There Is No Finish Line

rrrAs we headed up the ski slope to the top of Mount Werner I wondered how I felt at this point last year. It wasn’t quite the same route up but I arrived at the top about a minute earlier. We then zipped over to Long Lake aid-station at mile 11. I filled a bottle, having all my calories in my vest pockets today, versus going with liquid calories from start to finish. I had an alarm set for 20min intervals and I’d fuel with decaf gels-n-chews to about mile 42, then gradually transition to all Vitargo by the final third of the race. Having just pure water during the warm afternoon seemed like a good idea. I had a lot of “good ideas” going into this event.


Team Hoka on the first climb. With Sage Canaday and Chris Price. Photo Credit: JAdRunning

Heading down Fish Creek Falls I hopped, skipped, and jumped from rock to rock. After leaving one of my favorite parts of the course we arrive to my least favorite—the four-mile road section that connects Fish Creek to Olympian Hall and the next lollipop section of the course. On the way into Olympian I catch up with a few runners and we all end up waiting together at a traffic light for a minute. Heading into Olympian Hall at 21 I see Amanda for the first time. I instantly confess, “I’m really tired.”  What I really want is to get myself above this mind-fog and into an effective racing head-space. “C’mon body. Let’s get with the program.”

On the way up-n-out of Olympian, I continue to feel sluggish but know that’s just part of the game sometimes. “Get up this climb and roll the descent down to Cow Creek.” Since the hare division started at noon, the afternoon was wearing on and it wouldn’t be too long before the sun would set. Knowing my splits from last year, I chose to not have a drop-bag at Cow Creek, knowing I’d make it back to Olympian—and my lights—before sunset.

At Cow Creek, I filled my bottles and drank 20oz of water before departing. It’s 12.5mi back to Olympian with no aid and that takes me a good two hours so I wanted to ensure I left this aid-station topped off. It was warm enough that I doused myself with water a few times on the way back. The noon-start throws a nice monkey wrench into your 100mi race psychology because at this point in the day I’m usually a hell of a lot farther into a 100-miler. So it was a tough realization at Cow Creek—given how I was feeling—knowing I was only 50k in. “Things’ll turn around. Just hang in there.”

I was starting to catch up with a lot of runners in the tortoise division by now as well as a hare, here and there. The exhaustion I was experiencing was really wearing on me so I took at caffeine pill and hoped that would help lift me out of my funk. I wasn’t even 40mi into the race. Catching up and talking with James Walsh, who was running his first 100-miler, we were joking around about how 100-mile racing is so radically different than racing Ironman (both of us having raced Ironman Hawaii together in 2011—and finishing within minutes of each other while not knowing who the other was. “I haven’t seen another hare in three and a half hours!,” he tells me. Commiserating with another runner buoys my spirits and we run on for a while enjoying some sweet Colorado single-track.

More time and tortoises on the trail and the relentless grade—just gradual enough that you feel like you have to run. Josh Arthur and I lament this fact when I catch up with him. When I spy him up ahead, I yell “Josh! Hey man, how’s it going?!” To which he replies “This is the best day of my life…” in a tone that mildly suggests otherwise. We shoot the breeze for a bit before space and time separates us once more. Josh has done really well here, so you never want to count him out.

I summit and begin the descent back down into Olympian Hall. At some point, the indomitable Jeff Browning goes by. I say, “Hey, I’ll run with you back to Olympian.” I’m hoping this opportunity might be the turning point in my race. Another “good idea” of mine here at Run Rabbit.

At Olympian (the second time), Amanda was on the ball. Just as I’d done the year prior, I put on a sleeveless base-layer and a tight long-sleeve zip. I grabbed my lights and I was outta there. Browning was in-n-out even faster and was already completely outta sight. But, I reminded myself, the racing doesn’t begin until mile 70. From that point, I’d still have seven hours to race to the finish line…

Now it’s back through Downtown Steamboat Springs and eventually starting to climb back up to the Fish Creek Falls trail-head. Paul Nelson, of Paul Nelson Film & Photography, is out there on the side of the road and asks me how things are going. He’s filming and I’m one of the athletes he’s following today. I tell him I came through Olympian in like 7th place and last year I came through in 5th so things were looking good. “And, we’re not even half-way yet.” Which, I’m thinking in my head, really kinda sucks ’cause I feel like like shit. “Whatever, I’ve done the training, I’ll be fine,” I tell myself. Paul gives me a pep talk and the words really resonate. The long stretch up to Fish Creek Falls begins. The sun sets and darkness begins to fully envelop the day.

rrrprepThe prep for Run Rabbit Run this year included 30% more run-specific volume in the month of August than last year. Since I wasn’t using Hypoxico altitude equipment I had more time to run than last year when I was doing supplemental, hypoxic sessions on the bike as part of my altitude acclimatization. Returning from injury this spring and being under-trained for Western States 100 truly sucked so I vowed to be back to my bullet-proof self for Run Rabbit in Sept. And to justify going faster than my 19:13 from last year, I felt I needed to train even harder. It’s worked before…

One thing about the race this year was that in addition to the underlying fatigue, I wasn’t having that much fun from the start. The race-director, Fred Abramowitz, would say that I’m not supposed to have fun during a 100-mile run but by “fun” I guess I mean full and total engagement with the process—that joyous flow state that’s created when the mind and body meld into one when fully engaged in the act of racing an ultra. Anyway, I was still waiting for that switch to be flipped and for the fun to start…

I’d been flip-flopping with 22 y/o Daniel Metzger all day and while I’d taken a little detour for a couple minutes, going straight on a switchback in the dark, he’d moved up ahead of me. Catching up with him once more, he shared that some other guys moved ahead as well. “Great.” I just wanted to get up to Long Lake at mile 53—the true half-way point of the event. It was now starting to get really cold. The slog up Fish Creek Falls continued, laboriously.

Jesse Haynes catches up and, moving at a reasonable pace, I hike/run with him for quite a while. Jesse’s had a big year with a Top-10 at Western States and a win at Tahoe Rim Trail 100 just a month later. “I don’t know if running three hundreds in a year was a good idea,” he says. I agree, but what the hell; this was Jeff Browning’s fourth 100 for 2016. Notably, I’ve never done more than two 100s in a calendar year.

Long Lake aid-station is less than two miles away. We hit 10,000′ and the temps have dropped into the 30s. I feel clammy. The last thing Jesse hears from me is my distant wretching as he floats away, up ahead into the frigid darkness.


Olympian Hall, early in the going. Photo Credit: Joe Grant

Puke-n-rally. Tortoises moved by me and try to console. Then another wave of nausea hits and I’m on the ground, dry-heaving. This time on all fours. I just want to lay down on the trail like Karl Meltzer after 1600mi on the Appalachian Trail. “This sucks. Get up.” When I do, I start shaking uncontrollably.Less than half a mile to Long Lake. Start moving or you’re really gonna be screwed.”

Hugging my body with my arms while running I feel ridiculous. Every step, I’m digging myself into a bigger hole. Finally… the sound of voices again—life-saving aid. I see the fire with many runners—in various states of carnage—around it; camp chairs looking all-too inviting. I stand before the flames for quite some time. My nutrition alarm goes off. Another wave of nausea hits. “Wow, this race is not panning out similar to last year, at all…”

I hobble over to the drop-bags and a volunteer helps me locate mine. I grab stuff and quickly make my way back over to the raging fire. I put on my nylon shell over my base-layer and long-sleeve. I put on a beanie. I have my gloves and hand-warmers at the ready. What I really need is a puffy jacket and tights but alas, they’re at mile 70, and I didn’t plan for this shitty scenario at mile 53. I packed my drop-bags similar to how I did last year—with the assumption I’d be in a racing mode and not in a survival mode.

And then it happened—I sit down in a camp chair. Later, a volunteer recognized I was a mess and brought a blanket for my legs. “I’ve painted myself into a corner here,” I thought to myself. “Dammit!!” I haven’t been this messed up since my first 100 at mile 67 at Tahoe Rim Trail in 2009, except this time, I’m cold. Really cold. I’m not considering moving at this point but wondering how in the hell I’m going to get over to Summit aid-station, 5.5mi away—higher and colder…

Time passes. Runners come and runners go. Familiar faces. Words of encouragement exchanged. I barf into a large ziploc bag for a while. I eat some soup. That comes up. Ginger ale: no dice. 10,000′ is not being kind this year. Just as someone puts another log on the fire I put my head in my lap, groaning under the aid-station hustle-n-bustle. Runners are sharing their stories from the day. Tortoises and hares, males and females, are strategizing where they plan on dropping. And some will drop while others’ destiny will somehow see them to the finish line. A young guy, racing as a tortoise is trying to pull it together. He says his fingers are cold and stiff. He’s clearly still in the game. I give him my hand-warmers and urge him to get outta here. After a time he’s gone and some new desperate face arrives.

An hour and a half has gone by. Food still won’t stay down and I’m still shiv-shiv-shivering. Finally, a guy comes up to me and asks what I’m going to. “Ah, good question,” I think. I tell him I want to continue but given my physical state, I have no idea how I’ll get outta here. Shit or get off the pot. Matter-o-factly, I tell him my day is done. In a while another volunteer comes over and cuts off my wrist-band. “Well,” I think to myself, “There’s a first time for everything.” Some time passes and the guy finds me again and let’s me know he’s taking some other runners off the mountain soon. I get up and ask him if I can take this blanket with me. “No.”

At the truck I see about four other drops inside. I open up the back cab, throw my stuff in and tell them, “I’ll be back in minute.” I then drop to the ground for one final wretching session, all the while reassuring myself that continuing on was simply not in the cards today. Over two hours after arriving at Long Lake, we start down the road with the heater on high. It feels good to be moving again, even if it’s no longer under my own power.

What makes this DNF pill a little easier to swallow was the fact that I’d had the opposite experience here last year. I’d run myself to a 2nd place overall in what’s still one of the fastest times on this course. Because of this I came in this year and broke one of my cardinal rules—“expect nothing and be prepared for anything.” 2016’s been a bitch with injury and struggling to come back and continue trying to live up to my insane expectation that I must continue improving, season after season after season. Seems like the sport’s been trying to teach me something this year and I’ve been too busy obsessing about splits, finish times, and podiums to notice. “Everybody has a plan until you get punched in the face.” Yep.

Hands down, the most fun I had at Run Rabbit Run 2016 was after I dropped. We barreled over to Summit aid-station on this roller-coaster of a fire-road, where we picked up my Hoka One One partner-in-crime, Sage Canaday. Sage had been pushing the pace all day and—like me—was looking for a little redemption from a tough day at Western States 100 in June. Sage was in good spirits and we all found ourselves sharing the day’s trials and tribulations.

The process of dropping out of a mountain ultra like Run Rabbit Run is no easy task. Back at Long Lake, around the fire, a guy told me “This is not a good place to drop. You should drop at Dry Lake (about mile 66) ” I thought to myself, “Well, I wanna jump outta this chair and continue racing but if I can’t take this fire with me, then my ass stays right here.”

We transition from the truck into the back of a Subaru, about 5 of us packed in the back like toes in an Injinji sock, for the ride down to Dry Lake and then on to Spring Creek Ponds where I’d meet back up with Amanda. On the way down we shared some stories and LMAO’d the whole way. Someone handed me a thermos of hot coffee. We talked about DNF’g races and I shared this was my first legit DNF. I wondered if feelings of guilt and shame would eventually surface around my decision. Sage just laughed and said he once DNF’d a 3k on the track and the everyone burst out into laughter once more.

At Spring Creek Ponds, the moment had arrived to find a phone and call my wife and tell her we’d come all this way so I could drop out of the race. She’s now seen it all—running my first 100, a handful of Ironmans, winning 100s, setting course-records, failing, succeeding, and now adding the DNF experience to the list. She’d been back at the hotel keeping track of my progress online, and since I hadn’t come through Summit or Dry Lake yet, she made the smart call to stay inside. It’s not that far from the resort over to the mile 70 aid-station, as that’s a low point of the course (literally in elevation terms and figuratively for the runners I suppose).

Spring Creek Ponds is one of the amazing aid-stations along the Run Rabbit Run course. Last year I was in-n-out of there so fast I didn’t really get to appreciate it. This year? I more than made up for it! Down from high elevation, I was feeling back to my normal self. A decision had been made and no significant feelings of remorse had surfaced. Sometimes you’re the hammer and sometimes you’re the nail. I made the most of the moment, yukking it up with the likes of Zach Miller, Ford Smith, and even Nick Clark, who, volunteering this year, was who I ran with into this very aid-station last year. My how things change.

Amanda was on her way and the runners who were still in the mix that I’d been with at Long Lake started arriving and departing. Jesse Haynes lingered for a while while Keira Henninger gave him a good dose of tough love and saw him off. The competitor in me stirred but my day was over. Keira and I talked a bit and she was super positive about looking ahead and getting back to kicking ass soon. For sure.

Hindsight is always 20/20 and I’ve had some time to objectively reflect on the factors that led to this DNF. If the simplest answer tends to be the right one then the reason why I failed to have a repeat strong performance here is most likely due to being somewhat cooked from the training I did in August. By the end of the month I’d been averaging 112mi a week running with a ton of climbing. The training was enjoyable and it was the first time this year where my body was at 100% so I was really fired up to “go big” in training. Perhaps the taxing training load coupled with resuming a 50+hour work-week mid-August (teaching and coaching) took its toll. Quality of sleep was impacted and I simply started accumulating a lot of fatigue, which I felt would be remedied with a bit longer taper than last year. Everybody has a plan…

Training aside, the altitude and the cold really seem to be the one-two punch that knocked me out of the race. Last year, using Hypoxico altitude equipment, I was so elated that I was not the least bit nauseous for the entire duration of the race. So initially, I blamed my DNF on not using the Hypoxico equipment, but after getting my blood labs back from the doc a week ago and seeing values higher than they’ve been in years suggests that the AltoLab equipment I did use effectively prepared me for the high elevation (even if it felt like it hadn’t). Honestly, I don’t know. Granted, running 100 miles is tough enough without coming from sea-level to the mountains of Colorado to do it. In the end I never was able to shake the fatigue going into the race. Unlike last year, there was just a lot of resistance everywhere I turned. C’est la vie.

After an up-n-down year of being injured—and then a fear of re-injuring myself—I’d have to say I’ve lost touch—-to some degree—-with the art of racing and have instead spent too much time dwelling on expected outcomes. It appears you’re never too old, or have too much experience, to repeat mistakes you’ve already made and supposedly learned from.

Moving forward I’m setting some hard-n-fast racing ground-rules for myself:

  1. Expect Nothing and Be Prepared for Anything
  2. Keep It Simple
  3. Execute In the Moment
  4. Patient + Positive = Power
  5. Know Thyself
  6. NEVER Start Pushing Until AT LEAST the Half-Way Point (of ANY distance)
  7. NEVER Run With Splits (mine or otherwise) 
  8. Liquid Calories Is the Way To Go

You’re only as good as your last race. Sonoma ULTRA Trail 50k on Oct 1st. 2nd place and first “old guy.” Photo Credit: Amanda Shebest

This year I was not planning on running Scena Performance‘s Sonoma ULTRA 50k, as I had done last year. I’d signed up for pacing duty instead, which I knew would ensure I didn’t race it, since it’s only two weeks post-Run Rabbit Run. Then friends suggested I “dust myself off” [i.e., from my DNF] and race the 50k on my favorite training grounds here at home. Everyone was on-board—and I was fresh—so what the hay. It would allow me to work on getting back in touch with really racing.

After Run Rabbit, I eventually got back to running, but decided to start leaving the watch at home. It felt light and right. With intuition guiding me, I got to race-week in a healthy groove of running a bit every morning and chilling during the hot afternoons. I arrived to the start line feeling like I would’ve wanted to for Run Rabbit—fresh, loose, and overjoyed to be racing. I bounded, effortlessly off the start-line.

On the first 2000′ climb I reminded myself: “Expect Nothing. Be Prepared for Anything.” l’m never as pumped racing off the front as I am racing with a fellow competitor. It only takes one other runner to make a race. Half-way up the climb, I was taking it easy and keeping my breathing in check. “Never Start Pushing Until AT LEAST the Half-Way Point.” I was happy to have some company. Racing strategically, I eventually let the guy pass, his breathing more labored than mine, I’d let him wear himself out. At Panorama aid, we started the descent to the Ranger Station, I was descending very well and the running felt easy. Down to the turn-around 2000′ and back up another 2000′. Half-way back up, there he is again. Eventually, I step off the trail and let him pass. I’m not getting sucked in to working too hard too early.

