Texas Quad, Day 2: The Waddle

Today was the second day of the Texas Quad.  Today’s race was called “The Waddle.”  After breaking four hours yesterday, I knew I’d be slower today.  I woke up with a certain amount of stiffness and soreness.

Yesterday, I wanted to compete for the win.  Today, I had no illusions about that.  My friend Justin was here, and I knew he’d win by a wide margin.  At the start of today’s race, I mainly wanted to finish.  I’ve run with tired legs before, so the delayed-onset muscle soreness wasn’t going to deter me.  My biggest concern was my left leg.  I didn’t know if yesterday’s race would make it worse.  I just had to start running and find out.

The temperature range wasn’t as wide today.  When I got up, it was already 54 degrees.  The temperature at the start was about 10 degrees warmer than yesterday, but it wasn’t going to warm up much.  I was originally planning to wear tights to keep my legs warm, but I made a last-minute decision to wear shorts.

Just like yesterday, we lined up according to our bib numbers, with runners expecting to break five hours lining up in front.  I still expected to break five hours, so I was still near the front.  I just wasn’t right at the starting line.

As I started running, my legs just didn’t want to move.  Mostly, they were sore, but they were also cold.  I eased into running gradually, while I waited for my legs to warm up.

Before long, I started running with Greg.  Neither of us was trying to run fast.  We ran together for the rest of the first lap.

During the second lap, I started taking pictures of the course.  The first time I stopped, Greg walked until I caught up.  As I stopped to take more pictures, he started running with Ken, and I fell farther and farther behind them.  For the next few laps, I ran by myself.

We could run on either the concrete path, or the adjacent gravel trail.  The measured route was always the shortest path.  Most of the time that was the concrete, but there was one place where the concrete path began to meander, while the gravel trail went straight.  That was the only place I ran on the gravel, as I generally prefer a firm surface.

Shortly before the turnaround, we ran underneath a bridge.  You could tell how far you were from the turnaround by looking for the bridge.

Just after the bridge, we ran over a footbridge across a drainage canal.  From there, you could see the turnaround.

I had a painful blister on the ball of my left foot.  It was most painful on sharp turns, so I briefly slowed to a walk whenever I made the 180-degree turn.

Coming back, it was harder to tell how far you were from the start/finish area.  It was between two bridges, but you couldn’t see them until you were close.  You had to get around a few bends in the river first.

When you can see this bridge, you know you’re getting close.

At the end of the lap, we had to go up a hill.  Some people walked this hill.  I always ran it, but I always slowed down here.

When I finished my second lap, I stopped to put away my camera.  We had the same views in every lap, so I didn’t need to take any more pictures.  As I crossed the start/finish line, I looked at my watch for the first time.  I was on pace for roughly 4:26.

I always assumed I would start taking walking breaks at some point, but the wind started to pick up, and I felt like I would get too cold if I walked.  I continued running, but at a pace that was noticeably slower than yesterday.

Midway through my third lap, I caught up to Greg again.  He was taking a walking break while talking to another runner.  After I passed Greg, there were just three other runners ahead of me.

Running the whole way was tiring, but I was now resigned to it.  I was barely managing to keep warm enough.  I started to wonder if I could catch more runners if I kept running.

The next runner ahead of me was Renee.  I could see her ahead of me and spent the rest of the third lap and all of the fourth lap trying to gain ground on her.

In the RunningRagged 20in20 Series, I placed in the top three every day.  I also placed in the top three yesterday.  That’s a streak of 21 consecutive races with podium finishes.  I started today’s race without a goal, but now I wanted to see if I could extend that streak to 22.

As I finished my fourth lap, I was just about to catch up to Renee.  Then I stopped to drink some Gatorade, while she kept running.  I think most of the other runners were carrying fluids with them.  I was stopping to drink each time I went through the aid station.  That always caused me to fall behind the other runners at the start of a lap.

I didn’t expect it to warm up more than a few degrees, but now that the wind was picking up, it actually felt colder.  I mentioned that to Greg, and he said the temperature was dropping.

Halfway through my fifth lap, I finally caught up to Renee.  Now I was in third place.  After the turnaround, I started looking for Ken.  By now, Justin was at least a lap ahead of everyone.  Ken was in second place.  Sometimes, on a straight section of trail, I would see Ken way ahead in the distance.  Then he would disappear around a bend.  When I could see him, I tried to focus on gaining ground.

