Peacock 100K: From the Back of the Pack

Don called me a few days before Peacocks, excited by the upcoming race, more excited than I  that’s for sure.  I was dreading it.  Peacocks had come up on me far too fast, allowing very little training. I’d done Are’s twice, the Lower Loop twice and still didn’t have names for any of the subsections. I just didn’t know the course very well, didn’t think I could finish it, and was mentally only going out to do one loop because Gordon said it was OK if I did only one and then worked the aid station at Long Road.

The only hope was that Rex and I had done the first sections of the first loop and pronounced it ‘doable’.  Doable in that kind of iffy-maybe kind of way that we back-of-the-packers look at these endeavours.  Doable in the sense that if every thing goes just right then maybe, just maybe, we can finish the damn thing before they ring the bell that signals the clearing of the aid station tables, the removal of the chairs and water jugs from the finish line, and an empty field at the finish.  Doable, just doable, and no more.  But that was the outside chance, and I was not cashing any gold shares to bet on my finish.  

My knees have been hurting me on and off for a year now, and I had aggravated them again with some Peacock training and some bad shoe choices. A similar problem had haunted me last year so this year saw an early return to some stockpiled ‘old faithful’ shoes, and I manged to bring back my knees a bit.  But I still could not go down Long Road without a lot of pain and soreness. The fact was I could walk backwards down the damn thing faster than forwards.  The issue of knee pain is bothersome to say the least.  My time-bomb clock it ticking and I know it.  Peacocks is a miserable test of stupidity if you have leg issues.  So, ‘Doable’  is just sad theater, a kind of tragicomedy of an ultra-running sort for old guys with short running lives ahead of them.  And I was doing Peacocks?  It was theater of the absurd, and I knew it!  

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Ode to Peacocks

Trail Marking, Taper Run and Pot Luck.

Gordon has asked me to post a request for volunteers to mark the Peacock trail this Saturday Morning. We will be dividing up into groups and heading out of the Airport parking lot at 7:00 as usual. We will then meet up back at the airport at about 11:00 for a Pot Luck. All are invited to come and do a bit of trail marking, a light taper run, or more if you wish, and then we will do a Pau Hana to our Peacock training. You don't even need to go up the Kealia to show up for the Pau Hana.

Gordon needs some volunteers to do A. Upper Kealia and Are's Loop B. Gordon's and Lower loop. C. Cross Over to Rock Piles. D: The Kuaokala Makua Ridge from Balls to Stash.

Race Day Note: If you plan to enter the airport prior to 7:00AM you will be required to present current vehicle paper work. (Insurance, registration, inspection). Please check you paperwork prior to race day so you will not have be barred from coming in due to this preannounced idiocy.

Ode to Peacocks

The mountains have been climbed and re-climbed, the long stretches of twisting trails and fire roads have been memorized, the infinite ups and downs have been suffered and the culmination of another running cycle draws near.

Peacocks, which was so recently an audacious experiment, then born an ambitious 54+ miler, morphs into a full-blown madly-rugged 100+ K, and is now upon us! We've crammed in all the training possible and stand waiting, wondering what to do other than be out running hard along the northern ridges of the Waianae. One last chug up the hill perhaps? One last visit to the panoramic vistas we will have little time to appreciate on race day? Maybe, or are we just yielding to the unbreakable habit of over training?

It is always at this particular point in the cycle that each of us asks ourselves the questions, 'Am I truly prepared? Did I do enough? Will I even finish?' And we are forced to look back on our training efforts and draw some conclusion, post some grade, for better or worse, concerning our preparation in meeting the lofty goals we set for ourselves so many months back. Of course, with Peacocks the answer will always be an honest 'No...'. Even Gordon had doubts as he pushed hard on the last real week of training, and was full of questions about his ability as he headed up Kealia for the second time, hoping to get in a hard forty, one last push, making one final 'Gordon would Go' effort to be ready. Gordon has designed a course that is a nasty test of his own proven abilities; the ultimate statement of Peacocks' incredible challenge.

The inability to answer the readiness question in the affirmative, to always have honest doubts about doing well, or even to question one's ability to finish the race, is what makes Peacocks, a world class race and an instant Hawaiian classic. It fits so well into the tradition of the longer Trail Series races. It is the natural next step in the progression from Maunawili, and Triple Trek, the obvious follow-up to the naive question 'What's next?' It is where the real ultra runners appear, and where many have been born. Peacocks has become the Kukaniloko, the birthing stone, of Hawaiian ultra running. It is on the Kealia, the Kuaokala, Cross-Over, and Long Road that runners come to find their ultra souls, discover the enchantment of the long and the difficult, learn to transcend their own doubts, and proudly regard themselves as ultra runners.

A great race course should be stunningly beautiful, and Peacocks flies beyond this boundary. On almost any day it is hard not to stop repeatedly along the winding trail up Kealia and and stare out over the northern ocean broken by humpbacks at play, or look eastward down the white wave lined North Shore coast, or stare at the far reaching verdant valley of the Wahiawa Plain, the cloud shrouded Koolau blue in the distance. It is impossible to concentrate fully on any run when the color of the pacific enchants the eyes and fills the heart with joy, when one's spirit can so easily drift off and float like the gliders that rip by in the wind toward the far horizons. Then, deep in the high hidden valleys one is surrounded in cool verdant greenery and strides through a timeless natural world that brings peacefulness to the soul. Peacocks, our Po'okelanani.

Beauty is the yin, while hardship the yang of a great race. Peacocks mocks any theoretical level of 'necessary ultra difficulty' offering rockbound hardship guaranteed to inflict deep and permanent emotional and physical scars on any ultra runner attempting the course regardless of training or ability.

Most will agree that a great ultra race should have more than one outstanding physical moment, it must offer a pantheon of harshness where the mind is pulled from its fragile hold on reality and thrown to the wind. For Peacocks such moments are highlighted by the extraordinary; the long unending climbs up the switchbacks and red clay roads of Kealia; Kuaokala with its long draining climb up the western ridge lines that begins deep in the bowels of the dark valleys and ratchets ever higher toward the ridge line summit overlooking Makua; the eternal hard hot and dry trek through the endless valleys of the cross-over; the devastating Long Road repeats and their infinite array of terrible turns and awesome vistas; and the winding harshness of Are's Loop with its deceptive closeness to shore, and then its almost vertical upward conclusion. The list could be refined and expanded but the point is made: Peacocks takes your breath away and leaves you in agony time and time again.

Any truly honest attempt at Peacocks challenges the soul, tears up the heart, and can leave the strongest of runners unsteadily wandering the road jibbering incoherently. Peacocks repeatedly releases runners to the lowland shore, only to sadistically claw at their reserves and force them back into the high hills and valleys where it devours goals and exposes illusions. Peacocks ambushes runners from the trail-side undergrowth, slashing at resolution and eviscerating self assuredness with the stone knife of Kukukinimamaunui, the god of ultra running, offering up many a runner as sacrifice to the god. Peacocks can leave the strong and confident crying for their mama's arms, or begging to dance with any devil who promises release from the mountain. Peacocks is the rogue black panther of trail races that can attack you and drag your soul into some tree high on the Makua ridge, there to feast on it for an eon or two.

Long after the race is complete, Peacocks can steal into your night dreams, gnawing at your insides, mocking you for your gutless failures during the race, and unwinding nightmarish memories of dark moments when you saw through the shoddy facade of your life into the terrible truth of your miserable existence and despaired all. You will awake, heart pounding, sweating and drained, still fearful that your failures have doomed you to treading high tails endlessly among the Marchers of the Night.

