was hoping to be magically pulled through as most accounts describe.  In the canal it certainly was a bit easier so I switched to bilateral breathing, trying to glide more. After about 1K in the canal, I exited and felt fine; job done. I ran up the mat passing several others who all seemed to be a bit dazed and confused. I was not sure if I did well or not time wise, but I was feeling good. Up next was the bike, which I was truly stressing (due to possible mechanicals).

With Legs:
I was through T1, onto the bike and off with no issues. My goal here was to take it easy for most of the first lap (90K). Along the lake (Worthersee) I resisted the urge to race as others flew past me. There were several peeps I knew, whom flew past like I was standing still only for me to catch them less than an hour later and steadily move past them. Through the first 70k on the bike I was dancing on the pedals. I was eating every 30min and refreshing bottles at aid stations. All was to plan. I was up and down the laps  two main climbs with little perceived effort, my HR was around 140, my power was just under 200 even though I wanted to be around 210; I was on pace for just over a 5hr bike, life was good. Just after 70K my race changed.

All Good

Unfortunately what I feared most coming into this day came to be, a mechanical. This was the second of what would eventually be 5 flats on my front wheel. It was a relatively slow leak so I rolled for a bit (almost in hopes that I was imagining it or that it would go away) before finally accepting reality and pulling over. Luckily I did not flat on a decent considering I touched 45mph on several occasions. I managed to stay pretty calm as I reasoned I would get this fixed and be on my way, maybe only losing a 2-3 min. I put the new tube in and shot my only 16oz gas canister into the tube. During the process of changing my tube, a dozen+ local, Austrian supporters/spectators, one-by-one, migrated from their all-day post 100m up the road and surrounded me like I was food and they hadn't eaten in weeks. Between the heat, the urgency to get back rolling and the dozen or so peeps breathing down my neck, I was starting to get a bit flustered. At one point, one of the spectators tried to grab my wheel to help, but I insisted that they back off as I knew that outside assistance was grounds for DQ.

Things really went south when the gas I put in didn't hold. Now I was sh*t of out ideas. I left the tube in and I went back to my other tube, blowing air into it to see if it would hold and if it was the valve or in fact a puncture. At this point in the game I suspected that it was the valve and not the tube. In breathing air into and squeezing the original flatted tube it seemed to hold, so maybe the guys in transition didn't put the valve extender on tight enough? The problem now was that I was out of gas and had no pump. In the mean time, the locals kept on getting closer and closer to the point that I was pretty much fully surrounded. In frustration and in a raised voice I asked, "What is it you want?", as if they might understand my English. So out of gas and without a pump, I just stood there looking back down the road in hopes that, in TdF style, a Mavic Neutral Support Car would magically arrive. All the while masses of athletes continued to pass.

One of the spectators started talking to me in English, as if she was the spokesperson for the "tribe". She was asking me what I needed. I desperately said I need air in my tire but that any help would be outside assistance. She look at me as if totally surprised and said, "That all you need!?!", and then she motioned to one of the others and he got a pump for me. I reluctantly took it, fearing being DQed, but used it to put air in my tire. I was finally good to go and got back on the road, waving the masses a positive "danke schoen". All and all, this pit stop probably cost 40min and then a few K down the road I flatted again! Now I was totally F-ed. I had to tubes, no gas and no pump. Out of options I just started walking still with hopes that eventually a mech would drive by. After a mile or so I fortunately came across an aid station and a fixed-point mechanic. Five mins later, with a new tube, valve extension and having signed my second IOU of the day I was back on the go. At this point I thought I might still salvage something from this bike split. Having said that, there was a long way to go yet.

With Air!!

Naturally after my third flat, I was extremely tentative, especially on the decents; in a matter of less than 10K I went from dancing to distressed. I finally finished the first lap in a moving time of 2hr35 so even with the mile of walking I was make great moving time. As I started back out into my second lap I was rolling with a different crew of athletes. Actually, I was passing most as if they were going backwards. The second time through the climbs was not as effortless as the first. It was several hours later and definitively hotter (reports upwards of 41C) and with all the lost time there wasn't the same buzz or rush of adrenaline. Oddly enough I flatted again 90K later in the same spot as my third!! This was flat 4. Again I walked to the fixed mech, and again a new tube and valve, but this time the tube was free of charge....how generous at 10 euros a pop. For sure my bike split was toast now, but I thought at least I'll make it back to T2 and to the run so I can put this bike behind me.

No chance. A few K down the road it flatted for the 5th time. There were no more mechanics and I didn't think to walk back. I honestly smiled. It was clearly a joke at this point. Did my pre-race worries result in this reality? I started walking again while I contemplated my IM fate. A bike marshal passed soon after, stopped and asked in English if I was "kaput" as they made a slashing motion across their throat. I looked at my watch and stopped to think. It was 2pm. I did some quick numbers in my head; probably less than 20k left to go so 2hrs or less to walk back and then maybe a 4hr marathon; I'll be home by 8. So I said no to the marshal, I'll keep going. Several other bike marshals passed by and used the same word, "kaput"! Still I refused. I finally made it back to T2 after walking maybe 8 miles in my cycling shoes (the pavement was too hot for bare feet). I never really got to upset with the situation. Miraculously I was able to keep my cool mentally, physically I was burning up walking in the direct sun light. It was just so unlucky that all I could do is smile/laugh.

With Feet:
There was a great relief to finally have the bike parked and be out on the run. It is quite the opposite of what I would have expected considering my knee problems over the last 6 months. I would have expected to be dreading the run. Instead I was a bit lifted to finally be running.