Over to Goodspeed in Sugarloaf State Park, I leave the aid-station, 1min back. This is exactly where I wanna be. We head up into Sugarloaf to Suzanna Bon’s aid-station at Gray Pine (the halfway point). I get some Coke, say hi to Suzanna and start thinking about catching this guy on this lollipop section that heads up the ridgeline and back down to Gray Pine.


Sonoma ULTRA 50k. October 1st, 2016. 10,000′ inside 31 miles. Dang!

Steps upon steps up to the ridge. No sign of the front-runner. With Napa Valley to my left and the Valley of the Moon to my right it was time to descend. In a mile, 1st came back into view. We hit Gray Pine together and introduced ourselves on the way out. Yuri Gonzaga, 26, did his first trail race at Mt. Diablo two weeks earlier to place 3rd. Yuri tells me he’s really feeling the effort at this point in the race. I tell him he’s running very strong and just keep doing what he’s doing. The encouraging words seemed to work; maybe a little too well…

We make our way down to Goodspeed, grab nutrition from our drop-bags and start the final ascent back up Hood Mountain. Armed only with endurance, I quickly reach my threshold while climbing. The cumulative four hours of this peppy pace has finally caught up with me. I let the kid go. Maybe I can catch him on the final descent…

It’s not about racing anymore, it’s about courage, to be honest with myself and do my best. I remind myself, “there’s no excuse for not playing good defense.” The technical, rock-infested climb up to the top of Hood is awful. I reach the top and am so thankful. I descend the rocky, twisty Summit Trail down to Panarama, where I slam a full 12oz Coke for the push to the finish.

With 3 miles to go. Photo Credit: Adrian Ramirez

Coke: the world’s greatest energy drink. 3 miles to go. Photo Credit: Adrian Ramirez

Energy’s still great but pushing the pace results in some nasty leg cramping. I’m out here for some fun and having Yuri out here made my day. I’d certainly rather go head-to-head with a fellow competitor and get second than win easy. Looking at what I did last year I figured I’d run about 5:20. I crossed the line in 5:15. Yuri broke five hours in 4:58, going to show, once again, how much time you can save if/when you can run strong over the final 25% of an ultra.

Indeed, I’ll be chasing a Golden Ticket into Western States next June where I’d like to again compete for that top Masters spot as well as running about two hours faster than I did this year. It only takes a couple Jorge Maravillas though, to knock me out of Golden Ticket contention but I’m not worried about it. In fact, worrying about it makes it less likely that I’ll race well enough to earn an entry.

Accept your limits to move pass them. Instead of obsessing over outcomes, I’m just gonna keep it simple and focus on my health and well-being; coming into events fresh-n-loose, and executing brilliantly. I believe with the learning I’ve amassed the last four seasons, I’m poised to now have the breakthrough season for which I’ve been dreaming.


Parting Shot: Race rig from Ironman Hawaii 2011. Sub 5-hours for 112mi. Watching the race on Saturday, I’m grateful for the four occasions I raced in Hawaii, in ’02, ’04, ’07, & ’11. I’m also grateful for the second “career” I now have as an ultrarunner but sometimes, I do miss that bike…

A heartfelt thanks to my beautiful and highly supportive wife/agent Amanda for her thankless job as “First Responder” and always picking me up after I’ve fallen.  |  Thank you to Hoka One One for your continued support, innovation, and producing the best shoes out there—#speedinstinct #timetofly!  |  Thanks to Vitargo for the steady energy and SIMPLIFYING my nutrition.  |  Thank you Healdsburg Running Company for all the wonderful support from the HRC/H-Burg crew!! | Victory Sportdesign produces the best drop-bags in the biz! | Thank you to Julbo Eyewear for the beautiful, functional, and comfortable sunglasses.  |  Thanks to Dave Townsend at Santa Rosa Physical Therapy for helping me manage all of my issues and keep on runnin’ >>>

2016 Western States 100

headerWith a wink to my wife Amanda from the start line, a shotgun blast was heard and timer started. I’m grateful I did Run Rabbit Run last year, with its uphill start, giving me a better sense of how to negotiate the escarpment here at Western States. I kept tabs on my exertion and heart-rate, but really I was just soaking in the electric energy all around me. Joy alone seemed to buoy me up the mountain and I was sure to take in the panoramic view up on top. I spied the Nevada mountains to the east that cradle my much beloved Tahoe Rim Trail (TRT) 100 course that, seven years back, first crushed my body but left an indelible imprint on my soul. I’ve been coming back to the 100 ever since.


Everybody’s fast when it’s easy. Photo Credit: Paul Nelson Photography

Tahoe Mountain Milers, the folks that host the TRT Endurance Runs, also run the Lyon Ridge aid-station at mile 10.5 here at Western States. I volunteered here a year ago, which led to my gaining entry into this year’s race. So at Lyon it was sweet to see TRT race-director, George Ruiz, and some other folks and give them some quick hugs and high-fives, before continuing on toward Red Star Ridge.

Through Lyon Ridge aid, heart-rate and perceived exertion were right where they should be at this point in a 100-miler. Calories and fluids were going in just fine. I felt calm, relaxed, and simply happy. The Hoka One One Speed Instinct’s were eating up the technical terrain and were quickly proving to be the best shoe for the job. Like Indiana Jones, I had “chosen wisely.”

Click here for my Hoka One One Speed Instinct shoe review

To add some more structure to my race, I’d brought along Mike Morton’s 15:45 masters course-record splits from 2013 (the second hottest WS100 on record). Today was not supposed to be as hot, and if things really came together, who knows, maybe I could get close to his time. Ultimately, I figured, if I ran to my potential I’d arrive at the Placer High School track somewhere in the 16-17hr range.


Red Star Ridge. It’s all in front of me. Photo Credit: Gary Wang

Rolling into Red Star I was around 14th place and running comfortably. Naturally, I enjoyed the cool morning in the high country. The bliss wouldn’t last all day to be certain. I always think of the TRT race motto: “A Glimpse of Heaven and a Taste of Hell.” Often times that’s the 100mi racing experience in a nutshell. When we do the work in training we usually get more “Heaven” than “Hell,” but there are no guarantees, especially if you’re working to your potential. A quote I used all through my run here at Western was, “Embrace the pain and use it to fuel your journey.”

Down to Duncan Canyon, with about a quarter of the race already completed, I was happy to already find myself right where I wanted to be—right around 10th place and no worse for wear. I remember arriving to the aid-station, people everywhere. I’d abbreviated all the aid-station names on my pacing chart and was expecting to see Amanda here but looking around I didn’t see her then later realized that this “DC” was Duncan Canyon and not Dusty Corners. Duh. Western States rookie mistake.

For the rest of the morning I was running with or near Ian Sharman and if anybody in the race knows how to run himself up into the Top-10 it’s Ian. Through Robinson Flat and Miller’s Defeat aid-stations I settled and appreciated Ian’s tips on the race, like wanting to push harder at certain points but continuing to exercise restraint (and try to stay upright on the rocky terrain). It was all new to me and yeah, it was hard continuing to hold back and watch my HR drop into the high 120s. But hey, if I can get to Foresthill with an avgHR lower than what I’m used to in 100s, and be in the mix for Top-10, sign me up!

I’d run Canyons 100k seven weeks prior to States and I was excited to get to familiar ground that I’ve recently run. Last Chance dropped me down to the swinging bridge and I had arrived at the Canyons 100k turn-around. Climbing legs were good and this ice-bandana I’d picked up from Amanda earlier was really working out. I had shared with Ian earlier that I was actually feeling cold. He said that was a good thing so I just rolled with it.

The run down to El Dorado Creek wasn’t as fast-n-fun as it was at Canyons 100k, since I was so fresh by comparison (and it was 52 degrees that day). I was in disbelief to discover the 2015 Ultrarunner of the Year, David Laney, at the El Dorado aid-station. We left together. David had volunteered at Canyons and I picked his brain about States. I knew he’d put in a ton of work into this race and by the looks of it took some risks early in the going. And why not? Nothing ventured; nothing gained. We shook hands as we started the climb up to Robinson Flat and I encouraged him to keep pluggin’. He did and we stayed together for the first mile or so. I yelled back some encouragement once more and knew he was likely in for a long slog to Auburn. I hoped he’d gut it out.

I’d moved up to 8th or 9th and that sounded beautiful. Arriving to Michigan Bluff, I was in high spirits and saw two athletes I coach, Louis Secreto and Francisco Benevides. Louis was crewing and pacing for me today. On an absolute high, it was great to see these guys here. And now, only a hop-skip-n-jump to Foresthill. Settle in and relax…

At about 3pm it was getting to be about the warmest part of the day. Arriving at a stream crossing before the climb up Bath Rd. I did what you’re supposed to do at Western States and that’s lie down in the streams. This is the first time in the race where I started feeling the cumulative effects of the day starting to wear on me. I needed to cool off. The primal brain, however, absolutley loathing every second spent stopped while the reasoning centers urging me to remain still. I lasted about 60 seconds and it was time to emerge. And to whom am I greeted, coming up from behind, seemingly licking his chops, just as I start my ascent? Bronco Billy himself—Jeff Browning.

I didn’t know what to expect from Browning at Western States. I knew he’d won HURT 100 in January and was also doing Hardrock 100 a month after States. I wasn’t surprised to see him but I wasn’t happy about it either. He passed me up quickly on the climb with a cordial “Hey Bob.” and he was out of sight pretty quickly. This would be Jeff’s twenty-fourth 100-miler. He got in on a sponsor slot from Altra and from the looks of it, he was making the most of the opportunity, not being phased in the least bit about running Hardrock in July. I stayed within myself and made my way up Bath Rd, where I knew I’d see my pacer for the first time.


With Jason Riddle (left) and pacer, Louis Secreto. Photo Credit: Melanie Wehan

I’d told Louis before the race, I’d like him to jump in after the river crossing at mile 78, but now, after 100k of rugged trail-running in me, I said “Hey, I’ll probably be faster down to the river if you’re with me. Wanna jump in now?” Louis has huge passion for Western States and the sport and was all-to-happy to start pacing duties early. I was grateful both he and his wife Linn were out here so Amanda wasn’t all by her lonesome all day. They are the best.

Photo Credit: Lorna Doone

Amanda and recent SD100 finisher, Maggie Tides, help cool me off in Foresthill (mile 62). CHILLY!  Photo Credit:  Jenna Ballesteros

Foresthill was absolutely magical. I’d been there a year ago—spectating—for the first time. The energy is palpable. For a lot of runners, Foresthill represents a significant milestone in the race—the point where the push to the finish begins; the infamous run down to the river. I’d pushed this section pretty hard at Canyons 100k, attempting to bank some last-minute quad-crushing descent to prep the legs for States after a frustrating spring nursing a cranky knee back to health. Now was the time to see whether my body would cash the check I wrote in the first 62 miles of the race.


Amanda, dropping me on Cal St. Photo Credit:  Melanie Wehan

Here at my first Western States there was one true goal and that was Top-10 or bust. I was very reasonable in the first half trying to keep up with Morton’s masters’ record splits. I was down 16min by Foresthill and I didn’t care at all. It gave me some structure early and I’d only stick to them if they happened to align with HR and RPE. I’ve run enough 100s to know that to perform the best you can—on the day—you must run within yourself. By doing so, I stayed cool, processed calories, and most importantly: kept my belly happy. I’ve come to understand that if I’m nauseous and vomiting in an ultra, I’ve put myself in that compromised position by running outside my abilities.

Past the Cal 1 aid-station, I wasn’t surprised to feel some exhaustion starting to creep in. Considering the lighter training load coming into the race, I expected—if I’m being honest with myself—to have to suffer more than I typically do to reach the finish line. I hoped it wouldn’t get too ugly, but because the style of my training looked so different from what I typically do, I couldn’t predict how my legs would feel in the final third of the race.

Through Cal 2 I was still in 9th place. It’s 8mi to the river crossing at Rucky Chucky and I can’t say with any degree of enthusiasm that I was psyched to run it, since the experience of doing so was fresh in my mind, having running it 7 weeks ago at Canyons 100k. One thing was for certain: I wasn’t running the way I should be at this point. The quads and calves were really starting to talk to me. I just couldn’t do anything about the slowing.

I hear Louis say, “Hey, we got company.” Hoka teammate, Chris DeNucci, and his pacer, Mario Fraioli, come by. I asked them how far back the next guy is. They say the spaniard, Tofol Castanyer, isn’t too far back but he’s looking bad, which doesn’t really buoy my spirits because I know I’m sucking and it’s going to get worse given how my legs are feeling. It was inspiring to see Chris. His upward trajectory in the sport over the last two seasons has produced some amazing results and with the lessons learned from last year’s Western States, it came as no surprise to see him running well at this point in the race. He’d come through Foresthill in 12th, 10min back. Denuch pushed me back to 10th and I was feeling like I was on a high-wire with no safety net; one place away from moving into “bust” territory. Deal with it. Sh*t will turn around. It always does. Get to the river…

Photo Credit: Gary Wang

Photo Credit: Gary Wang

I love the Mike Tyson quote, “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.” That pretty much symbolizes the final 3 miles down the river—like a giant Gordy Ainsleigh in ginormous boxing gloves reached down from the sky and socked me right in the face. It was becoming increasingly clear I would not get to play the role of predator this day. No, this day I would not have the privilege of reeling in any more carnage—-I slowly and painfully realized that today… I am the carnage. FML.

By the time I got to the river crossing I was already cold. I’d never raced with the ice-bandana before and should’ve taken it off earlier than I did to warm up a bit before the river crossing. I wasn’t running well so I wasn’t generating much body heat. I was wondering if I did too good a job with my heat training? Wasn’t this Western States? Aren’t I supposed to be hot? Gordy with another icey blow to my glass jaw.

The river crossing sucked. I was completely oblivious to my surroundings and seemingly helpless. A little kid helped me buckle my life vest. Volunteers standing in the water keep telling me to to hold on to the rope with both hands. Both Hands! Okay, okay, I’m doing it. Do I get disqualified if I only do one hand? I had no idea Jim Walmsley had given everyone a bit of a scare earlier trying to swim across and getting swept a bit downstream by the strong current.

What the hell is wrong with my body? My legs are seizing up in this cold-ass water. Dammit, I’m f*cking freezing. Who the hell put these boulders in here? Gordy! This race is totally kicking… my… ass! The boulders are f*cking slippery. Never feeling more vulnerable in a race situation, I’m super psyched to see the paparazzi on the other side capturing my feeble attempts at pulling myself toward them. Fake it. Try to at least look like you have some semblance of control.

Somewhere in the Rucky Chucky “experience” I saw Amanda. I heard her words echo in my head for a while after Louis and I started the climb up to Green Gate, “You gotta get moving.” I realize that honey, I thought to myself. I’m in 10th. Louis knows my race is going sideways. He asks, “What do you think you have left for the run from Green Gate to the finish? I don’t even remember what I mumbled.

Running Top-10 at Western States is the gold standard in the sport of ultra mountain running. Since the start of the year when an MRI revealed some nasty sh*t going on in my knee, I’ve fought to keep the dream alive. Plan A for the spring prep went right out the window and Plan B went into action, starting with a full month off from running. Health became the focus instead of an emphasis on increasing fitness. Training was overhauled and so much attention was paid to ensuring the full health of my knee without having to take drastic measures like a cortisone shot. Uphill and flat running was emphasized over aggressive downhill running. At mile 80 as we moved passed Green Gate, the dream was still alive. I’m currently in 10th place at the Western States 100. What an honor it’s been today to mix it up with some of the best 100mi runners in the world…

In the five miles to Auburn Lake Trails I lose 5 places. And I don’t give a sh*t. I have little left, the internal dials locked on damage-control mode. I sit down at the aid-station and thoroughly enjoy the volunteers there. I get some chicken broth. We’re yucking it up. Louis wants me to go. I’m bummed we have to leave. I was just getting comfortable. I’ve never DNF’d an ultra but am starting to get mighty curious how I’m going to get to the godd*mn finish line. Well, you’re walking just fine. I look at the chicken broth in my bottle. Suck it up.

My legs are cooked in a way I’ve never experienced before; my quads and calves have never been so jacked up. The training account for this race is long since overdrawn. “What do you expect? You injured yourself by bombing the downhills in late season short-course races. Then you pussyfoot around the descents for 5 months leading up to a 100mi run with 23,000′ of net down. What did you really expect?

The downward spiral of negativity persists. In my head I’m thinking, “If I can’t Top-10 then being 25th or 45th at the finish is all the same thing. Whatever. I’ve pretty much given up on nutrition and hydration as well. I’m just over it. I catch a toe on rock and fall off the trail into some bushes/briar patch. My legs seize up. Awesome. Louis tries to help me to my feet. Falling off the trail feels like insult to injury. What a f*cking disaster this has turned into. Cool cut on my shoulder though. That’s something.

