2016 NCMC Turkey Trot 5k

I made a jump this year, my third year of running. I made some bold decisions and I pursued some large goals race-wise, putting the local 5ks on the back burner. Still, I decided two years ago that I would make the NCMC Turkey Trot a Thanksgiving tradition. It's great to have the consistency of a race on the same course at the same time every year with many of the same people.

With my focus on longer, steady-paced stuff over the year, including a trail half-marathon less than three weeks prior, I didn't focus much on 5k speed. I did try a little speed work in the fall, but I didn't make it a consistent practice. Then the week leading up to the race I felt a little fatigued. So there was no expectation at the starting line on race day.

I set my 5k PR in 2014 on July 4th, a course that runs along the local 4th of July Parade route, where the whole first and third miles are a steady downhill. Early in 2016 I had brushes with hitting that mark or besting it on a couple of routine training runs. That was before I started training with the goal of hitting the 50k mark in a 6 hour race. It's a vastly different strategy, to the point that I often hear ultramarathoners who can't stand the idea of a 5k race.

At the start line of the Turkey Trot I saw a guy I'm Twitter friends with. He won the Loveland Classic 10k as well as the 10k that accompanied the Longmont Trail Half Marathon that I ran in July. Knowing he's a swift and experienced runner, I got on his heels to get through the crowd as the race started into the first couple of corners. I figure since I was able to stay with him and eventually lose him in the crowd, that he wasn't out to win this race, but this strategy worked out in my favor.

I looked at my watch just once during the race, right as it vibrated for the first mile mark. It was sub 7:30, that's what I recall. That surprised me a lot. I hadn't pushed that pace in a long time, but I felt very strong and relaxed and in control. My stride was good and my breathing didn't feel the slightest bit labored. In previous years I was gasping for air at the halfway water stop, and I'd try to down a little solo cup of water while staying in motion, because my mouth was so dry from panting. This time I kept moving through it, and into a gentle downhill in mile two.

My trail running experience this year has given me a lot of confidence to make up time on downhills. We don't have anything very steep in my city, but it translates well enough. I caught up to several groups, letting my momentum build on the descent, sometimes running outside of the coned off bike lane to pass the congestion.

With less than a mile to go, the course of the accompanying 2k race meets up with the 5k which seemed to add a bit more congestion this year. It got a little tight trying to slalom around a lot of walkers and kids weaving around. I don't think I got slowed down too awful much, but I feel like it's just common courtesy to pick a side of the road and stick to it if your walking on a race course, but I digress.

I made a steady push up the last little hill and pushed the proverbial pedal down for the last two city blocks or so, and really gave all I had left into the crowded finish area. I saw the clock just past the 22 minute mark a few steps before I sprinted across the timing strip. I stopped my watch at 22:18. The official time was a tad bit faster at 22:13. It turned out to be a huge PR. I really didn't expect that when I lined up that morning. Maybe at best, I though I could know a few seconds off of it, not 1:18 faster than my previous best. It was quite a good feeling. All the work that I put in throughout the year translated to so many accomplishments at various distances and surfaces, and to have such a monster 5k at my last race of the year just felt like a perfect bow on 2016.

Reflections and Trials and the Highlands Ranch Backcountry Wilderness Half Marathon

I want to remember how miserable I feel at the end of a race.

It's been well over three weeks since the Backcountry Wilderness Half Marathon, a 100% runnable trail race; much more gentle terrain than the Black Hawk race at the end of July, and my time showed that: just over 2 hours. Second best half marathon and my PR was set on an extremely flat course. This wasn't crazy, some 1100' of climbing, certainly nothing to sneeze at.

It was an interesting course. Once outside of the concrete path connecting a park and rec center to the ritzy Highlands Ranch homes built tall and feet from each other's walls to fit in all their excess space, it followed what seemed like road along the edge of pasture: Two parallel tire ruts worn into the wild grasses, pocked with prairie dog holes. The climbs were gentle and the downhills were perfect for making up time. I'd seen it pointed out that the trails were probably made more with mountain bikes in mind than for hiking or running. For 8 miles they went, wide and rolling and smooth, then things switched up. We were treated to a single track: rocky and rooty, just when you're comfortable and maybe feeling a little lackadaisical about picking up your feet. And it started with a good downhill section with no room to pass those who may not have the same confidence. I knew that steady descent meant that we'd have to soon go back up, and that's were it started to get hard. That's what I want to remember.

