Tuesday, January 26, 2016

The Continuing Saga of David's Legs



Welcome to this week’s episode of “The Continuing Saga of David’s Legs.”  In our last episode, David abandoned his weight training after aggravating his groin injury doing leg extensions.  It was a setback, but he was hopeful he could still eventually recover, while cautiously running 10 miles per week.

A week later, I decided to get more conservative.  There really wasn’t much to be gained by running a few slow miles on a treadmill, while wearing a compression wrap.  Why do anything to risk another setback?  Since then, I’ve done no training at all.  My number one priority is recovering from the groin strain.  If I can do that, I can start training from scratch.  It’ll take time to get in shape, but if I can train without injury, I’ll eventually get back in shape.

My plan at that point was to wait until I could to normal day-to-day activities without any hint of discomfort.  I wasn’t going to run until I was reasonably confident I could run without the compression wrap and still feel OK.  I expected that to take a few weeks.  At the time, I often felt discomfort if I absent-mindedly flexed the injured muscle while sitting.  I was a long way from being able to run.

For the next week, I wasn’t noticing much improvement.  By last weekend, I finally felt like I was turning the corner.  I wasn’t able to run yet, but I wasn’t noticing as much discomfort just going about my day.

I’m signed up for two races in February.  The first is the Los Angeles Marathon on February 14th.  Then I have the Rock ‘n’ Roll New Orleans Marathon on the 28th.  In LA, I was going to room with my friend Aaron to save on hotel costs.  Realizing I wouldn’t heal in time for this race, I contacted Aaron to see if he could make other arrangements.  After finding out he could, I cancelled all my reservations.  LA isn’t happening.  I haven’t pulled the plug on New Orleans yet, but I won’t run it unless I’m healthy.

Sunday morning, I had another setback.  I still have issues with my legs getting stiff while I sleep.  When I wake up, I need to be careful not to move my legs without carefully restoring circulation into my legs first.  It’s a slow process.  First I bend one ankle.  Then I can carefully bend one knee.  I try to use my left leg, in case I accidentally trigger cramps.  After enough small motions with my left leg, it’s safe to move my right leg.

I’m a light sleeper.  I wake up several times per night.  I depend on getting back to sleep quickly each time.  As you might guess, the process above tends to wake me up.  Making matters more complicated, I can’t just go back to sleep without moving.  I can sleep on either side, or I can sleep on my stomach, but I can’t sleep on my back.  I always have weight on one shoulder.  To get back to sleep, I need to roll onto my other side, or my shoulder gets sore.

Early Sunday morning, I got careless during the night.  I tried to roll over in bed, and my legs cramped up.  The muscles in my right thigh contracted so powerfully, I felt pain in my groin.  It continued to hurt all day Sunday.  I can’t even sleep without re-injuring my leg!

For months, I’ve been assuming I could deal with one problem at a time.  First I’d heal from the groin injury.  Then I could gradually ramp up my running.  As I resumed my previous level of training, I’d go back to having good circulation in my legs.  Unfortunately, I have a Catch 22.  The night cramps are keeping my groin injury from healing, and the injury is preventing me from getting any serious exercise.

Yesterday, I saw my doctor.  I brought him up to date on everything I’ve done since I saw him last May.  We discussed both my groin injury and the stiffness and cramps in my legs.

He thought my stiffness and cramps might be a worsening of my Raynaud’s Syndrome, but he ordered a whole battery of blood tests to rule out other possible causes.  Since my appointment, I’ve received messages with the results of each blood test.  So far, all my results have been normal.

Each time I get a new test result, I have mixed feelings.  A normal result is generally good news, but I keep hoping one of the tests will point to some easily treatable condition, such as a nutritional deficiency.  It would be great if my problems could be fixed with a few pills or a change in diet.  Of course, there’s also a more ominous possibility.  Maybe they’ll point to a life-threatening condition that can’t be easily treated.

To figure out what’s happening with my groin, the doctor ordered a few X-rays.  They revealed two interesting findings.  First, the ball of my femur has a slightly abnormal shape where it fits into the hip socket.  Presumably, it’s been that way since I was young.  I used to have a fairly efficient stride, so that’s probably not causing any major problems with my running motion.  I also have some arthritis in my pelvis.  I don’t know if that’s contributing to my groin problems, or if it’s a symptom of running with an irregular stride for so many months.

To determine if I have any tearing that won’t heal by itself, I’m going to have an MRI.  That’s scheduled for next Monday.  On Tuesday, I’ll have a consultation with an orthopedist to go over all the results.

Stay tuned for next week’s episode, when we’ll get the MRI results and hear what the orthopedist has to say.

Until then, I’m not doing any running, and I’ll try to be more careful not to hurt myself by doing high-risk activities, like sleeping.

Thursday, January 14, 2016

Highs and Lows from 36 Years of Running



I wake up frequently during the night.  Usually, I get back to sleep quickly.  Sometimes I don’t.  When I don’t, the “thinker” comes on.  (That’s what Deb and I call it when one of us starts thinking about something and can’t stop.)  Sometimes, the only way to stop the “thinker” is to think about something else.  Sometimes, I’ll begin a mental exercise that I know will eventually tire me out.  One night, I tried to recall one high point and one low point from each year that I’ve been running, starting in 1980.  I only got as far as 1985 before getting tired and falling back to sleep.  That’s not bad.

The next day, I decided to keep going with this exercise.  I’ve had a lot of ups and downs over the last 36 years.  I’m going through one of the low points right now, but without the low points, I probably wouldn’t be able to appreciate the high points.  Here are my highs and lows from 36 years of running.

1980

High
This was the year I started running.  My sister Betty and some of her friends had already been been running for a couple years.  Every two weeks, they met at the track to run an informal mile race.  Eventually, they talked me into joining them for one of their races.  I finished my first timed mile in 6:56.  Afterwards, I was so out of breath my throat and lungs felt like they were on fire.  I didn’t ever want to feel that bad again, but I couldn’t help but wonder, “How much faster can I run in two weeks, after doing some training?”  I was hooked.

Low
Betty was dating her future husband, John.  John was faster than me, but I started to close the gap.  We were both competitive.  I wanted to beat John in a race.  He wanted to hold me off.  After a few races, John had an injury that forced him to stop running for the rest of the summer.  Without my newfound rivalry with John, I lost interest in the races.  I quit running.

1981

High
I resumed running mile races with my friends.  Then my friend Rick talked me into doing a 10K race in Minneapolis.  It was called the Grandma’s Warmup 10K, because it was held a week before Grandma’s Marathon.  This was my first official race.  It was also the farthest I had ever run.  My longest training run to date was 5.25 miles.  Trying to run as fast as I could, while also running farther than I had ever run, was a challenge.  I think I finished that first race in 47:48.

Low
Our mile races were seasonal.  In the winter months, the track was covered with snow, and we stopped racing until spring.  I did three 10K races that year, and I did training runs as far as a half marathon, but without the mile races, I lost interest.  I wasn’t a year-round runner yet.