Louis tells me “The girls will be at Highway 49.” I wasn’t expecting to see Amanda there but I wanted to see her now more than at any point in the day. Arriving at the aid-station and seeing her I felt ashamed I was so shattered and no longer running for a Top-10 finish. We hugged and as I was leaving and she let me have it: the Mahatma Gandhi quote I often share with athletes I coach, “Full effort is full victory.” As we starting making our way to No Hands Bridge the Ghandi quote floated around in my stream of consciousness, leading me all the way back to 1999, when I first read George Sheehan’s book, Running and Being, in which he wrote “There is no excuse for not playing good defense.” Dammit George, even Steph Curry has rough days. You should’ve seen Game 7.

I’d lost 4 more places by the time I dragged my weary bones into the 93.5mi aid-station at Hwy 49. My running was in the crapper and the miles were going by so slowly; aid-stations seemed like they were 15mi apart. This is the maddening difference between running 5-6mph versus running 3-4mph. I was now in 19th but imagined it more like 34th. “Full effort”. DE-FENSE!! Let’s get the ball back and try to sink some 3s…

No Hands Bridge. Photo Credit: TRT pacer and best man, Michael Cook

No Hands Bridge. Photo Credit:  TRT100 pacer and best man, Michael Cook

In the weeks leading up to States, I had friends and athletes I coach bring up the competition at States, particularly, Jim Walmsley, who set stout course-records at both Bandera 100k and Lake Sonoma 50 earlier this year and put up 140/140/120 mile weeks before his two-week taper. Now I know when I’m out-classed and realize Walmsley’s in another league. He’s a super inspiring runner. Jokingly I started telling people I was going to catch Walmsley at Robie Point (mile 98.9) and go on to win the race, thinking to myself, “Ha-Ha. Wouldn’t that be something?!”

I wasn’t having a lot of fun on that nasty climb up to Robie. I was beginning to think Louis didn’t know where the hell he was going anymore and was just screwing with me. But I was a helluva lot more happy climbing than descending by this point in the going. Arriving at the aid station I look over at the table and Jim Walmsley standing there, still in his race kit. WTF? I’d heard he’d gotten off course around Hwy 49 but assumed he’d made it to the finish line already and was simply back out for a cool-down and to cheer on some runners. As Louis and I were closing in on the finish, I would later come to understand why so many people were asking me the same question, “Hey, are you Jim?”

Photo Credit: Gary Wang

He made it! Photo Credit: Gary Wang

The last mile was good and I did my best to stay in the moment and appreciate the final minutes of a truly special day, regardless of placing and finish time. Louis, Amanda, and I ran into the Placer High Stadium together. I joked around with Amanda that we needed to be in Lane 1. I saw fellow Tahoe Mountain Milers, Kati Bell and Shane James and gave them hugs and high fives. If it weren’t for Kati’s encouragement, I wouldn’t have had this amazing opportunity. I was pretty elated to see that finish line. Nothing feels more satisfying than getting to the finish of a 100mi run. It’s nothing short of incredible what the human body can endure.

After a “full victory” squeeze from Amanda, another Hoka teammate, Paul Terranova, put my finisher’s medal around my neck. And since he’s known for his push-ups at the end of ultras, I spontaneously offered to crank some out with him, reminding us and everyone that we always have more to give out there, we just have to find the inspiration.


Rickey Gates said in a recent Instagram post about Monday’s Mountain Marathon in Alaska, “Racing is about doing what you can do on that given day.” I didn’t like the cards I was dealt this year at all but I played them to the best of my ability because I wanted to honor myself, my competitors, and the Western States 100. Laying on the infield after finishing, feeling like death warmed over, rolled up like a burrito, and occasionally vomiting into a cardboard box, I couldn’t help but smile each time I heard Tropical John’s voice announce the names of fellow competitors as they entered the stadium, tough-as-nails athletes, some who’s day had also gone south but found it in themselves to soldier on when the lofty goals they’d set for themselves were blown up hours before.

Feeling like a soldier of the Great War myself at that moment, having awoken half dead in a trench on the front lines, I think of Teddy Roosevelt’s words about “faces marred by dust and sweat and blood,” the valient striving, the “great enthusiams, the great devotions.” And the “daring greatly.” All of us, one crazy family, strung out from from Squaw to Auburn, spending ourselves in this worthy cause, none possessing a cold or timid soul. Courageous. Bold. And maybe a fair amount of stubbornness and straight up stupidity as well.

One way or another I’ll be back to States again next year, hopefully to race, as I have some unfinished business, or volunteer and/or pace. In the meantime, I’m excited by the fact that I had no issues with my knee during the race or subsequently. I was late getting this race-report out because we stayed up in Tahoe for a week after States and I didn’t do sh*t. Back home now, I’m excited to be running everyday and hoping I have no issues with the knee moving forward. Fingers and toes crossed.

I finally ran the numbers yesterday and my run-specific training volume for States was a full 20% less than my build for Run Rabbit Run in August last year, which would make sense because had I had that 20% in me going in, it likely would’ve made the difference between being ready to rumble—versus being ready to crumble—at mile 80. I tried to make up the difference with cycling but nothing’s going to supplant the muscular endurance needed to pace the first 60 and push the final 40 of a 100 mile run.

A heartfelt thanks to Western States Race Director, Craig Thornley and his amazing team of staff and volunteers for putting on one helluva race. If I never have the opportunity to run it again, I know I made the most of my day and, along with a silver buckle, I have many wonderful memories I’ll cherish for a lifetime. It feels good to be part of the club!

13557868_10154379664696812_6962943801841384551_nA HUGE thanks to my super awesome, beautiful, highly supportive, rock-star wife, Amanda—always full of great ideas—for embracing the full Western States crewing experience along with her partner in crime for the day, Linn Secreto. It’s pretty cool having support out there and I appreciate you two running around all day helping to keep me going.

Louis Secreto, thanks for jumping in early buddy! That’s all I could do on the day. Thanks for helping me up-n-out of that briar patch. Looking forward to 50mi of pacing at your Tahoe Rim Trail 100 later this month. It’s going to be spectacular (at least for me). Hope your coach knows what he’s doing.

Thanks for all the support from friends and fans near and far. I actually didn’t start putting my name in or trying to race my way into Western States 100 until 2015 because we, as athletes, have to pick our battles carefully and the fact that Tahoe Rim Trail 100’s in July, affords me, as a school-teacher, the time to put up some big miles in June for this July event. But after running it four times and accomplishing all that I wanted to on that course, the time arrived to branch out and experience other 100s. All trails seem to lead back to Western States though. Now I see why.

One thing’s for sure: It’s getting more challenging to stay healthy and train/race for these crazy things. I’m grateful for all the encouragement and kind words I’ve received. I hope to be on that starting line again next year, do it better, and make good on that dream of a Top-10 finish. It’s right there…


Parting [shot] is such sweet sorrow. With Amanda. She got hugs. Paul Terranova got push-ups. Photo Credit: Linn Secreto

Thank you to Hoka One One for your continued support, innovation, and producing the best shoes out there—#timetofly!  |  Thanks to Vitargo for the steady energy and SIMPLIFYING my nutrition.  |  Thank you Healdsburg Running Company for the sweet #74 trucker hats. I appreciate all the wonderful support from the HRC/H-Burg crew!! | Victory Sportdesign produces the best drop-bags in the biz! | Thank you to Julbo Eyewear for the beautiful, functional, and comfortable sunglasses.  |  And a BIG 100 mile thanks to Dave Townsend at Santa Rosa Physical Therapy for helping me keep the dream alive. You helped me understand what course of action I needed to take to have my cake and eat it too this spring. You rock!

Shoe Review: Hoka One One Speed Instinct


I feel the need…

I started running in shoes from Hoka One One (pronounced “O-Nay O-Nay,” meaning  “to fly over the earth” in Maori) three years ago for the protection and comfort, especially while training for and running 100 milers. In training, benefits from running in Hokas includes decreased recovery time. That’s a big positive. And in racing, the most significant benefit is not having to think about my feet (at all) for 100 miles of mountain racing. I find this to be a highly desirable feature. Always looking for that edge over the competition, I eventually evolved away from my trusty Stinson as my “go-to” training/racing shoe to the Challenger ATR, and then on to the Challenger ATR 2 last season. This year I’ve been struggling to find a model that I have the same level of synergy with and that fits my foot no less than perfectly. That shoe could be Hoka One One’s new Speed Instinct.

Nine days out from Western States 100, the Speed Instinct shows up on my doorstep and within minutes I have them on, jogging around the house. This morning I put them through their paces trying to ascertain whether they’d not just be a good shoe for Western States, but—could it be?—the ideal shoe for this fast, furious, and infernal 100 miler? Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

Weight. The Speed Instinct weighs in [on my scale] at 8.9oz, (M8.5), exactly the same as the Challenger ATR 2. For comparison, the Speedgoat weighs in at 9.4oz while the Clayton tips the scales at 7.6oz. Note: while light, the Clayton, a road-shoe by design, makes for a very lithe trail shoe, given dry conditions. I want to see a pair of the Ironman Hawaii edition Claytons coming out this year closer to the race in October. Fierce!

Insole. Hey, look at that! Hoka inserted a thicker insole into the Speed Instinct than their standard insole. Niiiiice. And the quarter ounce of increased weight is super worth it, adding to the overall comfort of the shoe. Note: to ensure I never have to deal with an insole slipping in either training or—heaven forbid—in a race, I like to Gorilla Glue my insoles. Never again have to worry about them ever bunching up in the toe-box during a wet race or a hot race where you have to keep yourself wet then entire day for cooling purposes. Not that these thicker bad boys would ever slip in the first place, but… why risk it? I like knowing gorillas are holding my insoles in place. After all, a shoe takes a nasty beating over 100 miles.

Tongue and laces. The Speed Instincts have the same soft, thick tongue that we  see in the Challenger ATR 2. This has taken a while to grow on me since I was partial to the thin tongue in the previous generation Challenger. “Hey, change is constant Shebest, buck up!” I do think the thicker tongue contributes to the new Challenger being a little too snug, on my foot at least. This does not, however, feel like the case with the Speed Instinct. The stock laces we’ve seen on the Claytons are used in the Speed Instincts. I like these laces a lot. It’s a wider lace than comes on the Challenger and they stay tied. Yaah. Goood.

Toe box. This is a big one for me because I need to run in a Men’s 8.5 and my left foot’s a little wider than my right so it’s tough to keep that left foot happy. For States, toe box is a BIG deal since there’s 23,000′ of downhill running. And I really like running downhill, and in order to be downhill running well, later in the race, I need to keep my toes happy. In recent weeks’ long, hot training runs, the Clayton, with its spacious toe-box fits the bill, but, it’s a road shoe, with road tread, and the first 50k of Western States is likely to have some snow, mud, and tricky sections to negotiate, and the Clayton’s sole isn’t gonna cut it. Thus, my plan was to run in the Challengers through 50k or so, and then transition into the Claytons, which are super comfortable and run well soak-n-wet. I still might. Jury’s still out.

Tread. First impressions with the Speed Instinct is I might have a shoe that gives me a wider toe-box and the traction I need early on in the race. In the seven 100s I’ve done, I’ve always had spare shoes ready-n-waiting but have yet to actually change shoes in a race. I’d like to keep that trend going.

In the moment. When I first started climbing in the Speed Instincts this morning, I noticed I was getting a little heel slip. This was quickly remedied by simply tightening the laces closer to the top of the shoe. I recommended using that last lace eyelet at the top to help secure the shoe to your foot and prevent slippage, which is different from shrinkage.

The shoe climbs well, both running uphill, fast-hiking, and power-hiking. I was sure to not tighten the laces too much in the toe-box ’cause it’s really important for my foot comfort to have some room up there for the foot to naturally splay out, as I’m a total and complete mid-forefoot runner.

With only 8 days to go to Western States 100, I’m a little bummed I didn’t ask for this shoe sooner. I read some online reviews earlier this year but I’m terrible sometimes about trying something new and felt like the Challenger ATR would again be my shoe-of-choice for 2016, even if it was a little tight in the toe-box and seemed a little soft (like me). I made a big effort to get the Speedgoat to work for me but my left foot kept busting out of them. Totally sucked ’cause I love how the sole of the Speedgoat feels, especially on rocky, technical terrain. With the Speed Instinct, you have a sole that’s tougher, like the Speedgoat sole; you don’t feel those sharp rocks as much as you do in the Challengers or Claytons.

I popped out on the road and ramped it up to 6min pace for a few 100yds to get a sense of how the shoe responds running fast on the road. It doesn’t feel as amazing on road surface as does the Clayton, but to be fair, the Clayton is a road shoe after all. Furthermore, the Speed Instinct first strikes me as a shoe that may need a bit of a break-in period, but I’m also guessing it’s a durable shoe that will hold up well for 400 miles, or more.

Shocking! Western States is expected to be hot this year. Back at my car I brought a 24oz water-bottle with me, but… not for hydration but rather for the express purpose of pouring directly into my brand new shoes. Yes, I dumped about 12oz of water right into my shoes and headed back out on the trails to see how the shoe responds when saturated with water, as it’ll be on race-day due to regular water crossings and from the effects of cooling during the hottest part of the day. I can’t stand too much “squooshing” from a shoe when it’s wet. The Challenger ATR 2 is a little more squishier than its predecessor so I was quite pleased this morning to find the Speed Instincts are pretty quiet when wet, feel fine, and drain well.

Nearing the end of my run, I chose a steep, technical descent to bomb down to really get a sense of how the shoe responds and how my foot feels inside the toe-box. No problems. The shoe fits my foot snug but not as snug as my Challengers. The toe-box is not as wide as the Claytons but it appears to be wide enough. Overall, my hunch is this is going to make for a highly effective trail-racing shoe.

Decisions. At a minimum, I’ll start Western States in the Speed Instincts, since I need the traction and my toes will be happier after 30-50mi than they would be if I started off in the Challengers. I’ll have regular opportunities to go to my Claytons if the need arises. After all, I’ve not done a proper long run in the Speed Instincts so perhaps after 4-5hrs my feet will be begging for the Claytons, but I suspect that won’t be the case. I only have a handful of runs remaining before the big dance on the 25th. I’ll do these runs in the Speed Instincts to further break them in. Overall, a super comfortable shoe that feels fast while maintaining that high level of comfort and protection I demand from a running shoe. #seeyouinsquaw >>>😀

A great shoe complements and eccentuates your natural body mechanics. Run beautifully for longer.

Parting shot. A great shoe complements and even accentuates your natural body mechanics. Run beautifully for longer. Fly over the earth >>>

Faster than Twitter, thanks to my beautiful, loving, and highly supportive wife Amanda for her thankless job [even from afar] as “First Responder.”  |  Thank you to Julbo Eyewear for the beautiful, functional, and comfortable sunglasses. It’s GREAT to be working with you!  |  Thank you to Hoka One One for your continued support and producing the best shoes out there—#timetofly!  |  Thanks to Inside Trail Racing for offering so many fantastic races in great places.  |  Thanks to Vitargo for the steady energy and SIMPLIFYING my nutrition.  |  Thank you Healdsburg Running Company for all the wonderful support. HRC rocks! | Victory Sportdesign produces the best drop-bags in the biz! | Thanks to Dave Townsend at Santa Rosa Physical Therapy for helping me keep the dream alive!

The Canyons 100k

It’s 4:50am on Saturday, May 7th and I’m in Foresthill, CA, in my car, with the heater blasting listening to Kati Perry while studying It’s forecasting rain to start around 9am. I stuff a super thin rain-jacket in a shorts pocket and jog to the start. At 5am, The Canyons 100k is underway.

SingleTrack Running

Cruisin’ behind Peter Fain in the early miles. Photo Credit: Singletrack Running

From step one I knew it was going to be a good day running. My training told me so. My body told me so. And, since my sub-par North Face 50 back in December, my mind told me so as well. Confidence was high. Excitement was high. And I was bouncing along overjoyed to again be in the mix of another tough mountain ultra.


Canyons represented the final test to see if my ol’ knee was truly back to 100%. Would it hold up over 10hrs of racing with 15,000′ of cumulative descent? All of my emphasis in training for Canyons was on the flats, ups, and goin’ long, because it was hotdogging it on the downs racing at the end of 2015 that got me into trouble with the knee. Therefore, healed up good, Canyons would serve as a key downhill workout for Western States 100 in late June. And man, am I glad I did this race. I underestimated what that course would do to my quads! Dropping out of both Sean O’Brien 100k and Gorge Waterfalls 100k earlier in the season were tough decisions but I needed the time to both heal up and reinvent my ultra-run training. I still want my cake and want to eat it to, that is, I desired to have at least one ultra in my legs going into States with the objective of toeing the line 100% fit and healthy. In Feb, I felt that was a lot to ask of myself, thus demanding I restructure how I train.

