If my [year] racing season could be summed up in one image, it’s me, sitting down, eating pizza.

This thing won’t read itself, let’s go!

Race 1: Bridle Trails 10.4 Mile – January 8, 2011

I don’t remember much about this race beyond it being quite nipply and my very early in the race succumbing to what was a relatively low level of fitness. Simultaneously unsurprising yet disheartening. I also remember driving to the race with my chauffeur Patrick behind the wheel of his yuppie mobile, so I probably spent the first few miles of this race smelling like a wet dog. I finished in 6th place, about 40 seconds in front of Trisha Steidl.

Race 2: Soaring Eagle 50k – April 10, 2011

First place award was a folded up piece of paper!

This was the first of what I like to call (to no one in particular until now) the season’s trio of bittersweet races. Sweet because I won, bitter because I am mentally and emotionally horrible at running in sub-prime conditions. Honestly, I’m not big at running in mud, or driving rain, or some combination of the two. It sort of disgusts me and I spend all of the race in my own head, squirming at the dampness in my socks, likely worrying about impending blisters (from said socks), and thinking ahead to what will surely be a revolting change of clothes afterward as I climb into my formerly pristine vehicle as it slowly funkifies to levels not experienced since, well, whenever I was last in Patrick’s car.

This was also my first looped ultra. Three 10 mile loops and a 1.1 miler to certify it all. About 10 seconds after heading out for the second loop, I realized I also wasn’t a huge fan of this type of course. Which is to say I hated it. The swamps I had to traverse for about a couple miles may have played a role in this, but it was such a drag to be going through some horrible swampy stretch for the second time, knowing I’d have to get through it a third time unless I chickened out and DNFed.

Race 3: Capitol Peak 55k – April 30, 2011

Photo: Glenn Tachiyama

I’ve had that cool nightmare a couple times where you get to a race and realize you don’t have everything you need. So I either hide in my car or I run the first few minutes in my Speedos before waking up in a cold sweat. Dreams became a reality at this race, as I opened up my bag at the luxurious whatever-shithole-hotel-I-stayed-at-the-night-before-the-race and found I’d forgotten, of all things, my running shorts. I sat at the foot of the bed, hoping to wake up and realize I’d thankfully brought with me about 4 pairs of shorts, but after 15 miserable minutes I gave up. Luckily I *had* brought my long running pants in case the weather took a turn for the worse, so I wouldn’t be forced to force others to see me in Speedos. Unluckily, the weather was idyllic (for running) and I lost about 10 pounds of water weight during the race solely through my needlessly covered blanket of leg hair.

Despite the ideal weather, I still count this as the 2nd of 3 bittersweet races because for the second straight race I had to drop trou in the middle of everything. I was worried this was a sign of things to come for myself in future distance races, as well as yet another sign of my much-older-than-31-years-old physiological self. Like I was precipitously falling towards someone who should maybe be living in an assisted living facility.

Race 4: Cougar Mtn 8.2 Mile – June 11, 2011

I had to go back and re-read about this race again, I couldn’t recall a thing. Ahh yes, this race was the day after the Fremont 5K. Uli Steidl won both races. Using our respective Cougar times, his Fremont 5K time, and some basic arithmetic, I extrapolate that *my* Fremont 5K equivalent time would be a PR-setting 16:28.

Sure, it’s true he may have been a *smidge* tired from that PM race only 14 hours before, while I was baby-fresh and unraced in over a month. But I think I will head over to my PR page and make that update as soon as I’m done with this post. Assuming I don’t forget.

What’s that, you say? That’s not kosher runner behavior?

Race 5: Taylor Mtn 50k – June 18, 2011

Running away from the awkward pizza confrontation.

Which brings us to the final of our bittersweet ultra trifecta, which saw us, in June of all months, braving monsoon conditions and swimming across the “ankle deep” creek crossing twice. This was horrible. I ran the ENTIRE race alone and though I won, I didn’t KNOW I won until after crossing the finish line.

Afterward, I stood under one of the few tents, inhaling whatever food I was allowed to inhale. There was pizza, but a “one slice per runner” rule. Totally understandable for the 5 and 10 milers. But enforcing a “one slice!” rule on those of us who spent 4-6 hours out in that dank, urine-soaked hell hole was caloric cock-blocking at its finest. Two other male finishers arrived sometime later and one reached for a second slice. The volunteer manning the tent started explaining the rules, and the moment the 2nd slice guy started with the modest display of surprise, I was sprinting away in the opposite direction.

Race 6: White River 50 Mile – July 30, 2011

I still cannot believe we got to the race start on time after Patrick’s car blew a flat the morning of. I spent most of the ~10-15 minute drive from the blow-out spot to the starting line thinking about how I would either be missing this race altogether or, at best, starting it way after the gun went off. There is no “gun time” and “chip time” at White River. So my (yes yes, very optimistic) goal of sub-8:00 was likely going to face an unhelpful hurdle of having to turn into a sub-7:50 or thereabouts to make up for however late we were going to be. Needless to say, this wasn’t the most positive mindset to find one’s self 5 minutes before a 50 miler.

