No Hibernation: How one trail athlete deals with winter

Icebearded after a snowy trail run; barefoot for annual Best family shoeless snow pic

Endurance athletes whose key races fall in the warmer part of the year meet the challenges of winter in several ways.  Some consider it an off season and slip into torpor (or maybe say they're focusing on strength training but really they're mostly hibernating, and that's ok).  Some embrace it as their favorite season and put in huge base training, either continuing with their primary sport or adopting the various and fantastic winter sports as cross training.  Some hate it and still put in huge base training.  (I think it was Frank Shorter --or maybe the ficticuous Bruce Denton ficticiously or factually quoting Shorter -- who said there's nothing else to do in winter but put in volume.)  I have a foot in each of these camps.  The disciplines that I train for now, trail running, mountain running and mountain biking, are May through October sports and I take my off season in November, so by December I'm restless and I grind the gears back into full training mode for winter.  As a road runner in my 20's I tolerated winter and used it as an opportunity to put in fast, solo long runs on the roads, but now in my 30's I've shifted to a trail focus and so winter is more of an obstacle.  Winter woods are beautiful but the trail dissapears under snow and ice.  The challenge becomes traction and strength but the skill element of negotiating the terrain is largely removed.  Only recently have I tried to embrace the challenges of winter. Here's my approach. (Disclaimer - your results may vary.)

General Philosophy

I use winter as a time to get ready for a long racing season that stretches from April through October.  This doesn't mean a block of unusually huge base training - I put in about the same volume of running in terms of hours as I do in Spring/Summer/Fall, but mileage is a bit less because snowy trails and lots of uphill treadmill are necessarily slow.  Winter sees less biking because I'm only going to ride 4-6 hard hours per week if I can be on bare dirt and technical trail.  

I'm taking a different approach to volume in 2018 in that I'm focusing on big volume (14+ hours) about 1 week per month, coinciding with vacation from either UMass or my high school gig - weeks when I have more time to train.  Other weeks will be more quality focused, with 3 hard workouts and less total volume (~10 hours), leaving more time for work and providing a different training stimulus. Down weeks (7-9 hours) come once per month or as needed, not just in winter but year-round.

What's really different about my winter vs. spring/summer/fall training is that I focus on developing a big uphill running base that will prepare me for near race-effort uphill workouts in spring, which in turn prepare me for summer racing. More on that below.  For now I'll break down my winter training into outdoor vs. indoor activities. 

Outside

Obviously the point is to stay outside, preferably in the woods, as much as possible. If I wanted to be an indoor athlete I'd be a swimmer or something. Or an indoor track hamster. Still, I'm not an "always outside" diehard like some of my friends and competitors.  I respect that philosophical position immensely, but if there's work that I can do inside that will prepare me better for the rigors of summer racing, I'll do it, especially if others find it unappealling. At the risk of self aggrandizing, I like to say that I'll do inside what you will not, so that next summer I will do in the mountains what you cannot.  Anyway, I stay outside about 5 days/week in winter.

Running

Western Mass sometimes finds itself with bare trails in winter, but mostly we do have snow, at which point I run snowy trails about 3 days per week.  As a road runner I avoided snowy trails because a road runner needs a monotonous, long stride, but as a trail runner I see the benefit (physically and psychologically) of slogging through snowy trails.  It's not the same stride as summer trail running: with traction severely limited, pushing off hard with calves and achilles doesn't work, so you end up using your hips more. And, if there's enough snow, the technical aspect of running is mostly absent, save for hard/icy snow conditions.  I don't run in snowshoes.  I adhere to a "least restrictive foot environment" at all times: I wear the most minimal footwear that I can handle, and in winter that means studded trail shoes (right) or my regular trail running shoes, Inov8 XTalons, which I prefer over the studded Inov8's as my foot is more comfortable in this low-profile minimal shoe.  Shunning snowshoes, I can't run trails in a foot of snow, but 6" or less on the trails and I'm game.  I do a bit of road running: to and from trailheads and the treadmill, and the occasional all-road run when my legs need a break from battling snowy trails, when training partners request it, or when I rarely decide to attempt "fast" running.  I do some short/fast hill reps on a nearby paved hill; not as much as I should, but I'm committed to them this winter. Finally, I do a long run once per week year-round, and in winter these are 2- 2.5 hours on trails when possible, or 2 hours dirt roads when I need a break or am bullied into it. (In warmer months long runs are exclusively performed on hilly trails.)

Mountain biking

Like trail running, I've been slowly relaxing the requirements for what constitutes "rideable" trail conditions.  I don't have a fat bike.  I do see the utility in this tool, especially on packed snowmobile trails. But I have zero interest in road biking and a trail completely covered in packed snow is basically a road through the woods -- very little user input required in terms of bike handling.  That said, I'm trying to stay on trails as much as possible.  Just tonight I threw on some new studded tires (left) which while I write this are wheezing air as the Stan's sealant works overtime to plug the tiny holes the tire came blessed with from the factory. (I'll never again ride Schwalbe tires on dirt because they shred like pulled pork, but I was willing to try their studded winter tires as they have rave reviews).  Still, I can't ride through deep snow even with studs, and I'm limited to temps above 25 as my body can't (or my gear is insufficent to) keep my hands and feet warm at colder temps. 

Indoors

Treadmill hillclimbs

My most important indoor training is on the treadmill. January through March, I use the treadmill 2-3x per week for uphill-only workouts. I continue these 1x per week throughout the year, but in warmer months my 2nd weekly uphill-focused workout (there are always at least 2) is on trails or sometimes our local paved "mountain" road climb.  I've posted about some of these bread 'n butter workouts before - Mt Toby Phoneline repeats, for example. These workouts are probably too hard on paper and really serve as confidence boosters and mental toughness building.  Anyway, my weekly treadmill climbs in winter come in 2 flavors:

1) 3-4 miles at 15% grade, at 45-60 min race effort.  In January these begin as 3-4 one-mile intervals and by March they're 3-4 miles continuous.

2) Longer climbs averaging 12%, at goal Mt. Washington Road Race pace + 45 seconds.  So, these are tempo runs.  The first half is moderate and the second half is run a bit faster and feels way harder.  I start these in January at about 3-4 miles and aim to get to 7.5 miles (full Mt Washington race distance) by March, by which point it's a 4600', 1 hr 10 min workout, race effort by the end.  The goal is simply to build uphill endurance and prepare for specific, race-effort workouts in April and May-usually 5 miles averaging 12% grade, at Mt. Washington race effort. 

