Rio Del Lago 100 Mile—A DNF

If you’ve read my previous entry about all my injuries and travails in the past year, you might think it a silly thing to sign up for a 100-miler, and you’d probably be right. But life is short, and sometimes you just have to go for something, even if wiser heads would counsel you otherwise. This attempt was not successful, and not even all that impressive as a first attempt, but has lots of lessons that might be of interest to some.

Prologue
I remember running a series of marathons in the 1980s and hearing about the first running of Western States 100. I was awe-inspired at the difficulty and epic-ness of such a journey and fantasized about someday trying it myself. Life got in the way of such aspirations, but ever since, it’s been in the back of my mind that I wanted to do a 100-miler. I’m now also interested in exercise physiology, and diet and exercise effects on health, and am intrigued by how the body manages energy, so experiencing the highs and lows of energy in ultra events is fascinating to me. So kind of on the spur of the moment, I decided to give Rio del Lago a try.

Now tackling a 100-miler for someone like me is no easy matter. In addition to having a bum and finicky foot, I’m not particularly fast, robust, or tolerant of heat, and my feet get easily blistered (OK, I’m old, frail, slow and whiny, especially if it’s over 70º F). I consulted with Don and Gillian http://www.zombierunner.com/ about strategy and was told to 1) get lots of sleep prior to the race, 2) be comfortable with night running, 3) keep the pace down, walking the hills, and 4) resolve not to give up. Don warned me it would be warm, but I was still glowing from the unseasonable cold front that had just gone through a few days prior. The pace chart indicated that the paces necessary to complete the race are not even that fast—for more than half the race, an 18-minute pace is good enough to make the cutoff times. I felt pretty confident I could manage those factors and that pace and decided to go for it. David agreed to be my crew and pacer if needed, even though his Achilles was not really up to running long distances, but he felt that with the pace I’d be keeping late in the race, it would likely be easy enough that he could pace me without aggravating his injury.

Since I signed up on the last possible day (Thursday) before the race, I didn’t have a lot of time for the reality to sink into my head. As a consequence, Thursday night I barely slept—I dutifully lay there inviting sleep, but my mind had other ideas, namely processing the shock of actually trying to “run” 100 miles (Ok, we all know it’s not all running, but lots of hiking or walking too). This insomnia was unusual and was the first strategic error of many. We drove up on Friday afternoon after frantically trying (and failing) to find our night-running lights, arriving late for the check-in, and then had to go shopping for flashlights. I was such a wreck that my blood pressure and heart rate were abnormally high at the check-in. Of course they were—I was about to do a really challenging and stupid thing, I was terrified! (But at least my valves checked out healthy.) We found several cheap LED flashlights that seemed suitable for the night running portion in a hardware store and proceeded to dinner and finish preparations for the morrow’s race. Dinner was at Denny’s (I had tilapia and mashed potatoes—that and some yogurt with fruit and granola was the extent of my carb loading on Friday). We got my breakfast for the next morning (eggs, sausage, hash-browns and pancakes) as take-out so we would be all set to go.
After dinner, it was time for a shower and foot preparations. I opted for kinesio tape around the balls and heels of each foot and a couple of toes each (but no tincture of benzoin). The middle toe on my left foot seems to blister without fail of late and I was most worried about it, so I taped it and the adjoining one for good measure, and did the same for the right foot. We were in bed by 9:30 and I fell asleep quickly, being already sleep deprived, only to wake up at midnight unable to fall asleep again. Not only could I not sleep, I began to get a nagging headache that I could not ignore. By 4 AM I started in on ibuprofen, and by 5 AM when I was supposed to be eating my hearty breakfast, I was nauseous and unable to eat more than a couple of bites of egg and hashbrowns. This was unpleasant, but not necessarily terrible, since I am used to running fasted or having eaten little. I would have to make do with the Gu in my bottle for fuel (and a few gels) until the aid stations.

A blur of one of the fast runners

The Race
Standing around before the start, I said hello to Stacey and Misty (they looked so cute in their race outfits) and looked around for other people I knew. But conversation would have to wait because in moments we were out the door with our flashlights in the pre-dawn gloom. The first section was nice and cool, and easy with rolling hills on wide trails. I tried to walk the hills, but occasionally ran them anyway since they were shallow and I was way too excited to slow down. It began to warm up as soon as the sun peeked over the other side of Folsom Lake, and I realized then that it was indeed going to be HOT, not just warm. My T-shirt came off and I decided to pick up the pace a little to get as far as possible before being reduced to melting slug pace. This worked for the first few miles, and I ran with a few other runners, trying to navigate the poorly marked section (someone had been removing ribbons). The Twin Rocks section proved difficult—stepping up and over boulders and roots, then back down, never too much elevation change, but tricky footing nonetheless. I ran with Tracy Youngstedt for a while and commented that I knew I was supposed to get through the first third of the race without doing anything stupid (according to Olga), this after nearly doing a face plant from kicking a root. Finally the Twin Rocks section was finished and I finally saw David for the first time at Rattlesnake Bar (mile 11.9). He offered me breakfast, and I took the rest of the eggs and hash-browns in a cup, and attempted to eat them during walking breaks (of course after dropping the cup and spilling the food a couple of times, didn’t manage to eat all that much). On past the power plant and toward Cardiac, all seemed well until the trail began to really heat up in the strengthening sun. At one point I came across a stream and just stared at it incredulous—coolness. I untied by T-shirt, dunked it in the water and draped it across my shoulders—instant relief! At another creek crossing, I refreshed the wetting and so was kept somewhat cool until reaching the aid station at the foot of Cardiac (where ice and Coke was provided). It was now full blown HOT and all I could do was trudge forward toward the flume trail, chewing on bits of ice. The flume provided more shirt wetting and relief, and I managed to jog a bit now and then toward Maidu and then Auburn Dam Overlook. At Maidu (mile 21.2), the aid station volunteer gave me a juicy PB & J sandwich, of which I again only managed to eat half (though it was delicious).

Maidu aid station and the flume trail

I reached Auburn Dam Overlook (mile 22.7) well within the cutoff time (well, 40 minutes to spare), got weighed and was maintaining weight ok, so presumably hydration was ok. David handed me V8 juice in my water bottle, well diluted with ice. I took coke with ice as well, wetted my T shirt again, and proceeded down what I expected to be an easy bit of downhill to No Hands Bridge aid station. Unfortunately, this stretch of trail was not all downhill, not easy, and HOT. There are numerous uphills which appear as innocent little jiggles on the course profile. I was amazed to see both Jean Pommier and Sean Lang already returning from Cool at this stage! They looked so light and fresh trotting up the hill to Auburn Dam Overlook. I set my Garmin to re-charging on this section and so could not see how long it was taking, but it seemed to take forever even though it was net downhill (800 feet).

trotting towards Auburn Dam Overlook

I finally dragged myself into No-Hands Bridge aid station (mile 26.7), barely able to muster a trot on level ground over the bridge in the oppressive heat. One fellow runner sitting at the aid station looked to be suffering from heat exhaustion, as he was trembling and pale and limp. The sympathetic volunteers loaded me up with ice—in my hat, bra and bandana—for the long climb up K2. I got more iced V8 from David and took some grilled cheese sandwich pieces (which I again did not manage to eat). I was prepared for this steep climb and its numerous false summits, and it wasn’t too bad. There was some shade at least and my ice kept me cool enough to keep moving, but slowly. I did pass my first “conquest” at this stage—a man who had been nauseous for the last ten miles, he said. He described himself as an “urban polar bear” and bemoaned the fierce heat radiating up from the trail (if only the clouds from the few days prior had remained), with which I agreed wholeheartedly. I was still moving ok, though mostly just at a walk towards Cool, and passed S Baboo on his return from Cool, all smiling and making it look easy. At this point, my stomach too was beginning to feel funny. There was a suspicious pain and when I pushed on it I realized that my entire belly was distended with liquid—I wasn’t processing fluids anymore! Trouble seemed to be brewing.

unknown runner coming across No Hands Bridge

Finally at Cool (mile 29.8), I switched to ice water only and sucked it down like a fiend. I’ve never experienced thirst like that, and could not get enough water. I also got this idea in my head that I might be getting too much potassium from the V8 juice and was worried about developing a heart arrhythmia (don’t know where this idea came from but it was probably wrong). I tried again to eat some solid foods when David gave me a cup full of “beef bowl” (beef, broth and rice that we brought with us) which I badly needed for fuel. I left this aid station nursing my cup of coke and ice (mostly ice), then drinking ice water. There was very little shade, and at one point I just sat down on the trail in the shade of a tree for a moment. I believed I had plenty of time and just needed to get through the loop without mishap, and hopefully things would be cooling off by the time I had to head back to the hot canyon. There was one other runner that I played leap frog with here. He got ahead of me after the aid station, because he ran while I walked (lazy me), then when I was getting desperate for more water, I ran and passed him again. Finally refilled with ice water at the Knickerbocker Hill aid station (mile 35.3), I ran briefly on the 1.5 mile road section, but just couldn’t bring myself to keep running, even though there was a nice breeze by now and it was plainly cooling off. I practiced a power walk instead and was pleased that it wasn’t too bad.

