The Great Virtual Race Across Tennessee 1000K - Let's do it

Day 1

Sometimes a challenge comes along at the perfect time and you just have to do it. No hesitation. No looking back. Just jump in with two feet and BAM! You're in. Throw in two months of quarantine from a global pandemic and mix it with the back end of a midlife crisis and you’ve got yourself a guy that would say yes to just about anything.

Thankfully, The Great Virtual Race Across Tennessee 1000K found me before someone trying to make me a good deal on a Winnebago could. 

Apparently, there are many more people like me hungry to virtually get out there. Nearly 10,000 crazies are signed up for this thing, including my wife (it was actually her idea to sign up first) and most of my running buddies.

The Great Virtual Race Across Tennessee 1000K is a name that almost makes further description not necessary. It’s a 621-mile run from the southwest corner of Tennessee all the way over to the far eastern tip of the long, skinny state, and those of us that fell for it are running it – virtually.

The miles are real, but where they’re run is not.

In actuality, I’ll just be running big circles, small circles, and probably some out and backs, around and through the heart of my home suburb of Brentwood with all the comforts of food from my own refrigerator, cool air from the AC and the softness of my own bed.

Plus, I'll be able to keep my job. Also key. 

The only real rule to this thing is that you can’t count steps to the bathroom and across the house and whatnot. The miles have to be actual miles running or intentionally walking.

At the end of each day, racers record their miles and chart their virtual progress across the state. The race started today – May 1 and ends on August 31.

Mathematically, they say 5 miles per day will get you across the finish line by August 31. Don't get me wrong. Five miles per day from May 1 to August 31 is a challenge in itself, but I’m hoping to do it faster than that. The plan is to treat this like a real race and try to cover as much ground as I can in as few days as I can.

Today, in order to prove to myself that I am serious about this – because I am – I ran 10.1 miles. A long way for a regular weekday run, but not very far when you’re trying to cross the Volunteer State.

I’m not even to Memphis yet. In fact, I’m not even in Tennessee – what?

It turns out, to run all the way across Tennessee, from furthest point, to furthest point, you have to go through Arkansas. Who would have thunk? Not this guy.

See? I already learned something. 

Jake's Run Streak

11/22 4
11/23 2
11/24 2
11/25 6
11/26 4
11/27 3
11/28 6
11/29 3 - 1st run in Hokas
11/30 7
12/1   3
12/2   6 - addie 1 mile
12/3   4 - addie 1 mile
12/4   4
12/5   5
12/6   3
12/7  18 - week total 43
12/8   2
12/9   4
12/10  5
12/11  2
12/12  4
12/13  2
12/14  26.2 - week total 47
12/15  2
12/16  3
12/17  2
12/18  2
12/19  2
12/20  5
12/21  6 - week total 22

12/22  5

12/23  2
________
154

Renaissance 10K

Anita Beth started her comeback tour this morning with a great first 10K!

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.

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.

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.

Mississippi 50 Stuff

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.

Injuries from Running with Dogs

Brought to you (and me) by Spike the Bulldog. Thanks Spike.

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. 

From Running Pics

Coke 10k in Corinth

AB and I had a blast at the Coke 10k in Corinth this morning. One week removed from my epic (I'll always refer to it as "epic") Grand Canyon adventure I was able to post a 47:57 (7:44 pace). Now that I've completed a couple 50 milers, my new goal is to add some speed. Today's 10k was the first stab at getting quicker. The 7:44 pace is a good start. Now I have a benchmark.

AB ran a 53:02 and finished 5th in her age group and she's bringing home some hardware. She was stoked.

Grand Canyon 2010 - R2R2R

There are so many things to say about this trip...

My brother Bailey, John Brower and myself arrived at Grand Canyon National Park last Thursday evening following 24 hours in a Black Dodge Charger (pictures below). Despite many hours in the car and our desperate need for a clean bathroom, we went straight to the rim. After eight weeks of anticipation, we just couldn't wait a minute longer to see it. As we stumbled down from the parking lot and looked out over that huge crevasse, I had three thoughts:

1. The Grand Canyon doesn't look anything like I thought it would;
2. It's huge; and
3. I'm not ready for this.

Gulp.

Brower spotted the beginning of the Bright Angel Trail thousands of feet below. That's the trail that would us take down into the Canyon.

"So where's the North Rim?" I asked.

Bailey pointed to the furthest point you could point across the Canyon. It looked like it was 100 miles away and higher than high.

