Correr por España

Greetings from across the pond.  There is another blog that you can reach by clicking on my picture on the side that will tell you more about whats going on here in Spain and will feature some other pictures.  This, my friends, is all about running.

    On the drive from the trainstation to where we would be staying, we passed a couple of trails marked for walking and I deemed this a fantastic opportunity to bring up a question that had been on my mind since we had first been in contact:  "Are there trails around here I could use for running?", I asked.  "Trails for running?", Caroline, our lovely host replied, "Wherever you see a path, road, trail, olive grove, or whatever, you are welcome to run or hike."  My jaw nearly hit the floor.  Let me paint a picture for you:  Town, olive grove for kilometer after kilometer, town, more olive groves, top of a mountain, olive groves, olive groves, town.  That is pretty much what can be seen from any decent vantage point in the area.  Which means, that it is permissable for me to run ANYWHERE.  There are no barbed-wire fences dividing olive grove from olive grove, no bitter farmers biting at the bit to boot you off their land.  There are just vast tracks of land to be explored. 
     If that is not enough to appeal to all runners, consider this: if, during a run, one grows fatigued and doesn't have a Clifbar or the likes handy, they can quickly grab an olive for nourishment, maybe a fig better suits their taste, perhaps a pomegranate will provide proper refreshment, or maybe they just want to add some life to their water with a fresh squeezed lemon.  Either way, everywhere you go you find yourself surrounded by tasty treats. 

Disfruta...

    In my two mornings here, I've spent about two hours running.  I've enjoyed the complete silence, except for the distant (sometimes close) cries of roosters, the racing of rabbits and hares, the stumbling upon dogs, but above all, racing the sun to the top of the mountain of my choice.
    I am throughly enjoying my surroundings, with the liberty to take any turn I'd like as long as I'm willing to run up a mountain to figure out where, in relation to me, the little white village is situated the groves.  The never-ending hills are proving to be a fantastic training ground for the race I'll be running on the 25th to the south of Granada.

Bel Monte 50 Miler

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…. 

           In the three weeks leading up to Bel Monte I had been plagued with occasional calf pain and a nagging left knee to top it off.  This resulted in my confidence plummeting a few weeks out from race day.  I’ve heard that self deprecation can be the most debilitating of all ailments after the start-gun fires.  Fortunately, a strong run the weekend prior with a great group of runners (Seven Sisters Summit Run) gave me just the spark I needed to rekindle my enthusiasm for my first 50-miler.

            For the four preceding days my mind had not wandered far from the impending challenge.  Though I knew my body capable, I had race expectations and goals in mind that were weighing heavy on me.  Having only raced in a couple of races, none exceeding 13.1 miles, in my year-long running career, the prospect of a race (especially of 10+ hours in duration) seemed daunting amidst my expectations.  In an effort to alleviate this stress I made a trip to Jus’ Running in Asheville, a trip for advice instead of merchandise (its free!!).  Here I stated my goals: a top ten finish and sub 10-hour time.  In reply, I received conflicting words of wisdom.  Emily suggested hanging out on someone’s heels and ensuring that no one got too far away that I couldn’t catch them later.  Dan’s advice, on the contrary, was to gun it, run with the top of the pack and let the phantom footsteps behind me fuel me forward.  Though neither pitch sold immediately in my mind, I left feeling more confident about the race.

We had a hoppin' good time in Charlottesville!

           Friday, the day before the race, Melissa, Luna, and I made our way to Charlottesville.  Upon arrival, we met up with Daniel, a dear friend whose close proximity to the race location had been the deciding factor in electing to run it.    We had a Mellow Mushroom “snack” of pizza and sandwich around 2 and a pre-race pasta dinner around 7:30.  We spent the night with my pseudo-aunt and uncle.  Their beautiful home was located about 35 minutes from the race venue, I can’t thank them enough for their hospitality.  I ended up getting into bed around 10:30, far later than I had hoped. 

