It's All Downhill From Here - Revel Mt Charleston Marathon Write-Up

It's a while since I blogged and I wanted to make sure I had something other than a standard race report to write about. So that's the case with the Revel Mt Charleston Marathon outside of Vegas. It was my 109th road marathon, so I have plenty to compare it too, but it was completely unlike any of the others, as you can tell from the course profile below. Yes, that's a 5,126ft net elevation drop!

I tend to prefer the downhills in general since I find them more fun and tend to have strong legs for absorbing the impact plus decent technical ability for rugged trails. This obviously wasn't technical, but that amount of pounding on a hard surface can destroy the quads and calves, leading to a huge slow-down nearer the end. So I focused on a couple of tactics to deal with this in my training:

1. A lot of hilly weight vest power-hiking - virtually daily for around two miles with a 10lb or 20lb vest for two months prior to the race (like this).

2. Downhill speed sessions around five times in the month or two before the race, often on interesting Strava segments (like this or this).

The danger with the latter training method is that it greatly increases the chance of injuries as well as causing a lot of muscle damage that takes a little longer to recover from and undoes some of the hard work in flatter speed sessions as a result. I have a good sense of what my body can handle regarding downhills so was able to use years of experience to refine things.

However, despite committing six months to train for this (which includes my off season, so really more like four months), I picked up a traumatic calf injury at the start of March in a race. That meant March was limited to mainly hiking and almost no running, which isn't ideal for a race at the end of April. Yet there's no point in rushing things as it's not possible to 'catch up' on lost training, so I restarted again in April, having lost minimal speed and gained stronger legs.

All that specific training paid off and race day had very good running weather. The start area is at 7,500ft altitude and it was just below freezing, so I ended up wearing a jacket the whole way. That only worked because it was a surprisingly cold day in Vegas for April, with the temps at the finish around 60 degrees F. The race starts with the sharpest hill of the day, a quarter of a mile, 60ft uphill. So it's not smart to push too hard up that then it's mainly downhill at around a -4-5% gradient for the next 21 miles, except for tiny hills at miles 3.75 and 12.

Everything felt amazing through the first half and I was very surprised to drop a couple of sub 5-min/miles as well as most miles around 5:10-5:18. I'd hoped to maintain just under 5:30s, but things felt comfortable so I went with it. On the way I ran quicker than my 5k (16:20), 10k (32:30), 10-mile (51:50), half (1:08:20) and 20-mile (1:44:58) PRs - those times were from this marathon and all are way faster than my flat race times.

The last 10k involved a tail-wind for most of it, but a reduced gradient of around -1-2%, which felt a lot harder, so the wind really helped. At mile 23 there was an out-and-back for half a mile than was insanely hard at that stage with a headwind and a slight uphill followed by more uphill, so much so that my mile split was 6:50. Then wind-assisted, gentle downhill for the last couple of miles and a 2:21:34 finish, over 11 mins under my PR from 2009.

This type of race is a fantastic variation on the standard flat marathon, especially for trail and mountain runners whose legs can take more of a pounding than most road runners. It was also very beautiful along mountain roads for the majority of the distance.

A few people have asked me how much I think the downhill helped and I'd estimate it made me about 15 mins quicker than if I'd raced a flat marathon on the same day...but I didn't train for a flat marathon and didn't have a huge amount of speed (compared to what I'd want) for that type of terrain. When I looked through times from last year I saw that runners in the 2:30s were around 5-6 mins under their previous PRs, but I'd expect a specifically well-trained runner to do better than that, especially with the weather conditions this year (the second and third placed runners in 2017 look like they were 8 mins and 7 mins under their PRs, respectively, according to Athlinks). Someone who hadn't trained for downhills at all might run this race slower than a flat marathon, especially runners with slower PRs and lower mileage training.

I'm ecstatic with this result and thought that 2:25 would have been a great day if things went perfectly after the injury, but without running the course previously it's always difficult to judge. The gear choices were all perfect too, especially the Altra Escalante shoes, which absorbed the impact really well and remained comfy throughout.

Congrats to all the finishers and here's the Strava file for my race. One I'll cherish for a long time...or at least til I run this race again.

Gear:

Shoes - Altra Boston Escalante
Apparel - Altra, including the Men's Performance Half Zip jacket
Shades - Julbo Aero
Nutrition - Clif Bar Shot Energy Gels
Socks - Drymax Max Protection Running
Lubrication - Squirrel's Nut Butter
Post-race recovery compression - OS1st Calf Compression Sleeves
Arm sleeves - Buff UV Arm Sleeves

Comrades and Western States 2016

The start and finish arch for WS100. Never thought I'd be so involved with the race I'd sponsor it. A very proud moment. Photo: Amy Sharman

Rather than a standard race report for the past couple of events, I thought it'd be more helpful to spell out what I learnt. Ultra running is about constantly improving and avoiding making past mistakes in training and racing, so that process never ends (it's one of the most fascinating aspects of ultras).

I've doubled up on two of my favorite races four times now and they're four weeks apart on totally different terrain. Comrades in South Africa is at the end of May and is the biggest and most competitive ultra in the world, then Western States 100 in California at the end of June and is generally considered to be the premier ultra in the US. Comrades is a hilly road race, WS100 is a hot, rolling trail race with a mid-range of vertical gain and loss.

This year I'd hoped to really go for it at Comrades and break six hours for the 55.5 mile course, but it didn't happen thanks to an injury in the build-up and illness right before the race while on vacation in Paris. So what did I learn from that? Mainly I learnt that just getting to run Comrades at all is still a huge thrill and that without the pressure of running hard it's more relaxed and fun. However, I'm driven by competition and seeing how well I can run so the relaxed race days will mainly have to wait til my 40s (or maybe 50s). I also learnt that with around one hour of sleep a night for the week before the race (due to coughing non-stop through the night), I was able to run fairly normally and not feel too tired. Probably good news if I ever run some multi-day, non-stop race like Tor des Geants. But that's not on the radar for the foreseeable future.

