The Hawk Hundred: Something Epic This Way Comes

I’ve been deliberately putting this off. Writing a race report for the Hawk 100 just seemed like too big of a task. In my own mind, the Hawk wasn’t just one race over one weekend; it was the summit of a climb that started in 2007 with my very first trail race. It was all of those miles over the years where I learned what to eat, what to wear, how to pace, how to train, and what it takes to run all day. Admittedly, my own mind probably blew this race way out of proportion but I couldn’t help it. You would think that after running 100 miles, sitting at a computer and hammering out a race report wouldn’t be too hard. But how can I write anything that will do the experience justice? I’ve decided not to try. Instead, I’ll just try and narrate loop by loop and see how it goes. I apologize in advance for the length….but it was a long run.

Pre-race:

Ask enough ultrarunners how they sleep the night before a race and most will say “not very well”.  I’ve never had that problem. I get a little jittery in the days leading up to a race but once I’ve picked up a race packet, I always get a sense of calmness that holds through to the start of the race. The morning of the Hawk; however, was different. I was a nervous wreck…to the point where I was having trouble getting all my pre-race stuff done. I just kept moving aimlessly from the Xterra to the race HQ and back. “Hmm, this is new”; I thought, “Man, I’ve gotta get focused”.  Again, it was probably just my mind turning the race into something more than just another race, it was as if my entire existence as an ultrarunner was about to be either validated or exposed as a fraud. Way too much pressure on myself. Clearly there was a need to stop thinking and start running.

Loop One: Miles 1 to 25

The good thing about a race morning is that, inevitably, the race director says “go”.  All of the mental build-up is suddenly irrelevant as sixty-seven sets of lights dart into the pre-dawn woods (22 running the 100 & 45 running the 50). The first task was an out and back up Sanders Mound (a good way to wake up the legs!) and then it was onto the single-track of the “blue trail”. Runners tend to get pretty spread out an hour or so into an ultra so I usually try to be pretty social in the early phases of a race knowing that I’ll be running solo for hours. The runners I found myself with were all pretty quiet. Maybe it was the early start. Maybe everyone was just really focused on what they were setting off to do but after a couple of failed attempts to chat I decided to turn on the Ipod early (I usually wait until I’m alone at mile 20 or so). It turned out to be a great move. Listening to the appropriately named This Will Destroy You  relaxed me and I re-gained my usual race day calmness. The instrumental music also helped me keep a nice easy pace which wasn't difficult to maintain since no one seemed to be ready to pass yet, either. What’s the rush, we’re running all weekend, right?

The course took us past a small fishing area called Lake Henry and then it was three miles or so out to Lands end and our first aid station. I was feeling pretty good so I ran through the aid station and dropped down to the shoreline trail. Now, if you’ve never ran at Clinton Lake, there’s really no way you can understand the shoreline trail. The term ‘Highly technical’ seems inadequate. I’ve seen people trying to go too fast here who damn near die. Turns out; by the way, that running it four times in one weekend doesn’t seem to make it any easier, but on the first loop at least, I was able to get through the ridiculously rocky section fairly quickly.

Coming out of a bad relationship…err, I mean…the shoreline trail; I ran up on Carl Cleveland. I had recently met Carl on a Lawrence Trail Hawk’s training run. We run a similar pace and like me, he’s a former Marine and was going for his first 100-miler. Cool guy. I also think that training so much on the actual course would pay off for us both before the weekend was over. Carl and I wished each other well and I picked up the pace. Seemed like a good idea at the time…



Next up was Cactus Ridge, a rocky section starting around mile 7 or 8 that climbs up and away from the lake and turns back east. This was pretty uneventful except for the cactus I stepped on… “Well that explains the name”. Coming out of cactus ridge I hit the West End Road Aid station operated by the Kansas Ultra Runners Society(KUS).  These guys and gals really know their stuff. After refilling water bottles and listening to the KUS folks lie to me about how great I was looking , it was time to climb up Bunker Hill and run across a high ridge that had a spectacular view of Clinton Lake to the south and the City of Lawrence to the North-East. At that moment, it hit me, this weekend was special….I hadn’t been able to treat it like ‘just another race’ because it wasn’t just another race. My mind may have been building this thing up but only because I wanted it so bad and finally, here I was taking my shot at the distance. This was real. Ultras are full of highs and lows. I was definitely on a high as I came down off the ridge and moved onto the “white” trail for the run back to the start/finish area.

