Thirty-ish to Fifty Miles

I just finished the Silver Rush 50 up in Leadville.  The good news is I survived my first 50-mile run.  The less-good news is I'll have to run twice that distance next month, as my daughter Savannah so helpfully pointed out to me all the way from Australia.  As an aside, she also noted that I could improve the aesthetics of this blog by posting pictures of her:

Savannah in Prison

Her crime:  This Sock Monkey outfit.

Anyway, I spent last Saturday, the day before my 50-mile run, volunteering at an aid station during the Silver Rush 50 Mountain Bike Race, a 50-mile mountain bike race along the same course as the next day's 50-mile run.

Sampling the Aid Station menu

It made for a long day right before my race, but it was well worth it because I learned a lot by helping the riders.  The riders stopped at my aid station twice:  outbound after thirteen miles and then again inbound after thirty-four miles.  Because I saw them early and late in the race, I was able to notice the effects the increasing fatigue had on their thinking and functioning, and it was enlightening.  By the return leg, many of the riders didn't know and/or couldn't communicate what they needed as they rode into the aid station:

Me, to incoming rider:  "What do you need?" 

Typical rider:  "Gasp... nothing, man, I'm good... I'm good.  Gasp... I just need a break for a minute."

Me, after I realized their brains were malfunctioning:  "How's your water?"

Rider:  "Oh...uh... I'm out.  I really need water."

Me:  "Have you eaten anything?  Here, eat a banana."

Rider:  "Uh... no, I haven't eaten in a while... Yeah, I really need some food."

Me:  "How's your salt/electrolytes?"

Rider:  "I'm out and cramping pretty bad.  I really need some salt."

Me:  "Do you have enough GU/gel for the next section?"

Rider:  "Oh...uh... I'm out.  I need some more."

The lesson for me (and my pacers and crew chief) was clear:  at some point during the 100-mile race, I will need my team to do most of the thinking and decision-making for me.  This lesson was confirmed the next day as I felt my own brain starting to get mushy during the 50-mile run.

I spent Saturday night at Charles Bybee's house in Leadville.  He's a friend from Denver (and a soon-to-be FIVE time "Leadman") who spends so much time training and competing up in and around Leadville that he bought a house up there last year to cut down on his travel expenses.  We had a great pasta dinner with some of his running/riding/triathlon buddies who were in town for various competitions and/or recreational activities.  They were an impressive, but unassuming and humble group of folks, and I had a good time getting to know them (even though I had to go to be early because my early race the next morning).

My race on Sunday was great -- beautiful course, good weather (even the 20-minute rain/hail shower felt pretty good on a hot day) and great folks (I ran into a dozen of my training camp friends on the course).  The course was an out-and-back to the south and east of Leadville through several old gold and silver mines with four distinct climbs up to 12,000'.

Silver Rush 50 Course Map

Silver Rush 50 Elevation Profile

Here are some pics from the course:

Ready to go, more or less

Sunrise over the mountains

Perfect morning

Keep on Keepin' on

Steady climb up the pass

Great views of Leadville and Turquoise Lake

One of the many old mines throughout the course

Done

Overall, the race went well and was a great learning experience for me (and for Crew Chief Molly who practiced crewing for me at the aid stations).  I set a very conservative goal of 12 hours because I knew that whatever goal I set, I would undoubtedly try to reach it, even if that meant pushing myself too hard (recall my efforts to reach my seven-hour goal at the Dirty Thirty).  With less than five weeks to go before the 100-mile race, I didn't want to risk injury, so the 12-hour goal was intended to force me to slow down.

Well, that plan didn't work too well because I finished the race an hour and a half faster than planned in 10:34. 

I'm not disappointed that I came in faster than I wanted because I don't feel like I really pushed it at any point during the whole race.  My pace and effort were fairly consistent throughout.  In fact, it only took me about 15 minutes longer to run the second half than it did the first half.  That's a pretty good sign, I think.

One big problem I had was my stomach.  Right from the start, it didn't feel right, like it didn't seem to want to digest anything.  I spent the first six hours of the run trying to get it to settle down.  Finally, I figured out that the problem was probably over-hydration resulting in a mild case of hyponatremia (more ominously known as "water intoxication").  I think I drank way too much water the afternoon and night before the run and flushed my system of sodium and other electrolytes.  I didn't realize this initially because my urine was dark and festively-colored all morning until about four hours into the race -- which, I now know, was the result of some pre-race vitamins/minerals I ate and not the result of what I mistakenly thought was my increasing dehydration.  However, not knowing that at the time caused me to pound water throughout the first half of the race to fend off my "dehydration."  This, coupled with my under-consumption of electrolyte pills, put my system way out of whack and essentially shut down my digestive system.

Only after the vitamins/minerals cleared through my system and my urine turned as clear as the Rocky Mountain spring water they use to brew Coors beer did I figure out that I wasn't dehydrated at all.  I was over-hydrated and flushed of electrolytes.  Immediately, I upped my supplementation of electrolytes and cut my water intake dramatically.  Within about an hour, my stomach settled, the swelling in my hands and feet decreased, and I was able to run the last part of the race without that annoying feeling of wanting to throw up with every step.  Here I am after I finally started "feeling pretty good":

However, I quickly realized that my now-relieved stomach discomfort had been a valuable distraction from the pain I now noticed in the achilles tendon/heel area of both my feet. With my stomach settled, my mind was free to register the heel stab I felt with every step.  So, I spent the final few hours dealing with this issue.  This heel problem had been bugging me for several months, but it had been hovering only around a "2" or "3" on the pain scale.  It grew to about a "5" during the race, but stabilized as a dull ache.  Eventually, it became such a constant throb that it almost went kind of numb, thankfully, so I was able to push on with only mild discomfort.

That pain is undoubtedly caused by some minor achilles tendinitis (between my increased volume over the last eight months and my hill focus for the last four, it's no surprise).  I'm hoping some NSAIDs will help, and I'm going to try some prophylactic taping to see if that will reduce the stress.  I actually tried taping my achilles last night during my weekly Taco Run, and the initial results are very promising. 

The major drawback to this is that in order to tape my lower legs effectively, I'll need to shave them, which means for the next few weeks, I'll look like one of "those guys."  You know, the guys who meticulously shave every inch of their bodies, who insist that their lack of body hair measurably improves their performance (at such big events as their recent family reunion's three-legged race), and who deny (without solicitation and a little too zealously) that male body shaving is any indication of suppressed non-hetero tendencies.  Well, these are my people now.

So, after my first 50-mile run, I feel paradoxically both more confident and more apprehensive.  I mean, I felt pretty good after 50, like I could have gone farther.  I didn't necessarily want to at that moment, but I could have.  That gives me confidence.  But at the same time, those 50 miles were not easy.  And I know that a 100-mile race is far more challenging than just two 50's put together.  So, after feeling the effects of 50 miles on my body and mind, I'm more than a little apprehensive about the unknowns that lie in those uncharted final 50 miles. 

Then again, that's the whole reason I'm doing this.