"Right there," he said. "That's the North Rim."

I knew the North Rim was supposed to be 23 miles away, but it looked so much further. I hoped he was wrong.

We jumped in the car and drove over to the Bright Angel Trailhead, where we were greeted by a big sign that says: "Do not try to hike to the river and back in one day." and "Can you run the Boston Marathon? Jane Doe did and she died trying to hike to the river and back in one day."

Double Gulp. I'm a far cry from running the Boston Marathon.

Bailey said, "Don't worry Jake, we're not going to the river and back. We're going all the way across and back!"

I eked out an unenthusiastic, "Yay..." I was so worried I could hardly speak at dinner.

Rim to rim to rim is about 46 miles. And there are thousands of feet of elevation change. In other words, GIANT hills. While I had completed a 50 mile run in early March, it was a flat 50 miler. And I didn't exactly finish in record time. I was beyond concerned about my ability to finish this run.

Despite the fear, I was ready to go with a Camel Bak chock full of Gu and Cliff Bars, a 70 oz. bladder and two handheld water bottles just after the alarm went off at 2 a.m. The three of us were running down the trail at 3 a.m.

And I do mean DOWN the trail.

It was straight down. We literally ran downhill for miles. Steep grades. Stair steps. Down we went. Back and forth on the switch backs, jumping mule pee and trying to follow the light of our head lamps. Down, down, down. It was dark, so we couldn't see anything but blackness and trail. We finally stopped for a moment and shined our headlamps up, where we saw a gigantic cliff looming straight over us like a tidal wave just before it crashes over your head. We were officially in the Canyon.

On down we went. After about two hours of running downhill, the thought finally occurred to me: "I'm going to have to run back up this thing at some point today.... Crap."

As we descended still further the Canyon walls began to appear as enormous dark shadows in the first light of the morning sky. We were obligated to stop and ooh and ah. Then down we went some more.

Day broke as we finally reached the bottom and saw the rushing waters of the Colorado River. It was beautiful.

We crossed the transparent metal grate bridge, took some photos and made our way to Phantom Ranch, the National Park's Canyon-Bottom Hotel, Canteen and Campground. Rational people get there by mule or take a day-long hike and spend the night. Not us. We stopped for water planning to see it again in about 26 miles. I looked at my watch. We had run downhill for two hours and forty minutes. Straight. Thoughts began to creep in my mind about a graceful way to head back and leave Bailey and Brower to it. The thought of telling all my friends and family that I'd  turned back at mile 10 made me keep going. That and the fear of being eaten by a mountain lion. That was on the sign too. Or the internet, I can't remember. But apparently there are mountain lions in the Grand Canyon and if you're alone, you're an easier lunch. I elected to stay with Brower and Bails. We filled our bottles and left.

For the next few miles we ran through the magnificent "Box", a name given that portion of the canyon for the closely quartered high canyon walls surrounding the trail on either side. The trail started flat and began to incline. We were headed about six or seven miles to our next stop - the Cottonwood campground, located at around mile 16. We ran a steady pace. It felt good to be running on more even ground. The inclines started to get gradually steeper. At about mile 14 my legs were starting to burn. I looked at my watch. By this time we had been running almost five hours.

"Okay," I thought. "If I turn around at Cottonwood, that'll be a nice 50K. Who can call me a wuss for running a 50K in the Grand Canyon?" I thought about the mountain lion. I was beginning to feel like I was willing to risk being a meal after all.

"Uh guys," I said, as we busily filled our bottles at Cottonwood's faucet. "I might turn back. I just don't think I can make it."

"Nope. You're finishing," Brower said.

"I'm scared I'll be a liability to you guys if I keep going," I said.

"You won't be," Brower replied.

"Ok."

And off we went.

The hills were getting steeper. The scenery was more grassy meadows with some cacti and flowers. It was pretty. But my legs still hurt. Brower, who is fast as a cheetah and can eat Double Macs from McDonald's like nobody's business, put me in the lead. That's what fast people do when they don't want to be tempted to leave slow people. They follow the slow people. I knew that, because I'd been there before myself. But not on this trip. Leading also had the effect of making me feel responsible for their pace, which made me push my limits as much as I could and still feel like I had a chance to finish. I didn't want them suffering because of my slowness. Onward I pushed. We started to hit some steeper grades. I had to walk those. Quickly, but I did walk them. We ran and walked the grades like that all the way to the beginning of the real ascent. Up the North Rim. Once we hit those hills, it was all walking. After a few minutes going up the the ascent to the North Rim, even the walking began to get difficult. The altitude was kicking in. I was sucking oxygen. I tried to eat a Cliff Bar as we walked and nearly choked on it. I needed the oxygen too bad to chew. Those Cliff Bars are nothing if not a chewy mouthful. I now hate Cliff Bars.