There's a lot of good in making the best of things. That's not something many people who've known me would expect that I'd be good at, but it something that I've really gotten in the habit of. Even things that would often try my last nerve have become things that I almost enjoy ( like work.) It's running that has precipitated this obnoxious positivity. It's the trials of racing to that finish line, that is where you find the strength. I feel like in the minutes and the hours after crossing that line and I've had a bunch of water and a little food and I've caught my breathe, I so quickly forget how miserable those last miles were. I downplay that conversation those parts of my mind were having while assessing the pain and the weakness and the distance still to go and the fight to determine how much I would give it and how much I would give in. When I'm back home and posting the finished info to Strava and the pictures of my smile and medal to Instagram, even I am already not appreciating what I went through. 

This time I want to make myself remember because I started so strong, but the last 2 miles felt so long, and I know I could have probably given a little more, but what I gave at the time felt like the bottom of the tank. I want to remember how awful the race in Black Hawk was, at the first half, because I was hungover and need to shit during a race that would be tough in the best conditions. I want to remember the time lost in Longmont with less than a mile left when the weaker part of my will won the argument and I slowed to a walk to get my legs back under me, I damn well could have waited five more minutes til I was finished to do that. I want to remember that feeling at the Dizzy Goat of that 9th lap that the gals at the scoring table were surprised I wanted to do, and the pain of getting up that hill, of falling, of grasping at the waistline of my sagging, sweat-soaked shorts as I pushed through to the finish a final time. I look at the photo of my face as I did that. It's tough to remember the feeling, though.

I want to remember looking back so that next time I can remember that I've been there before, I've faced it, I reacted either with perseverance or not and to know that I can do it again, better, stronger. These trials I'm putting myself through by choice, because the reward in the end is so great: confidence and strength and joy -- fucking joy!

It is a privilege to run and a privilege to choose your trials. I've taken it so for granted for so long, but now I recognize it. I'm grateful for it. I want to remember the hard times I choose to face because I've long attempted to avoid hard times in reality, but that's where the measure of yourself is found and forged.

A photo posted by Matthew Ronne (@matthewronne) on Nov 5, 2016 at 6:33pm PDT

Vegan MoFo

If you've arrived here looking for Vegan MoFo posts, I apologize. I signed up for the event with the best of intentions, figuring with a little homework I could get it done. I didn't foresee some things coming up that have gotten in my way. I haven't been cooking much at home. I haven't made it to my favorite restaurants. 

Thanks for stopping by. I should have a post up next week about my race this weekend. Some other life stuff is sorting out, and I'll share that when I can.

Aaaand two months later

Jeez, blogs always start off with the best of intentions. Well, this one is about my running, and to be fair, August and September were as quiet as this blog was on that front. I had a strong month of running in August, no races though, and at the end of the month picked up an IT band issue that led to a lot of rest in September. Anyone who's had an IT issue know that they seem to just linger, but with some regular stretching and a new focus on other exercise outside of running, it's gotten to be quite manageable, and I'm back to over 30 miles each of the past couple of weeks.

I've spent these weeks in between races focusing on my run club. It's the best part of what running has brought me. There is so much importance there. We humans are social animals. We can't ignore that. I keep meeting new, friendly people through running. As an adult, that can be a tough thing, making new friends. Run club is an invaluable part of my life.

I am signed up for a race, a trail half marathon on November 5 with a couple of the ladies from run club, I also will do the local Turkey Trot 5k on Thanksgiving. I've incorporated some speed work into my routine a bit lately, I am gunning for besting my 5k PR there. It's been a while since I put my focus on that.

Other than running, I am planning on participating in Vegan Month Of Food or VeganMoFo here on this blog. That's a deal where bloggers are given a daily food topic to post about. VeganMoFo happened in October in 2011, which was the month I gave myself a vegan diet challenge 5 years ago that I have not and do not expect to go back on. I thought it would be a good thing for me participate in this year to give myself a challenge to blog every day, work on some of the creative energy I'm feeling right now, and to play with and share some of my remedial recipes. So look forward to that in November.

To go with October challenges, I'm working on consistent morning routines like is so the rage right now. Every morning so far this month has started early with at leat 15 minutes of meditation, then a quick exercise. It's mostly been some sit-ups, pushups and planks, with a little variation, (like the pushups were out of the question a few days in with some soreness from jumping into the routine a bit too much too quick,) but consistency grows on itself. That's what I'm going for, not just to be able to run as long and far as I want, but to be my best self.
So that's my little refresher. 

I hope everyone has a great October.

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Black Hawk Trail Half Marathon Race Report

After a flat half marathon in Longmont, I had two weeks to kind of change focus for the mountains of Golden Gate Canyon State Park and the Black Hawk Trail Half Marathon. I hadn't been to any proper trails since the Dizzy Goat in June, and didn't find time or will to do so with the heat of July upon us. I ran repeats on the upper section of my home park in Greeley, Josephine B. Jone Park and Open Space, as often as I could. It's crushed gravel and a relatively mild 40 foot climb, but it's what I had available to me most often. It wouldn't even begin to prepare me for what I was about to face.