Very few Hundred Mile Runs can lay claim to such an impressive list of physical challenges, and very few groups other than HURT would seriously consider this a doable 100+K race course. Perhaps it is just our great fortune for extraordinary geography and beauty here on Oahu, but I believe it essentially arises out of the soul of the mountains of Waialua. The Hawaiian warrior spirit still dwells high in the hills and fills the minds and bodies of all who run this course. It fires our competitiveness and ultimately entices us all to meet the seemingly impossible challenges of the race. Our blood surges and the anticipated glory of Hawaiian victory bursts within and we are one with the glorious past. In another moment the aura of the fabled gateway to Milu, the dark afterlife of Hawaiian mythology, which lies deep in high Waialua, slips up on us in the shadowed reaches of the high back valleys. The despair of the dead as they wend unending on their eternal forced march round the dark fires of purgatory, seeps into the souls of all who traverse these mountains: There are times we run Peacocks not to meet a challenge, but because we have simply come to know nothing else. We suffer the run, because on Peacocks we have come to know only running to suffering.

The sun rises glorious on the Waialua mountains and sets mysteriously far beyond them. The heat of the sun and the power of the warriors' challenge, the dark loneliness of the moonless night and the desperate weariness of the doubtful survivor, lies before us. In one instant we run hard and victorious with Hawaiian knights gloriously meeting all challenges, in the next we push painfully and wearily on alone, fleeing the shuffling dead and their insistent whispers to join them. In either moment the experience of Peacocks is a reflection of the magnificent spirit of these mystical mountain ridges and valleys. We, the living, simply give life to past energies and a reflection on the meaning and power of our beloved island world

The fact is that you can flee to an isolated cave in the distant hills and meditate for years on the your place in this existence, or you can actually commit to suffering through your best effort at Peacocks; in either case you will find humility and walk away with a greater understanding of the meaning of the next of life's breaths. It is said the way to heaven leads through the center of hell. If true, then Peacocks is the Ultra runners trail to transcendence.

Peacocks. An Hawaii race. And until mush brained clowns ruin it, Our race.

In Praise of Youth

Note:  I've been letting this site drag a bit.  I have never been good at journals, though I have been writing.  I'll try and post most of the stuff here, if only so that I can see it all collected in one place.

This is a piece that I did for the weekly HURT training post.

In Praise of Youth

I slogged the western hills this past week-end for the first time in weeks. Injury has had a hold on me, and I have been plagued by aches and pains and was reluctant to go out because there is nowhere on this island where a runner can meet with weakness more directly than on the edgy cliffs and slopes of the northern Waianae range. Unfortunately for us all, Gordon has developed a penchant for the edge, and much of his selected route for the up coming 100K is steeply up, or, for me at least, ever more steeply down.

I found myself running with old friends; Bob McAlester and Rex Vlcek, and it struck me somewhere along the cross-over while pushing to keep up, that I was the newbie. Both Bob and Rex have been around HURT for very long times, and have scores of races and unnumbered volunteer venues to their credit. I've been running with, against, and with the assistance of each of them for as long as I have been on HURT trails.

When running with old buddies it is not uncommon that the chatter will dwell for a time on injuries, healing, rehab, and hopes for the future. We have all been injured, missed months of training, and come back after hard fought mending of our bodies. It's a constant effort. This Ultra stuff is physically demanding and takes a toll on older bodies, but the hard fact is that the mental toughness so necessary for ultra running is not something that is learned well among the younger crowd. Ultra running poses the conundrum of benefiting from age's mental toughness, while punishing age's physical weaknesses; a destructive and somewhat masochistic brew.

Proof of such is easily verified, for if you have been an ultra runner for any length of time you can count at least a few faces that are no longer with you when you hit the trails. And as you get farther along you are bound to miss a few good friends. Of course, some, Rex, Bob, and I among them, have been fortunate to reappear on the trails and push on for a while longer. But there are those who never come back out, or who never seem to make it back onto the trails for any length of time, and who fade from the pantheon of Regulars.

Runners often rue these departures with 'group-hug' levels of sadness, and though individually one may honestly rue the loss of a good running buddy, on the group emotional level the feelings often seem a bit more coarse, and often have a perverse attitudinal inflection that attributes someone's lasting injury to weakness, or worse, failure of will. Perhaps it makes it easier on the tribal mind if fallen breatheren leave us through the subtle accusation of a lack of determination to strive, rather than the more truthful facts of their physical breakdown.

The deception not only allows surviving runners to avoid the truth of injury but also permits survivors to assume the unmerited mantle of toughness, while at the same time humbly laying claim to having more of 'what it takes', all the while avoiding the cruel fact that little more than fortune and blind luck are the primary factors deciding runner's futures. Such myth is a product of the cultural organism and is fabricated to promote its survival as it comes to understand that truth, the antitheses of myth, is no friend of cultural existence. We communally delude ourselves because it is the only way we can continue to rationalize our own self destructiveness.

The weakness that causes us to demonize injury and mythologize simple luck, also runs amok in our attitudes toward aging. The mantra is that we are as perpetually young as we choose to be, that we reach our goals through good training and mental strength, and that given enough training and will power we will continue to be high achievers far out toward the event horizon. Good training is the salve that cures all ills. If one falters, applying more good training will mend the problem.

The fact that we are all navigating sinking ships is rarely honestly addressed. Instead we aggrandize the most foolish or physically adept, or both, and heap praises on those who possesses the most fleeting of qualities; speed. True, on any given day, speed is the easiest identifier of success. But a static measure makes little sense from the point of view of the individual human body since speed is destined to decline quickly over time. None-the-less as a group we are fixated on time, on bettering our own times, and on always using time as the intrinsic marker of success. Unfortunately time has a back side, and all of us are constantly facing that too, as blind to it as we may choose to be. In our unwillingness or inability to face one problem, declining times caused by aging, we create another problem, severe injury caused by the self deluded belief that we are just as fast and capable as we once were. We are not, and failure to realize you are getting older will ultimately ruin your running day.

As you may have guessed by this point, I have little to say in praise of youth. Quite frankly I'm ambivalent with regard to those who may lay claim to experiencing that period in their present lives. I neither praise nor disparage them. But the idea that older men and women can reclaim or hold on to youth is an absurdity that is, in my opinion, very destructive. That it is an entrenched aspect of our running culture makes it even more so.

So the next time you hit a section that you used to romp up or down, take heed. Things have changed since the last time you ventured out and it may pay to listen to your body just a bit more and a little less to the joyful 'I am always young!' voice of your soul. The truth is that your soul is a self deluding butterfly, while your body is fixed in the reality of this world; the very place where the trails run toward the horizon. If you wish that story book run into the sunset then you best listen to what will get you there.

Run Long, Run Hard, but not necessarily fast........ Aloha, Mikem ;)

Hey!! Even the NY Times confirms my training plan.

Sometimes you do things because you believe they are right.  You don't just start out doing them, it takes years sometimes to get 'in the groove',  and then you find yourself doing things in a certain way.  If you read over the last few weeks of my training routines you will see that I have been concentrating on repeats, and the mental and physical routines one must establish to improve.  So I would like to present to you this rather primitive and basic approach to training as found in the New York Times. Article
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Cheryl Shows No Mercy

I'd had this run with Cheryl scheduled, and postponed for a week. So I was going out on Tuesday despite the Monday run. My hanai nephew David was in town and needed to hit the trails two so I figured it would be a good time to take him out too.

