So as you can imagine, if I am on a roll towards my perceived flawless execution, and a large scale snafu pops up to derail me, it's hard to let go. I can get past blowing my grocery shopping goal time because I ran into an old friend and we stood yapping about everything under the sun for 12 minutes while blocking the granola bar section from countless shoppers. No big deal. But when a road block pops up in training for a big race - that lingers. Apparently for years.
In my last post I eluded to the fact that I have finally set my sights on my next milestone race. It is the one race goal of mine that didn't come to fruition, because of a hard headed mistake I made in training. My drive to stick to my mental plan was my detriment back in 2009. Let me briefly give you the back story.
In 2008 I recognized that fact that I loved running on trails better than anything else. They challenged me, they renewed me, and they were often times unpredictable and difficult. Anyone who knows me knows that I love the unpredictable and difficult. I had done a fair amount of large scale road races at typical distances and was ready for a new challenge, so I set my sights on my first ultra marathon. A 50K trail run in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin, that was scheduled to take place in April of 2009. True to form, I did my research, to read up on the course, and I created a training plan to follow that would include lots of long runs, hill work, and running in the worst of conditions so I was ready. I even went as far as to train while always carrying a phone or iPod capable of taking a picture to document this journey from the beginning to the peak of my training.
It was the day before my last long run (22 miles) and I was headed up to Chippewa Falls. I wanted my last long run before my taper to be on the actual course so I knew what to expect come race day, three weeks later. I stayed at the hotel I planned on staying in the night before the race, I even ate dinner at the Italian restaurant I wanted to carb load at three short weeks later. I ordered the exact meal I planned on having on race eve. The next morning I was suited up and out of the hotel at the same time I'd have to leave to reach the starting line in time. And then I saw it. It had snowed. The forecast showed a possibility for a few light overnight showers, and instead I walked outside to see 2 inches of fresh snow clinging to everything around me. Including my car I didn't even have a scraper for. I did my best to scrape off the windows with my drivers license all the while swearing under my breath. 'F***ing snow, trying to mess up my last long run. D*** it. I'm running these 22 miles at 7am no matter what. I can't control the weather and it's sure as hell not going to control me.' Are you starting to see how stubborn I can be?
I drove to the park and was honestly amazed at how beautiful it was. Snow clung to every branch, and every mail box. This is literally a picture from the drive that morning on the way to start my run.
I didn't have my YakTrax with me but decided that slowing down my usual pace would be enough of an adjustment to deal with the extra snow on the trails. I did the loop in the prairie area first which didn't prove to be too difficult, and then made my way into the woods where I was met with many quick elevation changes and more technical footing than I had anticipated. Early on my quadriceps burned because I was picking my feet up higher than normal because of the snow, but I prided myself on being tough and not letting a little bit of mother nature deter my plans.
After only a few miles the trail lead to an overlook that gave me an amazing view of a lake with fresh animal tracks dotting the edges. It looked like heaven to me, and I embraced the solitude. This was an out and back course so I had no worries about getting lost, my food supply was holding up nicely, and since I was the only person out there I sang aloud to myself when the mood stuck without a trace of embarrassment. And then it started. It warmed up just a little bit, enough to make the bottom of the snow slippery on all the dead leaves that had been sitting there since fall. The trail got narrower, and instead of just going up and down, it would tip to the left or right. I began sliding regularly to either side. Once even falling and starting to slip down the side of a ravine. I kept my hard headed attitude on and plowed forward. I was only 4 miles from my turn around point.
Half a mile later I noticed the start of a nagging pain on the outside of my right leg. Through my years of running I knew that was the area that housed my IT band. I tried to run more carefully and anticipate areas that may slide more than others, but mother nature was having fun making me slide, trip, and stumble. Repeatedly. These falters upset my regular running rhythm to the point that I was running angry. I just wanted to reach the turn around and get the hell out of there.
Finally I reached my 11 mile marker and could turn around. But not without snapping a quick photo of me with my best attempt at a smile.
I ate a gel, gently stretched out my legs, mentally regrouped as much as I could, and then was headed back the way I came. 5 minutes into my 11 mile journey back to the car I felt it. A sharp, burning pain quickly make its way up the outside of my right leg. It came on so suddenly that I yelped out loud. I shook it off and continued forward, and another couple minutes later it happened again. This happened every 2 to 3 minutes for the next 20 or so before it began to radiate all the way up the outside of my leg, through the back of my hip, and settle into my lower back. I couldn't believe it. It was so painful that it took my breath away and was causing my leg to lock up.
I had an emergency Red Bull in my pack, along with my cell phone and some Cheez Its. I stopped and slammed the Red Bull, called a good friend, and began walking and talking while munching on my Cheez Its. My friend told me to take my time and listen to my body - I would make it to the car eventually, and to call him when I got there. I calmly put my phone in my pack and did an assessment of my situation. I could barely bend my right knee, so running any of the remaining 8+ miles seemed out of the question. I had two bars left on my cell phone, minimal food, and was starting to get chilly. I didn't bring enough layers to stroll through the woods, only enough to maintain the perfect temperature while running. My only option was to get back to the car as quickly as I could, while incurring as little extra damage to my IT band as possible while not letting my core temperature drop.
This was work mode. Getting back to the car was my job and I was on the clock. The Red Bull did the trick to boost my energy, and I was focused on finishing. As I hiked as briskly as I could I felt my IT band ease up just a little bit so I was more able to bend my leg. After a few minutes of minor relief I decided to try and slowly run on it. I got about two minutes in before my leg seized up again, taking my breath away, and leaving me hunched over and shocked at its intensity. But then the pain subsided rather quickly. I started to run again, and a few minutes later, another intense shooting pain. I completed the rest of the miles back to the car with the Quasimodo style limp run and necessary walk breaks. It was awful. My Saturn Vue had never looked so inviting. A 22 mile training run had taken more than six hours. I had lost. That section of the Ice Age Trail had kicked my ass, and karate chopped my right in the IT band.
In the few days after this run it became very apparent that I had done serious damage. I could barely walk, let alone run. As 7 days with pain turned into 10, I knew the verdict. That I would not be competing in the 50k I trained all winter long for. On paper my training plan I constructed was flawless (or so I thought). The miles were spot on, my hill work was great, I had been stretching and getting enough sleep. And then my stubbornness and inability to see when flexibility was needed ended up costing my the race, and almost 3 months of running.
So now, I have set my next goal. To have a re-match with the Chippewa Moraine 50K next April. I will again have a thorough training plan, but I will know when I need to improvise. I know I need to include agility work and running drills so I'm better prepared for the side to side slipping that is likely to happen again out there. I will be better prepared for the elements, and I won't be so rigid that I force myself through acute pain.
That is the only race I trained for and didn't get to toe the line, so after learning this tough lesson, it's time to settle the score.
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