Chippewa Moraine 50k Race Recap

I have been sitting here staring at my blank screen, trying to think of the best way to convey my experience in yesterday's 50k trail race.  How to really describe and get you to, as closely as I can, evoke the experience in you just by reading. But with me level of exhaustion and post race day 'stupids' as I call them, I'm struggling with it.  So I'll just start from the beginning.

Day Before Race:
My boyfriend and I started our drive north around 1 Friday afternoon, and it felt great to get on the road.  I was anxious and excited from the moment I woke up, and knew I wouldn't settle down until we were well on our way.  I nervously chattered, played eclectic songs from my iPod, and eventually we saw signs for Eau Claire and Chippewa Falls. 

Fun car ride! :)

I wanted to get my race packet first so we continued north, as the race was about 25 miles north of Chippewa Falls.  I didn't have the actual address of the nature center so I just put the name of it in my GPS and trusted the directions.  After a looooooong drive down a moderately treacherous dirt road that went past nothing that looked like a nature center, we stopped and I asked a woman who was feeding her horses for directions.  She was really friendly and helpful and before I knew it we were pulling up to our destination. 

The volunteers were great and I happily took my race packet and looked at the blown up course map to show my bf where I'd be running.  That's when I noticed that two of the aid stations were crossed out.  What??  Originally there was to be 4 aid stations on the way (two of them - the now crossed out ones- were not to be manned with volunteers, just water out there in jugs) and one at the turn around, so a total of 9 stops along the 31 mile out and back course.  Now just 5.  Yikes - that made me a little nervous. Thankfully the weather wasn't supposed to be hot at all so my one bottle I had for my waist belt should be efficient to get me to each aid station. 

From there we quickly checked into our hotel, and then drove to Draganetti's, a little Italian restaurant on the outskirts of Eau Claire.   At this point I was HUNGRY so we ordered a couple appetizers, and I had my traditional race eve glass of white wine.  The service was wonderful, the food was perfect, we had great conversation, and my race nerves were calmed.  Our meals were incredible - I had grilled chicken and spinach on capellini pasta with pomodoro sauce. Yum!
 
 Next we went back to the hotel where I showered up and organized all my things for race morning, hydrated a little more, and finished up the night by watching a couple episodes of How I Met Your Mother with the bf.  I crashed hard, but soon after started my cycle of waking up every 20 - 30 minutes or so.  I was getting excited, and was nervous that I'd over sleep, or that I wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night to hydrate and eat a snack like I always do before a big race.

Race Morning:
I finally jumped out of bed ten minutes before my alarm was set to go off and started getting ready.  As soon as I got my racing clothes on I was much more calm.  After my traditional race day breakfast and two small cups of coffee, we were off.   

It was right around 40° at the starting line which was crisp but nice.  I added a light North Face long sleeve to go over my tank top and sleeves just to be safe.  I had a drop bag set for the turn around point so I could ditch it there if I needed to.  The field of roughly 225 people were chattering nervously, which I honestly don't like, so I went to the edge of the group near the few people that weren't talking about their nerves.  I like quiet time to focus before the start of a race instead of getting swept up in other people's nerves.  I knew I trained well, and I knew what my goals were (to listen to my body, walk hard up the up hills, and run the rest, and ideally negative split), and that's all I needed to think about.

The Race - First Half:
The race started about 7 minutes late, and I was ready to roll.  The first part was a steep, winding down hill (that we would be crawling up at the end to the finish ling - cruel!  But I'd wait to think about that till later) and then around a prairie type area.  We wound back around by the parked cars and then filed into the woods.  I settled in behind two guys, one who was a cyclocross racer, and the other was a long time runner who did the Chippewa 50k last year. I enjoyed their conversation, and at the same time tried to tune out the people behind me.  A man with a big booming voice was enjoying stating the obvious about everything, and I just don't like hearing a lot of words when I'm working hard.  The first aid station was about 3 miles in, where I quickly downed a Gatorade and cruised out of there in less than ten seconds or so.  I wanted to drop that group behind me and hear some other conversation. 