For Canyons I took notes on Rob Krar’s post-race interview with USL.TV’s Jeff Miller after his win here in 2015, and worked mindfully in the first half of the race to try and set myself up for a quick run from Foresthill down to the River, on iconic trails many of which I’ve never had the privilege of running before.

I was coming in at a training peak but without the extra punch having a spring race or two would give me. That punch would come as a function of simply executing an effective 100k here though. My three primary objectives for Canyons 100k:  1.) the knee needed to hold up 2.) I needed to get some good downhill stress goin’ and 3.) I needed to not push too crazy hard up from the River at mile 48 to the finish so that I could limit recovery time and get back to quality 100-mile training as soon as practical since Western States would only be seven little weeks away.

The early miles were enjoyable and my body started waking up with the sunrise. There were four of us on the front including Luke Garten, Peter Fain, and the guy with the Irish accent, which I quickly deduced was Paddy O’Leary. We dropped lamps at Michigan Bluff, cruised up through El Dorado Creek, The Pump, then farther northeast until we heard  URP’s Eric Schranz’ alphorn at Devil’s Thumb. Switchbacks all the way down to Swinging Bridge following Luke and Paddy, where we got our obligatory bracelets and then it was up, up, back up to Devil’s Thumb.


Paddy back atop Devil’s Thumb with plenty of wind for the alphorn! Photo Credit: URP

The rain started coming down and temps were hovering around 50deg so I put on my wispy rain jacket and was psyched I’d decided to bring it along. I didn’t want to be forced to run harder just to keep my body warm at this early point in the race. Being comfortable keeps me happy, and if I’m happy, I’m moving well.

On the way back down toward El Dorado Creek we were rocking it. With the double out-n-back course layout, it’s fun to see everyone in the race, especially the four guys I’d coached to this event. This section was probably the most fun I had all day since it was still early and the running was effortless. Always holding a little back for that run down to the River from Foresthill though. The anticipation was electric!

And soon enough, it was just Paddy and I making the left on Bath Rd with him hitting the aid station about 10sec before me. As I arrived, I spied my Sonoma County buddy, Christopher Thomas, working the Foresthill aid-station, with my drop-bag. I said, “dump it” and handed him my HRM strap, picked up my two bottles of VitargoS2 and motored on down Cal St at 6min pace. Those tempo runs I did on the road made it feel pretty easy.



So… I’d asked the RD, Chaz Sheya, that morning just how far down Cal St the turn was, in an effort to prevent getting off course since I’d never run this section (and I have a healthy fear of getting off course). Yeah so, during the race, as I’m heading down Cal St. I see two pink ribbons on the left and none any farther down. So I go left, and run down the road a bit lookin’ for pink ribbon. I ask an old-timer on his porch if there’s a trail down here and he replies that it’s a dead end. Awesome. I turn around and run back toward Cal St, see Paddy and we exchange shoulder shrugs and make the obvious decision to run farther down Cal St to the proper left turn, where we quickly regain and follow the pink-ribbon-road down to Cal 1. 6:16 pace… Let’s do this!

Paddy’s been running like a champ all day and all I know about him at this point is that he’s run under 7hr at NF50 so he’s got a big engine and it’s bigger than mine. Later, after some online stalking I would discover Paddy won Inside Trail Racing’s Chabot 30k back in Feb, got 4th at Cool 50k with a 3:27, and threw in a 2:37 at Boston for good measure. Really Paddy? At this point in Canyons though, I’m pretty sure this is his first 100k, and shit can happen.

Without burying myself to try and go head-to-head on the way back up—to preserve something for States—I know my only plays are either open up a gap on the way down, which he’ll work to close by the finish line, or just simply outlast him. I’d have fun with dicing it up until the choice to shut it down became obvious. Until then, continuing to work hard all the way to the River would cap off a great day of strong downhill running. And my quads were really beginning to feel it. Daaaaaamn…

We run into Cal 1 together but since I’d picked up two bottles of Vitargo in Foresthill, I didn’t need anything. I told Paddy I’d see him back on the trail and cruised into the lead starting to think about trying to open up that gap. By Cal 2 I’d opened a 2min lead and then set my mind to the task of running the longest stretch without aid of about 8mi down to the River, to the turnaround at Ruck-a-Chucky.

Less than a quarter mile from the turnaround, as I was dreaming of having opened a 5min lead on 2nd, Paddy passes me on the left and floats away up toward the aid-station ahead. I stay with him. I dropped my bottles and the volunteers and I go on a little easter egg hunt for my drop-bag (an occupational hazard of sorts of running on the front—aid stations aren’t always ready for you). We find it and I grab my fresh bottles and hightail it outta there. About a mile later, Paddy catches me and moves ahead. “Well, kid’s a hellava runner,” I think to myself. “You’ve done a good job here today Shebest. Execution’s been solid, knee’s held up, and your speed’s there. Keep pluggin’ and get this 100k in the bank for States. You’re right where you wanna be.”

As I ran up I was looking at my watch to see my growing split to 3rd place. Expecting to see Luke or Peter, I was surprised (not-that-surprised) to see fellow Hoka One One teammate, Magda Boulet. At that point I only had 40min on her, so I knew I’d better keep a move on.

In damage control mode now, it was nice to have good climbing legs, although I was ready to be done, pretty tired from all the hard work I’d put in running with the kid all day. That made the race for me though. I’m still amazed how being in the flow of racing makes the hours just float by. Magical. Eventually, I ran into Luke and two members of Paddy’s crew, shot the breeze with them for a minute and got back to the task of getting my tired ass back up to Cal 2, by which point, by the way, Paddy had put 15min into me from the River. Whatever. 😉

Between Cal 2 and Cal 1 I ran into a different nemesis, in the form of Eric Skaden and we reminisced about all the times he handed my ass to me in various races like TRT100 and Miwok 100k. It was good to see him out there and get to chat a bit about Western States training and execution.

Thank God it’s not 5 or 6mi from Cal2 back up to Cal St. I was very much ready to be done, though still in very high spirits. Today was just a sweet, sweet day of running and I was so grateful to be healthy, moving, and getting one last race in before my birthday on Monday. Climbing back up Cal St to the finish at Foresthill Elementary School was pretty cool. I looked over my shoulder a few times to see if Magda was going to run me down, which I thought was going to happen at any moment in the final 5 kilometers. I said in jest at the finish line, “Never trust an Olympian!).


Finish. Whew! Photo Credit: Chris Perillo

Man, it felt good to arrive at the finish. Canyons is one badass race! And if it’s good enough for Magda, going in to to defend her States title, I’m feeling pretty damn good about having done it as well. I’m giving myself about 10 days of no running then really looking forward to a robust 3-week training block for the big dance. School’s out for summer on the 27th, so I’m really looking forward to the singular focus being off from work will afford me to concentrate on simply executing perfectly on June 25th. #noexcuses


With the winners! Photo Credit: Chaz Sheya

This will be my very first Western States 100. I’ll have just turned 42 years young. I don’t, however, have the luxury of time to eventually “figure it out” like I did with my four Tahoe Rim Trail 100s. I’m lookin’ at it this way—those TRTs were like the four years it takes to get a Bachelor’s degree. Similarly, Pine to Palm 100 and San Diego 100 earned me a Masters. I started my PhD with Run Rabbit Run last September and hope to defend my dissertation in Mountain Ultrarunning, here in my 8th 100-miler at the Western States 100. Believe! Believe! Believe!


Challenger 2 ATR from Hoka One One. This shoe got 1st and 2nd at this years Canyons 100k. #TimeToFly


Parting Shot:  Hangin’ with the HRC crew at Scena Performance’s Hood Vertical Challenge a week out from Canyons. Yeah, it was tough not to participate!

Faster than Twitter, thanks to my beautiful, loving, and highly supportive wife Amanda for her thankless job [even from afar] as “First Responder.”  |  Thank you to Julbo Eyewear for the beautiful, functional, and comfortable sunglasses. It’s GREAT to be working with you!  |  Thank you to Hoka One One for your continued support and producing the best shoes out there—#timetofly!  |  Thanks to Inside Trail Racing for offering so many fantastic races in great places.  |  Thanks to Vitargo for the steady energy and SIMPLIFYING my nutrition.  |  Thank you Healdsburg Running Company for all the wonderful support. HRC rocks! | Victory Sportdesign produces the best drop-bags in the biz! | Thanks to Dave Townsend at Santa Rosa Physical Therapy for helping me keep the dream alive!

Getting Back to Business

Photo Credit: Let's Wander Photography

North Face Endurance Challenge – Dec 2015. Photo Credit: Let’s Wander Photography

As runners, it’s tough not to run. And when something’s hurting (and it’s not going away) it weighs heavy on our minds. Denial can sometimes be stretched out for weeks, even months. After dealing with an injury a year ago, however, I was a bit wiser this time around, and recognized the need to get some help with my issue, rather than procrastinate as I’d done before, just increasing the time it took me to come back to healthy, happy running. The hardest part was taking the first step, before things really got outta hand.

SRPTlogoAt the end of Jan, an x-ray and MRI at Kaiser revealed I had some nasty stuff going on inside my left knee (likely my right too but not as severe). Here’s the blog-post about it with MRI results. Now of all times, this was an especially shitty time to have an “injury” to deal with, since, for the first time, I’m entered in this year’s Western States 100, held at the end of June. But as happens with many ultrarunners, we tend to run ourselves into the ground. And living in the Bay Area, man it’s not hard to do since there’s such a wealth of wonderful trail running events. Peer pressure and supporting sponsors are contributing factors as well. Well that, and racing is fun! So yeah, at the end of 2015, I ran myself into the ground, but mind you, for what I perceived as an essential reason (see previous post for more on that).

So the knee was really pissed at me and I now knew exactly why. The next step was to visit Dave Townsend at Santa Rosa Physical Therapy. Whenever I feel it’s the “beginning of the end” [of my running], Dave gives me hope, and that leads to [patiently] bringing my running back to life, and with renewed gratitude.

Kaiser suggested I take 8 weeks off with no running or cycling. That made me really nervous because I knew two months away could really put me in a hole, out of which would take some time to recapture the fitness I wanted to have in the bank by June. I wasn’t prepared to think about running Western States in any other form but excellent. I need confidence to be high, for this, my eight 100mi trail run, and one that’s on a pretty big stage. I might not get another opportunity to run this bad boy. I need to make this one count!

Dave did a thorough assessment of my situation, and we discussed how and why my left side was dealing with yet another stress-related injury, now two in the last 16 months. After this assessment, Dave and I went to work on creating a rehab routine that included a variety of stretching and strengthening exercises. I’ve done them religiously since our meeting back at the start of Feb. I’ll be 42 this year, and what I’ve learned—the hard way—-is that if I want to keep running at a high level, I have to be increasingly vigilant about giving my body more TLC in the form of foam-rolling, yoga, the use of Trigger Point balls, cycling, strength training etc. Yet again, my run training needed a face-lift. I needed to evolve and I had plenty of time in Feb to think about how I wanted Mar-Jun to roll out, in order to give myself the best chance of running well at States on 6/25.


February – No Running. Weeks in ascending order chronologically. Source:

As you can see I was really into the cross-training during the work-week starting out in early Feb. Intuition (and a little ego) told me it’d be okay to do a long ride on Sunday, which I felt was necessary to at least break even with my fitness once I returned in March. That first Sunday I hit 100mi, which I found was me trying to show myself I was still strong and could do a bike workout that felt similar to my standard Sunday long run. The knee didn’t hurt but the notion that I really needed to use this month wisely, to really recover, started to sink in, through my thick, stubborn skull. Thus, I just focused on morning TLC sessions, doing my SRPT routine mixed in with some yoga. I walked to work a lot as well. The weather in Feb was dry so I was lucky to be able to consistently get out on Sunday for long rides. I focused on hitting long, sustained climbs in my Zone 2 (ultrarunning HR zone).

My wife, Amanda, also helped nurse my knee back to health with a variety of remedies including mixing up some Essential Oil blends as well as having a friend of hers make me some amazing bone broth (I drank a cup every morning and night for a few weeks. Amanda also researched and got me a variety of supplements that I’m still taking, more out of fear at this point than anything. I’m grateful how smart and proactive she is, dealing with her unreasonable, grumpy-when-injured, ultrarunning husband.


Ease back into running. Weeks in ascending order. Source:

March 1st couldn’t come fast enough, and my patience was indeed wearing thin. I was itching to run. Coming back, I knew I had to continue exercising restraint. There’s just too much on the line this year, to take unwarranted risks. So, I figured running every 72hrs (3 days) starting back would allow my knee to continue strengthening while easing back into run training. Those first few runs were pretty wonky. I wasn’t confident at all my knee was ready to come back to the stress of running. By the weekend, however, things felt a lot better. The following Monday, I felt I was ready for a quality session. And since it was my downhill running that overtaxed the knee, I felt an [up]hill session was a wise choice for the first quality session back. That went well and so, encouraged, I did a tempo run 72 hours later followed by a Sunday long run 3 days after the tempo run. It felt so good to run up at Lake Sonoma, even if I did get tangled up in a bunch of briars while swimming across a flooded section of trail from recent heavy rains. I’ll take it!

According to plan, I just wanted to get my feet back under me, build a bit of fitness, then take the next 5 days or so to really recover and absorb those initial quality sessions. This time off preceded my Spring Break from teaching, which, including weekends would be ten days in duration (3/19 – 3/28). With all that time off I could easily over do it…


Spring Break Training – 3/19 – 3/28 (10 days). Weeks in ascending order. Source:

I love hilly long runs. Naturally, this is why I gravitate to long, hilly ultrarunning events. They speak to my heart and soul. Thus, I planned it out to conduct four long runs over the 10 day spring break. Where once I would’ve done a long run every other day (and more heavily accumulate fatigue) I decided it best to stick to my 72-hour rule, which had been working well since I started back running. The plan was to hit the first long run that first day off, which coincided with the Lake Sonoma 50mi Training Runs anyway, and Lake Sonoma doesn’t have the long, steep descents that I find at Hood Mountain & Sugarloaf Ridge. Essentially, Lake Sonoma would be a little friendlier to my knee for this first “official” long run back.

My long runs were then scheduled as follows: Saturday, Tuesday, Friday, and Monday. The day after the long run would be a non-running day where I’d get out and ride the bike, easy, for a few hours, just spinning the legs. The day before the long run, I decided to do double days. But, running twice in a day didn’t seem like a wise decision considering my knee, so I decided to make the morning session a pretty easy fast-hike wearing my 20lb weight vest. I get a kick out of this session because I’m killing two birds with one stone, i.e., practicing a skill—fast-hiking—that’s important in ultrarunning while getting some strength stimulus from the vest. I soon started listening to podcasts during this session as well. Eventually I’m going to integrate minimalist shoes since the session’s only an hour, I’m not running, and stress on the legs is minimal. Seems to me a cool place to get my feet even more in touch with the trail. Hoka’s got some very light, more minimalist style shoes that’ll work well for this particular session.

Another point of note: now two days removed from the long run, I was feeling the effects of the long run and felt validated in the decision to run long every three days versus every other day. We feel the effects of Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness (DOMS) most two days after a hard session. With the extra day of recovery, I feel we can not only arrive more fresh to the next quality session, but increase the duration of that session, deriving even more quality from it. Because most of us are slaves to the 7-day work-week, we can’t take full  advantage of this 10-day training cycle that a lot of pro endurance athletes use. If/when life presents the opportunity to employ it, I highly recommend trying it out! Quality sessions are more fun when the body (and mind!) are fresh. Weekly training volume is what it is.

The PM session—opposite the weight vest session—is what I now refer to as the “Easy. Light. Smooth,” or “ESL” run, whose name I stole from Chris McDougall’s book, Born to Run, documenting how the Tarahumara Indian tribe runs—Easy, light, and smooth. Recall, this session is my first actual run since the long run two days prior so I want to use it to gauge how I’m coming off the long run before I ask my body to do another one. As it turned out, the method turned out to be very effective. Endurance sports training 101: Keep the easy days easy so the hard days can actually be hard. And in a long run, the quality comes from duration not intensity.

