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.

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!

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!)

Diablo kicked my butt!

I was thrilled and excited to try out my hill training on the Diablo 50 mile course, though in retrospect I probably should have just signed up for the marathon, since I told myself it was meant as a good hard training run for Miwok. Considering that the times for Diablo 50 are about the same as Miwok’s 100K, that pretty much says it all—Diablo is not a training run for anything- it’s a serious encounter in its own right.

Starting out on single track

A bad omen occurred on Saturday: I happened to be buying some supplies and saw alpha-lipoic acid supplements that I had just read about on Mark’s Daily Apple, and decided to try them. This material is supposed to be a potent antioxidant, restore glutathione levels and to protect mitochondria from oxidative damage. I read a few other studies about it, and it seemed worthwhile, so I popped a capsule, bent over to see something on the computer screen, and immediately realized I had swallowed it into my trachea! It wouldn’t come out, It was blocking airflow, and as the capsule started to swell from hydrating in my body, I panicked. After a few Heimlich maneuver’s from David and some other unpleasant aftereffects, the pill was out of my trachea, but I went into a nasty asthma attack from the junk that had leaked into my lungs! I am familiar with asthma, having had problems with it in the past. So I had a steroid/bronchodilator inhaler handy, used it and managed to be mostly clear by Sunday AM in time for the race (after wheezing and coughing up phlegm for most of Saturday and Saturday night). Pretty scary experience. Note to self: take pills with water and swallow carefully!

Marching up the hill

But the asthma seemed to abate by race time, and I toed the line with everyone (ok brought up the back of the pack). It was warm already (another bad omen), but was a gorgeous day, and I resolved to deal with the heat as best I could. The ascent up Diablo was as expected. We tried it out a few weeks ago, and it went faster and easier on race day than I expected—something about all the adrenaline. There was very little actual running at this stage, but it was a fun and beautiful and relentless climb. At the Juniper Aid Station I got to meet the very adorable Victoria. I think Miki may have been there too, but I missed her somehow. Meanwhile, we continued to the summit uneventfully, paid our respects to the view at the top, said hello to Don and Gillian running the marathon, and continued on. The downhill stretch was nice—pretty steep, not real fast, but we were cruising. Then suddenly, a hamstring muscle (sartorius?) seized up on me. I’ve had cramps in races before, but they are usually annoying little things, like in the foot or lower leg, something you can run through. But suddenly I found myself immobile, unable to even walk. David came to find out what was keeping me and massaged it a bit, and when it finally stopped seizing, I walked for a while taking copious amounts of water, Enduralytes and calcium carbonate, and gingerly started jogging again. (The cramps never did return, but that muscle hurt for days after.) We hit Juniper again, the day becoming quite warm, refilled on fluids and food and continued on the long rolling downhill stretch to North Gate aid station, admiring the views while trying not to go flying off the trail. Somewhere along this trail, there is a patch of sparkly minerals (mica maybe) that made it seem like we were entering Disneyland or some fairy tale. I longed to just sit and play with the stones, but it was baking hot in the sun, and didn’t seem like a really good idea at the time with cutoff times and all, so we continued on down and down to the aid station. They were running low on ice, but we took what ice and fluids we could and continued on as expeditiously as possible. We passed a few people during this five-mile loop, people injured or suffering from the heat. This section was quite nice, with some shade and creek crossings, a few encounters with sedate cows and polite horseback riders, and then a long climb back to North Gate, where I was desperate for more water. When we arrived the second time, there was ice and Coke but not much to eat—I grabbed a cookie, though this was not appealing, and tried to choke it down without success. Apparently, it was 93° F in the shade of the tent.

Can you say “steep”?

Then ensued what felt like a death march through shimmering waves of heat on exposed sections of fire roads, up and up toward the Rock City aid station. Though it wasn’t really very far, it seemed to take forever, as the heat was taking its toll on me. I kept my bandana and shirt soaked with squirts of water from one bottle, and this cooling was enough to keep me going, but not very fast. I passed one poor soul suffering from a stress fracture in his foot, keeping his pace to a hobbling walk. The fire road gave way to a shady trail and short precipitous decline, then another half mile or so of climbing on roads until we finally reached the next aid station, just in time for the cutoff. We grabbed some supplies stashed there: a spare bottle of David’s favorite liquid fuel—coconut milk and whey protein, and for me frozen V8 juice and a couple of beef tamales (don’t laugh, I got down one of the tamales eventually and immediately felt better!). In the rush to move on, I forgot the charger we bought to keep the Garmin 405 alive, so it eventually shut itself off, after about 26 miles. I saw Rick returning already just as I was leaving the Rock City aid station. (He looked amazingly fresh and strong for having run 37 miles in this heat already!)

Heading toward Eagle Peak

The trail to Finley Road aid station was quite nice at first, shady and following a stream, but it quickly morphed into more uphills or at least rolling hills on fire roads. This section should have been easy, but it was hot and I was bonking. Eating and running is hard. By this stage I had had three gels and a carb/protein supplement (Cliff Shot Recovery Drink), one square of PB&J sandwich, a small handful of chips and a few cups of coke. Apparently, not enough. My heart rate had averaged 155 bpm for the initial ascent, meaning that I was working at nearly 90% of my maximum heart rate, well into anaerobic threshold, and 140 bpm for most of the rest. Since I rarely train at that high an effort for long periods of time, I’m pretty sure I was glycogen depleted, despite trying to supplement. Of course, David was having an easier time of it, waiting patiently for me, and feeling good. Managing the best speed I could, we continued on our way, passing many others on the return, all saying “Good job.” I finally understand why ultrarunners say that—it’s because it’s short, sweet, and positive, and best of all, keeps you from looking like a moron when you can no longer put words together to make a sentence because your brain has ceased functioning.