West End Road Aid Station

The White trail, rather than tracing the shoreline, moves up into all of the Lake’s ravines. On the first loop it still felt relatively flat (this would change!) but it is more technical than the lower trail and can make for a long 12’ish miles back. I popped out of the trail and was happy as hell to see Jessica & the kids hanging out at the start/finish area waiting for me. Jessica said that I didn’t even look like I was sweating….so much dishonesty at Clinton Lake this weekend!?! After a quick stop to talk to Alyena & Ayden, I hit the main aid station 5:11:00 into the race, refilled water bottles, grabbed a banana, a PBJ, and some s-caps and went out for the second loop feeling invincible.

Loop Two: Miles 25 to 50.

Back up Sander’s mound. This time; however, we had to pull a page from a book of poetry Trail Hawk founder Gary Henry had written and then deliver it to him at Land’s End as proof we didn’t skip the mound. The run to Land’s End was a quick three miles and I was still feeling great. As I came up the trail I started yelling Gary’s poem to him “Southern Whiskey in Southern Mountains goes down hard, It’s tough…”, writing now, I can’t remember the rest of it but I had memorized it in those three miles and Gary was gracious enough to act impressed with my ability to memorize a two line poem. A gentleman and a scholar…and a poet…and a liar…and one hell of an aid station captain. Gary worked the Land’s End checkpoint the whole weekend and his crew really took care of me each time I came through.

Land's End Aid Station

After Land's End I basically ran the whole second loop alone. Like I said, runners get pretty spread out in these races. Anyway,  I did pass a few folks near Bunker Hill and one in cactus ridge and a few other runners passed me on the white trail. It was a good second loop. In fact, it was probably a little too good, I hit the start/finish area at the 11:29:00 mark, on pace for sub-24 hours. Holy crap, I really needed to slow it down. Turns out, slowing down would not be a problem.

Loop Three: Miles 50 to 75.

Jessica, Alyena, & Ayden were waiting for me at the 50 mile mark again but I surprised ‘em by showing up a half-hour to an hour earlier than planned. Sort of surprised my pacer too, but he was ready to roll anyway. I had met Rick Troeh at the infamous Psycho Wyco 50K a couple of years ago. He’s an experienced ultra-runner who has finished the Lake Tahoe Triple marathon,  the Pikes Peak marathon more times than I can count, and plenty of ultra distance races. He had approached me at Coleen’s Sweaty Ass Run about serving as my pacer. I hadn’t planned on using a pacer but I jumped at the chance and thought it would be a cool experience as I’d never used one before. He was going to run the last 50 miles with me to get in a good long run in preparation for his own 100-mile race in October at Heartland.

Hittin the 50-mile mark

We took off towards Sander’s mound and suddenly my legs started to seize up a little bit. What the hell? I was doin so good and it was waaay too early in this thing for my legs to start feeling like this. The third loop would turn into an alternating run/speed hike/power-walk/run/etc. Damn, I went too fast too early and I knew it. This was also where Rick helped out a ton. My mood was starting to decline as I got upset with myself but Rick kept telling me that even power hiking sections, I was on pace for an excellent 1^st hundred finish time. He also reminded me that once I hit 62 miles, every step was a PR.

About the time we were coming off Bunker Hill the sun went down and it turned into an entirely different race. I thought the white trail was technical in the daylight, in the darkness it was downright un-runnable. Trail running? No, it was braille running. My mood was matching the darkness. I was just getting slower and slower and I started to really get down on myself. I could hear a clock ticking and I felt like something great was slipping away.

About 16 miles into each loop there was a huge tree that had fallen down across the trail. On the first loop I had jumped over it. On the second loop I went around it, on this third loop I would have gone under it if I could have. Instead, I slowly climbed up and over it and might as well have been maneuvering the Eiger’s Hinterstiosser traverse. I was starting to realize that the fourth loop was going to hurt.

The downed Tree

Rick and I hit the main aid station at about 1:30 in the morning. Jess and the kids were safely tucked in bed at home and to be honest, that was kind of where I wanted to be. The third loop took over seven hours!?! I pushed the desire to call it a weekend aside, swapped out my dimming headlamp for a new one, ate some food, and then we were off for the final loop.

Loop Four: miles 75 to 100!