            Fortunately, I was able to fall asleep pretty quickly and just as quickly I was awake again.  4:00 was the time, bagels and bananas were the crime.  The next hour flew by and we were off to Sherando Lake Recreation Area.  The time before the race passed in a flash, I missed the pre-race briefing because doodies duties called in the Port-a-Jon line. 

            6:30 struck and Gill and Francesca, the race directors, did a roll-call as everyone stood on top of a dam, headlights shining, running in place to keep warm.  I don’t know where my head was, but I (though standing in the front of the pack with my head practically in the megaphone) didn’t hear my number when it was called and didn’t realize it until the next number was called.  That says something about my state of mind that morning, I was truly living in a dream.

            There were many fantastic runners surrounding me at the start, I had no idea where I would fall into the mix after a few hours passed, but I knew that I was going to work my hardest and enjoy the heck out of it.

            The start was a blast.  I pushed ahead as much as I could on the way off of the dam to ensure that I wouldn’t be stuck behind many slower folks once we hopped on the singletrack.   That proved not to be a problem at all, for the first couple or three miles I was running in second place behind a fellow named Brain (he would go on to run an incredible race and finish 2^nd).  It wasn’t too long before Mark and another fellow scooted past me.

Mile 5, preparing to shed some layers.

            When I arrived at the mile 5 aid station following a pretty solid ~1000ft climb Melissa, Dan, and my dad were psyched to see me briefly as I shed my shirt, gloves, and hat and took off running, met by dumbfounded glances from spectators who informed me that it as only 34 degrees out.  I was felt like I was on top of the world at this point and was told I was running in 4^th place.  Shortly after this aid station I passed a 50k runner and continued with a little bit of climbing before starting on a 6-mile descent to the 13.1 mile aid station.  I was passed by a 50 miler through this section and then matched pace with another 50k runner for the remainder of the descent.  

      This was the third aid station of the day, and became he third one that I passed without receiving any fuel.  It was delightful to see Mel, Dad, Dan, and Luna here, I hoped that their cheers would carry me through the next potentially lonely 24 miles before I saw them again at mile 37.  Mel gave me a mini-Cliff Bar and three gels for this stint.  On my way out of the aid station, the fellow with whom I had been running grabbed my shoulder and said, “Promise me you will slow down, I am the 50k lead right now.  This is your first 50 miler, so you need to pace yourself”.  Thus, I had no hesitation to stop and take a gel and use the restroom about a mile out from the aid station and was no discouraged when I was passed by two 50 milers.

            This section, which was miles 13-17 and miles 33-37 was rolling gravel road.  I found it pretty easy to loose steam during this section but kept trucking.  At the 17 mile aid station the 50-milers take a 5 mile round-trip out-and-back over a little mountain, it makes for a solid 1200 ft of gain.  In this section I was passed for the final time by a guy who thought I was a nut-job for running half naked (he was probably right). 

            I decided that the initial ascent would be a fantastic time to take another gel.  Here is a brief side-note about me and ‘Gu’: I only take the tri-berry flavor.  Why?  Because I’ve never taken another one, so why bother trying?  Anyways, the weekend prior at SSSR Adam had been ranting and raving about the new Cherry-Lime flavor being the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.  Thus, I decided to try one.  I ripped off the lid and injected the packet into my mount only to vomit it back out as soon as it hit the back of my throat.  Thanks, Adam.  I’ll stick with Tri-berry.

This is what we were up against, 11000 ft net gain.