Even with a perfect swim and bike, I really had no clue what state I would be in exiting T2.  I was merely planning to run from aid station to aid station, exactly how fast, I was not sure.  Coming into the day I thought that I might run around 8min miles and that a sub-3hr30 was feasible. But I was going to play it sans sheet music. Now considering the day I've had, reality was that a 4hr marathon would be a steal. I was now running for accomplishment. Thus I never really concerned myself with my pace or the time of day. I had my mind set on one thing: getting from aid station to aid station without walking. 

The run could be broken up into 4x10K O&Bs. The first heads out towards Krumpendorf along the lake. This would prove to be the hottest section as it has the least tree cover. The second 10K heads back towards town and was definitively cooler. On the first lap, headed out along the lake there were masses of spectators and the locals were out with their garden hoses dousing peeps like we were on fire. While at first this was a fantastic means to cool down the core, it also meant the sneaks becoming saturated with water. For me that meant pretty sore feet so I was doing my best to avoid the hoses or plead to the locals "nein danke" when they offered a dousing.

At every aid station I was taking on water and iso and before the second lap I started taking Pepsi. I was also trying to eat every 30-40min and taking saltstick every 30-40min alternating with eating. I was using sponges and taking ice cubes for the hands. On occasion I was rubbing ice cubes around my lips in lieu of taking on fluids. I think that the ice cubes were key to keeping cool. With ice I didn't need what hoses. Heading into town for the first time I came across KJC and P King running back from town. It was first time since the beginning of the bike that I had seen anyone I knew.

Coming back in from the lake for the last time was a relief, since for me that was the toughest section of the run course. I was starting to feel like the end was near, only O&B to town one more time. The legs generally felt ok, I wasn't going at blazing speed, but I was keeping to my plan to run aid station to aid station. It was amazing how many peeps were walking. I've never seen so much walking. Seeing peeps walk actually gave me inspiration to run; it was my only chance to salvage time. even though I was really only competing with myself, I may it a competition with others in order to keep the drive.

Just Brazil between me and the finish

For the last 3-4K I was on a mission. With the end being so near, suddenly the form starts to come back and I'm able to take it up a few gears. I guess the difference between being average and great is being able to stay in that state of mind and sustain the effort the whole race. For the last mile I was sub-8 and I was so focused on "finishing strong" that I did not really fully appreciate the atmosphere coming down the finishing stretch. I nearly pushed the guy in front of me over trying to finish. And like that it was 6+months of training had culminated.

The Take Home:
There were some hard lessons learned, specifically on the bike. I was on borrowed wheels, having trashed my sectional clinchers coming off the bike a few weeks back. I have sectional tubs, but I wanted to go with clinchers thinking that on the day changing a tube would be easier than a tub. Borrowed wheels was one thing, but I also then changed to new tires just two days before the race. Changing tires without a few spins/weeks on them was rookie stuff, but I thought it was a sure thing having the mechanics at the expo do this followed by a 45min test spin. On Tuesday, after the race, I took the tires off to see if I could figure it out. Sure enough the rim tape was well shifted off center and in one spot, matching up where my last pinch was, the rim tape was folded under creating a crease and exposing the rim. I recall the mech(s) having a tough time with the tires and I bet they shifted the tape then. I should have done it myself, but at a minimum I should have inspected the rim when I had the flat in transition and also when I had my first flat on the course. Being in the heat of battle, I wasn't thinking procedurally. I just wanted it fixed and fast. Lesson: Right First Time.

 "Beer?", "Always!"

Mechanicals aside, I think that I was well prepared for the race and I tackled the bike properly and was on pace to put down a good split, maybe 5hr5-5hr10. My nutrition was good, thus I was mentally in check for the most part. I suspect that had I been low on sugar, the Felt may not have made the plane trip back to Ireland! And I must take HTFU credit for getting back to T2 by hell or high water and putting in a decent run split. The run at 35C up was no doubt tough, but it was eased by persistent hydration and soley focusing on running from aid station to aid station, not worrying about pace or time of day. If I had a seamless bike and if a sub-10 been within reason, who knows, maybe I would have put priority on my run pace and ended up blowing up?

I do know it was an easy decision for me to continue my race and walk the bike back to T2; a DNF was not an option. I had come to Austria with one goal, to get across the line. Considering all that was invested, it was going to take a lot more than punctures for me to call it a day. I'm well pleased that I did continue; had I DNFed it would have been too long until redemption.  In my mind my 12:21 was underachieving, but looking back, now two weeks later, it is wonderful how I still get a euphoric feeling about the 24hrs post finishing, even in the face of my battles on the bike. It is easy to see how first thing the morning after the race, the masses migrate (limping, etc) to register to do it all again in 365 days. This sense of accomplishment is something that can never be taken away. By no means did my maiden IM voyage it go to plan, but I doubt it often does at IM distance. 

The greatest battle is not physical but psychological. 

The demons telling us to give up when we push ourselves to the limit can never be silenced for good. 

They must always be answered by the quiet, steady dignity that simply refuses to give in. 

Courage. We all suffer. Keep going.

- Graeme Fife

Post-work Trail Run of the High Lonesome Loop

JP here.  I don't post much on this blog, saving it for rather special and unique events.  Let's say this one qualifies for that.  Grab a drink and put your feet up.

I don't have a lot of free time in my life, with which I'm perfectly fine.  I'm happy to cook each night and enjoy bath time with Colin.  I run hard on the weekends and spend time with my family.  But when Dana was out of town and Colin was spending the night at his cousin's house, I set my sights on an adventure of moderate proportions.  The plan was to get out of work promptly at 5:00 on Wednesday June 13th, head up to the Hessie trailhead outside of Eldora (outside of Nederland {outside of Boulder}) and complete the ~15 mile "High Lonesome Loop" a.k.a. the "Hessie Loop".

