Saturday, April 30, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
2011 Mississippi 50 Report
Two words that best describe the 2011 Mississippi 50: Wet and Muddy.
Though I had awoken to the sound of rumbling thunder in my Laurel hotel room at 4 a.m., it was not raining two hours later at the start line. The ground was wet and muddy from Friday night rains, and we all knew rain was coming (100 percent chance), but it was nice to start the day dry.
I left the start line at 6 a.m. very easy, determined to save myself for later in the day enjoying the cool 60-degree temperature. The course was already wet from the day before, and everyone's feet were completely drenched before the one-mile mark. I was so happy just to be out there in the woods with nothing to do for an entire day but run, that I actually took some pleasure in feeling like a first grader playing in the mud. It was great!
I focused on running without effort and keeping my pace in the 9-10 minute range for most of the first 25 miles. I hustled through all the aid stations, never stopping for more time than it took to refill my handheld bottle and scoop a handful of M&M's. I didn't want to lose any cheap minutes.
The rain started off at around mile eight and continued the rest of the day. The course was so muddy that crossing creeks actually became good opportunities to wash my shoes off (and out). Though I had brought extra shoes and socks to change between loops, changing would have been futile. Within minutes the new shoes and socks would be just as muddy and just as wet, so I stuck with the Brooks Cascadia's the entire run. Running through deep water was about the only relief I ever had from the mud.
Though I had awoken to the sound of rumbling thunder in my Laurel hotel room at 4 a.m., it was not raining two hours later at the start line. The ground was wet and muddy from Friday night rains, and we all knew rain was coming (100 percent chance), but it was nice to start the day dry.
I left the start line at 6 a.m. very easy, determined to save myself for later in the day enjoying the cool 60-degree temperature. The course was already wet from the day before, and everyone's feet were completely drenched before the one-mile mark. I was so happy just to be out there in the woods with nothing to do for an entire day but run, that I actually took some pleasure in feeling like a first grader playing in the mud. It was great!
I focused on running without effort and keeping my pace in the 9-10 minute range for most of the first 25 miles. I hustled through all the aid stations, never stopping for more time than it took to refill my handheld bottle and scoop a handful of M&M's. I didn't want to lose any cheap minutes.
The rain started off at around mile eight and continued the rest of the day. The course was so muddy that crossing creeks actually became good opportunities to wash my shoes off (and out). Though I had brought extra shoes and socks to change between loops, changing would have been futile. Within minutes the new shoes and socks would be just as muddy and just as wet, so I stuck with the Brooks Cascadia's the entire run. Running through deep water was about the only relief I ever had from the mud.
My mantra as I slogged through the first two 12.5-mile loops was to be strong on the third 12.5 mile loop (miles 25 - 37.5). That was where I fell apart in 2010 and I was determined this year to be strong through the first 37.5 miles and let whatever happens after that happen. I told myself over and over again that my race was all about the third 12-mile loop. I think it worked. I made it through most of the third loop without much fatigue. I didn't start to bonk until about mile 32. But after 37 miles I was pleased with my time, finishing the first three loops a full 1:06 ahead of 2010.
By then the rain was coming down with more force and without relent. The entire trail was submerged in one giant puddle. That first six-mile loop was rough going. I lost my momentum quickly. I think I had focused so much on being strong through mile 37, that I let up mentally for the last 12 miles. I was doing math in my head of how slow I could run the last 12 miles and still finish under 10 hours. That kind of thinking does not lend itself to running very fast. And thus, I had a hard time sustaining a run pace. And as I ran/trudged/splashed/ran, the rain fell harder and harder. It seemed like an eternity to the 40-mile aid station. When I finally reached it, the friendly volunteer filled my bottle and said, "You're doing great! You know you're crazy, right?" I thanked him, nodded and kept going. I felt crazy.
And that's when it started to get a little dangerous out there.
At around mile 41 lightning hit the ground within a couple hundred yards of me. For a minute or two I actually ran faster - as if I can outrun lightning! It was then that I started to question my sanity and just how bad I wanted to finish. The thought of missing the birth of my son because I wanted a 50-mile buckle made me shudder. I pulled into the mile 44 aid station in the midst of more thunder and the hardest rain of the day, a torrential downpour. The race director asked me how it was looking out there. I told him the trail was wet, but that the water levels weren't dangerous. It was the lightning that I was worried about.