Refilling with food, ice and water at Cool again (mile 36.9), I left at a leisurely pace crunching on ice, drinking coke and slurping a small cup of beef bowl (only had two hands or I’d have carried more food!), then upon reaching the downhill, trotted along as expeditiously as possible, watching for the trail markers, afraid I would miss the turn like one runner I saw coming the wrong direction down K2. This section was relatively fast and easy, but upon reaching the No-Hands Bridge aid station (mile 40.4) realized that I had run out of buffer time and was going to have to run my tail off back up to Auburn Dam Overlook, 4 miles with an 800 foot climb in a little over an hour! While this section was my least favorite on the way out, it became my favorite on the return trip. Even though it was a long climb, it was broken by brief downhill segments (uphill on the way out), and much of it was of a runnable grade, plus it was cooling off by now. I pulled into Auburn Dam Overlook aid station (mile 44.3) as the volunteer was yelling a three minute warning at me, quickly weighed myself (only 2 pounds down), then had to leave immediately for Maidu. I followed the flume trail feeling good, jogging and passing a couple of other runners, then met David again for another refill on food at Maidu (mile 45.8). This time he added coconut milk with chicken broth to my beef/rice bowl, and the feeling of actual calories going down my throat was amazing. To this point (45 miles) I had eaten a half PB&J sandwich, 3 gels, a few bites of egg leftover from breakfast, 2 bites of grilled cheese, a couple bottles of Gu, 3 bottles of V8 juice, and several small cups of Coke, and I had been on my feet for 13 hours! I guess I was starting to get tired and hungry. David offered to pace me, but I told him I felt surprisingly good and declined his offer (this would turn out to be a mistake). He asked me if I wanted to take a dry T-shirt and I said I was still hot, but at least I didn’t need to wet the T-shirt anymore!

View of American River Canyon

Off along the flume trail again, I turned down the wrong trail (getting behind again) and had to backtrack. It was now becoming dark and the flashlights were necessary, and it was really hard to see the marking ribbons. Going down Cardiac in the dark was also much, much harder than the climb up had been. I couldn’t see far enough ahead on the twisting rooty trail to have any confidence in my footing, so inched down slowly like an old lady (which I guess I am!). There were numerous trail junctions that I hadn’t even noticed on the way up, and each required careful searching for ribbons, which took additional time. At the bottom, all I wanted was to sit and doze for a few minutes as the effects of the sleep deprivation suddenly hit me. But when I got there, the trail sweepers were waiting for me (last again!), and I had to keep moving. I tried to keep the pace up, jogging along occasionally, but the blisters on my feet, which until now had not really been much of a factor, suddenly became noticeable. I was trying to jog along on this overgrown trail, which I could see only poorly with my ghostly LED illumination, when I stumbled on a few rocks and several blisters tore open at once on my right foot. The pain was excruciating, and I suddenly realized for the first time in the whole race that I might not be able to finish, might not want to finish. The pain slowly faded, but now I was afraid of the slightest misstep setting off more blister pain. My jogging became more intermittent. Still, I managed to pass a couple of other runners and tried to keep my pace up, but this section seemed interminable, even though I had been looking forward to it as one of the more runnable sections from before. Finally after passing the power plant again, I encountered David coming in from Rattlesnake bar AS to find me. I had lost track of time, because my Garmin power had run out again and since I neglected to charge it again, it shut off. I didn’t realize it until he told me, but I was too far behind schedule and would not be able to make the cutoff time at Rattlesnake Bar (mile 55) and continue past the AS to finish the race.

Afterwards
I wasn’t too disappointed to have to quit because exhaustion and pain have a way of changing one’s priorities. We left Rattlesnake Bar aid station and returned to Cavitt School for some food (all they had that seemed remotely appetizing was watermelon) and a real bathroom (I was tired of peeing in the bushes). Then David just wanted to get us home. The drive home was uneventful and I slept pretty hard. Upon arriving home, I needed to use the bathroom as soon as I got out of the car, and discovered what exploding diarrhea was all about (just in time to the bathroom)! I don’t know what caused the diarrhea—whether it was a side effect of heat exhaustion and dehydration or a sign that my stomach and intestines just couldn’t absorb fluids as fast as I shoved them in. Perhaps the fiber and minerals in the V8 juice were the problem. A comment from one of the AS volunteers seemed to presage the event, as she pointed out that tomato juice gives her diarrhea. Finally home and cleaned up a bit at 3 AM, I had to eat some real food and opted for a large chicken breast poached in the rest of the coconut milk and chicken broth remaining from our supplies. It was delicious and nourishing and I finally slept, with my burning feet on icepacks.

The next morning, my weight was down a full pound and a half (it was down a pound before eating and drinking more before sleep). The real problem was my blistered foot. Only one foot was in a bad way, though I had taped them both the same. It was hot and inflamed and I finally resorted to just soaking both feet in cool water with a little salt and ice added—for TWO days! The blisters were two layers of skin deep, which is more than I usually experience. The plantar fasciitis as expected was not particularly noticeable. I discovered I had chafing over much of my body, wherever I had neglected to put Vaseline. So I had odd scabs on much of my back from the chafing from the water bottle and clothing. Finally three days after the event, my weight had spiked up two pounds, before the compensatory fluid retention passed. Once my weight declined again, I had lost a full pound of body weight, presumably fat, which stayed off. (For some reason, I’ve continued to lose weight in the aftermath and am now down to 138, a new low since going “low carb.”) However, I don’t recommend running 50 or 100 miles just to lose weight!

Postmortem
I now understand the addictive quality of 100-mile races. The lower key pacing throughout (for us back-of-the-pack-ers at least) was just fun and low stress. I only felt I was close to running hard on one segment (making it back to Auburn Dam Overlook)—the rest was easy going (with heart rate at least 10 bpm below my usual race paces). Instead of a race, it felt like an epic adventure, or a trail party. I always think about Aragorn and company chasing after the Orcs and captured hobbits in ultra events. It always feels like a challenge and an adventure, 100-milers even more so. So even though it was much hotter than I hoped, I had a great time.

Running in the heat is still a huge weakness for me, and even though I’m a lot lighter than I used to be, that problem remains. See the Science of Sport posts for some interesting discussion of the effects of heat on performance. Basically, your brain controls how much muscle gets activated when exercising: it senses the heat accumulation and sets the pace accordingly so that your core temperature doesn’t exceed ~40 C (~102º F). Slender, lightweight people can cool themselves much more efficiently, and accumulate heat more slowly, and so can perform at a higher intensity in the heat than heavier people. I guess I’m still too well insulated to perform well in the heat! It shouldn’t have been a deciding factor in this race, however—if I had managed all the other factors better, I could have made all the cutoffs and finished despite the slower pace. Someone like David with a BMI of 25 still performs much better than me in the heat even though theoretically he should overheat more, but perhaps he has the advantage of so much additional muscle that he only needs to activate a fraction of his muscle fibers to keep a comfortable pace.

I was completely prepared to feel crappy at some point in the event, then to come back to life with the sunrise or coffee or something. I wasn’t prepared at all for how quickly my energy levels could go from “I feel surprisingly good” to “I just wanna take a nap.” Neither was my crew. Advice for crew/pacers out there: don’t listen to your runner when they tell you everything is great. They are in denial and a bad patch is inevitable. So do the thinking for your spaced-out runner and try to foresee what they will need before they fall in a hole.

Even though I only made it to 55 miles, it was much harder on me and especially my feet than any 50 mile race I’ve ever run.* I attribute this to the total “time on the feet” fatigue from the slow pace, the drain of heat on salt and energy stores, and the accumulated damage to the feet (blistering is much worse in the heat), not to mention the sleep debt before the race. It’s also possible that I had not eaten enough calories to keep my energy levels high, since I estimate I’d eaten at most 2230 calories during the whole day (less than half the calories burned). Some of that difficulty was due to extreme thirst during the hot hours of the day, when I craved water, pure cold water, and my stomach was having trouble processing the input as it was.

I am intrigued with the energy requirements of these events. I’m not advising anyone to eat as lightly as I do in ultras, but I wonder why we need all this food. I wonder if it’s not mostly just to trick the body into thinking all is well and to trigger reward systems in the brain (like the study that found that just swishing a sweet drink in your mouth, but not actually drinking it, can improve performance). For myself, I know that when I get hungry while running, which certainly happens, eating some small amount of food fixes the problem, but if I don’t eat, nausea will occur and will not be easy to fix once started. Salty or starchy foods, sodas, protein, even fatty foods such as smoked salmon, cheese or nuts—they all seem to help. But this is more to keep the stomach happy than to provide fueling (though I was once revived by a tamale). Not everyone needs huge amounts of calories to get through ultras, for example, Jean Pommier wrote an account of Skyline 50K where he basically ran on nothing but sports-drink and Vespa (which is supposed to enhance fat burning). But again, fast runners just aren’t out there that long, and perhaps that is an important factor in total energy needs in an event.