Almost there

The day was waning by now, but not the heat. We started the last long steep hill leading down to the Finley aid station, and I was completely dreading having to trudge back up that hill. I was pretty sure we wouldn’t make the next cutoff at Rock City due to my utter slowness, and was ready to drop here. I saw my friend Chuck Wilson, a veteran of 200 ultras, sitting there with legs that refused to work anymore, and he was getting a ride back. This seemed like a great idea at the time, but the aid station volunteers explained that we’d have to get back on our own because they didn’t have room in their vehicle. Another guy came up hoping to drop as well as his knee was in bad shape, but we were all sent back up the hill. Then another guy came down the hill, suffering mightily from leg cramps, but we told him no one else was getting out at Finley—he would have to head back up the hill too. We left the two suffering men to keep each other company and struggled to get back to the Rock City aid station. I hope they got back OK! I talked to one man’s worried wife, but she couldn’t reach him on her cell phone at the aid station.

View from the top

I resolved to get up this hill and back to the aid station as best I could in a vain hope of making it by the cutoff time. I suggested to David that he go on ahead and try to make it, but he opted to stick with me. (Thanks!) I chomped down finally on my tamale and just kept going up the hill—and you know, once I had some fuel in my belly, it wasn’t so bad! We had also brought some applets and cotlets, which I had forgotten to eat earlier due to my brain fog. Once the tamale and sugar were in my stomach, and the shadows were getting longer and the breeze cooler, I felt like a new woman and was ready to continue. But alas for naught, they pulled us from the course, and I joined the other runners in the van for the long drive back to the finish, many of whom were in much worse shape than us—nauseous, crampy, and exhausted. Diablo certainly took its toll that day.

The way ahead

I’m pretty sure I could have finished the race in time, but wasn’t given the opportunity. There were supposed to be 150 starters for the 50 mile, but only 106 finished. On this particular day, that was doing pretty well I’d say. I don’t feel too bad having missed the opportunity to finish. It just means I’ll never rest until this particular devil is met and conquered—maybe next year. That said, it’s probably for the best. It turns out I was developing a blister on the ball of one foot unawares, and if we had continued, it could have become very painful and I might not have been able to recover very well. As it was, I had three blisters in spots I wasn’t expecting on my right foot, but the left foot was perfectly fine. Completing 37 miles at Diablo is certainly enough for a training run for Miwok, but I am humbled and lacking in confidence at this stage, and worrying about making cutoffs once again.

The aftermath and lessons learned:

The lung injury due to inhaling lipoic acid wasn’t a problem during the race, but the asthma and congestion plagued me all week afterwards.

Minor blisters, quads were sore on Monday- we went for a walk which was fine, but legs said resounding “No!” to running even a few steps. Tuesday, legs felt better, gave them a nice walk anyway. Wednesday was another rest day, mainly because of time constraints. Thursday, antsy to get back on the trail, we ran some short hilly trails with no soreness. Friday an easy recovery run, trying to keep heart rate down, and did a familiar loop in better time than expected. Saturday, we ran 13 hilly miles, but I got completely exhausted by the end—maybe I’m not so recovered after all! I conclude we did a fine job of acclimatizing the quads and gluts to the rigors of hills, but I still need to work on basic endurance and speed.

Keeping the bandana and T-shirt damp is very helpful—but carrying ice in your hands is even better (my hands are always hot when running). The frozen V8 juice was delightful—I used it to chill my hands and arms and neck, and wished I’d brought another bottle full. I wish I could have managed Rick’s suggestion to put ice in a bandana around my neck, or put it in my cap, but in the rush at aid stations I could never remember to. Even so, in real heat, ice doesn’t last long. Carrying enough water is essential. I was constantly and voraciously thirsty, and this is very unusual for me. Once I remembered to start taking salt and calcium, cramps were kept at bay.

V8 juice is delicious on the trail (so is chicken broth, turkey sandwiches, sushi, pretty much any “real” food IMO) . Aplets and Cotlets are nice—not so chewy and sticky as Cliff blocks- and go down well. But basically, I’m still looking for a fueling strategy that works for me. It could be that I need to hold back so as not to glycogen deplete quite so fast, but that’s not a great option, being slow and all. It could be that I need to supplement even more with gels etc., every half hour or something, or that this is not necessary at all and not a good idea when using Vespa (which I did). David is still sold on his fuel, easy to drink, no muss or fuss. Maybe I should try it!

Finally, one of the rules of training is specialization: in this case, it means if running Diablo, train at Diablo, because nowhere else are the conditions quite so tough!

Here are some more pictures. If you want to be identified in any of these photos, leave a comment!

Eagle Peak from beyond

Trudging up

Baldy Ridge

Deer Flat Road

On the way up to Juniper Campground

Getting close

Breaking into a shuffle

Across North Peak to Sacramento River

Back toward Eagle Peak

Of course you can just drive to the top, but where’s the fun in that?

All the way up the steps to the tower

Down, down, down toward North Gate

Getting hot on those exposed trails

Horses looked hot too

Trudging desperately toward Rock City and a reprieve from the heat

Getting closer to Rock City

Single track toward Finley Road