I determined to see a radar before deciding whether I would venture back out. Rain was one thing, but lightning something entirely different. I sat under the tent for a minute worrying about the ramifications of quitting versus dying. I'm pretty sure if left to my own devices I would have slogged back out for the last six, but I never had to make that decision. The severe weather resulted in the Forest Service's cancellation of the race at the 8:35 mark and the conclusion of my 44th mile. The feeling of incompletion stinks, but I do take some comfort in the fact that my splits had me on pace to meet my goal, which was was to finish within 10 hours. In those conditions, I'll take it.
By then the rain was coming down with more force and without relent. The entire trail was submerged in one giant puddle. That first six-mile loop was rough going. I lost my momentum quickly. I think I had focused so much on being strong through mile 37, that I let up mentally for the last 12 miles. I was doing math in my head of how slow I could run the last 12 miles and still finish under 10 hours. That kind of thinking does not lend itself to running very fast. And thus, I had a hard time sustaining a run pace. And as I ran/trudged/splashed/ran, the rain fell harder and harder. It seemed like an eternity to the 40-mile aid station. When I finally reached it, the friendly volunteer filled my bottle and said, "You're doing great! You know you're crazy, right?" I thanked him, nodded and kept going. I felt crazy.
And that's when it started to get a little dangerous out there.
At around mile 41 lightning hit the ground within a couple hundred yards of me. For a minute or two I actually ran faster - as if I can outrun lightning! It was then that I started to question my sanity and just how bad I wanted to finish. The thought of missing the birth of my son because I wanted a 50-mile buckle made me shudder. I pulled into the mile 44 aid station in the midst of more thunder and the hardest rain of the day, a torrential downpour. The race director asked me how it was looking out there. I told him the trail was wet, but that the water levels weren't dangerous. It was the lightning that I was worried about.
I determined to see a radar before deciding whether I would venture back out. Rain was one thing, but lightning something entirely different. I sat under the tent for a minute worrying about the ramifications of quitting versus dying. I'm pretty sure if left to my own devices I would have slogged back out for the last six, but I never had to make that decision. The severe weather resulted in the Forest Service's cancellation of the race at the 8:35 mark and the conclusion of my 44th mile. The feeling of incompletion stinks, but I do take some comfort in the fact that my splits had me on pace to meet my goal, which was was to finish within 10 hours. In those conditions, I'll take it.
The splits on the MS50 web site are incorrect in that they didn't give me credit for finishing my third 12-mile loop, but in that kind of weather, I'll cut the volunteers some slack. That was a rough day! Here are my actual splits with my 2010 splits in parentheses:
12.5 mile 2:09 (2:16)
25 miles 4:24 (4:56)
37.5 miles 7:10 (8:16)
44 miles 8:35 (9:43)
50 miles: Race cancelled for weather. (50 miles in the 2010 race in 11:12)
I know I could run/walk the last six miles in under 1:25, so I'm declaring my 10-hour goal met.
There's something quite satisfying about knowing I'm a better runner in March 2011 than I was in March 2010. But I'm still not where I want to be.
Where do I go from here? I want to get faster. Lots faster. I ran a 4:03 marathon in early January without pushing myself and under-trained. I feel like I have a really good base. I need to devote myself to developing some foot speed. My next marathon is in September. Between now and then I plan to run lots of 5K's and to hit the track.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Mississippi 50
I'm headed to Laurel, Mississippi, this afternoon for the Mississippi 50. I'm totally fired up and can't wait to get to the start line! An entire day of running in the woods is going to be awesome. There's just one minor glitch: Forecast is calling for 80 percent chance of thunderstorms and 1 to 2 inches of rain. Yikes! I'm gonna get wet! But you know what? I don't care! Mississippi 50, here I come!
Goal: 10 hours.
Goal: 10 hours.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Mississippi Blues Marathon 2011
After a three-week break from running in late November/December I wasn't anywhere near "marathon ready" for the Mississippi Blues Marathon on January 8, but I wanted to support the local event and I knew I needed to force myself to do a 20+ mile run if I was going to be ready for the Mississippi 50 on March 5, so I showed up at the start line intent on running slow and easy and just finishing. Funnily enough, it was the best I've ever felt running a marathon. I never hit "the wall" and I still had lots left at the end. So, in taking it really easy I think I learned a lot about marathon strategy. START SLOW.
Anyway, I ran a 4:03 which isn't a PR, but I was happy with it all things considered. But the best part is this picture (click on link below). This is the best marathon picture I've ever had. I'm proud of it. THIS is what you're supposed to look like at the end of a marathon. This picture was taken in the last mile when I was trying to keep my time as close to the 4-hour mark as possible.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)