            The out-and-back was comfortable(besides throwing up) and when I reached the aid-station again they praised me for making great time through that stretch.  The next aid station was about five miles away.  Four and a half of which were a steady incline and half a mile of which was a monstrous climb.  I reached the top and wolfed down some snacks, filled the water bottle and plummeted down the mountain.  I was heading back from whence I came(save the 5 mile out-and-back) to meet the crew at mile 37.  This was among my best running of the day, for the next 7 miles I felt completely rejuvenated, running like I had just started.  Then came the gravel road…

           The rolling hills of the gravel road were just unreasonably wearing.  My feet grew tired of the rocks underneath, my body was growing fatigued through and through, but I knew there was food waiting for me… And then a six mile climb…

           I was greeted with cheers and horrahs by many people at the aid station.  I think I appreciated it, but my mind was so focused on the fact that I was standing at the foot of six miles of relentless uphill and that I still had another half marathon to run that I did not express my appreciation very well.  I knew I would be moving slowly up this section, and figured it would probably be best if I put a shirt on.  Mine was unavailable, but fortunately my lovely wife was willing to literally give me the shirt off of her back. 

           I climbed and climbed and climbed, when it finally began to level off I was delighted to find that my muscle memory was so keen that even when my muscles were so fatigued I was able to convince myself that I was running strong.  I grabbed some more food at an aid station with 7 miles to go, and then ran three miles very well.  Then things went downhill, literally.

           I had planned to be able to fly through the last four miles(two down the mountain, two on pavement in the park), but a fall and a couple too many hard steps on my knees rendered me incapable of doing so.  In retrospect, it hurts to think of the minutes that walking two downhill miles must have cost me, but it was a learning experience. 

Not feeling too hot at mile 48.

            The final aid station was two miles out from the finish line, I emerged from the woods with a bloody knee and bloodied here I got my final words of encouragement from my fantastic crew and set off running.  Then groaning.  The feeling in my knees was unprecedented, and I hope it never happens again.  Fortunately, I was able to fall into a groove of sorts and finish the last two miles strong(relative to what could have been).

Finished the run in great company!

            I was given a finishers medal and told that I finished in 9^th place.  The clock read 9 hours and 53 minutes when I crossed the line.  Though the day was incredibly demanding, physically and mentally, I feel like I came away with more than I left out there.  I can’t properly express my gratitude towards the crew:  Melissa, Daniel, my dad, Peter and his friends, Max and Joe; and towards Laura and Ross, who so kindly put up with all of us for the weekend, and of course, to everyone cheering my one from afar.  I very much look forward to running another 50 miler in the near future. 

Dan, Mel, me, Dad, Peter (and Luna), Max, and Joe

            

Mount Pisgah Marathon According to Garmin

Details

A Mount Pisgah Marathon

     I had two main sources of inspiration for embarking on this run:
  1) Spending last weekend in and around the Foothills Trail providing aid for and cheering for the various runners daring enough to pit their strength and wit against the daunting 77-mile Foothills Trail and the wretched weather that greeted them at the starting line.  A display of enthusiasm and effort such as I witnessed never fails to inspire me to soar to new heights- which brings me to my next point...
 2) The seasonal closing of the Blue Ridge Parkway had seriously inhibited my ability to meet my weekly panoramic view quota; and I figured there was no better way to find a view that would suffice than to get to the top of a mountain. Rather, the mountain; the mountain that towers over Asheville beckoning to me each day as I weave through I-240 West traffic.  So Mount Pisgah it would be!

Mount Pisgah appears as the tallest,

most central mountain in this photo.

       The stage was set: start at Bent Creek Gap, 9 miles later catch the sunrise from Mount Pisgah, run back to Bent Creek Gap.  I was able to sell this pitch to Rob Rives as a fun, scenic, not even twenty mile run, with the promise of great times and great weather.
      Rob spent the night with me and Melissa Friday.  Once 5:00 AM rolled around Saturday morning we were up and at 'em finalizing and double-checking the contents of our packs for the journey.  My pack had a phone, camera, four gels, two Clifbars, and a liter of water.  Rob's was packed in a similar fashion featuring his choice energy/protein snacks and about 2.5 liters of water.  The disparity between our water quantities was slightly unnerving to me, and as Rob is a far more experienced ultrarunner than I, I figured I was being foolish and resolved to make my drinks few and far between.
    We arrived at Bent Creek a little after 6:00 only to discover that our passage up to Bent Creek Gap was closed to vehicles due to snow and mud.  We exchanged glances; I mentioned the idea of choosing a different route, dismissed it as quickly as it came, and unanimously concluded that we would be starting from where we were, just up the road from Hard Times Trailhead.  We were getting to Mount Pisgah, and that was that.
     We were off.  It was dark.  It was cold.  It was awesome.  Upon our arrival at Bent Creek Gap the sun's rays were just creeping over the horizon bringing beautiful reds and oranges to counter the still-starry westside of the sky.  The ascent from the car was just under 4.5 miles meaning we'd be taking on an extra (nearly) 9 miles for the day.  The prospect of this was both exhilarating and intimidating.  But Mount Pisgah lay in wait and off we went.