For the subsequent three long runs, I wanted to get out to my fave place to train here locally—Hood/Sugarloaf, where I spend much of the time just going uphill, which is great for me ’cause that’s my limiter in ultra racing. And all the low-impact uphill work didn’t affect my knee. Over the whole spring break I was very reasonable and controlled with my descending (my strength), which unfortunately places incredible demands on the knees, especially in races that last 7-19 hours! Anyway, I really enjoyed these last three 5+ hour runs with around 8000′ of climb each. The streams are flowing and everything’s green. The temps were down and I could easily get around my loop on one 300cal bottle of Vitargo for hydration. That will not be the case as the season heats up!

Spring Break Running Totals: 147mi w/ 36,000′ of elevation gain/loss

Thus my spring break served its purpose—establish a strong foundation moving forward with training and get some very specific work for the 16,000′ of elevation gain/loss at Canyons 100k on May 7th. I’ll hope to have this wonderful opportunity to race on the Western States 100 course, but also get to compete one more time whilst I’m still 41 (I turn 42 just two days later). I love getting to race on or near my actual birthday. Provides some extra incentive! I will, however, have to keep my eyes on the prize and listen to my body during Canyons. If the knee’s really talkin’ to me, I might have to make a tough decision and drop in order to, as I tell athletes I coach, “preserve the future.” I do anticipate racing strong from start to finish but given that Canyons is only 7 weeks out from States, I just have to be careful. There’s a big difference between doing an easy 5-hour long run and racing a demanding 100k. My plan is to arrive to the starting line of Canyons very fit and fresh so I can not only race effectively but also recover very well in time to get back to a training block for States, which I’m very excited to do!


Psyched and super grateful to back on board with HOKA ONE ONE this year. Lots of great new models to try out and keep me running strong. It’s gonna be another awesome season!!



Equally psyched to back on board with the fastest muscle fuel out there—VitargoS2. And by the way, the new watermelon flavor is the!!

Faster than Twitter, thanks to my beautiful, loving, and highly supportive wife Amanda for her thankless job [even from afar] as “First Responder.”  |  Thank you to Julbo Eyewear for the beautiful, functional, and comfortable sunglasses. It’s GREAT to be working with you!  |  Thank you to Hoka One One for your continued support and producing the best shoes out there—#LetsGoHoka!  |  Thanks to Inside Trail Racing for offering so many fantastic races in great places.  |  Thanks to Vitargo for the steady energy and SIMPLIFYING my nutrition.  |  Thank you Healdsburg Running Company for all the wonderful support. HRC rocks! | Victory Sportdesign produces the best drop-bags in the biz! | Thanks to Dave Townsend at Santa Rosa Physical Therapy for helping me keep the dream alive!

Check Engine Light

With three straight ultrarunning seasons in me, one thing’s increasingly clear: I’m at a point of diminishing returns. To continue improving I have to keep working on what I have control over, namely volume and intensity of training while exploring some shorter race distances to help build greater power and speed. In 2015, with two successful 100mi campaigns in the bank, I found myself in early November wondering where my desire to put up big weeks of training had gone. North Face Endurance Challenge… you temptress! Alas, there was little training mojo but in the words of Jack London, “You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.” Racing always seem like fun. Why not race more, train less and see if I can’t work on that power/speed development?!!

The overarching plan at the end of 2015 was to “get fast” so I could race my way into Western States 100 at either Sean O’Brien 100k in February or at Gorge Waterfalls 100k in April. All these years of racing, I know how to mix up a good training/racing cocktail to achieve my long-term goals. So I raced fast and often over a 3-week period leading into North Face. I was sure to chop the volume since the intensity went up. It was a lot of fun and I felt like the experience would serve me well in the long-term.

As luck would have it, my golden ticket to States fell into my lap in mid-November as a result of the work I did with Tahoe Mountain Milers at both Western and Tahoe Rim Trail last summer. So I no longer needed to race my in at Sean O’Brien or Gorge. Yet, I still wanted to race those events, and badly. That’s what we do—we sign up for event, train hard, taper, and go big (then repeat the cycle). All the while, health often gets taken for granted.

After North Face at the beginning of December I pretty much shut it down and really wasn’t doing much exercise at all in the weeks after. As a masters runner now, I’m realizing this is a very bad idea; I really need to keep moving. I need to ride the bike more and keep things lubricated. After a couple weeks I went out and did some short trail runs only to find my left knee was givin’ me hell. I experienced an intermittent sharp pain under my patella. It was there. It was not there. Go to the bike. Work it out. Mix the cocktail. Find the solution. Manage it. Run. Pain’s better! Okay, ease back in…

The injury litmus test I’ve always used is if the pain subsides as the run progresses, you’re probably good. If the pain gets worse, you got a problem and you should back off the running and accept you have an issue that needs attention. My knee pain subsided and I chalked it up to a weird niggle that ultimately seems to have originated from racing two tough 30k’s too close together back in Nov; then piling more stress on top of that in order to encourage increased speed and mental fitness for the spring. By mid-January, Sean O’Brien (SOB) training was finally starting to come together:  a 70mi week with 15,000′ of elevation, backed up with an 80mi week with 18,000′ of gain. No knee pain, but… was somethin’ still goin’ on in there??

I wanted to put up one more big week of training before taking a rest week and then sharpening the week into SOB. Monday came rolling around and I noticed some mild swelling. Hmm, not good. After having dealt with a different stress related issue in the same leg a year before, I knew the best path was to take the issue seriously and get some help sooner than later. After a week, the swelling was just about gone and things were looking good again.

I followed through with my promise to myself and went in to see my sports doc and we hashed it out. “The x-ray looks good and I see no need for an MRI, but if you want one we can do it. Are you sure you wanna know what’s goin’ on in there?” We set up the MRI for later that same day. With Western States on the line, I needed to know exactly what I was dealing with, and if racing two tough 100k’s this spring was even in the cards.

This was 10 days out from Sean O’Brien. I had my plane tickets, car, and hotel booked. I was super stoked to race. My 3-month plan to arrive to Feb fast and fit looked like it had worked well. I would use SOB and Gorge as stepping stones to my States-specific training in May and June. Perfect! I asked my doc if I could go out and do my tempo run on the road before the MRI that afternoon. He said, “Why not?” The MRI would be what it was going to be anyway. Since I’d rested for a week and absorbed that last week of training I was on a tapered high starting this run. I zipped through a 14-miler on rolling country roads averaging low 6s the whole way—great! Average HR was in the high 140s—great! Green light for SOB 100k!!

My MRI revealed the following (see below). Everyone keeps telling me that it’s not as bad as it sounds. Well, I’m thinking, it doesn’t feel as bad as it sounds, so…

Moderate marrow edema within the anterior pole and body of the
patella likely representing stress related changes with stress
reaction/fracture. Additional probable stress related change involving the medial
femoral condyle and lateral tibial plateau. Focal deep chondral fissuring of the inferior central patellar cartilage.  Small joint effusion.

My doc went over my MRI results with me and suggested I take some time away from running to allow the knee to heal up. It was a bit counter-intuitive to see there was indeed, havoc going on inside my knee, yet I just had a great tempo run 2 hours prior with no issues at all. Well, what now?

In my early 20’s I drove my dad’s old Isuzu Trooper we got when I was in 6th grade. I put some big miles on that beast. By summer ’96 I don’t think there was a light on that dashboard that wasn’t illuminated. I drove it straight into the ground.

Clearly, ignorance wouldn’t likely lead to the bliss I’m seeking at the Western States 100 finish line in June, so just like that, Sean O’Brien was out (for the second year in a row). And after looking at at least a month away from running, so is Gorge Waterfalls. Trying to “force fitness” for Gorge—not to mention the stress of the race itself—could possibly lead right back to where I am now, or worse. I was bummed about SOB since I was looking to do well there, and Gorge, because I wanted to go back and improve upon last year’s performance. And yeah, it would’ve been cool to Top-2 at SOB and/or Gorge to prove—at least to myself—that I could earn my way in through racing, even if I no longer needed to do so. I’ll have to remain content with what I’ve done at the 100mi distance over the last 3 seasons. That’s confidence enough.


Rehabbing the knee. Photo Credit: Dave Townsend

We play the cards we’re dealt. I’ve stopped running and have gone in to Santa Rosa Physical Therapy and got some great PT stuff to help balance me out since this is the second stress-related issue on my left side, along with some reassurance that I’m looking good for a full recovery in time to come back right and do a proper build to Canyons 100k two days before my birthday in May. Naturally, I’d love to come into States having raced at least one ultra. And I’m feeling the good mojo with Canyons—100k with 14,000′ of vert. If I can train properly and hit 70-80mi running with 15-20k’ of gain with no knee swelling, it’ll be game-on. Otherwise, more rest could be needed and I’ll have to come into Western not having raced, which though not ideal, wouldn’t be that bad as long as the training’s there in May/June. It’s all about the preparation. Ultimately, knee-be-damned; I’ll baby it now, but come the end of June, it’s go-time.

Things are progressing well. I’m doing the PT every morning along with yoga and foam-rolling. I’m practicing fast-hiking on trail with a 20lb weight vest a few times per week, spinning, strength training, and did my first century ride over hilly terrain last weekend. That was a nice 7-hr effort. No pain during and no post-ride swelling. Yeah, I’m missing trail-running but it’s a no-brainer right now to take the rest given my goals later this year.

In parting, check out this sweet vid from Ultra Muse from last year’s Run Rabbit Run 100. That was a crazy day where I just stayed within myself and allowed the race to come to me. Hoping to be back in September (knee willing!).

Faster than Twitter, thanks to my beautiful, loving, and highly supportive wife Amanda for her thankless job [even from afar] as “First Responder.”  |  Thank you to Julbo Eyewear for the beautiful, functional, and comfortable sunglasses. It’s GREAT to be working with you!  |  Thank you to Hoka One One for your continued support and producing the best shoes out there—#LetsGoHoka!  |  Thanks to Inside Trail Racing for offering so many fantastic races in great places.  |  Thanks to Vitargo for the steady energy and SIMPLIFYING my nutrition.  |  Thank you Healdsburg Running Company for all the wonderful support. HRC rocks! | Victory Sportdesign produces the best drop-bags in the biz! | Thanks to Dave Townsend at Santa Rosa Physical Therapy for helping me keep the dream alive!






NF50: Shooting From the Hip


Finish #5 here at North Face Endurance Challenge. Photo Credit: KC Hope Kennedy

Change the way you look at things and the things you look at change. Post Run Rabbit Run 100 in Sept, I felt pretty content with my season and decided to DNS Javelina 100 in October. There just wasn’t enough time to recover and do Javelina the way I would like to do it. Plus, the mojo to keep training just wasn’t there and the body niggles were. With the primary objective still being finding a way into Western States for 2016, I knew I’d likely be targeting Sean O’Brien (SOB) 100k in Feb and Gorge Waterfalls 100k in Apr, as my “golden ticket” opportunities. So, my plan for the fall was to keep things pretty loose before resurrecting the dedication needed to really excel at those two golden opportunities. Also, remaining injury-free has been very high on my list o’ priorities. With solid endurance in the bank from two successful 100mi campaigns this year, I wanted to give myself some solid racing experiences. These have come in the form some shorter, fun, fast, and competitive efforts—Sonoma Trail Marathon, Mt. Tam 30k, Peacock Gap 30k, a trail turkey trot, and North Face 50. All of these events have really pushed me outside my comfort zone and I’m excited for all that lies ahead.

Luckily, on Nov. 19th, Tahoe Mountain Milers punched my States ticket for me (see previous blog-post) and the tables were turned; I no longer have to race my way into States. I now have the option of doing SOB and/or Gorge. If I’d known earlier that I’d get in, I would not have signed up for SOB in early Feb and made North Face a higher priority. One cannot always have his cake and eat it too. So, the final 5 weeks before NF, I was averaging 30mi weeks total volume, but giving myself some rich racing experience needed to sharpen for the spring. I was also hoping I’d have decent enough fitness to achieve two objectives at NF50—win the Masters division and set a personal best for the course. All things considered those goals seemed reasonable.


Start line. 5am. Fully caffeinated.

I really didn’t know what to expect from low volume training weeks while having two hard 30k’s in my legs (Mt. Tam 30k on 11/14 and Peacock Gap 30k on 11/21) along with a fast little 3.5mi trail turkey trot in my legs on Thanksgiving (hey, it was legit!). Confidence, however, was fine because all my events this year, I’ve demonstrated I can always gut out a decent second half when I have to. At North Face, I wanted to explore the edges a little and see what kind of race I could put together. I had nothing to lose here so I wanted to let it all hang out and learn more about myself.

Climb out of Muir Beach. At least it wasn't muddy.

“Learning about myself” on the climb out of Muir Beach. At least it wasn’t muddy this year.

The race plan was simple: give some attention to pushing the heart-rate for the first 30mi and then switch over to average race-pace at mile 30 and tough it out to the finish. My average HR from a previous NF50 was 142bpm. My avgHR from those two November 30k’s was each 153bpm. I wanted to keep my foot on the gas and run at the higher limits of my aerobic zone and see what I could pull off. My avgHR through the half was 150bpm. I knew it was likely unsustainable, but this was unchartered territory for me. I’d never done so much intensity leading up to a 50-miler either! I was learning and the learning will lend so much to my 2016 season. This experience was about finding a way to continue evolving as an ultrarunner. “Only those who go too far…”

Six miles in, I saw Jorge Maravilla and Dylan Boman float way on a climb while I rode my personal red-line, pacing at the limits of my aerobic potential on the day. Once the sun came up, a train came by, with conductor Jason Schlarb on the front. I wanted to go, but I couldn’t answer the call. Norway’s Sondre Amdahl had been hanging out a minute or two ahead of me all morning and I knew he was likely in the lead for the Masters. We met at the Western States Training Camp this year and I’ve been following his adventures on social media ever since. I slowly reeled him and and encouraged him to keep on pluggin. Hoping I was now the top Master, I knew Paul Terranova would likely be the next 40-plusser I’d run into, so I’d have to stay focused and in front of him, at all costs!

Looking forward to making the switch in mindset from aggressive pacing to “racing” I looked at my Suunto and it was creeping slowly up to 30 miles. Up some switchbacks it read 29.95mi, and as I rounded another 180deg turn, I spied Terranova… right behind me. We hit some rolling flat, my watch rolled over 30mi, I switched to avgPace and saw 8:19/mi total race pace. Man, if I could only hold that, I’d go under 7 hours here. That’d be awesome! Would those 30k’s actually trump the big volume weeks I normally do? My legs are already starting to cramp. Need more salt.

Yeah, so it was a rough last 20mi but NF50 served its purpose—help toughen me up for 2016. I did manage to accomplish my two goals, though barely. I was only 4min in front of Paul by the finish and only improved my best time on this course by 1min. All things considered, it’s been a great month of racing.

The warm embrace of the NFSCA finish line.

The warm embrace of the NF50 finish line. AvgHR of 144bpm…

With North Face in the books, I’m taking 3 weeks off from running to rest up, do some cycling, strength training, and yoga. I wanted to navigate this fall season smart so that I’d arrive at the door of 2016 injury-free, and maybe just a little bit tougher. I still am planning on SOB 100 in early Feb with my sites set on racing Gorge Waterfalls 100k in early April to the very best of my ability. I have a score to settle with that event. Looking at the big picture, my thinking is that executing well at both SOB and Gorge will really set the stage for a strong showing at Western. One step at a time…

Parting Shot: With the Hoka Family at Tamalpie in Mill Valley post-race.

Parting Shot: With the Hoka Family at Tamalpie in Mill Valley post-race.

Faster than Twitter, thanks to my beautiful, loving, and highly supportive wife Amanda for her thankless job [even from afar] as “First Responder.”  |  Thank you to Julbo Eyewear for the beautiful, functional, and comfortable sunglasses. It’s GREAT to be working with you!  |  Thank you to Hoka One One for your continued support and producing the best shoes out there—#LetsGoHoka!  |  Thanks to Inside Trail Racing for offering so many fantastic races in great places.  |  Thanks to Vitargo for the steady energy and SIMPLIFYING my nutrition.  |  Thank you Healdsburg Running Company for all the wonderful support. HRC rocks! | Victory Sportdesign produces the best drop-bags in the biz! 

Western States & North Face

2015 Western States 100. Lyon Ridge Aid-Station (mi10) with Tahoe Mountain Milers.

2015 Western States 100. Lyon Ridge Aid-Station (mi10) with Tahoe Mountain Milers.

The year is winding down and there’s already lots of buzz about the 2016 season. Names are starting to trickle down onto that coveted Western States 100 entrants list. And much to my surprise and delight, I’m on it! I volunteered with Tahoe Mountain Milers (TMM) this year at States and that put me in their raffle for a shot at getting into States. Each aid-station gets to send one representative. Last year, I think TMM had just two entrants and I wasn’t one of them. So, on November 19th, the day of the TMM drawing, they had five entrants in the raffle, which makes sense, considering the growing interest in the event. TMM helps run my beloved Tahoe Rim Trail Endurance Runs, including the Tahoe Rim Trail 100, my first 100-miler back in 2009 and where I fell in love (became obsessed) with the 100 mile distance. I would go on to run TRT100 again in 2010, 2013, and 2014. This year, after running San Diego 100 in early June, I ran TRT50, then got “coerced” into pacing a friend in the 100. So it seems, I’d built up enough trail karma to have my name drawn on that Thursday night after 9pm.

