From the Whipple Trail, Pine Valley Wilderness, Dixie National Forest

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I ran the TRT 50K last weekend. It was a slightly strange, staccato few days. Every time the weekend felt like it was about to cohere, the flow was interrupted. In the end, it felt like several different events in one. So rather than try to tease out a narrative thread, I thought I’d simply rope off my jumble of thoughts, occurrences and impressions into broad categories. This approach turns out to be more or less chronological anyway.

The Good

By far, the best thing about the weekend was the chance to spend a bit of time with several of the ultrarunners I most like and admire. I wouldn’t have made the trip if that opportunity had not been there, and the fact that it was ensured the trip would be well worth the while. (It might also be worth nothing that I”m using this forum today for a more conventional race report than is my habit in large part because I wasn’t able to sync up with my heroes nearly as much as I would have liked and want them to know what I was up to out there.)

The race itself is terrific. From the course to the organization to the people, I loved everything about it. If you’re already putting pencil to your 2011 race calendar and have a slot open for a beautiful, challenging, and rewarding 50K, 50M, or 100M in July, it would be hard to beat this one.

I came out of the weekend uninjured: no new injury and no aggravation of anything old. In fact, a few days later I feel better than I have at any time since the second before I wrecked my ankle two months ago. That is no small relief.

Mixing The Good With The Bad

Due to my injury streak, I had not put two “plus” weeks of training together back-to-back since April. The last half of June was particularly bad as I endured a very nasty relapse of the back trouble that ruined the first part of the year. As recently as two weeks before TRT, I was still getting very scary warning spasms whenever I hopped up or off a small obstacle, or caught a toe during short trail runs. A week before TRT, I took my body for one final test drive over a challenging, technical 3.5 hour run. I didn’t feel strong and my back felt pretty vulnerable at the end, but, overall, I felt far better than I thought I would even a week earlier. So, heading into TRT, I didn’t have much fitness but felt pretty sure I wasn’t being completely stupid about my back. Slow-and-mellow was my mantra.

With all this in mind, I made sure I was well toward the back of the line when we hit singletrack five or ten minutes into the run. That meant I hiked nearly the entire few-mile climb until the short descent to Marlette Lake. The pace through this section would usually have left me agitated, but an extra silky warmup was just right on this particular day. Then, from the time the route left singletrack at Marlette Lake until Tunnel Creek, I was able to find a pace that was still well within my mellow zone but a little less hiker-y. I felt really good and the view from Marlette Peak was even better than advertised. An added bonus at the end of this stretch was crossing paths with Gretchen as she was finishing her first Red House lap. That particular moment stands out as the one where I was most happy to be where I was, doing what I was doing.

My game plan for the Red House loop was to take it even easier. Reading reports by Gretchen and others left me with the impression that Red House is a section where flow goes to die, plus my back is put at most risk by steep hills — the stabilization required by going down and the full body effort required by going up. So that’s what I did and it went pretty much to plan: I did lose all sense of flow but didn’t burn many matches or tweak my back getting around the loop.

The next sub-goal, for the section from Tunnel Creek to Snow Valley Peak, was simply to stay fueled-and-hydrated and slow-and-mellow while trying to get back some rhythm. Within about a mile of leaving Tunnel Creek I began to feel pretty good, but on the descent down to the Hobart aid station, my back started to shoot sparks. I was already afraid of the long descent from Snow Valley to the finish and had resolved to drop at the first serious warning signals from my body rather than risk a setback that would cost me weeks … again. Based on what (little) I knew about the two aid stations, I calculated that Hobart was probably my last best chance to err on the side of being conservative. As it turns out, the volunteers acted perfectly when I told them my thinking: they weren’t going to berate me if I dropped but they weren’t going to make it easy either. I caught more good luck when the spasms gradually calmed down after laying flat on my back for awhile in the medical tent. So I decided to continue. The back spasms would eventually return, but without much intensity.

The Ugly

I gradually, progressively felt better on the climb from Hobart to Snow Valley Peak. My back remained fully cooperative and I had decent energy until about the last mile before the aid station. At that point, my stomach started to get seriously sour. This has been a recurrent theme for me in ultra-length events. And I mean every ultra-distant event, running or cycling. Sure, I’ve had plenty of bad days less than 5 hours long, but I can’t recall a single time I’ve gone over 5 hours that didn’t end with a sick stomach. The only question is how sick. I’ve tried a variety of ordinary and engineered foods, but without much luck. The discomfort and even the puking aren’t necessarily the end of the world. But the hard bonk and hours of post-event nausea and dizziness that are frequent accompaniments pretty much suck the fun out of an otherwise perfectly good suffer session.