On Saturday July 30th I drove down to Base Camp at Golden Gate Canyon, a campground on the outer bounds of the park and near the gaming town of Black Hawk. I arrived a little later than initially planned, having watched most of a weather delayed Colorado Rapids game back home before I left.
It was a pleasant evening in the mountains. The campground had a great view of Mount Thorodin and Tremont to the north. It was a quick walk around the sold out camp ground. There was a general store with alcohol available at the attached Pickle Liquors. (They sold t-shirts, they thought it was so clever.) I did grab some beer, something I normally wouldn't do on the night before a race, but figured it might help me get to sleep early.

Pickle Liquors

Mt Thorodin to the left - Tremont toward the middle

Camp

I don't know if it's true, but it seems that camping before a race is a rite of passage for trail runners. This was my first time doing so. My wife and I bought this ten very early on in our dating life with the best intentions of being outdoorsy people after camping on a friend's family land. It hadn't even been used in the 9 years since. I finally put it up, cheap piece of shit from K-Mart that it is. The bungees holding the hooks on the rain cover weren't all tied, but I got them good enough to hold for one night. I used a crooked charcoal grill on the campsite to warm up some lentils and rice I premade at home. Then I was in my sleeping bag pretty close to sundown, even with the campground noises like a nearby campfire singalong to the greatest hits of the likes of Pink Floyd and John Cougar Mellancamp.

Camp Lentils

I slept pretty good except for my neighbors waking up at one point and cursing loudly in the middle of the night for some reason. Well that didn't make me feel so bad for having to get up be a little noisy breaking camp at 5.

The alarm I set on my watch roused me, and I put on my run gear. For this race it was my Newton BoCo Sol shoes, my go-to Feetures socks, Reebok 2in1 Shorts, some unbranded tech shirt I picked up somewhere, and my VegRunChat Halo Headband.

It was a little tough getting things going that early in the morning. I couldn't manage to get the tent rolled back up to fit in its bag (Still haven't fixed that over a week later,) the elastic inside one of the tent polls came undone, and somewhere between the tent and my truck I misplaced my wallet. After everything was loaded up I went over by the general store where I could be a little more noisy and dug more for it and walked back to the campsite to give it one last once over, no dice. I didn't worry too much initially. It was perplexing, but I was pretty sure that it had to be in the truck somewhere, and I had to go.

5am

The race was a little ways away from the campground. I found it easily enough, following the signs that Endurance Race Series put up. It was a drive though. I arrived fairly early, and kept looking for my wallet as I ate a little food and used a restroom at the parking lot a few times.  I didn't have a substantial breakfast, I was going a little light on fuel but took a couple of Larabars with me after having felt some hunger in my previous race.

At the start line we were notified that the race was to be 12 miles, rather than the usual half marathon distance. That didn't bug me so much. I had heard of trail races having fluctuations in mileage. I guess you could change the name of the race, but whatever. I felt like I could probably use the restroom one more time, but it was time to start.

This one started really rough. I was not feeling it within the first mile. I knew I was under-prepared, but my brain was foggy, my legs were week, I kept wondering where my wallet was, maybe my camp neighbors came into my tent and stole it, and I knew I was going to need to poop before long. I was able to stay with the same group of people for the first 4 miles, but kind of lost them on a climb and then into the second aid station. After that I was on my own for a couple miles with the occasional person passing me. Just ahead of mile 5 the course begins to climb and climb with no reprieve. I grouped up with a couple of guys ahead of me and a couple of girls coming up behind me and we power hiked these tight, tree-lined switchbacks for nearly 2 miles and 1,000 feet, and when we got to the top: it was fun. I felt good, like this is what this hobby is about. I just fuckin walked up a mountain. The guy in front of me turned over the top and we saw a downhill, and I said, "Well that's a welcome sight."

The misery wasn't completely over. It was a net downhill the rest of the way, but still some steep climbs to be had. I still needed to use a restroom, luckily aid 3 was at the bottom of a hill at a trailhead with facilities, possibly a more welcome site than the downhill in mile 6. After that I took it easy: Hike the steep parts, run the flat and push a little on the downhill. I really enjoyed the last few miles. I came down the final hill and turned to run into the finish at 2:29:23. I figured sub 3 hours on a mountainous course for a half would be a good enough goal. I guess I need to up that as under-prepared, a little hungover, and needing to poop I did 12 miles in 2 and a half.

Start/Finish and this rock

After heading to the finish area and having a post race banana and and IPA, which, I've had beer after races twice now, and my taste buds must be really screwed up after a race because it hasn't tasted good either time. Again, there wasn't much else for the plant based athlete to refuel after the race. The same guacamole company was there as was in Longmont, but they didn't seem to have brought chips or some other guacamole delivery vehicle. So I went back to my truck to snack and find my wallet before I got too far away from the campground. I found that I stupidly left the door unlocked, right by the trail and restrooms, with all my camping gear, a couple of electronics, and my wallet presumably buried inside. I pulled out the tent and felt around to see if I left my wallet in a storage pocket then I saw it sitting on the cup holder for jump seat in the back. Sweat off my brow. 

