Now Is Enough

January is not yet over and 2012 is still rather fresh. Not too late to type out a few thoughts about running this past year, right? Mainly, I’m going to use photos to highlight some of my best memories in my running-related adventures from 2011. Over the entire year I ran 1,396 miles, a bit more than in 2010, but not as many as I would have predicted. June was my highest mileage month with 181 miles, December was my low with only 72. Best part of the year was managing to stay almost entirely injury free, except for a few minor strains, bumps and bruises.

Heading to Santa Barbara in early March, I was able to find reprieve from the Minnesota winter and rejuvenate my legs with running along the beach and in the foothills of the Santa Ynez Mountains.

My second run in the Santa Barbara area was on the Jesusita Trail along a creek, then up into the mountains and ending near Inspiration Point rewarding me with a fantastic view back towards the city and ocean.

Here’s a banana slug on the Arroyo Burro Trail. Little did I know at the time, but as the year went on I’d have several trail running experiences where I’d come to feel exactly like a slug on the trail.

Elodie, Scarlet and I on the Rattlesnake Canyon Trail. What a gorgeous spring day to be running in the wilderness with friends!

After splitting off from Elodie and Scarlet for awhile, I was able to get higher into the mountains and eventually come to some magnificent views towards the back country.

Such a narrow trail enticing one to fly along in search of adventure. Spots like this always leave me yearning for what’s over the next hill or around the next corner. There is always more to see!

Looking back towards Santa Barbara here the city is hidden beneath the marine layer fog. After running and gradually ascending into the mountains, much is clarified besides the view in various directions.

In mid April I took on my first race beyond marathon distance, the Trail Mix 50K on the trails of Hyland Lake Park in Bloomington, MN.

As usual, Sarah offered great support throughout the race. Seeing her along the way was always a boost.

This race, being my first time running more than 27 miles, presented lots of opportunity to struggle with exhaustion and dead-feeling legs. However, I always found I could keep moving and running easily, even if my pace was incredibly slow.

The 50K course featured 4 loops of 7.75 miles with the terrain getting soggier and more torn up as the day went on. Repeating the same loop time and time and time again was a major mental challenge. By the time I stopped I had my first 50K in the books with a time of 6:00:02.

In May good running friend Shannon and I found a trail race in eastern Minnesota at a privately owned farm— the Growing Green 20K. After an incredibly wet spring, we had lots of water to deal with. Several creek crossings and soggy fields got the runners completely soaked and rather muddy, but what a blast!

With only 15 competitors running the 20K, I found myself in 3rd place early on and decided to push on to see if I could manage a top 3 finish. Still feeling strong from the past month’s 50K, running hard over less than half that distance was rather easy and lots of fun on sloppy trails.

I was never able to catch up to 2nd place, but I won 3rd. First podium finish in a race since high school, but it sure helped to be part of such a small field of competitors. Still, what fun! I finished with a time of 1:48.26 for an average pace of 8:52 per mile, which seems slow, but not for that tough course and especially those sloppy trails.

WOOHOO!

Throughout the year Shannon joined me on a lot of running adventures. We ran a few races together and did several training runs throughout Minnesota on trails. She’s been a good friend, to both Sarah and I, and is one of the few people in my life that fully understands my love of trail running.

Here we are putting in some miles at Sherburne National Wildlife Refuge.

In early July I took on my second 50K and had to drop at the halfway point due to electrolyte imbalance issues related to the exertion over an incredibly tough course. Because of the Minnesota government’s failure to pass a budget, state parks were closed and the race couldn’t be held at Afton State Park as usual. Instead, the race was held at the nearby Afton Alps Ski Area, which is an incredibly hilly downhill ski area! Not only were the hills more intense than they would have been in the state park, but much of the race was back and forth across slopes which were fully exposed to the intense sun of the day. All in all a great experience as I learned more about my limits and how to fuel properly in such conditions.

Vanity Moment: I may have dropped from the race, but I’m looking good here— probably more fit at this point than any other throughout the year.

Crisscrossing the slopes at Afton Alps, baking in the sun.