Anyway, within a mile of starting the long downhill from Snow Valley Peak, the jostling turned my iffy stomach completely against me. I tried to move smoothly and quit consuming anything but water to try to let my stomach settle a bit. Nothing. The only things that helped, slightly, were to puke and to walk. So that’s what I did, the rest of the way in. And, yes, I mean both puking and walking. In fact, I stopped walking at the finish line but didn’t stop puking at semi-regular intervals for another seven hours.

Resting my psoas at the finishing tent.
The cup I’m holding came in mighty handy on the drive back to the hotel.
Photo: Donald (one of the three extra-welcome friendly faces at the finish)

All in all, I figure I lost around an hour and a half to my back and stomach on top of an already geared-down pace. The silver lining of having to go even slower than I thought I’d have to is the bit I mentioned earlier about my back, ankle and legs feeling better now than before the race. Was it a success? As a weekend, no doubt. As a run, I’m still not sure whether the lesson is that I need to be more systematic about solving the nutrition riddle or that I should accept what seems to be my natural “happy zone” of runs 2-4 hours long with a soft cap of about 5 hours.

On that note, a plea: seasoned ultrarunners who have run the nutrition gauntlet and eventually solved it, I’m begging you to comment with advice.

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With the return of the Tour de France to the high mountains, my thoughts have wandered back to a topic I occasionally ponder: why does the trail running scene take relatively little explicit account of body type? I mean, in cycling, no one expects even the the strongest strong man in the peloton to do anything but lose time, gobs of it, when the road points up in a sustained fashion. Why? Because he’s a Diesel not an Angel.

Let’s get a bit more concrete.

Intuitively, it seems like the dispositive factors in mountain running are essentially the same as cycling uphill, namely, power and weight. Cyclists at the top of the sport have a very good handle on their maximum explosive and sustained power, and what that means for going uphill at a given weight. With a relatively simple formula, they are able to predict with considerable accuracy how long it will take, say, a 70 kilo rider to complete a 500 meter climb at 250 watts. Shoot, it isn’t limited to top pros: in 2010 probably 90% of all self-respecting Cat 3s — the level of the “local hero” — are friendly with their holy grail metric, watts/kg. With these few figures, comparisons between different days and between different athletes, are pretty easy, with obvious implications for specialization of training, event selection, pacing, etc.

So sprinters like Cavendish or Farrar are the Usain Bolts of the peloton, able to generate incredible power in short bursts. Diesels like Cancellara can generate massive sustained power, but are penalized by their weight in the mountains (~80 kilos is a pretty common weight for a Diesel, whereas true climbers, or Angels, rarely exceed about 65kg; yep, easily a difference of 30+ lbs). I’m sure you can think of the trail running analog to the different types of cyclist. Killian Jornet = Alberto Contador, for instance.

So why isn’t similar methodology and specialization utilized in running? Is it simply that power is more easily and accurately measured in real time on a bike than on foot? Too unromantic? Just a matter of time? Something else?

While I’m at it, trail running also needs better nicknames for the heroes of the sport. For example, Il Falco (The Falcon) for Paolo Savoldelli, the best descender in the peloton a few years back, is simply awesome. The Alaskan Assassin is a start, I suppose.

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Just a reminder that the ongoing Salomon sale — 20% off any and all Salomon items in stock — runs through the holiday weekend (ending Monday at midnight). The next time this gear will be discounted is in the fall. At that point, the discounts will be deeper but the selection more shallow.

It probably goes without saying, but I dig Salomon gear. It has a style entirely familiar to North Americans, but with a few hints that might tip you off to its French roots. Kinda like the music of Stereolab or Phoenix. Sometimes these stylistic flourishes are subtle; sometimes less so (see e.g. Kilian’s kit at WSER last Saturday).

On that front, we don’t have our hands on the particular apparel Kilian rocked with such panache, but we do have in stock other items from Salomon’s Exo compression line, including the kit worn by the male runner above (click the image for a closer look). The 3/4 tight version of these shorts were a staple in my cool weather rotation this past winter. Love ‘em.

It’s a jungle out there … an urban jungle that is.

Chicago is known for many things: pizza; a team of Cubs that haven’t quite found their roar; improv comedy; live theatre; an amazing outdoor festival season; and, even a major road marathon. But one thing it’s not really known for is a budding trail running scene. That’s all about to change.

You really have to make the commitment to get out of the city in order to discover the flora and fauna of the Midwest, and to that end, it helps to have a set of wheels, but once you have those, you’re set. Pick a direction, any direction, and go!

If you just can’t get loose…

Of course, you could pound out some easy miles along the Lakefront Path (nearly 20 miles long start to finish), but it’s almost entirely asphalt (with a generous crushed gravel path alongside it once you reach Fullerton Avenue, on the northside of the city). It’s great for days you don’t have time to drive to the trails, and it certainly could be considered “wilderness” running considering the vast array of human life you can experience in one run along the Path on any given day.