1982

High
I ran the Grandma’s Warmup 10K again.  Betty, John and Rick also ran it.  I had a huge breakthrough in this race, finishing it in 39:25.  The course was two laps around Lake Harriet.  I ran the first half in 19:55 and the second half in 19:30.  It was the first time I ever ran negative splits.  The PR I set in this race held up for several years.

Low
I heard about a new marathon that started in Minneapolis and finished in St. Paul.  It was called the Twin Cities Marathon.  I wanted to run it.  I started training somewhat half-heartedly, not sure if I could really do it.  Then I skinned my knee badly sliding into second base during a softball game.  I had a scab that was three inches long and an inch wide.  When I bent my knee, the scab cracked open and bled.  In an effort to keep the scab from getting wet, I tried to keep my knee out of the water when I took a bath.  One day, while leaning forward to wash my back, I felt something tear behind my knee.  I injured the tendon that connected my hamstring to the back of my left knee.  I tried to keep up my running, but it quickly became apparent that my season was over.  I didn’t get to run the first Twin Cities Marathon.  It took all winter for that injury to heal, and I had doubts about whether I would ever heal sufficiently to be able to run an all-out mile.

1983

High
By spring I was healthy, but some of my friends still doubted whether I had fully recovered.  In our first mile race of spring, John was faster than me.  I made a bet with Rick.  To win the bet, I had to beat John in one of our mile races before Memorial Day.  After each race, we always had lunch at Annie’s Parlour in Dinkytown.  The loser of the bet had to buy the winner a malt.  With each race, I gained ground on John.  Besides competing with each other, we were each trying to break five minutes.  My PR was 5:03.  Neither of us had run a five minute mile yet.  In one race, John was ahead of me, but I put on an early kick and passed him with almost one lap to go.  As we entered the final turn, John began his finishing kick.  I didn’t know if I could hold him off.  Then I remembered my bet with Rick.  I dug deep and held off John on the final straightaway.  I also broke five minutes.  After the race, Rick had to buy me a malt.  Never underestimate the power of ice cream.

Low
In October, I finally ran my first marathon.  Then in November, I tried to run 200 miles in one month.  The most miles I had previously run in one month was 104.  I came up a little short, finishing the month with 193 miles.  More importantly, I broke a major rule of training.  I tried to increase my mileage too quickly.  In early December, I had my first experience with runner’s knee.  For the fourth straight year, I stopped running during the winter months.  This time, I really wanted to keep training, but I had to take a break to heal.

1984

High
In June, I ran Grandma’s Marathon, which was my second official marathon.  The real highlight wasn’t the race, but the training.  Each time I did a long training run, I set a new PR.  My first long run was 14 miles.  I had run that distance several times in previous years.  In my first try in 1984, I beat my previous best by two minutes.  Next, I shattered my previous best for 17.5 miles.  Then I obliterated by PR for 21 miles.  My last tune-up was a 12 mile run around the lake where my parents had a summer cabin.  My average pace was better than seven minutes per mile.  The marathon proved to be another disappointment.  It was several minutes slower than my first marathon.  While that left me scratching my head, I knew from the strength of my training that I was improving.

Low
After Grandma’s Marathon, I resumed training.  I was planning to do the Twin Cities Marathon again in October.  Within a week, I started experiencing knee pain.  It was another flare-up of runner’s knee.  I might have been able to recover in time for the Twin Cities Marathon, but I took no chances.  I took the summer off to heal.  My season had a promising start, but came to a premature conclusion.

1985

Low
In the fall of 1984, I started my first full-time job.  I also started seeing Deb.  I stopped running completely.  It just didn’t seem as important as the new things in my life.  Over the winter, I gained enough weight that one of my coworkers politely commented about it.  Finally, by the summer of 1985, I realized I needed to get back into running.  By now, my running friends had graduated and moved to other parts of the country.  We no longer had mile races.  My motivation to resume running was the need to get more exercise so I could lose weight.  In the previous year, I put on roughly 20 pounds.  Now, running was much more difficult.  I wasn’t having fun, and I had trouble sticking with it.

High
After months of trying to get back into running, one of my coworkers said something that motivated me.  He said, “You’re training for life.”  That was the slogan of a local gym, and it’s entirely possible, he was being sarcastic.  It didn’t matter.  Those words resonated with me.  For the rest of the year, I did some form of training every day.  On Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays, I ran at least 3.5 miles.  On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, I did weight training.  On Saturdays, I went to the pool and swam a mile.  I kept this up for 100 days before taking a day off.

1986

High
In the summer of 1986, I decided to run another marathon.  I registered for the Twin Cities Marathon.  I didn’t have time for a full training cycle.  I had to whip myself into shape quickly.  I started running five days a week.  I did long runs every weekend.  In August, Deb and I got married.  I even kept up my training while we were on our honeymoon.  I didn’t end up running that marathon, but my decision to train for it was a turning point in my life.  I realized I wasn’t done yet.  I wanted to run more marathons.

Low
In September, I came down with a bad cold.  It was about four weeks before the Twin Cities Marathon.  For about two weeks, I didn’t feel up to running.  By the time I started feeling better, Deb and I were ready to move into a new house.  Instead of resuming my training, I put my time into packing and moving.  When we were done moving, it was only a few days before the race.  My training had been going well before the cold, but now I had doubts.  Instead of starting the race and giving it my best shot, I was afraid of failure.  I didn’t even try.

1987

Low
I was working on a big project at work, and it was crunch time.  I was developing software that could only be tested in a one-of-a-kind computer lab.  There were dozens of other software developers and testers who needed to use the same facility.  Lab time was a scarce resource.  The lab was scheduled around the clock.  You had to take whatever lab time you could get, even if it was midnight to 4 AM on Sunday morning.  All year long, I was working overtime, and I was working strange shifts.  I could barely get enough sleep, much less find time to run.  I didn’t do any races that year, and I only ran about 250 miles all year.

High
I realized at the start of the year that I wouldn’t be able to train consistently.  I also knew this was temporary.  For one year, I put running on the back burner, because my career had to come first.  I was at peace with that.  I was making a sacrifice, but I knew I’d be back in 1988.  I did it on my own terms, so I didn’t have any regrets.

1988

High
I spent most of the year training for the Twin Cities Marathon.  For the first time in my life, I knew what I was doing.  I was following a real training plan.  My training was going well, but it was interrupted by injuries.  First I had plantar fasciitis in one foot.  Then I had it the other foot.  I thought I was finally recovered, but after finishing a 10K race on Labor Day weekend, I was suddenly in so much pain I couldn’t walk.  For the next three weeks, I didn’t run at all.  To maintain some of my fitness, I rode a stationary bike.  Nine days before the marathon, I ran the first of four short training runs to test my foot and my fitness.  My foot felt OK, but I got out of breath on runs that were no longer than seven miles.  I felt stronger with each run, but I didn’t know if I was in good enough shape to finish a marathon.  I didn’t even know for sure if my foot was 100% healed.  In contrast to 1986, I decided to start the race.  I had no time goal.  I didn’t even expect to finish.  I surprised myself.  I ran a consistent pace for the entire race and finished in 3:28:20.  That was a PR by more than 30 minutes, despite all the interruptions of my training.