Treadmill hillclimbs build many tools you need for running up mountains: mental toughness in that you're bored as hell and have to focus without convenient distractions (I don't listen to music or watch TV), huge fitness (you're at threshold effort or harder for up to an hour or more, impossible in a flat-ground workout), heat training (70 degree air temps in winter and lack of any air flow mean you're building up enormous endogenous heat), and of course uphill-specific neuromuscular development. I can't understand why some really serious mountain runners don't do these workouts. Unless you live next to a mountain with a 4000'+ climb, this is the only simulation for summer mountain racing. Even if you train by running up big mountains, the suffering you'll endure on the climb is attenuated by the prospect of running back down, while I can (and do) often end treadmill workouts in a puddle of despair.  I'd argue that anyone racing Mt. Washington without doing these workouts is direspectfully unprepared, even if you beat me. I digress. 

Bike trainer

Not much to say here. Because some (or much) of my winter biking isn't on trails, much of it is on my 1996 Specialized road bike on a trainer in my basement. It's outfitted with flat bars and mountain bike clipless pedals. I watch race videos or Phish concerts (haha yes laugh it up). Here I give in to the temptations of distraction and entertainment. 

Strength training

Michaela and I have slowly outfitted our basement into a legit weight room with a rubberized floor, olympic bar, pullup bar, etc. All we're missing is a suitably powerful sound system for cranking the type of music I need to make me angry while lifting heavy things -- stuff like Alice in Chains.  (I'm working on a solution to this problem.) In winter I lift weights twice per week, joined one of those days by Michaela and her brother.  In racing season I usually only lift once per week, so winter is the time for gains.  I focus on squats, single leg squats, deadlift, pullups, pushups, core, and a barefoot foot strengthening routine.  I'm a few pounds heavier than I was as a road runner but my weight is still on this side of helpful for trail running and mountain biking, disciplines which forgive (even reward) a bit of added strength. Lastly, perhaps once per week I hack my way through a yoga routine with Michaela, who is much more bendy and Yoga-y than me.  This is necessarily performed upstairs next to the wood stove, for added bendy-ness. 

Really though, in winter I'm just biding my time waiting for the snow to melt.  Happy winter training, however you embrace it!

2017 racing season reflections

It's been a long time since I blogged about my running and biking. But if training like this is still worth doing at 35 years old, then it's also worth reflecting (even publicly) from time to time.  So... read on if you can handle the self indulgence and probably typos too, beacuse I don't have time to edit this!....

Summer
I managed to win my first two mountain races of the year-- Wachussett and Ascutney, short paved courses up these mountains-- but with times slower than years past. This wasn't a problem, nor much of a surprise... whether due to age, training or both, my VO2 max probably isn't what it once was.  This proved to have little bearing upon my big goal for early summer, the Mt. Washington Road Race, which at over 1 hour is long enough to forgive a lack of top-end aerobic capacity, favoring instead the specific ability to clear lactate while running straight uphill nonstop.  I'll avoid the details because I feel increasingly protective of my training, and it could drone on forever, but the short version is I figured out how to train for and race Mt. Washington.  On my 3rd try, I scored a slight PR in 1:08:35, good enough for 6th place (results).  I really feel like this was my best result: 6th against that field feels legit, and it was the warmest (slowest) day of the 3 years I've run it. I still want to run 1:06, and on a perfect day I think I would have. So, I will likely try again, though part of me wants to be done with this race because it is a devestatingly intimidating and painful challenge.

Scott Mason Photography

Bike for Bovines. Photo- Scott Hussey.

My favorite mountain bike race was a week later-- Domnarski Farm.  I raced Category 2, unsure if I had become fast enough to race Cat 1.  I won by 5 minutes I think, catching people from the waves in front of me and getting hung up on them in the singletrack but still setting a Cat 2 course record.  I
was "encouraged" by several in attendance (and later on Facebook) to move up to Cat 1, which I did for my late August race, Bike for Bovines.  The longer courses of Cat 1 racing seem to suit me and I finished 2nd in the 30-39 Cat 1 group, with the 4th fastest overall Cat 1 time, 2 seconds out of 2nd overall.

Oh, I should add that UMass brought back their old mountain bike race, across the street from my house, in April.  That course didn't suit me but it was fun as hell.

Fall

Just as in 2016, I worked myself into great shape by August.  And just as in 2016, this did not result in multiple satisfying race results.  This stung even more this year than last. After the Mount Washington Road Race in June, I averaged 14 hours/week of running and mountain biking, with lots of quality...15,000' feet of climbing, hard workouts, and hard rides each week.  This proved to be a bit overzealous and I aggravated an Achilles

RTTVT. Photo- Lee Krohn.

tendon problem, forcing me to skip my August mountain running race (Race to the Top of Vermont) and focus only on the bike portion of this event, in which I finished 4th, with some dissapointment.  With lots of arrogance I was sure I'd win this race. Not even close! I'm a runner who mountain bikes; I'm not a cyclist.  Aaron Stone was the most impressive of the day, faring well (top 10) in the run, racing back down the mountain, and riding up in the bike race, following in Josh Ferenc's footsteps (which are not easy steps I can tell you from experience).

In September I got healthy and kept training.  Well, my Achilles got healthy, but a cold and sinus infection coupled with being busy (wah wah, lots of complaints here) set me back a step.  Actually all of that was fine- the problem was that when I lined up for my last mountain running race of the year at the Race to the Summit (Stratton Mountain) in October, I didn't focus.  I didn't want to hurt.  Halfway up the mountain, in 2nd place, Ferenc passed me and...I just let him.  Spending mental energy on so many other things this fall (like work-- imagine that) left me unfocused.  It's no excuse, I just got my ass kicked. Third overall, 1 minute slower than last year in a short race (23 min).  We did have a great time with the winner, a Latvian (now American) 4:01 miler, on the right of this picture.

At least then I could focus on the race I looked forward to most: Circumburke, a mountain bike race over a 27 mile loop around Burke Mountain in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont.  The course was about half doubletrack and fireroads, half super-flowly new-age style singletrack.  LOTS of climbing-- 3,500' feet of it.  I went hard from the start.  Constant lactate in the legs; scary at minute 1 of a 2.5 hour race.  But I felt better and better as the race wore on and was top 10 (and moving up slowly) at mile 16, when I hit a waterbar on a fast descent and blew out my tire. I'm to blame here; higher tire pressure could have prevented this.  Three minutes later I had fixed the flat by putting in a tube, but one CO2 cartridge wasn't enough, and eventually another rider gave me one so I could get back on my bike.  I lost 11.5 minutes, spent the next 10 riding modestly, and then got back up to near-race effort.  Those 11 minutes cost me, at least on paper and by doing maths, a 6th place finish. Factoring in the time I spent pedaling easy and feeling sorry for myself, I potentially could have finished 3rd.  But wishes are ponies and that didn't happen, and my result was 20th (out of ~385- results) so I have to own that.

