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Hell Comes to Beantown: 2011 Boston Marathon Report

2011-04-23T00:00:00Z

"Nice job, stylishly dressed all in black guy!"

... The East Coast. They'll always let you have it. There's nothing quite like the Boston Marathon.

A couple of quick highlights:

Huge props to Sarah and Gor -- friends of Dr. Ora's -- who were kind enough to let me crash on their floor. so nice!
I showed up to the race in a heavy bathrobe procured at Goodwill in Jamaica Plane. It was universally acknowledged this was a good idea.
I got rousted by the cops while attempting to pee in a field right before the race. I ran away.
What kind of retard gets his legs seriously cut up while running a major city? I took a quick break in the woods right after the start of the race... my return to the course was pretty ugly.
The crowd on this course is unbelievable.
Gotta be honest, feel like I was mislead about the whole Wellesley girls thing. I was expecting to dive into a sea of human flesh -- what I found there was far more chaste. I was expecting a full-on makeout session! I can kiss girls' cheeks anytime! I don't have to run a marathon!
I ate some little girl's popsicle. I'm 99% sure she was giving them out, but not positive.
After the race, while waiting for the bus back to Jamaica Plane, we were chatting with some other runners. Nearby, there was a fit looking older couple wearing what I thought were finisher medals... but they turned out to be VIP passes. "How'd the race go?" I asked... to which the gentleman replied, "Great! Our son finished the race in 2:04!"

"Holy crap! Who's your son?"

It turned out, those were Ryan Hall's parents on their way back to Jamaica Plane to stay with a family friend. Super nice people... chatted all the way back home.

... perhaps I should rewind a bit. ...The Boston Marathon?

When I started running a few years ago, my stated goal was pretty much always to get into Boston. I didn't really think it was possible -- after all, you need a 3:10 if you're under 35. At the time, that seemed really fast.

... and it is. There's no secret path to getting faster -- it took me years of training to get to the point where I could run that fast. I was quite dedicated -- pushing myself hard almost every day of the week. I ran marathons...started running ultras... did an IronMan... just kept getting out on all kinds of interesting adventures.

Somehow, along the way, got fast enough to run a 3:06 in 2009. PF Chang's... it is what it is -- pretty much your classic, flat burn across a pretty predictable city. Of course, I'm nothing if not a chronic procrastinator, so I waited a little while to sign up for Boston and missed my shot in 2010. Luckily, I was able to rally once again at PF Chang's in 2010, running a 3:09 qualifying for Boston again by squeezing just underneath the 3:10:59 cutoff. My friend Dr. Ora reminded me to sign up on the day registration opened and, despite my nature, I did... which was lucky, given that the race sold out in 8 hours.

Just when you think you got out, it sucks you back in. Really, I've been kinda over the whole road marathon thing for awhile. I dig it and I'm glad I occasionally do those races, but they're kinda pricey and just generally a little fussy. Plus, races like that totally beat me up... that pounding kicks my ass. These days, I'm much more of a trail runner.

The flight out was insane. To save money, I'd routed myself all over the place on Southwest, figuring no big deal. However, as we tried a much-delayed landing at BWI, things got super sketchy and we got bounced all around. The girls sitting on each side of me -- neither of whom I'd met before -- actually grabbed my arms. Someone in the back was shrieking... I was just hoping people didn't start puking en masse. We got bumped over to Dulles for awhile, then flew back to BWI, then picked up the people stranded there for like 8 hours and took them on a nice smooth flight to Boston. My arrival was 5 hours later than anticipated...

That said, the Boston Marathon was one of the most fun things I've ever done. The whole thing... totally a class act from start to finish. For me, just getting to that point represented my accomplishment. I was showing up, dressed in a bathrobe, with no real expectations. My only goal was to not get beat by Dr. Ora and / or Nicole. If I could not get passed by Michael Miller, then that would be friggin' awesome... but the depth of competition is ridiculous.

Let me put it this way -- a PF Chang's, I finished in 250th place. At Boston, I was 4181rst. Daaaaamn!!!! Everyone my age is at least as fast as me if not faster...

So, they bus you out to Hopkington super early in the morning. It's quite a scene... at Michael's invitation, we rolled down to a Dunken Donuts near the bus staging area to meet with a bunch of other AZ runners. Kind of a different crowd than the one I normally roll with -- they do, like, track workouts 'n' stuff -- but they were super nice, somewhat familiar, and very welcoming. From there, we headed over to the buses.

You end up waiting quite awhile out there before the race starts. There's food and whatnot, but it's cold. Apparently, the police don't want you to pee in the field. So.... uhhh... don't plan on doing that. Ran into Michael Miller while just chillin', chatting with other runners.

After awhile, you go down to the main start, get into the corrals, strip off your bathrobe (if you have one), and get ready to rumble. The energy in the crowd is electric. "Watch out!" I was consistently warned by people. "It's easy to get sucked into the race in the first 7 miles since it's downhill."

It always takes me awhile to get into the groove... since the race doesn't allow official pacers, my strategy was pretty straightforward -- I found some guys who had run this course a bunch of times and had a gps. For me, running these races while trying to maintain a reasonable pace has become a pretty grim assignment. Let someone else do the hard work of figuring out splits and whatever... I just wanted to tuck in behind somebody and autopilot for a few miles while I tried to figure out how I could slap as many hands as possible.

Weather was perfect... a nice breeze from the back, cool temps, clear blue sky. The long sleeve shirt came off almost immediately and got tied around my waist. Had this been a trail run, I probably would have taken off my shirt. I brought my Ultimate Direction bottle.I I couldn't bring myself to buy road shoes and it seemed a little retarded to try and do the race in the Minimuses, so I did the race in my MT101s.

There's some zany stuff out on the course. I ran for awhile with a clown... at the start, there was a guy in a speedo with his number duct taped to his back. (Brrr!!!) There was no part of the course that didn't have thousands of screaming fans and the energy was just incredible. You could hear the ladies cheering at Wellesley from a long ways away. Other groups of college students were cheering us at other points of the course. The Boston Marathon is run on a Monday -- Patriots Day -- so everyone seemed to have off to drink... and G-d bless them for it. From my perspective squarely in the middle of this race, the Boston Marathon is just a whole giant sea of serious looking runners stretching off into the distance as far as the eye can see...

All in all, I guess the terrain was pretty much what I expected. It's nice back there, just cool running into a city like Boston through all those little towns. The hills... I mean, I bet Heartbreak Hill really sucks if you're trying to break a 2:30 or something, but if you're cruising along at a 3:15 pace and slowly losing steam, it ain't shit.

Looking at my splits...


5k	0:22:48
10k	0:44:54	
15k	1:06:56	
20k	1:29:22	
Half	1:34:20	
25k	1:51:59	
30k	2:15:47	
35k	2:40:22	
40k 	3:05:23
	
Finish:	
Pace		0:07:29
Time		3:16:15
Place		4181
Gender		3753
Division	2296

... you can see I lost a couple mins in the second half. I kinda fell apart towards the end... my calves were cramping up pretty seriously and I had to resort to brief walking breaks near the water stations to try and get it together. I ate just about everything I saw on the course -- that little girl's popsicle, a bunch of oranges, some gu... plus I started drinking gatorade occasionally. I started making deals with myself: run a mile, then I stop and walk for a moment at the next mile's water station... given that I was in pretty bade shape, that worked pretty well to keep me going.

The end of the Boston Marathon is incredible -- you turn a corner and all of a sudden, there it is, about .4 miles away. Theoretically, this is the perfect opportunity for one final death sprint to the end. In my case, it was more about survival than anything, just gettin' her done... I ran it in with style, if only to avoid disappointing the gathered multitudes.

"Are you ok? Do you need a wheelchair?" asked the medical volunteer, right after I crossed the finish line. "Yeah... I just need a minute." The last thing I wanted was to sit down, even though all I really wanted was to sit down. As I stumbled forward, my left calf completely locked up and I almost fell over. I was fighting the urge to puke, choking down one of those Gatorade recovery beverages they thrust into your hands. One of the volunteers -- all of whom were amazing -- wrapped me up in a space blanket and I posed for an official photo. Ouch!

At this point in my marathon career -- such as it is -- I'm having fewer and fewer surprises. My times really do reflect my training, which, while not exactly half-assed, isn't at all targeted at running fast. I'm not sure what was going on there at the end... drank a ton of water, plenty of electrolytes and calories. I think it's just straight up preparation that prevents that super crampy calf feeling around mile 23. Either that or compression socks. (I think we all know I'm much more likely to try the latter.)

Important lesson learned: next time, I'm going to have warm clothes waiting for me at the finish, since it's freezing cold in Boston, at least by AZ standards. I scavenged a discarded space blanket ("Has it really come to this?") and shot the shit with another ultramarathon runner while waiting for Dr. Ora to finish and make her way to the rendezvous. We both had pretty good beards going.

The trip home was incredible... the whole city tells you that you did a good job. We met Ryan Hall's folks at the bus stop. Some drunk guy gave us both a hug.

The Boston Marathon turned out to be really, really fun... who knew? I went in with a total "whatever" attitude and finished thinking, "I've gotta do this every year!" At the time, I thought I'd need a 3:05 to qualify in the future, but it turns out, even with the tightened restrictions, now that I'm 35, I get bumped back into a more mellow qualification standard. I can run a 3:10... if I know I'm gonna get something cool out of it, like re-entry back into Boston. Yay for getting older!

Finally, gotta give special mention again to Sarah and Gor, who were kind enough to let me crash on their floor in Jamaica Plane. Nicest people ever! They even fed me! After the race and a little chillin' around town, we had a Seder and feasted, celebrating our freedom from bondage.

Best Stuff 2010

2010-12-29T00:00:00Z

So.... here's my random braindump of what, at least in my opinion, is the best stuff of 2010. Of course, the best thing continues to be my friends and family -- I hope ya'll already know how much I appreciate you all in my life.

Maybe it goes without saying, but it was Double Rainbow Guy's year. What does it mean? Here's a roundup of the rest...