As I started my sixth lap, I saw Ken beginning to take walking breaks.  He never walked for long, but it allowed me to gradually make up some ground.

I saw Greg again.  He had checked the temperature with his phone.  It was now 52 degrees.  That was three degrees colder than it was at the start.  On top of that, there was more wind.  That’s why I wasn’t comfortable taking walking breaks.  At this point, it no longer mattered.  I was now emotionally invested in a top three finish, even if it meant going all-out for a second straight day.

I kept getting closer to Ken.  I was only 50 yards behind him when he reached the turnaround.  After making the turn myself, I saw that Renee was right behind me.

I was currently in third place.  If I could catch Ken, I could move into second place.  On the other hand, if I slowed down even a little, Renee would pass me, and I would drop back to fourth place.  I couldn’t let up.

I was right behind Ken when he took his next walking break.  Then I moved ahead of him.  With Renee and Ken both right behind me, I felt like I couldn’t let up.

When I finished my sixth lap, Renee was so close that she passed me as I stopped to drink.  I worked a little harder to catch up to her.  I saw Ken going up the hill just as we were passing by on the lower trail.  We were ahead of him by a couple minutes now.

I ran the entire seventh lap with Renee.  For the first half of that lap, it felt like I had to work hard to stay with her.  In the second half, she eased up a bit, and I didn’t have to work as hard.

By now, I knew her only goal was to be the first-place woman, and she knew my only goal was to place in the top three overall.  We didn’t actually need to compete with each other.  We could each reach our goals.  I just needed to stay ahead of Ken, who was falling farther behind.  Renee was keeping an eye on the second woman, but she had what seemed like a safe lead.

As we started our last lap, we were on pace for 4:22.  That’s always been a big goal for me, since it’s an average pace of 10 minutes per mile.  We might do it, but it would be close.

Renee seemed to slow down in the first half of that lap.  Without trying, I started to pull away from her.  When I was about halfway to the turnaround, I suddenly felt overwhelming soreness in both legs.  My quads were suddenly killing me.  That came out of nowhere.  Running at my limit two days in a row had caught up to me.  I was hitting the wall in a big way.

I fought through the pain to maintain my pace as best I could.  Renee caught up to me just past the turnaround.

We ran together the rest of the way, but I once again had to work to keep up with her.  With about a mile to go, I could tell we were speeding up.  Renee was feeling good, and she was going to finish strong.  I told her I would keep up with her as long as I could.

As we got closer to the end of the lap, I found it easier to stay with her.  For the longest time, I assumed she would drop me.  Now, as my legs seemed to be recovering, I told her I was going to race her to the finish line.  She didn’t care.  She didn’t feel the need to compete with me.

I didn’t know how my legs would respond going up that last hill, but they handled it fine.  I sprinted to the line, finishing in 4:22:04.  Renee finished a few second behind me and got her award.

There aren’t any awards for second place, but that’s OK.  I extended my streak of top three finishes to 22 consecutive races.  I expect that streak to end tomorrow, when there will be more competition.  Besides, I’m not going to be in any shape to compete.  I think my legs are done, and the next two days will be a struggle just to finish.

When I got back to the hotel, I took an ice bath.  It must have been the coldest ice bath I’ve ever taken.  I stayed in it for 20 minutes.  Then I took a long hot shower to warm up.  Even with hot water spraying on me, my hands turned white.  After drying off, I got cold again.  I quickly got dressed, but I was shivering for the next half hour.  Ice baths really work, but I sometimes think the cure is worse than the disease.

I expect the next two days to be rough.  When I race on consecutive days, I usually hold back until the last day.  I didn’t hold back yesterday, and I didn’t hold back today.  I’m really going to pay for that tomorrow and Sunday.  On top of that, tomorrow will be colder and it may rain during the race.

Race Statistics

Distance:  26.2 miles

Time:  4:22:04

Average Pace: 10:00 

Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  427

Consecutive top three finishes:  22

Texas Quad, Day 1: The Walk

Today was the first day of the Texas Quad, which is a series of four marathons in four days over Thanksgiving weekend.  In the past, these races were held at Lake Bachman Park in Dallas.  Dallas County isn’t currently issuing permits for running events, so this year’s races were moved to the Trinity Trail System in Fort Worth.  Fort Worth is in a different county.