Just 3 weeks after the Afton Trail Run I was back at Afton Alps for the Warrior Dash. Frankly, it was a waste of time. The crowd was huge and obnoxious, the obstacles were too easy, and the race distance was only 5K— much too short. The hardest part of the whole day was charging up some of the hills at Afton Alps and then trying to get the mud off after the race was done.

Hey, at least I got some fun photos and a few bites of muddy banana out of the deal!

In August I was part of a team running the Ragnar Relay Great River and what a METRIC SHIT-TON of fun that was! Our team, “Better than Bond Girls: Dirty Martinis”, featured 12 people split up into two vehicles. We all took turns running the 196 miles along the Mississippi River from Winona to Minneapolis, MN over a time of 30:47:54. Each runner had 3 legs, my runs covered 5.2, 9.2, and 5.9 miles. The best part was tooling along through the day and night with a bunch of fun people while occasionally running.

Here’s Erin taking on a monster climb during her first leg, about to get water dumped on her head to cool off. Cheering and supporting my teammates along the way was half the fun.

Finishing up my first leg, it was HOT that day!

The whole Dirty Martinis team finishing our Ragnar experience.

Van 2, what a fun group of folks!

In early September I got my first taste of running on the Superior Hiking Trail with the Moose Mountain Marathon. This was definitely the toughest marathon course I’ve ever taken on and that includes the Equinox Marathon in Fairbanks, Alaska. The Superior Hiking Trail features endless rocks and tree roots and almost constant elevation change as it ascends and descends the numerous small mountains along the coast of Lake Superior. Another great experience, especially since I got to share it with my buddy Curtis! Also along for the trip was Sarah, Curtis’ wife Sarah and their son Blake. The four of us had a great weekend!

Here’s Curtis and I at the first aid station. We both took a fall on that first leg of the course. Fortunately no major damage, just some scrapes on my back and knee.

At the second aid station, just past the halfway point, feeling hot and beat down, but good enough to keep going.

Nearly done, the finish line is just around the corner!

Utterly exhausted after the hardest 26.2 miles I could’ve imagined. Curtis was definitely right about this race being significantly harder than the Equinox Marathon.

Thanks for the encouragement, Sarah and Neko! That was a hard day on the trails, but worth every slow, treacherous step!

Shannon and I also found some new trails in central Minnesota, including Lake Maria State Park.

A gorgeous autumn run at Lake Maria State Park!

The Surf the Murph 25K at Murphy-Hanrehan Park in Savage, MN capped off the year’s races. The course was challenging, but quite enjoyable. The crowd was bunches of fun too, with it being Halloween weekend lots of people were wearing costumes and carrying on. I’ll definitely return someday for this race, especially since there’s a 50K and 50 mile option.

Shannon and I finished off our 2011 racing seasons with a fun 25K on gorgeous trails in great autumn weather. Hopefully next year I’ll make it back!

As I’ve mentioned before, the best part of all the running I was able to do was staying mostly injury free and having lots of truly rewarding experiences. I was able to share many of my trips with Sarah and friends. Plus, I learned a lot more about myself, what I’m capable of, and how to better prepare for long trail races. We’ll see what next year brings with my and Sarah’s daughter due to be born in early March. Whatever running and racing I get to do next year I’ll definitely be eager to take on the challenge!

Prior to the Moose Mountain Marathon I thought I was a reasonably tough, capable trail runner. I had twice successfully completed the Equinox Marathon in Fairbanks, Alaska. The Equinox has a reputation as being one of the top two or three most difficult marathons in the country. This year I’ve run a lot of trails, even completed a trail 50K in April. Sure, training has been full of ups and downs with plenty of challenges since then, but I’ve kept going and put in some decent training runs and races.

During this race up on the Superior Hiking Trail (SHT) I encountered and struggled mightily with my physical and mental limitations. Now, two days after the race, my body feels like it’s been through a meat grinder and my spirit is diminished. I’m a shell of the man I thought I was. I’ve been humbled by tough runs before, but not quite like this. Not ashamed, because I did finish and I take solace in the fact I managed to keep going all the way to the end, but the experience was completely sobering. And whether it’s wise or not, I’m disappointed by my inability to push through the difficulty.