But we made it. By the skin of our teeth.

At least it wasn’t hard to find Patrick’s car after the race.

It turned out to be insignificant, as I shit the bed to the tune of a 9:01. Even if I was an early-starter, the last sub-8:00 guy would have passed me as we climbed out of Skookum Flats, figuratively farting on me in the process. Perhaps that’s what I should do next time. Not fart on guys, but start an hour early, cross at what everyone *thinks* is somewhere between 7:30-7:59 gun time (8:30-8:59 actual time), and then leave before anyone can actually talk to me, figure out, and announce that I was actually a cowardly early-starter.

Come to think of it though, that would require getting out of bed an hour earlier, so….yeah nevermind.

For those keeping score, and in the market for a new vehicle to avoid, Patrick drives a Prius. And did I mention that it smells like a wet dog?

Race 7: Cougar Mtn 13.7 Mile – August 13, 2011

The big thing here, at my annual first post-White River race, was simply improving. Much is made of meeting certain time goals, or place goals, but I find myself lately (meaning the past couple of years) just rooting for “improvement” in whatever form it comes. Or failing that, just not digressing by large amounts. I obviously didn’t get that wish at White River, but I got that at the notoriously more-difficult-than-it-seems Cougar 13(ish) miler. Like usual I ran most of the race by myself but I found myself much more able to put one foot in front of the other than I did at the same race in 2010 and 2009.

There are moments in this race that rekindle the love of running fast. Short patches of trail where you can really let loose. Like I’m running a 5k or something. After a spring/summer of 50ks and 50 miles I tend to really enjoy these brief reprieves. No one can see me and no one gives a shit and I’m probably only hitting like 7:30/mile pace, but it’s nice now and then to really be RUNNING during a race. To have the heart for once holding up its end of the bargain.

Race 8: St. George Marathon – October 1, 2011

Minutes before the race, calming the nerves with some ice cream and prop medals.

Pretty much every time I’ve described this race to other people (after the fact), I tend to sum it up with some iteration of “so…in conclusion I guess I really recommend downhill races.” Before the race I was terrified of any stretch of downhill. Aside from the merely-8 mile Ski To Sea 2010 (a miraculous success), downhills have seemed to provide me with nothing but sore shins, crushed spirits and internal voices rather rudely demanding I “never do that again.” And St. George is very much downhill. Uli Steidl gave his 2:49 prediction but prefaced it with “if you don’t like downhills, why are you running this race?” A fair question. I suppose I just couldn’t pass up the chance to run with perhaps two of my favorite people (let alone Mormons), Nate and Kristen Ogden. I dropped Nate at 24 and cruised to a 2:46 (friggin’ 1:21 in the second half). Who knows if it was the Paris buffet Thurs night, the race-day company, or incredible training on my part (cough), but these 26.2 miles were among of the easiest I have ever experienced. Nate and I ran with and dropped about 30 separate guys and a couple spunky but over matched babes, nearly all of them in the blistering second half. We were talking conversationally until about mile 22, at which point we continued to converse but with a bit more focus. Looking back I find it hard to believe how relatively “easy” this was.

Then the next day Claire and I hiked Angel’s Landing without any problem. And we ate at fucking Red Lobster (cheesy biscuits are for real) the night after. To this day I don’t know how this all worked out so well. But it might qualify as “Race of My Life” for the time being.

To sum up, run some downhill races if you get the chance!

Race 9: Dawg Dash 5k – October 23, 2011

That trophy is still up on our fridge.

A bit more down-key, I finally got to run a race with Brett, who mostly to this point had only been doing ridiculously easy 3 mile Fleet Feet store runs with me. I hadn’t run a 5k in over 2 years, and this race, despite its frequent recommendations to get off-course and its less-than-enthusiastic and more-than-pimply course marshalls, was a good time. After a spring and summer of plodding along at 9 minute pace, it was a refreshing change to bust ass for 17 minutes and then be done. I was leading to Brett’s 2nd until about the 2.9 mile mark, at which point some random guy flew by both of us and won, but second place still won me $50 at Super Jock & Jill, and a donation-ready “space blanket,” so it was a nice return to the short fast stuff. I don’t know if it’s this enjoyment I felt or Brett’s real-time company (as I’ve mentioned before, racing WITH people seems to be the exception to the rule for me), or both, but I’d like to see what I can accomplish again at this nausea-inducing distance & speed.

