The Unknown Runner

[note - a momentary break in the ongoing series]
[edited- 1/30/14 to provide original blog link to Tsutomu Nagata]
As I sit here nursing a traumatic first time loss of my big toenail I have time to pause and reflect back on my first 100 where I stayed in the game - not merely struggling to the finish.

Photo courtesy of Aravaipa Running.
Just before the first aid station of the 100mile race.

Who is this guy matching my step? After the first aid station into the Coldwater Rumble 100 I moved to the side of the trail and let the unknown runner come abreast.

“Good morning. Howsit goin?” I say between gulps of a bar and water.
“Huh? Hello.”
“My name is Catlow. What is yours?”
“Hm? Englis not very gut”
“What…is….your….name?”
“oh. Nagata.”
“Nice…to…meet…you…Na-ga-ta!”
“yes. Nice meet you to.”

And we continued on. Realizing our pace was too fast for me to sustain and wanting to better assess Nagata as a runner I pulled over around mile 12 to water some desert scrub. And, that was a mistake. Nagata turned on the heat and quickly pulled away. At each aid station the gap grew. Completing the first loop at mile 20 I ask Nick Coury (the RD),

”Who is that guy?”
“We have no idea. Some dude from Japan.”

James Bonnett strolls over as I refill by bottles and wisely advises me to slow down as that is not a sustainable pace. I listen. I complete my 2nd, 20mile loop 22 minutes slower and find myself 20 minutes behind Nagata.

Nick informs me that Nagata is a fast runner who ran a 100km in 6hrs and 44min. I shoot back,

“Are you sure he knows this is a 100mile not a 100km race?”

My goal for this early season race was to simply gain experience running 100mile races. No records, no racing. Just to overcome my distance-related fears, hone my hydration and nutrition, and get in some base miles.

Discovering this unknown runner early in the race revved up my competitive juices. But now 20minutes behind at mile 40 I considered myself out of the game and tried to block him out of my mind.

Then at the mile 51 aid station I was told he was only a few minutes ahead, not looking very good, and walking a bit. Ah, he blew up and now is suffering. I’ll reel him in, pass him, and then forget about him and I can go on with my original focus.

At the mile 56 aid station I catch him. He looked exhausted. Worrying about him, I ask him if he is ok. The low desert can be harsh even in January. With assurance I then quickly move out and down the trail. Two minutes later Nagata shows up back on my heels and matching my pace. Who is this guy? What resolve to press on! I’m impressed but also fearful that he may have recovered and is ready to move on again. I determine to stay in front, control the pace, and not let him ahead of me like I did the first lap.

We roll into the start/finish at mile 60 – 8 minutes slower than the previous 20mile loop. Nagata continues to stay on my heels. I am at my limit but I feel I can sustain the pace. My stomach is knotted so chews and bananas only; my toe hurts and sand is in my shoe but I can’t afford the time to change my shoes; I press on and maintain the lead to control the pace.

About two-thirds around the 60-80mile loop there is a fun, fast downhill to the aid station. I use my downhill skills to let loose. A small gap opens on Nagata. I race threw the aid station – recognizable as a blur. Dusk is at her finale and the light dims. I wait to turn on my light as I wish to be invisible in setting my gap on Nagata. With ~2miles to starting the final loop (mile 80) I flip on my light and glide into the start/finish only 7 minutes slower than the previous loop.

Steve Poling comes up to me as I restock with my Mom’s help and asks if I want a pacer for the last loop. Do I? I have been so focused on Nagata that I hadn’t considered having a pacer. He mentions his runner quit and he would enjoy the experience. What the heck…why not then?

I set out on my last loop with Steve at my side. Nagata is nowhere in sight. I wonder what might have happened. Not wanting to take any chances based on earlier race dynamics I continue to push to maintain my pace. Steve and I dispense with the pleasantries and focus on the rocky trail ahead.

My legs are tired. I gag on a chew and hurl the last few I consumed onto the side of the trail. I barely break my stride and keep moving forward. Nagata could come up any second. Steve became my surrogate Nagata – running at my heels for the last 20 miles – and helped me stay focused.

Photo courtesy of Aravaipa Running.
Celebrating the finish! 

We fly into the finish – only 3 minutes slower this final lap then the previous loop – at 15:09. A new 100mile PR and on a slightly tougher course than Javelina Jundred. I’m ecstatic! But where is Nagata?

Read Tsutomu Nagata's account: translated into English or original blog in Japanese – a must read! I am grateful for the opportunity to test my racing game with this unknown runner and admirable competitor. He kept me focused and pushed me to finish my first 100 feeling strong. His friendly camaraderie throughout, his resolve to keep up even when exhausted, and his tenacity to finish after frustrating setbacks is an inspiration.