So everything worked out. Again, I leave a race satisfied, a little wiser about what I need to do to improve. I took a little rest week to start August: just three runs for a little over 20 miles. There's nothing on the calendar at this point. I did turn down a Ragnar opportunity for this upcoming weekend. I'd love to do that, but the timing's not right. I'm going to take some more time for myself, my wife and dogs and see what comes up.

Another little thing here at the end. I've been really heartbroken this morning. A woman named Michelle Walters was killed in a crash with a truck during the bike portion of the Ironman Boulder race yesterday (8/7/16). Michelle was also a participant with me at the Dizzy Goat Trail Races in June, and, though I didn't really make friends with anyone out there, I recognize her photo, and there was so much comradery in this little limited entry race where you're all repeatedly running the same 3 mile loop and encouraging the same faces for hours on end, I can't help but feel some connection to her personally having done that race, somewhat, together. 

We're also coming up on the third anniversary of my brother-in-law's and 5th anniversary of my cousin's deaths in a traffic crashes, and this stuff weighs so heavily on my mind all the time. More than 30,000 people die due to car crashes every year in the US. Most of these are because of little mistakes. There is no excuse for it. Follow the rules. Pay attention to driving when you are driving. Stay between the lines. Stop at stoplights and stop signs and look both ways and down sidewalks and bike lanes. This starts with each of us.

Hoka One One Longmont "Trail" Half Marathon - Race Report

Post Dizzy Goat I took some time to relax, but I kind of felt a void not having a next goal on the calendar. I didn't know if I really needed one. I came up short of my 50k goal in Nebraska, but I didn't feel like I was ready to go right back to such time consuming training for that, so I left it alone and decided not to sign up for anything right then. I had a pin in a half marathon in Longmont, I thought I may sign up for if I still felt like running after the Dizzy Goat. I put a pin in an 8mile trail race in Wyoming at the end of August, and was leaning toward making a weekend trip of that next. Then I was fortunate enough to win an Instagram contest for a free entry to an Endurance Race Series event. They boast the "Largest Trail Race Series in Colorado," holding mostly Halfs and 10ks within a couple hours of the Denver area. They put on the aforementioned Longmont race, but another one of their races caught my eye.

The Black Hawk Trail Half Marathon is one of the more challenging races they put on. It's not far outside of the Denver area, in a Golden Gate Canyon State Park near the eponymous gambling town, and I figured if they were going to give me a free race entry, I'd go ahead and pay for another and buy some merchandise from them. So I registered for the Longmont Trail Half Marathon on my dime, and used my free entry for the slightly pricier Black Hawk Trail Half Marathon.

At the time I booked the races, Longmont was only a couple of weeks out. I had backed off the mileage just a little bit from my Dizzy Goat training levels, but was still right around 30 miles a week. The course for Longmont is trail, really, in name only: much of it on concrete bike path, and very little elevation change. I figured this would be a good PR race in my first organized half marathon, even at my current long and slow training levels.

Right about the time I registered for the races, I did start to feel some fatigue, like the months prior had kind of caught up with me, maybe I didn't rest enough after the Dizzy Goat. So last week I took it really easy, not tapering so much, but making sure to schedule my runs to get the mileage I wanted through Thursday and rest Friday and Saturday ahead of the race. That plan seemed to work well, except that Saturday I went stand up paddleboarding for the first time ever, and it was more on knee paddleboarding for much of it, which works your quads more than one might imagine. It's always a surprise to me, for some reason, when I switch up activities to find out that even though I put 25-50 miles on my legs running each week, that if they're worked in a different way they're not in the shape for it. I see why crosstraining is so recommended.The paddleboarding was only an hour. My quads were a little grumpy Sunday morning, but it didn't feel like much to be worried about.

I took off for Longmont a little before 6am. Start time was 7:45, moved ahead last minute because of expected temperatures in the 90s. I had a green juice before leaving and had a protein shake on the drive, something I usually avoid, but I thought I'd experiment with it thinking might help with the fatigue. I drank another green juice between the parking lot and the registration/expo area a half mile away. After checking in, I went back to the parking lot, sunscreened, body glided, ditched my long sleeve shirt, affixed my bib and chip, then went back to wait in line at the restrooms while eating a banana. I got done with the restroom just in time for the call for runners to head to the start. I filled up my bottle and got in the group.