The northern trail was incredible. The trail was literally dynamited into the side of sheer rock wall. The drop-offs were so long I couldn't even look down. It freaked me out. But the views were amazing, so I did look out.

We trudged on. I started to think I wouldn't be able to make it all the way up. We were at about mile 20 and I thought it might be a good idea to just let Bailey and Brower summit without me. But of course I didn't. My heart was absolutely pounding, as though I was running sub-seven minute miles. But I wasn't of course. I was walking. It was so hard.

We passed through a rock tunnel which meant two miles to the top. It also meant snow. We finished the last two miles of the climb trying not to slip on ice or snow. It just added to the difficulty. At times Bailey and I were leaning against the cliff and walking sideways across the icey trails like crabs so we wouldn't fall off the trail. That didn't help the heart rate. It seemed as though the trail would never end. But then, a few minutes later I heard Bailey and Brower, who were about 50 yards ahead, whooping. We made it rim to rim in 7:40.

It was awesome. We took a few pics and started back. Brower killed it down the slope and Bailey and I ran as fast as our screaming quads would allow. Running downhill for that long will rip your quads up. Making it to the top returned my confidence. I pushed it pretty hard and we made it back to Phantom Ranch fairly quickly. But when we got there I was completely wiped. I was dragging my way through the Ranch. I knew Bright Angel and 10 miles of climbs separated me from ever being finished. But it had to be done.

Brower encouraged urgency in getting to the top. I think he wanted us to beat the cold and dark. It was 3 p.m. 10 miles uphill would take a while. Especially at Jake speed.

"I'll do my best," I said, knowing that wouldn't be much...

We ran for about two miles and then the sudden ascent up Bright Angel began. That's when my legs said no mas. I had to walk those hills. We walked, walked and walked some more. My whole body screamed. Walking got harder and harder. I grunted about ever third step and groaned every fourth. It was rough. And the grades only got steeper. At times I would look up at the rim and wonder how there was even a trail that made it up there. The south rim looked to be eternity away and five miles straight up. Oh yeah...it was!

My back started to really ache. It was killing me so bad that Brower noticed me clutching it as I walked. He took my Camel Bak and stuffed it inside his backpack. I had no pride left. I just wanted to finish. I said thanks.

"That's why they call me the Shuttle," he said.

We marched on. Those switchbacks that we flew down 14 hours ago, were endless, steep, and slow. Stopping wasn't an option. I didn't want to be featured on that dang sign next year. It became a matter of putting one foot in front of the other. I was determined to finish.

At 7:15 we made the Rim. I was so relieved. Total time 16 hours. It was a great feeling to finish. The pizza and beer at the hotel room that night in Flagstaff was probably the best I've ever tasted. When you cheat death, pizza just tastes better.

Without a doubt, the Grand Canyon was the hardest run I've ever done. But it was awesome. Accomplishing it with Bailey and Brower was great. I definitely couldn't have done it without them. And I wouldn't have thought to do it without Bailey. Who knows? I might even do it again. Though I might do some hill training before I go.

You would think getting my butt totally kicked by a trail like that might make me consider hanging up the old running shoes, or perhaps just training for 10K's and Marathons from now on. Nope. Four days removed from this trip, I only want to run more. Weird, huh?

Here's some pics from the trip.

4-25-10 Grand Canyon

3rd times the charm

Jake gets off with a warning.

71 in a 55

Bailey is bringing home a souvenir from Texas.

Ultra Driver

John "Shuttle" Brower is creating a new sport: Ultra Driving.
Combining vast amounts of running with vast amounts of driving.

Homeward Bound

We're headed home from our epic Grand Canyon adventure, and boy are we stiff! I look like a wooden-legged man.

Finished

Very tired. Finished in 16 hours. Hardest thing I've ever done.

Report and picks to come.

Canyon at Sunset

Dinner

After a shower and some rest, Cindy treated us to dinner at El Tavar.
It was awesome. Tomorrow we run.

Snowing!

Grand Canyon!

Carbo Loading

We enjoyed lunch in Flagstaff.