To running and pushing ourselves beyond our own mental limits.

Cheers to you Unknown Runner!

I glance at my grossly swollen toenail and know it is worth the loss. I look forward to this racing season and representing Run Steep Get High Mountain Running Team. C-ya on the upward trail!

Many thanks to Aravaipa Running and volunteers for a great race! Thanks to my Mom for crew support and love!

Part III. A breakthrough - redefining myself as a runner with barefoot form.

Running was a challenge for me since high school. Intense track training my freshman year left me walking painfully from shin splints and eventually forced me to quit track. My first running defeat. I avoided running through the rest of high school. Through college I occasionally “tested” my legs but found I could not run more than a mile without intense shin pain the following days. I happily continued other athletic pursuits in competitive road and mountain biking and swimming through college. Then graduate school started. Short on money and time, I became determined to take up running again. I figured it would provide a short and cheap workout outlet, 2-3 times per week for ~20-30 minutes.

2007 Club 10k Nationals
My first big-time race with great friends!

On the sidelines at the 2002 Tucson marathon and cheering on some friends, I ran into an old family friend, who was an experienced runner and triathlete. While chatting Mr. Soro zoomed by – barefoot – for yet another Tucson marathon win. My friend remarked how that guy was for sure going to destroy his joints and knees running barefoot.

Perhaps not. We have been running for thousands of years. Running shoes have only been on the market for the last few decades. Perhaps it is the way we run which can be damaging – not the running itself.

2007 Pemberton 50K
My first ultra!

So – with the power of the internet I searched “barefoot running” and read up on the biomechanics of running barefoot. But, how to start? My feet were tender as a baby’s bottom. With advice from a few barefoot running websites I started running 1 day a week around a grassy park and 1 day a week around a track – barefoot. Running barefoot forced me to redevelop my form which I then focused on imitating when on the road. I slowly made the switch from heel striking to fore-foot running.

My runs quickly grew longer and more frequent with less pain from my shins. Within a few months I had gone from 10-20 miles per week to 30-50miles per week. I was hooked! Within the year my new gait was effortless and comfortable.

Now both mentally and physically I declared myself a runner and continued breaking former limits and enjoying my new found freedom to explore – running!

It is hard for me to believe I wasn't able to run more than a couple of miles until changing my form in my mid-20s. No special shoes, inserts, or medical aid needed. Now I can explore the mountains at will and challenge myself to 100 mile races!

Why I love running...it takes me to far and away places in the mountains.

Part II. Touring Vermont by Bike Instead of by Foot. Having fun with failure.

11 Nov 2011 –The pinnacle race for most ultrarunners is the 100 miler; like the marathon to the distance runner, and the 100 meters to the sprinter.  After completing several 50 mile races I felt ready to tackle the 100. I chose the July 2012 Vermont 100 – one of the oldest endurance running races in the country – to be my first 100 mile challenge. Frankly, I chose Vermont because it seemed less daunting than other western 100s (think mountains and altitude). Plus we could stack the trip by a summertime with my wife’s family in nearby New Hampshire.

19 June 2012 – Spring training and racing went surprisingly well. I had two first places in two 50 mile races! However, I failed to reign in my excitement and developed a running injury following the 2nd 50. I took time off and rested but it persisted. So I made the decision and finally cancelled my registration.

Disappointment consumed me. I failed. Or was I in some small way…actually relieved? Relieved as I still could not mentally fathom what it would take to complete 100 miles. I stewed.

Lisa with her wisdom suggested we bike tour through Vermont instead. It was a brilliant plan to keep me from stewing and re-focus my attention – especially while on vacation. She packed up her Bike Friday, a foldable travel size bike, and I borrowed a friend’s Bike Friday. We mapped out a 6 day tour through Vermont’s southern Green Mountains.

Bike touring is a bit like ultrarunning. You gain a sense of freedom to explore and feel alive each pedal stroke of the way. With a good map you can explore back roads at a casual pace, pull off and swim in a creek, devour local eats, and then go some more.

Local eats. And sample we did!

Vermont is a bike touring paradise. Lean-to shelters at state campgrounds with local swimming holes keep you well protected and refreshed. The lazily winding roads have idyllic restful spots scattered along. Locally made pickled beets and homemade pies can be found at about any country store.