I started out a little hot after I found some room on the double wide trail around the lake at Roger's Grove Park. I kept an eye on my pace on my Garmin and tried to keep things a little slower than I wanted to go for the first lap.

The course quickly joined up with concrete bike path, with gravel to the side if you wanted to avoid concrete. The path left the park alongside the trickling Saint Vrain River, Y'd off to the right around a couple of ponds, out and backed to Y the other direction then back again and back to the starting area, then out to do it over again. Not the way I would have thought to design a race course, but it works, and it doesn't have any conflicts with motor traffic.

My first lap was a little faster than I wanted to go, but I recalled my race in April at the Loveland Classic 10k, where I kept looking at my watch to see I was moving a little faster than planned, but was surprised at how strong I felt, so I thought I'd just keep at it. At least I knew that if I slowed a little bit on the second leg, that I still had given myself a good window to hit my goal.

I actually started to get hungry around 5 miles in. That I did not expect. I suppose I trained too much for a shorter looped course with well stocked aid stations the past few months. This course had two aid stations, one only had Gatorade and water, the other had the Jelly Belly Sport Beans, but I hadn't looked into those beforehand. I did accept the Gatorade for sugar boost. I left two Larabars in my truck like a dope. One of those may have helped enough to overcome the lulls I hit on the second lap.

It kind of got rough between mile 8 and the finish. My arms were tingling. That was a new sensation, obvious that so much blood was being sent to my legs that there wasn't much left for the rest of me. luckily I never felt faint. If I slowed a bit on a corner or a hill, I could feel the tightness in my quads multiplying from my paddling adventure the day before. There were some ups as well, but the downs really cost me, especially at the point with less than a mile to go, and I could see the trail around the lakes going into the finish line and it felt like just too much, and I gave in to the temptation to walk a bit. I got passed by one of the people that, when I had passed her earlier, I was determined to keep behind me (because she and another girl were wearing Western Dairy Association cycling jerseys, and this vegan wanted to beat them, and I thought they were way behind me because one of them was sneaking off in the bushes for a pit stop when I passed them before they had reached the last turn around.) But her passing me gave me the boost I needed to at least talk my legs into giving it the gas for that last little bit and to stay on her heels. I let the pointless, one sided rivalry go easily enough since I'm 35 and only been running a couple years, and they are probably teenagers who haven't smoked for 16 years, and we're that equal. (And guess who the Western Dairy Association girls asked to take their post race photo? The vegan guy! Not that they knew that.)

Anyway, I received a cool finisher's medal with a bottle opener in it, and a cold wet towel at the finish line, that was welcome.

I think if I trained specifically for a flat-fast half marathon for a couple more weeks than I had, with some speed-work and such, I could improve greatly on my time, but as it was I beat my goal of breaking two hours with plenty of cushion at 1:55:22.

Endurance Race Series put on a good event. I'd like some other fuel options at the aid stations, and more veggie options at the post race, but what are you going to do in this weird world of mixing intense physical activity with burgers and hot dogs? Yucatan Guacamole was a sponsor, offering chips and guac, and that's the kind of thing I eat at home after a long run, so thumbs up there. There was also some bananas and cantaloupe, almond butter, bagels provided by ERS.

So now I focus again on real trail running as much as I can for the next week and a half. The Black Hawk race is listed as very technical trail and 2,900 feet of climbing, so it's a very different kind of race from Longmont and even the Dizzy Goat. I'm interested to see how I'll do and to learn what I need going forward.

2016 Dizzy Goat 6 Hour | #BarelyUltra Race Report

When I got this wild idea in my head back in March to attempt a trail ultra, I thought maybe I'd keep it to myself. I imagined returning to run club the week after in some sort of glory of the fete. I don't know why. One of my run club teammates had just run her first marathon just ahead of her 65th birthday. One was preparing to run a marathon with the goal of qualifying for Boston. Three of them were preparing to do the Boulder Half-Ironman triathlon. There was no reason to keep it secret. It would be best to share the experience with the others training for their own epic events, and doing anything for the egotistic glory, like whatever was going through my brain, I know, ends up in disappointment. So I posted it in my blog. I shared it with my run club. I was very open and honest about my goal, the preparation, my doubts, and how I was otherwise feeling for the 3 months of training. It was a constant question of intention, ego and humility, strength and vulnerability. In the end, as I finished my final long training run short of the planned distance, I knew I was going forward with the right intention. I knew I had done what I could. I put in the effort I could have and prepared to the best of my ability at this time. I had no ideas of going out there to turn heads and impress people. I was going to be with other runners pounding the dirt for 6 hours, and to find out what I could do.