A little further afield, the options get nice

One might marvel at the number of trail choices near Chicago, from the hilly, crushed-gravel greatness of Waterfall Glen in Darien, to the serene solitude of the double-track and bridle trails of LeRoy Oakes Forest Preserve in St. Charles, to the oft-overlooked trail system of the southern Kettle Moraine in our neighbor to the north, Wisconsin. The choices abound! But if you have only one day, and require something easy to get to and close to the city, I point you to my personal favorite system of trails, a mere 25 minutes southwest of the Loop: Palos Forest Preserve.

With more than 30 miles (and growing!) of trails, it’s a veritable smorgasbord of trail running. Whether you have a hankering for dirt, limestone, single-track, multi-track, flat, hilly … you name it, it’s here. Just make sure to bring a copy of the trail map and enough to drink and eat … you’ll want to be out there all day!

My “go to” trail begins at the Little Red School House in the northern section of the Preserve. It’s a ~8.3 mile loop, consisting of wider crushed gravel for the first half of the loop and then becoming singletrack dirt trail the rest of the time. The loop always brings you back to the parking area, making it easy to refuel, make a quick change of shoes or shirt, or to meet up with other runners for another loop. You have to make sure to pay attention to the trail markers, though … it’s easy to make a wrong turn and end up with bonus miles! Just as the yellow loop is about to transition into singletrack, the trail markers are faded and look beige…they are indeed yellow!

Around the halfway point of the loop, you’ll get to a T intersection without any true yellow markers. Follow the beige marker to the right and then hop onto the yellow trail when it pops up on the left. You are now entering singletrack!! It’s delicious, so soak it up! A little bit of rocky, a little bit of rooty, not a lot of muddy since it’s rolling, tons of green and Midwestern versions of wildflowers.

This section is kinda known for a healthy snake population in the warm months, so just keep an eye out for them … fear not, they are a bit creepy but harmless. This part of the trail is winding and beautiful, so don’t forget to stop a moment to take a look around you and listen to the deafening silence. After a couple of miles, the trail will intersect with another trail going off to your left, and a picnic area to your right; continue straight, unless you want to repeat what you just ran, in which case you’ll then go left and be brought back to the start of the singletrack. Continuing straight, though, you’re still on singletrack and will be until the end of the loop, more or less. It will spill you out into a field that runs along the road. Run to the end and cross the street to your right, then cross it again so now you’re kitty corner to where the trail ‘ends’. Continue up the road, maybe less than a 1/4 mile and you’ll see the yellow trail pop up again on your left. Hey, I didn’t say this was perfect, it is still Cook County after all! Get back on the trail and continue on your merry way. After the yellow puts you back on widetrack trail, jump onto the black trail for more singletrack.

This section is about 1.4 miles and is even better than what you’ve seen so far! Short, steep drop-offs, more rolling and winding singletrack, and plenty of green to distract you. At the end of this segment, you will return to the yellow trail and, if you follow it to the right, you’ll be back at the trailhead in under a mile. But, if you decide to go left, you can repeat the black loop again … that’s what I’d do!

Need some torture?

If you’re looking for some decent hill running, head down route 45 a little further south from the schoolhouse, to 119th Street and bunk up at Forty Acre Woods. Follow the yellow blazes for quality hills for repeats. There is even the option of running a few … hundred … stairs when the trail brings you behind and then around the former toboggan slides (the stairs are still there and it’s a great mid-run butt kicker, if you’re into that sort of thing). If you’re really masochistic, run up the hill where the slides used to be. In the summer, and pretty much anytime there’s been a good bit of rain, you’ll encounter plenty of stream crossings, and areas with standing water on the trail. Both are generally easy to avoid if you want to keep the toes dry thanks to a bridge system. But the areas with standing water are a sort of choose-your-own-adventure each time; pick a spot and run through it! Another reason the loop course comes in handy, shoe changes if you can’t stand running with wet feet. This loop is around 8.25 miles around.

Tidbits

Almost every time I’m on these trails I encounter some curious wildlife, usually of the Bambi or coyote variety. There has been talk of snakes at times, but I’ve yet to see one of these guys. Otherwise, you’re in for a real treat! The forest canopy provides great shade for most of the loop, and a nice umbrella for you when it’s raining. Port-o-johns are provided in a couple spots, and there’s a water pump along the trail that’s come in handy many times. Make sure to keep an ear open for approaching mountain bikers, bird watchers and other runners. These are popular trails when the weather cooperates, but most of the time you will have the singletrack trail to yourself.