Best Movie of the Year - Black Dynamite. So much better than that movie should have been. Awesome sound track. Amazing plot. Honorable mentions go to True Grit, Operation Endgame (total sleeper, watch it on Netflix), Jackass 3D, I Am Comic, and MacGruber.
Best Game of the Year - Red Dead Redemption. I began the summer at a Gamestop with a simple request: "Find me a game that's kinda like Grand Theft Auto but isn't too challenging." Without hesitation, the 16 year old girl behind the counter pulled out Red Dead Redemption. She was right. That's just a fun game with an engaging story line, tricky enough to be interesting but forgiving for people like me, who maybe aren't the most dedicated of video game players. Took me all summer, on and off, to beat it, just in time for the zombie expansion pack to come out around Halloween. Of course, that delivered what I really wanted -- license to wander around randomly shooting people in the head.
Best Podcast of the Year - NPR: Planet Money. An outgrowth of the now legendary "Giant Pool of Money" episode of This American Life, Planet Money is a fun and informative look at the world of economics. Like the TAL episode, it's totally friendly and casual... even a little goofy... it assumes you're interested in the subject, but don't have any particular background in economics. The hosts come across as curious without any axe to grind, although the hunt continues for the central causes of our financial crisis. Also worth mentioning: SuperEgo, The Nerdist with my personal hero, Chris Hardwick (formerly of Singled Out), Jordan Jesse Go, and The Bugle with John Oliver from the Daily Show.
Best Martial Arts Movie on Netflix Streaming - Ohh.. tough one! I've gotta go Chocolate even though Ip Man and Ong Bak 2 were friggin' fantastic. If you haven't seen it, though, Chocolate is probably the best autistic teenage girl martial arts movie you will ever see in your life. Oh, and since I'm such a sucker for prison fighting movies, it would be criminal not to mention Undisputed III: Redemption. Turns out, when you're secretly shipped from your prison to one in a far away land to fight in the tournament which crowns the world's greatest prison fighter, it's hard to know who you can trust. Along those same lines, OSS 117: Lost in Rio, a movie about a somewhat confused super spy, totally cracked me up.
Worst Sport of the Year - Dodgeball. Fuck dodgeball. I mean... what were we thinking? Meet Balls was more or less the Bad News Bears of dodgeball -- we had the Jew, the Indian, the Canadian, the Dad, the Nerd... what do you expect for a bunch of computer programmers? We got slaughtered. By everyone. Totally brutally. See... here's the thing -- this ain't kickball. The people who play dodgeball take dodgeball very seriously. It hurts when they peg you with dodgeballs. No offense to the people who love doing dodgeball -- I'm glad you've got your thing -- but I am never doing that ever again.
Best Sport of the Year - Ultramarathon running. Duh! Western States 100 was outta control, but I had all kinds of fun races this year. Thanks to everyone I encountered out on the trails in 2010... you're all amazing people! In that spirit, I should probably also take a moment to recognize one of the great moments in ultramarathon running -- the showdown this year between Anton Krupica, Geoff Roes, and Kilian Journet at the WS100 this year. Totally an epic battle between three undeniably amazing athletes, all of whom just seem like really cool dudes.
Device of the Year - The Dyson Animal Vacuum. This thing has changed my life... I mean, when you've got a 90 lb yellow lab who spend most of his spare time shedding, having an industrial strength vacuum cleaner is the best thing ever. The Dyson is just so darned cleverly designed. Amazing.
Website of the Year - xtranormal.com. This little site, which allows you to create primitive animations with your own dialog and sound, has become a fantastic outlet for people's bitterness. Check out: iPhone4 vs HTC Evo, Typical post-ride conversation between bikers, I'm a runner. Runner up has to be NMA, a crazy realtime animation company outta Taiwan. Examples? California dreaming of pot legalization or US-Sino Currency Rap Battle or JetBlue drama: flight attendant quits via escape chute. ... Finally... the Onion video content just gets better and better. They've got some TV enterprises launching shortly, but in the meantime, you've gotta love stuff like: Obama Replaces Costly High-Speed Rail Plan With High-Speed Bus Plan and Joad Cressbeckler Fears Genetic Modification Causes 'Wrath-Minded Taters'.
Album of the Year - Titus Andronicus, the Monitor. Who knew a rock opera about America's most emo of presidents, Abraham Lincoln, would be so good? Special shoutouts to the Avett Bros... Kanye... Girl Talk... the Thermals... Fang Island... Sleigh Bells... Free Energy...
Song of the Year - Fuck You by Cee Lo Green. Right on, man....
Experimental Audio Recording of the Year - The Knife, The Colouring of Pigeons... from a rock opera about Darwin, I believe. Incidentally, the Knife are responsible for my favorite moment in Swedish Music Awards of the last few years.
Invention of the Year - Blast Knuckles. They're like brass knuckles, but they've got a taser in them as well. How brutal is that? In the "dubious innovations" category, we have to give props to The Batter Blaster. Spray on pancake mix... a problem that didn't need to be solved, solved. Does sound kind of fun, though.
Blog of the Year - You Are Not So Smart. Ever since reading "The Black Swan" a year or so ago, I've been into this idea that we're all a lot less clever than we think we are. Obviously, the complete failure of the geniuses running the financial system point our inability to deal with complexity, but I mean that on an almost more basic level. Reality... it's at least partly a construct of our own brains. We fill in all the missing gaps and, to save time, we take all kinds of mental shortcuts. Most of the time, we get things right. Sometimes, though, we get it totally wrong. You Are Not So Smart compiles a lot of those common errors, mistakes that get at the core of what it means to be human.
World Leader of the Year - Putin. I know... you thought I was going to go Berlusconi -- who, let's be honest, he hasn't done too many awesome things since being hit in the face with a model of Milan's Cathedral at the end of 2009. Putin, though... he played Blueberry Hill, harpooned a whale, hugged a polar bear, rode around shirtless on a horse, was innaugerated into a biker gang and got the nickname 'Abaddon', drove a Formula One race car, and flew a firefighting plane over the forest fires outside Moscow.
Best Legal Document of the Year - The Collins Divorce [pdf]
Best Random Discovery of the Year - the 20 dollar trick in Las Vegas. The concept is simple -- when you check into a hotel in Vegas, slip a $20 in between your license and credit card when you check in. You're bribing the clerk... and it works friggin' awesome.
Periodical of the Year - The Alpinist. The Alpinist is, like, a climbing porn magazine. REI has it. It's the quarterly journal of people who do crazy stuff at high altitudes. The stories are all more or less the same: "I had this friend who had a reputation for being a nut / I let him talk me into climbing something big on the condition that if things got too crazy, we could turn back / we found ourselves way over our heads and thought we were going to die / somehow, we didn't die and made it to the top / here are the pictures." It's awesome. Runner up is the Economist... because of its cheeky captions. Oh, and a big shout out to Ultrarunner Magazine, who hooked me up with a free copy of the Western States issue when I subscribed. Totally went out of their way... how nice is that?

Jon 1, WS 100 0 -- My 2010 Western States Race Report

2010-07-05T00:00:00Z

"Oh mah gawd... what a fucked up day..."

There's a video that Judy shot, just a little snapshot of me running around the track at Auburn, all hunched over, beat up... and I say that into the camera as I shuffle along. Kind of sums it all up nicely.

The Western States 100. That shit is legendary. It's the oldest, most venerated race of its type in the country... 100 miles, through snow and water, with 18,000 ft of climbing and 24,000 ft of descent.

It's hard to explain how you feel, when you finally make it to Auburn. Ready for it to be done, sure... but kind of blown away by the whole experience. There's nothing else quite like it, emergenging from the woods after running all night into a town where you're, like, part of an endless zombie parade of runners cresting the final hill.

We'll come back to that... since, for someone like me, it takes a long friggin' time to get from the race start in Squaw Valley to my final resting place on that track. 27:40:52.

The Western States 100 is a total class act. From beginning to end, I was very impressed at how well organized the whole affair is, given the complexity of the event. I would imagine that checking in for the WS100 is a lot like getting all set up to participate in a minor Olympic event or something. You show up the Friday before and they totally hook you up with cool stuff -- a killer Mountain Hardware backpack, a nice WS100 fleece, some cool sleeves, your standard issue "Western States 100" technical shirt that you can wear to intimidate the runners at the Fiesta Bowl half marathon. From there, they weigh you for the first of about a billion times, then take your blood pressure, chat wth you about your general condition, etc...

There's a bunch of pre-race hangout time built into the process. Since the race is the main game in town, the world's greatest runners totally take over Squaw Valley. It's, just, such a good scene... ran into a bunch of the regular offenders from AZ and beyond. "Oh shit, is that Krupica?"... "Hey! That's Hal Koerner!"... "Will I ever run a race without getting my ass kicked by Dan Brenden?" Everyone is super friendly and while it's a little intimidating, looking up the ski slope knowing that the next day at 5 AM you're going to have to start a 100 mile run by getting up that thing, I really didn't feel any anxiety at all.

I'm not saying running 100 miles has become routine for me... after all, I'd never really done anything on the scale of WS 100 before this. I felt 100% confident that I'd be able to finish this thing. Now, I wasn't at all sure I'd be able to do it in 24 hours, but my strategy, in so far as I had one beyond "keep moving forward," was to begin with that assumption and slow down from there. Oh, and grow a beard.

I have to give big ups here to my crew, since they were a big part of why I able to jump into this without much fear. Judy Stowers and my Mom.... they did great. My main mistake at the VT100 last summer was not having anyone out there when I didn't know the race very well. This time, I'd be able to drop and pick up stuff as I needed, so I wouldn't have to worry about shoes or changes of clothes or anything like that. Obviously, it's always good to enter into a brutal athletic activity with someone like Judy, given the depth of her experience in the sports massage world. I figured that if worst came to worst, she'd be able to patch me up and get me going again.

I also decided to play a little with my gear, given past errors in other races. This time, I went super light weight and ran with just the MT100s, a pair of those old adidas shorts with the bike-style inner liner, a sleeveless running shirt, a coolmax hat, and one of those Ultimate Direction fanny pack / single bottle holding things. I'm not ashamed I wore a fanny pack! It was was more comfortable than my aging and somewhat heavy Camelbak MULE, but the combination of that and carrying a single bottle worked out pretty well. Don't worry, I bought the women's version... it's a tranquil light blue. I also wore Judy's watch. I have a men's one of my own, but it just doesn't feel right on my dainty, bird-like wrists. I threw two small packages into the drop bag piles, but I knew I wouldn't touch them. Those Powergel gummi blobs were more like a token offering to the Gods. I have no idea what happens to these things if they're not used, but I hope some homeless runner somewhere gets a burst of speed eating them during their next race.

With the Gods in my side, logistically, I had the Western States 100 on lock down.

There's a mandatory pre-race meeting where they go through the specifics and introduce the various bad ass runners and some of the volunteers behind this amazing effort. It's a pretty low-key affair, but full of good information. There were two major changes this year: first, the was a pretty big course re-route do to snow at the top of the escarpment. I don't know the other course, so I have no idea how much of a difference that makes. Second, at Rucky Chucky, we'd be cruising over the river on rafts instead of wading through like usual. Fine with me!

The race is divided up into three parts. Part one, the trip up the escarpment and across the mountains to Robinson Flats, is all fucked up. The middle third, the canyons, that's all fucked up. And then the final long ass descent into Auburn, that's all fucked up too.