Two+ months later, on New Years Eve, I found myself yet again next to an unfortunate Uli Steidl, who again had to explain his feelings on racing to the bald neophyte across from him. I tend to think of 50Ks and 50 milers as tough yes, but as a distance that at least I can dip my feet into gently, and approach warmly. The pain will come, but I can prepare myself for it as the race develops. In a 5k I’m peeing myself on the starting line and my 180+ heart rate 10 seconds into the race allows for little else than fear. His view is the opposite. The 5K yes has exponentially-increasing heart-rate pressure, a sometimes-horrible mile/dollar cost, and some total turd burglars who wear headbands and shit, but if you’re in a certain shape, you’re in a certain shape, and not much can change that. In a 50 mile…many things can and will go wrong unless you account for the smallest detail. There’s simply too much time to pass (say, ~six and a half hours for the world class Steidl, fucking nine hours for me) to not have *something* come up. In a 5K, you run as hard as you can for 15 minutes and you’re done. If you have a tender stomach, who gives a shit? The race will be over in a few minutes, so suck it up junior. And better yet, the next day you can run again comfortably. So if you see me at a 5K starting line, smelling like urine and talking to myself, I’m either reminding myself of that counterpoint…or I’m talking on my bluetooth that you can’t see.

Race 10: Cougar Mtn 50k – October 30, 2011

And yet here I was back at the 50k distance just one week after the Dawg Dash. I admit I ran this race solely out of loyalty to all things SRC and Scott McCoubrey. I don’t even know if either entity had anything to do with the Cougar 50k, but I remember Scott (or as he likes me to refer to him, “MISTER MCCOUBREY”) talking about a possible 50k on Cougar/Squak Mtn a couple years back, and here it was in its debut glory, so I paid my $ and toed the line (which at a typical Cougar race means “stood around listlessly until the RD says ‘hey you guys can go now.’”). I mean Cougar has some nice trails (consult above races…and prior year races, and think ahead to future races, many of which will be at Cougar) but by the end of October, and the end of a first-ever (and perhaps only-ever) 100 mile week, the last thing my legs wanted to was power hike the shit out of limp up Squak Mtn.

In order to get that glorious third digit on the weekly mileage tally, I simply had to get to around mile 18. By that point though, I was leaving the nightmare of Squak Mtn and there was some old guy chasing me, so I sprinted back through Cougar as fast as I could (probably about a 13 min pace) and held on to 3rd place by the Greg Crowtherest* of margins.

*See, what I’m saying here is Greg is kinda thin.

I would be remiss to not mention, and not appropriately conclude this post with words on how appreciative I am that someone in the Cougar Mtn Series Race Directing family has as strong a taste in Mike & Ike’s as I do. The 43rd thing you can count on at the Cougar Mtn Series is that the post-race spread of food will contain a big bowl full of melting, sticky, delicious Mike & Ike’s. You don’t get Mike & Ike’s at local 5k road races.

Just a Greg Crowther’s width over 2500 miles on the year (and 2500 words here). As someone who merely roots for improvement, I’ll take it.

2011 vs 2010
Month   Miles   Time  Off
Dec '11   103  13h02   13
Nov '11   111  13h47   15
Oct '11   200  26h14   14
Sep '11   241  29h32    4
Aug '11   212  26h53    8
Jul '11   306  43h33    6
Jun '11   236  31h04    7
May '11   239  29h56    7
Apr '11   274  36h16    6
Mar '11   226  27h48    9
Feb '11   203  25h51    4
Jan '11   156  19h57   10
--
Dec '10    20   2h37   27
Nov '10   168  20h33   10
Oct '10   241  30h20    6
Sep '10   156  19h51   14
Aug '10   182  23h32   12
Jul '10   285  39h42    8
Jun '10   247  31h34    7
May '10   274  35h08    5
Apr '10   165  20h55   11
Mar '10   226  29h11    9
Feb '10   186  22h48    7
Jan '10   159  20h21   12
--

Totals  Miles   Time  Off
so far
2011     2508 323h55  103
2010     2309 296h28  128
--
Daily   Miles   Time  Off
Avg
2011      9.6  74m11   --
2010      9.7  75m03   --
--
Weekly  Miles   Time  Off
Avg
2011     48.2   6h14  2.0
2010     44.4   5h42  2.5

Devon Crosby-Helms, a fast ultrarunner (linked over there on the right), published this post on Wednesday, detailing a day in the life of a non-professional runner who is still training for the Olympic Trials in the marathon. Contrasting herself in some respects with the professional runner, who doesn’t need to work a separate job during the day and spends all non-running time being carried around by oiled & shaved, non-charismatic men. That’s all well and good, but what about hombres such as myself? Those who also put in 8 or 13 or 3 hours of work each day and *still* have to find the time to procrastinate on their excruciating 6-8 mile run in hopes of someday cracking 3 in a marathon, or breaking 17 in a 5k? Those who must live without twitter followers or fans or anybody who cares about anything we do at all? Life’s no picnic for us either, ya know.

With just 30 days left until the Olympic Trials I have been reading almost no feature stories of professional runners (and otherwise) getting ready to rock the Olympic Trials. While usually fascinating, I cannot relate to their lifestyles. Professional running might be hard work, almost-but-not-quite-professional running while working a normal job might be harder work, but don’t get me started on the wall-to-wall party that is a non-professional, glorified hobby-jogger’s packed schedule while they in no way train for anything of importance or difficulty. I decided during a Seinfeld commercial break last night that I would let Devon’s post inspire me to add one more bit of blogging wizardry to jrc.com before we close the book on whatever year it is today.