First signs of light.

  
      A few miles later we reached the top of Ferrin Knob.  At the end of the awesome, but burly climb Rob's backside and the surrounding woods took on a brilliant hue of red; I turned around to see the sun peering over what seemed to be the edge of the earth.  Looking southward, Mt. Pisgah was being graced with it's first rays of sunlight; looking northeast, Asheville looked as if it was coming to life.  It looked incredible, the Craggies rising up beyond it and the Blacks towering higher still beyond those.  It was funny to look down and see the host of so many training runs(Town Mountain Rd etc...) appear as but mere moguls on the steady slopes rising beyond the French Broad.

Rob raised the sun up for us...

      I had little trouble conserving water early in the run.  The tube of my water bladder was frozen closed disallowing the consumption of any water for the first 10 miles or so.  I suppose it was a blessing in disguise, however, as when we finally returned to the car I still had water to spare!
  
      We took our time on the run.  We ran and hiked quickly uphills and flew like the wind on the downs.  Our arrival at Elk Pasture Gap pitted us against some serious hills to close the last three miles of our trip out.  The final three miles featured nearly 2000' of elevation gain.  At some point early in these climbs I remember Rob saying, "You know, Anton Krupicka would be running 8:30 miles up this"- talk about a morale booster.
      Regardless, we ran at our speed and made it to the top!  For most of the trail to the summit we found ourselves following a set of footprints.  They looked like a dog's prints, but the owner's prints weren't present.  So I guess we'll never know exactly what animal was responsible for them.  We took our time walking up and down Mount Pisgah, focusing on refueling and rehydrating.  We greeted the summit's platform with whoops and hollars and "Praise the Lords", snapped a photo, and got on our way.  We arrived at the summit after about 3 hours and 9 minutes of running.

The view from the top.

     The run down was a blast.  Few things compare to the feeling of running down a winding trail.  The rush that you feel committing to each step after a mere millisecond's planning, the flush of pain to your palm after you use a tree trunk to swing yourself to the bend in the trail, the submission to momentum as gravity makes you move at speeds and in ways you've never dreamed are all irreplaceable.
      We moved pretty quickly on the way down.  Tightness in Rob's hamstring slowed us a little bit, but on a whole the run was significantly easier due to the elevation loss.  Running back down Bent Creek Rd from the gap was slightly monotonous.  But we made it, at last.  Our goal had been to complete the task in under six hours and we did just that.  We crossed the marathon threshold, completing a total of 27 miles, according to Garmin, and finished 10 minutes before 6 hours.
    This is an adventure that I will certainly replicate in the near future.  Just how fast can we do it?

After a good morning's work, we were ready for lunch.

A Homecoming Race

     Friday morning around 9 I caught wind of my dad's Saturday race, the 2010 YMCA Mistletoe Run.  By 10 o'clock I had decided I could squeeze a sub 20 hour visit in to Winston-Salem to cheer my dad on through his third, and what would come to be his fastest, half marathon.  This visit would be squeezed in between rehearsals for the Asheville Ballet's presentation of The Nutcracker.  Once noon rolled around, I was informed that I would be signed up for the race, and immediately started mentally preparing.