Low
After my encouraging result at the Twin Cities Marathon, I didn’t want to wait a whole year before running another one.  I made plans to run the St. Louis Marathon, which was the weekend before Thanksgiving.  Betty and John were living in southern Illinois, and we made plans to celebrate Thanksgiving with them.  Deb and I flew to St. Louis, and Betty and John met us there.  The night before the race, a cold front moved through St. Louis.  The thunder made it hard to sleep.  The temperature kept dropping.  As we were walking to the start of the race, the rain started changing to snow.  It was a heavy wet snow that melted on contact.  I didn’t have adequate clothing for these conditions.  I wasn’t expecting it to get this cold, and I wasn’t expecting rain or snow.  This front wasn’t supposed to move through St. Louis until later in the day.  I had tights, but I was wearing a short-sleeved cotton T-shirt.  I had a windbreaker, but it wasn’t waterproof.  I had gloves, but there were cotton.  Once my clothes got wet, I couldn’t stay warm.  I started the race, knowing I could always stop after five miles when the course went past the start area again.  By the time I finished five miles, my clothes were soaked, and there was half an inch of slush in the streets.  I told John I didn’t know if I could finish, but I wasn’t ready to quit yet.  He said, “Good for you.”  Then I continued, knowing I wouldn’t be near our hotel again until the end of the race.  I kept getting colder.  I was keeping my hands warm by repeatedly clenching and unclenching my fists.  Eventually, my fingers got so stiff I couldn’t move them.  I was in stage one of hypothermia.  By the halfway mark, I knew I had to quit.  I wasn’t sure where I could stop and get a ride back to the finish.  Another runner noticed I was looking around and asked if I needed a ride.  His friends were in a car driving alongside of us.  He told me to hop in.  After 14 miles, I stopped running and hopped in the car.  They dropped me off a few blocks from our hotel.  I went inside and drew a hot bath.  My hands and feet were white.  It took several minutes sitting in the hot water before color returned to my hands.  When I was ready, I got dressed and went back outside to find Betty, John and Deb.  They were still watching for me at the finish line.  After that race, I got really sick. This was my first DNF, and it left a bad taste in my mouth.  After that, I always brought clothes for any possible weather, regardless of what the forecast said.  This DNF bothered me so much that it motivated me to finish other races where I was struggling.  It would be 24 years before I had another DNF.

1989

High
There’s a running club in Minnesota called ALARC.  They used to make a group trip to the New York City Marathon every year.  The procedure for entering the marathon was different then.  About half of the entries were first-come, first-served; the rest were awarded through a lottery.  I got in, and we made arrangements to travel to New York with ALARC.  The club negotiated a group discount at our hotel.  We went sightseeing together and did a group training run that included the Queensboro Bridge and Central Park.  It was our first trip to New York.  We went to a Broadway musical, saw the World Trade Center and Empire State Building, rode the Staten Island Ferry, and toured art galleries in SOHO.  The race was a larger than life experience.  The crowds in Brooklyn were great.  We ran through a number of ethnic neighborhoods, each with its own character.  It was like different neighborhoods were completing to see who could cheer us the best.  They brought out their high school bands.  When we got to Manhattan, the crowds were even louder.  My friend Rick, who lives nearby, met Deb, and they went around town to watch for me.  The first time I saw them, I was on 1st Avenue, roughly 17 miles into the race.  Later, they met me at the finish line, and we walked back to the hotel together.

Low
The New York City Marathon was the high point of the year, but in a way it was also the low point.  I trained all year, with a goal of breaking 3:15.  I followed my training program, and I seemed to be ready.  A few weeks before the race I learned that the Boston marathon had changed their qualifying times.  The standard for men under 35 was 3:10.  For the first time, that seemed like an attainable goal.  On the morning of the New York City Marathon, I made an impulsive decision to try to run 3:10, even though I trained all year for 3:15.  All through Brooklyn, I was on pace for 3:10.  The crowds got me pumped up, and it felt easy.  The Queensboro Bridge took something out of me.  By the time I got to Manhattan, it was more difficult to maintain the pace.  Running through Harlem, I was struggling, and by 22 miles, I was falling off the pace.  There’s a small hill where we entered Central Park, and I walked it.  After another mile, I took another walking break.  I wasn’t going to break 3:10, and I also wasn’t going to break 3:15.  When I realized I could still break 3:20, I coaxed myself to run the rest of the way.  I finished in 3:19:49.  That was still a PR, but I had trained all year for 3:15.  I probably could have done it with smart pacing, but I got too greedy.

1990

Low
I was still running one marathon per year.  This was going to be the year I qualified for Boston.  I picked the Twin Cities Marathon, and I trained all year.  My goal was to break 3:10.  My training went according to plan.  The weather was favorable, and I was already familiar with the course.  For most of the race, I was right on pace.  From 20 to 23 miles, there’s a slight uphill trend.  By the time I reached 23 miles, I had fallen off the pace by a few seconds.  I was tiring, and I had an emotional meltdown.  With three miles to go, I gave up on qualifying for Boston.  I gave up on EVER qualifying.  My self-talk was really negative.  I went so far as to tell myself I might run other marathons, but I was done trying to run them fast.  I was starting to use aid stations as excuses to take short walking breaks.  I was expecting an aid station at 25 miles.  When I reached the 25 mile mark, the aid station was still a block away.  I walked to the aid station.  After drinking, I walked a bit farther before running the rest of the way.  I finished in 3:11:10.  As far as I knew, I missed qualifying for Boston by over a minute.  Funny thing about those qualifying times – when the BAA said 3:10, they meant 3:10 and change.  Anything up to 3:10:59 would have been good enough.  I didn’t know it, but I only missed by 11 seconds.  When I thought I fell off the pace at 23 miles, I was still doing fine.  The long walking break at 25 made the difference.  Here’s the worst part.  The next morning, I didn’t even have sore muscles.  That’s when I realized I didn’t push hard enough.  Physically, I was ready.  I forgot that you still need to dig deep in the late miles.  I think I was expecting to break 3:10 just by showing up.  I was really upset with myself for that letdown.

High
After my near miss at the Twin Cities Marathon, I was determined to try again while I was already in shape.  I didn’t feel like the Twin Cities Marathon took too much out of me.  I looked for other fall races, and picked the Seattle Marathon, which was on Thanksgiving weekend.  That was six weeks away.  Three weeks after the Twin Cities Marathon, I did a long training run.  The next weekend, I did a 10 mile race as a final tune-up.  I was ready.  Deb had always wanted to visit Seattle, so it was a chance to combine sightseeing with my BQ attempt.  When we arrived in Seattle, they were in the midst of several consecutive days of rain.  Weather for the race was 50 degrees with steady light rain.  There were deep puddles everywhere.  Having learned from my St. Louis experience two years earlier, I had the right clothes.  I paced myself well in the early miles.  After seven miles, I reached a puddle two wide to step over.  One shoe plunged ankle deep in the water.  A few miles later, I misjudged another large puddle, and the other shoe went into the water.  The waterlogged shoes were heavy, which made me work harder.  Around halfway, I started talking to another runner.  I got distracted and didn’t realize we were slowing down.  By the 15 mile mark, I was a minute behind schedule.  I kept trying to speed up.  I got back on pace, but couldn’t make up the lost minute.  My calves felt like they were tied up in knots.  Each mile I worked harder, but the pace was always the same.  I needed to make up a minute, but I was running out of miles.  With five miles to go, I pushed hard to pick up the pace.  I didn’t think my effort was sustainable, but I had to try.  I was clawing back about 15 seconds with each mile.  I kept up the effort, one mile at a time.  I finished in 3:09:47.  I got my first Boston qualifier, and I was proud of how hard I pushed myself in the late miles.