5:46am: Still asleep.
6:05am: Still asleep.
6:09am: Still asleep.
6:10am: Still asleep.
6:30am: Alarm sounds. More like the radio, actually. I’m not in an altitude tent nor do I know what that entails (I’ve seen a *picture* of one!), but Claire’s there next to me and the alarm’s on her side, ’cause I’m a dick, so I either climb over her to turn it off or yell at her to do it for me.
6:39am: Snooze-time ends abruptly. It’s Dave Matthews Band. Christ. This time Claire and I race to turn it off.
6:48am: Snooze again. Feels like about 12 seconds have passed since we turned off DMB. This time though I suck it up and actually get out of bed.
6:49am: It’s about 37 degrees in our room, so I can see my horrendously bad breath as I fumble for a 4th, 5th, and 6th layer.
6:58am: Assuming I did not fall down the stairs (note: usually I do not), I pour myself a bowl of cereal. Typically Honey Bunches of Oats or the equivalent (whichever’s on sale). I would drizzle some Udo’s Oil on it but about 8 months ago I ran empty on my small sample bottle some representative gave me.
6:59am: Spill milk on my lap while opening up laptop. “At least I missed the laptop!” I exclaim to the cat before over-correcting and spilling milk on the laptop.
7:01am: Check email. The moment before the page loads is one of the most exciting of the day for me. Eight hours have passed since my last check. Surely many friends have written in with amusing anecdotes or words of admiration.
7:02am: Delete the one email I got, from “Masherz.com”, peddling their…whatever the hell it is they sell. I make a mental note to unsubscribe from their email list when I have some “free time.” I will never follow up on that note.
7:03am: Facebook! Can’t wait to see that big red notifier at the top, telling me my friends have been clamoring for my attention overnight. There’s nothing. Again. Hmm. A couple female friends have the usual corny status updates and/or comments to other females’ corny status updates. There’s a new postage stamp-sized image from that guy I haven’t seen since 11th grade. Another invite to an event from that guy I haven’t seen since I was 12, who lives on the east coast and has 2500 friends for some reason.
7:06am: Hit refresh. Still nothing. Check inbox again. Nothing.
7:45am: Finish catching up on Twitter and Google Reader. Most blogs I skim. The “Running” folder is the best, likely because new stuff arrives pretty infrequently. Oh look, Anton Krupicka has a new post up. Looks like his shin still hurts. Joe Grant went somewhere and took some pictures.
8:00am: Do dishes (maybe), make lunch (one or two PB&J sandwiches [mmmm!!], banana I might not eat til right before dinner), feed the cat.
8:15am: Upstairs, gussying myself up for work. Try to avoid the mirror but I give in to check if I need to trim my eyebrows. Yep! I immediately forget to though. Brush teeth.
8:15:15am: Stop brushing. Find least repugnant color combo of clothes I can and change for work.
8:20am: Claire (still in bed) opens her eyes long enough to ask if I’m really wearing sweats to work. On a 1-10 scale of disgust, she broke the needle.
8:21am: Change into my “it’s wintertime, I’m getting a little paunchy around the waist” jeans.
8:45am: Sitting on the West Seattle Bridge with a bunch of other miserable losers. Daily realization occurs that I *could* probably murder someone. Roughly 50-90% of the women drivers I pass are driving with one hand while looking down at their laps for some reason.
9:10am: Arrive at work. Grab one of my two reusable water bottles from the mini-fridge. Make a mental note that it’s been a month and I should probably take it home and clean it.
9:15am: Biggest call of the day is already upon me: which direction do I go with the music? The office speakers are attached to my cpu. Go with Radio Paradise or KEXP (least offensive to others, but most vanilla and boring), Groove Salad (more offensive to others, but more pleasing for me), or Spotify (most offensive to others, especially if I decide to be in an Aphex Twin mood)?
11:15am: I have completed eating everything I prepared for the day. Set aside 5 minutes to be sad.
11:25am: Lose another $42 in solitaire on my IPHONE. #humblebrag
12:00pm: Check Facebook. Nothing for me. Again. A few more corny female updates though. I get mildly dizzy from my inability to stop rolling my eyes.