I flew to Fort Worth yesterday.  With COVID-19 cases rising all over the country, I was a little bit leery about traveling to a race.  The nice thing about a series like this is that I can do four races, while only having to travel to one city.  Not that I’m in Fort Worth, I can stay at the same hotel for the whole series.  My hotel room has a kitchenette with a full-size refrigerator, so I can prepare and eat meals in my room.  Other than the races, I plan to mostly stay at the hotel and keep to myself.

The races are all small, and they have good protocols for COVID-19, so I didn’t consider them to be risky.  If there was one thing that made me nervous, it was needing to buy groceries on the day before Thanksgiving, which is typically one of the busiest days for grocery stores.  After checking in at my hotel, the first thing I did was head to Kroger to buy groceries.  I was worried that the store would be packed, but I was pleasantly surprised.  I was told they were busy earlier in the day, and they expected to be busy later.  I apparently got there during a brief lull.

After buying groceries, I went to Montgomery Plaza to pick up my race packet.  I’ll have the same race bib for all four races, so I only needed to do that once.  I’ll be wearing bib #5.  That’s the lowest bib number I’ve ever had for a marathon.

I expect to eat most of my meals in my hotel room, but I found one local pizzeria with outdoor seating, and yesterday was a nice enough day to eat outside.  Local residents might have found it to be too chilly, but it’s much warmer here than it is at home.

Each race of the Texas Quad has a name.  Today’s race was called, “The Walk.”  You don’t actually have to walk, but most runners were doing at least some amount of walking.  That’ll be true every day of this series.  Personally, I planned to run most of the way, but I didn’t rule out taking walking breaks to manage my pace.

I saw several familiar faces today.  Some of them were runners who also did the Running Ragged 20in20 Series in September.  I also saw several runners I didn’t know.  Most of them, I assume, are local runners.  I’m not sure how many are doing the Quad and how many were just doing today’s race.

We’ll have the same course all four days.  It’s an out-and back alongside the Clear Fork of the Trinity River.  To complete a marathon, we had to run eight laps.  There was also a half marathon, which was four laps of the same course.

After the Running Ragged 20in20 Series, I needed to take a break to heal from injuries.  For the first week, I just rested.  Since them, I’ve been doing physical therapy, while running every other day.  My longest run in the last eight weeks was only 12.25 miles, so I didn’t know how I would hold up over a marathon.  My knee is feeling better, but it’s not 100 percent.  A bigger concern is a tendon in my left leg that I still notice whenever I run.   I can run as much as 10 miles without it getting worse, but I didn’t know how it would hold up over 26.2 miles.

I didn’t know how fast I should try to run today.  Aside from the injuries, I also didn’t know what kind of shape I’m in.  I had a great fitness base before the Running Ragged 20in20 Series, but since then my training has really dropped off.  I wasn’t sure to what extent I’ve lost fitness.

We lined up in two rows, spaced six feet apart.  Everyone was required to wear a mask or face covering in the start/finish area and any time they were less than six feet from other runners.  We were ordered by bib number, with the exception that anyone expecting to run the marathon in five hours should line up in the first three rows.  Apparently, there weren’t many other runners who expected to break five hours.  I ended up in front.  The race was chip-timed, so runners lining up farther back didn’t lose any time.

I planned to start the race on pace for four hours.  I didn’t know how long I would keep that pace.  I’ve run that pace comfortably for up to nine miles, but I haven’t had anything I would call a “long run” in the last eight weeks.

We started out heading east, but quickly descended a short hill and made a sharp turn onto a path that was closer to the river.  Then we headed west until we reached the turnaround.

I started out running with Ed, who was lined up next to me at the start.  I eventually moved ahead, but I didn’t want to get too far out in front.  Within a few minutes, a few other runners caught up.  I assumed the runners I didn’t recognize were doing the half marathon, but I wasn’t sure.  I let the fastest one go, but stayed with three others.  I wasn’t sure how fast we were going until we reached the turnaround.