Noshing

One trade-off for such stellar trail running in the ‘burbs is a lack of decent post-run grub. Nothing too original in the area, but that’s okay because I always find myself gravitating towards a ginormous burrito and chips with guacamole … that’s perfect because just 10 miles or so further south on Rt. 45 is a Chipotle with huge burritos filled with all the good stuff you need after you finish a hard effort (what, gobs of sour cream isn’t “good stuff”?). But, if your stomach can wait until you get back into town, stop off at Jim’s Original, located at 1250 S. Union Avenue … it’s a quick detour off of 55N and onto 90/94. Your stomach will thank you for the most delicious (not to mention, the original) Maxwell Street Polish ever and it will totally forgive you for waiting to feed it.

Text and photo credit: Paige, Chicago Ultrarunners (CHUG)

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It felt self-indulgent to complain about my little ankle mishap at any length, but I thought it would make an appropriate One Thing. After all, some weeks are marked by the sublime and others…are not. It’s just part of the game. Sometimes you eat the bar and all that.

But, after the photo alone elicited a few questions about what happened I decided I’d share the brief blow-by-blow, after all. Thank you for your sympathy!

The fact is, I’m not sure what exactly happened. One second I was moving well, the next there was a crunch and a profound and nearly immediate sense of dread about what just happened. After I took stock, I felt pretty confident there was nothing broken or completely torn. The biggest concern was that the injury was “high” ankle, above the joint. I know just enough about that variety of ankle injury to know that they can present a different set of challenges from the standard ankle sprain. In any case, I had about 1/3 of my run still in front of me and I knew the window was already closing to get that done before the swelling and stiffness began in earnest. The piper would be paid later in the day no matter what I did in the next half-hour. So I took off.

The one thing I can point to is that it happened on a tricky little section of slickrock, replete with odd little creases, cracks and lumps. The funny thing is, I almost never have trouble with this stuff. When I crash, it is almost always on merely moderately technical trail where my guard is lowered slightly and a sneaky rock or root gets the better of me. For the truly challenging stuff, I guess I slow down enough and focus enough to usually avoid trouble. I doubt I’m unique in this respect. But, on this run, I was in time trial mode, so I was pushing the tempo and taking risks.

So that’s the story of what has to be the worst ankle injury I’ve sustained while trail running. I’ve had mild-to-moderate sprains of course, but this one is more like what I experienced a few times playing competitive basketball in high school and college. Of course, as the pain and swelling subsides, the focus will change to rehabbing the ankle and doing my best (via cross-training) to limit the loss of running fitness. You know the drill. (And you may have noticed I already roll with roadie legs, so it’s no great hardship to switch up the mix.)

The moral victory is that, even with the wreck, I was only slower than my fastest recorded time by about 3 minutes.

Really, this seems to be the theme of my 2010. I’ve had significantly more setbacks this year than my average. Rather than having stretches of consistent routine interrupted by setbacks, it has sort of been the reverse. Some have been self-inflicted; others not exactly. But nothing has been catastrophic. And, for that, I am profoundly thankful.

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I hope everyone had a wonderful weekend. A few store announcements this morning.

Men’s Sabino Trail

Our first shipment of Montrail shoes has arrived. For now, we’re stocking the Sabino Trail and Mountain Masochist.

As you might guess from its color scheme, the Sabino is more or less the descendant of the legendary Hardrock. In keeping with the broad trend away from very overbuilt shoes, the Sabino is considerably less stiff than the Hardrock, but is nevertheless a very sturdy, stable shoe. Among the shoes we offer, I would locate it between the Oboz Hardscrabble, which is a beast of a shoe very much like the old-school Hardrock, and the Vasque Mindbender, which is a great stability shoe for speed freaks.

The Mountain Masochist is a pretty well known and beloved shoe by now. It debuted last year and promptly began winning accolades, including a Gear of the Year award by Outside Magazine. I’ve logged quite a few miles in the Masochist over the past couple of months while the process of establishing our Montrail account unspooled, and I’m a fan. I’ll post a full review shortly.

IB Bodyfit 200 – Longsleeve Oasis Crew

We are running a final sale on remaining Icebreaker Bodyfit base layers. All items are now half off. If you know Icebreaker’s super-premium merino, you also know the opportunity to pick up an item or two at these prices is not to be missed. And, if you don’t already know Icebreaker, well, to know it is to love it. With that in mind, last fall we put a couple of items in the hands of one of our gear review panel. That review is here. We will have another opinion posted here shortly.

The current Dutch Auction (DA) item is our last pair of men’s XT Wings (v 1.0). They’re a size 12.5 and the current bid is $40. That’s $80 off retail. Get ‘em for the bigfoot in your life. Or, shoot, flip ‘em on eBay. As always, if the DA item doesn’t sell at this bid, the price will drop.

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