The final loop was the toughest 25 miles I’ve ever experienced on a trail. I was getting slower and slower and I was starting to think dark thoughts. It’s funny how you can rationalize things. I remember thinking that once the race was over; I would never run 100 miles again. “Maybe 50k races are what I should focus on”. I think there are two ways to look at the 100 mile distance. There are runners who want to run 100 miles and there are runners who want to have run 100 miles, I had always thought that I belonged in that first category but during the first couple hours of the last loop of the Hawk, I was starting to have doubts.

We hit Cactus Ridge around four AM (I think. It was still dark). Up until that point, Rick had been an extremely positive-minded and energetic pacer but he got pretty quiet going through Cactus Ridge. The sleep deprivation was getting to us both. He was running a 50-miler after all and those make for tough days too. I think he battled a few of his own demons on cactus ridge. We were both just struggling to keep moving forward... and I realized that this was good. I remembered some tough climbing expeditions with my brother John, and best friends Aaron & Cameron. The suffering…the pain…the struggle. Putting each other's welfare first on the way to the summit. Rick was out here sacrificing and possibly suffering to help me get to the finish. I decided I had to see this thing through, even if I couldn’t physically get my legs to respond and go any faster, I could do my best and make sure Rick had a full 50 mile training run to help him succeed at Heartland. I had to get my ass across that finish line, not because of any silly self-imposed notion that I needed the distance for validation as a runner…how f&#^$g petty and vain. No, it was about the weekend as a whole and what it really meant to be out there struggling for every step, understanding that we’re not entitled to shit in this life and anything worthwhile is worth going to the edge for. All weekend long I saw runners falling apart, getting back together, wrapping up damaged feet, laughing, crying, falling back and then surging forward. It was epic and it was beautiful.   

Coming down off of Bunker Hill for the last time, Rick and I both seemed to be feeling better. We knew we had the KUS aid station in front of us and despite my earlier sense of doom, we were way ahead of a pace for sub 30 hours (my B goal for the race!). It felt like the white trail; however, was going to make sure it kicked me in the ass on my way out. We finally hit the final Lands End Aid station (mile 94!). Gary Henry and Mark Boucher told us we were looking good (more lies). Gary had race director Danny Miller on the horn and relayed to me Danny’s request to "please get my ass to the finish line".

Lands End is a cross roads of sorts and a runner was coming up the blue trail from the other direction. He was getting ready to hit the shoreline trail and I remember thinking “damn, he’s just now hitting the shoreline, I don't think he’ll make it”. Turns out that dude made it under cut-offs with time to spare. What a tremendous effort. He had to have picked up his pace and hauled ass over the last seventeen miles to get that done. I don’t think I could have picked up my pace like that. At this point in the weekend, I was simply surviving. Leaving lands end, I averaged 28-minute miles over those last six miles. I had multiple muscles seizing up and my football induced old ankle and knee injuries were really thumping. I got passed for the first time in twelve hours at mile 98 and I couldn’t have cared less!

At mile 99 I finally realized that I was going to do it. I popped out of the woods and actually picked up my pace for the last .1 mile. Jessica, Ayden, & Alyena were there waiting. I ran around the sand volleyball pit and saw Danny Miller holding a buckle. Just like that it was finally time to stop moving after 29 1/2 hours. Despite falling apart over the last 50 miles, I had managed to come in under 30 hours and was the ninth place finisher (not sure how many finishers there were and don’t really care). Finally, a 100 mile race in the books. Whether I truly needed validation as an ultra runner or not, it felt freakin awesome!

Mile 99.9!

Wow. I don’t even know where to start. Thanks to co-race directors Danny Miller and Coleen Shaw-Voeks for a truly top notch event. Huge thanks to the Lawrence Trail Hawks for one of the best race experiences of my life and an epic adventure I’ll never forget! Huge thanks to Chris Wristen for the pictures and videos of the race and the encouragement in the months leading up to the Hawk. Thanks to Gary Henry for the stellar aid station service, the poetry, the running mentorship he gives so freely, and for dreaming up the Hawks. Big shout out to the Kansas UltraRunners Society for a great aid station. Thanks to every single volunteer who made this thing happen. A heartfelt special thank-you to my pacer Rick Troeh for all you did, You're a tough runner man and I know you’ll get your 100-mile finish.  

Finally, love and thanks most of all go to Jessica, Ayden, & Alyena for sacrificing many weekends, always supporting me, and going along on the journey over these last few years.

Next up…a little rest and then I’ll close out 2012 with my seventh ultra of the year and "short race", the Lake Perry Rocks! 50K trail race.

Thanks for reading and I’ll see you on the trails!