1:00pm: Check Twitter for 50th time. Eavesdropping while being ignored has never been this addicting. Get annoyed by celebrities’ propensity to actually RT pathetic mouth-breather’s no-point pleads for a RT. At least Rob Delaney’s funny!
1:10pm: Suck up to a handful of celebs and runners, hoping for a RT.
2:00pm: Bicker with Patrick over Google chat about something entirely inconsequential, usually running-related. Eventually we get back on good terms with one another thanks to a mutual annoyance towards Vibram Five Fingers and its sycophants.
3:10pm: Enjoy a video project somebody made on the internet that was linked through my feedreader (or maybe twitter). The project probably took these two guys about 250 hours to complete, and for their efforts, it will receive a few “cool!” comments and be completely forgotten by tomorrow.
3:11pm: This all reminds me of my wiffleball site. Set aside 5 minutes to be sad.
4:15pm: As the sun starts to disappear, I start thinking about whatever the run is that night and if I can possibly rationalize skipping it.
5:45pm: Start packing up. Refill my stank-ass water bottle and place back in the fridge with absolutely no recognition towards my earlier mental note.
6:45pm: Carbo unload before my evening run. And by “evening run” I mean “run,” because I only run once a day…if that.
7:10pm: Having run out of procrastination tools, I am out the door!
7:55pm: And we’re back! An utterly forgettable 6 miles. Towards the end of the run, I reminded myself to do some core work and stretching before I go upstairs. Once I get inside though, I quickly remove my shoes and say “haha yeah right” to that idea while patting my soft, hairy stomach and going upstairs to eat cookies. And I do indeed *say* “haha yeah right.” As in, out loud.
8:00pm: If Claire’s not already making something for dinner, she’ll ask me what I want. I say “Pizza?” like a 7 year-old and she rolls her eyes. This actually does happen about 2-3 times a week. It’s like our catchphrase. Except only I think it’s funny. Like I’m Joey Gladstone. I think it’s because my pizza joke is never followed by a “real” suggestion. That’s just all I say.
8:10pm: My five minute shower begins.
8:25pm: All clean!
8:35pm: Get a little touchy-feely with Claire in the kitchen (her: hugging me; me: dry-humping her)
8:45pm: We eat dinner (lentil soup, w/quesadillas that I made, poorly) while reading the Wall St. Journal. I’m usually pretty wiped at this point, so I don’t bother pretending to understand anything in the “Marketplace” section and just skim the sports page while wishing they had a fucking comics section. I make a few jokes about random minutia that Claire usually no-sells.
9:00pm: I check my email, excited because it’s been about 3 hours, but there’s nothing new except a mass email from Extended Stay Hotels. I make a mental note to remove my name from their list. No RTs or mentions on Twitter…again. But I did get two more spam followers. On Facebook, the corniness is bordering on obscene. Rainshadow Running has posted status updates/images about 5 times regarding random races they’re putting on next September. I post something obnoxious and murmur a little prayer to myself that people will comment on it before I wake up the next morning. Claire asks “What’d you say?” and I quickly reply “Umm…nothing.”
9:30pm: We start an episode of Gilmore Girls. I keep Claire’s face in my periphery while making as many lewd comments as possible about either Rory’s ba-donka-donk or Paris Geller. I average going about 1-2 comments too far.
10:15pm: If it was a good one, we may jump into a 2nd episode. If not, Seinfeld!
11:00pm: Claire’s usually begging me to go to bed. I fight her off for what usually averages being about one episode of Fraiser. I’m a night owl. She’s a day tripper.
11:30pm: Claire has her mask over her eyes and is trying to sleep while I crack open Infinite Jest at probably the worst possible time of day & setting to be reading it, assume laser-like focus, and plow ahead like there’s no tomorrow.
11:40pm: I am losing focus every second, so I cry Uncle and turn off my little book light. I read about 3 pages. Still 300 to go.
11:43pm: The cat climbs into her litter box in the bathroom and drops a horrific shit. And she does not cover it up. I silently wait 10 seconds, hoping Claire gets up to scoop it. She feigns being asleep with some really non-believable heavy breathing and I take the high road.
11:44pm: I very audibly gag or (sigh) while scooping it, reminding Claire what a great guy I am to be doing this.
11:47pm: Asleep.