In my case, a confluence of factors (getting dark, poor visibility, anti-climax from enduring the hot part of the day, accumulated fatigue and pre-existing sleep debt, blisters) suddenly outweighed all the race enthusiasm and improved conditions that came with the cool of night. It would have been helpful to anticipate these energy level fluctuations. We actually had caffeine pills and energy drinks, but elected to save them for later. Unfortunately, they were needed far sooner than expected. I can also say that night-running in a 100-mile race is not like night-running on familiar trails close to home. The dark makes everything more difficult—finding things that you need (especially if you drop something), keeping track of time, seeing far enough ahead to plan running segments and walking breaks, finding course markers.

I recommend this race to anyone contemplating running a 100-miler. The course is excellent, and the volunteers were amazing—experienced runners themselves, they were helpful and truly wanted runners to succeed. Unlike some races where cutoff times are rigidly enforced, in Rio, they are willing to bend them a little if they think it will help runners succeed. However, they could have improved the race by making sure enough trail markers were present, and that glow lights or reflective/phosphoresecent markers were used on the sections run at night, but if you’re not as slow as me or as slowed down by the heat, this problem could be avoided (the wider trails past Cavitt School would have obviated some of this problem too). On the other hand, if you struggle with heat as I do, perhaps you should wait to run this one on a cloudy day.

Gear
Drymax socks, Montrail Continental Divides, GoLite running shirt and skirt, Kinesiotape, hat, saltstick caps, sunscreen, bandana, ankle braces, Garmin 405, USB battery and charging cable.

What worked:
1. Ice in the hat and clothing cavities really helped in the heat- it offset some of the blast radiating off the sunburnt trails, though my legs and feet were always hot.
2. V8 juice really hit the spot, but perhaps less of it would have been better or I should have waited until later
3. Lubing all moving/touching parts
4. Eating food (most anything works for me) to keep the stomach from getting touchy and queasy. The beef with broth and rice went down well and kept the stomach demons at bay. Liquid calories (Gu) and caffeine (Coke) went down well too (though I don’t advocate for their healthfulness—still fructose intake in the context of exercise and low glycogen reserves is likely to rapidly replenish liver glycogen, so maybe in this limited context, fructose is ok).
5. USB battery successfully charged Garmin 405 on the run, and it continued to take data
6. Except for blisters, I didn’t fall down or get injured (I had sore leg and abdominal muscles a couple days later, but nothing extraordinary). I used about 1 Ibuprofen and 1 saltstick cap per hour, especially after 20 miles.
7. I was successful at not wearing myself out on the initial faster portions of trail or early climbs. I was aiming for an overall 12 minute pace on the “flat and easy” portion up to Cardiac at mile ~20, but this section turned out to be anything but flat and easy and my pace was more like 13–16 min/mile, which was still well within the pace estimated by the pace charts. More walking than running in the heat of the day was good enough to keep to the necessary pace.
8. My crew was excellent, attentive and supportive (Thanks David!).


What didn’t work:
1. My taping job sucked, at least on one foot.
2. My brain—I got serious brain fog once it got dark and the accumulated fatigue and sleep debt hit. I couldn’t seem to think straight or solve problems.
3. Signing up late and going into a panic, getting sleep deprived more than usual.
4. I didn’t leave enough time for any deviation from the plan. You need to keep a bigger buffer of time for shoe changes or brief naps etc. even if it seems you have plenty of time, because it can evaporate quickly on you. I should have pushed harder on the loop at Cool and not just waited until the downhills or the evening to do more running than walking.
5. On paper it may appear to be an “easy” 100-miler, but it was (and is often) too HOT to be easy for the vast majority of people. In my case I managed the heat well enough not to get heat exhaustion, but couldn’t quite muster the energy to move as fast as I wanted to.
6. Inadequate night-time lighting. My 60 lumen LED emitted a ghostly diffuse light that provided very poor contrast and texture, making it difficult to estimate distances and surfaces and slowed me down even further. (I had a second better light but was too spaced to think of using it.)
7. Apparently I had some issues with my intestines not absorbing fluids, though I don’t know whether it was due to fiber in the V8 juice or the heat and dehydration itself impeding intestinal absorption. If I had continued on the trail, it could have become very unpleasant.
8. Going it alone when I was getting tired. I should have accepted the aid of my pacer who could have helped me find the trail and keep to the required pace.
9. Not lubing enough skin surfaces—some nasty abrasions and chafing resulted.

* Well, Firetrails this year beat me up pretty bad too.

The year of running injuriously

Cynthia’s Experience

Ok, silly title, but apt, as you will see. As of late summer of 2009, after running the SF Marathon and wondering why I was so much slower than expected, I intended to increase my mileage and see if I couldn’t improve my running ability. That did not happen as planned obviously, or I would have been happily blogging about my triumphs attempts. For running friends wondering what has happened, here is the sad story of the last year in running.

May 2009 at Quicksilver 50K, I landed badly while jumping across a creek—the embankment was at a steep angle, which I failed to notice until midair. Afterwards, I had swelling and pain in that foot off and on for a couple of months. It never hurt particularly badly and I mostly ignored it, continuing to run on it, even completing Diablo 50K a month later without problem, with my foot at least. Anyone who has done an event at Mt. Diablo knows it will take a lot out of you one way or another. I mentioned this in blog entries in June 2009 and July 2009. I thought I was babying it enough by taking it easy and mostly running uphill, where the foot falls are softer and more controlled. It did feel like there was some structural weakness for a couple of months when I’d try standing on the ball of that foot with my full body weight, but I figured it would pass. Mostly I just congratulated myself on having good recuperative powers, and continued to run as much as I pleased, and never bothered to get any x-ray or medical opinion.

In summer 2009 while training for the SF Marathon, I ran more track workouts and harder road runs, not the varied and softer surfaces of trails. A glimmer of foot pain began, but remained sporadic and mysterious until by August, after the marathon when I got the bright idea to up my mileage, I developed the dreaded plantar fasciitis. I scoured the web for information on treating and training with PF. One of the more useful references I found is from the Sports Medicine Institute, complete with physical therapy recommendations. My symptoms matched those of textbook PF, and I began to treat it as recommended—icing, using arch supports, keeping the fascia stretched, reduced running, using ibuprofen, etc.


When September came around, it was time for Steven’s Creek 50K. This is another charming local race on trails that we often train on, put on by Steve Patt of Steven’s Creek Software, with proceeds to benefit the Audubon Society. In 2008, the first year I ran this event and only my second 50K, I had such a poor time that I was determined to come back and vindicate myself, hurt foot or no. In 2009, the weather was cooperative, cool and even a few sprinkles, and I managed to improve my time by over 2 hours even with the injury! This tells you how terrible I am in the heat. I found myself running slower and scouring the trail ahead for the softest surfaces to run on, but my foot seemed all right afterwards.

So without too much fear, I signed up for a second running of Dick Collins Firetrails 50 Mile. I thought I would be faster since I was fresh from marathon training and significant hillwork and was lighter compared to 2008. Instead, I was slower by 40 minutes (almost a minute per mile slower!). It turned out to be a truly miserable experience, with me fantasizing about using crutches for much of the race, wincing down the long descent to the turnaround and just generally having the motivation sucked out of me by pain. I vowed not to run any other races until it didn’t hurt so much to run.

For the rest of the Fall/early 2010, I was reduced to easy running/rigorous icing, stretching and physical therapy. I could run, but not fast, and not far (nothing new really, but I didn’t enjoy being even slower than usual). There was almost no pain running uphill—this is of course without any kind of energetic bounding, which would likely negate the pain-free aspects. But of course, there is the downhill part to every run, where I would cringe and whimper my way back down. The strange part is how much more it hurt after running than before or during, and more than in the mornings when it is supposed to hurt the most (“first step” pain). On bad days, the arch and entire heel blazed with heat from the resulting inflammation (icing certainly helps with that), and even tingling or buzzing sensations from nerve irritation and entrapment. I also noticed occasional toe numbness and neuroma-like symptoms, but it seemed to be specific to going uphill, and was helped by walking on rocks that would put the pressure on the arch and not the ball of the foot.

During this time, I compared my feet and realized that my injured foot was now noticeably longer than the right (before, the right was larger), and the right calf musculature was better developed. Whatever injury I had sustained caused the foot structure to attempt to adapt and compensate for the weakness. The bone structure in the arch is now noticeably thicker as well, and presumably is stronger. This picture shows the two feet aligned heel to heel (excuse the post-Rio blisters). The plantar fascia can be easily seen when the toes are stretched back, revealing the tautness of the fascia. Unfortunately, the left fascia is still much tauter than the right due to the relative fast growth of the foot. The tautness can be more readily felt than seen, and the right is springier, with more give to it, than the left. Whenever I strain the fascia, such as landing on the toes going downstairs, skipping, running fast, I can feel it yanking on the calcaneus as if it was trying to pull free. In the acute phase, it felt like an ice pick or broken glass in my heel. Now it is merely a dull but persistent pain.