Pacer Extraordinaire! Rick Troeh & I

Success!

WOW, did this weekend really happen? Finished the Hawk 100 mile race in 29:30 (ninth place). Huge thanks to Co-Race Directors Danny Miller & Coleen Shaw-Voeks and all of the Hawk Hundred volunteers and crew for a truly top notch event! Gotta give a major thanks to my pacer, Rick Troeh, for keeping me moving through the last two loops. I wouldn't have pulled it off without him. Of course, thanks to Jessica, Alyena, & Ayden for all of the years of support - and for coming out at miles 25, 50, and 99.9 to cheer me on. I'll get a proper race report up soon, I'm gonna need a couple of days to process this one!

Two Days Out:

A Couple Thoughts on Preparation...(or, see what happens when I’m thinking instead of running)

So here we are. The start of the Hawk Hundred 100 mile Trail Race is about 50 hours away. I guess the taper is going well because I’m feeling frustrated and restless. Focusing at work this week has been tough but it’s a short week following Labor Day and I’m taking Friday off to get rested up before the race and to start getting my mind right. “Get my mind right”; what the hell does that cliché mean anyway, and can you ever really get your mind right about running 100 miles?

As a former football player, I remember trying to get focused before a game. There was the physical aspect of staying off my feet and resting. There was also the busy work aspect of knowing my stuff; the game plan, the 10-play script, my keys, the hot reads, personnel packages, etc., etc., …and then going over it all again and again. There was also visualization. Seeing the game unfold in your mind….the perfect read, the perfect pass, what you’ll do given a certain scenario. Some of this works for ultra running, too.  We taper and rest to take care of the physical aspect. Most ultrarunners have also put in the miles and “know their stuff” so the technical game plan for the race can certainly fill the busy work of preparation bill. However; I’ve found that visualization doesn’t work anymore like it did when getting ready for football games. Maybe it’s the difference in event duration. A football game was over in a couple of hours, ultramarathons can take a full day or more (ahem…like this weekend). Football is short bursts of violent action with tons of structure on every play requiring constant reading and reacting while running an ultra is a more sustained and maybe mentally abstract event, allowing the mind more idle time. (not to say that running trail doesn't require reaction...I'll be reacting to some gnarly terrain this weekend).

So I feel rested. My gear is together and I have a race strategy that I’m going to go over again and again. But is my mind right? Hmmm, I can draw on some recent ultra successes over the past year and a half and remember the highs and lows of those races in an effort to inform what could happen on Saturday and mentally get ready for it. The low points that is. And therein lays the difference. Not too many Quarterbacks visualize themselves throwing interceptions, fumbling, or feeling pain. Sports psychologists who talk about visualization usually do so from the positive mental image creation standpoint (remember…the perfect read, the perfect pass). In getting mentally ready for an ultra, I’ve found that rather than drawing from my football days for inspiration, I’m better served looking to my career as a Marine. You’re going into a situation that you’ve trained relentlessly for, it’s going to be difficult no matter how much you’ve trained, there are going to be some really dark times, and things are going to go wrong at some point. Getting your mind right can be as simple as taking a deep breath and making the decision to do whatever needs to be done.  
 

So here we go.

Race day is almost here and I’ve got to thank some people in advance. Its been a long time coming but no matter what happens this weekend, I’ll be at the starting line of my 1^st 100 mile race because a ton of awesome people have helped get me there.  Trail Hawks, Trail Nerds, Marines, friends and family; whether I pull this thing off or not, I’m gratefull to so many. Especially Jessica, Alyena, and Ayden my real “support crew”.

Anyway, its time to work on that “rest” part. I can’t wait to see everyone and run with you all on Saturday. It’s going to be great sharing the trail with so many ultra runners out there doing what needs to be done.

Let’s do this

2012 Psycho Psummer Trail Run & Coleen’s Sweaty Ass Run:

Blood, Sweat, and (Finding New) Gears

I hate running in the heat. Okay, hate IS a strong word.  Through five years of serious Ultra and trail racing, a trend was starting to form. Race well in the cold and fall apart in the heat. 50-mile night run in the middle of January? No problem. 50k races on a day where the high hits single digits?…I’m your man. Crisp autumn day and I’ll probably nail a PR.  But as the temperature rises so do my finish times. To a certain degree (pun intended), this is probably true for everyone but for me, its really bad. Some of the most miserable days I’ve had on the trail have been during the summer months. I’ve hurled on the Psycho Psummer 50k course, I’ve lost dangerous percentages of body weight on the plains of Western Kansas, and I’ve been sun poisoned and near heat stroke in the deserts of Southern California.  Now, I’m a tough guy….but if you’ve heard me whining during an ultra, chances are the temperature was over 95 F’. But this summer, something changed.