      It was far too late for physical preparation as the race was less than 20 hours away, so I just attempted to handle the mental game.  Goal A was to cross the 1:40 plane.  My previous best half marathon was 1:42.02 set in September of this year at the Asheville Citizen-Times Half Marathon.  Goal B would be to break 1:35.  I started attempting to reconcile attempting to break 1:30 when I remembered that my body had not been training for a half marathon.  The rude awakening came from my calves; they were still rattled from the six mile day Thursday, not to mention the two ten-mile days that preceded that.

    Needless to say, this altered my expectations.  I decided to resolve for simply beating my previous best and staying alive to run another day.

    Upon arriving to my parents house in Winston-Salem, my dad and I had one goal in mind that would remain the focus of the next few hours for us: to convince/hoax/coax/sucker David (one of my younger brothers) to join us in the race the next morning.  It took a lot less persuasion than we had anticipated to get him to fold.  Though he ran cross country, his long run prior to the race had been somewhere around 7 miles and that was completed a couple of months before.   He wasn't discouraged a bit though, he knew that finishing was what he wanted to do and all he had to do to finish, was finish.  Say that three times fast...

    Saturday morning we were up dark and early and ready to run.  Calves still aching, I reluctantly pulled on my running wardrobe.  It was a cold day; really cold.  I started with sleeves and tights, hat and gloves, and ended up with just short sleeves and tights on.  The route of the race was great, it essentially went across my parent's neighborhood, my former stomping grounds.  A nice tour through Wake Forest University added enjoyment to the run, as well.

     My goal was to run 7:15 miles.  The first mile flew by in about 7 minutes, I had intended for that one to be about 7:30.  Getting caught in the crowd can prove detrimental to one's timing.  The next couple of miles were right at 7:15.  By mile six, however I had been running for 42 minutes, which meant that I had dropped back down to at least 7 minute miles.  At mile 7 I clocked in at 49:40-something.  I think from this point on my pace continually slowed.  My body was truly fatigued.  I never found a very comfortable groove during this race.  Typically, come race day I feel fleet footed and quick and light; but yesterday, everything just felt sluggish.

     The 13.1 miles came to a close with 1 hour and 37 minutes of time elapsed.  I was extremely exhausted.  Apparently I looked faint as well.  I heard a familiar voice saying, "Pre!  Prefontaine!- Stay there!"(I had earned/been given the nickname Prefontaine during the race; some may say it was due to my mustache, but I will choose to attribute it to my lightning fast race[not]).  This hombre led me to a suitable sitting spot and brought me some water.  Gracias.  Once color had restored to my face I found a spot from which I could cheer on the incoming runners.

    David did an awesome job of sticking out the race.  He finished in under 1 hour 55 minutes; a feat many struggle for months to achieve.  As I hinted at earlier, my dad, Paul, set a new personal best averaging under 9 minutes a mile for the entirety of the race.

    The race was a success by all measures, I'd say.  David set the bar for himself establishing his first PR.  Dad and I both worked hard and lowered our PRs as well.  The biggest disappointment of the race was that all the snacks and drinks were passed out in styrofoam plates and cups.  I mean- there we thousands upon thousands of these things getting used.  Its a crying shame that they cannot make the effort to encourage more sustainable practices, especially on such a large scale.  I don't foresee myself participating in this race again until that has changed.

Mini-Mitchell Challenge/First Marathon

    Having run quite well over the past few weeks I felt compelled to test my body and see just how hard I can push it and still elicit the desired outcome.  The desired outcome being having traveled a couple of dozen miles and remaining uninjured.  For this test I knew that I wanted to get my first 26-miler under my belt and also get to somewhere with a stunning view.  Given the recent Blue Ridge Parkway Closures my options were slightly limited making it very easy to decide on Mount Mitchell as my destination.