November came and went about as expected. I did relatively little running; only enough to allow me the successful completion of my pacing duties at the Seattle Marathon.

I was responsible for guiding a collection of 3 hour hopefuls through the first half of the course. A number of people approached me at the starting line, introducing themselves and not-too-subtly sizing up my pace leader qualifications. “What are you going to run the first mile in?” someone asked. “I have no idea,” I replied, unhelpfully. “Hopefully close to 6:52!” I’ve never paced the first half of a marathon and I was surprised how many people were there to run with me. The quantity of bros (and one bra) at the start and the aggressive line of questioning slowly raised my nerves. And I think my using only a basic stopwatch (in lieu of a Garmin) did nothing to soothe theirs.

I crossed the first mile in 6:49, and all worry seemed to melt away. Trisha Steidl, the eventual women’s winner, was about 20 yards in front of us, and I noticed as long as I kept her around there, I was crossing seemingly every mile mark between about 6:45 and 6:55. By the time I was wrapping up my end of the pacing bargain, a couple of the guys thanked me for m efforts, which was nice. Not so much cause I desired recognition, it was just nice to know these guys weren’t pissed off at me halfway through their race.

2011 vs 2010
Month   Miles   Time  Off
Nov '11   111  13h47   15
Oct '11   200  26h14   14
Sep '11   241  29h32    4
Aug '11   212  26h53    8
Jul '11   306  43h33    6
Jun '11   236  31h04    7
May '11   239  29h56    7
Apr '11   274  36h16    6
Mar '11   226  27h48    9
Feb '11   203  25h51    4
Jan '11   156  19h57   10
--
Nov '10   168  20h33   10
Oct '10   241  30h20    6
Sep '10   156  19h51   14
Aug '10   182  23h32   12
Jul '10   285  39h42    8
Jun '10   247  31h34    7
May '10   274  35h08    5
Apr '10   165  20h55   11
Mar '10   226  29h11    9
Feb '10   186  22h48    7
Jan '10   159  20h21   12
--

Totals  Miles   Time  Off
so far
2011     2405 310h53   90
2010     2289 293h51  101
--
Daily   Miles   Time  Off
Avg
2011      9.9  76m26   --
2010      9.8  75m40   --

Normally a 1:30 half marathon would be no sweat, even in the crummy weather we found ourselves, and even with a heavier-than-Rock&Roll pace sign to hold throughout. My reduction in training was definitely felt however, as I was pretty wrecked by the time I could stumble off the course around mile 14. Admittedly much of this has to do with my desperate need for a gym membership, as my back was feeling the effects of running with a sign for 14 miles. The wind in that first half was either in our face or coming from the side, which made holding the 5 oz piece of plastic piping a little more difficult than my noodle arms were prepared. Initially I was thinking I would hand off to Lance Thompson (the 2nd half pacer) and drop back, still finishing the marathon, but on my own, slower schedule. I got around mile 12 and I think my brain told my legs to start getting ready to call it a day, perhaps due to the inevitable arrival of my relief. Lance indeed appeared around mile 12.5 and it was like I’d suddenly hit the wall. We crossed the half marathon mat at about 1:29:20 and I mosied over to the side of the course, dropping a painful 8 minute mile before stopping at the mile 14 aid station and drinking about 15 cups of Gatorade. I was slightly disappointed to not be finishing the race, and my brain faked its way through a few half-hearted attempts to change my mind, but it wasn’t going to happen. I was drenched, my shoes and socks were filled with water, my ankle was bleeding yet again from some nice chafing thanks to Seattle’s bizarre velcro timing chip, and my traps felt like I’d just done 90 minutes of shoulder shrugs.

I returned to the starting area and ran next door to Claire’s booth at an Etsy show to get my change of clothes. I changed and ran back just in time to see my pacing partner crossing the line around 2:59:40. He crossed by himself, but I saw a couple had gone on ahead and finished in the high-2:58, low 2:59-range. Trisha, who I trailed for roughly 13.1 miles, came in at 3:03.

Ever since then my legs have been feeling…off. The heels are sore all the time, and a new area of the shins are aching. Much more than I’d expect after a barely-100+ month. It’s been a funky adventure. And the other day I remembered I have a cyst I’m supposed to chop off sometime soon. So, while I figured the 95 miles needed in December to get to 2500 for the year would be not much of a problem, now I’m bracing the family for the possibility of something smaller.

Came home to meatballs for my pasta! Moderately delicious.

The big accomplishment so far, from what I can gather in my new table, are as follows:

1. I have officially surpassed last year’s mileage total. I ran 2309 miles (rounded) last year, and I currently stand at 2331 miles this year, after 9 miles today, November 12th. I technically passed 2309 on Tuesday, November 8th. I think I *should* be able to hit the 2500 mark but I won’t kill myself to get there. It would only require about 100 miles per month in November and December though.
2. I am boringly consistent. From January to August, my average run length was 10.0 miles and 77:51 in length. Two months later, my yearly averages are now 10.0 miles…and 77:50 in length.

I am also now past the one year anniversary of my quitting FloTrackr’s run log tool. Adding up last year’s totals were a PITA because of that.

2011 vs 2010
Month   Miles   Time  Off
Oct '11   200  26h14   14
Sep '11   241  29h32    4
Aug '11   212  26h53    8
Jul '11   306  43h33    6
Jun '11   236  31h04    7
May '11   239  29h56    7
Apr '11   274  36h16    6
Mar '11   226  27h48    9
Feb '11   203  25h51    4
Jan '11   156  19h57   10
--
Oct '10   241  30h20    6
Sep '10   156  19h51   14
Aug '10   182  23h32   12
Jul '10   285  39h42    8
Jun '10   247  31h34    7
May '10   274  35h08    5
Apr '10   165  20h55   11
Mar '10   226  29h11    9
Feb '10   186  22h48    7
Jan '10   159  20h21   12
--
Totals  Miles   Time  Off
so far
2011     2294 297h06   75
2010     2121 273h18   91
--
Daily   Miles   Time  Off
Avg
2011     10.0  77m50   --
2010     10.0  76m59   --

As stated before I’m sure, I’m now officially in cutdown mode. My only responsibility through the end of the year is to remain in good enough shape to pace the first half of the Seattle Marathon for the 3:00 group. Claire will be working in Lower Queen Anne that day, near the finish line, so I’ll probably have to soldier on through the entire race and meet up with her afterward. I still do not know if I will hand off my 3:00 sign and run ahead, behind, or along with the group for the 2nd half. I do not know what will be possible. Last year I ran a 2:55 on some decent training, and this month of running will be anything BUT decent, so I think just staying with the group would prove more than I can handle. But we’ll see how I feel in the moment and cross that bridge then.