Conditions were perfect: we're one week before the Summer Solstice so I had until 9:00ish for daylight; Dana and Colin were taken care of; I was fit; I was looking for some variation in my running; the weather was good.  Below is a map of the route I would take, with the planned route as a dotted red line.  Leaving from Hessie, I would travel west to the intersection of King Lake / Devil's Thumb Trail, and head northwest on the Devil's Thumb Bypass trail.  I'd take that up to Jasper Lake, then Devil's Thumb Lake, then up Devil's Thumb Pass (elevation 12,014').  Once over the headwall and onto the other side of the Continental Divide, I would head south on the Continental Divide / High Lonesome Trail to the intersection at King Lake.  From there I'd drop down off the Divide and head east on the King Lake Trail, back to the original intersection, and back to my car.  It's roughly 16 miles with 3,800' of elevation gain.

Everything that day went pretty well.  I took a 17min nap in my car during lunch, got out at 4:30pm and was getting dressed by 5:30 at the trailhead.  I was really really unsure of how to dress and debated it the whole drive up.  Bringing a vest meant I could bring my good map and additional food, but it was 75deg at the trailhead (93 at work) and I knew I'd super overheat early on.  I landed on no vest.  Just trail shoes, socks, shorts, running hat, t-shirt, heart rate monitor strap, and Garmin 610 GPS watch.  2 gels, 2 8oz. clip-on (this is important later) flasks of pineapple Skratch Labs, an 8.5x11" paper map I printed at work and my phone / camera / flashlight device.

I ate on the way up so I was nice and topped off.  After watering the local flora, I did some leg swings and 1 set of a few PT exercises to wake up the muscles, and promptly got a bloody nose.  WTH?  To say it is dry here is an understatement (see: High Park fire), but it kind of rattled me.  I got it to stop, walked 50' up the incline to the edge of the parking lot, hit the start button and got running.  5:48pm.  All is well.  Below is the edge of the parking lot.

The first junction.  6:00pm.

The first mistake I made was getting on the Fastest Known Times website at work.  For those unfamiliar, it's a list of running records for trails and runs that aren't officially timed in an event.  I've never been a speed hiker and don't really believe in it.  I go to the mountains to enjoy nature, get away from it all, see new things, and challenge myself. This, however, was in fact a workout, just in a beautiful place.  But I worked the math on my drive up and still thought I could make a run at the FKT of 2:28:xx if things went well.  I was traveling light, legs felt fine, weather was good, I was motivated, and there was no reason to think it wasn't a possibility.  But there were a few problems.  1) I started my watch not actually at the trailhead, but about 5min before it when I left the parking lot, since the "true" trailhead is unaccessible to all but burly 4WD vehicles, so I had to keep that in mind.  2) I didn't actually know how long the loop was.  14?  15?  15.5?  All I knew for sure was the time, but failed to note the true distance, so I couldn't figure out what pace I needed to run.  And considering the first 7miles were 99% uphill, sometimes with my hands on my knees pushing up the Pass, trying to figure out how far off I was from an unknown pace was very frustrating.  It took away from the experience a bit, being caught up in uncertain numbers, but I was flying and thought I shouldn't forget about it until I had reason to.  I'd hate to have messed around only to miss it by 2 minutes or something.

So I was humping it out of the gate - 10 and 11 minute miles up stairs, over snowfields, across rivers, around downed trees.  The latter were the most annoying.  You definitely had to walk / bushwhack to get around em, and on the way up there were probably 8.  Looks like a wind storm of hurricane proportions blew through there recently and laid to waste a ton of trees.  I was conscious of the trail forking and made all the correct turns, never checking my map and made it to the gorgeous Jasper Lake in exactly an hour.

Entering the Wilderness area. 

Viewing the terrain ahead.  I would eventually be beyond and behind those mountains.

The approach to Jasper Lake was almost as gorgeous as the lake itself.

Stunning Jasper Lake, complete with islands.



I made a mental note to return to this lake as it really was gorgeous.  Those are islands out there - really cool looking.  I kept going to find more snowfields that I had to traverse and the elevation started to tick up over 11k' (trailhead was 8,900') and I was feeling it.  My calves were smoked from basically being on my toes for 50 of the last 60 minutes.  My quads were also hurting from the work.  An hour had gone by, and I thought if I eat 1 gel at 1 hour and the 2nd gel at 2 hours, that leaves somewhere between 30 and 60 minutes until I'm back to the car.  So that's fine.  1 hour.  1 gel.  Tasted good.  Rationed my Skratch, alternating flask bottles to 1 sip / mile, which was leaving me pretty thirsty.  I didn't have a lot of options though, so rationing would have to suffice.

I was feeling pretty discouraged as my times were slowing because of snow, trees, fatigue, and altitude, but when I hit Devil's Thumb Lake, I felt better.  There was an old man in a field about 100' off the trail.  Winter hat, coat, pants.  He was dressed appropriately - I was legitimately chilly, though sweating, as I entered the shadow the Divide itself, where the sun didn't shine, and the snow was all around me.  I verified with him it was Devil's Thumb Lake and he looked at me like I was a sheer lunatic.  It couldn't've been 50deg out and there I was, 7:15pm, on my way up the Pass, in shorts and a t-shirt, my water bottles concealed by my shirt.

Devil's Thumb Lake - I never got a real good look at it.  Such is life when you're in a hurry.

Looking up at Devil's Thumb Pass - the trail is there, though barely visible.

Just a little farther now.



