Don't go chasing waterfalls (especially in Oregon!)

Being a tale of the Gorge Waterfalls 100K

Moss covered boulders and piles of shale

Scree covered hillsides and boulders to scale

Slick river crossings from burbling springs

Late in a race these are quite vexing things

When the sun sets

When the legs cramp

When I’m feeling bad

I don't pay attention to rocks up ahead

And then I fall on...my ass.

Ok ok, some rocks are OK in my book.

The @&(%*$ing fallen trees on the other hand…

Tl;dr: The Gorge Waterfalls 100K was one of the hardest races, if not the hardest things, that I’ve ever done. It runs the amazing Columbia River Gorge in a rugged, technical out and back just outside of Portland with about 12,000 ft of climbing. I finished in 16:25:21 (yay, C goal!) and I’m happy to report that it didn’t break me! All in all, a good day. But man, those trails are challenging...there was a 25% DNF rate!

https://www.strava.com/activities/536522395

Tired David gives this race one thumb and two handheld water bottles up!

The long version:

Like Strava, I have a metric to quantify suffering during a race. A race’s overall difficulty is all about the integral of suffering, the area under the suffering-time curve. Yes, a marathon is shorter than a 50K but infinitely more miserable (OK, not infinitely) You just have to add up all those infinitestimal time slices where you wish you were somewhere else, then give up and have a beer.

While no one particular thing about the Gorge Waterfalls was especially heinous, overall this was the hardest race I’ve ever done. It didn’t have the raw heat of the Overlook 50 miler. I didn’t bake during it like I did during Cuyamaca loop 2. It didn’t have the soul crushing ascent up Maiden Peak at the Waldo 100K (or the wasps, for that matter) The weather was actually great, the aid stations well stocked, and some portions of the course were runnable. But, as promised, this race was TOUGH.

So why did it take me > 1.5 hours from my next slowest 100K?

1. The most technical terrain I’ve encountered (See above section: rocks). This slowed me down even on the way out (along with, say, 10 minutes for the pictures!) for a 7:22 50K split. On the way back, the dark made this extra challenging and I slowed way down so as to not, you know, fall to my death and have my body washed downriver. Kidding. Mostly.
2. 12,000 feet of climbing meant I was always climbing or descending

Still though, there’s cause for celebration!

1. I ran this solo from start to finish. No pacer, no crew. A first for me on the 100K
2. I didn’t blow up my muscles. I still had the legs on the back half to run some of the runnable portions at a decent speed. Squats and deadlifts are paying off. FORTIFY!
3. Surprisingly, although I was hurting and mood swing-y, at no point did my psyche feel shattered or like I wanted to drop. I think it’s finally toughening up or just getting used to being continually tested (and testy).
4. I finished a race where a full 25% of the starting field DNFed! OUCH!
5. My hydration was spot freaking on the entire day. Rarely will you find someone so happy to be peeing in the woods as me.
6. Likewise, I’ve found a pretty good gear combination. Dual amphipod 20 oz handhelds, a mountain hardwear Fluid race vest (pretty minimal) and Hoka Mafate 4’s. They got it done and I didn’t feel the need to swap out anything during the day.
7. I’m not injured! I’m stiff and sore, of course, but nothing that broke during the day. Awesome!
8. I still have all 10 toenails somehow!

What needs work

1. Consistent mental motivation. Especially near the end, where I’d have long portions of walking. Uphill. In the dark. (See, I’m even feeling sorry for myself again here) A pacer would be amazing (but not allowed in this race)
2. Consistent fuelling. I removed the eGels from my race nutrition plan, thinking they were causing my stomach to go south after about 12 hours. No stomach pains here, no nausea! However, I forgot that I needed to be more on my game taking in calories late in the game. Again, a pacer would have been amazing. But you know what else was amazing? Trader Joe’s Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter cups. (I also think taking in more fat and protein helped prevent muscle breakdown)

Could I have raced faster on Saturday? Perhaps. This was a not an all out, pedal to the metal race for me since I got my ticket to the big dance at Black Canyons only 7 weeks ago. (Translation: I qualified this year for the Western States 100 Lottery at the Black Canyons 100K in February) While I didn’t have high performing finishing time, I sure had myself a good time running those trails

The narrative:

Doris and I flew into Portland on Friday morning. After some excellent Thai food and a visit to the Multanomah Whiskey Library, I was ready to retire to our AirBNB and prepare for an early start.