There are no excuses, but many reasons for struggling. Mainly, my training was not up to snuff for taking on such a technical, hilly course. Central Minnesota does not have many technical or hilly trails. My weekly miles were not where they needed to be in the last few months. Since my DNF letdown at the Afton Trail Run 50K on 7/2, I slacked off for a few weeks and lost my mojo. Over the last month leading up to Moose Mountain I was starting to feel strong again, but in retrospect I see it was already too late and I hadn’t gotten the needed miles and hills to properly prepare for this endeavor.

Whatever, training is always full of challenges and lessons along the way. Heading into race weekend I had the expectation of a hard course and hoped to purposefully go somewhat easy and enjoy the scenery. For a while I was able to do that, to thoroughly enjoy the trail, camaraderie, and the challenge of an extremely technical and mountainous course. As the day went on, however, exhaustion set in like never before on a run. During a couple long, lonely sections after the halfway point I wanted little more than to lie down and shut my eyes. I hadn’t slept well the night before, but that’s typical for me coming into a big race. The way I was dragging you’d think I hadn’t slept in a week.

Already I’ve received encouraging words from nice folks who know completing any substantial distance on the SHT is an accomplishment, and I realize there’s truth in that. However, a big part of why I’m disappointed is because I lost my will to fight about two thirds of the way through on Saturday. This is the third time in three long races where I’ve come face to face with serious doubts and have mentally acquiesced before finishing.

At the Trail Mix 50K I persevered, continued to run easily for much of the latter stages and eventually finished. Similarly, the fight was gone 2/3 of the way into Trail Mix and I was moving like a slug. At Afton I dropped from the race, probably wisely, as I ran into an electrolyte imbalance in the heat and was approaching issues with dizziness and cramping. This past weekend at Moose Mountain after a mostly enjoyable first half where I was able to stay positive, I reached a point where I had given in to the trail and was walking many more sections than necessary. No longer was I racing on any level, I was only moving forward because I wanted to stop. Reaching a point of negativity and a significant erosion of my willingness to struggle makes me question the value of taking on such challenges. Running fast and/or far reveals how much pain we’re willing to endure. Moose Mountain fully uncovered my weaknesses.

In the end, I completed the course! And now, two days removed, despite the soreness and fatigue, I’m already starting to look back on the experience and relish what I encountered. Ceaseless doubts and questions aside, I have few regrets! Looking back I’m even coming to understand and better accept my lack of will since 7+ hours is an hour more than I’ve ever been on my feet during an outing of any sort. Seven hours is a long time to sit on a couch, let alone cruise along a gnarly trail with few breaks.

The weather on race day was great, especially early on with cool temperatures in the morning near 60°. Clear skies all day with rather intense sun, probably reaching the mid to upper 70′s by the afternoon, which felt surprisingly hot when in the open. The forests, scenic vistas, and soothing sounds of rivers and waterfalls were a joy to behold. The race was wonderfully organized and supported. As always, fellow trail runners were awesomely encouraging and entertaining throughout. Encountering occasional 50 and 100-milers always provided a boost and helped me shove aside the pain and negativity I was grappling with. 26.2 miles on that course thoroughly kicked my ass, the thought of 50 or 100 miles is completely mind blowing! Kudos to all the runners who took on any of that crazy course!

The first half of the race was a blast. Starting out my buddy Curtis and I were caught up in a fun group of runners picking our way through endless rocks and tree roots, ups and downs, twists and turns toward the Temperance River Aid Station. The tight single-track made passing difficult, so we mostly went with the flow. On the long descent towards Temperance River fatigue was setting in and I wasn’t being cautious enough. Cruising down a mostly straight piece of dusty trail, I kicked a rock and was immediately launched into a headfirst dive. There was no way to save from falling, it was just a matter of how bad it’d be. I didn’t fight gravity and used both handheld bottles to absorb the initial crash and somehow rolled and slid along on my back for a bit. My left knee and lower back were scraped and slightly bloodied. Lots of other places were banged up and dirtied. Sitting there stunned for a moment the runners ahead asked if I was okay. I responded with a chuckle and “I think so!” Then I got up and slowly eased into a run again checking to see how everything felt. Fortunately there was no real damage, just minor scrapes and bruises. The best part of the fall was being reminded how dangerous loss of focus can be on such a trail. I remained upright the rest of the day, despite several stumbles and close calls.