I don't like to talk much at all when racing trail - it distracts me and feels draining to me at times, and I knew I'd be breathing harder in the tricky sections so I wanted to save my breath.  I pictured myself as a 'ghost runner' - not talking, quiet feet, quiet breathing, and I'd pass them later on.  It helped to stick to my game plan!  I was now behind two guys that reminded me of listening to Trail Runner Nation, so I really enjoyed them.  Both were very experienced ultra runners, and have done multiple 100's.  They talked about how good they felt, and how they wanted to run the second half faster than the first.  I was a little intimidated by that, and the fact that one of them had been racing ultras since 1992, so I thought I best to let them pull ahead shortly after the 10 mile aid station.  I felt like I was running their race instead of running mine because I liked their conversation so much. I needed to re-collect myself and fuel a little extra as I was getting a little tired by then, and there was a LOT of race left.  I felt good slowing down a bit and eating and drinking extra.  I felt like I took the first half harder than I needed to, and to top it off I had 5 hard ankle rolls up to that point.  3 rolls on the right ankle, and two on the left.  The outside of my right ankle leading up towards my knee was burning quite a bit because of the severity of the last roll, so I was trying to play it safe and really watch my footing. 

The leaves on the trail made it hard to know what you were stepping on, and made the narrow, winding down hills pretty slippery.  Overall there were a lot more runnable sections of trail than I remember and that helped to give me more of a rhythm. 

After mile 12 I was really fixated on getting to that turn around point.  I had a Red Bull and an Aleve in my drop bag, and I really wanted them both.  I never take meds of any kind while racing, but with the added possibility of falling, ankle rolls, and early onset soreness in my quads I put that Aleve in there just in case. And I was SO glad I did.  After a few more miles, hopping a fence, a couple narrow bridges, and some gorgeous views I heard the cheering and knew I was just about there.  Seeing the top of the tent through the trees put a huge smile on my face and I was SO relieved to be there.  I took off the long sleeve I wanted to ditch 14 miles earlier and slammed down the Red Bull and took my one Aleve. I then topped off my water bottle and ate a mini Pay Day, and I was back out there.  I had been counting the places of the women in front of me and I was right around 27th overall female at that point.  I wasn't 'racing', but wanted to know where I was at in the standings.

The Race - Second Half:
On the way to the turn around the runners headed there were to yield to the runners that were heading back to the finish.  That disrupted my rhythm on the way there, so once I was heading back on my second half it felt great to have the other runners move off the trail to let me through.  I started feeling my Red Bull and Aleve kick in and I was feeling gooood.  Just to give you a mental picture, there really aren't any parts of this course that are truly flat.  There are at least mild grades on what eventually feels 'flat' compared to the rest.  As you can imagine, it takes a toll on your quads quickly, and the downhills you looked forward to so much in the beginning, are now what feels the worst. 

I didn't want to roll my ankles any more so I was intensely watching where I was stepping.  I didn't have an more ankle rolls, but I kept catching the end of branches with a toe, then lifting it up and tripping myself with it.  I collected a couple good scratched on my calves because of those. 

Just after mile 20 I started seeing people's wheels really falling off, and I was feeling great by then.  I had been running behind a woman for about 15 minutes and then we came up on another group of 4 or so people.  At that point the path widened and got really muddy.  By then most people were walking slowly trying to avoid getting any muddier, so I took this as a time to start pressing.  I hopped through it the best I could and took off.  I decided to count 'road kill' to keep myself busy and pushing forward, so in that move I collected 5 road kill - I collected a few soon after the turn around as well so my total at that point for the second half was 8 or 9.  I felt a true second wind (which was really more like a fifth wind) and was cruising.  I was surprising myself by how quickly I was going and how much energy I had to power walk up those climbs.  I had two mantras in my head - the first was 'tough as nails'.  The other was 'run the runable'.  I knew if I would stick to my plan of only walking on the uphills, and walking powerfully, I'd do well, and possibly negative split. 