30 July 2012 – On the 2nd to last night of our bike tour we found ourselves at a campsite near where the Vermont 100 race is held. As that dawned upon me I thought back to the quad burning hills we had climbed and whipped back down that same day on our bikes. I realized how painful these New England hills can be even though we were not in the Rocky Mountains or Arizona’s Sky Islands.

The bike tour showed me new freedoms and joys I had not experienced before. I let go of my disappointment and was grateful for our time together touring by bike.

…fast forward 10 months…

8 June 2013 – Plodding through the 18 mile aid station at the San Diego 100 I began questioning my decision to race. Why had I not let myself drop like the previous year for Vermont? I could be relaxing on the beach, body surfing in the waves … I consciously let up my pace as I considered the next 80 miles coming up. The sun blazed overhead as I picked my way along the Pacific Crest Trail. To keep the negativity at bay, I turned my thoughts towards my running form. An efficient less impactful form equals conservation of energy. This is what gets a runner through the long hours.

Up Next: Part III.  A breakthrough – redefining myself as a runner with barefoot form

One of many swimming holes
- on the sunny days.

Luxury lean-to shelters at
state campgrounds.

Even the bikes needed a rest
hauling up the Vermont hills.

The Hundred that Wasn’t Meant to Be. Overcoming Hurdles Part 1 of 5.

Pushing beyond your limits often takes you beyond your own mental capacity. Grit. Determination. A sprinkle of whining or crying. A heap of self-doubt. In the next five posts I will explore how I overcame mental and physical challenges to my running and how I ultimately succeeded even when I convinced myself I would not. Have you pushed beyond what you thought were your limits? At what point did you know you would succeed?

A surprise came my way yesterday. Reading through Jay Danek’s write-up of the 2013 Arizona Ultra Runner of the Year (UROY) I discovered I had won - “Best Performance by an Arizona Runner on Arizona Soil”. I am very appreciative for the award and am grateful for everyone who helped with that performance at Javelina Jundred including my family (also my crew), the Aravaipa crew, race volunteers, and friendly camaraderie among all the runners which helped fuel my run.

A glance back before continuing up.

Part I. San Diego 100 or bust!

I struggled with making a decision. The deadline for a partial refund of my registration drew near. I clung to the hope that tomorrow I would be able to run. Weeks without running had taking its toll on me mentally. I filled my running time with more hours at work or tackling long awaited yard projects. Forget cross training.

May 1, 2013 (5.5 weeks to race day) – I made the call to withdraw from the SanDiego 100 (SD100) and emailed Scott Mills the race director: 

“I am very sad to make the decision that I will be unable to race this year in the SD100. I did have an injury that has kept me from running for about 7 weeks and I am just now slowly getting back to it. I had hoped I would be able to have a faster recovery and ramp my mileage quickly back up to prepare….”

May 7 (4.5 weeks) – Wait, can I really drop out of my first hundred for a second time? I emailed Scott,

“I have done a number of 'testing' long runs to see how my legs feel after 8wks off. It is going much, much better than expected....is it too late to NOT cancel? I have not yet cashed your refund check. I am doing another set of long runs next weekend and hope that should put me a good place to go for it. I probably won't be as competitive as I had hoped but will just set my sites on finishing my 1st 100…”

May 15 (3.5 weeks) – 

Brief rest and dip mid-run in a cool desert pool.

“Hi Scott - The ‘test’ runs last Sunday/Monday went very well for me. I am looking forward to the SD100 although I probably will not be as competitive as I would have hoped....which may be a good attitude to take for my first 100.”

And, so began my determination to not give up but to start and complete the San Diego 100. It would be my first 100mile running race, with only 4 short training weeks plus a taper (a final training period to let the legs rest and be fresh for the race). I focused on visualizing myself training hard. I visualized myself during the race. I tried to visualize myself finishing – it was a little fuzzy but I could faintly make out the finish line.

My desire to run comes with an intense desire to experience freedom – to explore, to express joy and grace, and to dart along mountain trails – like an antelope. The lyrics of a Phish song encapsulate it for me, “Run like an antelope – out of control.” Running 100 miles I felt would express that sense of freedom. Now if I could only truly realize that sense of freedom.

My short training regime focused on long, low-intensity, back-to-back weekend runs with substantial rest during the week. I focused on time-on-my-feet not mileage. I built up from 3-4 hour runs to 6 hours sandwiched the day before and after with a 2hr and 3hr run. Each start of the week as my training aches and pains dully came into focus I turned prayerfully for support. I could only hope to just attempt my next set of training runs the following weekend. Each week I found myself elated that I met or exceeded my training goal yet fearful of not being able to make it through the next training set.