---

I got dropped off at Schramm State Recreation Area sometime around 8am. My race didn't start until 1pm. The Henry Doorly Zoo in Omaha opened at 9, and Kristina wanted to be there from open to close, so I got dropped off way early. It was fine, the runners competing in the 12 Hour race were around an hour in, and I got to sit and watch them as they finished laps and hit the aid station and make mental notes about how quickly these braver souls were turning laps, as well as their strategies for eating and hydrating and keeping cool as the miles added up and sun warmed the muddy ground.

It had rained overnight, raucous thunderstorms from 1:30 in the morning and still sprinkling as we drove down to Schramm. The 12 hour runners dealt with most of the mud long before my race started, but the morning was a bit chilly and the day wasn't going to get as warm as previously predicted. Still, with the humidity and mid-80s temperatures, it was going to be rough.

I set up my own personal rest area just off the start line, with a camp chair, duffle and cooler bag. I over-prepared: extra shoes and socks and tape and body glide and my mp3 player, charging options for my phone or watch. Being vegan and unsure what the aid station would have for me, I made a couple of wraps with baked tofu and guac and spinach, a couple of PB&Js, four bottles of green juice, Larabars, Dates, Vega hydrator packets, nuts, all stuff I had taken with me in training. I didn't want to leave anything to chance.

So I sat around for a few hours, under some trees, in the mud. I tried to go off and meditate, but that didn't last long because of bugs and I couldn't get far enough away from the music blaring at the start line. I had to change out of my socks and shoes early on because my feet were already soaked long before the race from loitering in the mud. I watched bugs flying around, talked to a 12 hour runner who made a valiant effort to race on an ankle the size of a softball he earned in a misstep earlier in the week.

I surprisingly never really got nervous. I've heard people say they can't sleep the night before a big race. Other than the thunderstorms occasionally rousing me, I slept pretty good, and I hung out at the race for a while and never felt uneasy about what I was about to do. I really think I was just resigned to my preparation and ready to face whatever was to happen. (Did I mention I was humble? Can you believe how humble I am?)

Finally it started getting toward 1. We were given some pre-race instruction. We were notified that the rain had caused a course change, and that it would now be a three mile circuit, losing a quarter of a mile. That changed calculations. It was now 7 laps to earn a medal instead of 6. That didn't faze me much, I really didn't doubt that I would break 21 miles. It did change my plans a little bit, but I wasn't going to let that stress me out. A few minutes later, we were counted down from 10 then released onto the course with a air horn.

Let's Get Dizzy -- Start area for the race

The first lap went clockwise, the easier start as you enter the forest with just a modest climb. When I'm trail running I often think of the Mark Twain quote "Golf is a good walk spoiled." I alter it: "Trail running is a waste of a perfectly good hike." You're in nature, rolling over hills on the single track and your either running right by it or struggling to regain some composure so you can run right by it again. You have to watch your step or you're going to take a spill, so you don't take in too much of the surroundings. Schramm is a gorgeous park. Heavily wooded, nice rolling trails, three bridges (one a suspension bridge) over trickling creeks that have carved their way through the hills. I was never really able to orient myself and get a feel for the park as much as I was just following the signs and markers.

Exiting the forest on the first lap, you are introduced to "What The Hill?" One of the signature features of the GOATz events in Schramm. 124' in elevation in just a quarter of a mile. Clockwise, you get to go down it. I'm pretty good at bombing hills. That was a strength in this race. Once at the bottom you're directed out into a grassy area with old fish hatchery ponds and that you wind through. This was the only area with real mud on it, even though it was all out in the sun. Then you hit the main road of the park and cruise back in to the start area. You're given a pink silicone bracelet on odd number laps, after the finish line, you toss it into a bucket of soapy water and put on a green one. The color corresponds to the trail markings for the direction you're going, the markings the color of your bracelet stay to your right.

Try running on a suspension bridge with 1-3-8 other people

So I put on a green bracelet, topped off the water bottle, then back the way I just came. Now I face climbing "What The Hill?" and the rest of the course the opposite direction.

Pictures can't do "What The Hill?" justice. This is a beast.

After lap two, I had my first food stop. The aid stations were incidentally friendly to the plant based athlete. I think I was the only one repping that lifestyle there, but the options were watermelon, PB&J wedges, raw potato, pretzels, potato chips, pickles, soda, cinnamon whiskey (for some reason I didn't figure out [It might have been for after, but the beer was for after and it didn't sit on the aid table all day. The whiskey did. Maybe it was for the volunteers.]) Tailwind: Fat, salt, water, simple carbs, complex carbs, sugar, empty calories, whatever to fuel the next few miles. (I've heard it said that ultra running is just an eating contest with some running around it.) I had some watermelon, and I stopped at my bag and had a quick gulp of green juice.

After the third lap I stopped for some of my tofu wrap, something more substantial, and a mess.

