My first "race" since the Cascade Crest 100 last August...I've been running but haven't raced anything since then.  With this race being the only race I've ever dropped from I didn't want to miss it and going into it I felt really strong, fast and ready to "race" a 50K versus simply finishing through a dismal last ten miles suffering to the end.  Jay had me convinced to shoot for a 4:30 finish despite never beating 5:36 in a dozen previous 50k's...so that's what we went for.

Three ten mile laps make up the course with a steep out and back on each one totaling 4,300 feet of climbing total.  We shot for a goal of 90 minutes per lap and after one lap we were 3 minutes ahead of pace.  Wearing the Minimus 110's for the first time for a run over 20 miles (see:  stupid) the second lap was less fun and my feet really started to feel the pounding after 15 miles.  Luckily I had my La Sportiva C-Lite 2.0's ready at the start of lap 3 and I told Jay to go ahead as I changed my shoes.  I was still on pace going into lap 3 but running solo I struggled to maintain a 8 minute mile pace and was soon passed by Paulette (this is the last time she passes me I swear...ok, I can't back that up.  She's fast) and then Chris Fall from Tucson.  Getting passed when you're feeling down always sucks, drags you down but at the same time brings me back from feeling like garbage because I got so pissed Chris passed me I picked it up going into the last climb.  My feet and calves were trashed from the 110's (extremely regrettable choice) going down the last two hills but I got a boost seeing Jay and the others on both the out and backs and knew that I was assured at least my place in the top ten and finished the mile strong, albeit cramping so bad I nearly collapsed at the finish.  

In the end I finished in 4:54, a personal best in the 50K by 42 full minutes.  I guess I could be disappointed by missing my "goal" by 24 and really struggling the last lap but it's still a good improvement and gives me at least an idea of where I stood and stand before Mesquite Canyon.  

The event itself was a lot of fun, much more fun than last year when I was sick.  I really like the course itself and realize more and more how much I love out and back courses and seeing other racers on the course while you are running.  Often, especially on one big loop courses, you see the same 3-10 runners the entire race as you all switch positions.  With a course like San Tan I saw every single person (almost) the first couple laps and knowing many of them it made it so fun to cheer each on and hear them cheer us on.  I don't think I will miss this race again, it's a classic to me.  

It was also fun to meet Jerry Armstrong from Boulder, CO who contacted me on Dailymile.com and asked for a ride to the race.  I picked him up and got to hang with him pre-race and he went on to run really strong and capture 3rd place as he passed Jay & I on lap 2.  Great runner, puts out some cool video's and always fun meeting fellow runners from other areas.  He wrote a great race report on is blog here:  http://www.jerryarmstrong.blogspot.com/2012/02/san-tan-scramble-50k-race-report.html 

I was really excited for this one.  Four times I've been down in the Grand Canyon, all four times running or hiking the R2R2R trails.  While that is an incredible trip each and every time I was excited to see a different part of the Canyon.  I had this opportunity when a few WMRC members invited me along for a 30 mile route that was to take about 10 hours...I didn't need to hear another word.  I was in.  

Andrew Heard, Art Bourque and John Pearce started out with me on the Tanner Trail head on the eastern edge of the Canyon.  The trail was steep, icy and covered in snow at the top and it switch backed its way all the way down until the Colorado River came into view.  Writing about the Grand Canyon is hard for me, it takes someone with real writing talent to be able to fully encapsulate what really "is" a run in the Canyon.  The walls pull you in, the Canyon goes from narrow and claustrophobic to massive and belittling.  You lose control of what you previously thought you had control of.  You become a part of it.  

Art lead us along the Escalante Trail all morning, dipping down to the Colorado to refill bottles, then seemingly back halfway up the Rim towards what for miles looks like a dead end straight into the walls of the cliffs.  Running along the ridge, the Colorado a thousand feet straight below, you look up ahead trying to see where the trail possible could be going.  Not until you reach the cliff wall do you realize that it does in fact scale the cliff all along its edge, precariously close to the edge, drawing up the details of your life insurance policy you hope to God you kept paying.    

Boucher Point starts the downhill towards the Colorado one more time before entering Seventy Five Mile Canyon.  Art describes a story when he was 33 and on this route alone, in 105 degrees, and completely lost.  Having already passed a dozen spider trails off into the unknown, unmarked, I can see how easily someone can be led astray.  Art takes us up the canyon and right away we climb above what becomes this majestic canyon, twenty feet wide but fifty feet tall, taller with each step deeper up the canyon.  Art purposely leads us up the trail past the real turnoff, a scree trail down into the depths of the slot canyon, nothing remotely resembling a trail but more of an avalanche zone.  No human rightly would have left a worn path for that.  Nobody.