1991

High
Naturally, after qualifying, I had to run the Boston Marathon.  In April, Deb and I traveled to Boston.  It was our first time there, so we had to do lots of shopping and sightseeing, including everything along the Freedom Trail.  My friend Rick drove to Boston to join us.  The day before the race, I took a bus tour of the course, while Deb went shopping with Rick.  Long bathroom lines, GI problems, and congestion along the course combined to make the first half of the race slow.  When I reached Newton, I was able to recognize each hill from the course tour.  I still had fresh legs, so I finished better than I started.  Overall, it wasn’t my best race, but it was like a victory lap for qualifying.


Low
After the Boston Marathon, I did several shorter races.  Throughout this part of my schedule, I was starting to experience shin splints, but I endured the pain to keep training and racing.  After running Grandma’s Marathon in June, I had to take a break from running.  In the second half of the year, I only did one race.  That was a race-walk event.  I didn’t resume any serious running until winter.

1992

High
It’s hard to pick any one highlight for 1992, but it would have to be Grandma’s Marathon.  I wasn’t originally planning to do that race.  My goal for the first half of the year was to set a new 10K PR.  I wanted to average six minute miles in a 10K race.  I started training indoors.  I kept doing three mile workouts until I could run three miles in 18 minutes.  Then I stepped up to 3.75 miles at the same pace.  Then I ran 4.5 miles at the same pace.  Then I started racing.  My first three races of the year were 8K, 7 miles, and 5K.  Those were supposed to be tune-ups, but I set PRs at each of those distances.  I was planning to do up to three 10K races.  The first was a tune-up.  The second would be a serious PR attempt.  The third would be another chance, in case I had an off day in the second race.  As it turns out, I ran the first 10K race in 36:57.  (My official time was 37:03, but that was before chip timing.  I’m excluding the six second it took to reach the starting line.)  It was still April, and I already reached my goal for 10K.  I still had time to train for Grandma’s Marathon, so I quickly entered the race.  I built my long runs up to 26.25 miles.  I also ran a half marathon.  My goal at Grandma’s was to break 3:10.  I accidently started on pace for three hours and decided to go for it.  Not only did I keep up the pace, but I ran negative splits, finishing in 2:58:17.  I never imagined I was ready to break three hours.  Looking back at my training and my performances in all those shorter races, it now seems obvious I was ready.

Low
I’ll never know if I could have improved my marathon time.  I was aiming for another PR at the Marine Corps Marathon, but my training was hampered by shin splits.  I went out at a fast pace on a windy day, but without sufficient training, the pace wore me down.  After that, I took some time off.  I was planning to start taking night classes in the spring, so I didn’t expect to have time to train for more marathons.  Over the winter I stopped running and gained weight.  It would be several years before I lost the weight and trained as seriously.  By then, I was past my prime.

1993

High
I wasn’t originally planning to run any marathons in 1993.  Then I found out my friend Bill was going to run Grandma’s Marathon.  It was his first marathon.  I knew I couldn’t be in shape to run fast, but I thought I might still be able to whip myself into good enough shape to run with Bill.  I registered for the race, but I didn’t tell Bill.  The day before the race, I stood in line with Bill as he picked up his race packet.  He was surprised to see me picking up my race packet too.  We ran the entire race together at Bill’s pace.  Bill assumed I was slowing down to pace him, but I don’t think I could have run too much faster on my own.  It was fun sharing this experience.

Low
I ran two more marathons that year, but I was using those as long training runs for the Edmund Fitzgerald 100K.  Ed Fitz, as it was known affectionately to local runners, was going to be my first ultramarathon.  I never got to the starting line.  By the time I ran the Walker/North Country Marathon, I was experiencing pain in both shins.  After that race, the pain was worse.  After doing very little training over the next two weeks, I ran the Twin Cities Marathon.  The pain was almost unbearable.  Then I saw a doctor and found out I had stress fractures in both legs.  I had to abandon my plans to run Ed Fitz.  I was carrying some extra weight and wondered if that contributed to the injury.  More likely, it was ramping up too quickly after taking a break the previous winter.  I got discouraged and didn’t attempt another ultra for five years.

1994

Low
I didn’t run any marathons in 1994.  It was also the first year since 1987 that I ran less than 1,000 total miles.  There were a variety of reasons I didn’t run as much.  I spent the winter months healing from my stress fractures.  I was taking night classes.  I started a new job with a longer commute, so my work days were longer.  I was also dealing with a lot of personal issues.  Mostly, though, I just didn’t have the motivation.  I occasionally got out for a run, but without a marathon on the horizon, I wasn’t really training.

High
By September, I knew I wasn’t going to reach 1,000 miles for the year.  Looking at how many weeks I had left, I realized I could still get to 800 if I ran 30 miles per week.  I had been averaging only 10 miles a week so far, so that was a big step up.  I nevertheless committed to it.  For the rest of the year, I ran a minimum of 30 miles each week, and I finished the year with 823 miles.

1995

Low
In June, I drove to Duluth to watching Grandma’s Marathon.  It was the first time in seven years that I wasn’t racing that weekend.  The weekend of Grandma’s Marathon was like a major holiday to me.  There was Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s and Grandma’s Marathon.  When I wasn’t doing the marathon, I ran one of the shorter races.  This year, I went up to Duluth just to watch the marathon.  It felt weird.  As I watched the runners, I kept thinking, “That should be me.  I should be out there.  How come I’m not running?”

High
After Grandma’s Marathon, I decided to start running marathons again, even if I wasn’t in peak shape.  There were two other marathons in Minnesota that year, and I ran both of them.  I finished the Walker/North Country Marathon in 4:20:39.  Two weeks later, I ran the Twin Cities Marathon in 3:54:21.

1996

Low
After running two marathons in 1995, I went back to running only sporadically for the first half of the year.  I still had a long commute, and I was still taking night classes.  Sometimes, the only way I could find time to run was to go for a run on my lunch hour.  When I wasn’t training for a marathon, I didn’t get serious about running consistently.

High
In October, I ran the Twin Cities Marathon with John.  It was John’s second marathon, and his goal was to break 3:30.  I paced him, and we both broke 3:30.  After being out of shape for three years, it was nice to finally be in good enough shape that I could break 3:30 without an all-out effort.

1997

High
I was now in the 35-39 age group, so I could qualify for Boston with a time of 3:15.  I wanted to prove to myself that I could still do it.  I trained hard and lost about 10 pounds.  Then I returned to Grandma's Marathon.  Weather was reasonable at the start of the race, but then the wind shifted, bringing hotter temperatures.  By then, I was far enough into the race that I could endure the hotter temperatures for the remaining miles.  I finished in 3:14:01, giving me my first Boston qualifier since 1992.