Fifth lap was right at halfway, the 3 hour race literally started as I was coming into the finish line. I sat then and had the most food of the day, assessed the legs, and feet. Despite wet socks, no blisters or hot spots felt like they were forming. I tightened up my shoes and shorts and went back out.

Overall, there was a lot of walking, plenty of power hiking. When I hit flat, I worked hard to talk myself into running, and, when I had downhills, I pushed it. That was my strategy as the miles passed and the laps turned.

I finished the medal goal of 7 laps with an hour and like twenty minutes to go. I grabbed a bunch of food at the aid station, grabbed my phone from my duffle to take some pictures on a lap I knew would be slow, and maybe my last, and I walked out of the starting area and started trotting on the road toward the bottom of "What The Hill?" one last time. I wound through the forest, fewer runners were out there with me. Some of the volunteers were already starting to clean up. I was still able to really push it on the downhill as I wound down out of the trees and onto the main stretch into the finish. I saw the clock still had plenty of time on it. I turned in my green bracelet and the volunteer scorekeeper asked if I was done. I said I wanted to go one more, and she kind of looked at me with surprise and looked at the tick marks on her clipboard. I got a pink bracelet and turned to see Kristina there trying to talk to me. I was a bit curt, because I knew I was going to be close on time, and I needed to go if I was going to get another lap in. I should have had her come up there with me and walk and talk with me as I got some food and water refill and went back out to the course. I think she understood.

The last lap started off strong. The weight of my phone in my pocket started pulling on my shorts, though, and I couldn't bring myself to lose time to stop to tighten them up. That's also the only lap I had a fall on, nothing major, caught a root or something, a couple little scrapes, but I got right back up. There were quite a few other runners out there, still some 12 hour racers even. We all cheered each other on as we passed as we had for the whole day up until then, but more meaningful at that time. When I fell, there was a guy a few steps ahead of me making sure I was OK right away. Real comradery out there. I came out of the trees to the top of "What The Hill?" and I just let it go as much as I had down the hill, water bottle in my left hand, waste band of my shorts wadded up in my right. When I reached the bottom and out on the grass between the hatchery ponds, I pushed and pushed, then slowed and then pushed, and fought with my mind to push a little more until I got out on the pavement and into the final straight into the finish, and put the pedal down, looking at my watch and the finish line clock and just giving every ounce I had to make sure I came in under the 6 hour mark.  And I did, with about 70 seconds to spare. A medal was put around my head and Kristina was able to snap a pic of me coming in, and I was done. I was fucking exhausted from that final push. I went back to the aid station to fill Kristina and my water bottles, and then over to my base camp to move to over where Kristina was only to sit down and kind of zone out for quite a while.

All said and done 
27 miles 
2,157 feet in climbing 
5:58:47 
6th place overall for the 6 hour race, 
4th place men 
7th best mens performance on the 6 hour course in the 4 year history of the race, even with the altered course, which it sounds like will be the new normal course going forward.

Not bad for my first trail race and longest distance run to date. I'm so inspired and proud of myself. I keep learning how strong I am. I'm still going to chase down that 50k mark in the near future. I have some ideas of what I need to work on to do it and to get it done a little faster.

My name is going to be on that right hand side for at least a year! How awesome is that?

I owe a lot to my run club teammates, my Twitter friends especially in #VegRunChat and #RunChat. So much knowledge from podcasts Trail Runner Nation, Trail Talk with Rock Creek Runner, Rich Roll, and especially Ultra Ordinary, who are also all Twitter friends. Extra inspiration from great plant based runners David Clark, Scott Jurek, Catra Corbett, Sage Canaday and their books and YouTube videos, Instagram posts, and everything. So much love goes out to the GOATz and the race volunteers and Red Dirt Running Company and all the people cheering or tabling, and all those who made the Dizzy Goat run. I know that the support is why trail running is special, but to be there first hand, it means so much. 

Most importantly, thanks Kristina. I know the training time monopolized my free time for the past three months. I know there's some strain there. I also know you see what it means to me. I think you know that I've been a lot happier and focused and less aloof since I've been running. I love you and love having you by my side through all of this. We can focus now on having a summah.

Run for 20 minutes and you'll feel better. Run another 20 and you might tire. Add on 3 hours and you'll hurt, but keep going and you'll see--and hear and smell and taste--the world with a vividness that will make your former life pale. 

Scott Jurek | Eat And Run

Loveland Classic 10k | Race Report

I’m really building up training for a 6 hour race in June. There are benefits to mixing a couple races into the training, but a 10k is pretty short at this point in training. Nonetheless, my run club set up a team to run the Loveland Classic 10k and we needed three people to get the team discount, so I promised to go. Since I haven’t actually raced anything longer than a 5k and this is the closest race that is over 5k, I knew I could throw that into a Saturday and make up the training miles on Sunday.