I’ve only ran two events so far this summer: the Psycho Psummer 50k on July 14^th and Coleen’s Sweaty Ass run (50 miles) on August 11^th.  At Psycho, I ran a PR for the event in severe heat on a course that was a couple miles longer than usual. I finished the Sweaty Ass in eleven hours and some change and came through the finish in pretty good shape compared to my last 50 miler (a winter race, no less).  So, what changed? For starters I did a ton of heat training as we had long stretches of days with highs in the 100’s, but that can’t be the only factor…I heat train every summer.

The last week or so I’ve been comparing this summer to the previous five and I think the real key has been getting hydration, nutrition, and electrolyte needs really dialed in. Also, putting more effort into staying cool has helped. In severe heat, you’ve got to put a ton of thought and effort into keeping your body temperature down. In other words, S-Caps in the mouth and cold water over the head! Both of which can be easily accomplished at a well supported race. At the Psycho, I ran with two water bottles; one for drinking and one for pouring. With aid stations every three miles apart it was well worth losing a little time to get ice-water into the “pouring” bottle. The glacier cold water over the head every five minutes was amazing and kept the engine running cool.  I was also hitting an S-cap every 30 minutes and mixing ‘real food’ in with my usual steady running diet of gels. At the Sweaty Ass, it wasn’t as hot but I still kept a regular schedule of S-caps to keep the hydration balanced. Getting into a self-maintanence mode while I run has really allowed me to make some big gains over the last year. At both races, I was able to find new gears I didn’t know I had. But I don't think I've gotten that much faster, I’ve just started to run smarter.

During previous summers, I just kind of toughed it out. I’ve always had a blood, sweat, and tears style to my trail running. It’s supposed to hurt, right? Suck it up buttercup! Well, like my dad use to tell me when he coached my pop warner football team “Jay” he’d say, “if you’re gonna be stupid, you’d better be tough”.  What he was trying to tell me was “don’t be stupid” apparently all I heard through my still-ringing helmet was “…be tough”.  So I’m a slow learner. It only took me six years of running ultras to figure out that it takes a total commitment to self-care during a race to start finishing better.

There’s a reason ultra runners refer to running a “smart race”. No matter how much you train, you’ll never just ‘muscle’ your way to ultra-running prosperity.  Trust me…I’ve tried. Running ultra distances is still the toughest physical thing that I do and I've still got a long way to go to get where I want to be, but I don’t ‘hate’ the heat as much anymore. There’ll always be blood and sweat, but I’ve learned there doesn’t have to be tears.

Anyway, this has been more rant than race report so it’s time to bring it to a close. Take care of yourselves out there!

2012 Free State Trail Run 100k Trail Race

The best laid plans…

Wow, talk about neglect. Social services needs to take this blog away from me and find it a good loving home. I’ve probably been abandoned by my readers and dropped by my sponsors. Of course, by readers I mean my mom and a couple of friends and by sponsors I mean the one pair of free running socks that were sent to me by accident last fall. This blog neglect, like a DNF on race day, could be rationalized through all manner of excuses but the bottom line is that I simply didn’t make the “distance” that I set out to do. Even more disheartening is the fact that the plan to increase the blogging frequency upon graduation in May has resulted in a whopping zero posts. Anyway, every race can’t be a PR so while I’m admittedly chasing blogging cut-off times, I’m not ready to DNF. I’ll hang in there and see what happens.

A surprisingly chilly pre-race

Speaking of near-DNFs, plans gone awry, and hangin in there.... on April 28th I ran the Free State Ultra 100k Trail Race. Back in 2010, Free State was my first attempt at the 100k distance, an attempt that remains my only DNF – although not 'officially' since I was still listed as a 40-mile finisher. In 2011, it was my first successful 100k and at that time I wrote a pretty detailed (and no-doubt over-dramatic) race report. Since the course was identical in 2012…and since it was now long enough ago that no one cares (except, of course, my mom and a couple of friends) I will shoot for brevity and maybe just share some overall thoughts about the day.  