This was about 6miles in and I realized on a 15mile hike, I'm rapidly approaching the point of no return.  That is, if I needed to bail, I needed to bail now.  No sense in bailing at mile 7 with halfway so close, and at mile 8 I'm already closer to home.  The thought entered my mind many times ascending the Pass, which was quite steep.  Hands on knees, just trying to keep walking.  A quick glance at the Garmin states it was 18% for .55 miles, and I'm sure there were spikes in there that were steeper. No way to run.  Just walking the best I could.  This was mentally tough - going so slow, already nervous about time and weather, with wet socks and shoes.  And cold.  And windy.  And in the shade.  I could see the top and was thrilled.  I prepared myself for at least 1 false summit, and in the first time in hiking history, there weren't any.  So that was a nice relief.  Then came the hammer.  A snow shelf, a good 300' wide and between 30' and 6' thick laid in front of me.  Curse word.  My options were to traverse north (the opposite way I wanted to ultimately go) across loose talus to avoid it, all while the penalty for slipping, tripping or falling was high.  Or to follow 1 of 2 sets of tracks straight up it.  The first set followed the trail and was probably 12 vertical feet of snow.  Doesn't sound like much, but when you have bare hands and trail shoes (not to mention fried legs), it looked like a mile.  The 2nd set of tracks veered away from the trail, but the swath of snow was only 5' high.  Either turn around or go up that and finish, those were my only options.

If I could dig in with my toes, I'd go for it.  But if it was icy and hard, I'm out.  Thankfully it was very soft due to the high (for snow) temperatures.  I was able to kick out the entire toe box of my shoe.  I kicked a good foot hold, moved up, kicked another one, got back down and figured out my exact approach.  Penalty for failure was again very high.  I also blew in my hands and got them as warm as I could - ice axes would've been nice here.  And some crampons or microspikes.  With 2 footholds in, about half-way, I went for it.  I had to make an awkward move at the end and both of my calves cramped, making me pull hard into the snow with my hands and more or less lunge forward onto the talus above the snow shelf.  That scared me pretty good - not to mention hurt - but at least most of me was on rock and I was past it.  It took probably 4 minutes to move 10'.  So now I was super rattled.  My hands were numb, my calves killed, and there I was, 12,000' in the air, fully exposed to the wind, 7:26pm, with more than halfway to go.  How can I be so tired and be so far away?  Shit. This isn't going well.

Looking back over the snow shelf, with Devil's Thumb Lake and Jasper Lake in the shadows to the left.



The good news came in the form of the sun, which I felt like I hadn't had on me in some time.  It really did warm up, and once I dried off, the wind seemed more bearable.  It was a flat stretch of just over 2 miles to the next Pass above King Lake, so I tried my best to cover that ground as well as I could.  But life is different at 12k'.  Jogging 10 minute miles is exhausting.  So I half-walked / half-jogged and briefly debated running down the hill to Winter Park, which was clear as day, has an awesome bar called The Cheeky Monk, and looked so close. Once there I was screwed as I had no ID or money, only a phone, so other than convincing Steve or Brandon or Sean to come pick me up, it would do me no good.  At some point in here I realized I dropped a water bottle, probably while scaling the Pass or snow shelf.  So that really dampened my mood.  I checked the one I had - 3-4oz. were left, tops.  That's not much for 9 miles at 12k', when you were sweating hard for 2 hours already.  I couldn't go back, even if I did find it, it would cost me more energy than could be gained from whatever was left in that bottle, probably again about 4oz.

I also realized for the first time that I was completely exposed with no back-up plan.  I'd been caught in an outhouse in a lightning storm, I'd hiked up to 12k' at 10:00pm by myself in the dead of winter, and been utterly lost trying to find a hut.  But every time I had a backpack full of food and clothes which would keep me alive through the night.  This time I had nada.  Overnight lows were still in the 30s, and being dehydrated and calorie-deficient, I'm pretty sure an unwelcome fate awaited me if I bedded down on that hillside.  Must.  Keep.  Running.

On the High Lonesome Trail, connecting to King Lake Trail.

I finally saw Rollins Pass Road in the distance, and shortly after, my trail.  It was beautiful, snow-shelf-free, well-defined, and all downhill.  At 8:01pm I said goodbye to Winter Park (and the sunshine), and got my groove on.  I was starving, being out for 2:15 now and only having 1 gel thus far.  I wanted to eat the 2nd and final gel as early as 1:30 into the run, but realized that regardless of how hungry I was at that moment, I will be 2-3 times hungrier if this goes poorly, and I need to wait as long as I can to eat my last gel.  But I was overall feeling better, being on the downhill and knowing that familiar trails (everything I had done to this point was new territory for me) were awaiting me.  I looked over at King Lake, saw more ice, and contemplated filling up my bottle with water from the lake. Contamination was unlikely given how high it was, but I already felt like I would end up with a fever at the end of this run based on how it was going so far, so I decided to bail on taking a chance on giardia to boot.  I decided to really put my pedal down, but found that my feet hurt.  Sticks, stones, sand and water / snow had all found their way into my shoes, and that needed to be fixed.  So at 11,800' I took off my right shoe, emptied it out and put it back on.  Only I couldn't tie my shoes.  I couldn't focus my eyes, I couldn't use my fingers.  HAPE and HACE entered my thoughtstream and I realized I wasn't all there.  So after  f o u r  tries I was able to make a loose loop with my shoelaces.  The left shoe would have to remain on and full of debris for the foreseeable future.

King Lake, with my trail headed down and to the right.  Not much sun down there.

Again rattled, I decided 2:30 was long enough and ate my 2nd gel, hoping the calories would help my mental clarity.  It was all downhill and I was past halfway, so I really didn't foresee myself being out for more than another hour.  It was good, real good, and I savored it and sucked every last bit out of the packet.  A marmot greeted me on the trail and though I paused to make sure he was cool with me, I kept going.  More downed trees, more snow fields, more soggy trails, more tiny and not-so-tiny stream crossings.  I wanted to be doing 8 and 9 minute miles - I was doing 11s and 13s.  My fastest ended up being 9:40 at mile 13.  I needed to get down to 8,900' and I was still 2,000' shy of that.  It was a long way to go, definitely getting darker and colder, and I had to move. 