Art leads us down the precipice, down climbing our way down the hundred feet to the canyon bottom, an ant among the giant walls.  Running down this dry riverbed, the walls tight around us, hovering high above us.  It was like nothing I'd seen before and it would only truly be the beginning.  

The trail continued it's steep ascents and descents, rock climbs up Fifty Foot wall, passed along the Colorado several more times providing for ice cold foot baths along the way.  Continually the trail would wander random directions, running in random directions to go in the direction we needed to travel.  We took the Grandview Trail out of the Canyon that day, a 4,000+ foot climb up the Rim that went on for a couple runnable miles before turning into a staircase leading straight up the chute, a leg burning, energy sapping assault on some of the steepest, most aggressive trails I've experienced.  Art hammered the climb like it was his last climb of his life, absolutely crushing Andrew and I, leaving me sapped for the last three miles and 3,000 feet of climbing.  Up to that point I felt great, strong and capable.  That quickly turned into weak, wobbly, possibly the next victim in a Grand Canyon fall to his death.  The trail narrowed, the elevation climbed and in turn the terrain became ice, snow and rocks covered with ice and snow.  Climbing up the pace went from a reasonable 20min/mile to the dreaded 30min/mile to a few minutes later...58.  Never...I'm using the word "never" here...have I ever wanted to just plain sit.  Sit down.  In the snow.  And just lay there.  My legs didn't hurt.  My feet were fine.  Everything was fine.  There was simply nothing left in the tank.  I was so tired, the trail so slick with ice, every imprint of a shoe with Yaktraks on it I wanted to scream.  Wouldn't those be convenient right now...

I've been in this mindset before and never stopped but plodded along until I found a good section of untouched snow.  With Andrew behind me a bit below I knew he would be struggling just as much in this snow with the footing being so slick and wrote, "This Blows!! :)" in the snow.  Just writing it made me laugh thinking of Andrew coming up the trail and seeing that.  I headed up the cliff, found a seat on a tree branch and regrouped.  Put down my last gel, put a long sleeve back on, gloves and hat now that we were back in the upper elevations and waited for Andrew to come on through.  He wasn't far behind and within a couple minutes he was there and we pushed our way to the top where Art was waiting for us with a big smile on his face, standing among the tourists there for a view of the big "Hole in the Ground."

John would come on through about 45 minutes later on his own.  He had taken a wrong trail, back tracked, found the trail but spent a few nerve racking moments working through the fear of being lost in the Canyon.  A veteran of the area he ultimately made it out, with a story, but made it out.  

Two weeks later I'm still thinking about this route, the Canyon and the great time I had with Art, John and Andrew.  It's never just another run up there, it always have me leaving thinking grander thoughts, bigger dreams and totally blown away and waiting for the next adventure there.  

Yes...this is my third 50K in three weekends.  Just the way it panned out on the schedule and I didn't want to skip any of the three.  Grandpa Jim's 50K runs through my backyard, literally, and covers some serious climbing along the way so I wanted to make it, donate some money to the cause and see how it goes.  

I could go into a full on race report here but this post is long enough already isn't it?  I agree.  I'm taking the lazy way out.  So go read Jay Danek's race report, we ran the whole thing together and finished in 6:32 tied for 2nd place.  If there is such a thing as "placing" in a somewhat unofficial race.  Either way I count it and it continues my domination at Fat Ass races that don't count with very few runners in it.  Yeah, I'm really good at those kinds of races.  Borderline elite really.  (see:  1st Place at Tom's Thumb 50K, 5 total entrants.  Still wondering when La Sportiva is going to start sending my free shoes...) 

So in the end...three 50K's in three weekends netted 93 miles, 21,000+ feet of climbing and 21 hours of running.  In between each week I ran a whopping 50 miles in the other 18 days...I'm getting dangerously close to a full sponsorship from WalMart or Wendy's.  It's a battle right now, really just the paperwork that needs to be worked out at this point.  If nothing else I should earn some kind of special shirt for "Laziest Training Program in Ultrarunning."  The week leading into Grandpa Jim's 50K?  Two miles pushing a stroller.  

Eat that Anton.  

Next up...Mesquite Canyon 50k on March 11th.  I'm going for a 4:30, I don't care if that's 66 minutes faster than I've ever done it.  