Curtis and I at the Temperance River Aid Station

Reaching the aid station it was great to see my wife, Sarah, our dog, Neko, and Curtis’ wife and son. I gobbled up some tasty goodies, including Coke, which is probably my favorite nectar during long races! Sarah put some Vaseline on my scrapes for a little protection. After that it was back to the trail! Curtis had headed out a couple minutes before me and I was eager to get caught up.

Immediately back into the trail I came into a quarter mile section where I could run at a good clip. The roots and rocks were few and far between and I was finding a rhythm. Of course, it wasn’t long before more tricky sections and hills slowed my roll. Catching Curtis we ran together for a while. I got a little ahead and shortly thereafter he took his second fall of the day, after having already fallen near where I wrecked earlier. Curtis falls well and he never injured himself. This would be just another episode in a series of falls for him as he struggled to get his feet to plant where intended. I only got about three hours of sleep the night before, Curtis got none! Lack of sleep the night before a race may not affect the body much, but it certainly affects the ability to concentrate.

The rest of the way through this section of trail leading to the second aid station featured an enormous climb up Carlton Peak, certainly a tough slog that helped to quickly bring my demise. After going over the peak and coming back down an older guy and I cruised happily through a long, flat section with raised wooden planks in an area that must often get flooded. With the trail almost completely dry the boards made for smooth running. A couple relatively easy miles through this leg of the course helped to improve my mood before reaching the aid station. I got to the Sawbill – Brighton Aid Station, 13.6 miles into the race, still feeling strong. I knew my legs had already taken a righteous beating, so I hoped to eat well here and load up for the second half. Unfortunately I overate and took in too many fluids. It’s so damn hard to find that perfect balance with nutrition and hydration during a long race!

at the Sawbill - Brighton Aid Station, ready to head back out

Heading into the third big section nausea quickly set in. Besides taking in too much during the last break, I may have hit the gels a little too frequently along the way. Whatever the cause, I was reduced to a long walk even though much of this part of the course was navigable at a slow run. I’d try to run for a bit, but that’d bring the nausea roaring back. I then decided to walk it off for as long as needed in the hopes I’d recover and be able to finish strong. What was strange was how tired I began to feel while walking. I don’t know if it was all the blood rushing to my stomach in an attempt to aid digestion, but my head was in the clouds. I felt lightheaded and weak. Keeping moving wasn’t a huge problem, but I was beginning to fantasize about lying down under a tree and taking a nap. Occasionally I’d run for a while, but I was never able to feel quite right again the rest of the day.

coming into the Oberg Mountain Aid Station

Reaching the third aid station at Oberg Mountain, 19.1 miles into the course, my spirits were in the toilet. Dropping from the race was very tempting at this point. The heat of the day had set in, I wasn’t having fun anymore, and I still had 7+ miles of wildly difficult trail ahead. I told myself to not make any hasty decisions knowing negativity was clouding my judgment. Sarah helped me get some food and drink and I sat down in the shade for a few minutes. Sitting and resting quickly improved my attitude and after about 10 minutes I knew I’d continue and finish. I even began to again feel hopeful for a strong finish.

resting at the Oberg Mountain Aid Station

Back on the trail I was buoyed by thinking my next stop would be the finish line and I’d be done with this ridiculous race. Along the way down to Rollins Creek I found some short sections to run, but my legs and feet were throbbing by this point, so giving in to pain and fatigue was much more desirable than forcing myself to run. I caught a couple marathoners and briefly hammed it up with them. While running together I was feeling boisterous, shouting things like “This course ain’t no joke!” and “I guess they call it the Superior HIKING Trail for damn good reason!” We were having fun until I detoured my way down to the creek for some refreshing cool water. I splashed water on my face and head, soaked my hat and got back on the trail. Walking became more frequent from then on even though I was still capable of running the flatter sections and moderate climbs. The opportunity was wasted as I crept my way toward the big climb up Moose Mountain.