June 6 – Climbing out of the low desert we arrived in the Las Lagunas Mountains inland from San Diego two days prior to race day. We settled in at a campground spot nestled among oak and pine and enjoyed a late afternoon walk on a section of the course near the campground. The welcoming meadows and mountain air refreshed my spirit. The next day we (Lisa and I) previewed sections of the course. The shady pines and meadows gave way to chaparral scrub, rocks, and a hot sun.  A knot grew in my stomach in anticipation of what race day would bring. Temps were forecasted to be in the low 100s (°F) with over 18,000ft of climbing and rough trail sections interspersed. I was way under prepared!

But, I made it to this point and was determined to give it a go.

June 8 – The blast from the starting gun found my nervous legs comfortably behind the leaders including Jeff Browning and Dave Mackey. Here it goes!  Still trying to visualize the finish, I think back to how I got to this point, and I remember the many stumbling blocks that turned into stepping stones.

Coming soon…
Part II. Signing up for my first 100 - Vermont 100. Having fun with failure.

Part III. A breakthrough - redefining myself as a runner and my form. How I became a runner by deliberately redefining my form.

Part IV. Support systems when visualization fails. You are not alone!

Part V. The adventure is in the preparations. The highlight is getting to the start line.

Lessons learned from my first 2 hundreds

Early on into Javelina Jundred 2013

Fresh back from the Javelina Jundred and I am pondering my running goals and races for 2014. Perhaps it may be best to first take a moment to reflect before I move forward.

Completing my first two 100s this year was a significant accomplishment and steep learning curve for me. I had to overcome a series of training injuries as I learned how to run long. At San Diego 100 in June, my first 100, I realized the extreme challenges a 100 presents to runner and crew. A 6^th place finish was only possible due to the selfless assistance provided by my crew and volunteer pacers. I'll save the story for a future post. It did help step me towards a successful second 100 at Javelina Jundred in October, and a solid 2^nd place finish. 

Here are a few lessons I learned along the way that may be helpful to you.

1.  Listen to your stomach. No matter what you thought you could eat and when…if it is not working for you try something else. Just be sure the calories keep coming. I had stomach issues at San Diego 100 (SD100) and so continued to try other calorie intake methods through training and at Javelina Jundred (JJ100).  Still at JJ100 I was unsuccessfully trying to digest my diluted recovery mix. The idea of the recovery mix was to simultaneously stay hydrated and take in calories. It began to give me a sloshy and upset stomach. I gave up my experiment and switched to bananas, watermelon, and Gatorade. My stomach slowly recovered and allowed me to keep running.
2. Never underestimate the heat or the course. Heat is a killer. Just look at the dropout rates for both 100s. An easier course like JJ100 only becomes a faster course which then creates a challenge especially in the heat. Aid station volunteers at SD100 taught me the pleasure of ice under the hat and icy sponge baths.
3. Learn how to ignore minor pains. By mile 40 at SD100 my legs were blown and my spirit defeated. With great difficulty and much encouragement I plodded forward. By mile 10 at JJ100 I already felt a few pains that had been lingering through training. I began to doubt myself - especially holding a faster pace. I turned my attention instead to running efficiently and uplifting thoughts. By 40 miles they had disappeared and I regained my confidence. My legs still of course became dead but without lagging confidence.
4. Prep your crew for the low moments. Especially if your Mom is crewing for her first time! They worry less and focus on staying positive. I can't imagine how difficult it was for my wife to see me at my worst during SD100...and provide over 20 hours of encouragement.
5. Be efficient in all things. Don’t waste time or energy. It adds up quickly over 100 miles. When approaching an aid station focus on what you need and how you will get in and out quickly.
6. Eat and drink and make final adjustments leaving an aid station, not while standing there. Remember… relentless forward progress always.
7. Enjoy the scenery. It’s an adventure not a race!
8. Relish the camaraderie that comes with ultras.  Being new to the sport I am amazed with the selfless nature of those who make these events and finishes possible. My finish at SD100 was largely due thanks to two pacers, who I did not know prior to the race, helping me mentally tread the last 50 miles. 
9. With the right motivation there is always something left in the tank. I was completely cooked at both 100s, however, with 10 miles to go I found motivation to run a faster pace. Surprise yourself!
10. Training is the real adventure. The race is only a celebration of your training.  Preparation for my first 100 led me to stretch well beyond my comfort zone with regards to run lengths, terrain covered, and wilderness alone at night. I relished the sunset views from distant mountain peaks, refilling at springs, surprising bears, being blinded by the flash of a night-time wildlife camera, and ultimately defeating what I thought were my limits.

What have been your lessons learned?