Coming up on people who were obviously slowing down, falling, stumbling, and stopping fueled me even more.  I remember thinking in that moment that this was what I LOVED to do.  I loved that feeling, the silence of the woods, the power I had within to move my sore legs and keep my cadence pretty high. I loved the stillness of my surroundings, the sound of my breathing, the smell of the pine forest sections.  I wanted that part of the race to go on forever.  It felt like... home.  It was the most myself I could ever imagine feeling.  It was glorious. 

During that surge that lasted about 6+ miles I road killed 25+ people, and even passed the two really experienced ultramarathoners who had intimidated me a bit in the beginning. The last three miles were tough, and I found myself running with two other women, two other tough as nails, badass, amazing women.  I felt fortunate to be suffering with them near me, talking a little bit, and encouraging one another.  I didn't care if I passed them or not, I was just happy to have other people's strength to inspire me and keep pushing me through to that finish. 

The one woman that had been ahead of me for a few miles pushed forward, as she was really driven to get her goal time of 6:23 (a full hour faster than her time there last year) and I stayed with the other woman who was near us.  I felt a burst of energy when we got out of the woods and circled back by the parked cars.  My bf was on the hill next to there waving and taking pictures - I couldn't wait to collapse into his arms and be done, so I pushed.  I started picking up my pace to get some space in-between me and the woman I was talking with, but got over zealous and overshot the turn. She was nice enough to yell and get my attention and so I backtracked and kept pushing.  A woman I had passed at the aid station at mile 28 had pulled in front of both of us and I didn't want to just give her that place.  She was pushing hard but I stuck to running tangents to move as directly as I could and it made up some time.  I added some kick to help drive me up some of the base of the hill before I started power walking my way up to the finish and it gave me some distance between me and the other two woman.  This was by far the worst I felt the entire day. The climb was steep, you could hear the crowd at the finish line, I knew these two other woman were on my heels, and I was starting to look like the people I passed deep in the woods.  I could hardly move my legs so I tried to use my arms as hard as I could to help propel me up that damn hill. I was groaning and breathing hard - so much so that the guy in front of me turned around to make sure I was okay.  I somehow broke into a run at the top so  could run across the finish line, and some woman even said 'wow - she's got some kick left!'  The clock was about to turn to 6:27 and I wanted to cross before I got there, so I finished with a final time of 6:26.56.  19th overall female, and 5th in my division.  And I did negative split by about ten minutes. 

This race was an amazing experience.  After training to run this one in 2009, and then getting injured on the course during my last long run (and then not being able to run for 3 months after that) it felt wonderful to settle that score.  I am happy with how I executed the race, I feel fortunate to run with such strong and inspiring competitors, and I am content with taking some time to recover.

On a side note, I kept laughing at myself last night as I was falling asleep.  You know how sometimes you dream that you're falling and startle yourself awake? I did that over and over and over last night - I spent so much of my day tripping and trying not to fall on the trail I was dreaming about it!

Thanks everyone for your support and encouragement while I trained for this event.  It was wonderful.I'll post pictures of the event this week. :)

 

Quite a different facial expression in the car on the way home than on the way to the race!

 

 

Brain Training

There's a commonly repeated quote about ultra running that is '90% of running an ultra is mental, and the other 10% is mental.'  I totally agree with that.  Sure, logging miles, running hills, fueling properly, and listening to your body are all important elements, but if you get to the line on race day and you aren't sure can do it, and you're not focused - you are probably about to endure a running nightmare. 

I am really intrigued by how the brain works, and am fascinated with how powerful it really is.  To complement my physical training I have been doing since December, I felt that I needed some more refinement with my mental game.  I have spent a fair amount of time at a local Buddhist temple called Deer Park.  I first became interested after hearing the Dalai Lama speak back in ... 2008 I think it was.  Every now and then they host a day that they call the Day of Silence, or the Day of Meditation.  I went to a Day of Silence back in 2009 and found it to be extremely helpful in not just quieting my brain, but focusing for a really long period of time.  This past Saturday I went to a similar event. 