Circumburke Start. credit: Burke Mountain

Reflections on the year

Other than 3 race results I'm happy with-- Mt Washington, Domnarski and Bike for Bovines-- 3 great things happened this year because of my racing.

1) I was fortunate to test my limits with great athletes, many of whom I now call friends.  The mountain running and mountain biking scenes are loaded with positive energy.  I can't even begin to summarize these stories in this post, though you've probably seen some of them on my Facebook, as I can't help but share the overwhelmingly positive vibes that these people have given me. You know who you are!  From the races, to the big training runs I've done with you guys this year....thank you.  And thank you to my team, acidotic RACING, for your support and all that you do for endurance sport.

Race weekend camping with Stoneman and Wifey. 

2) I had the luxury (and it is a luxury!) of spending LOTS of time with two of my favorite people: my
wife Michaela, and Aaron Stone, both of whom joined me for many of these races, which really are weekend adventures in the woods and mountains.  The memories from this year, and the last few years with them, are my fondest from all of my competitive years.

3) I confirmed a hypothesis this year, one that will keep me motivated for a few more years at least: Mountain running and mountain biking at the highest levels possible (for me) are wholly compatible, even complimentary.  I could (and may) write a post concerning my training philosophy here.  I don't think that mountain bike training is compatible with, say, road running, but for the running races I do now, these things go together like peas and carrots.

My dad reminded me last night that 35 is past your prime for mid-distance endurance sport.  Of course I know this is true-- or at least, 35 is the upper-end of prime time.  I've always said that when I no longer get faster at a discipline I'll stop, and I've been doing this, switching first from road running to trail and mountain running, and most recently placing more emphasis on mountain biking.  I'll have some of the same goals in 2018 as I've had the last few years, but I'll set a few new goals too.

 I can't wait to get back to hard training again, because this stuff makes me feel alive.

Racing 2016, part 2

A final missive on running and racing 2016.

Summer mountain racing is my favorite season.  In fact, these are the only races that really motivate me now.  But I did't perform to quite the standard I'd hoped for this summer.  In the interest of keeping my trade secrets*, it suffices to say that by August I had made some adjustments to my training and I was PR'ing in key workouts (which again are trade secrets, unless you ask in which case I'll probably tell you).  A jump in fitness makes the daily escape to the woods even more enjoyable- you're more locked in to the trail and to your primal nature-- and it makes a guy like me excited to test himself in competition.  Especially at 34...being in PR shape in your mid-30's is something to grab hold of.  Rage against the dying of the light, etc. 

*In addition to what's on Strava, I'll happily divulge this much about the training adjustments I've made: Slightly less running (achieved through cutting out some fluff) and more mountain biking. 

Mansfield Double Up

For my late summer race I chose the adventurous Mt. Mansfield Double Up, an epic and technical 3-hour adventure over Vermont's highest peak (twice), a race for me to experience more than really compete in.  I don't have the skills to run trails like this-- I hiked probably 80% of this course.  But it was too tempting to pass up, a rare, first-of-its-kind event.

My recollections of this day have already become shrouded in nostalgia and misty fog, as the summit itself was during the race, and I don't think I have the words to describe what it felt like to move hard on this terrain: Epic? Free? Intimidating? All of these.  Also, humbling: I was strong on the later climbs but the technical hiking/running/scrambling wasn't my bag and I got my ass kicked by 14 people.  Two men put on a clinic--Ferenc and some Elf who skipped by me on the terrifying Subway trail, pictured below; it was impressive.  (This trail is where I caught myself from falling off the mountain and decided there and then to "just finish.")  The weekend was fantastic, spent with Stoneman and Ferenc, and I finally got to try Heady Topper.

The subway trail on the side of Mansfield's western ridge;
several thousand foot drop to the right. (Guthookhikes.com)

Unfortunately the nervous, downhill rock-slab shuffling that I had to employ to get down the mountain (twice) wrecked my quads and I missed what likely would have been my best race of the summer: the Race to the Top of Vermont, held the weekend after the Double Up on the same mountain but up the toll road.  I know from a few workouts in August that I could have competed for the win but my pathetic technical downhilling at the Double Up left me too wrecked to try.  (I even planned The Double-- the running race, then a screaming descent back down, then racing back up in the bike race.)  Through September, workouts continued to progress and I worked myself up into the best shape I've seen in many years, but due to various factors I didn't get to race at all.  Even now, in December, this stings.

Mt. Monadnock

I refuse to carry my phone when I run so
I pilfered this picture from nhmagazine.com. 

Yeah, this isn't a race, but a quasi- FKT (fastest known time) attempt.  This 3100' peak is 75 minutes from my house, I've never climbed it, it's the most-climbed mountain in North America (#3 in the world), and it has a very legit and well-tested FKT from 2001.  Stoneman and I rolled up there on a Monday in early October in hopes of getting a day without crowds (mostly successfully, except for the Mom that I shoved aside when her 8-strong brood wouldn't move).  

With some minimal research and a short warmup I hammered the trail as best I could.  The first third of this ~1.8-mile trail was runnable; the second third became steeper and had lots of rock step-ups, partially runnable; and the last third was steep, unrunnable exposed slab, as nasty as any of the other alpine summits in New England, with a few flatter sections of boulder-hopping.  All of it was rather wet, making traction a problem, and I was predictably ill-equipped for the techy rock hopping near the top.  The record of 24:44 was safe-- I summited in 27:30 and Aaron hit 33:04.  With dry rock (it was wet enough that we had to hike 75% of the route down) and more familiarity with the best lines (I had lost some time looking up for blazes and routes through the rock) I could probably get under 26 minutes.  But that last minute-plus to beat the record will require more skills and less fear on those rock-hopping sections.  The views up top were awesome and this was a fantastic way to spend a Monday but I was thinking ahead to a future attempt.

North Face Race to the Summit

This well-kept secret is a 2.1-mile blast up southern Vermont's Stratton Mountain via ski slopes and service roads.  Ferenc was not thrilled to see me in the parking lot (this was his well kept secret and solid payday, for several years running) but we warmed up together and it's always good to see this guy.  The short and direct course took us into the clouds, which by partway up served to mask the lead I was developing as well as the shrill anaerobic hell that comes with 22 minutes of flat-out mountain running.  This was my most confident race of the year-- short, all uphill, immediate suffering with no time for doubt or slow fatigue.  It's not often I can beat national class dudes so this was alot of fun.  We ran back down and enjoyed peak-foliage Vermont views, like tourists.  No, not like tourists, not at all, actually.

Mt. Toby Trail Race
My local trail race.  In 2013 I put up a good time and I mistakenly thought I could chase the course record this year.  However, despite several hard climbs, this trail race is fast, with mostly good footing.  It benefits someone who has maintained a long fast stride, which I haven't done these past few years, and despite hard interval training this fall I wasn't comfortable running near 6 minute pace for almost 90 minutes.  I won but put up a time 5 minutes slower than last time.  If I really want to run fast trail races, I'll have to build long tempo running back into my training, and I really really hate that stuff.