Anyway, continual coughing fits during Comrades didn't annoy me as much as I thought they would since I'd already adjusted my goals and accepted the reality for the day instead of the race I'd dreamed of having. This is a lesson I've learnt before and one that's vital to getting the most of out a given situation in a race.

So Comrades ended up being a hard training run for WS100, which gave it a useful purpose and kept my motivation up. 6h25m (Strava data here), over 24 mins slower than my best, but that's still pretty close and was at a reasonably comfy effort for the most part. Next time...

In the weeks between the races I knew that recovery was the most important and useful factor for performing well at WS100 so I let my body heal with hiking and easy running. In 2015 my heat training was inadequate so that was another area I could work on without harming my recovery. I had some dizzy, energy-sapping slow hike/runs with up to nine layers of clothing, plus another four on just my head. Not the most fun, but it paid off in a huge way on race day.

Heat training - hiking at Lake Tahoe in my winter gear. Photo: Amy Sharman

Pre-WS100 I was invited to take part in the Veteran's Panel, which was a great chance to question my own race day strategy. Here's the video, which includes some excellent info from he panel of Gunhild Swanson, Erika Lindland, Danny Westergaard and myself.



Then on to race day, which was hotter than average (a high of around 100F in Auburn compared to around 90F as a median). This was possibly the first time I was genuinely felt excited on race morning instead of a dread that I have to run a full 100 miles and that part of it will feel horrible, guaranteed.

The biggest story of the race was how aggressive Jim Walmsley ran, despite the blistering heat. It was an impressive run to get so far ahead of the course record splits for a long period, but the beauty of a 100 miler is that there's a lot more to deal with than in a shorter ultra. The three favorites (Walmsley, Sage Canaday and David Laney) all had difficulties and it ended up with many of the slower, experienced 100 milers in the top positions, plus relatively slow times for the top 10 in general. The right tactic was to avoid reacting to the fast pace of the leaders, but it takes discipline to stick to a game plan, especially when it looks like someone else is rapidly pulling away. Luckily, the same mentality that helped at Comrades also helped here - I knew I'd not run enough on trails or enough vertical to be particularly fast, so there was less pressure internally to try to move quickly and more focus on saving the legs for the latter miles so my pace wouldn't fall off a cliff. This was painfully brought home to me by four nasty falls in the high country, a personal record compared to one minor fall maximum in the previous WS100s I've run. Basically I was uncoordinated and below par on anything remotely technical. Not much I could have done to fix that, but it did force me to be more conservative, which I should have done earlier on. Again, playing the conditions and the fitness I actually faced would have been better than going for things regardless and wishing I'd been able to train differently and be more agile. But that's an easy one to fix if the next build up is injury-free.

Duncan Canyon at mile 23. A few cuts and bruises from being uncoordinated. Photo: Greg Lanctot. 

Another lesson here - always look out for the markings even when it's the seventh time you're running a race. I got lost soon after Michigan Bluff since I expected the road to go upwards and forgot it goes downwards first. A few minutes of running by someone's house and I had a group of 3 large dogs running with me. They didn't go away for miles and the detour meant that fellow Brit, Paul Giblin, caught me up. The dogs then distracted us when we were looking for the turn to Volcano Canyon and we missed it by half a mile, then doubled back due to a lack of marking meaning we clearly had gone off course.

The next lesson resulted from this - when shit happens, move on quickly and don't dwell on 'could haves' and 'should haves.' It's annoying, but adapt to the new reality. I felt I did that pretty well and tried to avoid bitching to my crew about it since dwelling on negatives doesn't help my mindset or lead to good performance.

Then the final lesson of the day was that it ain't over til the fat lady sings (or John Medinger announces your name as you cross the finish line, at least). Despite only moving at a moderate pace, I was running a good portion of the race for the last 38 miles and the only people I caught were the leaders for most of the day, both of whom were walking - Sage then Jim. Last year it was 100-mile legend, Francois D'Haene, who I caught as he walked it in after getting food poisoning pre-race. If guys of that caliber can have things go wrong but still gut it out then the only excuses I could use for slowing down or stopping involved something like a bone sticking out my shin or an arm hanging by a thread after being ripped off by a cougar. Neither of these scenarios had occurred to sucking up the final miles was the only reasonable way forward. Final result: 16h55m for 6th. Not what I wanted back at the start of the year, but solid and not easy at all so I'm very satisfied. Strava data until the watch ran out of memory are here.

So that was a longer write-up than I'd intended, but I know I'll read this before WS100 next year and this will help me appreciate the fitness I have and the opportunity to line up for my eighth run at the storied event. Three more top 10s to be the first man to get top 10 in his first 10 attempts. But I really want one of them to be a win (or, ideally, three).

Thanks to all the organizers, volunteers, crew and pacers at both these incredible world ultras. Dave Pearse was my legendary local crew (again) at Comrades; Amy Sharman and Rob Tucker crewed expertly at WS100 and Altra's Brian Beckstead got in some pre-Hardrock miles by crawling along with me for the final 22 miles.

Gear (all worked perfectly and will be used in exactly the same way in my next ultra):

Shoes -
Comrades: Altra One 2.5
WS100: Altra Lone Peak 2.5

Nutrition -
Comrades: Clif Bar gels
WS100: Clif Bar gels, Shot Bloks and Organic Energy Food pouches

Hydration/lights -
Comrades: Water and Energy drink pouches along the course (no handheld bottles)
WS100: UltrAspire Isometric pocket bottles and Lumen 600 waist light

Socks -
Comrades: Drymax Max Protection Road Socks
WS100: Drymax Max Protection Trail Socks

Shades -
Comrades: Julbo Venturi with photochromic lenses
WS100: Julbo Venturi with photochromic lenses

Some more photos that capture the beauty and trials of WS100:

Cruising in the middle of the race. Photo: Paul Nelson.