During January, we cut back running in favor of some weight and cross training, but ran the Fremont Fatass 50K anyway. This is a local event organized by Catra Corbett and Mike Palmer, a friendly (mostly) flat run on bike trails between Quarry Lakes and Coyote Hills. My foot wasn’t too bad on the trail part, though the pavement portions were painful. Then we ran the Second Saratoga Fatass 50K in February (where we got lost and only did a marathon) and Adam Blum’s Overgrown Fatass Marathon, where I was feeling better (and won the women’s event—Yea me! I think there were only two of us!). With the rainy winter, the trails were often soft and squishy, and this helped a great deal to soften the impact for my hurt foot.

By March, I was just starting to feel normal again, until I pushed too hard one day. I could feel something in the fascia “ping” and was back to pain and rigorous icing again. It was clear I wasn’t going to race anytime soon. We volunteered at Skyline-to-the-Sea in April, but my foot was killing me just from standing around all day. I went back to track workouts, thinking the soft springy surface would help. I also did running drills, not realizing these would exacerbate the problems. With more PF pain and weird associated pains and numbness, I finally broke down and went to see a podiatrist in an attempt to find out what the heck had happened and whether I had a stress fracture or something serious. Several x-rays and CT scans later, he informed me I had dislocated a bone in my foot nearly a year before! As a consequence, the foot joints had been trying to compensate for the injury by growing larger and stronger, hence the longer left foot. He also said it looked like I was getting some arthritis too. He instructed me to ration my running, run on soft surfaces, use an insole and to take glucosamine/chondroitin sulfate pills. (As an aside, he was also appalled at the looseness of my left ankle ligaments and advised me to run with an ankle brace, which I do- it has saved me from further injuring the ankle at least). So for the next month, I stuck with trails, the softest I could find and ran gently—no more “speed” work!

By May, it was time for Quicksilver 50K again, the scene of the original injury. I was determined to run it again, not sure if it would be the last ultra for a long time. I wanted to look for the offending stream crossing and this time cross it sensibly, but never did find it (I think they put up a bridge). This race was slower than last year by 23 minutes, but my foot didn’t hurt until after 15 miles. The after effects were fine too—less pain if anything. Encouraged, I signed up for the famous and popular Ohlone 50K two weeks later (I got lucky on the wait list), which involved a lot of slow trudging up hills and fast downhills trying to make up time, and I was pleased that my foot wasn’t a limiter, not seriously. We got lucky with a cool spell of weather on this one too. My lack of ability to run those hills was by far the biggest limiter. And again, the after effects were minimal. I was so excited to get through Ohlone without further injury that I went out and injured something else by running too hard (one of the little gemellis or something in the butt—the little bugger still hurts).

David and his son Ethan decided to run the SF Marathon this year. I played “coach,” leading them through a 30 minute time trial to assess training paces, long runs, hills runs, and mile repeats and Yasso 800s on the track. I couldn’t keep up with their pace, but tagged along behind. We did short trail runs at first to keep the impact lighter to help Ethan work up to longer distances without injury, but quickly escalated to 17–25 mile runs (I only did 20 miles that day) when it was clear he was weathering the distance without his previous injuries reappearing. Being injured yet again, I took it pretty slow and used this as a build phase. By marathon day, they were both primed and ready (though as it turns out, David had pushed too hard already and had some limiting injuries), and gave 3:37 and 4:12 performances.

So by August 1st, I was eager for another race, this time Skyline 50K. This race was extremely well organized and fun, with friendly volunteers positioned at trail junctions pointing the right direction frequently during the race, it was not possible to get lost. The course was harder than I expected, even though it is ostensibly completely runnable (just not for me), because some sections are very steep and rugged. I was amazed to read Jean Pommier’s account of running 7 minute miles through the parts that had me picking my way carefully over roots and rocks, averaging 15 minute miles!

Two weeks later marked the August 2010 (instead of September or March) running of the Steven’s Creek 50K. The event was well run this year as well, though our weather was not as considerate and became hot, while last year was unseasonably cool. I met Roger Jensen (“the yo-yo guy”) and Gordy Ansleigh here. Roger planted the seed for running Rio del Lago, saying that he and Barbara Elia would be there. I ended up finishing a little ahead of Roger, and thought Hmmm…

For these races as well, my foot just wasn’t the main limitation—it still hurt sometimes and made me run cautiously and tentatively at times, but after the races seemed better than before, if anything. But by the time the next weekend came around, I had put in 61 miles for the week and everything started to rebel. I had aches at the Achilles insertion into the calcaneus, peroneal brevis (or longus) tendonitis (maybe) in addition to PF (but the buzzing and tingling of nerve entrapment has finally gone for good I think). I blamed running with extra weight for aggravating the ligaments, but I certainly don’t understand what causes it to flare up on occasion still. So, a couple of easy cutback weeks were in order. I watched and pampered the foot during these weeks and then on the last possible day signed up for my first 100 mile race. Stay tuned for this next misadventure!

So the upshot is that over the last year, an impact injury with dislocation resulted in significant remodeling of foot structure, resulting in PF and other aggravations. It’s possible if I had gone to have it checked out right away, all of these problems could have been avoided, although I’ve heard stories about residual effects of injuries in people who were careful to get everything checked out. I now wonder whether PF is generally the result of minor or unnoticed foot remodeling. After all, the fascia is very inflexible, and changes in bone structure in the foot increasing the length of the foot of only a few mm could result in changes in tension in the fascia, possibly in stretching and tearing injuries. I was able to keep running, but not as fast or as far as I wanted. I had to give up my beloved Inov8’s because my feet seemed to hurt more wearing them than my uber-protective Montrail Continental Divides (sadly, no longer available). I also tried La Sportiva Cascadias and Salomon XTs, which are great shoes, but not as easy on my feet. I got into a routine of easy runs with prophylactic ibuprofen, which seemed to help prevent the majority of the inflammation, then I’d have to sit around for several hours icing my foot. It gradually got better so that it no longer hurt after running most of the time, and did not hurt when getting out of bed in the AM, but still requires a lot of maintenance and pampering. I’ve been able to manage mileage of 20 to 50 miles per week throughout the year, but have to be prepared to cut back at signs of aggravation. At various times, the pain has caused me to run with an awkward running gait, twisting of the knee or ankle (trying to avoid direct pressure on the heel), differences in foot falls (midfoot or forefoot on the left while heel strike on the right), all possibly leading to additional injury if not careful. I can really see the difference on potentially fast downhills, where I find myself holding back for fear of re-injury. I am optimistic, but would not be surprised to have to put up with this for another year or more. It’s looking less and less like I will ever run as fast as even a 6:30 (hilly) 50K again, but at least I can still get out there, and I am grateful for that. Luckily for most PF sufferers, their injuries are more minor and will resolve more quickly.

David’s experience

It has been a rough year for both of us in the running area. David strained his popliteus muscle in May 2009 (sprinting on the track in his new VFFs), and shortly thereafter pinched his meniscus, probably as a result of his knee misbehaving due to his first injury (one injury begets another). He ran with a knee brace for months, and as a result of this knee tenderness was not willing to run Steven’s Creek 50K (he volunteered) or Firetrails in 2009, but instead agreed to be my pacer. Sometime in late Fall 2009/early Winter of 2010, David also developed plantar fasciitis, in the same foot as me. We’re not sure why, or if it was related to some adjustments he made due to knee pain he had from the previous injury, or due to excessive strain when adapting to using VFFs. His PF never became as rabid as mine, and he has managed to recover without suffering too much. It didn’t seem to bother him in the Fremont Fatass 50K or the Second Saratoga Fatass 50K, though he was definitely slower at the Overgrown Fatass Marathon because of it (and also something of a real tenderfoot on that rugged trail with his VFFs). So he has spent some of the past year also icing his foot, along with physical therapy exercises too (lots of ankle work and calf raises).

Then while training for the SF Marathon, he injured a psoas muscle and one or two adductors. Though seemingly minor, these became aggravated during the race so that he was unable to run his best pace. Afterwards, we noticed he had a big lump on his Achilles tendon, so he is treating all of these new injuries with caution and easy running. David is convinced that it was speed work that was problematic and led to injuries; he’s never had any problems from the longer, slower distances. I am reminded of one of Gordo Byrn’s posts about how big men (i.e., ≥ 6 ft tall, > 165 lbs) benefit from easier training (“Small women get fast from intensity, big men get fast from volume.”). This certainly seems to be true for David. He seemed indestructible when he first started running with me, but then he never had to strain very hard to keep up with me and was always able to stay within his body’s limits. Avoiding high intensity training doesn’t seem to have prevented him from running faster than me!

Diablo Redux

Getting behind in blogging here… After the pains from Quicksilver had worn off, I noticed that PCTR was holding another event at Diablo on June 6th. Not one to leave well enough alone, I watched the weather forecast, and when it was clear we were in for great running weather that weekend (i.e., unseasonably cool even for the Bay area), I signed up for another round of torture in the Diablo 50K!