The gun (ok, James Varner yelling GO) went off at 6 am as planned and we settled in for a fast mile followed by a 1500 ft climb. I won’t bore you with the narrative of exactly what went on for 16 odd hours, but suffice to say there were some great views, some rolling hills, and plenty of rocks. The views were breathtaking and I tried not to stop too much to take pictures. I chatted with some great people and the aid stations 7-9 miles apart were energetic and well stocked. Here are some of the highlights and lowlights from the day

• Peeing on a narrow, well trafficked trail is...challenging. My move was to wait for a trail branching off, then to go “take in the views” behind some trees
• About 13 miles in, I came across an optional stream crossing. The course markings seemed to indicate that we should go across the 5 feet of swiftly flowing but shallow stream, even though a footbridge was only a small detour away. Of course I wanted to ford the stream! Charting out my footing, I boldly strode ahead…and promptly fell on my ass. Thankfully, I landed on my handhelds so all I took away from that was some wet buttcheeks and a rather chagrined look. Also, I drank a bunch of Tailwind before realizing that my impact probably sucked some stream water in. If I get giardia, it’s my own damn fault.
• I got chatting with a newbie 100K runner about 10 miles later and he told me he saw the entire thing. Whoops!
• Running and and back, while requiring constant attention for trail traffic, was really cool. Here are M1 and M2 (go Mocko!)
• 
• 
• The pollen was horrendous. At times, I looked at the sun filtering through the trees and saw a minor snowstorm. There was a gent who basically couldn’t see without his eyedrops and some folks were dropping from allergies. Damn growing things!
• We got to run under a waterfall. It was freaking amazing.
• I was surprised at several miles that were run on or near the road. Running trails was excellent, but being able to hear the traffic from the nearby interstate like, totally harshed my vibe, man.
• As many of you know, I don’t like snakes. There are a LOT of snake shaped roots and branches on this trail. I was doing just fine until I SAW A FREAKING SNAKE AND JUMPED (nearly into the bushes) The dude behind me ran past and just gave me a sidelong glance. It was a garter snake about a foot long. Whoops.
• My Garmin died after only about 15 hours. In one respect, this was a relief and prevented me from checking it every 15 minutes. On the other hand, I was starting to get nervous about the cutoffs and this didn’t help!
• Running on technical terrain in the dark is hugely challenging. I don’t know how people do it. I was managing ok with a combination headlamp and handlamp, but I was still really freaked out at being so close to a slippery slope and fast flowing water on a dark, steep hill.
• One of the doubts looming in my mind at the end of the race was how I’d ever run 38 more miles. Surprisingly, though, in retrospect the GW100K actually gives me confidence. I made some good decisions even when racing on my own. My training and conditioning routine is getting the job done. And my mental state can best be summarized as “bent, but not broken.” So when the time comes, it’s gonna hurt to run through the night...and I can’t wait to see what I can do.

Big thanks to Rainshadow Running for putting on an awesome race and congratulations to Matt and Kristin for earning their WS qualifier on a hard, hard course.

And now, offseason! Gotta get rested to get started training for that hundred miler...

David

Warning, not for the faint of heart

Yo dawg, I heard you like blisters

Black Canyon Ultras 100K: Desert Solitare

“Empty mind, full heart”

It’s funny to hear what your inner voice has to say when your legs are moving and your mind is still.