I got through the snow fields and aside from a dozen more downed trees, was moving reasonably well.  The calories were helping - really or perceived it didn't matter -, it was getting warmer as I went lower, and I was navigating pretty well.

And just as my spirits rose, they came to a screeching halt.  In the form of the biggest moose in the entire world, a good 20' away from me.  Big bull, broadside in the trail.  I obviously took no pictures, the thought of spooking it with a flash would be a nice footnote in the newspaper article.  "Handsome dead hiker found to have taken photo at 8:20pm, moments before suffering blunt trauma to the head."  Instead I scanned for trees I could climb.  I knew the rocks around me were useless, and I knew that bulls would charge, so I was extremely extremely scared.  I had about 4 miles to go and knew turning around was not an option.  I could've bushwhacked, but moose are much, much faster in the thick woods than me.  I thought treeing myself if he charged was the only option.  I spooked him when I turned the corner and he moved 5' down the trail, then changed his mind when he realized he outweighed me by a thousand pounds or so.  He turned back, looked at me, all the while I haven't moved, and we did one of those really long stares at each other.  I could feel the sun going down behind me and just wanted resolution.  He ambled a few steps off the trail, stopped and looked at me again.  My heart rate was 652.  He moved a little farther to where I couldn't see him behind some thick brush and trees.  I tip-toed a few steps towards him to see him again.  Something about fearing the unknown more than the known I guess.  He moved a few more steps away from the trail, snapping small trees and downed logs with each step, reminding me how strong he was.  Still 652.  Without taking my eyes off him and the 15' from his hind legs and the trail, I moved very slowly parallel to him and eventually a little bit past.  I wanted to sprint more than anything in the world, but didn't want to provoke him, so I kept my eyes on him as I past, watched him turn his head away from me and move deeper into the woods.  I took off like I was shot out of a cannon.  Cue fastest mile here.  I'm sure he's as fast as a horse and could catch me if he wanted to, but I was going to put some distance in between us as fast as freaking possible.

(Notes: bull moose can run 35mph and trot for long periods of time at 20mph.)

I had worried about food, hydration, navigation, feet condition, weather, and daylight to this point.  Now I had to worry about animals too.  Was a mountain lion hunting that moose?  Do mountain lions hunt as dusk / evening time?  Every dark spot, which there were many and increasing regularly, required extra scrutiny to determine what it was.  Every small bird, squirrel, or chipmunk in the woods spooked me when I spooked it into movement. 

My mental side had been tested heavily to this point - my resolve to keep running when I wanted to walk, my ability to rationalize the situation and not panic, calling upon memories of arduous adventures that I somehow survived.  And now I just needed to summon the will and the brain to set my mind right, focus on the task at hand, remember to pick my feet up and not trip, don't miss any signs or markers, and make some time.  NUOSU, mind.

I again was astounded at how slow I was running.  Miles I thought would register in the 8s and 9s were still in the 10s and 11s.  I didn't know what was happening, I felt like I was going fast, but that's trail running for you I guess.  I couldn't change the slow miles behind me, I could only try and go as fast as possible at all times.  FKT?  Forget that.

I didn't want to run by mile 14 or so.  I was tired.  My legs ached.  Every log hop or stream crossing induced calf cramps.  My feet hurt.  But I knew I had one thing I wouldn't have very very soon: light.  I could see and thus I could run, therefore I had to.  Every step I took walking was a step I'd be taking later in the pitch black.  Must.  Keep.  Running.

Junction of Devil's Thumb and King Lake trails.

I knew this junction well, having gone either way on it more than once each.  I had a good feeling of how far it was from my car, and it was just nice to see something familiar.  Having it in a field with no trees and some daylight (flash was on, though) was comforting as well.  Comfort, like dry socks, was much-needed at this point.

It was nice to see.  But it was also 8:54pm when I took that photo.  At least a mile to go, probably close to 2.

Must.  Keep.  Running.  I saw the turnoff for Lost Lake - yet another familiar sign that made me feel better.  And then just as I got some confidence and peace of mind back, one more good fright, just for good measure.  A family from North Carolina had set up camp trail side, and I heard them before I saw them, and that gave me a good startle.  Relieved, I stopped and bummed some water off them.  I was over 3 hours now and completely shelled.  They were totally confused as to what the hell I was doing.  I was too.  I sat on a rock for about 2 minutes and chatted before moving on.  I negotiated the very steep descent and moved down the old road bed that made the lower part of the trail.  One more pic at 9:00 on the dot at the junction I was at 3 hours prior.

The first, and last, junction.  No alpenglow down here.

Seemed like 3 days prior.  I moved past the 'real' trailhead, once fixated on the time at which I would pass it again - I now cared less. 

One more test just to keep me honest.  The road out is flooded, like, 200' of water of varying depths, maybe 4" and maybe 2', I'd never be able to tell what the next step would be.  So they graciously built a narrow trail in the thick thick woods next to it.  Only I couldn't find the trail.  I pulled out the flashlight on my phone and after 3 tries I found the wooden boards that allow safe passage over the very wet and marshy area.  I walked out using that light and scaled the final, tiny rise that leads to the parking lot.  I recalled the failed attempt to reach King Lake by Sean and I a few winters back on skis, and thought how familiar the pain in my legs was.  My car key was sitting on top of the back left tire, just where I had left it 3 hours and 36 minutes prior.

I stopped and gave thanks to God for giving me the capability to arrive back safely, and for encourgaging that moose to get out of my way.  Changed my socks and shoes, crushed 16oz. of Skratch without taking a breath, and set out down the road.