This was one event I had to do completely solo because David hurt his knee—he hurt it sprinting on the track of all places. That’s what we get for throwing in a little high intensity training! He was having enough trouble just walking, so asking him to run any race was out of the question, and he wasn’t willing to come along as my chauffeur or crew (I can’t imagine why).

Anyone who’s interested in trail running in the Bay Area knows about Mt. Diablo. The PCTR 25K event makes a single ascent of Diablo, totaling 4,450ft ascent (and descent); the 50K event repeats the loop, totaling 8,900 ft ascent. Having opted for the latter, I can say that 25K was really quite enough!

We started out on a similar course to the Diablo 50-mile , but avoided Mitchell Rock and Eagle Peak, opting instead for Back Creek and Meridian Ridge Rd. and then joining Deer Flat Road. From there to Juniper Campground Aid station was the same—just a long climb up the fireroad (with the exception of one steep downhill where you are tortured by having to regain all that elevation you just lost). I had fun chatting with Dianne Forrest (who I met at Headlands 50K, my inaugural ultra), and with Jo Lynn’s friends Christy and Theresa. The leaders and speediest folks passed us going back down the hill at this point (about 90 minutes in!). Since this race is part of the Sportiva Mountain Cup series, there was money waiting for the winner of the series, and some really fast folks were contending this day! I recognized Chikara Omine (who I had met at Quicksilver) moving well (he would come in 4th overall) and already on his way down!

Arriving at the aid station at Juniper, the folks kindly filled bottles and offered us snacks and sent us on our way. The next section routed us out along the Summit Trail, with some gentle ups and downs and beautiful views of the Bay, Walnut Creek, Oakland (pretty much everything actually), until we encountered the rest of the real climbing. Along this section of beautiful single track, we encountered more fast runners flying back down the trail like gazelles. Definitely tricky on such a narrow trail! I recognized a few more faces, like Caitlin Smith and Mark Tanaka. The last couple of miles got really tough though. You could see the tower through the mist at the summit for a long time before it seemed to even get any closer. We just kept climbing and climbing, getting more and more tired, and then finally came out into the parking area at the summit, with its incongruous cars and bicycles and blissfully ignorant persons looking at us like we were from another planet. I don’t know if the bicyclists were impressed at us for hiking the whole way up the mountain or not, but all I could think about was how they were going to coast effortlessly down the mountain, while I had to kill my quads to get back down, working even harder than on the way up!

The view from the top was breathtaking as usual, even with the wisps of cloud hovering around the summit. After a quick breather and stretch at the top of the tower (and taking a picture of Christy), we turned to begin the long climb down. The tricky footing and steep descent was challenging, but very fun! I’ve been pushing the downhill pace this spring, since recovering from piriformis injuries that I had last year this time, and gaining confidence in my balance, agility and hip muscles. The trail included some climbs just to remind us of how much fun we had on the initial climb up. Finally, arriving back at Juniper aid station, we refueled and prepared for the long fireroad descent. I tried my best to make up time here, and eventually worked up enough speed to slip and slide past a few people. It was great fun running down the fireroad, skating on the loose gravel and using the slide to cushion the descent. I am not a fast runner, but I did my best to get the pace down below 8 min miles and keep it there as long as I could. This was enough to get me ahead of a few people, and I came into the 25K aid station/finish area in about 4 hours.

At this point I was seriously hot because of working hard and running in the sunbaked canyons along Mitchell Fire Road, which were not cooled as effectively by the breeze as the heights. I hung around about 10 minutes cooling off, drinking coke on ice (so good in races I have to admit, though I never drink it when not racing!) and hoping some other 50K runner would come in so we could go out together. After a little while, I realized this was not going to happen and I’d better get moving. So I headed back out, climbing the #%$@ mountain again alone!

This time, the ascent was slower. Toward the top of the first leg of the climb, just before reaching Deer Flat Road, I realized my right calf muscle was aching. With another 1000 ft of climb to go, I had to slow down even more to favor it, making the quads and gluts do the lion’s share of the work. The third time through at Juniper, the aid station volunteer accused me of leaving after cutoff time and didn’t help me on my way at all! Just what I needed—demoralizing comments! I continued on anyway after correcting him and fending for myself, and met a number of other 50K runners on the way down from their second visits to the summit. In contrast, they were all encouraging and enthusiastic, and lifted my spirits.

One more time back the way we came…I was feeling pretty lonely, but the weather was nice, the day was beautiful and there really was no problem except for the now grumbling calf muscle. I made it back through the aid station one last time, and made decent speed back down the fire road and toward the finish. Not so fast this time around, but good considering. I managed to catch up to one runner about a half mile before the finish. He was walking, so I stopped to walk with him and ask how he was doing. He was feeling pretty beat up and demoralized at this point. We chatted a bit and soon I broke into a jog again, and he came along with me. When he stopped to walk again, I stopped to keep him company. This happened a couple of times and then when we were approaching the finish, he took off running fast again! I could have tried to sprint past him, but that seemed absurd (the last two runners sprinting for the finish!), so I came in a few seconds behind him. I was really hoping not to DFL this event, but due to my stopping to check on a fellow runner, I got to DFL anyway!

This raises a running etiquette question: if you happen upon someone in a race who is obviously flagging, should you just blow by them (assuming you are feeling strong at the moment) and let them deal with their problems on their own, be it injury or just being tired? Or should you slow down to check on the runner’s status and offer help and encouragement if needed? And if you are the flagging runner, should you show your appreciation for the other’s concern by speeding up and blowing past them once you get your legs back or see the finish line? Or do you bring it into the finish together, so that neither one gets left behind?

Maybe this is just a girl thing, but I would have thought showing a little bit of concern warranted being shown some tiny amount of appreciation! (He did thank me afterwards, but that did not make me feel better!) This is not the first time this has happened to me either!

The aftermath and lessons learned:

The day never became warm up on the mountain, and the breeze was strong- it was truly a glorious day to revisit Diablo, even though it is a hard mountain in any weather!

For nutrition, I enjoyed coke on ice, a few potato chips, cytomax, a quarter PB&J sandwich and 3 gels. I also supplemented the dearth of protein by eating a piece of ham (a little too salty, but it might be just right on a very hot day). Again, not very much food. I don’t really know that taking in carbs early in the event was helpful. We’d have to measure blood glucose levels and insulin levels to really know what was happening. I can say that after a recent 12 mile run drinking nothing but water, my blood glucose was up at 123 mg/ml—certainly not hypoglycemic! Actually this is in line with what we would expect, since adrenaline causes the liver to release its stored glycogen to pump up the blood glucose levels, and 12 hilly miles isn’t nearly enough to deplete total body glycogen. It’s possible that for me at least, taking in carbs early in an event is counterproductive (promoting insulin release and inhibiting fat burning), or at the very least unnecessary. It doesn’t seem to help maintain my energy levels all that much, since typically after about 4 hours of slogging up and down steep hills, I’m tired anyway. I either need a whole lot more than I’m getting, or something else entirely (perhaps protein instead). In my past days of running marathons, I never supplemented with anything at all, and didn’t feel any need for it. So perhaps the current obsession with gels and carb supplemented drinks is really all about creating a market and not about health and performance. I will just have to keep experimenting to find out what works best, or at least better.

I gave my muscles 3 days to recover before trying to run again. The quads were definitely quite sore from all the ups and especially the downs! I went out after the 3 days of rest and felt better than ever.

The sore calf made its presence known for a few weeks, particularly if I tried to run faster, and complained about how it had barely avoided injury and berated me for my mistreatment. I had to massage it quite a bit and intentionally decrease the kick-off phase of my stride (slow down more) so as to let it to rest a little more for a couple of weeks.

The foot injured at Quicksilver a few weeks before held up ok, though it still hurts occasionally.

Only one blister—on the top of my foot where it was pressing against the laces during the downhill stretches! The thick calluses on the balls of my feet were fine though definitely warm, and one of them peeled completely off (but the skin underneath was also calloused!) so there was no injury. Again, I think Drymax socks really help (I also used vasoline as a lubricant).

I am still lousy on steep uphills. I’m just not a very good powerwalker, and not strong enough to run them either, though my gluts (and later one calf) were screaming that I was working them too hard. I guess Diablo still kicks my butt!

Vibram Five-Fingers Shoes and “Barefoot” Running

I have always been something of a maverick with regard to sports equipment, resisting the latest gear marketing efforts in favor of minimalist and homemade equipment whenever it seemed to make sense. I also look for what actually works for me instead of what the pundits tell me I must have to optimize my performance and protect me from injury.

For example, I’ve been riding a recumbent bicycle for more than 25 years now, one with handlebars under the seat. Before I adopted the recumbent riding posture, I would routinely pinch nerves in my hands holding onto conventional handlebars. For rides of more than a few miles (I did a lot of longer rides of 50 to 100 miles or more in those days, as well as some extended multi-day trips), I would end up with numb hands. Since manual dexterity is important, this was unacceptable, and the recumbent riding posture fixed the problem. I also feel safer on a recumbent bicycle, largely because, if I fall off, I am much less likely to go head first over the handlebars. There is a visibility issue in that I ride lower to the ground, but that is readily fixed with a flag.