While a 100k finish in 2011 was supposed to be the next step on the way to a 100 mile race, I decided that I wanted another shot at the 100k distance before moving up to 100s. Between the 2011 and 2012 Free States, I had PR’d for the 50k distance (twice) and pulled off a 6 ½ hour winter Psycho Wyco. Going into the 2012 race I was consistently running 40-60 miles per week, I was rested and tapered, I was healthy, I was confident, and I was going to knock an hour or more off my previous 100k time…at least that was the plan.  

The Free State Ultra 100k course consists of three 21’ish mile loops on the Clinton Lake North Shore Trails. The first loop was perfect as I knocked it out in four hours. The second loop started out fine but around mile 24 the wheels started to fall off the wagon. I have no idea what happened to me mentally but I just started to feel like I didn’t want to be out there anymore. I had a little Plantar Fascia pain going on in my left foot but it was no big deal…I’ve ran through far worse pain. In 2011, my first two loops were solid and I just gutted out the third so when I was feeling so bad before the 30-mile mark, I started doubting my ability to “gut out” two whole loops. For some reason I still haven’t figured out, those type of negative thoughts hit me that day like never before and as most ultra-runners know, once your mind starts down that path it can be tough to reverse it. Debbie Webster ran up behind me and we talked and ran for four miles or so. I remember telling her I was dropping at mile 40 due to the PF pain (seemed reasonable at the time). She offered some encouragement and reminded me to take in some calories. I appreciated her positivity but I was going to need some more miles to ‘work’ out my issues.

Awesome volunteers at Land's End!

I think my own expectation going into the race was a factor in why I started feeling crappy.  As I slowed down on the second loop the math wasn’t adding up for my time goals and I think this was discouraging. The plans were going to shit. It looked like 2012 would be slower than 2011….what the hell?!? I’d come so far and felt so disappointed that I wanted to quit.  “Screw it, it just isn’t my day”.  A DNF for no physical reason…weak, I know, but that’s where I was at.

As ultra-runners, it seems like we exist in a continuous cycle of planning. There’s training plans, weekly mileage goals, deciding when to eat, what to eat, when and where to run. Leading up to races or climbing expeditions I can become obsessed with logistical planning, travel arrangements, crew issues, and tons of details. For the event itself, many of us are meticulous about pace, hydration, calories, or gear. I’ve always found that good planning can be a direct contributor to a successful finish. However, I’m starting to learn that you need to ‘plan’ for the plan not to work. I had a football coach once tell me that the only thing guaranteed to happen in a game is that at some point; everything is going to go completely to shit. What you do at that point is what really matters.

Somewhere between miles 38 and 40 I decided that there was some value in just pushing through a bad day. So I wouldn’t hit my time goal….that would have been a lame reason for DNFing, I’m just glad I realized it in time!

As with all KC Trail Nerd events, the volunteers at the mile 40 aid station were phenomenal and I went out on my final loop in a mental 180’. Talk about salvaging the day, I ran about 80% of the last loop and came in three minutes faster than my 2011 time. Three minutes, OK maybe not an hour off my prior year but after the second loop from hell, I was ecstatic. What did I learn? No matter where you think your training is, always respect the distance. Your own mind can be your worst enemy. Don’t quit on yourself too soon, no matter how convincing an argument your mind makes, and most importantly, even the best laid plans will not work out...deal with it.

Some buckles come harder than others!

A belated thanks to Bad Ben Holmes and the KC Trail Nerds for another stellar event, you guys and gals continue to set the standard! Huge thanks to Dick Ross of seeKCrun.com for all the pictures and support. As always, I’m grateful to the volunteers who make it all possible…no one runs an ultra on their own but I’ve never used a crew because the Trail Nerd volunteers are just that good! I owe them beyond measure!

Finally, love and thanks to Jessica, Alyena, and Ayden, my real support crew.

Up next. Hopefully the blog hibernation is over. I’m running the Psycho Psummer 50k on Saturday, Coleen’s Sweaty Ass Race in early August (a 50-miler at night), and my first 100 mile race (the Hawk Hundred) is in September. I’ve also got an idea for an unsupported solo run across the Flint Hills trail from Council Grove to Osage City, Ks. A company has sent me some inserts to try out so I may be writing a gear review over the next few weeks. Anyway, thanks for reading.

See you on the trails!