Loveland is 20 some miles away from home, but the traffic situation can make it questionable as to how long it takes to get there. I’ve done it in 15 minutes up to 45. I gave myself an hour from leaving home to the time when registration opened, and I arrived in 20 minutes flat. Everything was being set up at that point and I was able to check in right away, so it wasn’t terrible, except it was cold. It was supposed to be a warm day, and it eventually was, but it started out pretty chilly. April has been so unpredictable for that around here. I was shivering in my running shorts and long sleeve shirt with gloves. So I went out on the path the race was to be on and started running to warm up. 

I think having nearly an hour-and-a-half, to warm up and fuel and hit the restroom was actually a good plan. I was able to really get loose and hydrate and greet my teammates as they arrived. As race time got about 15 minutes out, I ditched my long sleeve and gloves, (which I probably could have left on,) and went the quarter mile out from the race expo area to the 10k start line.

This is an area just off I-25 here in Northern Colorado where there’s a strip mall, an outlet mall, some office buildings, a hospital, and some apartments. There are two little lakes with this 3+ mile recreational path around them which is where the 5k and 10k took place. The 10k started a little way down the path and a few minutes ahead of the 5k and took nearly two loops of the course. The course is flat and about half is on concrete with a lot on gravel and dirt. I was worried about a bottleneck on such a narrow path to start, but there really wan’t a problem. 

When the race started I stayed a few feet behind one of my run club teammates who I know runs a strong pace, expecting that she would help me reserve some at the start, as I’m not good at pacing myself early. After about half a mile, I decided I was holding back a bit too much, so I passed her and took off to the sound of her cheering me on.

With my fancy Garmin watch, I kept an eye every couple of miles on my pace, and I really paid attention to my breathing (Something I’ve really been working on.) Going through the finish line area for the first lap I felt fast and my legs felt good and my pace was steady. I looked at the course ahead and had a little conversation with myself about facing another lap saying, “This is what we are here to do, we’ve got nothing else to do. Everything’s good. We’re having a great race. Just keep going,” because running the same thing twice can seem monotonous sometimes. On the second lap, about mile 4, I passed an older guy and put a mental target on the back of another runner who seemed to be going about my pace, thinking if I can stay with him or close in on him, I’ll have a strong finish. About mile 5, I was finally starting to feel some fatigue. I didn’t slow down too much, but I heard footsteps coming up on my shoulder, from out of nowhere I got passed by another guy about my age. I let him go to my left and I focused back on my breathe, instead of my legs, as we turned around a corner to where you can see the finish line. For the last half mile I found some final strength and paced the guy who had just passed me, got up on his heels a bit and we both passed the other guy who I had been reeling in for most of the second lap right as we crossed the finish. I gave that guy a high five and congratulated him for his run. Then I went to go find some fruit and to cool down for a minute before my first run club teammate would finish.

Some two and a half years ago my brother-in-law was killed in a car crash. We spent several days holding vigil in the aforementioned hospital near this race, and I spent some time walking this path around these lakes during those days. The area in the second lap where I got passed is a spot where a dirt access road meets the sidewalk that opens up to see the hospital across the street. This is one of the incidents in my life that has sparked my pursuits in endurance athletics over the past few years. Those memories weighed a bit in the back of my mind. I’m not too sentimental. I don’t believe my brother-in-law is out there looking down on us, but running this race on these paths (where I walked around, trying to get out of the waiting room, to get some fresh air while my family was facing such a horrible situation) now these few years later and how much my life has changed since then and not in a small way because of that tragedy in my family and trying to come to terms with what life should be for me, something felt a little symbolic to be running a race here. As I waited for my teammate I really let myself look back on that again for a minute. Then I got up with camera in hand to snap a pic of my fellow run club member crossing the finish line.

Karla, the run club teammate I started the race with, finished about 4 minutes after I did. We waited then for our third teammate, Sue, (who is awesome, having run her first marathon a couple months ago in her mid 60s.) Though she’s slower than us thirty-somethings, she’s the only one of us three who took home an age group award!

….

The previous Thursday at run club I set a PR on the 10k at just under 52 minutes. That was sort-of race day practice and I had a goal for 50 minutes for the race. The course at the Loveland Classic is flat and fast and the weather was cool and everything just went about as well as I could hope for, and I had a monster run. I kept a pretty steady pace for me, with my slowest mile at 7:45 and fastest 7:34. I turned in an official time of 47:49 to finish 23rd overall. It was just a great race all around. Green Events here in northern Colorado puts on a great event, and I’ll be happy to race one of their many runs again. 

The focus is still on the Dizzy Goat 6 Hour race coming up in June. I’ve got some heavy training weeks between now and then. My running is strong right now. I’m really confident. I can’t wait to see how much I can get out of this body of mine.

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All photos by Green Events, posted publicly on Facebook