When I did the RunningRagged 20in20 Series in September, most of my times were between 4:30 and 5:00.  I expected to run similar times in this series, but I wanted to see if I could win one of the races.  My best chance at a win was today.  After today, I’ll have tired legs, so I won’t be able to compete with runners who are arriving with fresh legs.

When the lead runner was coming back from the turnaround, I tried to ask her which race she was doing.  I thought she said, “what?”  I assumed at first that she didn’t hear the question.  Then Calix, who was running near, said he thought she said, “half.”  I assumed Calix was right, and that I didn’t have to worry about competing with her.  I also didn’t have to compete with Calix, because he was doing the half marathon.  There was at least one runner near me who was doing the marathon, and she wasn’t running the remain three races of the quad.  I had to make a decision.  Did I want to try to compete with a runner who could afford to go all-out today, when I had to worry about having something left for the next three days?

I checked my pace as I reached the turnaround.  To be on pace for a four-hour finish, I needed to get there in 15 minutes.  I got there in about 14 minutes.  If I wasn’t thinking about competing for the win, I would’ve slowed down a bit.  Instead, I kept up the same pace.

There was one other runner who was just ahead of me.  I didn’t know at first if he was doing the marathon or the half marathon.  Until I knew, I tried not to fall too far behind him.

As we neared the end of the lap, there was a fork.  The trail on the left stayed close to the river.  The trail on the right went up a hill.  The trail on the left was the way we went out, so I assumed we would come back the same way.  I was wrong.  A volunteer directed us up the hill.  I soon saw that that would bring us back to start/finish line going the same direction that we started, instead of having to make a 180-degree turn.

There was an aid station with some pre-packaged food items, but beverages were self-serve.  We were each expected to bring a cooler with our own beverages.  I brought a small insulated bag with a few bottles of Gatorade.  Just before crossing the line, I stopped to open a bottle of Gatorade and take a drink.

I finished the first lap in roughly 28 minutes, putting me well ahead of a four-hour pace.  After stopping to drink, I briefly fell behind the two other runners I was trying to keep up with.

We were mostly running on a concrete path, but there was sometimes a gravel trail running alongside of it.  We were told we could run on either path, but the course was measured along the shortest path.  In one place, the concrete path turns and becomes slightly serpentine, while the gravel trail goes straight.  Here, the gravel trail is the one that was measured.

There was another race going on at the same time as ours.  It was a half marathon that started a few miles farther east and did a single out-and-back.  Their course overlapped with ours, but they were supposed to stay on the concrete through this section.  They had cones indicating they weren’t supposed to continue onto the gravel.  Before the race, Angela told us we could ignore those cones and go straight.  By the time I was finishing my second lap, I was seeing runners from the other race.  Their bib numbers had a different design than ours.

My second lap took about 29 minutes.  That was slower than the first lap, but still faster than a four-hour pace.  I continued to run at that pace for two more laps.

It wasn’t until my third lap, that I learned that the runner who was just ahead of me was doing the half marathon.  I no longer needed to worry about keeping up with him.  Ironically, it was during that lap that I passed him.

As I started my fourth lap, I had a lead for the first time.  I had been carrying a camera in my fanny pack since the beginning of the race, but I didn’t feel like I could stop to take pictures without falling behind.  I stopped briefly to take a picture of the river, but I couldn’t get the camera to turn on.  I tried a few times and then gave up.  It seemed like the button was jammed.  A short time later, I reached another place where I wanted to take a picture.  I tried again to turn on the camera, but I still couldn’t get it to turn on.  I finally gave up on it and put the camera back in my fanny pack.

As I was in the second half of that lap, I saw runner #20 going the other way.  She was the runner who was out in front since early in the first lap.  Up until now, I assumed she was doing the half marathon.  If so, she would’ve been finished by now.  She was already in her fifth lap, so she was obviously doing the marathon.  For almost half the race, I assumed I was competing for the overall win.  Now I realized I was way behind the overall leader.

When I finished my fourth lap, I took the camera out of my fanny pack and put it my bag in the finish area.  If I couldn’t use it, there was no sense in continuing to carry that extra weight.