Well, I wanted to run Hogsback, figuring I'd stay with Cheryl the rest of the way. So, I split fast after crossing the Nature Center bridge, and left Cheryl tying her shoe....ultra runners show no mercy. I pushed up Hogsback, breathing hard, feeling yesterdays 20 and trying to make something of the attempt. David was lingering behind me and I knew he was just waiting to pounce. Young Punks, you can always tell what they are up to. The trick it to wear 'em out or out fox 'em. 15+ minutes up Hogsback makes either a bit of a challenge with somebody who has done HURT loops, Ultra wierdness, and organized mayhem. But I was into trying to leave David sucking air. I tried all the standard tricks, running where nobody should run, striding up the steepest steeps, skipping over the roots, and even reverse psychology like breathing hard and gagging when it wasn't necessary. I couldn't shake him. Finally, after waiting to the last fifty yards, I just started sprinting. The Punk was just too aware, and he passed me five yards from the top. Hey, he's my nephew, so I didn't kick his ass for the insult. 'Goo Jaw Brahhh' I gasped at the top, meaning every word. My onlysatisfaction is that it was a 17 and much slower than yesterdays 15.
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Run 'Round Oahu

I ran around Oahu on April 16,17, and 18th. A hard fought 44 hour, 42 minute venture over 135 odd miles. The accompanying link provides a rather extended report. Report

Pictures of the run can be viewed at pictures. pictures

Peacocks

I look around me and find that many of the people I was running with just a few years ago are no longer out there on a regular basis. It happens so slowly it is almost unremarkable. An injury, a health problem, the demands of family life, or simply the desire to move on to some other form of exercise. But the facts are clear. People don't last a long time as Ultra Runners. It takes too much time, to great a commitment, to much pain, and, yes, too much suffering. In the end life takes its toll and we lose our running friends, or we fall by the wayside ourselves.

Injuries seem to be the greatest problem. Thigh and hip problems seem to be the most devastating. Cheryl's fight against that is by far the most admirable attempt to keep moving that I have seen. That she is still out there on the trails is amazing. Then there are all the people with foot injuries, and ankle problems. Many of these could have been avoided by better training, or more attention to gear, but for the most part they just happened to seasoned runners. Many were avoidable, like my present knee problems, the result of becoming too involved in a particular race and trying to gain a few extra minutes at the cost of some strained tendons. If you are going to be out there on a regular basis it does not pay to be as fast as you think you can be. It doesn't pay to have too much hustle. Better to just putz along far behind where you think you could be and do the distance, no matter what the time.

It's a young season and we start it with some ridiculously short fast runs. I learned my lesson many seasons ago, and if I run I go slow for many miles, or get out there early and do an extra loop just to warm up. These sprints can tear you up. Look around and listen to the chatter that will develop in the veteran ultra runners, there will be all kinds of minor injuries in the next few months when long distance legs are forced to do short distance fast runs. But I show my age I guess. My knees and hips hate this part of the Trail Series, and I'll likely be standing out somewhere telling people where to go, or misdirecting my friends, or just playing 'table guy', until the races move over 20 miles.

Don't know what this has to do with Peacocks, except it is the race of the season and I am out there already moving slowly up those steeps, packing an extra twenty pounds that I collected during the break after the HURT. It will take me many months to drop back down, to be able to actually walk fast down the hills, to get back my endless legs. Problem is I don't have many months before I am off on some long expeditions. But they are not Peacocks, and even at less than 60, it is the one that waits silently out there in the distance.

........got to Peacocks late Saturday morning, waited for Don, who it tourned out is injured, went up on my own, ran into Rex, Jan, and Julie, and did a fast shuffle out to the Rock Pile and back (12m). Not as far as last week, but I had lots of reasons not to be out there and went up anyway. This time of year, well, that is better than rolling over and sleeping that extra three hours.

HURT 2010 Personal Stats

HURT 100

Statistics for Mike M.

...................N-P..P-J...J-N.......Total
Loop 1 2:03 1:38 2:21 6:02
Loop 2 2:39 1:30 2:22 6:31
Loop 3 2:35 1:59 2:23 6:57
Loop 4 3:21 2:05 2:30 7:56
Loop 5 2:47 1:53 2:16 6:56


Averages 2:41 1:49 2:22 6:52 34:22

(The formatting is difficult and I have given up.)

Well there is the raw data. Looking at it I have the following comments. If you keep in mind that the aid station stops are included in the NEXT loop then it obvious that my stops are difficult. Secondly the Nature Center is the worst.

I think what I need is one bag with just the essentials. Electrolytes, Muscle Milk, Lube, Lights. I started getting the staff to do my water, but even that can be a hassle if they don't know what they are doing.

I have to admit that I am often confused when coming in, but unlike a raw stash the aid stations are filled with very well meaning people who won't stop asking you stupid questions. I forgot to lube up at least twice, and that after I was busy trying to answer somebody's questions and forgot my emergency jar I always carry.

I am not complaining. I think the trick is to get the routine down better so I can get in and get out. I could have saved an hour of total race time with easy five minute short cuts in the aid station.

The short comings aside I believe I did much better than I ever expected to do. My new routines such as Muscle Milk on the heights, Blocks, low sugar, ice water, all seemed to aid me in maintaining my mental and physical acuity much longer than I have done in the past. Another factor was the Beano which I took to avoid gastric problems. It worked. I have run too many races with a gut full of gas and pain, or forced off the trail. There is an hour right there.

Of course having been out on those trails for 60 hours in much worse conditions just gives me a much better understanding of the problems I have to deal with while out on the trail.

The training, Many hundreds of miles of long slow jogging and walking, followed by faster 20 mile pacing loops, followed by even faster sectional pacing loops, gave me an understanding of the trail and the tasks I had to accomplish. Going up the first hill was often either a red flag or a caution just because I knew where I had to be at that moment to get where I wanted to go at the required time. If you know the terrain you can push the flats and light slopes and gain time if necessary.

100 mile running is a moving meditation. You need to be aware of every moment. Lose that awareness and you will either slow down, fall, or go too fast and injure yourself. You must always be in the moment. It is as hard as a long vippassana sit. The best thing you can do is put your head down and work on making the next step the best one you have ever taken. Don't look up at the heights, or whine, just head down and take your best step.

As I have said in the previous post, the weather was stunning. Dry, cool, and sunny. There was almost no mud on the trails. A few of the seeps were moist, but everything else was hard ground. I went down a few times, once quite hard, but it was inattention, not a slip.

I ended up with some knee soreness, I won't call it pain. I have blisters on my feet and some raw spots on my ankles from an old pair of socks that seemed to have shrunk a bit. I have some blisters, but nothing I wouldn't expect after the last loop where I ran too fast too far. On the trails I kept it together. I didn't bonk, didn't tighten-up, didn't hallucinate much, kept my electrolytes under control and maintained.

The journey for these races is in the preparation. I will remember this year for all the Runs that Rex, I, and a lot of good friends did over the past months. Getting out into the hills above Honolulu is always a treat, but to be able to visit many wonder places again and again was a wonderful gift from the spirits of the trails.

Like Rex said. It is just a foot race. I agree completely. But I also feel a good deal of satisfaction about the time, and the fact that I kicked some ass on the last loop. No body else over sixty finished the race, though Gary Marr at 58 tore up the course and came in almost an hour in front of me.

The End of HURT Training is on the Horiizon

At the 'Bench' on the Grassy Knoll above Nu'uanu.