Photo Credit: Tahoe Mountain Milers

Photo Credit: Tahoe Mountain Milers

Running with the gale force of TMM in my sails will be a huge motivator in the prep for States as well as running smart and strong on race-day. To come through the TMM aid-station at mile 10 and see the folks that made my race possible… well, I imagine it’ll be challenging to keep myself composed. Until June though, the focus will be on integrating all I’ve learned from the seven 100s I’ve trained for and raced, then do my best to nail the States prep and execute to the best of my ability on that big day in June . Excited for the opportunity and grateful I get to run Western whilst I’m still at the top of my game. As can be expected, I do have some lofty goals planned.

Inside Trail Racing Mt. Tam 30k (11/14). Photo Credit:

Inside Trail Racing Mt. Tam 30k (11/14). Photo Credit:

Backing it up to where we are now on the calendar, it’s a mere 5 days out from yet another North Face Endurance Challenge 50-miler. The difference a year makes! Twelve months back I was out-of-commission with a compression fracture sitting on my ass in Auburn, biting my nails at the Western States Lottery. I remember thinking to myself the whole time: I wish I were racing North Face… I wish I were racing North Face…

After Run Rabbit Run 100 in September, the idea of putting up 80mi weeks for North Face in December didn’t seem like a good idea. Nor did it seem like a lot of fun. Once October hit and I started getting back to running, I figured endurance was in the bank and that what I really was getting jazzed about was shifting gears and doing some faster stuff. After establishing some base miles post-Run Rabbit, I went out and did two Inside Trail Racing 30k’s, on consecutive Saturdays in November, hoping that the experiences would do something special for my North Face 50 on 12/5.

ITR's Mt. Tam 30k with the Bearded Gull, Travis Weller, and Alex Varner (pre-Quad Dipsea CR fame)

ITR’s Mt. Tam 30k with the Bearded Gull, Travis Weller, and Alex Varner (pre-Quad Dipsea CR fame)

I enjoyed the 30k’s more than I expected. I believe that had something to do with the fact I’d been doing hard sessions all year long, so the 30k intensity wasn’t so overwhelming. I typically run a 50miler around 142bpm and both these 30k’s averaged out to be at 153. I’m hopeful I can push the HR at NF a bit higher than normal for the first 30mi and still feel controlled, since I’ll have these bad boys in my legs!

Mental toughness must be mined and I recognize these guys down in Marin have it in truckloads—getting to push one another on a basis that’s as regular as they want it. Thus, the task at hand at Tam was really racing (like running fast for a change) and fighting hard over the whole 2.5ish hours, and still come in down the results list. The whole is greater than the sum of it’s parts!

Inside Trail Peacock Gap 30k (11/21). Photo Credit:

Inside Trail Peacock Gap 30k (11/21). Photo Credit:

A week later, at Peacock Gap, at China Camp, Ukiah’s Ewe Ferrara was again racing after edging me out by quite a few minutes at Tam. Seems like I can catch him in a 50k or longer but just can’t hang at shorter distances, like those totaling some 19-ish miles. When he worked his way around me after a couple of miles, I took advantage of the opportunity and pushed pretty hard just to keep him in sight for some 10 painstaking miles. I like I think I can run downhill well. I was bested toward the end of the race when Ewe dropped me on a long, technical downhill. I definitely got was I was looking for by racing on these two occasions. At 29, Ewe’s getting stronger and tougher with each race. I am hoping to pay him back though at North Face on Saturday!

Healdsburg 3.5mi Trail Turkey Trot on 11/26. Photo Credit: KC Hope Kennedy

Healdsburg 3.5mi Trail Turkey Trot on 11/26. Photo Credit: KC Hope Kennedy

To get one last shot of speed in my legs, I had to go do the Turkey Trot, put on by Scena Performance and sponsored by Healdsburg Running Company and Nuya Nutrition. This NF prep’s been a dramatic break in how I normally train for ultras, but I do feel that there’s a time for all things under heaven, so to speak, and sharpening with races seemed like what my body and mind were up for, whereas, so often, the urge to keep stacking up big weeks seems as much or more appealing. In the end, my hope is that I’ll get through NF actually having placed less cumulative stress on my body while getting to the start-line on Saturday with greater fitness than if I’d just continued running big miles. Time will tell.

That turkey trot though? No joke. Turns out Scena decided to make it a pretty sweet little trail race of about 3.5mi in distance. Thankfully, I had those two recent 30k’s in my legs and head, ’cause I needed every bit of fitness to race this hard from beginning to end. Funny too, ’cause I’m in this NF50 head-space and just treated this turkey trot like it was an A-Pri event. The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in war.

I arrived a good hour before race start at 9am. Temps were hovering around freezing and I had on all my cold weather clothes from Run Rabbit Run back in Sept. (I had washed them). I was still feeling Peacock Gap, five days earlier. My legs were slow to warm up. I ran the majority of the course twice during the warm-up. Pretty funny since most races I run, there’s no way you’re going to see the whole course in the morning before the start, let alone run it twice. What a treat! Anyway, the warm-up and course knowledge helped me form a plan of attack to try and stay in front of the youngsters. After summiting the final little climb—at about mile 2!—it was downhill running on some technical stuff then a return to flat black-top to the finish. Strava said I was doing 5:03 pace that final half-mile to the finish. Crazy fun. The technical downhill helped me open up a gap. I edged out 2nd place by a whopping 32 seconds. Again, super fun to run fast. I need to keep doing more of this kind of stuff—at least the 30k’s!—to build some rockin’ leg speed for States, while being very mindful of over-racing and increasing chance of injury.

I’m hoping I have that extra gear over the final 20mi of North Face this weekend. I’m more fired up for this one than any of the other 4 I’ve done. Not having raced last year certainly has contributed to the stoke!

Parting Shot: Nothing like bringing home a puppy to ensure a quiet, relaxing race-week!

Parting Shot: Nothing like bringing home a puppy to ensure a quiet, relaxing race-week!

Faster than Twitter, thanks to my beautiful, loving, and highly supportive wife Amanda for her thankless job [even from afar] as “First Responder.”  |  Thank you to Julbo Eyewear for the beautiful, functional, and comfortable sunglasses. It’s GREAT to be working with you!  |  Thank you to Hoka One One for your continued support and producing the best shoes out there—#LetsGoHoka!  |  Thanks to Inside Trail Racing for offering so many fantastic races in great places.  |  Thanks to Vitargo for the steady energy and SIMPLIFYING my nutrition.  |  Thank you Healdsburg Running Company for all the wonderful support. HRC rocks! | Victory Sportdesign produces the best drop-bags in the biz! 

2015 Run Rabbit Run 100

“So as he rose for the shot he concentrated on trying to do something he had learned skin diving: not to care. Underwater he had learned to be detached, because to be in a constant state of concern was to be using oxygen. You have to make yourself not care, he would say when people asked how he did it. Not caring was why it was so easy to make these shots in practice when it didn’t matter and so easy to miss them in games when it did.”   –From Racing in the Rain, by John L. Parker, a prequel to Once a Runner

One race season leaves indelible footprints on the next. 2014 was the first time I raced two 100-milers in a single season—Tahoe Rim Trail in mid-July and Pine to Palm in mid-September. All things considered, I felt there wasn’t quite enough time—for me—to both absorb TRT and properly prepare for P2P. So the way 2015 panned out, having San Diego 100 in early June and Run Rabbit Run 100 in mid-Sept really seemed to open up some breathing room and do things right. RRR being my seventh 100, I feel this one was truly a synthesis of experience, where I was able to employ so much of what I’ve learned in my time in the sport to produce the result I knew I was capable of in a so-called high-stakes race. The ups—but particularly the downs—I’ve experienced in the last 18 months really paved the way for a magical race in Colorado. I’ve always liked doing September races. There’s just somethin’ about ’em…


Crunch-time! Hammering out last-minute details before depositing the drop-bags the day before the race. Invaluable tips from Hoka teammate, Karl “Speedgoat” Meltzer helped sealed the deal.

The build-up to Run Rabbit Run 100 was so busy, there wasn’t much time to get nervous. I knew who was gonna be there and fully embraced the opportunity to race against the best. The competitive factor has become a huge driving force in fueling my training mojo as of late. With the training I had in the bank and my success at the distance, I ensured the self-talk stayed positive, believing that I was just as deserving of a strong result here as anyone else on the entrants list.

I hopped a flight outta Sacramento Wed morning, got into Steamboat in the early afternoon and just focused on resting up and setting my mind to the singular, monumental task of running this mountain-100 to the best of my abilities. With a quick rainy run on Thursday morning, the skies cleared, sleep was in the bank, and soon enough it was high noon on Friday and time to get the party started.

With Pine to Palm 100 course-record holder Becky Kirschenmann at the start. Photo Credit: Kevin Deutsche

With Pine to Palm 100 course-record holder Becky Kirschenmann at the start. Photo Credit: Kevin Deutsche

Holding back, letting people go—with great expectations of reeling them in later—was the name of the game. I figured that since the use of heart-rate has been so successful for me in previous 100s, why try to fix what’s clearly not broken.

With some solid run prep, including 7 weeks of using Hypoxico altitude training gear, I figured I was as prepared as I could be for the specific challenges this race presents. I just had to ensure I operated inside my optimized limits and focus on really nailing the execution.

Photo Credit: Paul Nelson Photography

The start of the 2015 Run Rabbit Run 100 (Hares). Photo Credit: Paul Nelson Photography

Heading up to Mt. Werner in the opening miles, I watched about 20 runners just float away from me. According to “the plan” I wanted to average about 142bpm for the first 30-40mi. I figured that target HR, like it has in the past, would set me up for a strong finish. But by the time I reached the summit, my avgHR was at 147. Well, there ya go. What to do now? Just flow with the course. Knowing that Run Rabbit Run 100mi course-record holder, Jason Schlarb, was in the mix again this year—along with so many other talented runners—I expected the folks on the front would go out pretty hard. I was counting on it!

Even with seven weeks sleeping in an altitude tent and doing 23 intermittent hypoxic sessions on the trainer, I was still surprised to see how the higher elevation—in contrast with my heart-rate at the same intensity back home at sea-level—was clearly pushing my heart to beat faster in order to supply needed oxygen to working muscles. Pacing off heart-rate early ultimately allowed me to optimally pace, conserve energy, process calories, while freeing up my mind to appreciate the exquisite beauty of the Routt National Forest, which was a big draw for me when signing up for this event.

Photo Credit: Paul Nelson Photography

“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to the body and soul.” -John Muir.  Photo Credit: Paul Nelson Photography

The early miles are always glorious smooth sailing. It was in here patience was already starting to pay off, with a few runners came back to me just by running within myself. I filled up a water bottle at Long Lake aid-station, saw a couple runners there, including, Timmy Olson, and took off wondering if I’d be seeing him later.

It was great getting to run with Boise’s Mark Austin, for a good stretch. Mark was one of the few athletes I knew coming into the race. I’d expected to see him at TRT50 in July but he didn’t make the trip down. Last year, at the tough Silver State 50, in the mountains outside Reno, Mark caught me with a mile or two to go and snagged 2nd. This year he won it. Mark knows how to pace and always closes like a champ. Yet another guy to worry about here at Run Rabbit…

Photo Credit: Paul Nelson Film & Photography

Photo Credit: Paul Nelson Film & Photography

On the way down to Fish Creek Falls I was happy to dice it up with Michelle Yates, who was looking strong over this technical section which leads us out to the road back into town and then to Olympian Hall at mile 21. Once I hit the road, I felt the force flowing from the four tempo sessions I did on soft surface back home in prep for this event (I mean I signed up as a hare after all, gotta run quick when ya can!). Just lean into it and let those legs do the job they’re well conditioned to do…

Photo Credit: Kevin Deutsche

In the light of day. Photo Credit: Kevin Deutsche

At Olympian, I picked up my first of nine 300cal bottles of VitargoS2. After all these years I’m finally content with how I use hydration bottles in ultras. Two Amphipod bottles, a yellow one for Vitargo, and a clear one for water (and chicken broth late in 100s) really works well for me. This was the first race I’ve used a Flipbelt, and it helped secure the bottles in my waistband, even when full. The low temps made the distance a lot more enjoyable and to drink relatively cold Vitargo all day was definitely a treat. This was by far the coolest 100 I’ve run and it was great to have steady energy all day with no nausea or vomiting!! Can I get another exclamation point?    !!!

On the long descent down to Cow Creek I was excited to catch up with Nick Clark, who looked like he took a few nasty spills (I’d have one late in the race as well). So gradual, is this process of catching up to competitors in a 100. I’d started to catch folks in the tortoise division some time back so it was always so awesome to see other hares. Nick and I settled into a good downhill rhythm, chatted a bit about our displeasure with the tricky descent, and made our way into the Cow Creek aid, where I grabbed a Tikka RXP headlamp, with a spare battery. In the event something was off, I didn’t want to be without a headlamp so I’d stashed one in my mile 30 drop-bag as well as mile 42.

Photo Credit: Run Rabbit Run 100

Delicious single-track. Photo Credit: Run Rabbit Run 100

Talking with the occasional pack of tortoises, it was slow going back up to the water-only aid-station at mile 38, which I’d heard rumored may be dry since mountain-bikers like to help themselves to the runners’ refreshments. As so it was—bone dry. I’m glad I made the last-minute decision to definitely use two bottles. I knew it wasn’t that far back to Olympian Hall, so I rationed a bit but with the cool temps, hydration wasn’t the critical issue it is when the mercury’s through the roof. Just hang tough and ride the line…

Arriving at Olympian Hall in good spirits. Mile 42. Photo Credit: Kevin Deutsche

Arriving at Olympian Hall in good spirits. Mile 42. Photo Credit: Kevin Deutsche


Average heart-rate coming into Olympian at mile 42 was about 144 or 145bpm. That was a bit higher than I’d expected, or wanted, but considering the temps, great fitness, perceived exertion, and solid fueling, I felt the risk was worth it. Besides, my ace-in-the-hole was having a fully-absorbed San Diego 100 in my legs from June. This day, I felt bulletproof. I swapped out my short-sleeve race jersey for a base layer and long-sleeve jersey here and picked up my second Tikka RXP headlamp and another spare battery. I was fully charged to run through the night. Bring it on! >>>

Photo Credit: Kevin Deutsche

Let’s Go HOKA!! Photo Credit: Kevin Deutsche

And now the sun was setting, which was a foreign place for me to be and not have the race be even half over—strange sensation indeed. We started at noon, versus 5 or 6am like I’m used to, so I had to do some on-the-fly reprogramming of my head so I wouldn’t push too hard during sunset, as has been the norm in other 100s when I’m around 80mi in by sundown. I’d heard I was running in 4th and it wasn’t even mile 50 yet, so I just kept yelling back to enthusiastic spectators, “Hey thanks! And there’s still so much racing left!” I was having a blast, clicking off some street miles back up to the rugged Fish Creek Falls section.

vitargoSlog. Slog. Slog. The trail goes up to Fish Creek Falls aid while the temps go down. By the time I got back to Long Lake it was a gettin’ chilly. I grabbed a fresh bottle of Vitargo, a beanie, some gloves, and stuffed some hand-warmers in them to help keep my hands warm and functioning. Glad I remembered those bad boys. I found them at the bottom of a drawer before leaving home. They’d been left over from some cold winter when I was doing a lot of cycling. Nice thing to have them for the night-running here.

Up at Summit Lake (mi58) I heard my wife’s voice in my ear: “The time you spend putting on warm clothes you’ll gain back, and more!, since you’ll keep yourself warm and comfortable.” There’s always some unknown variable that she’ll focus on intently, then go to work on my head to ensure I take the issue seriously and proactively address it. I’m grateful.

In the days leading up to the race, Amanda got in touch with an old friend she danced with as a kid. Her husband works for Smartwool, which is based out of Steamboat Springs, and this guy’s friend has run the 100 here before. Amanda was on my case to call this guy—Alex. So I gave Alex a ring the day before and much to Amanda’s delight—and my own—he gave me a ton of great information that really helped me dial in my drop bags, and get a better sense of how, when, and where the temps would affect me over the race. It was then great catching up with Alex, pacers, and other tortoises on some climb out there in the night. Hoppin’ along the bunny trail exchanging cheers of encouragement with the tortoises is a very cool aspect to this event. Amanda also ensured I got in touch with Speedgoat, Karl Meltzer, before the race to get more insights on race-day strategy. No surprise, his wise words aided my race strategy.