Low
In October, I ran Twin Cities Marathon again.  A week before the race, it looked like the weather would be favorable for running, or at least reasonable.  Every day, the forecast was revised upward.  By race morning, it was pretty obvious it was going to be a hot one.  By the time I reached the West River Parkway, the heat was already beginning to wear on me.  There was an aid station there with gel packets.  I had never tried a gel during a race, preferring to get all my sugar from sports drinks.  It’s not generally a good idea to try something new on race day, but I didn’t think I had much to lose.  The heat was already forcing me to slow down.  After eating the gel, I looked for water table.  I was already past them.  Who lays out an aid station with water first and gels last?  I couldn’t wash it down.  I had to run the next two miles with a sticky pasty sensation in my mouth.  At the next aid station, I had to drink three cups before my mouth no longer felt sticky.  Then I felt bloated and had to take a walking break.

1998

High
If I could re-live one year of my life, it would be 1998.  That was the year I ran my first ultra.  It was also the year I embarked on my goal of running marathons in all 50 states.  Lots of other good things happened.  It was the year the Minnesota Vikings went 15-1 and broke the NFL scoring record.  It was also the year Deb and I paid off our mortgage.  That made it possible for me to cut back to working part-time while I trained for my first ultra.  While there were many highlights, the one that stands out is my first ultra, the FANS 24-Hour Run.  I raised my training to a new level and got into the best shape of my life.  Then I overcame severe weather and a few other problems to run 111.2 miles in 24 hours.  A detailed account of that race can be found in this Throwback Thursday post.

Low
Can a race where you set a PR be considered a low point?  Three months after FANS, I ran the Olander Park 24-Hour Run.  This was the 24-hour national championship event, so the best 24-hour runners in the country were all there.  I went into the race believing I could run 130 miles.  I started the race at a pace that was only slightly faster than the pace I needed to average.  After two hours, I was still in the bottom half of the field.  I kept running at the same pace.  Everyone else slowed down.  Every hour, I climbed the leader board.  By the time I reached 100 miles, I was in 6th place among the men.  I was still on pace to run something in the mid 130s.  My quads were getting increasingly sore.  I was using a run/walk pacing strategy, and it was getting increasingly difficult to transition from walking to running.  I took some ibuprofen, but it doesn’t take effect immediately.  Unable to stand the pain, I decided to walk until the ibuprofen kicked in.  For reasons I did not yet understand, my long walking break actually made my legs more sore and stiff.  After that, the ibuprofen didn’t provide enough relief.  I walked for the rest of the race and finished with 118.97 miles.  That was a PR, but I always wondered what could have been.  Here’s what I eventually learned when I had more experience.  When you’re exerting yourself, you generate enough endorphins to suppress a fair amount of pain.  When I took a long walking break, I relaxed too much for too long.  I wasn’t generating as many endorphins.  Now instead of only feeling some of the pain, I could feel all of it.  Instead, I should have picked up my effort.  That would have suppressed more of the pain, allowing me to keep running.  That strategy only works if you have the energy to sustain the increased effort.  Here’s the irony.  I wasn’t getting tired yet.  The only thing holding me back was the soreness in my muscles.  I actually had enough energy to pick up my effort.  If only I had known then what I know now.  If I could re-live one day of 1998, it would be this one, so I could change the way I finished that race.  If I could re-live two days of 1998, it would be this one, plus the day Randy Moss had 190 receiving yards for the Vikings against the Green Bay Packers.

1999

Low
I started the year with an ankle injury.  I made it worse by running the Las Vegas Marathon.  Then I had to take a break from running, so my ankle could heal.  I managed to finish the Big Sur Marathon with minimal training, but then I made an impulsive decision to do the FANS 24-Hour Run again.  I was nowhere near trained for this race, and I knew that.  I knew I couldn’t run as far as I did in 1998, but I didn’t have any idea what I could realistically do.  I did well in 1998, in part because I had realistic goals and a reasonable plan for pacing myself to reach those goals.  In 1999, I had no idea what my goal should be, so I just started running.  I thought I could just go by how I felt.  I was wrong.  In a 24-hour race, you can start at a pace that feels really easy, but still be going way too fast.  You have to be disciplined.  To be disciplined, you have to have a plan, and that starts with having a realistic goal.  I had no goal, no plans and no clue.  I started too fast.  The weather this year was much hotter.  After only 20 miles, I was already crashing and burning.  When that happens in a marathon, you’re looking at an hour of uncomfortable running.  When it happens in a 24-hour race, you’re looking at 20 hours of uncomfortable running (or walking).  In the afternoon, I started getting short of breath.  I was experiencing heat stress.  I plunged into Lake Nokomis to cool myself off.  That brought my core temperature down, but triggered some painful abdominal cramps.  I had trouble crawling out of the lake.  After drying off, I felt much better.  I resumed running and felt good as new for the first mile or two.  Then I went back to feeling like crap.  I stopped after about 60 miles.  I took a long break and went indoors to cool off, I eventually returned to the course to run seven more miles.  After running 111 miles in 1998, doing just 67 in 1999 was disappointing.

High
By October, I was finally getting back to peak condition.  That was just in time for the Chicago Marathon.  Deb and I took a vacation in Chicago, which included the Sears Tower, Navy Pier, the Magnificent Mile, a temporary exhibit called “Cows on Parade,” and, of course, Chicago-style pizza.  I finished the marathon in 3:21:19, just missing a Boston qualifier.  An unexpected thrill was learning during the race that the winner set a new World Record.

2000

High
I returned to FANS again.  This year I was better prepared.  By midnight, I had climbed to third place among the men.  I went through a bad patch during the night, but I put on a strong finish to hold onto third place with 112.49 miles.  It wasn’t a PR, but it was the highest I had ever placed in a race.

Low
One week after FANS, I went for a run and experienced a sharp pain in my foot.  It was plantar fasciitis.  I suspect my training did most of the damage, and the race was the last straw.  I didn’t do another race that year.  It was almost a year before I could do any serious training.

2001

Low
Just like in 1999, I made an impulsive decision to do the FANS 24-Hour Run, even though I was just beginning to get back in shape.  This time I had realistic goals.  I knew I wouldn’t be able to run 100 miles, but if I could do 90 miles, it would put me within striking distance of 500 lifetime miles at FANS.  I wanted to get there in five years, and this was my 4th year.  Halfway through the race, I started having a pain in the front of my ankle.  It wasn’t severe – yet – but it was reminiscent of the injury that sidelined me for a few months in 1999.  Not wanting to jeopardize of chances of running the Pike’s Peak Marathon, I stopped after 55.83 miles.

High
In less than four months, I went from out of shape, to finishing the Pike’s Peak Marathon.  This race climbs from 6,300 feet to just over 14,000 feet in the first half.  Then you turn around and descend.  The average grade is roughly 11 percent.  There aren’t any mountains where I live, so I did all my training on a treadmill.  I got used to running or walking on steep grades for up the three hours non-stop.  I knew I wouldn’t be prepared for the elevation, but I wanted to be prepared for the relentless climb.  It worked.  I reached the summit in a respectable 3:49.  I didn’t do any downhill training, however.  I took for granted that if I could reach the summit, I could eventually make my way back down.  It was slow and painful, but I did it, finishing the race in 6:23:07.