2012 Psycho Wyco Run Toto Run 50k Trail Race: Another year, Another Test

No matter what other races I run, climbs I do, or adventures that I go on; there’s one race that keeps calling me back.  My first race of any distance back in 2007, the Psycho Wyco Run Toto Run 50k Trail race has become an annual litmus test. Racing only myself, I’ve measured my growth as a trail and ultra-runner by how I perform each winter on the bridle and single-track trails which climb and fall around Wyandotte County Lake.  Last weekend I took a sixth measurement.   

At “Wyco”, there’s the terrain. If you’d never run the 10.35 mile loop trail around the Lake, you would not believe such topography could exist in Kansas. I’ve seen GPS estimates of 4500 feet of climbing per loop, that’s 13,000 feet of climbing…in Kansas!?!? Then there’s the weather. February in Kansas is cold, but it can be a wide-range of possible “colds”.  Thick or thin ice, wet or dry snow, cold rain and mud, wind and freezing temps, or any possible combination of any or all of the above…you just never know what the trail will look like on race day. Arguably the toughest, slowest, and most frustrating 50K course outside of the mountains, it’s known for steep climbs, quad mashing descents, ice, snow, and mud…lots of mud. More cage-fight than trail run, there’s no such thing as an easy day at “Wyco”. In the weeks leading up to the race, I seemed to forget this.

As a local, I’ve been spoiled with the warmest Kansas winter I can remember in my entire life (we had a 70 degrees F. day in January!).  It was also dry…up until a few days before the race when the rain hit. “Ok”, I thought, “so it’ll be muddy as usual…but warm”.  The day before the race, the temperature plummeted to single digits with negative wind chills, the jacked-up horse-trodden trail surface froze as solid as concrete, and I realized that I had not been training in the extreme cold weather. This was gonna hurt.

So early Saturday morning, with no temperature outside (zero deg.), I made the half-hour drive to the lake and joined a few hundred other nut-jobs for a trail run.

Early in the first loop.

Loop One:

Not usually one to sit in a warm car, I tried to go through my usual pre-race stretching and warm-up routine and walk around the race HQ chatting…that didn’t work. It was COLD (colder than the frost-bite on the toe inducing 50-mile winter night run I did early last year). I kept the inside of my truck company until just before the race started. It turned out to be a good “strategy” as I started towards the back of the pack running nice and easy, finally beating that tendency to put the hammer down early. I consider myself a pretty experienced winter trail runner and can usually feel comfortable by mile two or so, but today the entire first loop left me chilled. I couldn’t seem to get any heat going. I felt slow and frozen the entire 10 miles.  By the time we hit the first road crossing, I had icicles in my beard.  My hand-held water bottles froze around mile six so I wasn’t taking in fluids at my usual rate. The surface of the trail was horrible. Frozen solid; it was like running on asphalt…no it was worse than that because asphalt is flat. It was like running on an asphalt road that had been jackhammered beyond reason. Other than that, it was a good start! Somehow, I finished the loop in 1:57:00.


Loop Two:
The original strategy was to run as self-supported as possible and just skip all of the aid stations but I had spilled water on my left glove while trying to get the ice-ringed lid off of a water bottle so pausing to get a fresh pair of gloves couldn’t be helped (x-tra gloves in the drop bag – lesson learned from Psycho ’08).  It was also an opportunity to grab two unfrozen (for the moment) bottles. The jacket also came off since I was planning to pick up the pace and was finally starting to feel unfrozen.

The second loop felt pretty good and I thought my pace was reasonable given that I wanted to save something this year for that third loop. As I hit the first aid station of the loop, I tossed a water bottle to Mark Van Nuland, who, along with the other volunteers, was spending a cold day providing “lights-out” service and care to runners. He thawed the bottle and topped it off while I was down in the twisting and confusing single track of the “Wyandotte Triangle”. 

Wyandotte Triangle Aid Station

Mark’s words of encouragement as I left the triangle gave me a boost and I picked up the pace all the way to “fall-down-hill”, an endless series of quick switchbacks that drop runners down below the dam. From there it was a run across a field and a serious climb back up to lake level and the top of the damn dam aid station. I went ahead and stopped here again to take in some calories before starting the long haul up the dam (damn) road. As a paved road, it’s the one section of the course that’s always “run-able” but I rarely see anyone “run” it due to the vertical gain. A huge drop off and a great view to the Northeast make the road a nice excuse to slow down.  From the top of the hill we moved back into the forest and down “speed-demon ridge”.  I love technical descents and the ridge is always my favorite part of the loop. For the first time ever though, I got passed on this descent!?!?! A guy was just flying down this thing sideways! He wasn’t running exactly, he was doing some weird kind of sideways skipping action. Strange, but it was working for him. Still, getting passed on a technical descent fired me up (it just doesn’t happen to me!) and I made good time to the three hills section where I had to cool my jets a bit.