Summit Lake to Dry Lake. After subjecting some poor guy at Summit aid to help me don a pair of especially tight tights, I threw on a couple more layers, left the bustling warmth of the aid-station, and started one long-ass descent down to Dry Lake en route to the turn-around at Spring Creek Ponds. Shortly after departing Summit, I look back and spy a head-lamp a couple 100 yards back. Then it was 100. Then 50. And then Nick Clark went by me.

As Speedgoat had suggested, I needed to be patient in this section because I really wanted strong legs for the challenging duration of climb out of mile 70 and ultimately for the final third of the race (when moving well matters most). Now I had just been passed by Clarky, which not only put me back a position but knocked me back to second Master (over 40). I’d gotten a good feel for Nick’s pace coming down to Cow Creek earlier and it was still inside my comfort zone, although now there was a bit more pep in his step. And, of course, I wasn’t forgetting who this guy was. Freakin’ Nick Clark. They don’t make ’em any tougher. So h*ll yeah, I thought to myself, what an honor to run with this guy. I’m stayin’ on this train. Honestly though, I’d written him off after Cow Creek, since he’d fallen a few times and seemed too quiet, maybe frustrated—understandably—so I was surprised and inspired to see him back killin’ it down to Dry Lake. And it was just too cool to pass up the opportunity to work together.

Faster together. We pulled into Dry Lake and the folks were just awesome. I was flying high, in good spirits, crackin’ jokes with volunteers and as we grabbed what we needed before gettin’ outta Dodge and getting back to the task at hand. Nick was in full on race mode. The night running was goin’ good. Every tortoise we’d catch, they’d know Clarky. No one had a clue who the h*ll I was. I wasn’t in California that was for sure. Eventually, we made our way up to a dark, slim figure walking on the right side of the road, 20 year-old, Jared Hazen, 3rd place overall at both Lake Sonoma 50 and Western States this year. He boldly ran with Jason Schlarb for some 65mi before the wheels came off. No shame there. I have former students older than this kid. Young, talented, and fearless.

Now running in 2/3, Clarky—5th here last year—and I kept up a good clip for a few more miles before we saw Jason Schlarb running back up. We exchanged some encouraging words and hightailed it as best we could down to the aid-station at Spring Creek Ponds. Upon arriving, I finally got a laugh out of Nick when I said, “Man, it sounds like a cowbell orchestra here!” All the energy at the aid-stations was so great.

Since Summit, Nick and I had ample opportunity to get a good sense of how strong/confident the other was feeling. Mile 70: this was the point in the race I’d been waiting for all day! I had no reason to doubt Nick would be strong for hours to come and suspected he was at least as decent on the ups as he was the downs. As we pulled the u-turn down into the aid, I zoomed to my drop-bag, snagged a fresh bottle and moved like h*ll back outta there and started moving quickly back up the climb. It was time to cash in on the 90,000′ of elevation gain I had in the training bank since August 1st! I wanted that Masters win so I needed to get out of Nick’s sight for a while or at least get some damage control goin’ on this climb so that once we got back to Summit Lake at 82, I wouldn’t be too far behind him. That, of course, along with the other obvious fact…. There was a growing presence behind, now in front, closing at a relative speed of sub-6min/mi pace. I hit my lap button and said a little prayer…

Challenger ATR -- Greatest. Shoe. Ever.

Hoka One One Challenger ATR — Greatest. Shoe. Ever. I had a fresh, fly pair locked-n-loaded for Run Rabbit, with just 20 little miles on ’em just to ensure they were perfect.

Now not-so-firmly in 2nd place, with 1st way off in the distance, there was 50k left to go and anything could happen. It was time to move with increasing purpose while being steady, getting in calories, and keeping my mental game crazy positive. Eight minutes and 30sec later, the next hare I spied coming down was Germany’s Marco Sturm. We’d diced it up a bit earlier in the race and I was impressed with his smooth, strong running over the technical stuff. [Marco got off course after Dry Lake and added about an hour to his time.] I rounded the 8:30 to 10min, doubled it, and gave myself a not too generous 20min lead on him. Not a lot. There would be no more Hollywood breaks at toasty aid-stations from here on out. With Nick right there, Marco some 20min back, I kept up my fast-hiking and waited with much anticipation to see who who’s headlamp would blind me next—Jacob Puzey? Tim Olson? One of the Colorado boys? Josh Arthur was 2nd here last year; he’s gotta be makin’ his move. Then there’s Boulder’s Andrew Skurka. And then there’s the leading ladies… Almost a year to the day, Becky Kirschenmann, was running me down at Pine to Palm 100 to place 2nd overall, nailing the 5th best ultra performance of the year from a female. She again has her TransRockies experience in her legs. And I gotta be on the lookout for Yates and Kimball…

Somewhere out there in the night. Photo Credit: Ultra Sports Live

This is the moment we train for. What I dream of as an ultrarunner. And the memories created here I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. The choice to answer the call, have the extra gear be there, and motor to that finish line is exciting. What an amazing space to be: alive and thriving, so raw, and so rare a moment in this modern world of conveniences. It’s after midnight, and I’m on some mountain top in Colorado, some 20mi to the finish line of a 100mi trail race. This is living…

Six hundreds paved the way to effectively deal with the otherwise overwhelming weight of distance and time. Don’t think just run. Smile. Laugh. Encourage. Keep the head positive. Above all else, maintain momentum in the moment. Second place at Run Rabbit Run is a pretty cool place to be. Don’t blow it.

Finally to Summit Lake, back up above 10,000′. This section from mile 82 to 97 was the reason I rented Hypoxico equipment in the first place. Now it was time to see if the 45+ nights in the tent and 14+hrs sucking rubber on the trainer was worth the investment.

I’m up high. I got competitors in front and behind, I’ve got over 80mi in my legs, and I’m puddle-jumping/weaving like a madman shifting focus from trying to catch 1st to dwelling on how far behind is 2nd back to “not caring” and just trying to recapture my now elusive flow-state I found myself in for so much of the earlier miles.

I take a hard fall. Back up. My light goes out. On goes the spare. Energy’s depleted. Chug more Vitargo. The hot chicken broth from the last aid is burning my right ass cheek. Take it out and carry it for a while. It’s so warm in my hands. My headlamp lights up my breath in front of my face. Hallucinations imminent. Was that a mudpuppy I just saw in that puddle? Indulge and have another look. No, it’s a slimy log. Are you sure? Snap out of it. When’s the sun gonna come up? Only 0.3mi to next aid at Long Lake…

In-n-out of Long Lake I zip down the trail and remember the serene water from the daylight now to my left with trees opposite reaching to a blue, cloudless sky. Signage ahead: “To aid-station 3: Fish Creek Falls”. Think. Does this take me to Werner? Yes. I don’t know. F*ck. 0.5 back to Long Lake to ask. I’ll go down this trail and see. Maybe not. D*mmit. It has to go to Werner. You can draw the map by heart. Think. Is it the trail or not? Sh*t, I can’t think very well right now. They’re catching you. Alright, I’m running back, f*ck it. It is what it is. I’ll just have to outrun anybody that catches me because of this little setback. Better safe than sorry. Get your effort down. Relax…

Back at Long Lake I get the attention of a knowledgeable volunteer and I inquire about the signage and whether it leads to Werner and the finish. He graciously runs with me back to where I was. We take the turn and run down a short connector to a fork in the trail, one leading right to Fish Creek Falls and the other going left to Mt. Werner (the final aid-station before the finish).

D*mn, that sucked. No one caught you there, you were lucky. No harm no foul. You weren’t lost, you were clarifying. And more importantly you didn’t just flush $6000 down the toilet. Smart. Now run your ass off to the finish! Full effort is full victory. Thanks Einstein.

Daylight breaks. Headlamp off. But the headlamp really illuminates those reflective course ribbons. Headlamp on. What if someone’s a couple 100yds back? They’re gonna see your lamp and catch you. Headlamp off. Catch a toe on a rock. Headlamp on. It’s light enough now. Headlamp off. Step in a huge mud puddle and leave shoe stuck in it. Really? Headlamp on. Find shoe in mud and slip back on foot. Oooo, that feels good. Love these shoes. Hmm, Injinji socks are cool too; like little gloves for your feet. Focus! Put hand over lamp and look over shoulder. Someone’s back there. Wait, doesn’t look like it. How’s that Kinks’ song go again?…

(yea, it goes like this, here it goes) paranoia, they destroy ya
(here’s to paranoia) paranoia, they destroy ya
(hey hey, here it goes) paranoia, they destroy ya
(and it goes like this)

Mt Werner – Mile 97. It’s all downhill to the finish. I’m a great downhiller. No chicken broth. Ergh. Fill ‘er up with Coke. Thank-you! Sorry, I’m cranky!!

I suck going downhill. Holy God this is awful. What kind of long-term damage am I doing to my legs right now? Switchback. Holy h*ll, I think I see my hotel room window. Look over shoulder to see if there’s a runner. Pounding. What meniscus? Each step must be taking months off my life. Pain is temporary. Pride is forever. How many more years before hip replacement surgery? Sun’s up and it’s a glorious Colorado morning. Savor this… beauty. This sucks. Switchback. See mountain-bikers. Ask if they see anyone behind me. “No.” “Thanks.”

Guy goes by in a Hoka kit. Hmm, nice jersey friend. “Hey, good job.” Other runners coming up the maintenance road. Wow, must be coming up to watch us finish. Hmm, more runners. You idiot, they’re running the 50mi. They started at 6am. I knew that. Cheers. More cheers. Hey, long night. Thumbs up, thanks. Hey, cool. More runners. Look over shoulder to see if Clarky’s coming. Smile. Wave of euphoria hits. Another. Start cheering for the 50milers. High-5s. See my buddy Kevin Deutsche from home. Another high-5. Wow, that was great seeing all those runners. Mile to go to the finish. Let’s try to stay on course. Atta boy. Get this sh*t done.

Photo Credit: Paul Nelson Film & Photography

Photo Credit: Paul Nelson Film & Photography

Brought it home for 2nd place overall and first place Master in a time of 19 hours and 13min. This stands as the 9th fastest time in the four-year history of the event. The co-RD said that Run Rabbit’s typically not nice to Californians. I can see why with the altitude and the low temps. I was more than happy to prove him wrong. Three guys from Cali, including myself, did manage to find the finish line. Upon crossing the finish line, we were immediately lookin’ for a heater and our flip-flops!

And as it panned out, Schlarb was over an hour ahead of me by the finish and I was exactly an a hour in front of 3rd. So funny how things go out there. You just never know what’s going to happen in a 100mi footrace at elevation, that starts at noon, has 20,000′ of gain and loss over technical terrain. Naturally, I’m wondering how I could’ve gotten an hour back to bridge the gap to 1st. I’ve come up with about 30min so far, including that little navigation snafu back at mile 90. Schlarb’s got a lock on this race, to be sure, having set the course-record, of 17:15 in 2013 and having been at the event, in some capacity the last four years. Rob Krar was here last year and won in a time of 17:40. Jason’s a professional mountain runner living in Durango, CO who’s spent some good time this year training up high in the mountains. Tough guy to beat!

All things considered, I executed pretty well. Naturally I’ll get sh*t for my course confusion and someone always chimes in that if I hadn’t worn the HRM I could’ve won, but I’m betting Denver dollars to Dunkin’ Donuts that I would’ve ended up on the long list of DNFs had I not worn HR in those early miles. A DNF is never an option, especially in an A-Pri event like this. Too much time, energy, sacrifice, and benjamins went into it to throw caution to the wind early and run wild. I took calculated risks and followed some of Speedgoat’s key rules for running 100s, namely, do your thing out there to stay within yourself, manage your issues effectively, so you can be there in the final 25% of the race. Eastern religion tells us that the middle road is often best. I like to apply that mentality to 100mi racing. It’s gotta be a balance of brains and balls out there. Doesn’t it?

In the money! Not a bad yield for an old school teacher with a mortgage.

In the money! Not a bad yield for an old school teacher with a mortgage. Photo Credit: Amanda Misiak

You know another golden nugget of wisdom from the Speedgoat? Here it is: “You’re always faster the second time you do the same 100.” Thinking back to my four Tahoe Rim Trail 100 times… 22:44, 19:57, 18:03, 17:38. I believe in that idea, wholeheartedly. Afterall, Karl Meltzer did go 18:32 here at Run Rabbit in 2013 at 45 years of age… 😀

Run Rabbit Run 100 – Strava Activity – I finished with a 3% battery charge!!

Complete Results from Hallucination Sports

1st place, Vitargo athlete, Jason Schlarb’s interview

1st place, Hoka One One athlete, Emma Roca, interview

3rd place, Andrew Skurka’s interview. Listen to him talk about heart-rate!

Optimal Pacing for an Ultra-marathon | Q&A with Bob Shebest

Parting Shot: Sonoma's Suzanna Bon, 51, running Tahoe 200, a week earlier. First female and course-record in 68hrs. 4th overall finisher. Three over-nights. Two 20min naps total. My muse for RRR100.

Parting Shot: Sonoma’s Suzanna Bon, 51, running Tahoe 200, a week earlier. First female and course-record in 68hrs. 4th overall finisher. Three over-nights. Two 20min naps total. My muse for RRR100.

Faster than Twitter, thanks to my beautiful, loving, and highly supportive wife Amanda for her thankless job [even from afar] as “First Responder.”  |  Thank you to Julbo Eyewear for the beautiful, functional, and comfortable sunglasses. It’s GREAT to be working with you!  |  Thank you to Hoka One One for your continued support and producing the best shoes out there—#LetsGoHoka!  |  Thanks to Inside Trail Racing for offering so many fantastic races in great places.  |  Thanks to Vitargo for the steady energy and SIMPLIFYING my nutrition.  |  Thank you Healdsburg Running Company for all the wonderful support. HRC rocks! | Victory Sportdesign produces the best drop-bags in the biz! | A final BIG thanks to Dylan Bowman at Hypoxico for the support with my first experience using the gear. It was fun throwing this experience into the training mix!

Summer 2015 – In the Mix


2015 Western States 100, mile 10, Lyon Ridge, 6am. Tahoe Mountain Milers aid-station!! Photo Credit: George Ruiz

2015 continues to gain steam as the pages are torn from the calendar. Summer’s kept me pretty busy with a 100 miler in San Diego as soon as the school year finished up. Then it was off to Tahoe for a vacation/Western States double-header. Soon as we got back it was time to prep our new house while packing up the old one. Then a little 50-miler back in Tahoe in July before getting into August and a return to 100-mile training and the start of a new school year. Like The Cars sang about summer, “It’s like a merry-go round.”

Since I’ve yet to actually run the Western States 100, the next best thing was to volunteer for it, and maybe get some good mojo going in my direction. Volunteering with Tahoe Mountain Milers (TMM) running club seemed like the best aid-station for me to work with since these folks are the backbone of the Tahoe Rim Trail Endurance Runs, events that continue to be near-n-dear to my heart.

The TMM generator fired up at 5am at our Lyon Ridge aid-station at mile 10 of the Western States 100mi course. The evening prior, a handful of us got to run the 5mi from Lyon Ridge to Red Star Ridge, checking ribbon along the way and soaking in the breathtaking high country. We stayed up pretty late shootin’ the breeze with some brews so the 5am wake-up call was a bit rough, as was sleeping in my poor man’s “altitude tent” at 7000′ in warm temps. Ugh! But when that generator started up, a surge of adrenaline went through me; not because it was time to get up and volunteer but because the gun just went off in Squaw Valley, 10mi to the east of us—the race was underway!!


Front-runners at Lyon Ridge (mi10):  Alex Varner, Seth Swanson, Dylan Bowman, and Rob Krar.

I’d never had the pleasure of being at Western States in any capacity so this year’s been a year of firsts—hitting the training runs in late May, volunteering, and spectating. I definitely got as close to the race as one can without being an official entrant. Typically in June, I’ve been up to my heart-rate monitor in training for TRT100, held in mid-July, so being at States was a big treat for me. In the back of my mind, I always expected my first experience with States would be in the context of athlete rather than side-liner, but that’s how the the cookie crumbled this year. Run Rabbit Run in Sept will be my WS100 for this year. And, of course, I’ll try my hardest to gain entry for the 2016 running.


Snagged this pic of Rob Krar from the Placer High School bleachers after his second Western States win.