    After coaxing(or hoaxing) Adam Hill into joining me for an hour or so of the run, I finally got underway.  We began by Lake Susan in Montreat and made our way up Appalachian Way.  I chose beginning with Appalachian Way because on a map it looks short and sweet; upon beginning the run I realized that this decision would result in about 15 or 20 minutes of running up an 11+% grade.  That woke up the legs...
    For whatever reason, my legs were under the impression they were carrying an extra 30 pounds around.  It may have had something to do with the Camelpak on my back, but, sheesh...  I did not find myself running with the typical fleet-footedness and ease that I have come to expect during the first hour and a half of the run.  Heavy legs combined with stomach cramps led to a flood of frustration that, without the company of Adam early on, may well have washed away my ambition of summiting Mitchell that day.
    After Adam turned back an hour and fifteen minutes in, I continued on carefully controlling consumption of fluids in hopes of keeping my stomach from lashing out at me once again.
    Once I reached the Buncombe Horse Trail at the foot of Mt. Mitchell State Park I felt a  sense of relief knowing that most of the uphill was over.  Camp Alice Trail was a rude re-awakening for my quads featuring little short steps for a steep mile with the shady areas covered in ice and snow.  Alas, I reached the summit!  I was one of few people there.  I stood out like a sore thumb in that I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt while everyone else wore scarves and jackets reminiscent of marshmallows.  Here I rested and soaked up the view for about 20 minutes before beginning the return trip.

A stunning photo taken and sent to me by a nice man from Lancaster, PA

    On the way back down my insides had settled; unfortunately, by this point, my legs had been worn down.  I was unable to find my "happy place" on the way back down either, but persisted nonetheless.  During the final two miles, my legs were pretty tired of running(especially pounding downhill).  Had anyone else been on Old Mitchell Toll Road I may well have been mistaken for a zombie.
    Upon arriving at the top of Appalachian Way again, I began running down in hopes of pushing through the pain in my feet.  I felt as if I was left with no choice but to succumb to the cries of my feet.  I elected to remove my shoes and continue down the mountain wishing all the while I would stumble upon a bicycle or vacant golf cart to expedite my descent.
  
    All in all, I had a fantastic adventure.  The pain was part of the process.  In running for nearly 6 hours, nearly twice as long as I had previously, I realized the pent up potential that my body holds with regards to running.  In covering somewhere between 28 and 30 miles, between 8 and 10 more than I had previously run, I was elated in anticipation of the magnificent stretches of trails I could watch pass beneath my feet in years to come.

   Being in nature one is left with no choice but to marvel at creation.  Be it vast flatlands, rugged mountain tops, or a simple stream snaking its way down a mountain, it is sure to inspire awe in even the hardest of hearts.  Despite this, I truly believe that the finest of all God's creations lies in the mind of man.  One can shatter a rock with the proper hammer, dam any river with enough concrete, burn any forest in conducive conditions, but the will of man is something far harder to shake.

Hanging Out With The Ladies: Second Encounter With The Seven Sisters

    My body has had plenty of time to rest recently.  Two days ago, in honor of the Pitchell Challenge that took place this past weekend, I started on Mt Pisgah and ran 12 miles down to Chestnut Cove clocking in at 1 hour and 50 minutes.  I felt fantastic the whole time, yet slightly unfulfilled.
    To satisfy my hankering for a good, hard long run I elected to spend my vacant Tuesday afternoon running the Seven Sisters Summit Challenge (about 16 miles) for the second time.  Last time I ran it was mid-April of last year with a great group of runners.  The group time was somewhere around 3:20.  Given that I was now in much better shape than I was then, I set a goal for myself of finishing in 3 hours.

    I felt like a million bucks through the entirety of this run.  I exceeded my expectations with a time of 2:46.08, and recovered quite well.  This run was a success by all measures and can't wait to do it again!

Splits:
Lookout- 31'43.17
Sourwood(?)-48'14.72
Rockyhead(?)-55'51.26
Graybeard Falls- 1:21.43
Walker's Knob- 1:34.26
Big Slaty- 1:47.11
Graybeard!- 1:51.18
Big Piney- 2:23.48
Car- 2:46.08