Deer Park - last summer

The schedule of the day was:
9:00 - 9:15 - overview of the day; begin silence. (yes, we weren't supposed to talk at all, except for during Q&A times.)
9:15-10:15 - teaching
10:15 - 10:45 - meditation
10:45 - 11 - break
11 - 11:30 - Q&A
11:30 - 12 walking meditation
12 - 12:45 - lunch (silent)
12:45 - 1:15 - walking meditation
1:15 - 2:15 - teaching
2:15 - 2:45 - meditation
2:45 - 3 - tea and cookies in the temple
3 - 3:30 - Q&A
3:30 - 3:45 - meditation
3:45 - 4:30 - closing

There were 60 people attending which I thought was a fantastic turnout, but it became apparent during the day that people were struggling to stay focused and invested.  Maybe around 15 or more people bailed as the day went on.  I did take a break during the afternoon teaching to take a walk outside and caught a 15 minute cat nap which did rejuvenate me.  During the afternoon I took the meditation time to really work on visualization for my race - I do this fairly often as I'm falling asleep, or when I'm on a run, but it felt good to sit there and really visualizing all the pieces of the 50k. 

Prayer flags behind Deer Park. So pretty!

I'm happy I took a whole day to sharpen my mental game and enjoy some quiet.  I have to admit, there's something pretty cool about a room full of people eating lunch at the same time and it's not filled with mindless chatter about people's jobs, their opinions, their complaints, or their questions.  You could just sit and be.  All you needed to do was exchange smiles and that was enough. 

After my day of silence and meditation I was ready to gather my thoughts for Sunday's 22 miler.  It was going to be my first time doing a long run in the morning, so I did my best to prepare.  I'm much more of an evening runner, so starting a run at 8am is not my idea of a good time.... but if I'm going to be ready for Saturday's marathon, and next month's 50k, I knew I needed to do at least one long run with the right food once. 

Things went pretty smoothly, and I took it easy to enjoy the scenery and just cover the miles - I didn't need to try and zip through them.  Temps warmed from the low 30's to almost 50 by the time I was done.  The paved trails were quiet to start - probably people sleeping in after celebrating the Badgers making it to the Final Four the night before!!  :)   But I had plenty of birds to listen to, saw almost 20 cranes enjoying the warm day, and loved not having to worry about snow and ice for the first time this year! 

See the two cranes??

I finished the run pretty strong.  I do feel like I'm not quite in the shape I'd like to be in, but I am recovering really quickly which isn't usually the case.  In looking forward to Saturday's marathon I'm just looking forward to finally having people around, and I don't have to carry all my water and food!  It should be a great way to end my training and kick off my taper.  My tight hips and calves in yoga class tonight reminded me that my three week taper will be a great opportunity to get some more classes in.  :)  

 

Shedding Light on the Dark

It’s easy to write about running or talk about running when it’s going well.  You want to celebrate your victories, share your new insights on the world, and disclose your happiness of a smooth, long run with perfect hydration, mental focus and strong legs.  It’s natural to want to share your happiness, but when you have a bobble, or worse, a meltdown, you want to keep it under wraps and not let anyone know. Well, I’m writing to do the opposite.  Shed light on the dark spots of training and as I like to say it, ‘put my chili out there.’  If I go through it, I’m willing to bet everyone else does too.  We just don’t shout it from the rooftops.

I would have to say that probably 95% of the time I’m mentally calm, focused, and have my ducks in a row. Not a whole lot rattles me (and generally not for long when it does), I maintain perspective on different events pretty well, and  do a good job at being mindful of the core facets of my life (work, training, coaching, health, relationships).  And then there’s a day like yesterday. 