4 AM. Race starts in an hour. You show up, they weigh you and you get your race number and affix it to your shorts like a proper trail runner. There's food and fit looking people everywhere. It's cold outside, so we're all in the little lodge, organizing gear, saying hi to other runners.

Shortly before five, we all make our way outside to the starting gate. It's not quite dawn and it's cold. We're about to run up a very large ski slope, illuminated by lights.

... and then, boom! We're under way. Walking 2,500 ft up the Escarpment is the perfect way to begin a race. I bet the serious people ran up that thing, but me, I was happy to just chill out and chat a bit with some of the people out on the course that day. I was glad I was wearing a long sleeve shirt, since it got pretty cold for a skinny dude like me, but I felt good. Excited! People told their stories about how they got there, what races they'd done, that kind of thing. A guy in a pink tutu told me he's doing Badwater in a few weeks, followed by Leadville.

I love it that, no matter how much I feel like I might've stepped over a line somewhere with ultrarunning, there's always a guy in a tutu proving that, at the very least, you aren't the worst offender.

The first aid station came and went pretty fast... and at the top of the hill, someone had set up a gong, maybe the best backdrop for playing a gong ever. What's that sound about, anyway?

Looking back behind us, the Squaw Valley was shrouded in mist, now way down far below us. Once you come up over that hill and start running, it's on for the next 30 miles to Robinson Flats.

Now... I'm from Arizona... what the heck do I know about running in snow? It's awesome. I tagged along with some random Portlander named Leif and we slid down little snow hills and sloshed through mud and water. That dude... he's just rad. Not only is he a long ditance unicycler (think century rides), but he was doing WS in Vibram KSOs. Fun fact! Leif did the PF Changs 50k barefoot, so, since it's kind of an unusual distance for a road race and he's one of the only ones to have done it, he gets to claim the "Fastest Road 50k Runner in the World!" title.

The run to Robinson Flats was, without a doubt, my favorite part of this race. I love running on snow and getting covered with dirt. I knew I had a change of shoes / socks waiting for me at 30, so I didn't hestitate to get wet. Somewhere between the Poppy Trailhead and Duncan Canyon we went through an area someone dubbed "the garden of a thousand sticks." It looked like the trail had been bushwacked through the foliage the day before, so while I got cut up a bit, the trail was easy to follow.

Arriving at RF was pretty interesting, if only because it's such a transition from the calm of the trails to the first major aid station where crews can assemble. My transition here went pretty smooth, but tips for future WS crews: send a spotter down as close to the entrance to the station so that your runner knows you're there. It's kinda mayhem there, so I'm not dissing my crew at all -- the way the station is laid out, it's you can't actually get with your crew until you leave the station entirely... which isn't a problem if you know for certain there's someone down the road a bit, but if you're still early in the race and anxious to get moving, it's... well... it's just good to know. I changed shoes and socks and started the climb out so I could do the first descent.

I've got to be honest with you, this next third of the race is kind of a blur. I settled into a rhythm as the day got warmer and found a bunch of interesting guys to run with. Our pace was pretty chilled out, more or less a combination of running and walking. My weigh-ins had gone just fine so far, so no problems there... just settled into my rhythm of eating gels, popping S-Caps, filling one of my bottles with water and one with Gu20, drinking lots of Pepsi, and munching on melon whenever I had the chance. Mmmm... cantaloupe....

I didn't think Devil's Canyon was too bad, but maybe that's just because I got in a ton of climbing in the heat leading up to this race. After you cross the bridge, there's a pool at the bottom... I dipped my shirt into the water and when I put it back on, experienced an immediate deep freeze. I stopped for a few minutes at El Dorado creek, the bottom of the next canyon, to take a look at my feet. They were getting pretty banged up... as were my quads. Those downhills, which might have been easier early in the race, started to really take their tolls. My ability to execute a controlled freefall down the trail was started to be in doubt, but I still powered down the hills ok. It was around here that I started trading places with Amy Palmiero-Winters, who I'd narrowly go on to beat as she became the first amputee finisher of Western States.

Now... it probably goes without saying, that chick seems pretty hardcore. She looked like she was really suffering on the downhills, but would usually close the gap pretty quickly on the climbs. I'd heard earlier that there was a amputee runner from Arizona in the race, so I asked, "Hey... are you from Scottsdale?"

"No... that's the other Amy." Weird... yeah?

The popsickle at Devil's Thumb was heavenly. In general, I probably spent way too much time screwing around in aid stations, but fairly early in the race, I started drinking soup. Yum. Soup. On the way out of the station, I chatted with with an older gentleman from Seattle, whose name I totally can't remember, about him finishing like a billion ultramarathons. He just likes to do each one 10 times. That's his thing. (He finished a little after me, looking solid.)

If you look at my splits, things get a little weird at Michigan Bluff. I stopped here for awhile to get my feet looked at by John, the podiatrist. He and his crew totally patched me up, but it took awhile. I took advantage of the opportunity to kick back and rest for awhile, just chill out and eat more fruit and soup... so that probably helped me. Also, my pacer Steve showed up and introduced himself.

Now... I can't say enough awesome things about Steve Rourk. That guy, he totally helped me out! So... I didn't have a pacer slotted in advance, so I posted to the WS100 website in the "Pacer Wanted" section that I was "just some random dude from AZ" trying to finish in around 24 hours. Steve, another random dude from AZ (Sierra Vista) responded -- he's doing Hardrock this year, so he wanted to get in a long training run and Western States worked out perfectly. He used to live up in the Valley so we knew some people in common and it just worked. Not only did he keep me moving all night, but was full of good insight into trail racing and what it takes to be successful in the sport.

Once I escaped from the podiatrist's tent, I made pretty quick work of the next aid station and powered through to Forresthill School.

I arrived feeling good, right as the sun went down. This was a pretty major aid station with crews and fairly sizeable crowd of onlookers, so I took a little while to recombobulate, affix my headlamp to my head, and restock on gels and whatnot. Steve and I set out a few moments after Ron (paced by Debbie), and it wasn't long before we caught them during the endless descent into the canyon.

It was a loooooong night, filled with seemingly endless climbs and drops. I started moving progressively slower, but Steve stayed on top of my situation, gently reminding me to eat something periodically. As we advanced a bit through the field, we started to see real suffering out there. Aid stations started seeming further and further apart.

Hitting Rucky Chucky at 1:30 in the morning was surreal as we emerged from the darkness into a hub of activity. The boat ride across the river was quick, followed immediately by a climb up a big ass hill to Greengate. From there, more running / walking, all night long... making steady progress to the end, passing and being passed by the same basic group of people I'd hang with to the end.

We made it to Brown's Bar just after dawn... although we could hear it from a ways out. They were playing "The Long and Winding Road" on the loudspeakers... mocking me. I resisted the urge to drink a beer or do a Jaeger shot in favor of some Tylenol and gummi worms. G-d knows how many Gu packets I ate during this race.

You can only suck down so many of those things. My stomach was suffering a bit, so I started gobbling down ginger and tums whenever I saw them. Aid stations, even relatively late in the race, were completely well stocked and staffed by enthusiastic volunteers. Thanks guys!

Steve did a good job of keeping me moving on the climb up to Mile 49. Mile 93... up all night... feet totally trashed and knee starting to really hurt on the downhills, I knew I was going to make it.

The last seven miles of Western States perfectly encapsulates how this race fucks with you. At no point does it let up -- you have to do a relatively big descent to get down to the river and cross No Hands Bridge, then do another big climb up to the final aid station at Robie Point.

Make it there... and you're done. Except for one final hill. (They had to throw that in.) Tim Twietmeyer gave me five as I powerwalked up the last incline and as you roll through the town, there are people, dogs, and even a cat cheering you on as you rumble by. The energy is amazing.

You just follow the flow into town. Sure... it hurt to run, but you pretty much have to keep hustling with all those people looking on. The sound of the PA announcing the finishers pulled me in like a tractor beam.

... and that's where that video picks up. Over 27 and a half hours after I started that journey at Squaw Valley, I was crossing the finish line at Auburn... a moment I'd thought about ever since reading about the race in Dean K's book a couple of years ago.

Immediately as you finish, you're intercepted by the medical crew who start asking somewhat complicated questions about your health. "How do you feel?"

... I mean... how how do you answer that? "Uhhh... like I just ran 100 miles!"

Which is to say, somewhere between amazing and destroyed. I volunteered to participate in a medical study, so I hung out for a bit while they did a blood analysis and declared me in good enough health to go relax.

The damage was substantial, but nothing particularly surprising or alarming. The chafing... I don't think I need to say more, but it hurt. A lot. (Lesson learned.) My right little toe had an award-winning blister that spurted puss when popped by the med tent guy. I promptly hit the showers and caught up with the other finishers, traded stories, and ate some solid breakfast.

I am in awe of the people who finished this race. AZ reprezented: Andrew Heard had an amazing performance (coming off an injury??) and finished in 20:44:56. Jamil Coury rocked it as well, crossing the line at Auburn in 21:41:08... and Ron completed the race in 28:23:40. Dan Brenden finished in 24:45:39. I assume there was wife carrying involved.

Get this though: even if I'd picked up 12 hours somewhere out on the course, I still would have gotten soundly beaten by Geoff Roes, who finished the race in 15:07. Holy shit. It sounds like he and Anton and Killian all had a heck of a race out there... Krupica's race report is totally worth reading for a perspective from the front of the race. Those guys are just awesome.

Having finished 204 out of 328, I'm 100% satisfied with my race. I finished the Western States 100! I got a bronze buckle! While there are definitely things I would do differently in the future, I beat my only previous 100 mile finish by an hour on a MUCH more difficult course.

Learned some valuable lessons on this run. It is good to stay as light as possible. If it doesn't seem like you'll need a long sleeve shirt, don't bother carrying it. I need to get my blisters under control -- I feel like they brought me down in the last 20 miles way more than even pure fatique. Everything just gets harder when your feet hurt. Also, Body Glide. Uhhh... ouch!

Honey... Kirk... Joe... Debbie... Jody... Jamil... Nick... all the people in the WMRC gave me pretty solid advice leading up to this race. If you're a time traveller from the future reading this report, trying to figure out how to train for this crazy thing, let me pass along their wisdom: prepare for the downhills, because with 24,000 ft of descent, that will destroy you if you're not ready. Sure, the climbing is tough, especially in the heat of the afternoon, but running downhill becomes more treacherous, the more you damage your quads. The Grand Canyon was, in a lot of ways, the perfect place to prep, since it's got those big ass canyon walls to get up and down. I didn't feel like altitude negatively affected my run at all.