The joyous American River crossing at mile 78. Photo: Gary Wang.

More river crossing fun. Photo: Gary Wang.

Medical tent at the end, having pieces of grit pulled out my arm. Get all the pain out the way on the same day! Photo: Rob Tucker.

3 Ultras, 3 Weekends

Pre-Boston Red Sox game with Clif Bar

Saturday before the marathon includes mile races looped around the finish line. This was the pro women.

It’s Saturday night in Boston, right before Marathon Monday, and I’m sat at a sushi restaurant with Brian Beckstead and Kyle Petrieri. Brian’s at his fourth Boston and has told me he’s running the Boston double, starting early on marathon day to run the course in reverse then run the race as normal. He’s done this every time he’s run Boston. He also co-founded my shoe sponsor, Altra, so he really walks the walk of a passionate ultra runner.

Despite running ultras the previous two weekends and wanting to run a hard, fast marathon, I can’t think of a good reason not to run the double with him. It’s my fifth Boston and it sounds like an interesting opportunity that will make this year stand out from the other Bostons I’ve run.

Fast forward 36 hours and my alarm goes off at 5am on Monday then I remember what I’ve agreed to do and I’m tempted to roll over and get some more sleep, a typical race morning feeling. Yet when I meet up at 5:30am with the five other runners who decided this was a great plan I feel more of a buzz than ever before about seeing the entire Boston course twice.

Those other intrepid (ultra) runners are Nicole Kalogeropoulos (Rocky Raccoon 100 record holder and three-time champ), New Yorkers Stephen England and Keila Merino plus Utah’s Alison Memmott. So we take the obligatory selfie at the Boston finish line in the dark then start running. It takes until the first turn (less than half a mile) before we’re off course, but we soon get back on it and follow the rows of barricades as a guide for the course route.

5:30am at the Boston Marathon finish before starting the double

As the sun rises I find myself running with Nicole, a little ahead of the others. The first few miles are mainly uphill, running Heartbreak Hill in reverse (which makes it harder and longer). Two minor missed turns later and we’re enjoying ourselves but have added on some extra distance and are somehow behind the other guys. Then we catch back up around the half way mark and start seeing more and more people out for the race. At first it’s a few cops then it’s volunteers setting up the aid stations every mile or so. Already tipsy students cheer us at a couple of places, some confused into thinking we’re in the official race at that point, despite no other runners being around, a slow pace and running the wrong direction.

As we approach the final miles a cavalcade of police motorbikes goes by, each representing a different police force in the local area, totaling maybe 20 in formation. Then we see a few military men and women running in full combat fatigues and boots with race numbers. They’re spread out over several miles and it seems there’s some kind of early military start. In the final uphill miles to the start (it’s a big uphill in that direction, meaning a big downhill the other way that gets lost in the adrenaline and huge crowds of runners trying to overtake each other) we see the other early start races. First the wheelchair racers fly by on a downhill, maybe going at 20-30 miles/hour. Next the hand bikes at almost the same speed on a lesser descent. Disabled runners, some with prosthetic limbs and guides, come next and the crowds cheer them on enthusiatically, as we do. These other races are something I see little of in a straight forward run at Boston.

Then the final early start is for the elite women, which we witness about half a mile from the start line, running closely in a pack of around 40. Already this is the most memorable marathon I’ve ever run and I’ve technically not even begun yet. Nicole tells me that she might just come next year to run this reverse Boston and not even bother with the standard marathon too. I know just what she means…although I don’t think I could fly over and not fit in the official event too.

Finally we arrive at the official start from the wrong direction and security guards wave a metal detecting wand over us before letting us pass with an orange wrist band. Security is much tighter since the 2013 bombings, as you’d fully expect. We pose for another group photo and split up into our respective corrals, some starting in later waves. Now I’m back to my usual Boston morning experience, except my legs are a little tired after around four hours of running. Within seconds I see the bunch of ultra runners in corral one, mainly from the Bay Area. It includes Jorge Maravilla with the goal of (soon) running a sub-2:19 marathon to qualify for the Olympics for El Salvador (how amazing would that be!?), Alex Varner, Scott Dunlap and a whole host of SF Running Company guys.

Arrival at the hot start of the Boston Marathon, around 27.5 miles into the run

A few minutes later and the US national anthem is sung, then we’re off. Things are a fair bit faster than the casual run to the start but I’m pleasantly surprised to feel good cruising around a 6:15/mile pace. As always the race has fantastic support and amazing volunteers. If you’ve never run Boston then it’s well worth working towards qualifying for it, even if you’re a die-hard trail runner. After all, all the people mentioned above are mainly trail runners, as am I.

Overall it was an extremely memorable and unique experience which I’ll definitely replicate again in the future. I paced things fairly evenly, losing a little time in the Newton Hills between miles 16 and 21 for a 2:49:42 marathon (here's the Strava data). I was mindful about Scott Jurek’s words at a Clif Bar event the day before about the importance of enjoying the race experience at Boston and taking it all in. So I kept things more relaxed, high fived the crowd a lot and just plain had fun.

Surprisingly I felt fine afterwards and less sore and wobbly than after American River 50 two weeks earlier or even Gorge Waterfalls 50k nine days earlier. My intention before these races was to use them to boost my endurance and really kick start the three month build up to Western States. It looks like it worked perfectly as I’m stronger now plus I’ve had a great time at three classic races so far in April. Two shorter races remain ahead - the Bend Half Marathon this Sunday then Bloomsday 12k the following Sunday. No need to double these distances up and a healthy dose of speed is just what my legs need.

Gorge Waterfalls 50k in Oregon, one of the most beautiful ultras in the world. Photo: Ryan Kaiser.