Ouch! Some of the trail up Moose Mountain was ridiculously steep. Completely unrunnable except perhaps by a mountain goat, I did my best to hike slowly. Even then, I couldn’t catch my breath. I sat down on a rock in the middle of the trail and let my swooning head settle down. A 100-miler nearly caught me here and seeing him approach turned down the volume of my personal struggle. I got back on my feet and continued moving. After Moose Mountain there was a descent, which I mostly walked since the legs were spent, and then it was up again, this time up Mystery Mountain. Quite a mystery how a once proud runner could be reduced to such a slowly oozing heap in only 20 miles!

The rest of the way to the end was little more than short spurts of running, occasionally respectable power-hiking, and lots of mindless zombie trekking. There was much swearing when I’d fail to step high enough and kick a root or rock. I began to have fun coming up with creative curses for the tripping hazards. My diaphragm was even hurting, like I had strained it with all the heavy breathing. I didn’t care, didn’t seem it’d kill me. I just kept moving slowly and eventually came out of the woods and was on the road leading to Caribou Highlands Lodge. Finishing was an absolute relief! I could finally stop running and I’m still not sure when I’ll start again, but before long I’ll be out on the trails for some more.

Official Finishing Time: 7:23:28
Place: 109 of 136 marathoners

» The rest of the photos can be found on Flickr.

approaching the finish	exhausted and glad to be done
Sarah and I after the race	Curtis and I sharing war stories
What a difference a shower, some rest and food make!

196 miles from Winona to Minneapolis, 12 runners, 2 vans, NO STOPPING! Last year when friends were posting about their exploits during Ragnar races I was very eager to give one a try. Great River follows the Mississippi north and I found a team in need of a runner through dailymile. I quickly agreed to join the team of mostly strangers, except for a few I knew from dailymile, and bided my time through the summer until August 19th finally arrived.

The night before I made my way down to the Twin Cities where teammate and van mate Erin gave me a place to crash. It was a short night as we hit the road terribly early at 5:15 with van mates Cory (Bill) and Derrick. Arriving in Winona with plenty of time to meet the rest of our team and pose for photos, we checked in, got our shirts, and readied ourselves to cheer on van one’s first runner as she started our team north.

Better than Bond Girls: Dirty Martinis

the whole team, pre-race

Our vans took turns along the whole course. Van one started us out and their six runners led the charge until the afternoon on Friday where we took over at exchange #6 somewhere in Wisconsin. By then it was hot, mightily hot, and we’d already been standing around in the sun for awhile waiting for Ruth from van one to finish off her leg. Our time to shine finally came and Erin took the slap bracelet — yes, a 1980′s style slap bracelet acted as the baton — and headed out on her steamy, hilly first leg. Erin handled her run like a champ, despite the heat and intense hill she had to fight.

supporting Erin, about to dump water on her head

Our van stopped twice to give Erin support on her leg, which turned out to be a little too much since I barely had enough time to make a porta potty stop at the exchange and then hurry back to the van to get my bottle and fuel. I was literally running from the vehicle to the exchange location since she was finishing up her run with a fury. Not a big deal since I got there in time, took the slap bracelet and headed out. Sure, my Garmin hadn’t made its satellite connection yet, but it was time to RUN!

My first leg featured 5.2 miles, lots of heat and two big hills. There was a bit of shade along the way, but not a lot. A highlight was getting blasted by squirt guns from members of another team’s van out supporting one of their runners. The cool water gave my system a much needed jolt. The best part was a one mile downhill stretch near the end I was able to fly through. Only problem was my shoes weren’t tied perfectly and all the downhill friction blistered the balls of both feet, which would provide an additional challenge later on. Finishing up I was glad to see the downhill helped pull my pace down to 7:53 mpm for the leg.

finishing up my first leg

Having finished my run shortly after 6:00 PM, all I had to do for the next several hours was cool off, change clothes, chill out and cheer on my fellow runners. It felt awesome to have a run in the books, Ragnar was really underway now! By the time our van finished up its first six runs darkness had fallen and we headed to the next major checkpoint hoping to get some rest before we again took over from van one. The next major checkpoint was at a fairground somewhere in rural Wisconsin and did have some amenities, including cold showers (which I avoided), pasta (which I was not interested in), and free coffee (which I did enjoy after some rest). Anna and I decided to try to catch some sleep in the big field that was available for tired runners. Some people had tents, but others, like Anna and I, just had a wool blanket for the ground and individual sleeping bags. I did manage to get a couple hours of fitful sleep despite the incessant cheering at the nearby exchange location, two car alarm incidents, and the light rain sporadically falling on us.