I'm just so grateful I had the opportunity to do Western States. I just think it's great that I, just some random dude from Arizona, get to do this stuff. I'll never play pro basketball or drive in the Indy 500, but the trails are always open and I love that. Ultramarathoning is an incredible sport.

It was around mile 80 where I finally came to terms with why I'm never going to be one of the great super long distance runners of our day: I really don't like being in pain. Some people can just power through, spurred on by competition or some deep, internal drive... I don't have that.> I just want it all to go nice 'n' easy. For the most part, this all did. I'm pretty sure this was the most fun thing I've ever done in my life... and while I entered the race thinking "There's no friggin' way I'm ever going to do this crazy thing again," I finished thinking: "You know, with a bit more training, I bet I could get a little better at this and finish sub-24."

What a fucked up day.

Here are my splits, as grabbed from the webcast...

CheckPoint	Mileage	Time In	Time Out	Elapsed	Pace	Pace for Section	Place
Squaw Valley (Start)	0	--:--	5:00:00am	--:--	--:--	--:--	--
Escarpment	3.5	--:--	--:--	--:--	--:--	--:--	---
Talbot Creek	13	--:--	--:--	--:--	--:--	--:--	--
Poppy Trailhead	19.6	08:54am	--:--	03:54:00	11:56	11:56	214
Duncan Canyon	23.8	09:51am	--:--	04:51:00	12:13	13:34	215
Robinson Flat	29.7	12:43pm	--:--	07:43:00	15:35	29:09	380
Miller's Defeat	34.4	01:00pm	--:--	08:00:00	13:57	03:37	232
Dusty Corners	38	01:39pm	--:--	08:39:00	13:39	10:49	235
Last Chance	43.8	02:42pm	--:--	09:42:00	13:17	10:51	218
Devils Thumb	47.8	04:29pm	--:--	11:29:00	14:24	26:45	251
El Dorado Creek	52.9	05:46pm	--:--	12:46:00	14:28	15:05	247
Michigan Bluff	55.7	06:52pm	07:27pm	13:52:00	14:56	23:34	249
Bath Road	60.6	--:--	--:--	--:--	--:--	--:--	---
Foresthill School	62	08:49pm	08:53pm	15:49:00	15:18	18:34	249
Dardanelles (Cal 1)	65.7	--:--	--:--	--:--	--:--	--:--	--
Peachstone (Cal 2)	70.7	11:13pm	--:--	18:13:00	15:27	16:33	239
Ford's Bar (Cal 3)	73	--:--	--:--	--:--	--:--	--:--	---
Rucky Chucky (near)	78	01:25am	--:--	20:25:00	15:42	18:04	206
Rucky Chucky (far)	78.1	--:--	--:--	--:--	--:--	--:--	--
Green Gate	79.8	02:05am	--:--	21:05:00	15:51	22:13	220
Auburn Lake Trails	85.2	03:50am	--:--	22:50:00	16:04	19:26	204
Brown's Bar	89.9	05:23am	--:--	24:23:00	16:16	19:47	199
Highway 49	93.5	06:38am	06:38am	25:38:00	16:26	20:50	202
No Hands Bridge	96.8	--:--	--:--	--:--	--:--	--:--	--
Robie Point	98.9	08:22am	08:22am	27:22:00	16:36	19:15	199
Auburn Finish Line	100.2	08:40am	--:--	27:40:52	16:34	14:30	204

A few notes on preparing for a very long run...

2010-06-22T00:00:00Z

Tapering is a bitch. I, like, don't know what to do with myself, so I guess it's time to update the blog.

Western States. A few days away. Holy crap.

The thing is... I don't feel like it's total hubris that I'm throwing down for this crazy race. I've done a lot to prepare... I've assembled a crew. I think I've found a pacer. I've settled on gear... broken in new shoes...

... but more than that, I've been running. A lot. I'm better set for this race than I've ever been in my life. Which is good... since this Western States, at least on the face of it, sounds astounding in its brutality. 100 miles... sure, that's tough... but throw in 18,000 ft of climbing and 24,000 ft of descent, you've got yourself a serious challenge.

Honestly, I put name in for the lottery, thinking that, given the odds of getting accepted, I'd be safe from having to set foot at the start at Squaw Valley for the rest of my running career. And yet, next Saturday, that's where I'll be... for better or for worse, this is really going to happen.

Since it's been awhile since I updated my blog, I thought I'd say something real quick about what I've been doing to train for this crazy race.

Mostly, it's been a lot of just straight up running around the neighborhood, of course... that's kind of my bread and butter -- my early morning jaunts around Tempe Town Lake / Papago Park with the dog. Obviously, Gus loves that stuff... and we've been doing longer runs on Saturday morning, mostly at South Mountain. With the heat being what it is, he's pretty maxxed out around 10 miles, but out there on National, that's actually a pretty good workout. We hit Camelback at least once a week as well... and, of course, I've been pretty careful to not do anything horrible to myself on that mountain. Beyond the usual horribleness, naturally. I've also been rock climbing regularly with Dr. Jen and Judy... and that's just awesome. Totally my scene. I can't wait to devote more time to getting good at that, but clearly I've got a ways to go.

I finally climbed fucking Flatiron... but more than that, I did two really awesome night runs to prepare for the effects of sleep deprivation and really hard runs. First up was the Grand Canyon with Kirk, Jody, and Paulette... it goes without saying, rolling with those guys, who are all just really superb athletes, was an incredible experience. Really, that adventure deserves its own separate report, but here's how it went down: I worked a normal day, then, in the late afternoon, we all met at Jody's place and drove up the Grand Canyon's South Rim. We began our descent just as the sun went down and ran all night. Obviously, that place is spectacular... and while the climb up the North Rim was relentless, by the time we'd returned to the pumphouse, the sun was starting to come up and I felt refreshed and reinvigorated. Paulette and I officially declared our rivalry with each other... so that's good. I'm sure we'll have our showdown soon enough... There's certainly something to be said for the opportunity to run with a couple of Hardrock-level runners... it was interesting to see how they approached long distance runs. The best random thing? I'm cruising along the river at the bottom of the Grand Canyon at like 6:30 in the morning and around the corner comes David, another local guy from PHX who I battle from time to time during races. I wonder if he successfully did a 5 hour r2r?

Obviously, we met a bunch of cool people along the way... Honey, Debbie, and Aaron were out there, too, so we crossed paths a few times and met up at the end.

More recently, I did a night run at Catalina Island... and that was just crazy fun. I stayed up late Friday night and did some drinking at Scott's birthday party. Then, I got up early in the morning, dropped the dog off at the kennel and drove west until I hit the edge of the Pacific Ocean at Dana Point, kinda near L.A. From there, I took a ferry over choppy waters with a bunch of drunk and exhuberant marines, found my pal Tent Girl and had dinner in that adorable little village, then ran all night, again, leaving as the sun went down. Gotta give props to both Tent Girl for helping to provide a measure of sanity to this run -- it's always good to have someone who knows more or less what you're up to around -- and to to the ranger at the campground just outside of town. He casually suggested that running the Trans-Catalina trail alone at night might not be the best idea and that I might be better served by the dirt road that crosses the island. He was totally right.

That was just a magical night, running alone and self-supported, under clear skies and an almost totally full moon. Salt air... shooting stars... I had the place to myself... and those roads totally delivered what I was looking for in terms of relentless rolling hills and easy navigation. At one point during the night, I was cruising along without a headlamp or flashlight, and I see this big black blob moving in front of me. "What the heck?" I turn on my flashlight, and it's a big buffalo, looking as surprised to see me as I am him. He let me by with no problem.

All in all, I did 44 miles in 10.5 hours or so, taking it pretty easy, but staying in constant motion. My journey took me all the way across the island, stopping once at at a campground in the middle of the night to refill water. Some random dude, probably wasted out of his mind in the middle of the night, spotted me on my way in and was like, "Where did you come from?" "Avalon." "Holy shit, that's a long run."

'Course, I still had to run back. I met Tent Girl again for breakfast and from there, I hopped back on the ferry where I immediately fell asleep, drove to Blythe, CA, slept in some parking lot, and drove the rest of the way home. Pretty brutal... kind of messed me up for a little while, but in the best way.

That's how you train, right?

Finally, just went to Havasupai with Jason, Amy, Tom, Jon, Sean, and Brian... that place is just stunningly beautiful... a really great adventure. I spent three days running around down there and approached it in a pretty minimalist fashion: no tent, just a sleeping bag, a change of clothes, my handy jetbroil, and a bunch of food. Oh, and my 100 oz Camelbak and an old pair of MT100s to use as water shoes. And a towel.

Since I'm still not a super experienced backpacker, I didn't do a great job of just bringing the bare essentials, but I did manage to pare it down to about 22 lbs with water. Not too bad -- fit comfortably in my newer, mid-size REI pack.

I decided to experiment with running with the pack on and it worked just fine. I made it down to the village (9 miles) in about 1.5 hours, which is totally solid... although it's almost all down hill. It took a little while to adjust to the extra weight, but I tried to be meticulous as I picked my way through the rocks. Of course, I managed to catch up with my pals as they made the final way down to the campground -- Jon started running along with me, and was like, "Hey Jon!" but at first I didn't recognize him. I was in The Zone and feeling good. Later that day, we frolicked in Havasupai Falls.

Day two, I made my way out to Mooney super early in the morning, had the place totally to myself. Took a leak off a very high cliff... maybe the best way to start the day ever. As it warmed up, I set off for Beaver Falls, a couple of miles downriver toward the Colorado. I thought about going all the way to the river, but that seemed like it would actually require real effort -- the guy managing the Pygmy Trail Guides group told me it would take all day -- so I just decided to go easy on myself. I was kind of wrong about that -- with tons of creek crossings and trails in pretty ragged shape, it felt a little sketchy during the parts where I was hiking by myself through tall grass with tons of lizards scatering as I approached. Since I had no idea where I was going, I just followed water splotches in the dirt as they made their way in and out of the creek, thinking whoever preceeded me would probably know what they were doing. My tracking skills proved successful; the trail led to a group of Boy Scouts from St. George, Utah. The final approach to Beaver felt a little dangerous, but I think that's just because I'm a wuss.

... On the third day, I hiked out. Took like 3.5 hours, something like that... taking it easy but moving forward. Not too much of a story there, except that the parking lot was totally devoid of any people when I reached the top. There were cars 'n' stuff, but not a soul to be seen.

All in all, we shall see how this all goes this weekend. Trying to set expectations low, 'cuz... really... who knows. It's 100 miles! I will say this, though -- I'm way better prepared than I was for Vermont and the JJ100. It's hard to believe that JJ100 was only last October. I'm feeling fit. Solid. Relaxed. While I didn't make it out to the training run, I got in some really solid stuff.