After a 6 week off-season consisting of 50% training volume I am now working back towards full-tilt.  Unfortunately this coincides with the onset of winter, which tends to push me back onto the roads more than I'd like, so motivation is harder to come by.  But the running goals I have these days will be more elusive as I push into mid and then late 30's, so I will continue getting out the door even if I'd rather just get fat.

Racin': Summer Part 1

I thought that maybe I'd sworn off writing race reports, but I suppose that investing all this time into running means it's also worth processing that running, maybe even with written words.  Plus, for the handful of you who actually read this stuff (thanks!!), I guess this is no worse than Keeping Up with The Kardashians (is that still a show?)...at least I'll condense this into one post to minimize the bloat.

Preparation: Winter and Spring
Since I adopted an obsessive focus on mountain racing in 2014, my training for these races begins in earnest in January.  This winter I managed to stay on the trails a bunch, even in the snow (though we didn't have much), and that was a rad development.  (I even got in a few trail runs with the force of nature that is Josh Ferenc.)  Shedding the sallow shell of a lifelong road runner (ooh, nice alliteration Drew!) will, at some point, mean learning how to run trails in the snow.  This winter didn't require snowshoes, not really, but we'll see how I fare when a real winter hits.   The weekly long run with my boys Matteo and Stoneman was in the woods when possible but sometimes stuck to the roads.  Training also included a short "fast" workout of some kind, though these were often sacrificed for recovery (something I'd later regret).  My key workout, though, in winter and spring is a treadmill hillclimb.  I picked this up from Eric Blake who is one of the country's (if not the world's) best uphill runners.  Basically, crank up the incline and run near anaerobic threshold pace for 30-60 minutes--which not coincidentally is the effort that you'll run for most of the Mt. Washington Road Race, which averages 12% grade.  In 2014 and 2015 I ran 5-7 mile tempos at 10-12%, which became race effort in the last few miles every time, and I did this from January right through the summer mountain racing season.  These were brutal and I decided that they were doing more harm than good.  So, this winter I decided I'd scale them back a bit, avoiding full race effort, and instead focus on working inclines of 14-15%, starting with workouts chunked into 2 mile segments and working up to 5 mile tempos.  This approach was hit and miss; I had some balls-out fantastic workouts and some blowup deathmarches on the treadmill.  I wasn't sure what to make of my fitness.

Come May most of my running other than the treadmill workout and the too-infrequent fast workouts were on trails, my mountain bike rides were always 2 hours and rather serious, I was lifting heavier weights than I have since I was 21, and I had a decent outing in my cornerstone 4x Mt. Toby workout.  But still, the treadmill workouts had me wondering what I could do come the uphill races of June and July, and I still had trouble recovering from one workout to the next.  To illustrate what I now view as "normal" fatigue: I can't walk in the morning.  My achilles tendons and calves take about 30 minutes to function, as in, move at all.  To let the dog out requires stepping down 2 stairs, which I do while holding onto the wall.  In short: I was training at my limit, per usual...there was nothing more I could do to get ready for the season.

May: Soapstone Mountain Trail Race

won some steel pints.  photo by Scott Livingston.

I didn't race until May.  This should have been the first real test of my fitness and I headed to this ~13.5 mile trail race with intentions of setting a course record, a good mark set by regional mountain/trail/road star Jim Johnson.  This was not to be, largely because my homeboy Matteo and I, leading the race after the initial blazing dirt road mile, followed the wrong arrows into the woods.  Yes, the entrance to the trails was marked in two directions.  This pissed me off incredibly.  Five of us spent 7 minutes off course, and upon returning, Matteo and I spent probably 2 miles passing the entire field (including walking up the steepest climb behind some folks with headphones on) and generally deciding whether or not to re-engage race effort.  Eventually I worked back up to 95% effort and passed the field, winning in ~1:50, not knowing if I could have broken the record of 1:36.  Dammit.  But, a good day with Matteo (who finished 2nd) and Stoney, and really one of only a few times I've "raced" a pure trail course, which is rather silly.  I've got to do more trail races that aren't just up mountains.

results

June: Ascutney Mountain Race

from Wifey's hike, while I raced. What a nice mountain.

This staple of the USATF-NE Mountain Series falls 6 days before Mt. Washington.  This is probably not a coincidence as it is almost exactly half of the bigger mountain-- 12% for 3.7 miles.  This year I ran slower than the last 2 years, finished 2nd to a guy who I think just moved back to New England and so I wasn't expecting him, and left feeling crushed by the prospect of running up Mt. Washington against world-class runners with what was apparently subpar fitness.  No matter...it was a fun weekend of camping with Stoneman (he's a regular feature here, eh?) and Wifey, and the best part was hiking around on the summit trails, in the fog the evening before.  Alpine woods (especially on mountains in New England) are a special place.  As for the race, shake it off and try not to cry about the pain to come in 6 days.

June: Mt. Washington Road Race

...and the pain did come.  I spent the 6 days between Ascutney and Washington being a nervous wreck, wondering how I'd handle the pain.  Jesus, this is the most psychologically miserable race I've ever run, and this year I didn't have the benefit of ignorance.  I wanted to improve upon my 1:08:41 (or so) 11th place finish from 2015.  In January I set out with a 1:05-1:06 goal but at the starting line I wasn't sure.  My workouts, and Mt. Ascutney, made me doubt myself.  I ran the same exact first half as last year (well, 5 seconds slower) but felt incredibly limited in my aerobic capacity over the second half.  The pivotal mile for me is 5-- the dirt road section.  It was my slowest in 2015 and this year I ran even slower...30 seconds slower.  I almost quit and walked.  It was a low moment and I questioned my toughness.  Here I was caught and passed by a few guys I thought I could run with.  I rallied a bit for the last mile of this 7.6 mile race but finished in 1:09 and change.  It was good enough for 8th place, which on paper is great for this world-class event, but I knew it wasn't all that.  But still.... a great weekend hanging out with Stoney and a bunch of other high class dudes on a badass mountain.  Dont' forget this privilege, I remind myself.  Matt Lipsey's simple mantra has been in my head since we pumped each other up pre-race: "Run as hard as you can on this day."  Yes, that's all you can ask of yourself.

Joe Viger's epic photo from 2015, looking down on the race course. 

I have lots of thoughts about the unique challenge posed by this race, some of which I'm investigating in an honest-to-goodness study of heart rate data from runners in this and other races.  Mostly, I'm convinced that the altitude effects* on this mountain--which in theory are quite real almost right from the start--render all of us sea-level runners hugely disadvantaged to the Rockies folks who show up.