I also often find myself choosing footwear that is intended for some other purpose than the one I'm using it for. When I moved to the San Francisco Bay Area and continued to participate in orienteering, I found that even shoes that were allegedly specially made for orienteering did not work very well in the Bay Area hills, where I often found myself contouring along steep hillsides that could be anything from soft mud to loose dirt and rock. I abandoned my special orienteering shoes in favor of some cheap football shoes that had wraparound cleats that provided much surer footing.

My primary sport right now is trail running. There is, of course, huge amounts of hype supported by lots of allegedly “scientific” research that has created an ever-changing array of running shoes with all kinds of “features” based mostly around various allegedly needed forms of support and/or cushioning. “Trail running” or “all terrain” shoes have mostly tended to be shoes with a fair amount of both support and cushioning as well as deep treads for all the apparently obvious reasons. At the same time, serious racers on trails have tended to opt for lighter weight “racing flats,” at least for competition, just as for road and track running; they want to minimize the weight of the shoes. I, too, have found myself migrating toward lighter and lighter shoes with less cushioning. Most people in the business of selling you shoes will insist that it is dangerous to continue running in shoes after the cushioning has started to deteriorate (usually deemed to be a few hundred miles or a few months). I’m the kind of guy who thinks his shoes are just getting broken in at that point! And I never missed the cushioning beyond the occasional minor bruise if I step too hard on a small sharp rock. I’ve done all my recent ultra-marathon running in well-worn New Balance 790s. These are lightweight shoes with minimal support and cushioning, and the cushioning they do have tends to break down after a few hundred miles, well before I’m ready to replace the shoes. I’ve never had any foot problems with them beyond some toenail bruising on long downhill running. (I should note that I grew up wearing arch-support shoes to “correct” my flat feet. I still have very low arches and a tendency to pronate, but I’ve never sprained an ankle or otherwise had problems that I could attribute to the low arches, and I haven’t used arch supports in more than 30 years now.)

I’m also a fan of going barefoot. I rarely wear shoes around the house. I haven’t generally chosen to run barefoot, except on sand, though my feet are tough enough to withstand a few miles of barefoot pavement running. So I was intrigued when I encountered the Vibram Five-Fingers shoes. They were originally developed for water sports, but have been increasingly adopted by advocates of barefoot running. On something of a whim, I decided to try a pair. I’ve had them for a couple of months now, and they have become my primary running shoes!

There have always been a few people out there who have developed tough enough feet to go barefoot in all but the most dangerous conditions. A few have run marathons barefoot. But most of us non-bushmen haven’t got enough callouses to manage, say, a marathon without at least some protection. The five-fingers shoes can provide that protection and give us a chance to get a lot closer to true barefoot running under more ground conditions and run lengths.

Others have written more than I can about why you might want to run barefoot. There are links you can follow from the Vibram website. Check out Barefoot Ted and the Pose running method, for example. (And read Christopher McDougall’s new book, Born to Run, A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen, a surprisingly great read, that has quite a lot to say about running footwear [and Barefoot Ted]!) I’ll just focus on my recent personal experience.

I guess this still represents something of a preliminary report. Shortly after I acquired the shoes, I injured my Popliteus muscle, and have only just gotten back to where I can run my usual 40 to 50 miles per week, so I still haven’t got a lot of miles on my Five-Fingers. In some ways, though, the enforced slow recovery gave me a convenient opportunity to learn how best to take advantage of the Five-Fingers. Some observations:

1. If you’re going to be a “barefoot runner,” you are naturally tempted to forgo socks altogether with your Five-Fingers. I’ve now experimented quite a bit with and without socks. My current preference is to use socks only for hotter temperatures and runs of more than an hour or so. I don’t bother with socks for runs of an hour or less. The primary issue is that I start to develop hot spots after my feet start to sweat significantly. Socks help reduce the chafing and wick away the sweat. I don’t seem to need very much sock; I use very thin Injinji “liner” socks made from bamboo fiber, and I’ve had good luck up to the maximum run of about 16 rough trail miles I’ve tried so far. I did get a blister on the bottom of one heel on a hot hilly 8-mile run early on when I wasn’t wearing socks (and was still running with a heel-strike gait). Of course, if you’re not wearing socks, then the shoes are absorbing the sweat and dirt that normally ends up in the socks. I rinse the dirt and sweat out of the shoes every few days, something that I practically never do with “normal” shoes. Keeping the insole surfaces clean is important to minimize wear on the feet.

2. Five-Fingers shoes have a very smooth sole made of what I assume is a tough urethane material. (Vibram built their business around making tough long-lasting soles for hiking shoes and work boots.) So far, the soles show very little sign of wear, even though I’ve been doing relatively a lot of pavement running. I was concerned about traction, given the complete lack of tread, but I haven’t found it to be much of an issue. They slip a little on the typical summer dust on Bay Area dirt trails, but so do shoes with lots of tread. What you gain with toe grip generally makes up for the loss of tread grip. The shoes work fine in soft mud. Probably the most difficult terrain is tall grass and similar field conditions. The grass tends to get between the toes and get stuck. And, of course, anything spiny like star thistle can be a real problem. You wouldn’t want to run through a field of star thistle, cactus, or blackberries (not that I make a habit of doing so in any footwear…).

3. You do need to pay attention to where you put your feet. The soles spread the pressure points of ground features enough to dampen out the effects of fine and course gravel, but they don’t help all that much for isolated sharp rocks. I was already accustomed to sub-consciously paying attention to foot placement anyway, since I haven’t been using shoes with much cushioning for a long time, so I have yet to actually bruise my foot. If anything, the minimal cushioning really does force you to be more in tune with the surface you are running on. But extended running on rough trail does tend to abuse the feet somewhat more than running in shoes with more cushioning. Part of the adaptation one makes to running in Five Fingers shoes is to develop the foot muscles more to take advantage of the new-found capability to “feel” the ground you’re running on, and you can then adapt to longer running on rougher trails.

4. There is no fundamental requirement that you change your running gait to use Five Fingers shoes. However, the absence of heel cushioning certainly encourages a switch to something more like “Pose” running, where you land first on the ball of your foot rather than the heel. It’s a big enough change for distance running, that I didn’t do it immediately. But having made the transition, I really like what it does for me. It significantly reduced the stress on my injured knee, and it has probably given me a bit more spring
in my step and some resulting speed. Surprisingly, to watch me run, you might not even notice the difference. I already tended to land nearly level-footed, so the change is fairly subtle to a casual observer. I still land nearly level-footed, but tipped slightly the other way. From a muscle training point of view, it was necessary to develop a little more strength in the calf muscles, since they now play more of a role in absorbing the impact of each footfall, but that didn't take very long (for me, at least).

5. So far, my Five-Fingers are showing very few signs of wear and tear, though my total experience is probably still under 200 miles or so. One strap started to fray (possibly due to a manufacturing “defect” where the slot that the strap goes through was a bit too sharp), and I added a small piece of leather to repair the strap and take the wear. I don’t yet know what the ultimate failure mode that will cause me to retire the shoes is likely to be.

6. I haven’t yet worked up to runs of much more than a couple of hours, so I don’t yet know what issues will come up. So far, though, I’m not seeing any likely limitations, and I’m hoping that my chronic struggles with toenail bruising on multi-hour runs will be a thing of the past.

David

Third Time’s the Charm? Quicksilver 50K

Being disgusted and frustrated with missing cutoff times in two consecutive races, I couldn’t possibly take the hint, and instead signed up for another one! (against David’s better judgment). It seemed a shame to let all this hill training go to waste, so I convinced David that I was doing another with or without him, and luckily he decided to come too. This time it was the Quicksilver 50K in Almaden Quicksilver County Park in San Jose. We had some vague thoughts about moving up to the 50 mile after returning to the 50K point, which tacks on an out and back to get the extra miles. Supposedly, you can opt up to the 50 mile but not down from the 50 mile to the 50K. Not wanting to take another chance on missing cutoffs or just having a bad day with the heat, we signed up for the 50K with the possibility of continuing on. Turns out, 50K was quite enough on this sunbaked day, and I was happy enough to stop with that.

The picture (pre-race) below was swiped from Donald Buraglio’s site. (Thanks Donald!) David is #117 (currently ~187lbs, down from 220lbs a year and a half ago). Fifty mile winner Chikara Omine is #75. Jean Pommier and Mark Tanaka with backs to the camera. Many other folks I don’t recognize—apologies). For more pictures and a report on the full 50 mile race, see Donald’s post.

The race started at 6 am, before the sun’s rays began to heat us up. We climbed a few initial hills on a fire road, mostly walking where I was, then ran down the road again and off onto a wooded trail following a meandering stream. This section was shaded as the sun rose, and was full of lovely gentle inclines and downhills. At one point I jumped over the stream crossing rather than climbing carefully down and back out again, and strained something in my foot—I thought it was broken it hurt so much! but it gradually settled down. I need to remember that I’m not 20 anymore! We came out onto fire roads again and more uphills, longer though still gradual and runnable, and still mostly shaded and cool.