It's gonna be pretty fun though, no matter what. This whole affair is pretty epic and I kind of still can't believe I get to participate in it.

Mesquite Canyon 50k Race Report

2010-03-22T00:00:00Z

If I had to describe the inaugural Mesquite Canyon 50k in a word, it'd be "treacherous."

... which isn't to say it wasn't an amazing run -- because it totally was -- but judging by the amount of blood at the finish line, there was a ton of potential for mishaps out on those trails.

Can't say they didn't warn us: "... a challenging but rewarding experience for all, from the beginning trail runner to the most experienced ultra marathoner," read the website. "The 50km & 25km courses are designed for EXPERIENCED TRAIL RUNNERS ONLY since they travel through a hazardous (but incredibly awesome) section of trail/wash down Ford Canyon."

... now, Nick and Jamil, the Race Directors for Aravaipa Running, totally know what they're talking about. I guess this race kinda sprang from the evil mind of Jamil after spending a ton of time out in the White Tanks with his Boy Scout troop as a kid. "If you're going to do a 50k race out here, you pretty much have to use all the trails in the park," he told me.

That lead to some pretty clever stringing together of the trail system to make a coherent race. I may have called him an some terrible names at some point, but he's looking at them map, he's totally right -- this path slinks all the way around with the park with just enough looping to make it relatively easy to support with enough variety to keep in interesting.

'Course, those guys do a great job with this stuff. The trail was well marked and easy to follow and totally made sense once you kinda got a feeling for where you were in the park.

This was only maybe my third time out in the White Tanks and it'd been awhile. Certainly, for me, out in Tempe, the western edge of the Valley seems almost impossibly far away. Of course, at 5:00 in the morning on a Saturday, jetting out there is no problem... but on any given day, I've been more likely to stick to my neck of the woods in the central / east side of town.

'Sides, the last time I was out there, if I remember right, I got caught up in a hike that was way more brutal than I was expecting on a relatively warm summer day. That was the day I learned that my dog will drink Gatorade if I run out of regular water for him. No permanent damage done, but it made me a lot more careful.

So... the race. It went well for me -- finished in 10th place in a time of 5:20. I'm totally comfortable with that time. I beat the folks I was hoping to beat out there, lost to the people I would've expected to whom I'd expect to lose... Pretty much a perfect day for a run.

We got underway at 7:00 am, just after sunrise. It wasn't cold, although I started with sleeves on just because I'm a wuss and wanted to be comfortable. This was my first time running a race with 'em and they worked out just fine -- they're light enough that I could just tuck them into my shorts until I had a time to conveniently mess with my Camelback.

The opening pace was pretty quick... the race begins with a pretty flat straight up trail run to the first aid station followed by a turn up towards the station at Mesquite. That's kind of where the climbing begins... and it's a mix of gradual, totally runnable inclines combined with a few stairs-y type portions. I pushed myself through here and up through the next aid station.

From there, it was just up and up. There's nothing too horrible in there, just a whole bunch of running uphill. Due to snafu with water delivery, the result of a last minute refusal of the park people to let the race organizers use a jeep road, there was no official aid station between Mesquite and the turn around at Goat Camp, so I knew it'd be a long haul to the turnaround, but there would be water out there if I absolutely needed it. It was nice and shady and cool, running out there felt really good, so I didn't stress about the 9 mile stretch between stops.

Although it wasn't obvious to me at the time, I'm thinking my problems began in here... I'll get to that later, but I don't think I really drank enough water early enough and paid a little bit of a price for it towards the end of the race.

Anyway, once you reach the top of whatever it is we climbed, there's a steep descent which is pretty technical. I kinda love that type of running and since it was a race, I gave myself the freedom to cut loose and just get through it as fast as possible. Within reason... I was careful... but running on Camelback totally prepared me for that type of debris. I passed a bunch of people during this chunk of the race and lengthened my lead on the folks I was trying to outrun...

Just as an aside -- there was one guy I passed out there who had his headphones up so loud he couldn't hear when I was trying to get his attention so I could slink by him. Dunno who he was or how he finished and I certainly don't have a problem with people listening to music while they run, but dude... that seems kinda dangerous. If nothing else, I bet he was surprised when I ran past him on that stuff...

I always like a good out and back just 'cuz you get to the see the entire field, and it wasn't long after I'd completed the descent and was making my way towards the turnaround that I started to see the leaders. Random hikers were telling me I was in 9th place... and they seemed a little mystified by the people running full tilt down the trails. The front-runners at that point all looked pretty tough and surprisingly comfortable.

I stopped for like 30 seconds at the turnaround and began my ascent back up the mountain. That's when the cramping began.

Now, I'm not sure exactly what the story was there, but during that first crazy climb back up the mountain, I really felt it. My calves just totally tightened up, they felt just hard and stiff. I popped a salt tablet, ate a gu, and started guzzling water and that seemed to help, but it had me a little worried at first. Definitely, it slowed my progress and I got passed by a number of guys during that climb.

I ran this race almost entirely alone. I chatted with a few people as we passed each other, but I never really synced up pace-wise with anyone. Which is fine... it's fun to just get out there and run your own race.

Not very much of this course is flat and that climb to the top seemed to take forever. From there, it was just a quick downhill run back to Mesquite where I could refill my Camelback. This time, I stopped a little longer... with about 7.5 miles to go, I was feeling a little beat up, but otherwise solid. My calves hadn't given out entirely, but my agility running downhill, even on those pretty smooth trails, was a little out of wack. Every little stumble hurt like hell.

Out of Mesquite, there's a bunch more uphill then more not particularly scree-y downhill until you end up at the wash. "You guys are doing what?" some hiker girl asked me as I awkwardly made my way through the smooth rocks. I'm sure she witnessed some pretty dubious feats of athleticism as she made her way up the trail and as we careened down. By that point, it was getting pretty dicey -- I took it relatively slow, gave up on the idea of totally staying out of the water. I ran into some other runner in more or less the same state as me, also carefully picking his way though. I was like, "Yeah... my calves are all locked up and I'm not sure what to do about it..." to which he replied, "All you can do is rest."

I dunno... maybe he's right about that? I figured I'd just keep going until something scary enough to make me stop happened, but nothing did. Although my feet got a little brutalized by all the rocks, the MT100s worked really well for this kind of stuff, if only because you can feel exactly what you're stepping on. (This is both a plus and a minus.) I stuck to the rocks just fine and made my way through better than one might expect after running 27 miles or whatever.

Although I took a particularly clumsy stumble coming in, I hit the final aid station feeling ok. From there, the trail opens up and you can just run. Drank some Gatorade and Coke, kept going. Somewhere in the last little bit, I ran across a large-ish crowd of people gathered, at a safe distance, around a rattlesnake. At first, I was like, "Whatever, jerks." but yeah, there it was, all coiled up and rattling at the side of the trail. Guess we're getting to that season...

'Sides the snake, smooth sailing into the end. I knew I wasn't going to catch up to anyone and was pretty confident that no one behind me at that point of the race was going to get through the wash much faster than I did, so I wasn't stressed. It's mostly downhill, so I got to feel like I was cruising... I'm glad splits don't get recorded on races like this, so there's no evidence to prove that I wasn't running really quickly.

The finish was nice and low key and comfortable. The winner completed the course in 4:01 and was long gone before I rolled up, but that's a heck of a time out there. Obviously, the Courys do a good job... soup and tortillas and mountain dew totally hit the spot and gave me enough energy to drive all the way back across the Valley.

All in all, a good day on a tough course. The aid station folks were amazing... lots of familiar faces out there, everyone seemed to have a good race. Gotta give a special shoutout to Sean for finishing his first ultra. He chose a heck of a race to begin with... sorry about the toenails! Casey powered through thing in 9 hours... ugh! Brutal!

Black Dynamite Ringtones...

2010-03-06T00:00:00Z

If you want to be Black Dynamite, you pretty much need to have his sound effects. That's how it works.

So... I uhh... took the half hour to cut out the "DYNAMITE" sound from the theme and make it work as a half decent loop. Maybe you'll like it... I know your lady friends will.

IPhone .m4r format:
http://jonroig.com/black_dynamite_ringtones/blackdynamite_ringtone.m4r

MP3 format:
http://jonroig.com/black_dynamite_ringtones/blackdynamite_ringtone.mp3

My Battle with Garbage Bag Batman and How a Portapotty cost me a Boston Qualifier

2010-02-21T00:00:00Z

Did I ever tell you about the time that taking a leak in the actual portapotty during a race cost me a Boston qualifying time?

I guess that's kinda how you feel when you run a 3:11:16. Now, don't get me wrong -- it's cool. I'm already qualified for Boston 2011, so it's all good. Still... lesson learned.

The Lost Dutchman... that's just a great run, but maybe I should back up a bit and talk about PF Chang's first. Let's call this an omnibus report...

Geez... was that marathon nine or ten? Does it even matter anymore?

Finished PF Chang's Rock 'n' Roll marathon in 3:09:24... and you can actually see video. So glad I beat friggin' Garbage Bag Batman... and that bald dude, I raced him from the very beginning. I honestly thought I'd ditched him at some point since he sounded like he was gonna die, but there he was, finishing right next to me.

Not my PR on the course, but I qualified for Boston, so I guess I'll take it. I feel like I should've gone a little faster, but I'm satisfied. If nothing else, running long distances is getting predictable -- my time was about what I would have expected.

After the IM and JJ100, I kinda took December off. I was still active -- I was rock climbing and running the dog around and stuff -- but I needed a break. I mean, it's not like I just came off the couch or anything to run this race, but, with the exception of the Castle Hot Spring run, which was amazing, I hadn't done much in terms of long runs in awhile.

That was my fifth PF Chang's Rock 'n' Roll Marathon. I just really like it... the depth of the competition is phenomenal, the crowd is super fun, especially if you're towards the front of the pack. The course is flat and fast and finishes about 2 miles from my house. It always seems well organized. Whenever you're feeling down, some kid will high five you.

Three amazing thing hapenned during this race:

I passed Dean Karnazes in the first mile. In your face, jerk!
I raced Garbage Bag Batman, like, forever. At one point, somewhere deep in the race, we came apon an entire aid station staffed by Batmen. It was like he was home.
I gobbled down a Gu at the aid station around mile 16 and, as I ran by a trashcan about 10 feet away, I threw the used Gu packet at the perfect angle to bank it off the side and into the can. The highschool kids saw it and were all like, "Yeah!!!" There were witnesses. This did happen. It was real.

The actual race went fine... I ran with Sandra and the 3:10 pace crew for the first 10 miles, then ditched them at the aid station and went on ahead. I ended up doing the next 10 with some U of A x-country runner in booty shorts. Obviously, she destroyed me in the end.