2002

Low
In March, I ran the Shamrock Marathon in Virginia Beach.  This race has a flat course, and I was hoping to qualify for Boston.  The forecast called for warm temperatures, but I was also expecting a cool breeze off the ocean.  I started at a fast pace, not realizing it was going to get up to 80 degrees.  The cool breeze never materialized.  As the heat began to wear on me, I started to back off the pace, but the damage was done.  Just past the halfway mark, I started having symptoms of heat stress.  For the rest of the race, I alternated running and walking.  My experience from hot weather ultras made it possible for me to finish, but the second half of this race was unpleasant.

High
I wanted to qualify for Boston every time I moved into a new age group.  The qualifying time for the 40-45 age group was 3:20.  After several failed attempts, I decided to try the Tucson Marathon, which is slightly downhill for almost the entire race.  On that course, I had no trouble qualifying.  I finished in 3:16:59.

2003

High
After doing the FANS 24-Hour Race in 1998-2001 and the FANS 12-Hour Race in 2002, I returned to do the 24-hour race again.  I went in thinking I could compete for a top place, but realized after 12 hours that my pace was unsustainable.  Rather than crashing and burning, I backed off to a sustainable pace, to make sure I would get to 100 miles.  I finished with 103.19 miles.  After the race, I was inducted into the FANS 500 mile club.

Low
In November, Deb and I took a vacation in Pennsylvania that included Gettysburg, Hershey and Lancaster.  I was almost halfway through my quest to run marathons in all 50 states.  This trip was scheduled around the Harrisburg Marathon.  I had a bad cold during this trip, which took some of the fun out of our sightseeing.  I had a painful sore throat and a deep cough.  Both of these symptoms were aggravated by temperatures in the 30s.  The night before the race, we stayed at a hotel in downtown Harrisburg.  On the floor below us, a division of marines was having a party to celebrate their return from Iraq.  The band was set up right below our room, and the party went all through the night.  Between my cold and the noise, I couldn’t sleep at all.  I’m not a confrontational person, but during the night I went downstairs wearing only jeans, an undershirt, and socks.  I walked into the middle of the party and had words with their colonel.  He wouldn’t budge and was completely unapologetic.  Needless to say, I got no sleep that night.  By the time I had to get up, I felt like I was at death’s door.  I really didn’t feel like running.  It didn’t help that I had to walk a mile to the start, and the temperature was just above freezing.  I told Deb I was seriously considering staying in bed.  Deb, who normally encourages me to take rest days, said, “We flew all the way to Pennsylvania so you could do this race.  Get your butt out there and run.”  Dragging myself through that race was a hellish experience, but I finished.

2004

High
In May, I ran the Wyoming Marathon in the Laramie Mountains.  This race has a hilly course, with elevations ranging from 8,000 to 8,800 feet.  I set a goal of 4:22 (10 minutes per mile), knowing the key would be careful pacing.  The race has three long downhill segments and three long uphill segments.  Going downhill, I did a slow steady run.  Going uphill, I alternated between four minutes of running and two minutes of walking.  There was a brutal wind chill on one part of the course, and I sometimes had to skip walking breaks in an effort to stay warm.  On the final uphill stretch, I had to do some extra walking, but I still finished in 4:05:12.  That was good for 5th place overall.

Low
At the beginning of July, I went for a run.  I was in a hurry and didn’t bother to do any stretching.  Right away, I noticed one of my Achilles tendons felt tight.  I didn’t think it was a big deal.  The farther I ran, the worse it felt.  I slowed down, but it got worse.  After 3.3 miles, I turned around.  I was running an out-and-back route, so I still had to run another 3.3 miles to get home.  By the time I got home, I could barely walk, much less run.  It was the worst case of Achilles tendonitis I’ve ever had.  I was sidelined for the rest of the month, and I didn’t get all the way back to normal training until November.

2005

Low
In May, I ran the Fargo Marathon.  Conditions were cold and wet.  The weather was almost identical to the 1988 St. Louis Marathon, where I had a DNF.  I finished the race in 3:32:07.  The wet conditions didn’t help, but I was discouraged that I couldn’t break 3:30, despite a fairly flat course.  I had long regarded 3:30 as the dividing line between a good race and a disappointing race.  In my lifetime win-loss record, this one went into the loss column.

High
I learned about a fixed time race in Kansas called the Patriots’ Run.  It was held each year on September 11.  The race started at noon and finished at 9:11 PM, giving you 9 hours and 11 minutes to run as far as you could.  I wasn’t really doing ultramarathon training, but I made a last minute decision to enter the race.  Two weeks before the race, I did a long training run.  My intent was to run for five or six hours, taking regular walking breaks.  I wilted in summer heat on an 80 degree day.  Even with walking breaks, I could only manage four hours.  I decided to dial back my goals for the race.  On race day, it was 90 degrees and sunny.  Knowing I wasn’t prepared for that, I started conservatively.  After a few hours, I realized my pace wasn’t sustainable, and I slowed down.  A few of the faster runners had already lapped me two or three times.  By the time I finished enough laps to equal a marathon, I was really struggling with heat and fatigue.  I wasn’t having fun.  I decided to keep going until I had completed 43 laps.  That would get me to 50K.  Then I would stop.  When I finally got to 50K, I asked my lap counter how many laps the leader had.  She flipped through her sheets and said, “Number 138 has 43 laps.”  I looked down at my shirt.  I was wearing number 138.  I was winning.  Stunned by this news, I started running another lap.  I told myself, “You can’t quit while you’re winning.”  By the end of that lap, I made three decisions.  First, I was going to keep running as long as I was in the lead.  Second, the moment someone passed me, I was done.  Third, I wouldn’t slow down.  If someone was going to catch me, they would have to earn it.  I started having painful spasms in my calves.  They felt like electric shocks and actually made me jump.  I doubled my salt intake.  That kept my cramps from getting worse, but they never went away.   I fought through the pain to maintain my pace.  Only completed laps counted, so I started paying close attention to my lap times.  It kept looking like I would be just short of having time to complete a 66th lap.  I could do it if I skipped the walking break between by 65th and 66th laps.  If I was going to win, I wanted to go as far as I could.  As I finished lap 64, Deb asked me if I had time for another lap.  I said, “I think I have time for two.”   I finished both laps, giving me a total of 48.06 miles.  It was the first race I ever won.  At the awards ceremony, I learned the second place runner was only one lap behind me.


2006

Low
Early in the year, I ran the Mardi Gras Marathon in New Orleans.  I paced myself for 3:30.  It’s a pretty fast course, but I was barely hanging on in the second half.  I finished in 3:28:47.  Afterwards, I had to wonder, “How much longer can I break 3:30?”  I trained hard, I paced well, I raced hard, and it was a fast course.  Still, I just barely did it.