Congratulations to all the runners over these past three races and I can only imagine the variety of life changing experiences people have had at each. One last thing to mention is that American River was the culmination of the second season of ‘Becoming Ultra’ so I know that two runners in particular had profound days. Krystalore Stegner was coached by Liza Howard in the project to complete her first ultra as well as scoring a Boston qualifier in a build up marathon. Then my client was Janet Patkowa and she went from very little running and a half marathon or two under her belt to back-to-back long run weekends and an epic 12 hours out on the trails to complete her first ultra. Thanks so much to the two girls who put in all the hard work and shared their story publicly, as well as to Liza and the master-mind behind the project, Athlete On Fire’s Scott Jones. The podcasts are available from the whole season, plus a short video will come out soon covering the project. Season Three starts soon and we’ll be searching for candidates in the very near future.

Krystalore finishing American River 50 and showing why she won the Spirit Award for the race.

Janet and Krystalore at the start of their first ultra, pre-dawn

Rocky Raccoon 100 2016 - The Best Way To Spend Super Bowl Weekend

Photo: Jason Bryant

At mile 20 I felt like running was the easiest thing ever and maybe the course record would go down. Five miles later I realized this wouldn’t happen since my legs were already sore, even though my heart rate and effort were low. And so it goes with 100 milers - big highs and crappy lows.

Rocky Raccoon is known for being a flat and fast trail 100 miler, but the normal course still has 5,500ft of vertical gain and lots of roots to trip up unwary or tired legs. This year there was construction work on the dam and that altered the course to include more jeep roads, more climbing (somewhere around 1,500ft per 20-mile loop or 7,500ft in total) and a little more distance (around 0.3 miles/loop or 1.5 miles in total). So there are definitely faster trail 100s out there, but none that have attracted the same level of talent as this Huntsville, Texas, race (Eric Clifton, Anton Krupicka, Hal Koerner, Karl Meltzer and Scott Jurek…just on the men’s side).

I’ve had good and bad years at RR100, which were predictable in hindsight. A DNF for my first ever 100 miler (right after an injury and almost zero running for two months), a course record (I was in great marathon shape), another DNF (too focused on going for the record even with really muddy, stormy conditions), then three more runs in the mid-to-high 13hr range with two of them as wins and a second place.

This one ranks on the predictably imperfect end of the scale. I entered it 12 days pre-race on a whim, after fully planning on focusing on a marathon instead. In the five months pre-race I had one long hike and a handful of long runs, all but one under three hours. However, I was in good shape and had some quality speed work in the past couple of months. So that resulted in 20 miles feeling very easy then the lack of endurance rearing its painful head soon after. After two loops I felt like I’d run four and was hanging on for dear life. Luckily I’ve leant a few things from previous 100s about how to manage things when the original plan is derailed, so I settled into grinding mode and acknowledged that every bad patch (of which there were many more than there should have been) would only last a few miles.

Photo: Jason Bryant

So lesson learnt, only enter short races at the last moment and respect the 100 mile distance. However, the upside of a tough run is it’s that much sweeter afterwards to know that there were many opportunities to quit and I didn’t take them. Some of the most satisfying races of my life have been the harder days where it didn’t go perfectly. In contrast, the course record year at RR100 in 2011 was anti-climactic since it felt ridiculously easy (hence why I don’t slow down). I’ll keep striving to have another perfect day like that but realize that so many factors have to come together that it’s more about managing inevitable problems mid-race than expecting none to occur.

In terms of results, I held on for the win in 13:45:03, followed by Paul Terranova who repeated his USATF 100 mile Championship title win after being first American at RR100 last year too. Even more impressively, Sabrina Little ran in third all day (or with Paul for 25 miles) and finished in 14:55, the second fastest time ever at RR100 on a day that the course added a little time to her run. Mind you, the weather was absolutely perfect for fast times, never hot or humid.

In addition, two legends of ultra running ground out great finishes - Gordy Ainsleigh qualified for Western States 100 at the last chance he had (he automatically has an entry due to being the founder, but still needs a qualifying race); plus 71-year old Gunhild Swanson of the famous 2015 ‘seconds to spare’ WS100 finish was strong for a 28:22 finish.

Gunhild gets her buckle from RD Chris McWatters. Photo: Lynnor Matheney

Gordy after his successful finish. Photo: Lynnor Matheney

Congrats to everyone who ran and the loops and out-and-back sections mean that I saw all of them many times through the day to mutually support each other. Full results are here.

Gear (all worked perfectly and will be used in exactly the same way in my next ultra):

Shoes - Altra Lone Peak 2.5

Nutrition - Clif Bar gels, Shot Bloks and Organic Energy Food pouches

Hydration/lights - UltrAspire Isometric pocket bottles and Lumen 600 waist light

Socks - Drymax Trail 1/4 Crew Socks

Shades - Julbo Venturi with photochromic lenses

HRM - LifeBEAM Smart Hat with inbuilt HRM

Leadville v3

Face-off: Sharman v Aish. Or we're about to kiss. Photo: Nicole Aish

After both crossings of Hope Pass I ran into Twin Lakes (mile 61.5) with my first pacer and fellow Brit, Ryan Smith. Photo: iRunFar/Meghan Hicks

This was my third Leadville Trail 100, a race I first experienced as part of the Grand Slam in 2013. It's certainly not an easy race, but it is a runner's race, while I'd describe events like UTMB or Hardrock 100 as more like mountain-hiking races.

With 15,000ft of vertical gain (and the same loss) it has a lot of really flat sections that are quick, despite the fact the altitude varies between a low of 9,200ft at Twin Lakes and 12,600ft at the top of Hope Pass. There's something fun about mixing up easier running sections with steeper parts and this is also true of the appeal of a race like Western States 100 (18,000ft of gain, 22,000ft of loss), another event that really captures my imagination.

I knew that the main competition would come from former 10,000m and 5,000m Kiwi Olympian, Mike Aish, and I wasn't surprised to run the early miles in the dark with him around Turquoise Lake. The first half marathon to Mayqueen is basically flat and easy so we arrived close to course record pace in 1:42, but were 6 minutes behind Argentinian, Gustavo Reyes, who I've met a couple of times before and who tends to start fast.