I've been training so much I've been too tired to care about posting to a blog that very few people read, even if it is my diary of the trails. As you can see on the running log to the right of the text I have been out on the trails a few times a week for the last few months. After the 60 hour birthday run Rex and I have done a 60 miler, a 12 hours of Hogsback, another 60 miler, and numerous 20 milers for speed, mixed in with some shorter 10 to 15 miles runs for speed and timing. It has been a long hard process. A process that basically comes to an end about a week from now and a few days before the HURT 100.

Rex, Jan, and Ernst on Last 20 of Training Season at Paradise Stash

Today's run was not for speed, we are both kind of beat up and it seemed to make no sense in pushing too hard. But even with our relaxed pace we were putting down times that are very good and well within the realm of the times we want to be clocking during the HURT. We managed to make it to the three-way at Pauoa Flats in under 60, the bench in about 75, and then did an down and out of Nu'uanu in under 90 minutes. Even in its disjointed order the times speak of a 6:30 or so. Its about what we want to be doing, and if we can do it at a hard pace, rather than a run, then we have achieved our goals. (The opportunity to run, or need to, if the case may be, is there but it takes about 40 percent greater effort and produces only minutes of time savings on each section. Yes it adds up, but the toll on the body is just too great. Better to be smart and go slower at a good hard race walk.

People thought I was nuts when I decided to do the 60 hours of HURT for my birthday run, and Don got down right nasty with me when I decided to do another 60 two weeks later. By the time we did the Hogsback 12 hour night run he had quieted down, and after the last sixty he just gave me a pat on the back and told me I was a lot more crazy and capable than he had thought. Of course the proof will be in the 100 miles we run on the 16 and 17 of January.

The trails are in great shape, so I am expecting a hell of a storm in the week before the run. That's OK, I did three nights of rain on the 60 hour run. It was as cold and wet as I have seen up there on the ridges. It didn't stop us then and I don't see it making much of a difference if it does. Times will suffer of course, but that's just the was it is.

I wish everyone a Happy New Year. Get out and run a bit, or at least walk.

Peacock 54

The Peacock 54 was held on October 24,2009. The weather was very good, a bit hot and humid, but to my liking. There were 40 starters, less than 20 finishers. I was satisfied with my 15th place finish.

I had hoped to do two eight hour loops, but I was hit with some bonking on the way up the Kealia the second time (a 2200 foot climb in under four miles.) and then again on Gordon's loop, the jeep road and single track loop in hours two and three of the loop. I walked almost the entire distance, and still managed to maintain a good pace.

I ran the first loop with Don, Dr. Bill, and Rex. We pretty much stayed together to the bottom of long road, about 16 miles in. The guys had left me behind on the long steep hill of Long Road and I had to hussle a bit to catch them by the aid station. I granted no mercy on the way back up Long Road and pretty much left them all in the dust until the long down of the Kealia, when Dr. Bill and Rex caught up with me again. I lost some time on the cross-over when I ran into Ryan and Brenda. Ryan was in a bad way and I spent some time trying to get some fluids into him and talking to him a bit. We were less than 20 minutes out from the Truck, and I finally left them as it appeared he was capable of making it, and there were three others behind me, if something went wrong. I lost ten minutes there.

Dr. Bill dropped at 27, and I chased Rex out of the aid station at (8:30) Don was just coming in as we started toward the trail head. He was done at 27 but doing a relay with Cheryl, who as being paced by Fish. We were all together just beyond the trailhead and then it got hard.

Coming up on the second loop is always hard for me. Kealia is a bitch and the first section of switchbacks just overpowers me for some reason. I kept ahead of Cheryl and Fish for a while but had to pull to the side and let them by. I took the opportunity to down some energy drink and hoped it would kick in. Rex was having even more trouble, and finally dropped. He had a very hard time on Long Road and then fast paced it across and down. It showed up very quickly on the Kealia. I pushed on alone, knowing it would be hard to catch Fish and Cheryl. I saw them across the valley on the early part of the single track when I was still 15 minutes out.

I had problems on the single track. Nutrition basically. I had been taking my energy drink but had not done enough carbs and protiens. It hit me hard and found myself bent over at the top of the ups, my heart racing and close to gasping. It worked itself out, but it was brutal for a while. I found myself telling myself that if I was going to die to just do it cause it didn't matter much at that point. I took a few moments at the top of one of the ups and downed the protein shake I was carrying. It took a bit to take effect but nutrition was what I needed and I finished off the single track feeling better.

I swigged a few cups of an iced gator aid water cocktail at the Rob's truck and pushed on down the cross over. I felt better and made the trip in the hour that I allot for the west to east run. But I was running late and had to run jog Long Road on any of the more level points I could find, making it to the aid station with 15 minutes to spare before the cutoff of 8:00 PM. (14:00) hours in.

The push back was very hard, and at one point I had to regroup and just look down at the small circle my headlamp made on the road and take one good step at a time. I made it to the top of Long Road in 67 minutes which is not too bad, and was moving well on the cross over. I didn't see any light ahead of me, but knew the girls were just ahead of me, with Cheryl leading them. I was feeling good and pushed hard and steady catching the first group just before Robs truck. I slipped past them, watered, and was on my way before they all really knew what was happening. I pushed hard down the Kealia, jogging a bit on the less steep downs, making it to the finish line at 17:15, by my watch.

One hard race.

The days go bye

Date Description Miles
9/5 Triple Treck (30 Miles) 30
9/6 NIght Run, Manoa/Nature Center Return with Devon (14) 14
9/9 Hard Hot Highway(solo)+ Makapu'u Ups with Don (8+8) 16
9/10 Maunawili with Pete (8)
9/11-9/15 Crash
9/16 Hard Hot Highway (solo)+Makapu'u Repeats with Don (10+10) 20
9/18 Maunawili with Pete (10) 10
9/19 Peacock (12) with gang (hauled 2 gals. water to top.) 12
9/21 Maunawili (12) 12
9/23 Hard Hot Highway (25)(solo)+Maunawili(solo/with Pete)11 36

Just got back from 9/23 which was long, hard, hot, and wearing. Ran roads plus a Makapu'u up to far side of Waimanalo, back to trail head, and then the Waimanalo/Nuuanu up. Met Pete at the Falls trail. By then I was out of water, and tired.

Night Run

Devon called me Sunday morning to ask me about the Triple Trek and tell me he was going to do a night run. We talked about it and decided to try at least a Manoa-Nature Center-return and maybe more depending on how we felt. I have not done much night running, with the exception of those few evening runs that ran late so it seemed a good chance to get back into it. We agreed to meet at Manoa around 8:00pm.

It had rained on and off most of Sunday in the valley so I was expecting some mushy conditions. It was slippery along the Falss trail but the mud level was not bad and we made the falls fairly quickly. My calf was tight and I had told Devon I would be walking most of it. That seemed to agree with him. The Ahuilama up the back of Manoa Valley was its usual succession of mud pits. And after the initial dancing around the least of them we were forced to get good and muddy at that long deep trench in the midst of the bamboo. It began to rain heavy as we made our way up the trail and before we hit the Switchbacks we were soaked.

Ahuilama is not in great shape. It need to be worked on badly, but all in all it was passable and better than I had expected. The trenches are deeper and there seem to be more rocks littering the trail--all evidence of bad water management--but the biggest fallen trees were cut and we made good progress up to the concrete posts and slide. The last set of switchbacks were good, though the area around elbows is pretty steep and needs to be graded again.