Reaching the first full aid station (Dam overlook), the sun had only just peaked over the hills. More fire roads with runnable ups and downs, mostly in the shade, and the second aid station was upon us, more brightly lit and exposed to the sun. These volunteers looked to be getting warm. By this point the runners were pretty spread out. A few people had gone out too fast and were slowing down, and I was able to pass a few folks. We came upon Sean Lang and Gordy directing traffic, and soon there was a long fast downhill section leading back to the dam overlook aid station. I tried to make up for my slowness on the uphills here, and to compensate for having to climb this hill again on the way back. This was now mile 19—my energy levels usually start to fade here, and that’s what happened this day as well.

The next section was not difficult and had a fair amount of downhill, but I was just hot, tired and thirsty, and even the downhills felt bad. It seemed to take forever to finish the 4 mile loop, then climb once more to the Dam overlook aid station. I filled up on fluids and wandered off sipping coke on lots of ice. The long downhill became the long uphill as we retraced our steps, and I managed to muster a run here, but it was intermittent. Finally, there was Sean and Gordy again, making sure we didn’t get lost, then a bit more climb and another long downhill to my last aid station. I was surprised to see I had caught someone, and was inspired to try harder this last section. Only 4 miles to go—how hard could it be? It turned out to be the most difficult part of the course! Soon we were climbing again, short steep hills I had read, but what I found were long steep hills almost impossible to climb at this point. My shin muscles were cramping and I had to walk on tip toe to keep the muscles from cramping worse. I felt a shiver and was sure heat stroke was near too. The hills just kept coming and coming until you forget you thought you’d be finished by now. Finally we came upon the final downhill dash (for those who still had their legs) and the finish.

At this point, there was no question about going out into that heat again. I had made the cutoff time for the 50-mile, but it was miserably hot out there on that trail, and the thought of crawling up those last few hills again in the heat was more than I could take. It turned out David had had enough too, and he brought me ice as soon as I crossed the finish line.

And what a spread at the finish! There was watermelon, strawberries, meats on the grill, salads, desserts. They even had a generator for power and a full sized refrigerator (now that's serious advance planning) with ice cream, and they filled ice cream requests to order (I had ice cream with strawberries). It was fun hanging out and enjoying the food with fellow racers. I got to visit with Barb Elia and Christina Brownson, and a whole bunch of other folks whose names I forgot in post-50K brain fog. I also got to run for a while with Janice O’Grady, one of the founders of the event who returned from Colorado to run it. I talked with Mark Tanaka for the first time (having one of his usual hectic race mornings), as well as Simon Mtuy and Jean Pommier. The 50-mile winner, Chikara Omine was amazingly approachable and gracious, though a superstar already at 26 years old. See Mark Tanaka’s interview. And I finally got to see Bev Anderson-Abbs in person rather than merely watch her shoot by (and even talked with her!). She looks like a consummate athlete—lithe and well muscled. Maybe someday…

I was able to keep my heart rate more consistent than at Diablo or Miwok, which could be a sign of some improvement in pacing. I typically start a race between 150 and 160 bpm, and hold that for a few hours, but the HR gradually drops for unknown reasons over time, down to the 140s, and when I’m really dragging or cold, into the 120–130s. It’s an interesting chicken and egg question—does heart rate decline because of fatigue, or does fatigue increase because of HR decline (the heart can’t deliver sufficient oxygen)? The hints I’ve gotten from questioning coaches is that as glycogen is depleted, there is less energy for anaerobic energy production, and the aerobic heart rate is much lower (see the Maffetone formula, that works out to about 135–140 bpm for someone my age and condition. For other lucky souls, it might be much higher and hence they can blow by me without even breathing hard). I’ve been looking through the research literature, but I still don’t understand the connection between exercise intensity, muscle glycogen reserves and heart rate, but presumably it has something to do with blood lactate levels. This time I also didn’t bother with Vespa, though I had tried it previous races. I think if anything, my energy levels were maintained better than usual, but that may have more to do with pacing and the course.

We decided to experiment more seriously with David’s carb-free race nutrition approach, and have him try and run at his own pace to see if he’d bonk with no carbs. So David started out faster and I didn’t see him the rest of the day until the finish. (and I was lonely…) I carried all kinds of food with me, most of which I never managed to eat. Funny how that always happens. I started out with a bottle of full strength Cytomax, but it got diluted as we went along with the watered down stuff. I forgot one of my water bottles, and so never had the ability to carry extra water—when it grew hot, that became a problem. I ended up eating a few gels, few bites of potato and cups of coke, and a couple ounces of roast beef that I brought along in my pocket. Maybe 500 calories in but ~3000 out (walking uses less than running, but 5500 feet of climbing must count for something).

I was happy to be 54th out of 75 finishers and 5th out of 7 in the 50–59 women (not completely back of the pack for a change) in this field that included 19 first ultra runners (many of whom were faster than me!)

David finished successfully without using any carbs in 32nd place overall (and 7th out of 12 in the 50–59 age-group men). He was running with a heart rate generally in the 150s, substantially above the mid 130s that he typically maintains at my pace, and well above his purely “aerobic” effort. Toward the end he reported distinctly slowing at the same heart rate, but that was probably due to a combination of increasing heat and steeper trails and calf cramps. (The hardest hills, both up and down, in this race are at the very end!) He said he couldn’t sit down to rest for about an hour after the race because his legs kept cramping! It was definitely hot there at the end, and I was glad I managed to keep the cramps at bay as well as I did.

The aftermath: the lung irritation and asthma from before Diablo finally disappeared for good (and hasn’t come back thankfully). My foot (that I thought might be broken) was tender and slightly swollen for a few weeks, though I kept running on it anyway, but mostly has settled down again (though the bones look thicker now—got stronger?). Some hot spots on the balls of the feet, but no blisters (thanks to Drymax socks!)

Miwok 100K Wade-Slide-Walk-Run

Cynthia had some concerns going into this event regarding recovery from Diablo and illness. Though the lung injury incident didn’t seem to have much effect at Diablo, she was coughing and asthmatic all week after, and actually came down with a fever for the early days of the following week (and thought it was swine flu!). Trying to heal and prepare, we did very little running all week, and just tried to get Cynthia’s lungs settled down again (she kept using the steroid inhaler/bronchodilator and upped the vitamin D intake to 10,000 units for the week). This seemed to work, more or less, and we prepared drop bags containing an extra shirt and our Firetrails 50 jackets in case it was cooling off by the second time around at Pan Toll. Cynthia was trying some new food ideas this time as well (mashed potatoes and carrots and sliced turkey, along with more V8 juice!). We headed out as planned on Saturday morning, after getting what little sleep we could when the alarm is set for 3 am.

The weather forecast going into the race was for a mostly cloudy day in between a couple of bands of showers the previous day and the next. We started out in typical Headlands fog just as the sky was starting to lighten up a bit (5:40 am). We started with a brief run across Rodeo Beach: “See that light over there? Run to it, then follow the pink ribbons.” But then we were immediately bottlenecked waiting to get onto a single-track trail, and it wasn’t until we turned onto a paved road that runners were really able to start spreading out and sorting themselves out by speed—that made the first 10 minutes a pretty slow walk for those of us who started near the back of the crowd. Those first few minutes lost turned out to be critical to our day.

Most of the first 10K up to the first aid station was on pavement or gravel fire road, and the weather looked like it was clearing a bit as the day brightened. We kept the pace down (145 beats/min for Cynthia) in hopes of maintaining energy levels more constant during the day. We walked the steeper hills and jogged easily on the gradual ones, taking walking breaks to keep the energy output low. Finally there was some downhill, and we sped up to take advantage of it. Cynthia was going to try Olga’s advice to Rooster to run hard on the downhills, and for a brief while we cruised along at an 8-minute pace, though when we turned off onto trail, we slowed down to a 9-minute pace, despite an effort to keep the pace up. It’s just a fact—trail running is harder than street running.

However, weather-wise, things gradually worsened. Heading up from Bunker Hill, the cool fog was more oppressive than cooling, and the humidity seemed like it might be a problem. We headed up and over the hill and then down much faster toward Tennessee Valley, with Cynthia getting out ahead of David again on the slippery trail. A brief stop at the aid station there to make up new Cytomax drink (another experiment this time), and we headed off down the road and on toward Muir Beach. Here for a brief while, the views were gorgeous. You could actually see the ocean and the world around you (and take a few pictures)! But the first of the saturated trail conditions was making its presence felt as we detoured around a giant puddle in the path. Still keeping the heart rate in the 145 range, we continued up the hills toward Muir Beach, down the steep steps slippery with rain, and back up onto another ridge, before the steep descent toward the beach and the next aid station.