Mike's tactics were clearly to 'man-mark' me so every time I hiked at any point up the first climb to Sugarloaf Pass, so did he, and we stuck together chatting away. The sunrise was beautiful and it felt like the perfect start to a race. I suspected we'd run together for most of the race, but at the second aid station at mile 24.5 I jumped in a toilet and he kept going so we got separated. He noticeably accelerated since Gustavo was now 12 mins ahead, while I sat back and keep things pretty relaxed in third. This was basically the theme through to the half-way at Winfield, but the difference was that we had the first ascent of Hope Pass just before the 50-mile turn-around, a 3,400ft climb followed by a sharp 2,400ft descent.

Gustavo and Mike slowed after the high point and I almost caught up to them both by the decent into Winfield, despite getting cramps in both calves for the first time ever in a race. Luckily it didn't seem to be too serious but I had to slow down and stretch both sides a couple of times too. My food and hydration were fine but I was concerned that I had a lot of miles left and cramps could end the race.

Heading up Hope Pass outbound. Photo: Leadville Race Series

On the return leg up Hope Pass I had my first pacer/mule, Ryan Smith, and caught Gustavo by about mile 52 then caught Mike just before the pass summit. I later found out he puked at the top and basically couldn't hold down any food for 4-5 hours, so his energy levels were plummeting. In contrast I was feeling really positive and hammered down the more gradual, but longer, side of the pass straight into the vast majority of the field who were on their first climb up Hope. I always love this section because the entire field is so positive and it's enjoyable to interact and pep them up too. In addition, it's a sweet downhill and is pretty fast.

At this stage I knew it was game on and also knew from the experience of racing Mike last year at Leadville that he's never down and out even if he looks completely spent. So I decided to push and see if I could gap him over the next 20-30 miles to such an extent that his phoenix-like come-backs wouldn't be enough. I was running faster (at altitude) on some of the easy sections than at Rocky Raccoon 100, a race that takes around four hours less time to complete. However, when in the lead you don't get updates regularly about how the chase pack is doing and those updates are always out of date, relying on splits to a previous aid station instead of how the chaser is currently doing. Altra team-mate, Josh Arthur, paced me through mile 61.5 to the final aid station and I hope my grunting, huffing and puffing wasn't too off-putting.

By Outward Bound inbound (mile 75.5) I heard I had a 23 minute lead at the last aid station, so it seemed like the effort was paying off. It needed to, since I was leaving very little in the tank for the final 20 miles. The steep climb up Powerline took me to around mile 82 and I was well ahead of my splits from the previous two years, but wanted to cruise it in since my legs were more fatigued than they usually would be at that stage. Luckily my stomach, head, cramping and energy levels all stayed reasonably OK, although by Mayqueen inbound (mile 86.5) I started to feel dizzy. My final pacer was Dana Kracaw, who lives in Leadville and knows the area and the mountains in extreme detail. I told her I probably couldn't talk much but that it would be a welcome distraction if she wanted to talk. So that section consisted of me sounding like I was giving birth while she told jokes and kept things more light-hearted.

At this stage I knew the race was mine to lose since I had a lead of at least an hour and Mike was dropping farther and farther back and still had stomach problems. He later dropped after Mayqueen and I missed the rivalry from the previous year, but was also happy to avoid the physical and mental stress of having him breathing down my neck.

As dusk fell the sunset looked incredible over the nearby 14er mountains, especially due to the small amount of smoke in the air from west coast fires. It got dark just as we hit the outskirts of Leadville with about a mile to go. That last section along 6th Street is deceptively long (around 3/4 mile) but you can see the finish from quite far away and it doesn't seem to get closer, especially since it's mainly uphill the whole way.

I wasn't running at maximum at this point since I wanted to finish and still be in one piece rather than shaving off a few minutes in the final miles but collapsing in a heap after stopping. It was a relief to cross that line, as it is for every single finisher, but also extremely satisfying to have a race that played out as well as I could have hoped, tactically, and to finish in 16:33. It also felt so good to redeem myself after turning up to Western States in June in the best shape of my life then running much slower that last year (and slower than this Leadville finish, given Western is usually about an hour quicker than Leadville for the top men). I felt fairly certain I was fit and ready for Leadville, but you never really know until you get fairly deep into the race. It'll remain one of my favorite memories from my races and it made me hungry for more Leadville action next year, especially since I really want to run it faster.

Relief! Photo: iRunFar/Meghan Hicks

Here's the Strava data for the race, plus the full set of results and iRunFar's write-up and my post-race interview with Meghan Hicks. Congratulations to all who finished and all who attempted it, especially my co-worker, Liza Howard, who got her second win at Leadville and her first sub 20-hr finish in 19:34. That altitude really screws people up but it adds a challenge that makes the race special. It also helps that every trip to the race gives an excuse to play on the local 14er mountains in advance (but not TOO much).

Thanks for all the support and messages before and after the race, to my kick-ass pacing crew of Dana, Ryan and Josh, and to everyone who organized or volunteered at the race.

Gear:

Shoes - Altra Lone Peak 2.5 with Altra gaiters
Socks - Drymax Maximum Protection Trail socks
Hydration - multiple UltrApire Isomeric Pocket 20oz handhelds
Food - Clif Bar gels (around 15), Shot Bloks (around five packs), Organic Energy Food (around six sachets and an assortment of stuff from the aid stations
Headgear - LifeBeam heart rate monitor Smart Hat
Shades - Julbo Venturi with Zebra lenses

Western States 100 2015 - Crazy As Ever

Top of the first climb. Photo: Matt Trappe

Every year I've lived in the US I've been lucky enough to run Western States 100 from Squaw Valley to Auburn. It's the most famous US ultra and the one that means the most to people in general. That also applies to me and I want to keep going back to it many more times to get at least 10 finishes.

Why does it mean so much?