The ginger was in full bloom and the night air was filled with the sweet aroma of white and yellow gingers. Some of the last of the night Jasmine was also in bloom and it added to the heavy fragrence of the evening. We made it to the Pie Stand at the top in about 55, and pushed on. Niether of us were up for a full HURT loop when we hit the cut-off for Nu'uanu and we agreed to head toward the Nature Center via Manoa Cliffs. Near the top of the cut-off we ran into another fragrance that just about put us to sleep. The Kahili ginger was in bloom along that little pocket of wetness near the top. I have never been out at night when it as in bloom. Sweeter than Olena. Amazing. Devon and I hovered around the blossoms like bees after honey. ( I was happy to find my nose is coming back a bit. I could not get a full close up sniff of the flower to register much, but the ambient smell a few feet back came to me pretty strong. I guess all the time on the trails is having a positive effect on my nose.)

We briefly hit rain along Manoa Cliffs, and then things calmed down. The moon couldn't break through much but the trail is good and I have done the reverse direction enought times recently that it was not problem. I was a bit surprised by the climb up into the straberry quava though. How easy it is to forget the ups when all you have been doing is the downs. The drop down Moleka, the cross-over and the Center trail all went well. We hit the Nature Center around 2:20.

We turned around and headed out just abut 2:30. Hogsback was a bitch. I was a bit tight from the rest and found the climb hard. But we pushed on and by the time we got up Roots and Rocks I was feeling better. The downlines often worked on the up and we hit the bench at the top in 24 something. No great shakes but a respectible time none the less. The climb up Mangos and Nahuina was hard but good and we hit the road around 1:05. Again, a decent under 7:00 HURT pace. The backside of Kalawahine was filled with ginger and it was intoxicating. We reached the Mapcase in about 1:40 or so. I'm not sure why we slowed. That area coming up the Cliffs trail switchbacks is pretty overgrown, so it was a bit slow going.

Devon wanted to get a picture of the Kahili, so we took a little time going down the cut-off to find a good bloom. Then it was a good push to the flats and toward the Pie Stand. Devnon and I have both been up on top during bad rains storms and we spent some time comparing our 'how much water' stories. The entire Flats can go under water and it doesn't pay to try and get down the trails on anyside if its been raining hard. I've seen the Cliffs trail flooded and running with waterfalls, I was down the Nu'uanu section with Judy last year and it was hair raising at times. Both of us have seen the Ahuilama in full rush. Given a choice we agreed that though the experiences were great they were not something either of us would knowingly repeat.

The going down the back of Manoa was slippery and slow at times. We slowed a bit and didn't get out until the clock had ticked by 3:00 hours I believe. I was a bit disapointed with the time on the return. I usually look at a 2:30 as the goal. A three is more of a 7:00+ pace. But it was slippery in the back of Manoa, and neither of us were up for a fast pace down the falls trails. All in all it was a good night run.

A Tough Triple Trek

I probably didn't prepare quite properly--a quart+ of Rocky Road Ice cream and a few beers, a far out carbo loading I quess--and I knew I had a problem with my right calf, but I didn't expect it all to go south on me less than 40 minutes into the race. But on my way up Moleka, after hitting 30 something at the bottom, I felt my calf tighten and knew it was not going to be a great run. I slowed and watched a lot of people go by, and just paced out the tight calf. It went on this way to the top of of Manoa Cliffs, and then down the switchbacks on the opposite side, and along Kalawahine.

Earnest caught me back on Kalawahine, his ankle was bothering him, but he was doing better than me. I followed him for a while, then lost him, caught him again at the aid station and then he moved ahead of me once again. The time was not that bad really. I was still doing a sub 2:15 pace but I needed a 1:45 on the first lap to break 6:00. My emotions ran from rage to despair, but never to humor. I caught up with somebody at the bench at the top of Hogback and found I could handle the down fairly well. Anyway I knew the line and he didn't. I just pushed on making the bottom turnaround by 2:06.

Ernest and I headed out of the aid station together, but I was feeling good and I pushed ahead, finally leaving the other guy from the drop down Hogsback behind and feeling good. Made the Big Bend by 16:30, the top of Smokeys under 22, and pushed past the bench under 30. All the times were good, but at best I was going to be breaking even perhaps. I pushed on up Moleka and across the road, making the strawberry guava patch at the top under 45. I buzzed the Cliffs, hitting the mapcase in just over 60. The back side and Kalawahine were fast, and I pushed my calf a bit hard as it loosened. I could hear Carol Bugarian and a friend up ahead of me every once in a while and managed to catch them down near the bottom of Bunyons where the small seep is. Then by Knee Knockers and the Seeps as quick as I could go. Carols friend was at my heels and I had to push down the last bit of Nahuina and onto Mangos. I lost concentration and she was behind my by the top of Hogsback and I had to run down to stay ahead. It wasn't smart but I just didn't want to be passed. I hit the aid station with a negative split doing perhaps a 1:58 or so. It was a good lap and it made the race.

The last lap was slow. I tried to chase Clem up the Center Trail and lost him before we hit the top. I made the bench around 35. My watch had reset itself and I was just guessing on times. My calf tightened a bit and before I hit the top of Manoa Cliffs I had pretty well given up. I limped into the finish with a 6:36. Sometimes you just take what you can get and move on.

I stayed around and talked and ate for about an hour as the rest of the racers came in, then helped pack up and finally made it home and to back to bed by 2:00 pm.

New Shoes: First Look Adidas J S5 M

I received a few pairs of shoes in today. Running season is about to kick off and there is nothing like running an old pair of trail shoes to ruin the feet and legs. I've still got a few miles in my present Adidas Supernova Trails, and I have an Asics pair that I use for hard or dry conditions right now, but I got a bit yancy and went looking for bargains on the web.

I found a pair of Adidas J S5 M trail shoes. This appears to be one of their models that they sell primarily outside the US. Its not listed on the US site. Much like the pair of Hellbenders I purchased a year ago. I got a good deal on a pair of 14s and decided to go for it. I'm having a problem springing for the new Riot, the Supernova Trail replacement, which is in the 80-90 dollar range on web discount sites.

Adidas J S5 M

The J S5 M's are an Orange shoe, or Pumpkin, or some kind of Safety Color. For a multi-view look try http://www.tajakoo.com/adidas/adidas78607.htm (Officially Gold, Dark Gray and Slate) They look neat, but how well they will do on the trails is another question. The toe box is fairly roomy for an Adidas shoe. However the shoe pocket is raised to the main body of the shoe with space underneath the pocket to provide cushioning. There is a pretty heavy plastic outer wrap to keep the foot firm inside the pocket, and Adidas is fairly good at engineering a stable foot.

The toe is the same type as the Response Trail and some of the old Supernova Trails. A small tongue comes off the soul and there is a thin layer of outer soft plastic around the toes. I will shoe goo to whole front end before I wear them. This will provide the impact resistance I need on Hawaii trails. I do this regularly with Adidas, and have saved a number of toes and toe nails. It doesn't look particularly elegant but when you are doing a Ultra elegant is something that keeps you going. One of these days Adidas will listen to the real runners and offer toe protection on par with the Solomon or Montrail.

I'm a bit concerned with the channels along the sole of the shoe. these pass through from side to side, so water and runny mud shouldn't be a problem, but constant exposure to wet terrain or small gravel may lead to debris getting lodged under the toe box.

Finally the heel of the shoe is harder than the Supernova. But there is some good traction on the bottom sole so time will tell.

The Official Ultralist RTS Race Report

The 36.2 mile Run to the Sun began at 4:30 AM this last Saturday, March 14th 2009, at the House of Pancakes sign at Maui Mall in Kahulu’i Maui, Hawaii. Conditions were beautiful and occasionally runners waiting at the start caught a view of the finish line at 10000 feet high atop the distant Haleakela volcano. John Salmonson, the god-father of Hawaii Ultra Running, started the race and soon after racers received a considerable Hawaiian blessing—a heavy downpour of rain and gusting of wind.