I was 227 / 5711 overall, 197 / 3190 out of men, 26 / 440 in my division. Tough crowd. I ran the first 10K in 45:07, hit 20 miles at 2:23:02.

I fell way off the pace in the last 10k, particularly in the last 3 miles or so. All of a sudden, all the guys I'd dropped miles ago started to catch up and pass me. "WTF? Are those guys all getting faster?"

Sadly, no. My calves felt like rocks. I had to choke back a puking feeling at 23, not sure what happened there. I was still moving along so I was feeling good about that, but I knew the 3:10 group was lurking right behind me.

Anyway, kept it together and I feel good about that... but I always feel like I should have been able to hold the pace just a little while longer. Maybe I'll try and practice that.

Finished pretty wrecked... and ran into my brother in law at the finish. He looked pretty good after the half marathon.

I've kind of refined my marathon running technique over the last year and I feel like I've got it more or less down to what works for me. Keep it simple. This time, I did the race with the Ultimate Direction bottle full of water, 3 of those Gu Rocktanes, and a salt tablet around mile 13. I wore the New Balance MT 100's since those are the lightest shoes I have. They seemed to work just fine... although I do wonder a bit about their traction on pavement. I really dig those shorts with the compression layer underneath, especially when it's a little colder.

Next year, though, remind me not to park at the Marina. That's a long walk back over the rural bridge from the stadium...

So... right. That was PF Chang's. Big. Loud. Obnoxious. Fast. Brutal. I have to do it, since it's in the neighborhood, and I do really dig it, but it's not really my scene.

The Lost Dutchman, though... how cool is that race?

It's big enough to be a real race and well staffed with volunteers and whatnot, but since it's capped at 600 runners, it's not too big to have the best marathon start of all time.

Get this: you leave your car at the Apache Junction Rodeo Grounds -- which were pretty far out in the hinterlands of the Valley -- and then they put you on school buses and take you out to the Peralta Trailhead in the Superstitions. It's a total local runners race... so much so that even committed trail runners like Debbie Leftwich descend from the hills once in awhile to do things like this. (She ended up on the bus in front of me.)

At the start, they've set up all these little bonfires. Sure, you get a little bit of bonfire action at a race like the Pemberton 50k, where I'd volunteered the day before... but with a couple hundred people out there, just kinda chatting and hanging out, it's just a really chilled out vibe, waiting for the sun to come up in the Supes.

I ate a couple of sugar cookies, drank a bunch of coffee, and wandered out into the desert to take a leak a few times until it was time to wander over to the start.

The race starts with a shotgun blast then descends I dunno, like 7 miles down a dirt road towards the 60. It's a fast start with enough variation in the terrain to make it interesting. I felt like the MT100's worked well out there... since that's the same pair I've had for the last few months, I've worn them down to the point that they're really just grippier road flats.

By the time we hit the road, the pack had loosened up considerably. I ran reasonably aggressively through this section, feeling very much in my element, occupying the time trying -- maybe pointlessly -- to plot what seemed like the most efficient route over the road.

After such a nice start, I wasn't necessarily looking looking forward to the road section of the race, but with the Flatiron in the background, it was really just a nice little tour of the sleepy little neighborhoods over in that part of town. Volunteers were plentiful, although following my standard plan of running with a water bottle and a bunch of Gu, I didn't really need to stop.

Eventually, I caught up with the second place woman, Susan and ran with her for awhile. She set a pretty solid pace... I guess she just moved to town fairly recently, but she's an endurance horse riding guide who really seems like more of a trail runner than a road racer, so I'm sure she'll be someone to watch out for at future events.

Somewhere in there I took a leak in a portapotty, the move that would doom me to total and complete failure.

By the time the marathon caught up with the half marathon in the last 10k or so, I was still feeling good. The course is surprisingly hilly, but that kinda works for me -- there was none of the monotonous pounding of a flat race like PF Chang's. That part of the race is kinda goofy, just because you get to pass soooo many people. I mean, these are the slowest of the half marathoners, still out on the course, but there are all kinds of interesting people in that crowd.

I plunged ahead, feeling strong. I never hit the wall, never really felt bad... although I also never did catch that guy who passed me while I was in the bathroom. Towards the end of the race, I ran past Ron, who asked me, "Do you know what pace you're going?" and I really had no idea at all.

Unlike PF Chang's which has every mile marked and clocks up all over the place, Lost Dutchman is way more relaxed out about that. I guess every mile is marked, it's just with the hills and the run through the crowd towards the end, it totally takes your mind off the miles. I found it really easy to focus and just run.

Clearly, though, those few extra seconds in a proper bathroom cost me dearly. I finished 17th overall, 2nd in my age group with a chip time of 3:11:16, a 7:18 pace. Honestly, it's funny that I missed Boston qualifying by a few seconds and had I known I was so close, I would've picked it up, but that was a little faster than I'd expected to begin with, so I'm totally satisfied. Perhaps most importantly, I beat all but one girl. (That is, of course, how I measure success now.) They feed you breakfast burritos at the finish line.

Tried out those Moeben running sleeves for the first time in this race. They proved to be pretty comfortable, so... that's something. We'll have to look a the pics from the race to see if they're cool or not. Gotta give a shout out to Joe Galope for the course measurement / USATF certification.

... and while we're giving props to other local trail runners, I haven't had an excuse to mention Jody Chase's Cave Creek trail marathon... but that with 6,800 ft of climbing and multiple wet creek crossings, that thing was bananas. Took me almost 6 hours!

So... in summary, running is going well. Ragnar is next weekend... I'm gearing up for the 50k out in the White Tanks in March, Zane Grey in May, then... finally... Western States in May.

Top 10, 2009

2009-12-20T00:00:00Z

Geez... 2010. By now I thought we'd be cruising around our bubble cities with jetpacks on our backs, but instead, all we're doing is tap-tap-tapping away at our fancy phones. It's pretty cool... but I can't help but feel a little let down.

As always, the best things, really, this year were my friends, family and pets. You guys all pretty much rule, but it'd be pretty lame to put you on my top 10 list.

This is America. These lists are for for stuff one can consume, dammit!

In no particular order...

Crank 2. How friggin' awesome was this movie? The first one... a tough act to follow. We were all skeptical. It delivered. Big time. Crank 2 is total mayhem built on the most ridiculous plot ever: after a huge gang fight at a hotel, Chelios is killed falling out of a helicopter at the end of the first flick. But wait! Just moments after hitting the pavement, his body is snatched by a group of Asian gangsters who want to keep him alive to harvest his legendary organs. Chelios wakes up with an artificial heart and the pursuit to reclaim his lost organ begins, all set to a soundtrack composed by Mike Patton from Faith no More. With that kind of setup, how could it not be incredible? This might be the best movie ever made. If it wasn't for...
Up. How adorable was this? Superb story telling. Also great: The Hangover, Hurt Locker, Men who Stare at Goats, Bruno, 2012. Didn't have a chance to see Inglorious Bastards yet...
TheAwl.com. When Ron Paul kicks the Spendocrats out of office and we can finally experience true freedom, I will take this website as my bride. Launched a couple months ago by a bunch of underemployed journalists, theAwl has quickly become my main news source for crazy Jewish conspiracy theories, hip hop music interpretation, Berlosconi updates, celebrity tomato attacks, the decoding of twitter trends, etc... Basically, everything that's relevant to my life as it is now. Also fascinating, the news feed from TheMorningNews.org. I think those two sites might be in league somehow, but I'm not sure.
New Balance MT100's. The most important thing about selecting an athletic shoe is the athlete associated with it. I'm, like, so over Scott Jurek and his clunky Cascadias. I'm into Anton Krupicka now.
Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen. Three years ago, when I was doing my first real trail race up in the Mazatzals, I found myself cruising along, talking to some big bald dude. "I'm doing a book about ultramarathoning," Chris McDougall told me. "Whatever, jerk," I replied. "I can't believe you're about to beat me." Then the book came out. It's fantastic... probably the best book ever written about ultramarathons. At once both a compelling narrative as well as a treatise of the virtues of minimalist running, Born to Run is way more engaging than I thought it would be. I stayed up all night reading it. In fact, it's probably the best way to explain...
100 mile trail races. The brutality is unparalled, but this year I did both the Vermont 100 and Javelina Jundred. Although I only finished the latter, both were amazing, just incredible experiences. I am super lucky that I get to do these things... can't wait to do Western States 2010.
Nirvana, "Live at Reading"... grunge will never die! Sure, I never thought I'd see 2010 when I was 16, but I'm sure the past me would approve of my current lifestyle: still wearing the sandals, cargo shorts, and flannel shirts, still walking a big slobbery dog around the suburbs, rockin' out to Nirvana. "Live at Reading" sounds as vital today as "Unplugged" sounded back in the day. They must've been a heck of a live band, because there's an urgency, a rawness that's missing from most stuff that I've heard for awhile. Honorable mention: Lanhorne Slim, "Be Set Free"... it would be criminal not to mention Jay-Z and "The Blueprint 3." I also really dug Kid Kudi's "Man On The Moon: The End Of Day," Lil' Wayne's "No Ceilings" mixtape, Owl City "Ocean Eyes," Raekwon's "Only Built for Cuban Linx II," Phoenix "Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix." The Lonely Island cannot be denied. Best live show had to be Deer Tick at the Rhythm Room... although finally seeing Gwar was probably a close second. Daytrotter continues to deliver tons of excellent live music, totally free.
Orange Blossom Beer at Papago Brewery. Smooth and creamy... like drinking a creamsicle. In a good way. Probably the best summertime post-swim workout recovery beer of all time. While we're talking about food 'n' drink, gotta give props to the Rokerij. That place... so perfect. So is The Lost Leaf. Parlour is a little too hip for its own good, but pretty tasty nonetheless -- good drinks -- and the waitress at Trader Vic's always seems to remember that I want a mohito, despite that I only go there once in awhile. Kinda weird...
Podcasts. Jordan, Jesse Go / The Sound of Young America / Wiretap / Savage Love / The Bugle / NPR Planet Money / You Look Nice Today / This American Life / Comedy Death-Ray radio / The Onion Radio News. Yes... I'm a nerd. I love podcasts. If we're going to include video in that, you've gotta give it up for the Onion News Network, which really came into its own this year. I think this is the funniest video I saw all year.
Twitter. I know... right? How super dorky is that? The thing is... I kind of love twitter. It's so... simple. It's hard to believe it hasn't always existed, yet the engineering behind doing it at the scale they're doing it kind of boggles the mind. Facebook, now that pretty much everyone is on it, is super practical now... and the proliferation of single subject tumblr blogs is kinda rad, too. My absolute favorite stupid site of the year had to be kanyelicio.us. Classic retarded genius.