I don’t know why my psyche starts repeating this mantra (Where’s it from? A teavana sticker? A bit of wisdom from run camp? An echo from a rare yoga class? ) but at the moment it just feels... right.  I’m filled with gratitude. I am deeply thankful for my health, to be racing hard three months after an A race DNS. I’m deeply thankful for the people and relationships in my life. And I’m deeply thankful to find a sport that simultaneously enriches and scares the hell out of me.

“Empty mind, full heart”

I’m the caboose of a conga line winding its way along the narrow paths of a desert canyon. The Arizona sun is brilliant, but not yet blistering, and the landscape stretches in all directions. A flurry of steps is followed by a sudden but inevitable course correction as we barrel down the switchbacks. Cresting even a minor hill makes me giddy and I have to resist the urge to extend airplane arms with mischevous glee. I catch glimpses of the scenery as it flies on by, but I stare intently at the pair of pink gaiters in front of me. I’d imagine good will evaporates rather quickly when you superman into the ever present cactus.

“Empty mind, full heart”

flow. It’s amazing. For me, it’s a feeling of timelessness as the miles just discreetly slip on by. The air tastes crisp and delightful. The sense of motion is exhilarating! But...I know it can’t last. In five hours, I’ll be grimly climbing through the dust with a pack full of melted Advil and a stomach that hunches me over with its strident complaints. In ten hours, I’ll be picking my way through an endless minefield of rocks in the small glow of my headlamp searching for any sign of an aid station. But in ultrarunning, as in life, you take the highs with the lows and just accept that you have to enjoy yourself when you can.

For now, I am satisfied.

https://www.strava.com/activities/494133393

http://aravaiparunning.com/network/blackcanyon/

By the numbers, the Black Canyon Ultras 100K doesn’t look too difficult. It has only relatively mild elevation gain and in fact is net downhill. It’s set in early February so the desert heat is minimized. And there’s plenty of aid stations along the way. Should be an easy Western States qualifying 100K, right?

Turns out, it was anything but easy. But I punched my ticket (yes!!!) and learned some very valuable lessons about the desert (and about humility.) C goal achieved (17 hours for a Western State lottery ticket), unrealistic A (13 hours) and B (14:24, PR) goals reevaluated. I’m counting that as a win. Thank you to Aravaipa for putting on a great, well supported race (and thanks to my mom in her crewing debut)

Ok, let’s shuffle the deck and see what kind of hand life dealt me this time…

1. Solid training block
1. 3 months at 3 weeks on, 1 off https://www.strava.com/athletes/1012972/training/log
2. Peak weeks at mid 70’s, off weeks at mid 50’s, normal weeks around 60
3. 5 days running, 1 day strength, weekday core routine
4. Several back to backs and fatass 50K’s
5. I came in feeling really strong
2. Reasonable amount of time to train
1. 3 months on a decent base is doable!
3. No real illness or injury
1. The only thing hurting from my Rio DNS is my pride. I’m lucky and I work hard.
4. Rookie crew
1. Thanks for coming, mom!
5. No pacer
1. Thanks for the offer, Simo, but I have to learn to rely on myself to deal with my fear of the dark
6. Tried (and true?) nutrition plan
1. Egels, margarita shot blocks, picky bars, Tailwind, and one epic bar. Whew. Supplement with coconut water from my drop bags and with aid station food as necessary.
7. Hot weather
1. High’s in the mid to upper 80’s. At least it’s dry, and at least it’s not as hot as Overlook!

Things are looking up. Easy course, good preparation, this might be PR material!

Alas, it was not to be. I was about 20 minutes off my PR (Cuyamaca 100k) but learned some valuable lessons.

Analysis: I’m experienced enough not to make huge mistakes.I’m a solid mid-packer, but I’ve got plenty of room for improvement.