High
Over the summer, I lost 15 pounds.  I also started biking on the days I wasn’t running.  I was only running every other day, so that effectively doubled my training.  That took my training to a whole new level.  In September, I ran the Clarence Demar Marathon in 3:19:43.  I was now in the 45-49 age group, so I only needed 3:30 to qualify for Boston.  Earlier in the year, when I needed 3:20, I could barely break 3:30.  Now that I only needed 3:30, I could suddenly break 3:20 again.  Prior to turning 45, I had qualified for Boston only four times in 47 attempts.  After turning 45, I qualified 42 times in my next 45 attempts.

2007

High
Encouraged by my race results in late 2006, I decided to give the FANS 24-Hour Run another try.  I came in with my best fitness ever.  My goal was to win.  I assumed I might need equal or exceed the course record, which was 136 miles.  Based on my training, that seemed feasible if everything went right.  (That NEVER happens.)  As it got closer to the race, I saw several top-notch runners were signed up.  It seemed feasible, on paper, that I could break the course record and still not place in the top five.  Of course, anybody can have a bad day.  It’s all too common for runners to pace themselves poorly or have medical problems.  If I ran the race I was capable of running, I had a chance.  Then Paul Hasse signed up.  Paul was a former winner of the event.  He’s also one of the runners who gave me advice before my first FANS race.  He’s disciplined.  I knew he wasn’t likely to go out too fast and blow up.  I couldn’t see myself beating Paul, so I set my sights on second place.  I started out right on pace for 136 miles.  Paul went out a little bit faster.  All the other big guns went out even faster.  After about eight hours, neither Paul nor I were on the leader board, even though we both on pace to break the course record.  Eventually, most of the fast runners faded.  Then I began to fade too.  I went through a “bad patch” during which I felt sluggish.  I had to do more walking until I figured out what was wrong.  I was overhydrating, resulting in a mild case of dilutional hyponatremia.  I cut back on my fluid intake and began to feel better.  In the late hours, I picked up my pace again.  By now, Paul was in the lead.  I quickly moved up to second place, but I still trailed Paul by seven miles.  With an hour or two to go, I congratulated Paul on his victory.  I held on for second place.  I finished with 124.81 miles, which is still my PR.


Low
In October, I ran the Twin Cities Marathon.  My training was going well, and I was ready to challenge the three hour barrier.  The weather was supposed to be somewhat warm, but with overcast skies.  I thought a fast time was feasible.  At the start, I noticed the skies were clear.  I started fast, but quickly felt like I was overheating.  I gradually started to back off, but it kept getting hotter.  I kept slowing down, but I was still overheating.  It turned out to be much hotter than I expected.  It was the same day the Chicago Marathon was cancelled because of the heat.  I didn’t know it at the time, but the temperature reached 79 degrees during the race.  The organizers were going to cancel the race if it got up to 80.  These conditions are manageable, if you pace yourself accordingly.  I didn’t.  I blew up.  Going into this race, I had a streak of six consecutive Boston qualifiers.  That streak ended.

2008

Low
One of my goals for 2008 was to do a 100 mile trail run.  I picked the Umstead 100, which is tailor made for beginners.  The course is a 12.5 mile loop that you run eight times.  They also have a 50 mile race, which consists of four loops.  If you start the 100 and complete at least four loops, but don’t complete all eight, you’re automatically listed with the 50 mile finishers.  During the winter months, I did all my training on a treadmill.  Although there are no mountains in this race, it still has a number of hills.  I studied the elevation profile and programmed my treadmill to simulate the hills.  There’s just one problem with that.  My treadmill could simulate running uphill, but not downhill.  I didn’t get outdoors to run on real hills until the last two weeks before the race.  That gave me just enough time to beat up my quads, but not enough time to adapt.  I start the race with sore quads.  By the time I finished the first two laps, my legs were so sore I was almost in tears.  The uphills were no problem, but the downhills were beating me up.  I took two ibuprofen.  That helped a little, but not enough.  After my third lap, I took two more ibuprofen.  That didn’t even make a dent in the pain.  As I start my fourth lap, I quickly realized it would be my last.  I was a 50 miler finisher, but was still looking for my first 100 mile finish.

High
After failing to finish 100 miles at Umstead, I tried again at the Lean Horse 100.  By now, it was late summer, and I had several months of outdoor training under my belt.  Lean Horse is mostly rails-to-trails.  It’s a runnable surface with long gradual hills, but nothing steep.  I studied the elevation profile and came up with different pacing plans for different sections of the course.  My primary goal was to break 20 hours.  My most ambitious goal was to break 18 hours, which would allow me to finish before midnight.  I ran a strong race, reaching the turnaround in less than nine hours.  It’s net uphill going out and net downhill coming back, so I had a realistic shot at 18 hours.  With 30 miles to go, I still had a shot, but I had to stop taking walking breaks.  By the time I reached the last aid station, I had climbed into third place, but I was no longer on pace to break 18 hours.  A wrong turn in the last few miles ended any chance of making up the time.  I finished third overall in a time of 18:09:46.  I also earned this belt buckle, made with Black Hills gold.


2009

High
For my Georgia race, I was going to do the Tybee Island Marathon.  I don’t usually book flights before entering a race, but I saw a good airfare to Savannah, so I booked our flights before registration was open.  Registration never opened.  The race was cancelled.  I contacted Tom Adair, who put me in touch with Scott Ludwig.  Scott was one of the founders of the Darkside Running Club, which was based in Peachtree City, GA.  They have a certified course on which they hold marathons for club members.  In addition to their three annual marathons, they decided to hold a one-time event on the day the Tybee Island Marathon was supposed to be held.  Instead of going to Savannah and Tybee Island, Deb and I traveled to Atlanta and Peachtree City.  I got to run my Georgia marathon, but more importantly, I became a member of the Darkside Running Club.  Since then, I’ve gone back to run several Darkside races.

Low
I enjoyed the Lean Horse 100 so much in 2008, I decided to go back.  This time, it was much hotter, I didn’t bring enough electrolyte pills, and I didn’t have a crew.  After only 35 miles, I was suffering from cramps and heat stress.  I almost dropped out right there.  After a short break, I persuaded myself to keep going, taking it one aid station at a time.  Just past 40 miles, I collapsed on the trail.  Five miles later, I almost collapsed again.  With the help of another runner’s crew, I eventually recovered.  I went on to finish, but I was almost five hours slower than the year before.

2010

High
From 1998 to 2010, I was gradually chipping away at my goal of running marathons in all 50 states.  I finished at the Vermont City Marathon in Burlington.  Deb and I had a great vacation in Burlington and Waterbury.  After the race, we went to a party for members of the 50 States Marathon Club.  I was one of two runners celebrating our first finish of 50 states.  The other was Tamara Smith of Ohio.  This was the perfect way to celebrate reaching this goal.


Low
In July, I ran the University of Okoboji Marathon in Iowa.  I knew hot weather was a possibility in a July race, but it was much worse than I imagined.  It got into the 90s during the race.  I got through the first half feeling OK.  Then there was a three mile stretch that was sun-exposed and had no aid stations.  After that, I struggled.  In the last seven miles, I cracked like an egg.  This race ended a streak of seven consecutive Boston qualifiers.