(*I'll have lots more to say on this in a paper I hope to write this fall and I'll post the highlights here. But lots of people seem incredulous that altitude is a factor in this race, so for now, let's get one thing straight: oxygen levels drop linearly beginning at sea level, so in theory, any gain in altitude will have an effect on how much oxygen reaches your muscles.  A controlled treadmill test (link to abstract ) demonstrated that this is true in practice as well.  Runners' VO2-max decreases linearly with altitude, beginning right at sea level. By mile 2.5 or so, a sea level runner at the Mt. Washington Road Race is experiencing a 6% decrease in VO2-max relative to his/her sea level performance, while his altitude- adapted competitors face much less of a drop.  By the last half mile of this race VO2 max has dropped by over 12% vs. sea level values.)

results

July: USA Mountain Running Championships (Loon Mountain Race)

the start. borrowed from http://misquamicutrunner.blogspot.com/

This glorious race, which I've run 4 years in a row now, is hosted by my team acidotic RACING and played host to the USA Champs in 2014.  The start and finish change a bit every year but the meat of the course is the same.  I won't rehash the course description, as my 2014 and 2015 recaps already went over that (2015 report here ), but the race played out similarly to the 2014 championships:  tons of folks sprinted off the line like they weren't running up a goddamn mountain;  I sat in ~30th place, maybe 35th, when we finished the initial climbing and entered the woods portion, on the XC trails;  I held my own in here, not really gaining or losing positions, and was determined to do most of my work when the real climbing began, around mile 3 of this 6.2 mile race.

photo by Snap Acidotic.

My climbing was...about 95% of what I'd hoped.  I had been distracted all week with real-life type issues and I found my focus lagging a bit.  Also, I didn't feel quite as strong as I'd hoped.  At any rate, the result was 20th overall, but a comparison to prior year's races indicates that I ran 15 seconds slower per mile than 2014 over a similar course.  20th is good, and the field was loaded, maybe the most competitive ever, at least up front.  But I did not progress here, nor at Washington, and if you're not going forwards, you're going backwards, as they say.  Had a good run back down the mountain with Mr. Lipsey, who is always good company, to meet an awaiting Wifey for a large and free breakfast at the resort.  Speaking of Wifey, this was to be the kick-off for a vacation week that ended up being rather awesome-- Phish shows (one 2 nights before the race- I hope the mild dancing/shimmying didn't affect my legs?), camping in Acadia, water parks...but I've concluded that racing and vacation are odd bedfellows.  Better to keep 'em separated and that may be the rule going forwards.

Upper Walking Boss, near the finish.  Photo by Joe Viger.

...and why the stalled progress this year with the racing?  (If you've found any of this boring, definitely skip this next part.) As a sometimes-student of running training theory, and ostensibly a legit student of human evolutionary physiology, I believe that training for mountain and trail running can adapt the principles of traditional running training: long run, threshold run, intervals, strength training, cross training, easy days.  The terrain has to change (mostly trails) and the workouts should be run, I think, not on flat ground but on topography that mirrors the event.  So, for mountain races, do threshold runs and intervals uphill.  I have neglected the intervals and I think this has limited my aerobic top end.

results

Taken all together, this has been a super fun first half of my racing year, filled with great mountains, great people, and hard running.  But I demand more of my running than just fun.  I hope that a few minor changes to my training, and improved race-day focus, will help me perform at a higher level for my two late-summer races. I am training to win these races, no less.  I keep saying that I'll get slow at some point, but 34 isn't old for mountain or trail running...I should still have time to get faster.  Onward, to see if that's true, remembering to enjoy the enormous privilege of having the time and ability to test myself in these wonderful places.

Big thanks to the men (and sometimes women) who force me to dig deep, and to my team acidotic RACING for putting on such a great championship race (and generally embodying New England mountain running) and for generously supporting me via some race fee assistance.

Bretton Woods Bro-Out and Winning the Mountain Series

I didn't put a fine point on it, but with a 3rd place finish at last weekend's Bretton Woods Fell Race I did manage to attain my primary objective of 2015-- winning the USATF-New England Mountain Running Series and enjoying the hell out of the process.  Here's how that went down.

In convincing Matteo Jesus and Stoneman Legend to accompany me on this trip, the weekend's prospects were looking good: 2 days of camping, Bro-time, and running.  We stopped in St. Johnsbury VT for food and to buy Stoney a sleeping bag-- which he'd forgotten.  Ignoring this bad omen, we arrived after dark at our campground near Mt. Washington and found it wonderfully dark, half empty, and sparse.  In the darkness I wasn't able to figure out how to fully zip my sleeping bag so I spent the night mostly wide awake and freezing.  Duct tape helped make Saturday night better but most non-running time this weekend was spent being profoundly cold.

view of Mt. Washington from checkpoint b.  Courtesy aR team photog Gianina Lindsey (SNAPacidotic). 

The race: I  planned a conservative strategy, maximizing my chances of winning the series but hurting my chances of winning the race. This being a fell race, runners had to navigate between checkpoints- there is no marked course. The tough and wily Todd Callaghan, sitting in 2nd place overall in the series, would surely have pre-scouted the course and might be counting on me to get lost.  If he beat me by 20% in this race I'd lose the series (likewise, Matt Viega needed to get 30 pts on me.)  I'm not bad with directions, and 20% amounts to something like 12 minutes in a 1 hour race, but this was a real possibility on this course considering I hadn't been out the day before and I'd only studied a map. Hearing stories from previous years didn't ease this fear.  (Apparently Jim Johnson crossed route 302 one year, leaving the resort property altogether. And he's won this race!)

Map provided to runners; checkpoints labelled but no route marked.  Planned my intended route in yellow. Managed to mostly follow it, for what that's worth.

So I hung with Todd and Matt Viega on the first climb.  The footing was tough here and would continue to be for much of the race-- ski trails left unattended during the off season, some turning into rock beds, small streams, and fields of shrubbery.  Near the top of the first climb Todd quietly changed course and I didn't notice.  Had I spotted this and gone with him, I'm not sure how the race would have played out. Soon Matt took a different route, also clearly better than mine, as I was in 6th place when I rejoined most of the runners at a different trail and had to work my way back up to 3rd before the descent.  Crap on a stick!

Matt V, Todd, Me, Matteo Jesus. Photos by SNAPacidotic.