1. I nailed my hydration. I was peeing frequently with good color, even in the hottest part of the day. Awesome.
2. Heat sours my stomach. I tried Tums and pepto, but still faced a dull ache through much of the latter part of the day. I didn’t eat enough and became calorie deficient, perhaps contributing to
3. A breakdown in mental toughness. I’m happy to say I bent, but never broke...a DNF never crossed my mind. But I definitely was reduced to a sullen, walking heap more than a few times. I did a good job of keeping moving, but I need to figure out how to give myself a good talking to and get myself back into a happier mental state.
4. My legs are in good shape (yes, even my fat knees) Strangely, it’s my back and shoulder which are killing me after the race.
5. Don’t underestimate the course! Elevation isn’t everything. Trail footing and climate can make or break your day
6. Technical trails are challenging. Early in the day (like…<1 hour in) I faceplanted on some relatively clear trail. Thankfully I landed on my handhelds. But as the trail sprouted more and more rocks as the day went on, I grew more and more cautious which slowed me waaaaay down. I must have stubbed my toes no fewer than 30 times, but thankfully I didn’t eat it again. If I could figure out a way to ease that physical and mental burden, I could actually run more of the course. No idea how Sage (Canaday, the overall winner) was able to run about 2X my speed. Incredible.

Tales from the trails

How do I convey 15 hours worth of excitement, drama, and suffering? How do I convey the experience of being simply a body moving through space? Of being a part of the countryside and apart from it? I hoped to do this during the race by live tweeting pictures as often as I could. I’ll stick to that here, with some stream of consciousness commentary.

I came into BCU feeling really solid. No weird gaps in my training, no lingering illnesses, nothing. I was firing on all cylinders. I flew into Phoenix and met my mom, who’d crew me during the race. It was her first time crewing, so she was really excited! Blah blah blah pasta race prep blah blah blah good Italian food etc etc OK race time.

Shameless selfie

Before I knew it, I was lined up on a high school track with Sage Canaday and Hal Koerner and Amy Sproston and Denise Bourossa. Ok, more like WAY BEHIND than “with”, but you get the drift. The temperature was crisp, so I opted for an extra long sleeved layer on top. Jamil started us off around the track and the race was on!

Section 1: Miles 1-15

I feel awesome. Everything’s new and amazing. Hey look, a big cactus! Check out how the rising sun makes the entire horizon gold and purple! The shadows it casts on the hills are breathtaking! I’m holding back in the midpack, but I still feel great.

Ultradork and crew

The terrain at this point is runnable and downhill. Conga lines all around! I catch my toe on a rock about 30 minutes in and down I go. Thankfully, I’m only embarrassed (handhelds are great!) and not injured. After 2 more people eat it around me in quick succession, I realize that the rock heights are hard to judge in the early light. But I’m fresh and nimble and carry on.

Nice dissolve!

Pirate aid station

Section 2: Miles 15-38

Man, it’s hot. Bright, too. And sandy. Is that more cactus? There’s no shade. Those upcoming hills look fun. Did my advil actually melt in my bag? Yes. That’s crazy. Keep on top of those fluids and pound those coconut waters at the aid stations. Hey, I have to pee. I’m awesome at hydration. Maybe not so good at keeping pace, but awesome at hydration.

It’s a party at the aid station! So festive.

I think I’m eating. And sweating.

This fella blew past us and mumbled “gracias.” Check out those running sandals! That single screw top soda bottle! BadAss. Would it be presumptuous to think he’s a Tarahumara?

This was what the rest of the day would look like. Rocks, rocks everywhere.

Crossing the Agua Fria “river”

Hope I don’t end up like this by the end of the day

Gangnam style cactus

A little obstacle course racing mixed in. Metal bars? Check. Balancing required.? Check. Barbed wire? Check. Sadly, I didn’t notice the gate on the right until waaaaaay too late in the race.

Section 3: Miles 38-50

And here’s the part where I had to run an extra 0.5 miles to the car since my spare headlamp fell out of my bag. Womp, womp.

They said that there’s a 9 mile exposed climb coming up. I learned my lesson at Overlook...I’m hauling up 2.5 liters of ice and water. I have a feeling I might need it.