I AM IRONMAN!

2009-11-23T00:00:00Z

Finished in 13:02:50... not too bad for my first triathlon, eh?

"I have no business being here..." I told another bemused participant as we hung out by the side of Tempe Town Lake, all decked out in identical swim caps and black wetsuits. We were a fit looking bunch, all in a pretty chatty mood. "I mean, I've done other ultra distance stuff so it's not totally crazy that I'd throw my hat into the ring for this, but I feel like I'm way undertrained. I did my first open water swim in a wetsuit yesterday."

I didn't start the day scared, really... after finishing the Javelina Jundred, I didn't feel like I had much to prove. Ironman Arizona... it was just a bonus race, I told myself. A lark. Still... I paid almost $500 to participate, so I was determined not to let it go to waste.

To some extent, I was very well prepared. I mean, obviously, having just completed a 100 mile ultramarathon three weeks ago, I'm in fantastic shape.

Still, though... I really only started cycling in earnest about five months ago. I was out on my bike a couple nights a week towards the end of my training regiment leading up to the JJ100, but did one 100 mile ride, that's it. All in all, it had gone well, but I certainly wasn't sure how I'd fare when doing 112 miles as part of a longer race.

Same way with swimming. I'd been the pool all summer -- what else can you do in AZ after work when it's 110 degrees out -- but I'd never swam a full 2.4 miles, and I'd certainly never done it in open water with a wetsuit. The day before the race, I took the wetsuit I rented from the awesome folks at Triple Sport out for a test drive. Felt weird. Floaty. It left me wishing I'd given that a try at some point earlier in my training cycle.

Standing on the edge of that lake, though, I was committed. I certainly wasn't 100% sure I'd survive that swim, but I was determined to give it my best. That's all you can do, right?

That swim start is fucking insane. Sure... I was warned about it -- "a mosh pit," "the washing machine effect," etc... but there's really nothing that can prepare you for what happens when 2500 psyched up triathletes all start swimming at once.

The race starts with the entire field floating in Tempe Town Lake. It's crazy to see from the shore -- just a bunch of bobbing heads -- but from the water, it's even more surreal. When things get going, everyone goes as hard as possible immediately. There's no room between people, so things get ugly fast -- everyone colliding, kicking each other, it's like a giant scrum. I'm half convinced we all wear the same swimcaps is that it makes it harder to target specific people later for revenge after the horrible things they've done in the water.

At first, the frantic action was too much for me. I had to fight my way over to the side of the lake and sit for a minute, just to keep from hyperventilating. After a few seconds, though, I plunged back in. There was still a ton of contact, but I kinda found my rhythm and before I knew it, I was breathing normally and moving along at what I considered a reasonable pace.

Navigating in the open water was kind of tricky for me. For the most part, I just followed the crowd, but on the return trip around the lake, I kinda found myself swimming off in the weeds for a little while. I probably could've done this all more efficiently, but I was amazed at how much the wetsuit helped me as a skinny dude who's perpetually sinking when I swim. The water was cold, but at the time, it felt pretty good. My legs cramped up a little part of the way through, but I managed to drag 'em along ok 'till they felt better. No problem. I emerged from the water at 1:28:01... for me, that's an incredible swim time. The wetsuit really did make it easier.

It wasn't 'till I hopped out after 2.4 miles that I was like, "OMG... I'm totally freezing." Joe Galope stripped my wetsuit... how cool is that? It's always nice to see a friendly face along the course. (Earlier that morning, I also ran into Sandra, working the transition bags again. She helped me find a replacement day clothes bag for the one I forgot at home that morning.)

I took about 15 minutes at the first transition to warm up and change into bike clothes. The people who are serious about this stuff, they just do the race in one outfit. Me... I wanted to be comfortable. I knew I was going to out there peddling away for a long time.

I headed out towards the Beeline, feeling pretty shaken up. My toes were frozen and didn't unthaw until I hit the turnaround at Shea. That first leg out was pretty bleak -- the wind was strong, fighting my efforts to get up the hill at every turn. I proceeded pretty carefully. Ironman is full of rules and the last thing I wanted was to incur a drafting penalty. (They literally have a penalty box.)

Of course, the existence of a drafting penalty means that you really can't chat with the other folks you're riding with, since you have to leave a fair amount of space between you. Certainly, as a guy who likes to shoot the shit with other athletes to help pass the time, that was strange for me... but I settled into the groove soon enough. I actually sped up throughout the ride, once I got progressively more comfortable on the bike and started to develop a strategy: find someone who seems fast and follow at a reasonable distance. Let them do all the hard work of navigating, keep your head down, and keep moving forward. It was really nice to do a ride out there and not have to worry at all about traffic.

I certainly feel like I bonded with my bike. Her name is Amelia. I'm also now aware of just how much faster some people bike than me. Who knew?

The bike portion took 6:45:34. It all went really smoothly; no flat tires, no major problems. I ate a ton of bananas, barely touched my special needs bag, except to refill the Perpetuem on the second loop. Although I saw it a few times, I couldn't bring myself to pee in my bike shorts, so I stopped fairly regularly to properly relieve myself. Towards the end of the ride, I followed the advice some random guy at one of the Tribe rides and spent a fair amount of time standing up in the saddle, just to get my legs ready for the marathon. I had no intention of hitting the ground running, but I wanted to get prepared. I really hadn't done anything in terms of BRICKs, so I wasn't sure what to expect.

I got in and out of the run transition fairly quickly. I took about 10 minutes to change into running clothes, put on my shoes / socks, fill up my water bottle, and gather my wits. I kicked it in classic trail runner style -- number, folded up on my shorts, Ultimate Direction bottle in hand, and MT 100's on my feet. At this point, I was still feeling pretty good... still, with an entire marathon left to go, it seemed like it was still going to be a long haul to the end.

"After all that, I agreed to do what? Run a marathon?"

I took it pretty easy. My total run time was 4:23:18, but my splits are kind of hilarious. I just kept getting slower and slower until the last 10k, when I picked it back up. It's kind of fun, doing all this stuff totally on my home turf -- "I live just on the other side of Papago Park!" I told everyone who would listen -- but doing loop after loop around Tempe Town Lake got old fast. The course is surprisingly difficult. I mean, not really, but it has actual hills in it, unlike the PF Chang's Marathon. After the first loop, I settled into a groove of walking all the uphills and stopping at every other aid station for Coke and Soup. I was very careful to stay on top of my nutrition for this entire race and I think that paid off.

Cruising repeatedly through the little IronMan village under the Mill Bridge was a fantastic experience. It reminded a little of the NYC Marathon; big crowds crushing in from either side, tons of cheering and support. It helped a lot. I didn't bother at all with my special needs bag.

Finally, I saw mile 25 and it was on. Now, this may be my finest moment in sports thus far because I really turned on the heat. I don't know how fast I ran that last little bit -- probably sub-7:00 -- but I must've passed like 100 people during the last chunk. If I'd known I was so close to the 13 hour mark, I would've busted that out a little earlier, but it didn't really matter at all to me at that point. It's awesome what a small world it is, though -- I was taunting some random Tribe dude during my epic last mile since I figured he was local, trying to get him to run with me, and it turned out to be Aaron Berkowitz. (We didn't recognize each other at all...) In your face!

Here's a crazy stat for you -- I started the run in 1972th place, finished it ranked 1416. That is to say, I took out 556 people during the marathon. That's... uhhh... something, right?

I hope I can find video of my finish. I ran through the chute, slapping the hands of everyone along the way there... just felt really great to have that done with.

One of the cool things about this race is that, at the finish line, you're actually met by a volunteer who is assigned solely to making sure you, personally, are ok. It's pretty awesome... never had that in a race before. It's a classy touch...

... and it really goes to how important and amazing all the volunteers were for this event. You guys were incredible! Thank you so much!

All in all, this was super fun. Glad I did it... don't know if I ever want to do it again. Of course, some part of me is like, "There's no reason I couldn't shave 30 mins off my run and an hour off my bike and turn in an amazing performance," but I certainly wasn't moved to immediately sign up for next year's race. My body doesn't appear to have suffered any permanent damage, but I'll be sore for the next few days. Certainly, I'll keep biking and swimming as cross training and if the right race comes along, I might be moved to do it.

After doing a hundred mile race, a lot of people have asked me about the relative toughness of the IM vs an ultra... and I don't really know what the answer is. Training for the IM was extremely time consuming. -- I don't know how anyone with actual responsibilities gets it done. At the high point of my training cycle over the summer, I was waking up every morning to run, going to work, and coming home to swim or bike every night. It felt weird to only do one workout a day. On the weekends, I was alternating between long runs and long rides.

Once you get in the training, IM wasn't too bad. I guess that's how it works, right? Still, though, one can only imagine the effort it must take to get really good at all those disciplines. I had breakfast this morning with a bunch of local badasses including Paul and Linda, both in the top five for their age groups. I've gotta say -- those guys are in ridiculously good shape and must be incredibly focused in their training. (Cheryl Miller's crew really tore it up out there!)

So, obviously, something like the Javelina Jundred is a much harder race in some sense -- it took me 15 hours longer -- but there's a real art to doing a fast tri. Props to everyone out there who beat me!

It's funny, though, how different the ultras are than a tri like this. With almost 2,500 people starting, this was a huge race. The logistics are mindbending to think about. Given its size, it's weird what a quiet race this is in a lot of ways. Participants don't really talk to each other the way people do in running races... but it was kind of peaceful, shuffling along in silence. The funniest story I heard from the race was from Dr. Ora, who witnessed some guy peeing in the penalty tent. He was DQ'd.

I just wanted to take a moment to thank all the people who helped me get ready for this race. I know IM folks have a reputation as bunch of jerks, but I found everyone to be really cool and supportive. Thanks!

100 Miles in the Desert -- Javelina Jundred Race Report

2009-11-05T00:00:00Z

I ran 100 miles! It took 28:20.

Holy crap... right? I mean... that's a really long way to run. When I tell people that I ran the Javelina Jundred on Halloween, they're generally like, "WTF?"

... at least that's the reaction of the people that don't know me. The folks who do know me, they know I've been hard at work, training for this thing. But that's not to say that skeptics don't have a point.

I mean... there's really no good reason to run 100 miles. It's not about health, that's for sure -- it's hard to explain. For whatever reason, it's just one of those dumb things I've wanted to do ever since I found out it was possible.