I think it's a combination of several factors:

1. The history - it's the original 100-miler that started the entire concept in the '70s.
2. The variation of the terrain - mountains, canyons, a run to the river then gentler trails to Auburn.
3. The competition - it's certainly the most competitive 100 in the US and I'd argue it's more competitive than any other US ultra due to the fact every single competitor treats it as an 'A' race and it's mid-season instead of at the end when many runners are tired. I think this year's event is probably a deeper field than UTMB, despite a smaller number of racers.
4. It's damned hard - the course is very runnable, meaning there's less chance to have any kind of break, even the hiking has to be at a really fast pace and time can't be wasted at aid stations at all. The extreme heat also makes it very interesting and hugely affects the race dynamics.

Pre-race briefing with the introduction of some of the elites. Jesse Haynes next to me, who unfortunately had to drop. Photo: Matt Trappe

It also means a lot to me personally because it's like a big reunion every year. Many friends from around the world and US turn up and I sometimes only see them this one time per year to catch up away from the virtual world.

Thursday before the race - group photo at the top of Emigrant's Pass. Photo: Ian Sharman

Hike/jog with Magda a week before the race on Mt Rose. Photo: Ian Sharman

Race report:

It was very warm at the start, despite the 5am time and 6,200ft altitude. The classic initial climb up to the Escarpment was very pleasant and I was with Brett Rivers and Chris Denucci for much of it, chatting about the fast pace ahead of us. We crested the four miles in 48 mins, around four mins off the leaders, but at least a minute quicker than I've done it in previous years (yet it felt more relaxed). For once I didn't zoom downhill and tried to cruise and keep things easy. For the first time I had a Heart Rate Monitor to keep myself from going too hard (a LifeBeam hat-based HRM which was way more comfy than a strap, hence why I had this option for the first time). However, my HR was surprisingly high for the comfy effort, probably related to the altitude.

Duncan Canyon aid station with Quicksilver RC (my club) at mile 23. Photo: Jeff Clowers

The lead pack was about 15 deep and once I caught the back of it I held back to avoid running their race and instead focus on my own plan. So far, so good - a decent pace and nothing feeling too tough. Then through the mountains I kept things chilled and ended up getting to Robinson Flat at mile 29.7 in 4:42, a few mins slower than 2014 and 13 mins off the lead. I was in 16th just before the aid station then 11th as I left it, partly due to drops from the super speedy Ryan Bak and Alex Varner. I expected those guys to run fast and was disappointed they wouldn't get a chance to see what they could achieve. This was the first chance to see Amy and she crewed expertly to hand over new food, drink and headgear.

Things were certainly heating up, but didn't feel bad yet and I was very positive about the outlook of the race. Then I had the first of several emergency pit-stops by the trail, a sign that I maybe had a minor bug from food the day before or even from earlier in the race. Luckily that didn't get much worse and had a minimal effect on the day.

Then the long downhill section starts, which always feels great at first but tends to coincide with a low patch most years for me around 35-40 miles. I was running around David Laney, who looked comfy too. So we chatted briefly but he was going uphill faster while I moved downhill quicker. Given it was mainly downhill I ended up staying ahead through the steep canyon and up Devil's Thumb - the steepest, sharpest climb of the day.

DBo was sat in a chair in the burning heat at the aid station and his day ended soon afterwards unfortunately. Yet another favorite was out and the brutal course claimed another victim, a recurring theme on a day when only 253 people finished (compared to 277 at the extremely hot 2013 race). I was very tempted to join him in a seat but kept moving.

Somewhere in the first half. Photo: Matt Trappe

The next section through two more canyons was hot and felt a little tougher than usual so by Foresthill at mile 62 I was mainly focused on survival rather than racing hard down to the river. I used ice at every single aid station from mile 23 onwards, putting it in my bandana and filling one of my water bottles completely with ice then topping up with water so I could keep pouring it over my head, neck and body throughout the next few miles. Most aid stations were around an hour apart and the ice always fully melted within 20-30 mins. However, I can only imagine that's harder to deal with for runners farther back in the field since their ice would last for a shorter proportion of the time they're out in the sun.

Matt Laye joined me for pacing and it was a fairly slow pace for the next 16 miles as I felt gradually more and more sorry for myself. My energy was low, legs were tired and things felt generally worse than the last few years at WS. I seriously considered dropping, but reminded myself that so many people want to run this race and I have the chance to keep going with no valid reason to stop other than I felt bad. I wasn't injured, I wasn't even walking, plus I was in the top 10 (8th at this point) and REALLY wanted to continue that streak for another year to make it six in a row. In fact that was the main motivation I clung on to.

Just after picking up my pacer, Matt Laye, at Foresthill. Photo: Stephen Ingalls

In long ultras it's vitally important to know why you want to finish and to have extremely good reasons why you'll push rather than fade, why you'll still care about the race when you feel like death. In general, a couple of good reasons for me to keep trying are that moving faster means the suffering ends sooner and that if I give less than my best I'll have to live with it for months or even years. It's a character test - are you as tough as you'd like to believe?

The river was heavenly since I was falling apart mentally and was extremely hot. It took me five minutes to cross from one side to the other since I lay there with just my face above the water multiple times to cool down. For the first time all day I was a little cold...but after about two minutes of hiking up the other side I was hot again. One year I'd like to stay there for ages and just hang out before moving on.

The river crossing. Could have stayed there hours. Photo: Matt Trappe

This is how most of the river crossing went. Photo: iRunFar

Matt was feeling the heat too and I was mainly silent, but he also wasn't talking much through the fast, flatter single-track from miles 80-90. We passed Francois d'Haene with his pacer, Frosty, just before Hall Koerner's Oregon-manned aid station at Brown's Bar (mile 89.9) and he was walking, looking demoralized and lifeless. I shouted encouragement and told them the next aid was virtually around the corner, but he'd dropped from the lead at halfway to 8th after I passed him and clearly was having a bad day.