I’ve been thinking about what I want to do next year. People ask what my next race is, and I honestly just tell them “Berlin next year.” That race isn’t until late September, leaving me almost nine months of nothing on the schedule. I have a Varner 50k to navigate in early February, but I don’t intend to be in wonderful shape for that one, so it’ll be a long 30-40 mile fun run. What I’ve been thinking of doing is scaling back and maybe doing some shorter faster stuff over the spring and summer, sprinkling in the occasional long run to keep my endurance, but mostly just getting faster. See what I have in the tank for–even though they’re scary as hell–5ks, 10ks, etc. This may simply be my late-in-the-year mind being burnt out on the thought of another year of weekend super long-run obligations. It *does* sound nice to only be obligated for ~75% of the mileage, AND have it be faster, so even less overall time spent running. It does *not* sound particularly appealing at the moment to fail again at a sub-8:00 White River. Ironically, I’ve also started thinking more about finally getting that 100 mile race in, esp after my first-ever 100 mile week, but that’s a ways off. The best bet for my first one is Cascade Crest, but it’s in late August…only 4-5 weeks before Berlin. So 2012 is probably a no go.

But who knows how I’ll feel after the next month and a half vacation of sorts. I *do* know I will still be nowhere near finishing Infinite Jest, a book I believe I started during the Clinton administration and am only now about 50% through.

I’d always been planning on running the Cougar Mtn 50k ever since it was announced earlier this year, but I did not expect it to be the final run in my first-ever attempt to go over 100 miles in a week. White River and St. George were my two focus races on the year, so I wouldn’t have been hammering the Cougar race even if I *was* fresh, but putting in nearly 100 miles the 7 days before the race probably helped me police myself…by rendering me unable to hammer anything, even if I wanted to.

I ran the first 10-11 miles with Phil Kochik as we passed the time learning that we had very similar(ly disappointing) high school xc experiences and credentials. It was dark and gray and misty on the course, and the trails themselves were quite muddy for what was really just 1-2 days of rain in the past week or so. Nevertheless I was comfortable, and the trees’ fall colors contrasted nicely with the gray backdrop. I was actually enjoying myself for a bit thanks to a relaxed pace and the type of weather I’d forgotten that I used to LOVE when living back in Chico, due to its rarity.

At the 2nd aid station Phil continued on without stopping as I forced myself to eat. All this talk about shitting the bed in high school had distracted me from eating as much as I probably needed to, and by the time I left (~60 seconds), Phil was long gone. He’d mentioned that he hadn’t run any more than 12 miles at a time in the past two months, so I figured he *might* come back to me, despite his being a much better trail runner, all things equal. Not that I wanted to race him, I just would rather have had company than run alone. I also invited myself to go with him after the race for what would surely be a most delicious and earned coffee, assuming we were anywhere near each other at the finish.

I caught a guy (Dave) on Squak Mtn’s first big climb and we passed the time chatting for a bit. I learned he had beaten me at White River by just a couple minutes in July, and that he was a better downhill runner while I was a bit better at climbing. I put some distance on him towards the end of that climb and spent probably 98% of the rest of the race by myself. I did my best on the ensuing downhill to aid station 3. I really do feel like St. George has made me a bit better at downhills. Or at least toughened the quads up a little. I took the long gravel road down pretty good and was surprised to have not been caught back by Dave. Though I do believe I heard him coming into the aid just as I was leaving.

From there I was taken on what turned out to be a ridiculous climb, full of false hope and pain and misery. It was here my legs finally started reminding me, loudly, about the nearly-100 miles they were on. My left heel was hurting, and my left achilles felt strained. Both calves wanted to cramp. I kept thinking to myself “the climb HAS to end soon, we’ve been climbing forever!” Then it would go down for a 100 yards (“ok! we’re done!”) only to start going UP again for another 500 miles ([pained, sarcastic laughter]). Visibility being low, it was hard to see or know just how much higher we had to go by looking up at the trees and for what seemed like hours the answer was always, everytime you made a turn, “just a little bit more.” The increased wind and rain only added to the effect. Ala Al Bundy, I was looking up at the sky with an annoyed look on myself, muttering “good one.”