By 1:00 AM it was time to start thinking about getting ready to run again. Erin was poised and eager to take over for van 2, but it took me a little longer to get out of my own personal fog and find some mojo. Coffee and a little food helped. By the time she headed out I was feeling alert and well enough to run. Covered in nighttime safety gear — a headlamp, blinking tail light, reflective vest, and a reflective band around each ankle — I was ready to take on the darkness for 9.2 miles.

Erin again blasted through her leg like the champ she is and this time I was ready for her. Don and crew had me at the exchange with plenty of time to spare, having learned it’s better to get the next runner to the takeoff location quickly instead of spending too much time supporting the previous runner along the way. I took the slap bracelet and headed into the night, by then a light sprinkle added to the subdued splendor of the environment. The blisters were hurting, but I was able to focus on the joy of running and get beyond the pain.

Settling into the run with a comfortable 7:58 first mile, I was enjoying the rural country roads and the peace of the night. Even though I couldn’t see beyond the 20 feet illuminated by my headlamp, I knew I was surrounded by pleasant scenery. Somewhere in the second mile I encountered a long, steep hill. For awhile I didn’t know how long the hill was since I couldn’t see the top— it just went on and on. I took it as an opportunity for a short walking break and a chance to suck down a caffeinated gel.

Miles 3 through 7 were fantastic! I had warmed up and found my groove. The weather was absolutely perfect for running and I had grown comfortable with the darkness. Undulating hills the rest of the way kept the route challenging. Around the halfway point my van was waiting to see if I needed anything, but I was beyond content. Through this stretch I really felt like a competent runner who was actually racing. I passed a few people, but also got passed by a few others. The three who got by me were obviously talented runners. The first guy was cruising along at a sub-7 mpm pace and I tried to hang for a short distance before acknowledging the futility. The second guy who caught and passed me was running just beyond what was a realistic pace for me, so I chased him. What fun chasing a speedy beacon of light along country roads in the dark of night! At one point after his van stopped and gave him support, I caught his teammates and shouted over, “That som’bitch can run!” They got a big kick out of that.

Eventually I let him go and settled down while pushing through the last few miles. Working towards the finish I felt like I not only had one of the most enjoyable runs of my life, but had also done good work for the team. It felt great to be done with my 9 miles and to hand off the slap bracelet to Cory.

The next few hours were kind of a blur. Cory, Anna, Derrick and Don all had solid nighttime runs. Don’s leg brought us back into the daylight hours. Then van one took over and we got some rest at a school in Stillwater, MN. I took a decent nap on a mat in the gym. Time was moving slowly by then as my entire body and mind were rather exhausted.

Anna and I chilling out at the third major exchange before a nap

Heading to the next major exchange where we’d take over from van one for the final time and bring our team to the finish, I was eager to get going again and try to knock out my last leg. However, the sun was up and back with the same intensity from the day before. Running in the heat again was not an appealing thought.

I took off after Erin knocked out another impressive run— she’s unstoppable. Starting out I felt fine and managed a strong first three miles at 7:43, 7:51, and 8:09 mpm. The gradual decline in pace shows I had little in the tank. After that the wheels really started to wobble.

Making my way into the wonderfully scenic Battle Creek Park of St. Paul I started to feel like running wasn’t the best choice of hobby anymore. The short ups and downs felt like major maneuvers. I was exhausted, the blisters were screaming at me and all I could think about was lying down in the creek for a break. I kept moving, but it was hard. There was even a walking break— the wheels were off. I managed to make the running happen again and pick it up for the finish, but being done was the best part of this leg. Stopping felt good, but it was bitter-sweet to see our Ragnar experience winding down.

finishing up my final leg

We did good, Dirty Martinis, real good! And what a fine group of folks to rock the race with. It’s a shame I didn’t get a chance to hang with the van one crew some more, but van two had the most easy-going, fun-loving peeps a guy could hope to Ragnar with! Most amazingly, our vehicle didn’t get stinky at all. Kudos to our excellent hygiene!

our group finish