In less than an hour the southwestern winds moderated, the skies became scattered clouds and the near full moon cast a silvery glow across the cane fields and lowlands of the Maui saddle. It seemed an enchanting day to be running across the island that many call pair-o-dice. But the spirits of the land seemed unsettled, and even those in the lead could feel the turbulence that hung low in the air to the southwest.

If you have run the RTS before, or visited Maui you may be familiar with how the showers brought in by the northeastern trades sweep along the northeastern slopes of the volcano, finally being held up by a northwestern ridge of cinder cones and high flows. It usually allows runners to skirt the edges of the squalls and seek protection against the less exposed western face of the mountain higher up the slopes. With a reversal of this weather pattern the lower levels were more protected, but the higher one climbed the colder and more exposed to winds runners became. Above the 4000 foot level conditions quickly deteriorated as fogs, mists, and gusts brushed hard across the mountain. The temperature dropped quickly from the seventies, down through the sixties and fifties.

Rains dampened the runners and winds sucked up body heat. The switchbacks through the pasture land from 4500 to 7000 feet, were intermittently reminiscent of those golden moments of past races, but all to often runners were held up on hairpin turns by high gusting winds heavy with sharp biting rains. Those with heavier gear in drop bags at the Park visitor center were smart if they put on all they had brought along, because above 7000 feet the mists grew thick, the winds howled, and rain pelted hard and stinging on exposed skin surfaces. As the lead runners broached 8000 feet the winds gusted near 50, temperatures dropped below 30 and freezing rain iced the roads and coated the landscape.

Discussions between Park Rangers, race coordinators, and emergency personal led to the moving of the finish to a secondary location at 9200 feet and approx 33 miles, which was below the most difficult of conditions. All the emergency alternative preparations began to pay off and though disappointed, cold and near hypothermic runners were sheltered in the back of a truck to warm up before being shuttled to their rides, or back down the mountain. Cold, wet, shivering, and very tired runners were warmed with hot soup, or hot chocolate, layered in blankets, and watched over by cautious and concerned volunteers. What could have been a very difficult situation for all was extremely well handled by a very prepared and dedicated coordination of volunteers, Park staff, and Maui Emergency Personnel.

Most runners felt a certain wistful regret at not having made it to the top this year. But there were very few complaints from those warming up in the trucks and vans; and a trip to the top where the ice hung heavy in storm force winds was enough to cure all but the few who combine ultra-running with abject stupidity, of their irrational desire to continue beyond the official stopping point. As one local runner explained, there are ample methods of killing yourself in the islands. You can always come back tomorrow Brah, freeze your ass off, get lost, and die and there won’t be anybody to stop you. It was a gentle reminder that almost every island in the group has recorded a score or so of runners and hikers who have disregarded local cautions and simple common sense and gone out and become forever lost.

The top finishers are posted below with complete list at
http://hurthawaii.blogs.com/RTS%202009%20Results.pdf

1 Meissner Sean Or 35 M 5:30:47 1
2 Miyachi Fujio Japan 30 M 5:34:02 2
3 Armstrong Jaime CAN 32 M 5:39:02 3
4 Glaus Eric Hi 47 M 6:01:50 1/40
5 Hart Ellen Co 50 F 6:08:50 1
6 Schramm Erica Nv 30 F 6:10:06 2
7 Cutting Shannon Hi 44 F 6:20:31 3
8 Schramm Mike Nv 40 M 6:36:20 2/40
9 Denniss Tom AUS 48 M 6:42:35 3/40
10 Edwards John BC 63 M 6:44:38 1/60
11 Eklof Klas CA 38 M 6:47:49 1/30

Rocky Raccoon

The ROCKY RACCOON 100 MILER: February 7-8th, 2009

Typical Trail at Rocky.

It was one of those Ultra Travel days that one can not prepare for, no matter how one tries. But getting into Phoenix at 10:30 in the evening made it impossible to avoid. I had an early flight out to Houston and there was no sense in getting a hotel room, or calling on friends or family to come and get me. So I laid around for ten hours in the Phoenix airport, which is not particularly 'through passenger' friendly...not even much carpet to find to crash on, and couches and benches in very high demand.

The plane ride to Houston, when it finally eventuated, was routine and welcome after the boredom of the Phoenix night. I had looked into doing something in Houston before heading north to Huntsville. My choices were a produce market or the National Mortuary Museum. For some reason, it must have been my upbeat attitude upon getting out of the 'air travel' purgatory, I chose the produce market. And having perused google before leaving I had an idea of where it was, though I managed to leave the map at home. And it was one hell of a market! A few acres of produce and Hispanic vendors. All the produce you could want and at very reasonable prices. I ended up with some ice cream banana, some sweet oranges, and a bag full of the biggest peanuts I have ever seen. However I was too tired to actually get in line at one of the vans in the back and have a meal. A breakfast burrito would have done me well, but I get that way when I travel sometimes... unable to make any real decisions I wander aimlessly. I finally found myself back a my car and headed north again. Outside of Huntsville I stopped at the Sam Houston monument. Big Sam Houston stands about sixty feet high and glows in the Winter sun. Photos

After nearly twenty-four hours of airplanes, airports, and rental cars, I got to the motel room, beat and banged up, and seeing too many fingers in front of my face. I got into the room, collapsed on the bed, only to find Gideon’s bible. Gideon had checked out, he’d left it no doubt..........you’ve heard the tune...

I woke in the morning to find the weather was grand, the sky bright blue and as big as the state of Texas. It was as warm as it was when I was running the Manoa Falls, not three weeks before in Manoa. So for me it was cool; but for others it was a sauna, as they had just come from St. Paul, or Kansas where the temperatures were in the teens. I started the day with a trip down to the Race venue, which is on a small lake just south of town. This part of Texas is known for its low rolling hills and expansive pine forests. I kind of liked it. It had pine, holy, oak, and the occasional palmetto palm growing in thick cover over more oak and pine scrub. Not thick at this time of year, but certainly forest. I can only imagine what this place is like in hotter, wetter times, when the chiggers, ticks, mosquito's, snakes, and heat and humidity make it more exciting than one may desire. February is a fine time to run southern Texas forests, and this particular February seemed to be optimal.

I spent the rest of the day buying vast quantities of Ensure and Boost. Given my experience in the HURT just three weeks before I was convinced that the liquid supplements would be my salvation. When I had finished going from one store to the next I had a stash of supplements that could fill my car trunk. Weather I would need this, or even be able to drink it all in the time I had to run the race was a question I just didn't want to deal with. I was driven only by the goal of having enough and not running out, something that had plagued me in the latter laps of the HURT, where I had to rely on the aid stations to supply it. I made a meal of boost and some peanuts and went to bed early.

I was up in the night, I put on a long sleeve HURT shirt, and the rest of my uniform and it did me just fine. But my support bags were packed with all kinds of cold and wet weather gear. Outside my room I found a lot of other runners packing their cars. The Rocky Raccoon had 240 paid 100 milers and about as many 50 mile starters. A big race. I got there a bit early fearing a crowed lot, but given the parking lots at the lake it was no problem at all.

It was an informal start. There may have been a prayer, I couldn't hear. We were standing around one minute, and the next people were slowly making their way through the aid tent and over the start line. I hit my stop watch and we were off. As usual I was not running, and just stretching out a bit over the first miles. Even starting far back in the mob, I had a lot of people come by me. But the ground was soft and the trails rolling, and before I was really ready I found myself jogging along at a faster pace than I am used to doing at that stage.