Of course at some point the climb did in fact end, and I made my way back down the mountain, vowing never to return to Squak unless paid a hefty sum, and looking forward to the relatively gentle (and familiar) climbs in Cougar. I hit Aid Station 4 (same as Aid 2 in the other direction) officially over 100 miles, technically. From there it was basically the same as the final 6-7 miles of the Cougar 13 miler, and I just slogged through it. I had no idea what place I was in, no idea what my time was (no watch), no idea how far behind me Dave was, so I tried to tell myself to just GET. THROUGH. IT. I’d gotten the 100 miles, let’s just cross the finish line and get that coffee.

Not surprisingly, “JUST. GET. THROUGH. IT.” was not the most motivating thought, and I found myself starting to worry about Dave (or someone else) catching me. This enabled me to move faster than I may otherwise have, even though my legs were wanting no part of it. Running afraid and in pain is a lot faster than simply running bored and in pain. I ate a gel at Aid Station 5 (last one), told myself there was only one climb left, and ran/hiked as hard as I could towards that coffee. At some point I finished. I had no watch so I don’t know my time, but Dave indeed came in right behind me…maybe 2-3 minutes back, and his watch said 5:27. So call it 5:25 for now. And I *think* I was 3rd place overall, behind Phil (high 4 hours) and Adam Lint (~4:30).

I had fallen too far behind Phil, as he had just left as I arrived, so instead I invited a very bored Adam, and after a cup of hot soup, we left to get the biggest coffees we could find.

Up until Sunday, one of the “hardest” races I’d ever done (in the moment) was the very first 50k I did back in 2008. The elevation change was about 6500 (not at all insignificant, that’s equal to a ~10500′ 50 mile, on a per/mile basis), but on top of that I was not at all familiar with slow trail running and just a noob in general. Still, I think this race tops it. Its 7600′ of climbing would be equivalent to White River…if White River was ~12000 (it’s “only” 8800, and still considered tough). And as mentioned, my leadup to the race was not optimal for an easy jog. I’m much well-versed at long slow trail running now, but the circumstances under which I ran on Sunday, and that fucking 2nd climb on Squak Mtn, have me convinced that this is the new difficulty standard.

And…scene.

Yesterday I completed what a week ago I thought was unlikely at best. I did not complete it because I am superhuman; my legs just didn’t give me the trouble I thought they would. Not until maybe mile 20 of the final run at least, at which point I’d already technically completed the task of going over triple digits. Too late, Brah!

I knew the new Cougar 50k would be difficult, and it was. I felt every inch of the 7600′ of climbing, especially the 2nd of Squak Mtn’s two main climbs. I had to remind myself I was in no way “racing” this thing, but of course, once I found myself passing 100 miles (around mile 19-20), my main motivation became “don’t get caught.” I ended up not getting caught, but only by a pretty slim margin (~3 minutes, I’d guess)…which isn’t a significant amount of time in a 320+ minute run. More on this race will be found in a riveting new blog post I’m concocting, to be kept separate from this 100 mile nonsense.

As a bonus, this 100+ mile effort put me *just* over 200 miles for October, continuing the streak of 200+ I started back in February. Before I decided on this ambitious week (which really only happened a few days before I started), October was probably going to only barely top 100 miles, if that. So yay for arbitrary round numbers.

That said, I don’t see much running occurring in November. I have another “pacer” responsibility, this time the first half of the 3:00 marathon pace at the Seattle Marathon, so I have to a) stay uninjured (my left heel hurts, everything else just seems to be a benign “sore”) and b) at least hold on to 1:30 half-marathon shape. At least I know I’ll run 13.1 miles in the month.

As stated a day or two or three ago, there was nothing poetic about this endeavor. It was just being persistent for once in my life. I didn’t have much fun at all until I crossed the finish line Sunday, and there were many times and moments I was pretty miserable. Was one week of aches and cold annoyance worth bumping that mileage PR from 86.4 to 112.8? Sure, why not? I don’t intend to ever really be back at this kind of mileage until I’m ready to cross that last thing off the list and finally complete a full-on 100 mile race. For my legs’ sake though, that day can sit around and wait awhile.

Run mileage: 31.1
Cumulative mileage: 112.75

So I made it through the work week. No run was longer than 9 miles, but I felt like doing the ten runs in five days would be much more difficult than tomorrow’s 50k. And who knows, maybe in 18 hours I will find out I was horribly, horribly mistaken.

Luckily, pain-wise Tuesday ended up probably being the worst day. At the time I thought it was a harbinger of bad days ahead…but the legs seemed to quickly get used to running every 12 hours. The final weekday run was nothing special. Nothing poetic. It had been raining pretty hard in the mid-late afternoon hours, so though dry in the air by the time I started, the ground was wet, and the wind was howling pretty good. As usual I had backloaded my hydration so I was peeing every 20-30 minutes at work, and knew it’d be more of the same for the run. And…that’s about it. Dark and cold and super relieved when I got home. Especially after Claire announced that yes, we COULD get that pizza for dinner.

Here’s a listing of the songs I heard during last night’s slog. That’d be one hell of a mixtape, no?

Run mileage: 9.0
Cumulative mileage: 81.65