From the top of the mountain I chose an obvious route, mostly straight down, but not as straight as Todd's, and my descending wasn't up-to-par with Matt's.  Climbing back up to another side of the mountain I eventually caught up with Todd (who had ducked straight into the woods at one point) and Matt, but with only downhill remaining, I had no intention of making a move for the win.  My conservative plan had kept me in the hunt but I didn't have enough course left to win, which I accepted somewhere near the top of the mountain and tried to enjoy the rest of the race.  Matt bombed the final gnarly/overgrown slope like a pro, and Todd, continuing to impress with his route choices, took a much friendlier (though perhaps steeper) trail down, also out-descending me.  In the final mad sprint to the finish I could barely make out Matt winning ahead of me in 58:17, then Todd in 59:11.  I crossed in 59:39 for 6.7 miles (well, probably more given my route).  Matteo Jesus had a good outing just one place behind me, while Stoney had a navigational mishap and had an extra long run on the mountain.  Big thanks to aR and USATF-NE for the awards-- beer for my 3rd place finish, cash for the series win, and a spanking-new Suunto gps watch won in the raffle. Hot damn!  The beer was consumed (rashly) all in one go at the campsite that night, which probably kept us warmer and fueled us for a run up Zealand Mountain the next morning.

top o' the mountain after the race

Should a fell race be part of the mountain series? Lower turnout at this event suggests that it scares folks.  It introduces several variables other than running prowess: map reading, the ability/willingness to pre-scout the course, intuitive sense of direction, etc.   I hadn't run all-out and that doesn't feel like a race to me.  But I got beat by those more well-prepared and more daring, and there should be races that reward these qualities. Chris Dunn and acidotic RACING did a fine job creating an event that tests competitors on these merits.

Final thoughts on the 2015 mountain series: I wish I'd found these races years ago.  This is where it's at, and this is my favorite accomplishment to date. Thanks to Todd and Matt V, who nipped at my heels and kept me honest, and a few superfast guys who humbled me at Sleepy Hollow and Loon (you know who you are! Come out and race the whole series!). That I managed to win without seriously improving my downhill running skills probably owes to 1) several paved, uphill only races and 2) the best downhill mountain runners not running enough races this year to score.  I think I can now, on a good day, just about climb with anyone in New England (well, not Eric Blake) but holding my own on some of these courses will require new skills. For now, it's time to stop racing for a few months.  See ya'll on the trails and mountains in 2016.

Zealand Mountain run (and, well, power-hike)

view from the top of Zealand Mtn. From nhstateparks.org.

...and thanks especially to Wifey Michaela for supporting me through all these races this year!

1st Degree Fun at the Mt. Greylock Road Race

Sunday saw the 7th installment of this years USATF-New England Mountain Running series.  This would be the 4th paved mountain race on this year's circuit, but I had enough legs left to run back down on trails, which is the proper thing to do.

I'm loving running this year but I feel like the blade has been just slightly dull in hard workouts and races.  It's the difference between hanging with the leaders at Loon vs. my actual finish of 4th, or cracking top-10 at Mt. Washington vs. my near-miss 11th place result. I've tried to remedy this staleness by varying my training over this past 2 month racing hiatus--which has also led to more fun, which is really the point. But by the most recent series race (Cranmore, in July) it became clear that some strong contenders wouldn't be vying for the overall series victory.  This put me in the lead but also took the wind out of my sails a bit. I want to race the best in the region. So I'm training hard through the remainder of the series but am inspired now mostly by the desire to get out in the woods and race on some rad terrain.

Greylock is an 8-mile paved course with much of the 2400' gain coming in the first half, which I ran hard enough to get into the lead ahead of Tim Mahoney, Tim van Orden, Mark Mayall and Nick Curelop after we ran through mile 1 all together. By mile 4, the 10-15% sections are mostly over, and there are long stretches of flat or nearly flat. I had a good lead here so I used these gentler last 4 miles to open up my stride, feel good, but never hit the redline.  This was first degree fun-- fun while it's happening-- rare for a race.  So I tried to be present and enjoy the scenery and the effort, a reward for the sufferfest racing earlier in the summer on comparably more brutal courses.  I finished in 54:37 and probably could have run 1-2 min faster if challenged, which would be an honest time on this course.  (Eric Blake's record here is 51:38). I didn't get a full read on my fitness given the 90-95% effort, but it's a confidence boost nonetheless.

The run down was the best part of the day. Soon after the race there was a groundswell of enthusiasm as folks crowded around maps to plan a route down.  Ten or so of us left together from the summit, heading down the steep (largely unrunnable) Thunderbolt trail, which the spectacular Mt. Greylock trail race ascends.  The group fragmented and I ran the lower, gentler trails with van Orden, Mahoney, and Carsten Braun.  Tim van Orden is an interesting and super positive dude who makes a living as a motivational speaker advocating for a raw food diet combined with endurance sport. He's got a great running resume and quite a lot of Youtube followers (link ) and we talked the whole way down.  Anyway, it was good to properly descend this mountain on trails to atone for the run up the road. 15+ miles for the day, 2 hrs 10 min total running, and some sore quads today from the run down.

The series ends October 4th at the Bretton Woods Fell Race in New Hampshire. This is a choose your own adventure, unmarked course, which will be super fun but also introduces the risk of getting lost and losing time on those trying to catch me in the series standings. I'm torn between putting an exclamation point on this series by hammering an aggressive route, or playing it safe and choosing well-marked trails.  At any rate I'm psyched to get back into the mountains at least one more time this fall.   

Results

Guest Post: 2015 USA Mountain Running Championships

The following is a guest post by my high school teammate and former Rocky Mountain adventure companion Nick AuYeung on the 2015 USA Mountain Running Championships this past weekend in Bend, OR. In addition to his running exploits, Nick is an assistant professor of chemical engineering at Oregon State University.  Nick finished 62nd.  Full coverage can be found at irunfar.com. 

Thanks Drew, I am totally humbled (as expected).  Heck an 11 year old girl ran a faster pace than I did!!!  A 55-59 yr old man actually passed me on the 1st and 2nd lap downhills before I rallied the last lap!  I see a 45 yr old guy Todd Callaghan from Central Mass who was 43rd.  Said hi to a guy named Ted who has a UMass sweatshirt on but he said he'd lived in the bay area for awhile, he thought he'd heard of you though.  

Over the past few years, I am shocked and amazed at how "cool" trail running in general has become.  Its something that only people like you and I used to do.  

And after this race, I am convinced that "mountain running", an elite subset of trail running, is really where the cool kids are.  This USATF race is kinda like the olympic trials but we get to run with them.  At a typical trail race, you don't see Nike guys in matching purple singlets doing form drills in the parking lot, swinging their legs while leaning on their cars, going in and out of the Nike Trailrunning RV, but at this one you do.  These guys are serious athletes...sub 2:15 marathoners, OT qualifiers, collegiate champions, etc etc having fun off-road.  I don't think I've ever run in a more elite field.

I camped the night before right near the course to give myself a chance to sleep at race elevation (Bend is significantly lower) but got in late so didn't get to see the course.  Didn't want to even walk it morning of since I figured it'd tire my legs out.  Didn't wear a watch since all the laps had a slightly different length due to start/finish extension and didn't want to get discouraged.  