After Cynthia drank some coke and grabbed a few chips, we continued on the next leg, which was quite easy and pleasant, paralleling Hwy 1. However, the weather was going rapidly downhill as it settled into a steady light rain. Cynthia’s Garmin 405 started beeping wildly and switching screens constantly (water under the bezzel?), and there wasn’t much we could do about it. Slowing to a walk seemed to help it, and it quieted down going up the steep climb to Pan Toll. Unfortunately, this is where Cynthia slowed down to a resigned trudge (HR doesn’t lie—only 135), and we were passed by a few stronger walkers. Coming at last into Pan Toll, we tried to grab our food as expeditiously as possible, but our hands were fumbling and cold. Cynthia pulled on a long sleeved shirt for more insulation, but it was quickly soaked.

We continued on, but now we were socked in by cloud and pelted with driving rain by what felt like gale force winds, which threatened to blow us off the trail. Despite wearing a hat to keep the rain off, the wind blew rain on Cynthia’s glasses, both inside and out, and she had to keep stopping to wipe off the drops when the visibility was too poor to see where she was going. By now the trail was churned up mud from the previous 300 runners, and had become very slippery and hazardous with a stream running through the trail in most places. We gave up any hope of keeping our feet out of the water, and plunged through the mud and streams, staying upright as best we could. At one point, David slid off the trail and narrowly avoided straining his back trying to keep his balance. The front-runners began making their way back, and we stepped off the trail to let them by, at least when we could see them coming! Finally, we were back into the trees and out of the howling wind, and could see again at least. We made our way into Bolinas aid station, where they were valiantly trying to dig drainage ditches to keep the water away, drank some coke and continued on in a hurry, as this last leg had taken far more time than anticipated.

All the low spots in the trail along the ridge (and there were plenty of them) filled up with water, and many runners didn’t even try to skirt the edges of the lakes. Those of us who did try didn’t always succeed; we were all contending with soaking wet feet. Running through the puddles was the path of least resistance, but unfortunately, you can’t tell what is there, and might find yourself in a hole! Lakes alternated with rocky outcroppings, and you could never be sure whether to prepare for slippery mud or gripping rock. We were discouraged by the conditions, but trudged along the rolling hills toward Randall turnaround.
Since so much of the trail seemed different from the published altitude profile, we couldn’t tell how far along we really were. The Garmin isn’t that accurate under trees and in rough terrain, so we couldn’t be sure how far we had to go. All we really knew was that this was taking forever, and we had not yet encountered the expected steep downhill. Finally, we reached the turn, and knew that there was still 1000 ft descent to be made in this torrent of a trail. Cynthia took off in desperate hurry, sliding and pounding through the mud, but to no avail, we missed the cutoff time by 4 minutes. Chuck Wilson (aid station captain) pulled us for missing the cutoff (again!) and kindly let us sit in his car while they took down the aid station. Several more runners soon joined our ranks, and we got to talk with Hwa Ja Andrade and Don Wilkison while waiting, both also surprised and out of sorts for being pulled. So our day ended at the turnaround, and we were driven back to the finish to eat, warm up, and collect the extensive race swag.
OK, so much for the conditions! Miwok was a sharp contrast to the heat of the Diablo 50-miler two weeks earlier, but ultramarathoners have to learn to contend with whatever nature throws at them. Apparently, we still have a lot to learn. There was a relatively high no-show rate at the start, and quite a few were forced to drop out when they were unable to stay warm enough and found themselves with insufficient clothing, even some of the top runners. But surprisingly few people actually fell or hurt themselves; these were a tough lot!

But the conditions really slowed everyone down. You can’t run full out when you’re constantly struggling to keep yourself upright and not slide off the trail or zigzagging around puddles. Race management, however, did not see fit to take the conditions into account, and they continued to strictly enforce the predetermined cutoff times. A significant fraction of the runners who made it to the turnaround at 35 miles did so with just a few minutes to spare before the 8 hour and 40 minute cutoff, as judged by the steady stream of people we passed on the way down. Unfortunately, we missed it by 4 minutes (about 0.8%), even though the time allowed for the return trip to Pan Toll was 4 hours (next cutoff time was 6:30)! Even under these conditions, we felt we could have made it the 14 miles back to Pan Toll within the allotted time. Another runner who arrived at the turnaround a few minutes after us was even exactly on his planned race pace—he unfortunately had failed to notice that his planned pace brought him into the turnaround eight minutes after cutoff, even though he had both numbers carefully printed on his laminated race plan. The cutoff times were based on an assumption that you would be slowing down significantly later in the race. In this case, a bunch of us arrive at the turnaround in good condition and quite ready to continue at much the same pace—in fact most of us probably would have made the next cutoff had we been allowed to continue. Not surprisingly, there were significantly more runners who missed the cutoff this year than in previous years.

One of our difficulties with this event stemmed from our relative inexperience on the course. The elevation profile is so abbreviated as to be useless. The initial hill looks like a single climb and descent, but the hill is full of false summits and downhills. So we weren’t sure what the rest of the course held in store based on how the profile failed to fit with the reality. This became a problem later, when we were unsure where the turnaround was, and what to expect on the ridge. There really is no substitute for familiarity with the course, and we should have spent some time up there in advance, trying out the course.
David continued his now-standard practice of fueling himself before, during, and after the race on almost entirely fat and protein. Heat (Diablo) and cold (Miwok) did not affect his nutritional needs. Cynthia was pleased with how easy and satisfying turkey and mashed potatoes were (not much chewing required). Despite the asthma and illness from the previous week, there was little problem due to lungs. Maybe the clean moist air helped.

The heat at Diablo of course dramatically increased the need for water intake. Electrolyte needs are less clear. David used salt capsules regularly at Diablo and not at all at Miwok. At Miwok he had no muscle cramps or other symptoms of electrolyte imbalance. Cynthia got her usual lower leg cramps, but nothing insurmountable. We tend to believe that it is much more effective to treat muscle cramps with plain calcium carbonate antacid tablets, at least when running under normal conditions. Excessive heat and sweating can increase the need for salt, especially if you are a salty sweater or drinking a lot of water. It makes sense physiologically: calcium ions (not sodium ions) mediate muscle contraction, and our experience, with both ourselves and others that we’ve convinced to try it, is that a quick fix of calcium is more effective for managing muscle cramps than downing a bunch of salt capsules. But, of course, that wouldn’t give much of an opportunity to sell a high-priced specialty product…

Besides calcium carbonate (and salt/”electrolytes” in hot weather), our other standard carry-along item is ibuprofen. Cynthia usually starts out with it (or Aleve) to prevent the achiness catching up too early; David can get through easier 50K events without needing any at all, though he does take ibuprofen at the first sign of significant muscle fatigue if there’s a long way to go yet (typically at least 20 miles after the start).

Another innovation we successfully tested out at Miwok was field recharging of Cynthia’s Garmin 405. The standard charging cable connects to its 5 V charger using a USB connector. (You can therefore charge it directly from any computer USB port, if you want to, though that’s not particularly helpful on the run.) But you can also buy “USB batteries.” Ours is made by Lenmar and is a compact 2.5Wh Li-ion battery with a USB connector built in that weighs in at a little over an ounce. When the Garmin internal battery started to run out after around 7.5 hours, we connected the battery and charging cable for a half-hour or so, and were ready to go for several more hours. (Repeat as needed; the USB battery capacity is much greater than the internal Garmin battery.) The only drawbacks are running with the wire wrapped around your arm and securing the battery (in your hand or a pocket), and the functions are not accessible while it’s charging (though it continues to collect data). If you remove the charger for a brief period, you can check your progress, then continue the charging process. In principle, this practice could allow use of the Garmin for 100 mile events or longer (no, we’re not ready for that yet!)

The aftermath and lessons learned: Cynthia’s muscles are (surprisingly) still sore three days later —must be due to the faster downhills. Also, lower abdominals are very sore (iliacus and psoas). David—no pain at all as usual (really, really unfair). Feet survived ok—hot spots seemed much happier running wet and cool. No falls, no injuries. David is still satisfied with his fueling strategy, Cynthia is not—what food she had stayed down well and kept fatigue and nausea away, but was eaten too little or too late to keep her energy levels high. Cytomax was fine, but she got too little of it too apparently (only two bottles).

It seems that trying to keep the pace down at the beginning was the wrong strategy—at least it didn’t seem to prevent Cynthia’s slowdown near the 20-mile mark, and instead just resulted in lost time. Perhaps the biggest mistake was taking it easy on the climb to Pan Toll, where we lost time and got chilled, and once chilled, it was harder to use our hands to put on clothes at the aid station, harder to get at our supplies, harder to move at all. Cynthia is a lousy walker on hills, and needs to learn how to run them or at least walk faster! We expected to perk up and make better time after Pan Toll, but the weather interfered with that bit of strategy. It would have been better to make good time earlier and not hope to make it up later.

So, Miwok remains another piece of unfinished business. Maybe next year will be better, assuming we even get in. Meanwhile, we did get cool race swag as you can see. The women’s shirt has a built-in bra, and the men’s shirt is handsome and manly. The caps are nice and have curved brims (maybe to keep the rain out?! Where were they when we needed them?) We’ll have to try running someplace actually cold to make use of the gloves. The coolest goodies perhaps were the Miwok Trail Ale and glass to drink it in. There was also a nice water bottle that we forgot to include in the picture.