Matt mentioned he had some vertigo at this point from getting water in his ears in the river, plus the heat was affecting him. He hadn't done heat training and after running a marathon in those temperatures he was fading. So just before the climb up to Highway 49 (mile 93.5) he slowed and walked it in while I kept chugging along at steady ultra shuffle.

By this stage the proximity of the finish is motivation enough and I was able to rally enough to keep pushing, albeit at a slower pace than previous years. I hadn't planned on needing a headlamp but did include it in my crew bag so Amy passed me that so I'd be able to see the final miles. I turned it on around mile 95 on the run downhill in the trees towards No Hands Bridge, now secure that I'd end up top 10 but not sure if anyone right behind was surging or if someone ahead was fading.

I've never enjoyed the final 20 miles of the race since it takes such a huge effort to avoid slowing, but at least this time I knew it'd feel especially good to finish because I'd come so close to giving up multiple times. I was paranoid that someone would catch me and I'd have to sprint to the end, but luckily I had enough of a gap behind me that I was able to finish the final couple of miles at a more relaxed pace without really digging in - at that point saving a couple of minutes didn't make much difference and there was nobody ahead within the next 10 mins or so who I had any realistic chance of getting close to.

Done and done. Photo: Matt Trappe

Ultra Running Magazine's Erika Lindland was the smiliest person of the day and ran herself into 9th to earn another entry for next year. Photo: apologies, I'm not sure where I got this but it epitomized the event

Unlike previous years where I sprinted around the track, this time I jogged and gave high fives to kids. The finish line couldn't come soon enough but another epic day on the trails was over. It was an hour slower than last year, yet I got 7th in 16:44. At this rate it's technically feasible to do 10 races with 10 different top 10 places - so far I've got 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th and 10th...so mainly the podium left to aim for :)

Before the race I knew it'd be a really memorable day for many reasons. My own race is one small part of the overall story and there are hundreds of people who overcame incredible challenges through the 30 hours of the entire event. Rob Krar's 14:48 was frankly superhuman in that heat and with the pressure of being the defending champ. Gunhild Swanson's finish with six seconds to spare under the cut-off was incredible too, especially since she's 70 years old!

Tim Twietmeyer cheers for Gunhild Swanson as she finishes and the crowd goes wild. Photo: Ian Sharman

However, my favorite memory comes from seeing Magda Boulet win her debut 100-miler, despite going two miles off course in the first half. I've really enjoyed coaching her and getting to know her over the past six months - a real star of the running world, an Olympian and a super fun person to call my friend. Seeing her cross the line was fantastic after dominating her ultra races for the past seven months (six straight wins!). I had five other clients running too, so seeing them afterwards was very rewarding, despite one of them not having a good day and having to drop due to the heat.

High Fiving Magda at the finish. Photo: Nate Dunn

I'm tired now, but with each day that passes I get progressively happier with how the race went. Perfect days in 100-milers are rare and I know I can learn more from the imperfect ones, especially when I aim to make the best of it. My fitness was higher than ever before pre-race so I'm just a little disappointed I couldn't improve on last year's time or position, but I got to run Western States and I also get to do it again. Full results here. Plus my incomplete Strava data before the watch died.

The memories of pain fade and the shiny silver buckle remains. Thanks everyone at the race, the volunteers, organizers, runners and supporters.

Gear:

Shoes - Altra Lone Peak 2.5
Socks - Drymax Maximum Protection Trail
Eyewear - Julbo Venturi
Nutrition - mainly a mix of Clif Bar Organic Energy Food pouches, gels and Shot Bloks
HRM - LifeBeam smart hat
Hydration - UltrAspire Isometric handhelds and Alpha pack
Keeping the ice cool for my crew (Amy) - Hydro Flask 64oz growlers

Rocky Raccoon 100 USATF National Championship 2015

Mid-race. Photo: Scott Dunlap.

I've lived in the US for five years now and only missed one Rocky Raccoon 100 in that time. There's something really fun about having a big winter target while most runners I know are just starting to build back up to get fit for Spring.

Why do I keep going back? Well, it feels like it's one of the classics of ultrarunning and is one of the older 100s (this was the 23rd year) with many outstanding performances over the years and a lot of top level runners have given it a shot. The five 20-mile loops also allow for a lot of social interaction with out-and-back sections and less loneliness and solo running than on point-to-point courses. It always feels like a big social catch-up too, like the way I ran much of lap one with Liza Howard (one of the coaches at Sharman Ultra and a two-time winner - here's her very amusing race report on getting 2nd place) and James Elson (RD of Centurion Running in the UK and a good friend - here's his race report from running a sub 15hr race this year). It's also impeccably organized by Joe and Joyce Prusaitis plus their team.

Undoubtedly RR100 is a fast course, but it still has small rolling hills throughout and has significantly slower terrain than flat road or track running, especially during the night sections. That potential to run a quick time draws in a lot of runners aiming for a PR (myself included) and a lot of first-time 100-milers, but it can also be deceptive and cause runners to forget some of the basics of ultra pacing and instead aim for fast splits no matter what.

I had high hopes of running well and hopefully having a shot at my 2011 course record of 12:44, but knew that I couldn't really gauge that until maybe 30-40 miles into the race. After a shortened build-up after fracturing my foot back in July on Mt Whitney, I'd lost a lot of fitness before restarting walking at the end of October. However, I felt fit and the foot seemed to have healed, allowing me to run approx 300 miles/month for December and January, including some decent speed work by late December.

The Race

Starting in the dark for the first hour of running, the weather wasn't too cold and it remained very pleasant all day, between about 43 F and maybe 60 F, but without last year's humidity. Frankly it was perfect weather for speedsters. However, I was surprised at the end of the first 20-mile loop to find I was 12 mins back from the leader who set a lap record of 2:19 to my 2:31 (the CR split was 2:29) and I was in about 8th, just ahead of the first two women.