As I found out very quickly, this race is a sprint over rolling dirt or sandy trails and twisty curvy forest paths, or down straight long rolling dirt roads and tracks. But don’t think it’s a lark, the paths are crisscrossed with roots, and the trees come alive in the night. I stumbled numerous times in the early miles, failing to see the roots hidden under the debris and once even managed to take a good fall as I whacked a high root. I whacked and bumped my shoes, and was left wondering if my right big toe nail will ever have time to re-grow. So if you come out this way, be fast but be wide-eyed, for these rolling trails can be deceptively technical, particularly in the early stages of the race when you may think you are running smooth open trail.

I knew I was moving along well, but I was not really push hard. Somewhere after the first hour and a half we joined up with the fifty milers who were doing a slightly different loop. The trails became a bit more crowded and the sun came up. I found myself running with Kelly who was doing the fifty miler. It was her first Ultra and she was a bit concerned. She needn't be as she had some good Marathons. Her pace was a bit fast for me, but she was a steady runner and I could gear down and stick behind her. Following her over the last half of the loop, even with some conversation, brought me back toward the finish at 4:15. When we hit the start/finish I wished her a good race as I knew I was not going to be maintaining that pace. I was already feeling the twinges of things not quite right in my legs. It was easy to change my pace a bit, and to ignore them, they were no problem if I was doing a 50 K, or even a fifty miler, but I knew I was pushing things so early in a hundred miler. But Kelly was nice to talk to, and her pace was quick, and it felt good.

I slowed on the second lap, but I was still running a fifty miler with my body, and my mind knew that I moving too fast. I was passing a lot of runners, hard to tell if they were fifty milers or hundred runners. I was running light on my camel pack, trying to keep my weight down, and just using the heavy liquid load that the late night and early morning ensure and boost were bringing to me. There was no Bag Balm to be found in Huntsville and I had only a small amount with me. The Vaseline is never much of a help, and early in the second lap I started to have problems with the typical places. I slapped on more Vaseline and pushed on. I ran out of water twice as I tried to keep my pack light. It was stupid planning, as I could have taken a few seconds to dump in some water at the aid stations. But I was enamored with my fast pace and not really looking to far down the road.

As the sun came up the weather got really nice. I was running with a black long sleeve HURT shirt and it was perfect for the conditions. Most of the runners around me were complaining of the heat. I welcomed it, as it was still just a bit cool for Hawaii conditions. I pushed on, jogging more than I normally do and joining up with various people when our paces coincided. These were small conversations that generally ended at aid stations when I pushed through and most others took a bit of time grazing and chatting with the volunteers and other runners. I just ticked off the list people I passed, their backs to me as they reached for food. I'm not particularly social on runs, and as a middle of the pack runner people often get a laugh out of my silent stalking competitiveness. My feeling on this is that, many of these people can beat me in a strait out run, so I have to get by em any way I can. Aid stations are often much easier points to pass people than out on the trail, where have a tendency to feel a bit more competitive.

Late in the second loop people were starting to complain of dehydration and muscle cramping. The aid stations were hawking electrolytes, salt, and three kinds of energy/electrolyte supplements. There was no reason to be getting screwed up early in the race. But Mid-westerners and Texans are a stubborn lot it seems. A few guys had stripped off their shirts and were running bare chested. These were not guys like Gordon, or Ed, or Don, who are used to the sun, but kind of Michelin like fellows with pasty white winter skin and pinkish-blue hues. I wanted to stop them and scream at them to be careful, but they were ahead of me, and I figured it would not matter anyway. Nobody from Illinois wants to hear how we do it in Honolulu. These guys slowly began looking like New Englanders, the kind with big claws and hard shells you find in pots of boiling water; bugs.

The second lap ended and I was under nine hours. It was startling. I started to think I had a chance at 24! The numbers began to run though my mind. Three more fives and I had it. I could slow down I told myself and still do it. All I had to do was three fives! I think I said something to Marty when we were running together and he just wished me luck. Another guy, who was just past seventy, but looked 62 or so, laughed when I told him we could all make 24. I was running along preaching to the guys in my class about how it was a perfect day to break 24, but there were few takers on my message. I should have known at that point that I was forgetting that I had already pushed too hard, and had a lot farther to go, 55+ miles, to actually make 24. But for those twenty miles or so, I was a true believer.

I came in on the end of the third lap still feeling pretty good. I was starting to have some gut problems, I was having some nasty chaffing issues, I had a problem with my left heel that I knew had become a blister, but that was to be expected at 60 miles--at least that is what I told myself. It was already dark and I was moving a bit slow but I managed to get my shoes changed, to my Adidas Super Nova Trails, as I had a pretty blister from my Ascics, my lights in order, nutrition taken care of, and to lube myself heavily against the chaffing. It took longer than I had hoped, but 24 was still there as a goal. I pushed on. Now it was two just under five or so.

I had done the first 20 in 4:10, the second in 4:20, and the next 20 in just about 5:00. Then I had that long aid station stop. Hey I was thinking I’d still be done before I started and headed out on loop four needing to pull in another low four. I was still feeling good, but my body was beginning to show the wear. I pushed but I was slowing and there didn't seem to be much I could do to increase my pace. In the dark the tree roots seemed to come alive and reach up and grab at my shoes. I was tripping a good deal, stumbling, and occasionally getting those long kind-of-not-quite falls that sap one's energy and mark a funny colored toe nail.

All-in-all I did the forth lap well, but I had to add in the aid station stop and that blew the number well past five. I remember sitting there drinking an ensure playing with my gear and getting my lights ready. It came to me that pushing on at the pace I had been keeping was going to be a very difficult problem. If I had done fives to begin with, I might have been able to do a four plus. But to have done a couple of four pluses, and a couple of five pluses, meant I had wasted myself. There was nothing left in the tank. 24 was out of the question. Well, perhaps I thought to myself, a finish with twenty-four in it was possible. I calculated that out, and even that seemed to be a bit optimistic. But I left it on the table, and headed out on my last lap knowing that I was not going for 24, and that I needed to start watching myself a bit more closely. I can't say I gave up, but I did realize I was in the process of doing what I often caution other runners against. There were other hundreds to run, I needed to keep that in mind.

My pace was good through much of the final lap. That twenty-four something finish actually remained a possible for a long time. But it faded eventually and I was going for a twenty-five. I pushed on, but not with the typical 'last loop' madness I can usually muster. It just wasn't there. I was hanging on, watching my knees which were showing soreness. I had some serious chaffing, my guts were not good, my left foot was still sore from the blister, and some of the problems from that I had at HURT actually came back to haunt me. But I was making a fair time.

I'm not sure what happened at the Damn Road aid station on my return. I had maybe ten miles left, I was slow but doing a good walking pace. I thought I saw Mike Smith at the table, and I wanted to be cute and sneak by him. I just went to my drop bag, downed an ensure and headed out. I was pushing a bit, but everything seemed OK. Then suddenly for no apparent reason, at least if you discount the previous 90 miles of hard push, my left hamstring just tightened. It wasn't quite a pull, but it was suddenly very sore. At any other time I would have stopped, but with only ten miles left I knew I had to push on. Suddenly I was gimping along slowly. The pain was manageable but constant. I could put very little weight on my left leg without some severe pain. I put up with this for half an hour or so, making little distance. Then I took off one of the laces from my gaiter, wrapped my face cloth around my knee and tied it tight just above my knee. The pressure against my contacted hamstring seemed to help a bit. I was still gimping, but I making a better pace.