Limits are for cowards.  

It’s interesting when you think about the concept of running 100 miles.  The act alone is quite significant and one that a lot of people will never even attempt, let alone succeed at.  Possibly the more significant act is actually the training that is necessary to even get to the race.  The time that it takes to sufficiently train for these kinds of events is extensive to say the least and verging on a full on burden.  You have to put the effort in to get in all the running or you will surely suffer come race day.  So to put it in perspective here is a listing of what my training has been the last eight weeks or so. 

69 miles - May 30th-June 5th (long run 48- R2R2R)

29 miles - June 6th-June 12th (long run 9.5)

26 miles - June 13th-June 19th (long run 7.5)

52 miles - June 20th - June 26th (long run 22.5 Kachina/Weatherford Loop)

32 miles - June 27th - July 3rd (13.1 Over & Back Camelback Mtn)

45 miles - July 4th- July 11th (20.1 McDowell>Pemberton Loop)

49 miles - July 12th - July 17th (23 Kachina/Weatherford Loop)

67 miles - July 18th- July 24th (50 Mt. Lemmon 50)

39 miles - July 25th - July 31st (20 Cabin Loop)

              - August 1st - August 7th (Cabin Loop 40 M)

At first glance, I’m a little disappointed in the total numbers.  My weekly mileage is less than what a lot of ultrarunners put in normally and for 50 mile race training programs.  Everyone has different priorites and while I am very dedicated to running, and this race, I’m also very dedicated to having a healthy relationship with my wife.  Taking off for 2-3 hours several times a week, all day on weekends every weekend, takes a very supportive spouse.  Something I’v been very fortunate to have to this point.  With every take there has to be some give and there certainly have been times that I’ve returned from work planning on running an hour or two in the mountains only to scratch it knowing she had a rough day at work and it’s time better spent at home.  I consider those few times my additional “rest days” that maybe even allowed my body to recuperate a little more for the next run.

Knowing that I’ve yet to put in 80 miles in a single week I do know that my long runs have all been quality runs with a lot of climbing and sustained downhills.  My standard 6-8 mile runs in my mountain backyard have all been tough 800-2000 ft climbathons with steep ascents and sharp, dramatic, rough downhills, all runs finishing strong, fast and all out.  My really long runs have been a Rim to Rim to Rim trip in late May that was very successful and I felt strong climbing all day.  I’ve done two trips to high altitude and done 20 plus mile ascents of Mt. Humphries (12,633ft) in Flagstaff, all with elevations ranging no lower than 8,000ft and upwards over 12,000.  I also put in some serious time in the Catalina Mountains in late July with a 50 mile, 11,500 ft of climbing, night run up and down Mt. Lemmon.  This was a 16 hour jaunt through the forests and having started at night (as with the R2R2R) it simulates the fatigue you endure as we all had been awake since early that morning.  By the finish of both those runs we had been awake for over 24 hours, exactly what will happen in a 100 mile race.  As well, it’s excellent headlamp/night training that often people seem to lack.

Many of these runs have been solo runs forcing myself out the door and into some trail system to knock out the time, build the body up and push myself when I don’t want to be pushed.  Many times I have really struggled to pop out of bed at 430am to beat the heat, the timeclock or the schedule of everyday life.  Would I like more hours on the trail?  More long runs, some majestic quest through the mountains that I can draw from later on come race day?  Sure, but I think I already have enough to be able to really pull through when I need it.  I’ve done 4 crossings of the Grand Canyon, two of them over 20 hours which for the sheer experience of time on your feet is extremely valuable.  I have several 50 mile races this year that I can draw from, two of which were over 15 hours and in rugged, unsupported (at least the Supes) and self driven nature.  It’s one thing to race 50 miles, it’s another to head out on your own schedule and knock out the miles when nobody is pushing you from behind.  I think those two experiences will help mentally even without the overall mileage that others may have. 

I hope to put in 70 plus miles this week after a 40 mile run on the Mogollon Rim this weekend followed by another long day in the mountains with a fellow WMRC runner for 3-4 hours.  Those two runs, the second on presumably tired legs, should provide for a great week of training only three weeks away from the big race.

Next week?  Maybe two 4 hour runs back to back in town and the following week only one long run under 20 miles.  I’m a big fan of tapering, and going into a race very fresh.  I hope that’s the case and after a few more big runs I’ll be as ready as i hope to be and proof that you don’t in fact need to log 80-100 miles a week to be successful at completing 100 mile races.  Either that or I’ll be proof otherwise...