2011

High
I had a lot of good races in 2011, including five marathons with times under 3:10.  My highlight, however, was the Firecracker Triple.  This was my first triple (three marathons in three days).  I went in with modest expectations, but got faster each day.  I ran the first race in 3:26:43, the second in 3:22:53, and the third in 3:18:10.  On day three, I was running on pure emotion.  I had the lowest combined time for the triple.


Low
In September, I ran the Tahoe Triple.  These races aren’t for the faint of heart.  They’re full of big hills.  I went into the triple with a slight hamstring pull in one leg.  The first race started with three miles of steep descent.  That made my leg worse.  I started the second race with an Ace bandage around my injured thigh.  The first half of the race was downhill.  By the time I reached the halfway mark, I had a pulled hamstring in the other leg as well.  I actually considered stopping to move the bandage from one leg to the other.  After limping through the second half of that race, I went to the drug store to buy another Ace bandage.  I also bought 30 pounds of ice.  I was finally desperate enough to take an ice bath for the first time in my life.  You can’t do the first two races of the Tahoe Triple and then quit!  I started the third race with both legs wrapped fairly tight.  My upper legs were almost completely immobilized.  I had to run using mostly my calves and shins.  The best pace I could manage was 11 minutes per mile.  It didn’t matter if it was uphill, downhill or flat.  I only had one gear.  I eventually finished that race, but it was my second slowest marathon to date.

2012

Low
Ever since I started running ultras, I was intrigued by the Western States 100.  In 2012, I finally got into the race.  Early in the year, I had another hamstring injury.  I recovered before Western States, but didn’t do anywhere near enough terrain-specific training.  I was in over my head.  I might have been able to finish within the 30 hour time limit if I paced myself that way from the start.  I didn’t.  I was trying to finish within 24 hours, to get the silver belt buckle.  This race has several long steep descents.  I took the early descents too fast and beat up my quads.  After 15 miles, I was already starting to feel some soreness in my quads.  By the time I reached the canyons, it was much worse.  I could barely walk downhill, much less run.  My pace got slower and slower, and I knew I would inevitably miss a cut-off.  When I reached Michigan Bluff (55.7 miles), it was already after dark.  Faced with the prospect of running into another canyon in the dark with no stability in my legs, I decided it wasn’t prudent to continue.  I wasn’t just disappointed with the DNF.  I also felt like I let everyone down.  John was there to crew for me, and another runner was going to pace me from Foresthill to the finish.  It’s not like I could go back and try again the next year.  You have to qualify and enter a lottery.  It can take years before your name is drawn in the lottery.

High
Over Labor Day weekend, I ran the Flatlanders 6-Hour Rune in Fenton, MO.  Fenton is a suburb of St. Louis.  I’ve always liked fixed time races, and I found a ridiculously cheap flight to St. Louis.  I paced well, and I seemed to be among the leaders.  I didn’t know exactly how many laps the other runners had, but I thought I had a shot at winning my age group.  When the race was over, I discovered I won.  Ever since my DNF in the 1988 St. Louis Marathon, I wanted to come back to St. Louis and have a good race to make up for it.  This was it.


2013

High
I had so much fun at the Firecracker Triple in 2011 that I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to run the Firecracker Quadzilla.  It was my first quadzilla (four marathons in four days).  I set an ambitious goal of breaking 3:30 all four days, even though I didn’t know if I was still in good enough shape to do it three days in a row.  I got a little carried away in the first race, finishing in 3:24:01.  On day two, it took effort to finish in 3:27:23.  I ran the third race like there was no tomorrow, and I finished in 3:24:18.  I paid for it on day four.  From the outset, I felt like I was hitting the wall.  I fought to hold the pace for as long as I could, but eventually I faded.  I finished in 3:38:28.  While I didn’t break 3:30 four days in a row, I did keep my average time under 3:30.  I was happy with that.


Low
During the Twin Cities Marathon I had a minor hamstring pull.  While it wasn’t that severe of an injury, I had no time to heal.  Over the next 10 weeks, I had 18 more marathons.  I was also making my final push to qualify for Boston in all 50 states.  On the weekends I wasn’t running two, three or four marathons, I was doing races where I was counting on qualifying for Boston.  I was racing on the weekends, but resting during the week.  There were weekends where I struggled to finish my races, but I kept coming up with big efforts in the ones where I needed Boston qualifiers.  I went into my last marathon of the year needing a BQ in the Hoover Dam Marathon, so I could get my last remaining state: Nevada.  For the first time since the injury, I was able to run hills without consciously holding back.  Unfortunately, 10 weeks of racing without training had taken their toll.  I was no longer in good enough shape to qualify for Boston on a hilly course.  I faded badly in the second half, missing my goal by almost 20 minutes.

2014

High
After failing to qualify for Boston at the Hoover Dam Marathon, I had to find another Nevada race.  My next chance was at the running From an Angel Marathon in January.  This course is twice as hilly as Hoover Dam.  If I couldn’t do it there, it would keep getting tougher.  Each Nevada race was about twice as difficult as the one before it.  I struggled in the second half.  I almost gave up, but I kept fighting.  I finished in 3:29:01.  That was cutting it close.  I had Boston qualifiers in every state!

Low
From July 4th through December 13th, I ran 34 marathons or ultras.  The whole time, I was actually training for the Across the Years 48-Hour Run.  My goal was to run 200 miles in 48 hours.  That’s an ambitious goal.  To have any chance, I needed to do the whole race without sleep.  I planned to alternate between slow running and fast walking.  The faster I could walk, the less I needed to run.  This was critical, as walking and running emphasize different muscle groups, and I needed to keep my running muscles fresh.  In December, I had another mild hamstring pull.  I felt it most when I tried to walk at a fast pace.  I still did the race, but I couldn’t go too fast, either walking or running.  Because I couldn’t walk fast, I had to spend more time running, which wore me down.  At the coldest hour of the morning, a winter storm moved through, bringing rain and strong winds.  Having just reached the 100 mile mark, I decided to call it a day, or in this case, two days.

2015

High
I had recently joined a new running club called Marathon Globetrotters.  This club is for runners who want to run marathons in as many different countries as possible.  They held their first annual meeting in The Bahamas, on the weekend of Marathon Bahamas.  Aside from being a vacation in The Bahamas, it was a chance to make new friends.  It was the first time dozens of club members were all at the same race.  On Saturday, we had a club meeting, where we adopted the club’s Bylaws and elected officers.  On Sunday, we ran the marathon.  The mostly out-and-back course gave us all a chance to see each other during the race.  Conditions were hot and humid.  I could have used that as an excuse to take it easy, but instead I fought hard all the way.  I qualified for Boston and won my age group.


Low
In early May I suffered a groin strain in my right leg.  I needed six to eight weeks to heal.  I already had dozens of races scheduled, including several international trips.  I didn’t have any good choices.  On one hand, I could cancel a bunch of races, and eat thousands of dollars in travel costs.  I would also have to give up on several long-term goals.  On the other hand, I could keep racing with an injury that would probably get worse.  I chose to keep racing.  By the end of the year, I had additional health problems.  At times, the groin strain in my right leg was overshadowed by other issues, but that was the injury that started everything.  I reached my goals, but paid a price.  From September on, all my marathon times were between five and six hours.  I’m finally done racing, but I don’t know how long it will take to heal.