Somehow I think I took a wrong turn. I don't know where or how, or even if I did, but I never saw Mike, nor a few other runners that I had been moving along with, I was with a small group of people spread out over a half mile of road. It was that pre-dawn dimness when things are seen strangely. Perhaps with a bit of hallucinatory splendor at times. Anyway I kept looking for this left turn that never came. Not finding it I continued down the road. An endless road. Just gimping along at a slow pace. Time left me behind, telling me it would meet me back at the room. A few people passed me but for the most part I was alone on this trail I did not really recognize very well. Things moved in the brush, light flickered ahead and behind, the sky was turning gray, shadows that may have been other runners appeared here and there. Seconds seemed to suddenly turn into minutes. I limped along trying to regulate the pain levels.

I wasn't tearing anything, or dealing with a torn muscle. I could feel the tightness of the contraction all the way up to my groin. I could move, but I knew if I pushed too hard I would indeed tear the muscle or the tendon. So continuing with caution seemed to be the thing to do. As long as I was cautious I could finish. And at near 92+ miles there was going to have to be some really serious reason to stop me.

Finally, after much too long, I found myself back on a familiar path and the final aid station loomed ahead. I crossed the Park Road, and asked for some duct tape. I was lucky, they had some. I grabbed it and began to wrap my leg. All the volunteers could say to me was 'That is going to really hurt when you try and get it off!". "Well it really hurts now, so it is an even trade, I guess," was my reply. I pushed on. Hours of time evaporated. I kept shaking my head. I knew I had slowed down, I knew 24 was out of the question before I started the last twenty, but I could not understand where the 25th hour had gone. Suddenly I was looking at 26 hours on my watch! But a voice in the back of my head was laughing hysterically. "26+ hours you moron! When you ever going to do this again? Just finish and stop belly aching!"

I took my own advice and just pushed on without all the BS whimpering. I would finish, and the time would be the time.

I gimped on, the pain ebbing and flowing, my pace an inversion of the hamstring sensations. I actually passed some people, was passed by others, but kept pushing. I crossed the line at 26:28. Almost 2 hours faster than my previous PR, and likely my life long PR. I have no plans to go after Twenty-four again! Marty, Ed, and Carl. finished close behind me. We took a few pictures. Mike Smith finished forty minutes before me, and I still can not figure that out. I never spoke with Mike at the Damn Road, so I don't even know if that was him at the aid station table, or if it was anyone for that matter. My mind was just over the edge out there at 88+ miles and it was the time of seeing. I waited around for him before I finally asked and found he was all ready in and gone. I showered quickly and came back to the start to congratulate a few of the runners I had spent some time with. Then I limped back to the car and drove back to the motel. My thigh was sore for a couple of days, and I did a lot of massage on it to loosen it up. It slowed me down the following week at the Dry Rock Ridge Run, but that's another post. It still tells me it's there when I run hard.


The Rocky Racoon is a well run race. A fast race. It is a good one to consider for a first 100, or for a sub-twenty-four attempt. The race staff is wonderful. The support is very good, and the volunteers willing and helpful. I always felt at home. There were plenty of HURT alumni there. Mike Smith, Carl Gammon, Marty, Andy, Ed, were among the crowd I ran with. There were others in the fast gang who were there as well. I don’t know if there were any other HURT 09 finishers there, but I talked to a guy who had paced at HURT. He told me I was nuts to be out there. (So what's your point?)This is a Midwest annual event, the culminating run of a number of their Ultra series. There were over 200 Hundred Mile starters and as many 50 Milers. Lots of people. Lots of Texas good cheer and hospitality. Huntsville is an interesting town. A bit of a college place, well known for the gigantic penal institution, home of Sam Houston, dripping with a lot of that 'new money' and the high end communities to show for it, but still having a lot of rural life style running in its viens.

The terrain is rolling pine and deciduous forest, with the occasional palmetto palm tree. Lots of holly, and oak. It is pretty in a South Texas winter kind of way. The warm weather of the week made it quite pleasant. But beware! Huntsville Texas can have temperature variations of over 60 degrees in a day. Wake up to sub 30 and see above eighty by afternoon. The storms can roll in fast and nasty. My fun run can quickly become a nasty never ending treck along muddy, cold and wet trails.

I had lucked out, but I saw the medic to help
Unwind the roll of duct tape from my hamstring
The Nurse said Mikey looks like you met your match
But I said, 'good nurse it's only a scratch'
And I’ll be better,
I’ll be better Doc, and soon be able.

Then I fell back in my room
Only to find Gideon’s bible
Gideon checked out and he left it no doubt
To help with poor Mikey’s revival......


Rocky Raccoon in 26:28

HURT 100 SPLIT TIMES

Here is an analysis of my HURT 100 split times

Spreadsheet

My averages over each section were

Nature to Paradise 2:40:48
Paradise to Jackass 2:00:00
Jackass to Nature 2:29:12
Average total Loop 7:10:00

Recovery

Out on the Kalawahine Trail.

One Definintion of Kalawahine is Cleansing Rain.

Well, the hallucinations have ebbed, and the periods of coma like inactivity have passed. I have managed to scrub the dirt off most of my appendages and the blisters are not as bad as I had feared when they were burning the bottoms of my feet. I still have GI problems, but I always have those, and for some reason nobody is the least bit interested in hearing about them.

I feel relatively good, I have some knee pain I do not like, but I will go easy for a few weeks. I am coming back into the world. The endorphin bath is always quite blissful, even with the tremendous pain and hardship it takes to get there.

loop 1: 5:59:00 Being Really Stupid actually slowed on last section to rest.
loop 2: 7:05:00 Minor Bonk coming into Paradise (chills/sweats, loss of balance)
loop 3: 8:11:00 Major Stop sock change, bonk (20 minutes) Loop run all in the dark
loop 4: 7:34:00 Gut Cramping (15 minutes slowing)
loop 5: 7:01:00 Gut Cramping (30+ minutes-- almost put me out. I just walked through it.)

35:50:00

I'm wondering what I can do next.

2009 Hurt 100

The HURT 100 Finisher's Shirt and the 100 Mile Finisher's Belt Buckle. (How do I attach the buckle to my swim trunks?

It took me 20 minutes to get my camera and have somebody take a shot. I came in and stood at the sign just like this for 10 minutes before I realized nobody gave a shit.

I finally grabbed Rex and got this picture. This is one of the most sincere handshakes I have ever made. Rex saved my ass at least twice on this HURT 100!


Fish was with me in spirit if not running right in front of me on the entire HURT. The training we did together is the base I depended upon. The last loop was a typical 'all out' run that we did again and again in training.

And......it wasn't. I wrote a long story about the last one I did in 2007. This one was less dramatic, but no less eventful. I once again finished in 35:50. This year with a lot of help from Rex, who paced me through the last section. Fish and I had run that last section out of Nuuanu so many times that it was just natural to let it all hang out. Thanks to Rex, who saved my ass at one aid station stop, and helped me through what appeared an impossible task of getting out of Nu'uanu, to Fish who has trained with me for months, and to Don who was with me at most aid stations and watched over my progress. I am most fortunate to have such good friends.

We who about to die, salute you!

Well I am not about to die, nor do I need to pay homage to a mad emperor, but the days are gone and the hours are fleeing, and the HURT 2009 is upon us.

I have trained well, I believe I have prepared well, and I am ready to meet the trails for as long as it takes to do five loops. It will be wet, cold, slippery, and unpleasant. But that is what it is. I have my idea of how to do it and that is the plan I will stick to.

Time now to simply do what needs to be done for the next 48 hours.