Working the Tahoe Mountain Milers’ aid-station was a blast, once again confirming the ultrarunning tribe is the one to which I belong. We had a great time and it was indeed exciting as h*ll to see the best of the best come motoring through our aid-station in the early morn. As the front-runners cruised through, I felt my soul smoothly exit my body and give chase, down-trail, and clear out of sight.

Foresthill, like so many know, is about the 100k point of the race and a great location from which to spectate since you get to see runners on the long stretch of road through the center of town. And d*mn was it hot out. If anything, I got to experience that heat firsthand, and see its effects on runners. Throughout my Western States adventures, I’ve been taking vigorous mental notes, in hopes the learning will come in handy 12 months down the trail.


Catching up with Inside Trail Racing teammate, Luke Garten, at Placer High School. No beer on the field Luke!

After Foresthill, Amanda and I went down to her parent’s place in Loomis and hung out a while. I was pretty wrecked from doing the Montrail 6k Uphill Challenge the day before in Squaw, then running 2hrs the previous evening, staying up late, getting up early, volunteering, and roasting under the afternoon sun in Foresthill. I did, however, feel compelled to get back up to the finish line at Placer High and pay my respects to the top-finishers, as well as hang out with friends. Plus I had to pick up my vacated soul…


Had to stick around to see Hoka teammate, Paul Terranova, seal the deal, and secure his M10. Photo Credit:  Gary Wang

Being at the finish to witness the top men make their way around the Placer High School track to that magical finish line was more powerful than I ever imagined. I soaked up the inspiration and, bonking from my own taxing efforts from the last 36 hours, called it a day and headed on down the road back to Loomis, leading us back to our Tahoe vacation, which had been displaced by the Western States action. My soul reunited with body and mind, the time had come to tear June off the calendar and all mixed emotion that came along with it. It was July and there was things to be done. Set the stage…

I asked Amanda to not spend a ton of $$$ on 6/26 WS2016 raffle tickets while we were bumpin' around Squaw Valley the day before the race. So she bought 125 (up 25 tickets from 2015). And not a winner in the mix. #nausea

I asked Amanda to not spend a ton of $$$ on 6/26 WS2016 raffle tickets while we were bumpin’ around Squaw Valley the day before the race. So she bought 125 (up 25 tickets from 2015). And not a winner in the mix. #nausea


Little Miss Raffle Ticket. Our Post-Western States festivities. Vacation time at this sweet cabin in Lake Tahoe. The R&R did us good.

Having run San Diego 100 in early June, I was still somewhat on the mend by the time States weekend came rolling around. Not my favorite place to be—in limbo land after a 100; and not really dedicated to any real structured training for fear of injury and/or burnout. I wanted to try and truly absorb SD100, while still having enough in the bank to have a decent Tahoe Rim Trail 50mi event in mid-July, before returning to true structured training in August. The plan has worked out pretty d*mn well, as plans go.


Met up with the newlyweds, Evan and Hayley Schmidtke, at Tahoe Mountain Brewing Company. Evan is running Pine to Palm 100 on 9/12. We were staying close by and they were on their honeymoon so it was fun to hook up for some brews quick!

Amanda and I spent some more time relaxing, and binge watching a lot of HGTV shows like “Love It or List It.” before returning back to Sonoma County and starting the early stages of the moving process. Vacation went by too fast but I was getting fired up for TRT50. Always exciting thinking about that next event on the horizon…


The final steps of the Tahoe Rim Trail 50. Photo Credit:  Scotty Mills

With San Diego 100 in early June and Run Rabbit Run in mid-September, I found myself nursing a serious case of FOMO around mid-May, regarding the Tahoe Rim Trail (TRT) runs in mid-July—a seemingly great time to squeeze in a hard 50-miler. From a training standpoint, I just wanted to use TRT 50mi as a means to an end—maintaining my race/base fitness for the 100mi training coming in August. The 50 gave me the opportunity to see this great event from a lot of different perspectives.

Since I was recovering from San Diego 100, naturally, I couldn’t put in the specific prep for a 50-miler that I would otherwise. I figured I could get away with running this tough 50 on SD100 fitness as well as some scattered quality efforts I’d conducted between SD100 and TRT50.

Having run TRT100 four times, it was certainly a treat to only have to make one loop of this challenging course. I showed up early to the start and saw the 100-milers off in the dark, being somewhat nostalgic for my runs in yesteryear. An hour later we were off in the 50mi and I zoomed up the trails with the two leaders of the 55k. Why not? I’m just out here to have fun, and keep my mental game sharp. I can keep this pace up, right?


Cruising through Tunnel Creek. One of the best and most robust aid-stations in ultrarunning. Photo Credit: Scotty Mills

I’d let the 55k guys lead me up the climbs, but I’d reel them in on the descents. When we got to Tunnel Creek around mi12, I grabbed a fresh bottle of VitargoS2 and dropped down into the Red House loop, checking my pace only to realize I’d set my Suunto to current pace rather than average pace. I still felt good so just kept on turning over. This resulted in a Strava CR for the Red House section, I was to discover when I uploaded my race a few days later. I more than paid the price for this early speed, later on, starting up the ski slope at Diamond Peak at mile 30. The wheels—they were a comin’ off. It was a grind all back down to the finish at Spooner. Upon finishing, RD George Ruiz pointed out that my 8:09 finish time was only a minute faster than my 50mi split in the 100 from the year before. I’d been loosely shooting to best the 50mi course-record of 7:52 set by Thomas Reiss in 2008. I’d even talked with Thomas about his TRT50 CR at Foresthill during Western States about how fast he thought I should be able to run it. We both agreed 7:30 was possible. That was if I was in top form, which I wasn’t.

In hindsight, I see only contrast between an B-priority race compared to an A-Pri event. We can’t always be sharpened to that A-pri point. The edge dulled as I cut through San Diego 100 and the subsequent recovery. I raced TRT50 like I’d raced any 50mi in the last 12 months. I felt, to some degree, that San Diego was still with me, and the last 20mi sucked bad. In the end I imagined the suffering giving me an edge in the final 20mi of my next 100 in September. And to some degree, it will. And, if things pan out in 2016, perhaps I’ll take another crack at that TRT50 CR. I think I can get it if I play my cards well over June, July, and into Angeles Crest in August. And, as I write this, perhaps that wouldn’t be such a wise idea…

Shane James, snagging his sub-30 buckle at Tahoe Rim Trail 100 in July.

Shane James, snagging his sub-30 buckle at Tahoe Rim Trail 100 in July.

When Tahoe Rim Trail Endurance Runs volunteer coordinator, Kati Bell, ask me if I’d pace her beau, Shane, in the 100, I thought she was off her rocker. I told her it wasn’t that I didn’t want to but that I couldn’t guarantee I’d be in any shape to pace after racing the 50. She basically said I’d be fine and it would be fun. Since I’d run the 100 a bunch of times, wanted to put Shane in the best of hands. I got it. So, finishing up the 50 around 2pm, I licked my wounds and found my way back up to Diamond Peak at mile 80, to hang out, cheer the 100mi runners through this tough part of the race, and wait for Shane to come through.

Back in June, Shane was one of the runners who I ran the 10mi with from Lyon to Red Star Ridge and back when we were both volunteering over States weekend, so we’d gotten to know each other a bit. I’ve never met an Aussie I didn’t like!

On Diamond Peak, I was in store for more inspiration in the form of runners starting their ascent up this notorious ski slope. At various points during the evening, I started up the big hill with a handful of friends—and strangers—until the caffeine wore off and I had to take a nap in the back of my Subaru from about 1-3am. Upon rising, the lodge at Diamond Peak was all hustle-n-bustle. I connected with so many folks I normally only get to interact with on social media, so super fun just hanging out with the tribe here at what’s been a very magical spot for me in my year’s running TRT100, adding to the many great memories.

Shane came in with his pacer in good spirits, eager to start the climb. I gave my car to his former pacer to drive back down to the finish at Spooner. She’d done a great job pacing him over the last 30mi. I chased Shane up Diamond Peak, catching him about 3/4 of the way up. My legs were pretty trashed from the 50, but it was cool sharing the mountain with folks in the 100 who were slaying their demons and getting the job done.

By the time we reached Bullwheel, back on top of the ridge line, the sun was coming up. We were moving well and it was a treat getting to run on the beautiful Tahoe Rim Trail in the early morning. I ran into John Trent and Lon Monroe back at Tunnel, ordered a coffee-to-go at Hobart, and took in the breathtaking views on Snow Valley Peak. We encouraged runners as we passed them, and a few hung with us for quite long whiles as we maintained good momentum to the finish. Ultimately, I’m grateful it’s impossible to say no to Kati Bell, psyched about my first pacing experience, and that Shane’s one tough Aussie, who achieved his goal of running under 30hrs—he’s got the belt buckle to prove it.

k Back at home, we sealed the deal on our first home. Although a ton of work, it couldn’t have come at a better time, me being out of school and in between TRT50 and the training for Run Rabbit Run. So, we cranked out the prep and move into our new place and are jazzed with how things continue to come together. It’s only about a mile from where we were living and it’s nice to finally own a home in our beloved Sonoma County. Just 10 years back, after picking SoCo off the US map as the place I’d like to call home, I’d arrived broke as h*ll after graduate school, and ended up renting a room from a hypnotherapist. I’d go four and a half years without a car while getting my teaching career of the ground. Endurance events have been the thread through my life since leaving the Navy in 1998. Gotta keep it goin’! >>>

Centrally located, our new place gives me three local parks to train on trail throughout the work-week, while offering great long run locations 25mi to the north and south, like Lake Sonoma and Sugar Loaf Ridge State Park respectively. And the house is just a 15min walk to my classroom, but not on top of my school like our last place—too close for comfort! Those school bells and alarms going off at all times of the night were making us crazy.

With Healdsburg Running Company's James McCanne, after his Boston Marathon Qualifier at last weekend's Santa Rosa Marathon. Photo Credit: Ruby Barzaga

With Healdsburg Running Company’s James McCanne, after his Boston Marathon Qualifier at last weekend’s Santa Rosa Marathon. Photo Credit: Ruby Barzaga

Coaching continues to keep me on my toes. I continue to enjoy working with highly motivated adults on pursuing their racing dreams. Having coaching in the mix keeps me plugged in to effective training/racing strategies and has definitely helped me evolve in a number of ways. I really enjoy the relationships I have with the athletes I have the pleasure of coaching. It’s a natural extension of my passion for education, and in this context, my students are all very motivated to learn—a teacher’s dream!


Ready or not, here they come!

And just like that, another school year’s begun. 130+ names to learn and new Common Core math curriculum to become familiar with and effectively teach. Life is never boring. About three weeks in, I’m thoroughly enjoying my new batch of 6th graders. After 10 years working with them, I still never tire of working in their company. I’ve always felt that teaching keeps my running fresh while running keeps my teaching fresh. And the daily grind to bring my A-game to my five classes—especially in the midst of 100mi run training—must count for something, in specific regards to the mental fortitude required late in ultras. I have to believe it.


Two-week training block for Run Rabbit Run 100. August 2015. We reap what we sow.

Q_ RRRprofileAnd here it is, September already. Run Rabbit Run 100 just 13 days out, my second 100 miler of 2015. Things are looking good. I’m much happier with how this prep’s gone as compared to my Pine to Palm 100 prep last August, when I was coming off TRT100. Last August, I just couldn’t motivate. TRT100 shelled me. This year, with San Diego at the beginning of June, and July’s TRT50 to maintain an edge, August, even with the positive stressors of buying a house and starting a new school year, went surprisingly well, with only a couple meltdowns here and there, for good measure. I’m pretty happy with putting up 100+ mile weeks with 25,000′ of gain each week while doing some quality cross-training to boot. S_40miler_12

The long hill intervals on Tuesdays may be my least favorite session, but the physical and mental strength derived from a handful of these workouts will pay off in Colorado on Sept. 18th. My mantra for each of my 8-10 seven min intervals is “make this one count.” In the midst of an interval, I’m constantly asking myself, “Does this suck?” If the effort doesn’t suck I’m not pushing hard enough. This is the only session for which I’m using my HRM. I see HR in the high 140s starting off, then in the 150’s for the majority of the workout, then, if I’m feeling strong, I’ve been able to push into the mid-high 160’s. Always a balancing act during these quality sessions to effectively preserve the future and not compromise the quality of the tempo session on Thursday.

Thursday tempo has evolved to flat trail surface at a local park where the entire focus is on tempo-specific speed. This is not a threshold run but rather a Zone 3 effort, whereas the Tues hill session is mostly Zone 4. I think of it as 50k race intensity. That’s what it feels like to me. Obviously it’s a dramatically different stress on the body than is the hill session, and the weekend, Zone 2 long runs for that matter.

Weekends were made for long runs. And depending on the event for which I’m training, I’ll mix up the locations to place me on trail that most characterizes the upcoming event. In this case, I’ve found myself at Sugarloaf Ridge State Park—adjacent to Hood Mountain Regional Park—most Sundays. It’s all ups-n-downs here, so hoping the time spent here will be a my lucky rabbit’s foot in Colorado.

I’m fond of referring to Sunday as my “proper” long run, whereas Saturday, just 48hrs post-tempo, is my “fun” long run, where I like to hit my Warm Springs loop at Lake Sonoma to see where my legs are. On Friday’s after work, I’m usually pretty frazzled, so after a relaxing Friday evening, and sleeping in on Saturday morning, the weekend long runs have been going very very well. I’ve been enjoying ever-new sensations on the trail, while dialing in my 100mi process. Still some finishing touches, but I’m about as ready as I’m going to be.

Hypoxico altitiude equipment. A twist on my 100 race-prep.

A twist on my 100 race-prep. #altitude

Having talked with a buddy who’s done Run Rabbit Run 100 a few times, I took to heart his experience of suffering through the final 20mi of this race, all above 10,000′ and losing places because all he could do was power-hike or walk due to the high elevation. Curious—as both athlete, coach, and science teacher—I figured it’d be a good idea to give Hypoxico altitude equipment a try. About five weeks in now, using both the tent and the mask for intermittent hypoxic training, or IHT sessions, I’m optimistic the equipment’s going to help put me on an even playing field with athletes who live, train, and race at much higher elevation than I do living at sea-level.

While really taking to the IHT sessions on the bike trainer, the tent’s been a whole different story, but only because the summertime temps have made sleep difficult and it’s generally best to have sleep temps between 68-72deg. We’ve rigged up a variety of cooling hacks and overall, I’ve been very consistent with both tent and mask. Now that the run training’s in the bank, I’ll be doubling down on the IHT sessions, to further optimize my acclimatization. At least I won’t be going into mile 80 without having done anything to help me deal with the altitude effects. It’ll suck regardless. But hopefully, the body will be better equipped to deal with the high elevation.

The Run Rabbit Run 100 hare division is shaping up!! Course-record holder, Jason Schlarb is returning this year along with Run Rabbit veterans, Nick Clark, Duncan Callahan, Timmy Olson, and Josh Arthur. Other familiar names include Jacob Puzey and young-gun Jared Hazen, who was just 3rd place overall at Western States in June. The women’s field is equally stout if not more so, with the likes of Michele Yates and Nikki Kimball toeing the line.

This will be the most competitive field I’ve run with for 100mi. I’ve got enough 100mi experience to know how to shoot myself in the foot and have a sh*tty final 50k. I hope to not suffer that result, so I’ve tried to do everything I can, given my busy reality, to ensure I have a strong race, ’cause God knows how many more fast 100s I’ve got left in these 41y/o bones. I’d love to execute as close to perfect as possible while knowing that doing so at a 100-miler you’ve never run, is more than a little unlikely. But, if you listen to your body and run your own d*mn race, you might just find yourself in the mix with 20 to go. And that’s what it’s all about for me—I wanna be in the mix, for just a little while longer…

Parting Shot: Raced TRT50 and then paced a buddy in the 100. Who says we get smarter with age? ;-)

Parting Shot: Raced TRT50 and then paced a buddy in the 100. Who says we get smarter with age?😉

Faster than Twitter, thanks to my beautiful, loving, and highly supportive wife Amanda for her thankless job [even from afar] as “First Responder.”  |  Thank you to Julbo Eyewear for the beautiful, functional, and comfortable sunglasses. It’s GREAT to be working with you!  |  Thank you to Hoka One One for your continued support and producing the best shoes out there—#LetsGoHoka!  |  Thanks to Inside Trail Racing for offering so many fantastic races in great places.  |  Thanks to Vitargo for the steady energy and SIMPLIFYING my nutrition.  |  Thank you Healdsburg Running Company for all the wonderful support. HRC rocks! | Victory Sportdesign produces the best drop-bags in the biz!