I woke up in a good mood from a great three hour workout the night before, was excited to do a little baking while my boyfriend snored in the other room, and was going to write out my final five weeks of training and lounge with coffee and a good book.  The baking went as planned and I felt good as the smell of banana nut muffins permeated my small apartment.  Then I took my calendar dry erase board to write out what my training had in store for me for the final five weeks leading up to my 50k. And then it happened.  Seeing those final two weeks of mileage building and three week taper fit perfectly on the calendar made my heart jump up in my throat.  Seeing race day sitting on the very last day with its pink border and exclamation points made me feel like it was taunting me instead of promoting excitement. 

                My last two weeks of training were not what I had planned, since one week was in Las Vegas and I had nothing but concrete to run on which did a number on my calves which were already pretty severely knotted up, and then I came down with a really nasty cold the following week.  I started to feel my anxiety rise and that led to my brain starting to spiral.  Am I running enough hills?  My trail shoes aren’t working for me with long distances, should I try different ones?  Have I been doing enough upper body and core work to help me power though the race?  I’ve barely thought about nutrition and how I want to handle that – what will I be eating?  

And of course once you are stressing and unsure of one area of your life, self-doubt and internal conflict eventually creep into other areas as well.   How will I be able to handle speaking at this meeting on Friday?  Will I be able to pull all these big projects off?  Am I just playing dress up by wearing professional clothes and making decisions?  Am I too focused on my relationship?  Am I being needy?  Do I text or call my friends enough?  Did I make the right choice in the apartment I just signed a lease for?  Is this really the right nail polish color for me?  Am I having a bad hair day?  And on and on it goes.  Self-doubt knows no boundaries when you’re a naturally analytical person and a perfectionist.  There’s always something to be better at, someONE who is better at it than you, and mistakes that you will make. 

                I practically felt like I was drowning as all this started.  In my younger days I was a ball of nerves and anxiety most of the time, except for when I was running or horseback riding.  Thankfully times like these are more the exception than the rule, but that doesn’t make them any less jarring.  When my boyfriend woke up and shuffled into the living room he looked at me like I had antlers coming out of my head. I definitely was not the person he was used to being around. 

                I quickly ran down the list of usual activities that calm me down and focus me, so I threw on some clothes and my trail shoes and headed to Indian Lake to hike.  Fresh air and quiet always do a great job to recalibrate my head.  Unfortunately when I got out of the car I was greeted by a harsh, cold wind, and a thick layer of ice on the trails near the woods.  After two near falls down the side of a hill I turned around and went back to the car.  It obviously isn’t really spring yet here, and navigating a thick layer of ice without crampons and an ice pick was going to be a bad idea. 

                My plan B consisted of getting a new book at Barnes and Noble (George Sheehan – TheEssential Sheehan), sushi and a glass of white wine.  My chaos and second guessing finally started so subside.  Thank GOD.  After reading a few passages in Sheehan’s book, I had a realization.  I recognized that the source of so much of my stress I encounter is when I feel like I need to be someone else, or live up to someone else’s standards.  

                When I was spiraling about my race I was thinking about all the miles other people are probably logging, what they will think if I finish with a really slow time,  what my friends and family will think if I don’t finish in the top however many spots.  When I was stressing about my work presentation the source was a fear that the audience wouldn’t think I knew the material enough, they’d think I was nervous, I wouldn’t be polished enough and professional enough.  In both of those scenarios I was trying to be something, or someone else.  I was reading a book a week or so ago where the author was trying to be authentically herself more often, and in those moments that she succeeded, she was happier, more effective, and connected with people more easily.  So that’s the key here for me – to be Tracey in my training, in my work, in my relationships – I am a risk taking, envelope pushing, achievement lover.  So why not get tenacious and go for these things and rid myself of this mental clutter? 

                Sure, my last two weeks of training haven’t been great, but the 9 or 10 weeks prior were.  It’s time to pull things together and accept the hard, but rewarding work that I have to pull off before I taper.  I have always had a borderline paralyzing fear of public speaking, so instead of continuing to brood about it, work on it. Tomorrow night I have my first meeting with a local chapter of Toastmaasters International and I am actually pretty excited. I shared this on my facebook wall and the input and support I had from my friends made me even more resolute in addressing this fear and working on it. 