The race started at the base of a ski slope.  The first lap you had to run up a volcanic rubble strewn grassy area that was STEEP before getting on something that resembled a rough double track.  That put everyone in oxygen debt.  Before the race guys were doing all these strides, I did enough to get breathing hard, but thought anything else might be counterproductive.  Maybe next time will do more intense warmup.  I sort of thought the race would take a lot longer and be hotter, but it was a freak cold, windy, and cloudy day so endurance wasn't really a factor, but rather the ability to process oxygen and run fast downhill.  Near the top of the course it actually started sprinkling.

Though the grade was easier near the top, there was literally no flat at all.  It was soft dusty stuff.  Licking my lips the first lap in the pack all I tasted was gray volcanic dust.  

Luckily, the downhill was fairly sane...a short, soft, non-technical singletrack section followed by a jeep road.  The only thing that was tough was that it was pretty loose and the last turn it was actually gravel on top of old pavement--took this last turn really easy each time.  Other than that I felt pretty comfortable running fast, but controlled, there was even a 100 m section that was "flat".  I'm sure I lost tons of time on the downs (not a good downhill runner) but not too much on place, so I think I was where I belonged as I would pass some of them on the uphills.

2nd lap everyone settled in and I kind of felt better.  I decided on a the "run all the time but slow" strategy that seemed to be working about the same as the "run faster then walk" strategy.  I think most people around me were walking at least 75% of the time.  I am sure the elites were running most of it, it was doable.  

3rd lap felt best of all but despite "trying harder" I couldn't run any faster...just couldn't seem to process O2 or move my legs faster in the forward direction.  Last 50 m were another volcanic rock strewn grassy stretch.  Strange race...1st uphill I was breathing so hard wondered if I could really continue living on planet earth, nevermind finish, but after a huge downhill on the last lap my heartrate wasn't that high at all upon crossing the line.  I guess that's mountain running.  I actually think I could have run harder had I had the acclimatization, but I just got to a point where I wasn't really hurting but I just wasn't going any faster.  A swim in the Deschutes river left my legs surprisingly pretty good the next day.  

Overall a great atmosphere.  Great burritos afterwards.  There were even a few guys who ran in the 70+ division.  Crazy.  I think the training you suggested was very relevant, so thanks!  

Whether out here or back East, I'd like to do it again and try to improve.  Especially if it is an "up year".  

Where else can you measure yourself against the mountain and America's best?  

No Safe Word: Loon Mountain Race 2015

I'm writing this race report Sunday night in the afterburn of the post-race drive home and subsequent beers because on Monday I'll engage a reentry trajectory into real life.  A thesis must be written, an online college course must be taught, and I'll retreat back into my mostly solitary training.  It's not all bad though -- I'm psyched for these things.  Racing is damn hard and I'm looking forward to a break.

Michaela (aka Wifey) and I headed up to Lincoln NH on Friday to make a long weekend of the Loon Mountain Race, stop #5 on the USATF-New England Mountain Series.  This year also served as the USATF-NE mountain championship race, the mountain part of the USATF-NE all-terrain runner series, so it would be more competitive than the other races this year.  (Last year's race was the USA mountain championships.)

After a short and steep hike on Friday partway up Mt. Moosilauke to see some waterfalls...

...we dined at our usual (predictable, good) pub in Lincoln.  From this point forward we were keenly aware of our tourist status.  This town seems driven by the service industry and every employee we met -- waiter, hotel staff, retail worker -- was friendly but 100% burned out.  One guy told us he'd worked 84 hours that week and then Michaela saw him at it again the next morning.  I think he wanted me to end his suffering, but I'm a man of slight build and I'm not equipped for such mercy killing. While I'm on the subject of observations: outside of the tourist towns, some of New Hampshire has really taken their state creed of militant individualism to heart, at least as evidenced by the bumper stickers and general state of things that we passed today. Don't Tread on Me...etc.  I guess I don't understand the urge to present such a defensive and aggressive front to the world.  How is this really working out for them?  Hopping over to 91 in Vermont, the vibe changes.  Maybe it's Bernie Sanders' influence, I don't know.

lunch by the river

Saturday found my legs fresh so I did a very short run and then some light hiking with Michaela.  This was the first week since last fall that I've really backed off my training so I had twitchy legs.  We helped out the aR crew with registration that evening and then met up with mountain newbie and all-around cool dude Matt Lipsey and his buddy Kevin for dinner and beers, highlighted by a wild 8-year old running through a screen door.  I ran into Matt at the Sleepy Hollow Mountain Race in May where he kicked my ass thanks largely to his crazy downhill running skills.  He bears a disturbing resemblance in appearance and temperament to my homeboy Matteo Jesus and so makes for good company.  He and Kevin had an interesting camping plan, and as he was present at the starting line, I guess these mavericks survived the night.

Lipsey w/ ground-score -- a gobstopper, lick-tested but ultimately discarded.

Sunday's starting line had a few big guns.  The competition: Josh Ferenc, mountain/trail runner extraordinaire. Both Freeman brothers, Olympic XC skiers and strong mountain runners.  A fast triathlon guy perhaps drawn by the all-terrain runner series.  Lispey.  Alex McGrath.  Nipping at my heels, hopefully not too closely, would be top masters runners Todd Callaghan and fellow aR runner and neighbor Ethan Nedeau.  Plus whoever else I didn't recognize.  

the 2015 course

The race started with a hard steep sprint.  I settled in and enacted my plan to listen to my lactate governor and ignore the other runners.  This put me in 6th or 7th place after the first mile of climbing.  I lost a place or two on the muddy downhill on the nordic trails section, the only racing that would take place in the woods.  Lipsey flew by and McGrath challenged.  As we exited the woods around mile 3 and the serious climbing resumed, I was back in my wheelhouse and settled into 4th/5th working with Kris Freeman.  Not far ahead, close enough to see, were the leaders-- Ferenc, Ryan Kelly (the tri guy), and Justin Freeman.  Kris and I would remark after the race that there are SO MANY downhills on this course that you don't expect.  It has 3100' of climbing but also 1400' of descent (a bit more descent than last year's course) and while most of this descent is packed into 2 big downhills there are several when you least expect them.  Not great for me -- I'm a climber and I'm fast enough on flats but I hate steep downhills.  Kris too, so we worked well together.  Another revelation every year is that the climbs are ALL STEEP.  Unlike the paved auto road courses, there are no prolonged sections of 12% grade here.  The climbs at Loon come in chunks of >20% grade through tall grass with chewed-up footing or loose scree-like service roads.  If you rely on a Zen-like rhythm you're gonna have a bad time.  