It didn't worry me since I was running at a fairly comfy pace and I know the last two laps are the ones that count and that small differences in early laps make little difference overall. That next loop was gradually harder and I could tell I didn't quite have the endurance I'd hoped for. I hadn't run too fast early on, I just hadn't had enough time to build up my endurance. So there's only one sensible thing to do that early in the race - adjust the pace and focus 100% on looking after my body and making things sustainable.

Lap two was marginally slower in 2:34 so I was happy it wasn't too much worse despite making things easier for myself. Things got fairly bad in lap three and my stride was shortened, I felt tight and I had to concentrate hard to stop myself focusing on negative thoughts like how slow the last loop could end up being. I was extremely tempted to drop, cut my losses and continue working on my fitness for the rest of the season. The one thing that stopped me was that I wasn't injured and was moving forward fine, it was just harder and slower than it should have been. That's not a good enough reason.

Lap three dropped to a 2:49, making sub-14 hours less likely if the slow-down continued, although the early leader had dropped by this point and I wasn't far from the podium, now in 4th. I made sure I ate more (especially the new savory Clif Bar Organic Energy Food pouches, which I used at WS100 and Leadville last year too) during that loop and near the end I started to feel a little more normal. Then the wind was knocked out my sails when I saw several runners right behind me at the turn around, including female leader Nicole Studer. They all looked better than I felt, but that's fairly meaningless since some runners look great when they're struggling and others look like the walking dead when they're actually cruising.

Mentally I switched gear after that third loop and starting thinking about how mile 60 was the start of the real race, the important part that separates the runners at the front. I'd not pushed too hard to this point and had spent 20 miles trying to sort out things, so it started to pay off. Paul Terranova caught me a couple of miles into the loop and we ran together with his pacer and chatted. Back in 2011 he'd paced me on loop 4 for a 2:35 loop, so the quirkiness of having him there to 'pace' me again at the same stage felt like a good change and a nice mental boost. Half way through the loop I started feeling genuinely good and gradually pulled away from Paul, catching 3rd and 2nd over the next 10 miles and getting to within two minutes of the leader since about halfway, Marco Bonfiglio from Italy, a winner of numerous 100-milers in Europe and 4th at last year's Spartathlon.

Marco had looked great all day but he was around 12 mins ahead at mile 60 so the two min gap was very encouraging for me. Lap four was an improvement on lap three, in 2:46, but the more important factor was that I was running freely and felt like a new man. The uphills were easy when I'd had to hike some of them on lap three. I had no doubt I'd catch Marco and I did so after about four miles, making sure I passed strongly to get out of sight within a couple of minutes. Now the adrenaline was flowing and I knew it was completely within my control whether I won or not.

As the light faded I sped up, knowing the dark would force slower running with the roots and occasional bumpy terrain. I turned my headlamp on around mile 91 and kept pushing to avoid any chance of getting caught. That's a lot easier to do when you're in the lead and have a bigger incentive to push, plus I felt much stronger than 50 miles earlier. It looked like the tortoise's slow and steady tactics were going to pay off. Those final miles were surprisingly comfortable, although I fell twice more in the dark (total for the day was four full-on trips). So the final loop was 2:50 for a finish of 13:32, 48 mins off the record but still respectable for a winning time.

Nobody else broke 3:15 on that last loop, reaffirming my belief that to really race a competitive 100-miler well, it's mainly about getting to the latter stages in good shape then being able to hammer it to the finish. Just in 2014 there were two perfect examples of this - look at Kilian's last 25 miles at Hardrock 100 or Rob Krar's push from mile 62 at Western States 100. Those guys weren't leading in the first half of those races but dominated at the end.

I feel this was probably the best race of my life, not because of the time or my fitness level, but because I really got the most out of my body and stuck to my tactics throughout, despite being over 30 mins back near halfway. It's certainly the most satisfying and I'm now ecstatic that I didn't give into the demons mid-way through and drop out pathetically. It gives me a lot of confidence that with a few more months of training and getting fitter, I can hit the summer races as hard as possible, especially Western States and Leadville. After all, I only ran a little over 750 miles between the injury and the start line so tripling or quadrupling that (over a longer build-up) would help a lot. Frankly, I'm really excited for what 2015 has in store.

One comment I made post-race was that longer ultras are 20% physical and 80% mental. That doesn't mean you don't need to be fit, just that fitness will only get you so far. Grit is important, but that's not the full meaning of the mental side and it also includes the tactics, pacing and ability to plan for and react to issues mid-race.

Results

Here's the Strava data, including HRM data - this was the first time I've worn a HRM for an 100. Note it shows the course is 96 miles due to the constant tree cover and cloudiness. I wore two watches as an experiment to see which was more accurate, my old Garmin 910XT and my new Garmin Fenix 2. It wasn't even close - the 910 worked throughout and kept a better signal while the Fenix 2 dropped signal in the trees frequently and just stopped recording after 58 miles because it couldn't regain the signal.

This is the beautiful trophy for the win (always something unique from Tejas Trails races), plus the coveted sub 24-hr colored silver buckle:

Full results here and the USATF National Champions are Paul Terranova (3rd man, behind a Brit and an Italian who don't count) and Nicole Studer with her new 100-mile trail best of 14:22, taking 23 mins off Traci Falbo's 14:45 last November. Plus loads of photos and a great write-up from Scott Dunlap here.

Also, here's the post-race interview with Ultrasportslive.tv who covered the race superbly:


Thanks and congratulations to everyone involved with organizing the race, the volunteers, the runners themselves and everyone for your kind messages post-race, as well as Mark Kenney for crewing me. Also, I always know I can count on the following companies to provide me with what I need at races:

Altra - Lone Peak 2.0s which meant I didn't even feel the tiniest pressure on my healed stress fracture
Julbo - new Venturi shades with ventilation
Drymax - Maximum Protection Trail socks (the only model of sock I've used for the past four years of trail races)
Clif Bar - more gels than I can count, plus Shot Bloks and the new Organic Energy Food pouches
UltrAspire - Isomeric 8oz handhelds
UVU - comfiest T-shirt available