                I feel renewed today and am happy that I was able to shift the anxious energy I had yesterday into something constructive and positive.  I hope that being very open and direct about those dark places will encourage some of you to allow for that as well.  Those perceived short comings of ours can bring people closer together and give more understanding to those already complex relationships in your life.  It also gives you a great place to look back to once you’re on the other side of it and appreciate how you rallied out of a rough situation. 

The reason we struggle with insecurity is because we compare our behind-the-scenes with everyone else’s highlight reel.

The Pieces Are Falling Into Place

As I mentioned earlier, I love putting together a training plan.  I've been thinking a lot about what I want to accomplish next year, how much time I want to spend on training, and what my big picture of running should look like.  The things I want to work into my program are the start of back to back long run training, keeping my weekday workouts very high quality and time efficient, and to have balance in my week with consistent yoga and running drills. 

I have never done back to back long runs in the past, but would like to incorporate those in later next year if I do decide to commit to the 50 mile race at the North Face Endurance Challenge.  I think I've figured out a moderated way to work that in for my 50K training.   Here's what I think my training weeks will look like:

Saturday - long-ish run of 60% of the distance of my actual long that week
Sunday - long run. 
Monday - shake out / recovery run of 25% of the distance of my long run and yoga
Tuesday - speed work and drills
Wednesday - yoga
Thursday - hills and drills
Friday - off

I still need to think on this to see how well it realistically fits into my life in general, but I think it's a great rough draft.  One last thing I like to add in to my training is to do a marathon as my last long run. I like to do that to have people around, and to also rely on aid stations a little bit so I don't have to carry all my stuff with me.  I thought that finding a marathon in early April would be really difficult, and I'd have to travel south to find one, but I was happy to find the Trailbreaker Marathon April 5th in Waukesha!  That felt like the last big piece of my training puzzle. 

Now that I have things generally figured out, I have to think about how I want to structure my workouts leading up to the start of my training.  I have been spending some of my time lately listening to podcasts on Trail Runner Nation, and there was one I listened to the other day that really hit home.  It was about rest.  Something mentioned was the importance of being somewhat out of shape when we start a training cycle.  I, like most runners, like to get in shape before I get in shape.  As Greg McMillan so expertly explained, it benefits us to rest and give our body a true break before we start a training cycle.  If we get in shape and then go into a training plan, that's often when we plateau or over train - that has been a habit of mine.  I like to prepare - A LOT, so trying this approach to truly scale way back from early November to mid/late December will be a test for me, but I think it will give me a really solid platform to start building on.  Let's hope you are steering me in the right direction Mr. McMillan!  :)   It feels GREAT to have this to look forward to right now. 

Here's the link to the podcast I mentioned - it really helped me to understand the importance of true rest.  Lots to soak up in this one - Trail Runner Nation ROCKS. 
http://trailrunnernation.com/2013/06/give-it-a-rest-with-coach-greg-mcmillan/

Fun fall-like pic from a few years back.  LOVE the changing leaves this week!
 

It's Time to Settle the Score

If there's one thing I love, it's picking out a goal, planning how I'm going to reach that goal, and then moving forward with as close to flawless execution as possible.  Whether it's a goal that pertains to a race, learning a new word every day for a month, or getting through the grocery store in less than 23 minutes without forgetting anything on my mental list, I'm all over it.  I love to plan. I thrive on details and preparing myself for any 'what ifs' that may come up along the way.  If I am preparing for a race I will train in all types of weather, purposely run when I am most tired to get comfortable running uncomfortable, and put extra weight in the pack I'm carrying just so it feels lighter on race day.  If I'm trying to set a land speed record in the grocery store I go through my mental list in the parking lot, in order of the layout of the store, and think of a pattern around the store that seems most efficient. My appropriate check card is the first one in my wallet, and I leave the phone in the car to minimize distractions along the way.  It's just what I do.

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.