My heart rate average was 142 for 3:36.  That's a higher HRavg than all but the first stage of TransRockies Run.  Max was 168.  I wasn't messin' around out there.  Made some calls and texts to let peeps know I was alive and drove an hour+ home.  Food wasn't necessary as I ate plenty in the car, but a shower was.  And then my mind raced as I tried to go to sleep; I don't think I fell off much before midnight.  What a night.  I wanted an adventure and I got one. 

I'm not sure what I'd do differently, probably carry a light jacket and some more food and some iodine pills.  But mostly I don't think I'll try that neither solo nor post-work with the intention of finishing in the daylight again.  That was a big gamble and I think I settled for a draw.  I didn't get hurt and nobody had to disrupt their lives to come find me, but it wasn't all perfect either.  Although I didn't like doing it solo, in many ways I'm glad I was.  I think I was a bit fortunate to not get injured or sick, and if someone else had been with me and they got hurt or sick because of my planned route, well, I'd feel quite terrible I think.  Quite a memory, though, and good mental training for Missoula.  The marathon will test you mentally more than physically, which is just what this run / hike did.  It tested a lot of me, and I hope I'm stronger as a result of having experienced it.

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

Note: I had an unnecessary 7 months to mull over this post......here it finally is

Yikes did I learn a lot from this virgin experience. Never more appropriate is the phrase, "If I knew then what I know now.....". Below is a break down of what I felt was Good, what was Bad (but not terrible) and what was Ugly, ie, a disaster. In bullet form this is the take away, the lessons learned for next time or advice for willing virgins:

The Good: 

• The Craic was Mighty. So many different backgrounds, shapes & sizes, strategies; one goal. The peeps were for the most part extremely outgoing and easy going. Everyone was cheering each other on daily and was willing to help at the drop of a hat. I guess I would compare it a bit to triathlon WRT the support for other competitors, but maybe a little more humble people. It was specifically GREAT to meet the likes of Amy and Greg, Fern and Red respectively. Very sound peeps. From our brief stints hanging out, they are the epitome of people whom get the most out of life; to merely say they are inspirational would be underselling them.
• Cynthia from GORE. In need of motivation or excessive smiling and laughing, fear not cauz shortly after 7pm every night Cynthia’s on the mic. Clearly unrehearsed/unintentional humor, her time on the mic was better then some stand-up I’ve paid money for; it only got better as the week progressed. She did this nightly “King and Queen” presentation where people were nominated as the days King and Queen of TRR; each getting complimentary GORE-TEX jackets (WOW see below for how awesome the GORE sponsorship is). Before getting to the worthiness of the days King and Queen, she would entertain us with some motivating story, often relating it to us the “Masters of the Extreme”.  Then when it came to King and Queens or other giveaways she had this unintentional, hilarious way of interpreting/presenting the details. E.G., One team she called up was named “Lard going Hard”. Innocently (on the mic) she asked the first guy if he was Lard or if he was Hard.  I can relate Cynthia to that one wicked cool Mom of your friends in high school.  Her infectious presence was not only at night; everyday she was at the finish line, sometimes for hours, welcoming everyone with smiles, congrats and of course gu-brew and water.  Big Ups Cynthia, you represent GORE well. They are privileged to have you as their face for TRR! 
• GORE. Segueing nicely, GORE really steps up to sponsor this event. Between the nightly giveaways and podium prizes, the ever-present regeneration station (power, chairs, snacks, drink), the swag giveaways and who knows what else, they really help make this one of the “most looked after” events. I was a little skeptical things would be as good as I had read about in the past. But this topped my charts for races. Big Ups GORE. Keep it up. I will truly consider GORE products in the future when gearing up. 
• TRR Staff. Tons of them and more then helpful. Within limits, whatever you needed they were there to help; what was theirs was yours whether around camp or at the checkpoints. Particularly notable was the CP2 crew from FLA. Always lively, always ready to fill you with liquid and solids and never short on small cowboys! Across the board the staff at CPs were ideal. They were proactive in asking what you wanted (gu-brew, water, etc) and they were always ready to fill your camel, handie, or mouth. On a few occasions the CPs were slightly short on selection, but that was down to access, i.e., where it was tough to get vehicles to locations with supplies. That’s not me complaining. 
• Grub. The food was outstanding, especially considering the logistics of our nightly local. Similarly to Cynthia's stand-up, I've paid for worse. For all of the nights except two in Camp Hale, Gourmet Cowboy fed us.  TRR included buffet style breakfast and dinner. Breakfast was scrambled eggs, bacon, potatoes, cereal, oatmeal, fruit, bread, peanut butter (key), juice, coffee, and sometimes a selection of tea. There were probably other things but I was sticking to cereal and oatmeal so I didn’t pay too much attention to the hot food.  There was always plenty and the only issue, as with all buffets, is knowing when to stop. 
• 120 miles of TRAILS.  I've never run 120 miles of anything in one week, and quite possibly I've only touched that sum a few times in two consecutive weeks. However after 6 days and 120 trail miles, my legs were not even sore. Yes my toe was f-ed (see Ugly below), but my legs were fine. I have certainly been a lot worse after a 5K road race. If fact a few weeks after TRR, I did a half ironman and the 13 miles of road running had me crazy sore for more then a week after. It says a lot for trails. I am definitely sold on trails and I wouldn't hesitate to suggest this race to anyone and everyone. 
• Drawstring shoe bags. These are very handy for organizing stuff within the big duffel bag they give you. This bag is huge and and you can imagine since there is no rigid structure to a duffel bag things tend to end up all over the place. I had about 3 or 4 with me, but another 3-4 would have been good. Use them for dirty clothes, clean clothes, dirty shoes, nutrition, general stuff, etc. You can never have enough.
• Honey Stinger Nutrition. HS sponsored JP and I with $150 of product each for the race and it treated me very well. Sponsored or not I would have been using HS anyway as I use their products religiously. THANK YOU HS for keeping me out of the red; do you have any products for cramps! (See Ugly below)
• Swag. Just look a the pics. Granted race entry was a $1350 each, but considering the food in and out of race and the logistics required getting our gear and camp from A to B to C to D to E you could argue our entry fee was spent before we arrived. There was some fantastic swag. Leading up to the race, one couldn't help but think that due to the state of the economy, the swag would be below the acclaimed TRR standard. By no means the case.
• Pre-race. Duffel bag,  technical TRR T, shoe dryers, penguin wash, bottle of saltstick capsules, tech TRR hat, Inov8 towel, Nathan handie, gel and energy drink