I hit the summit of the mountain, around mile 5 with roughly 1.5 miles left to run, just behind Kris.  Backwards glances confirmed that McGrath wasn't likely to close the gap with the distance remaining, so I could focus on catching Kris.  Crashing down the biggest descent of the day I was actually resigned to finishing in 5th, but as we began the ridiculous 6/10ths of a mile climb up the 30-48% Upper Walking Boss trail, my mix of "running" and power hiking pulled me just past Kris.  I hadn't saved much for this climb but it didn't matter.  Being fresh here wouldn't help as you're limited by physics and biomechanics....it's that steep.  Here's a shot I grabbed from another site (runwithken.com) to give an idea:

I had perhaps 10 seconds on Kris as the climb topped out.  Distance here is deceptive given the super-slow pace but I was starting to catch Justin.  Too late though.  I ran the final downhill -- 400 meters of loose dirt and scree and chunky grass -- right on the edge of control.  It was just enough to hold onto 4th place up the final short climb to the finish line, where I sucked wind on the ground in a quasi-fetal position.  Ferenc had won in 56:48, followed by Ryan Kelly in 57:07, and Justin Freeman was almost within my reach in 58:09.  I had come through in 58:26, a minute slower than last year but given the course changes I'm not really sure how it compares. Probably similar. 

Fourth didn't get me on the podium, and I had hoped to be in contention up front, but I nearly barfed in the gondola so I'm happy with the effort.  I finished reasonably close to the front (1:38 out) so that will have to suffice for now.  I haven't mixed up my training in many months so maybe I'm getting stale.  I'm thanking the Flying Spaghetti Monster that I have 2 months until my next planned race and I'm looking forward to just training.  

Thanks to: Paul Kirsch, Chris Dunn and aR for a first class event; Wifey for the support and companionship this weekend; and, as always, the rad dudes on the mountain running circuit. Thanks for the vibes. 

Results: http://www.coolrunning.com/results/15/nh/Jul5_LoonMo_set1.shtml

Real race coverage can be found at www.levelrenner.com (Quick women's recap-- 2011 World Champ Kasie Enman won, followed by aR's Kim Nedeau.)

Second Degree Fun at the Mt. Washington Road Race

My buddy's fun rating system:
1st Degree Fun: fun while you're doing it. Actually enjoyable.
2nd Degree Fun: fun when you think about it afterwards. You're glad you did it.
3rd Degree Fun: not fun at any point. Deep regret.

This race would be 2nd degree fun (though mile 5 was pushing the 3rd degree).

Friday night I met up with my old man and we ventured north for the Mt. Washington Road Race. After dinner at a great bar (sorry, "gastropub") in St. Albans VT we met up with Stoneman at a hotel near the mountain in Jackson, NH.  Stoneman was limber from earlier in the day post-hike libations and his pop culture lessons on "dad body" and "man buns" helped dull my nerves. At dawn and after a crappy night's sleep, my dad left to hike the mountain, while Stoney and I breakfasted across from the race start. The view was intimidating.

For scale: note that you can't see the summit buildings.

It's by far the biggest mountain in New England and the biggest East of the Rockies. I haven't seen it since I was a kid and the damn thing was imposing. It's big enough that the second half of the race is above tree line and feels more Coloradan than Appalachian. Race stats: This auto road climb totals 4,688' (to 6,288') with an average grade of 12%. I've trained for this, mostly, but I knew it was going to put a big hurt on me. Some quick math based on my race the past weekend at Mt. Ascutney indicated that 1:06-1:08 was a reasonable goal, which would put me top 10 most years. The starting line was loaded per usual with many of the country's best mountain runners (sans the injured Blake) and even a fast Italian or two. Some miles are steeper than others but only by 1-2% so you can expect relatively even splits, until fatigue and altitude slow the 2nd half. With all of this in mind the plan was to average 8:40's for the first half and then hang on with whatever I had left, hopefully finishing among the big boys.

The plan worked through 4 miles. Splits: 7:20 (the first 200M are flat); 8:32; 8:51; 8:58 (halfway in 32:26).  The idea is to run most of this race at lactate threshold right from the start, hopefully only going miserably anaerobic near the finish. (You'd better experience this repeatedly in training. Otherwise your primitive animal brain - the self-preserving fear center - will put the brakes on hard).  I was sitting in 10th place at mile 4 and the guys I'd hoped to run with were ahead of me. I felt ok but I knew I wouldn't be chasing them...just hanging on.

At mile 4 this race becomes a horror show.

Let's be real for a moment.  The second half of the Mount Washington Road Race is at altitude. I'm not sure why more people don't talk about this.  If you flew in from Colorado you can expect to run 30+ seconds per mile faster over these last 3.7 miles than a comparably fit flat lander.  This I hadn't trained for and short of an altitude tent I'm not sure any of us East-coasters can.   As if to throw salt in the wound, the road straightens out at this point and hits a mile of dirt, with a headwind.  I did my best to crawl into my suffer cave, the place where pain is acceptable, expected, tolerable. I ignored the views as there would be plenty of time to enjoy them up top.  I clawed through mile 5 with a 9:41 split. Deep in the suffer cave. Dan Princic had caught me along the way and he pulled me through my most painful and crushing stretch of racing in recent memory.  Together we ran another 9:41 through the 6 mile mark. I knew from my workouts that I could regain some composure after starting to blow up (a new and recent development) and I was happy to attain this psychic space with about a mile to go (mile 6.7). Mile 7 split -- 9:27.  Dan pulled away a bit and Kris Freeman was closing on me despite my rally.  6:09 for the last 7/10th's of a mile over a flatter stretch with a wall (22%) right at the finish.  I came through in 11th place, 1:08:41, a bit off my goal but happy enough.  Time like this spent at the edge of your limits is about as real as any experience gets, and direct confrontation with those limits is the only way to get better at expanding them.  But I'm loath to go all the way there too often.

In the last stretch. Photo by Stoneman.

Sufferfest. Photo by Snap Acidotic.

The auto road is closed for several hours so I sat around at the top with Dad and Stoneman.  News was coming in that Joe Gray had beaten the American record.  I caught up with other results and noted who had beaten me -- fodder and motivation for next year's training.  Finally at the bottom again, I dug in and waited out the awards...apologies to my crew who had to hang around.  The weekend wouldn't have been enjoyable, even possible, without them.  Next up--a long weekend/vacation with Wifey at the Loon Mountain Race, after which I'll get a break from racing.

Thanks also to the aR camp for their support, the race directors for pulling off a race on such a grand stage, and all the excellent folks who continue to make this scene the most excellent in all of running.  What a race -- even if it should be run straight up the trails!

Results: http://www.coolrunning.com/results/15/nh/Jun20_55thNo_set1.shtml

Father's Day weekend with my pops.

w/ Stoneman

The view. Courtesy Snap Acidotic.