Coming out of the "triangle".

After the first eight miles of a loop, you think you’ve got it in the bag with “only” two miles to go…you don’t. Wyco hits you one more time on the way out! In my opinion, those last two miles of the loop are the toughest.  They include the aptly named “three hills section”, which are three serious hills that hit one after the other...after the other. If you can run that entire section, congratulations…you are a badass. I was feeling decent but decided to ease through the “hills” since I knew I’d have to face them once more.

Feeling like my loops were even and expecting to hit the main start/finish area at 4:00:00 I was a little disappointed that the clock read 4:12:00.  The second loop felt faster than the first…looks like I jacked around with aid stations too long.

Loop Three  

I decided to ditch the hydration pack and just run with two bottles. My previous PR at Psycho was 7:29:00 so I felt good about my PR chances as long as I didn’t do anything stupid.  Another runner and I had leap-frogged a number of times on the second loop and we started the final loop together. He was moving really strong so I backed down and watched him disappear ahead. By this time the frozen surface was starting to wear on my ankles and my pace started slowing dramatically. By the time I hit the triangle I was in a really dark place mentally. This is all too common at Wyco; the third loop can really eat runners up. Two solid loops can be lost in vain if the final round turns into a death-march. Even knowing this, I couldn’t stop the slide.

I kept chugging along and managed to find myself on the Dam road chatting with another former Marine who recognized the watch-cap I was wearing. It got me thinking about all my Marines that I miss since I left active duty. There’s been a couple of Ultra’s where I’ve ran into Marines and it’s always given me a little boost. No matter what I accomplish in life (ultra’s, grad school, football, whatever) there’s really nothing I’m more proud of than the fact that I was a Gunnery Sergeant of Marines. It’s a well that doesn’t dry up and today the “moto” feeling hit me at the right time. I went screaming down speed-demon ridge and hit festers wander free of the self-pity I’d been dragging behind me since the triangle.


Fester’s wander is a super fun section of single-track that was designed by the race director’s dog. It climbs up and down through a series of fingers and ridgelines and is very scenic. It was in the wander that I noticed a runner behind me. I managed to hold him off until right up until the “boat yard” when we started running together. “Bruce” from Minnesota turned out to be a pretty good running partner for the rest of the race. I think we pushed each other. I ran as much of the three hills section as I could…which meant all of the flats and the first quarter of each of the three monster hills. As I came down the tree-lined finish lane I saw the clock read 6:48:00! Finally, sub-7.  Way-better than I expected given what the third loop felt like. I passed the test for another year, beating my PR by 40 minutes. Here came the gush! I felt like throwing my water-bottles in the air, getting naked and running all the way to the parking lot …but I restrained myself.  I settled for a 50k sticker and cup of chicken soup.

Speaking of gushing! KC area trail runners….whose got it better than us?

I can’t say thank you enough to “Bad” Ben Holmes and the KC Trail Nerds. Trail Nerd races are absolutely the bench mark. Not just locally; nationwide I haven’t seen anyone do it better!!! And how about the volunteers? These guys and gals got up way earlier than any racer and braved the bitter cold all day just to take care of runners and make this whole thing happen.

Huge thanks to Dick Ross and crew of seekcrun for the thousands of great pictures. Not too many races where you can just get online and download race photos by the hundreds for no charge. You provide an invaluable service to the KC trail scene! Thanks also to Kristi Mayo for taking some high quality pictures as well!


Tons of gratitude to Matt, Rick, Bruce, Brandon, Larry, Mark, Travis, the sideways hill bomber, the unnamed former Marine officer, and all of the other nut-job ultra-runners with whose company I had the honor to keep today! Congrats to fellow KU Med School'er Brandon Hideka who won the 20-mile race! you killed it!

Most of all, love and thanks to my wife Jessica who has supported my ultra-running ambitions from the beginning; and my kids Ayden and Alyena. You guys are with me every mile of every run!


Psycho Wyco Run Toto Run Race times:
2007 – 8:30:23
2008 – 8:05:15
2009 – 7:46:18
2010 – 7:43:00
2011 – 7:29:00
2012 – 6:49:00
I’m slowly getting where I want to be…by my calculations, I should win this thing in my sixties.

Starting Line of the 50K & 20-miler.