Pre-race Swag

• In-race. GORE Windstopper gloves, two Inov8 buffs, GORE Windstopper scarf, Inov8 rubber bowl, Inov8 trail runners (won)

• Compression Tights. My 2XU compression tights were a daily/nightly feature. They felt like heaven on my legs but immediately post race and then overnight sleeping.
• Handie. On some days I tried using the camelbak, but by far the handie was the most effective for hydration. There were enough CPs out there that we did not have to worry about carrying liters of water. The handie was the easiest to run with too; the camelbak was hot and shifted around constantly. There were smart ways to carry the necessary gear items, so the pack was not essential.
• Ear Plugs and Eye Mask. Wickid essential for a good nights sleep. For whatever reason some of our fellow trail stridders were under the impression that the tent walls were actually 3 foot thick sound proof nylon. This was especially true of the 3-day-ers. So ear plugs were key. The eye mask came in handy for the ritual afternoon snooze or for stray flashlights in the middle of the night. In camp, our tents were packed tight; TRR crew set them up sharing stakes between tents. Who could blame them having to put up and take down over 150 tents/day. Nothing was personal; even flatulence was communal.
• Air Mattress. Yes it took a lot of space in the duffel (JPs), but it was definitely worth it. I'm not sure we would have got as good as sleep without it. The ground surface each night was unpredictable at best. As I said, the crew are laying 150+ tents per day among other tasks, so there's no time for clearing rocks or picking 150 perfect spots. Some times there were rocks and sometimes wickid hard, long grass; all negated by the air mattress. We brought our own. You can rent them off TRR. We were on a double, so at times it was like a water bed with each others shifting, but that's small potatoes compared to having to sleep on a rock.
• Two Types of Shoes. I took Salomon Speed Cross 2 (non-gortex) and Newtons Momentums and switched depending on the day. For the longer days where was to be decent footing/traction I used the Newtons as they were closer to a road shoe. On the shorter more technical days I used the Salomons. This plan worked like a dream. I had not issues on the technical sections and no blisters on the longer days.

The Bad: 

• Cycling Jerseys. Not completely Ugly, but not great either, was the cycling jersey idea. It worked from a storage and access standpoint, but if the jersey was too loose then it bounced due to the weight in your pockets. If it was too tight then it tended to ride up on the front. Also bad was that I did not train with the jerseys full with the standard daily TRR luggage. That may have ruled these out.  I took it for granted that if they work in cycling and in tri, they'd work here. Monkey.
  
• Shorts with one small pocket. Again not completely Ugly, but next time for an ultra I would get shorts that have larger or more pockets. The shorts I used only had one small key/iPod mini pocket, so I just about squeeze one gel in them. This was limiting. When I was using the camelbak it would have been easier to get gels from my pockets rather then having to take the pack off to get a gel. Alternatively the newer camelbaks have pockets on the front straps, but more pockets in the shorts would definitely be a plus, since I would skip the camelbak all together next time. 
• 9am start Stage 1. Stage 1 was in the "high desert" with little to no tree cover, so it was always going to be a hot stage. Therefore the earlier the better in my mind, but I can understand if there are logistics to sort out, e.g., people getting to the race start, getting everyone's duffels, etc. I'm sure I would have commented equally for it being too early had it been the other way around. Its a lose-lose unless you start somewhere else geographically. Bottom line is be prepared for the heat; suntan lotion, water, salt tabs, hat/visor, etc. 
• Bringing Food.  Plain and simple; it's not necessary. We thought we would need it for lunches but the reality is with the finish-line nutrition followed by a HS protein bar, your held until dinner, which every night, was a massively amazing spread. In future I'd leave everything home and only take a few bars of dark chocolate, some beef jerky and green tea, otherwise your just packing it and moving your stash around the duffel all week.

Finish-Line Refuel

Fire it up - Dinner Day 5

• Computer. Frankly, there is no need other then full size typing blog stuff.  The phone would suffice. It's not worth lugging the laptop.
• Medical Tent. The lines were huge in the mornings and most of the days the staff weren't very helpful in my opinion. There were a few (maybe only one) exception and JP can attest to that as he got good help from one guy specifically. Thankfully, I didn't spend much time there and thankfully I didn't break my toe earlier in the week. It may have been more useful if there was just someone handing out supplies as I did most of my own taping work. I got the impression that a few of the staff didn't appreciate the scale of the what us trail striders were attempting.  
• My Gas. WOW JP how did you cop with that! Where the compression tights were good for the legs they were bad for delayed release. 