... and yeah. Obviously, I've been hard at work. For months and months and months, my life has been: wake up, run, go to work, swim or bike, sleep, repeat... pretty much endlessly. This has taken something a toll on my regular social life, but I've fallen in with a cool crowd of athletes from around the valley. Training... it hasn't really been a chore or a bore at all; to the contrary, I've had a blast. Every weekend has been an adventure.

I guess I've been really lucky like that.

This race, though, was all about revenge for my failure to complete the Vermont 100 back in July.... and I think we can all agree that "revenge" is the second best reason to do anything. (The first, is, of course... women... and you know I do it all for the ladies *cough* *cough*)

Having learned a ton from my first DNF, I was way better prepared this time out. I was certainly trained better. Besides my normal base of 50-60 miles/week running, all that swimming really hardened my core. The biking has just been fun, a nice, low impact way to see the far reaches of the Valley. In pretty quick succession leading up the race, I did a rim to rim to rim in the Grand Canyon, paced my pal Dr. Ora into a Boston Qualifier in the PDX Marathon, and ran Honey and Debbie's crazy 18 miler up in the Mazatzals.

In terms of strategery, I was on way better footing as well. Not only do I know the Pemberton trail really well, having run out there a million times, I had a much better sense of what my body needs in terms of nutrition and water and salt and whatnot. The central tenant of my plan was simple, though: grow a beard, let my hair get long, and channel my inner mountain man self into a long, slow run through the desert.

This time, I was ready.

The festivities kicked off in earnest with a dinner at PF Chang's Mesa hosted by the legendary / infamous Caballo Blanco, "The White Horse" of "Born to Run" Fame. He showed a race video and whatnot... and also had the chance to meet Fireman Scott and Sarah aka Rainbow Brite aka the other Jewish girl who does this crazy stuff who isn't Dr. Ora. Obviously, that girl is pretty rad... and it's always a pleasure to meet other likeminded Jews. There are a handful of us who do endurance sports and whatnot, but not that many. We should start a Facebook group or a secret sub-cult or something....

Friday night, I joined them again out in Fountain Hills for dinner. We were also joined by The Vogels, a nice couple out of Virginia, both of whom do a variety of distance races. I ended up staying out at the Fort McDowell Radison since it was closer to the course and meant I didn't have to go all the way home to Tempe then back into the heart of Fountain Hills. Cheap... surprisingly classy. I'd totally stay there again. I wanted to eat their bath soap.

Saturday, I began my weekend like I always do: got up at 3:30 in the morning, thew on my Jesus costume, and went to Starbucks to grab a pre-race mocha. Obviously, people were pretty excited to see their savior at 4:45 in the morning. (It turns out, when you're a Jewish dude with a beard and long hair who generally wears sandals, all you need is a white robe and a red sash and you're in business...)

Before I really knew what was happening, it was 6:00 am... race time!

I've gotta say, the race itself is totally a blur. I'll try my best to recount what happened during that 28 hours out in the desert, but due to the endless repetition of the course and the general toll this kind of thing takes on your brain, it's hard for me to say with certainty when things really went down. I should also say here that I didn't actually run in costume... I just went to the start like that. (I ran in all black, my attempt to be the Johnny Cash of ultramarathons.)

Lap one was easy. I've run out there a billion times... banged it out in around 3:00. That seemed a little fast to me at the time, but not too crazy, given my PR out there at 50k (2 loops) is 4:22 and it was perfect running weather and still really early in the race. That the thing about the Pemberton trail, though -- because it's so runnable, it sucks you in and, if you're not careful, will totally destroy you. I didn't even really stop at the aid stations.

Lap two was about the same. Took it easy... chatted with folks. One of the rad things about the format of this race -- you run around the 15.4 mile loop one way, then reverse directions and go back the other -- is that you see everyone on the course, from fastest to slowest. At this point, everyone was friendly, having fun. It was still a nice, cool, AZ morning. Towards the end of the loop, Dr. Ora joined me for a few miles and we chatted with a woman who's name totally escapes me, but she puts on races up in the Gorge by Portland. From my experience at the VT100, I'd learned that it pays to take care of foot issues earlier than later. After the the second loop, I stopped at the start / finish area for awhile and had Kachina Rescue tape up my feet and to eat a bunch of soup. Can't say enough nice things about those guys -- they're all volunteers and without them, I'm pretty sure I'd have been in real trouble. My socks were filled with dirt, so I changed 'em.

Lap three it started to heat up. I tagged along with Tricia, an aspiring Badwater runner, and Craig, some nut who's done every major crazy endurance challenge short of Barkley. He successfully defended Across the Years, a 24/48/72 hour race out in the West Valley where you run endlessly around a 300m track. I was skeptical, but his explanation made sense -- where else can you really experiment with different distance running techniques? If you want to try something new you just give it a shot... and if it doesn't work, stop for a little while, recover, and get back after it. Makes sense, right? Since it was quite warm, I took it nice 'n' slow... I pretty much powerwalked everything, mixing it up with a nice slow jog once in awhile. This, also, was Craig's suggestion... and also a good one. Running, he said, uses different muscles than walking, so the best way to avoid fatigue is to alternate.

Lap four I was still feeling good. This round, I grabbed a headlamp and headed back out. It wasn't dark yet, but I was slowing down. When I started, I'd already been out there for 14 hours, but I felt fine... especially after a nice long break at the aid station for a sock switch and a toe retaping session. It was during this time that Dave James finished in 14:20... amazing! I was like, "Awww man... I've still got 40 miles left to run!"

I was actually going a little faster than a 24 hour pace, so I knew I'd have to slow it down, but I wasn't sure how. While talking to a guy dressed as a fox, he was telling me that he'd been researching 24 hour races and was doing a run 25/walk 5 strategy, regardless of terrain. I didn't have a watch, so that wasn't really an option for me, but it worked out great for him -- I ended up seeing him finish right around 24 hours as I was headed out on my final mini loop. The sun set dramatically over the desert to the west and I kept moving, feeling good but without a particular plan as to how to proceed. On the way out, I ran for a bit with a very healthy looking coyote.

Lap five I roamed the desert alone in the middle of the night. Since it was so bright with the full moon, I didn't really need a headlamp, except for the occasional steep downhill. The pack had thinned considerably at this point, so I'd only occasionally run into other people. I pretty much walked the whole thing... it took me five hours. The most surreal moment of the race was hearing a party off in the neighborhood adjoining the park on the north side and not knowing if it was a real thing or noise from the aid station or just some weird hallucination. I actually asked some other runners if they'd heard it, too... and they had. It was real. Also real -- running into Sean Pfunder pacing Casey O'Connor somewhere out there in the wasteland. Casey took the honorable dropout at 100k... as did Fireman John, Fireman Scott, and Rainbow Brite... but all of them pretty much kicked ass out there.

Lap six I picked up my pacer, Robin. She's been my training buddy pretty much all summer and I don't know what I'd do without her. Honestly, I didn't even really think I needed a pacer... 'cuz, I mean, what's the worst that could happen out on the Pemberton trail? Man, we saw it all that night... people suffering breakdowns, running zombies, people who suddenly got huge surges of energy to push forwards... it was amazing. I had no idea that I could get that tired. At one point, I kind of started hallucinating. The moon had gone down so we were using a headlamp and I just couldn't focus on the light anymore... I just wanted to lay down and sleep. Weirdly enough, though, I popped a couple of pretzels into my mouth and everything snapped back in to focus. Without my pacer, though, I probably would have wandered off into the desert.

The 92 mark came as a relief, just as the sun came up. It just seemed like all the hills were getting taller, the aid stations further apart. The fact that it took me about 3:25 to get through the last 10 miles of the course, that really says a lot, right? I was a mess... definitely not the worst one out there -- I was still in a good mood, although extremely whiny -- but I did get passed by Karsten Solheim.... and that guy is 72 years old! (And, obviously, kind of a local badass...) "This time experience beats youth!" I yelled. Sportingly, he did say, "You know... there is something you can do about it..."

... but, really, there wasn't. It was a death march. I mean... I knew I would make it, but it was really uncool of Jamil the RD to keep moving those aid stations. I cursed him and everyone else under my breath. We saw Lane out there, running along, actually looking pretty strong. We also ran across Tricia, all messed up from going out too fast at an early part of the race. She finished... but she looked, literally like a zombie when we saw her. She barely acknowledged us as a we passed... just kind of mumbled something in response. We also saw some dude laying in the middle of the desert. What's the right thing to do in that situation? I asked him if he was ok and he was like, "Leave me alone! I'm napping!" Uhh... ok....

Eventually, a pack of three mountain bikers came barelling up and they were like, "Roig?"

... At first, I was a little stunned, partially because I'd just travelled 95 miles through two sunrises, but particularly because everyone had been calling me "Jesus" all day. It turned out to be Cheryl, Dr. Ora's tri coach rolling with her crew, out for a normal mountain bike workout on Pemberton. Very odd. They'd been dispatched to check in on me and seemed satisfied that I was in good hands. How nice is that?

That aid station was so awesome to finally see. From there it was just a slow slow slow ouch ouch ouch ouch hike back to the finish and, after 101.4 miles and 28:20:25, I was done.

At the finish line, someone was like "Run it in!" Really, who would I be kidding after taking so long?

Obviously, this was really a remarkable thing to get to do. I still kinda can't believe I ran 100 miles. Totally ridiculous.

Post-race damage is pretty minimal, considering. My right little toe is horrible, but in general, the New Balance MT100's worked out really well on that trail. Part of me seriously wonders if I should have switched to Chaco's in the last 10. It might've actually helped.... as might have gaiters, for that matter. The Kachina Rescue folks told me that they see a lot less foot damage in people who wear them; on a dusty course like that, I think it's probably a great idea if you're gonna be out there for awhile.

I weighed myself at the kennel when I went to pick up my dog. Incredibly, I weighed more or less the same as I started... but I think that's because I did a really good job with nutrition. Every lap, I would begin by filling my bottle up with Perpetuem and water. After the third lap, I did this: perpetuem at the start / finish, gatorade at the first aid station, water at the final aid station. I popped occasional SCaps as I've started to get a better feel for how those should be used, plus I ate a ton of soup and watermelon. I drank an ocean of Coke, too... love that stuff. It's no substitute for real food, I feel like it's perfectly engineered to give you quick calories your body can digest. I also ate a bunch of that Gu Rocktane and some of those Powergel things. I mostly laid off that, though.

It's hard to say what, if anything, I've learned from all this except that people are really awesome. This type of event wouldn't have happened without a ton of hard work on the part of Jamil, Nick and the Coury family, as well as all the amazing volunteers. If you read this, thank you so much!

Props to everyone who got out there and gave the Javelina Jundred a shot this year. Dunno if I'll ever run that thing again, but I'll certainly be lurking around in some capacity, either pacing or volunteering or whatever.