Ow. My stomach hurts. What are all these damn rocks doing in the trail? I have to walk some downhills and powerhike the uphills. At least there’s some light cloud cover. That’s a huge bonus. But if I don’t keep taking in calories and liquid, I’m toast.

Then, when I needed it most, a big ole bowl of ramen noodles. AID STATIONS ARE THE BEST.

No stepping stones, time to just wade through.

This cactus wants a hug!

These guys rock. Ramen saved my ass and likely my race. Gotta remember that for the longer races.

Finally, some shade!

Section 4: Miles 51-62

“Only” 12 miles left.

Equals far too many hours of this.

It’s dark. I can’t run. I can’t see. At least it’s cool. And there’s no bugs! But I’m getting REAL tired of picking my way through these technical trails. Wasn’t the aid station supposed to be here by now? Am I lost? Is that a snake??? (no, just a root) Hey, this section seems runnable!!! I can push it for….half a mile. Damn. Maybe I can try to run harder on the technical sections and...CRAP I stubbed my toe. Where is everybody? Where’s the aid station? Do aid stations even exist?

I’m trying to hook onto these trains of runners, but every time I try to hang on, they seem to effortlessly pull away. Whatever. Head down, time to grind, oh thank god, it’s the finish line, 10 min/mile “sprint”!!! 14:43:34

So with all that kvetching about suffering, how’d I actually do? Well, despite my pre race braggadacio (because of?) I ran my slowest 100K. I wouldn’t say it was harder than Waldo (14:24) but it was definitely NOT as straightforward or as easy as I hoped it would be. It was a lot more similar to Cuyamaca (14:35) but it amazes me that all three races were in the same ballpark.

And now, the $64,000 question: did I go out too fast?

My splits actually seem reasonable, and my place in the pack didn’t fluctuate too much. I gunned it between miles 20-40 evidently, but didn’t lose too much between 40 and 50. I even picked up a few places by the time I hit the end. So no, I didn’t do anything *too* stupid. I even wonder if the results would be much different if I had gone out more conservatively.

Gear:

Gear was great. A bit overkill, but nothing I would change going back.

Amphipod 20 oz X 2

Nathan HPL 20 (used more like a vest + a hydration bladder on the 9 mile climb)

Hoka One One Mafate 4

Pearl Izumi sun sleeves (a lifesaver in the heat. Maybe literally)

Nutrition and hydration:

Tailwind & water in handhelds

1 L of coconut water approximately every 15 miles

EGel cherry bomb gels

Margarita shot blocks

Picky bars (Sunflower)

1 epic bar (bison)

S-Caps as needed

Aid station food to taste.

What would I have done differently? Not a whole lot. I mean, I was carrying a large margin of water, but that was almost a necessity if things suddenly went pear shaped. My gear was fine and I nailed my hydration. I felt well trained and was frustrated since I had the legs to run, but not the skills to navigate technical trails in that state. Nutrition will need some tweaking to prevent stomach pains from late in the race (anyone have suggestions? I’m pretty much fine in 50 miles and then start hurting near the end of the 100K’s. I might try cutting out gels entirely for Gorge 100K). Mental toughness needs work, too. When I get into a black mood, I need to be able to pull myself out. Even without a pacer, I need to get outside my ball of negativity and give myself a swift kick in the ass. I also need to figure out how to run quickly on technical trails. Food for thought.

Closing thoughts:

I loved this piece from URP about imposter syndrome. I’ll be satisfied once I earn my buckle. Honest. :-)

http://boulderrunning.com/journal-stories/imposter-poser-or-a-real-runner/

I also loved this podcast during the race. Matt talks about perceived effort being mental. It helped me power through those hills.

http://ultrarunnerpodcast.com/matt-fitzgerald-how-bad-do-you-want-it-interview/

Next is recovery, than Gorge Waterfalls 100K on April 2.

And now for a well deserved treat.

Happy trails!

David