The Ugly:

• Cramps. From the very first CP 1 on day one, I had upper abdomen cramps that I could not shake. It was a disaster. It limited my speed and probably drove JP insane when he was rearing to go. I couldn't really pin it. I have been in altitude (CO) plenty of times; I have skied here a few seasons, did 5 days on the 10th Mountain Division trails (with JP on similar trails to TRR) and raced the Wild West Rely (200miles/6 man team) and never had problems. Some peeps I asked advised that you can come to altitude 10 times and not problems, but on the 11th time it can kill you. Affects were unpredictable. When I first got in town a day before the race, I had pretty big headaches, so I proceeded to horse the water in to keep dehydration off. When the cramps set in, I didn't think that I was dehydrated and I tried relentlessly to take on tons of water and salt capsules. None of it worked. If I have 5 gears of running pace, I was stuck in 2nd. I'm not sure what I would do in the future. Maybe come to CO a little bit earlier to get acclimated? Try to get some altitude training in prior to the race? One thing that might have helped a bit was to stop wearing the compression shirts. This allowed my chest to expand a bit more. I'm wondering now if it has anything to do with hurting my rib a few years back. Maybe it never healed properly and the altitude resulted in harder breathing, thus pushing on the damaged rib. Who knows, but it certainly was frustrating. I have even experienced similar cramps back here in Ireland, training, only when swimming.  
• Kicking Stumps.  Plain and simple it su*ked and most definitely, indirectly has me sidelined here 7 months later . We were doing so well that day [day 5] but in the last 3-4miles, I kicked a stump, most likely breaking my toe (never got an x-ray) and JP tripped going down hill and threw his knee into a tree. We were in bad shape, but we were determined to get across the line ahead of the competition. So we HTFUed and got it done. We were both destroyed after but we crushed it that day, we'll always have Day 5!

The Gruffalo

• Being on the Same Page. Day 5 we nailed, but as for 1,2,3 and 6 - not so much. The thing I took for granted the most about the TRR challenge was the team element. I never suspected it would be so tough for both of us to feel good each day. In a multi-day endurance race there are bound to be good days and bad. The toughest thing was that JP and I never really trained or raced together so when he or I were in camp sh*t, we didn't know how best to handle each other. Do I tell him to man-up or do I shower him with constant encouragement? I would consider the two of us best of homies, but I had no clue what to say.  It's a tough position to be in when you could have 20+ miles ahead of you. Lesson learned, figure this out before and ideally, train with each other, especially some long distance when things can go wrong. 

Bonus:

The Trifecta: JP you were good, bad and ugly, especially ugly (your toes).

Toenails Optional

I could not have picked a better person (having never trained or raced with) to race with for 6 days over 120miles! You were a champ when I was struggling and even more a champ when you were struggling. You were in some serious pain and there is a good chance I could have been magnifying the pain with my constant jibber-jabber, but you got it done. I think there were times when each of us wanted to 'put the other out to pasture', but we kept our cool. No way this is possible with anyone else.

Thanks John Paul Robb.
Thanks for being a homie.
Thanks for convincing me to do TRR.
Thanks for always identifying the next challenge.
Here's to future Wickidness.

Go You
Go Me

Stage 6 Redux; JP's Comments on Trevor's Report

This post will be a rolling commentary on what Trevor wrote about Stage 6. I'll post what he wrote in italics and quotation marks, then follow up with my comments.

"Instead I had a different variety today" He's referring to the challenge he would have today, which was mostly exercising patience, minimizing frustration with me, and trying to motivate me. I know the feeling. I did 8 days of Outward Bound in 1999 and despite the constant reminders from Outward Bound to train hard for this endeavor, several gals in our group showed up woefully unprepared. Instead of long distances, big climbs, and hard days, I had to do what Trevor did today. It's not terribly fun. Guys like us aren't used to using these skill sets; we'd much prefer the ones that make us cross-eyed with exertion. Alas.

"But today JP was in so much pain that he told me he couldn't talk." Indeed, conversation on the steep (read: painful) downhills of stage 4 were great for me. Today, I needed to think. I had to figure out how to manage the pain, how to shift my gait to be faster, how to, basically, keep moving forward. I couldn't come to grips mentally with how awful this situation was. Had it been a hike I would've bailed on the road and called for a ride. Had it been a solo race I would've...I don't know. Quit? Laid on the ground for a while? Just walked at whatever pace I decided was comfortable? Had it been a training run, I never would've started. It was none of these things, though, and I had to figure out how to get it done. The answers were not apparent. In the end, it was simple. Gut it out, tough it out, finish it. It's not going to be fun, it's not going to be pretty, but you're out of options, so deal with it as best you can.

"We have never really raced/trained together, thus we have never experienced each other in Camp Shit while competing. So I didn't know how to react when things turned bad." These were the same questions I had in the early stages of the race; I wanted to call KJC and ask her what to do. I still don't know what I need to hear when I go bad. Historically it's been my stomach, which just takes time to clear. But this was altogether different. There wasn't much help anyone without a needle and some pain-killers could do for me I don't think.

"I do recall in Stage 1 JP telling me when I was in the red, that when he goes, he goes hard. It was all happening as he said." Cut to Trevor Mills, Mark Beaty, Andrew Kurzon, Joe Aubin, Matt Berrien, and David Bertino all nodding in agreement.

"I also continued to jog albeit at a very slow pace and sometime in place. I wanted to keep going. I'm not sure if this shuffling of feet behind him was motivating or annoying." It was highly encouraging. I remember thinking, "Geez, if he's still jogging, I must be walking really fast!" I told you my mind had seceded from the union.

"I had constant fears that an argument/blow out between us was imminent. These were uncharted waters for me and for JP and I." Haha, had I only known at the time, I would've calmed Trevor's fears. I had no energy to be pissed off. Though when his Garmin shit the bed (mine had quit at mile 4, perhaps its way of telling me to bag it up) with 1 mile to go up the climb, and beeped every 5 seconds, I wanted to rip it off and chuck it in a stream.

"I also insisted that he eat something. Unfortunately all we had was gels." You've never seen someone eat a 1oz gel in 5 slurps over 10 minutes before. I was in a - bad - way.