I reached the halfway mark in roughly 1:55.  That put me on pace for 3:50, but the pace didn’t feel sustainable.  Now I had to decide how fast I wanted to run.  Running as fast as I was today would leave me sore and tired for the next three races.  I was willing to risk that to compete for the win, but my pace now seemed less relevant.  I clearly wasn’t going to be the overall winner.  The lead woman already had a huge lead and was running a pace that I couldn’t possibly match.  Similarly, I already had a huge lead over all the other men.  Even if I slowed down, none of them were likely to catch me.  I had to decide how badly I wanted to break four hours.  I wasn’t sure yet.

As I started my fifth lap, I tried to maintain about the same effort.  When I saw the lead woman coming back, I checked my watch.  I checked it again when I reached the turnaround.  She was at least 16 minutes ahead of me.  I definitely wasn’t going to catch her, even if she slowed down.

That lap was a little bit slower.  For a hour-hour finish, I needed to average 30 minutes per lap.  My first four laps, were roughly 28, 29, 29, and 29.  This one was roughly 31.  I gave back a minute.  I still had four minutes in the bank.  If I continued to give back one minute per lap, I would still break four hours, but it would be close.  I couldn’t afford to keep slowing down.

In my sixth lap, I almost didn’t recognize the lead woman when she passed going the other direction.  I saw her race bib, or I wouldn’t have realized it was her.  Partly that’s because she shed a layer as it started to get hotter.  Mostly, it’s because I saw her much earlier than I expected.  She added at least a few more minutes to her lead.

I expected to get hot in the second half, but I didn’t.  There was a breeze in the river valley, and it helped offset the rising temperatures.  I started the race wearing tights.  I did that to keep my legs warm in the early miles, but I thought I would regret it later.  I never did.

As I finished that lap, I saw that I had given back more than a minute.  With two laps to go, I was ahead of a four-hour pace by only two and a half minutes.  That’s when I finally realized that I really wanted to break hour hours.  As I started my seventh lap, I tried to pick up my effort.

I was once again surprised how soon I saw the lead woman coming back.  I had barely started my seventh lap when I saw her nearing the finish of hers.  I fully expected her to lap me.  I was surprised that I made it almost to the turnaround before she went by.  I told her she was running strong.  Then I checked my watch as I made the turn.  I ran the first half of that lap in 16 minutes.  In just half a lap, I had already given back a minute.  I had to pick up the pace.

Seeing the lead woman in front of me, I decided to chase her.  I knew I couldn’t catch her, but I was hoping I could speed up enough to keep from falling any farther behind.  If I could match my pace with hers for half a lap, I could stay within striking distance of a four-hour finish.

At first, I was still falling behind.  Then I picked up my effort even more.  Finally, it seemed like I was staying about the same distance behind her.  As we got closer to the end of the lap, I could see that I was falling farther behind again.  At first, I thought I was easing up in my effort.  Then it occurred to me that she was on her last lap, so she was probably speeding up in anticipation of finishing.

When I finished that lap, I was pleasantly surprised to see I ran the second half in 13:30.  I made up the minute I lost in the first half and gained an additional 30 seconds.  As I started my last lap, I had a cushion of just over three minutes.  I knew I wouldn’t sustain my recent fast pace, but I was reasonably sure I wouldn’t give up three minutes in one lap.

Now that I was running on my own again, I couldn’t be certain if I was running fast enough.  I planned to check my time at the turnaround.  If I could get there in 16 minutes, I’d feel confident.  I got there in just over 15 minutes.  I ran somewhat faster in the second half of the lap, eventually finishing the race in 3:56:17.

While I wasn’t the overall winner, I was still the first place male.  Technically, that’s still a win.  Texas is now the 11th state where I’ve either been first overall or first male in a marathon or ultra.

After the race, it occurred to me that the problem with my camera might be the batteries.  Usually, when they're getting weak, I'll get an error message when I try to take a picture.  What if they were totally dead?  The last time I used the camera, it was working fine, but that was two months ago.  Could the batteries have gone completely dead since then?  Evidently, they did.  After I changed the batteries, I could turn it on.  It acted like I was turning it on for the very first time.  I had to set the date and time.  At least now, I can take pictures again.

It’s good to know that I can still run a marathon in four hours.  I hadn’t done that since August, and I had gone eight weeks without even running as far as 13 miles.  There was other good news.  I never had any discomfort in my right knee.  I still don’t think it’s 100 percent, but it’s improved significantly since my last race.

With respect to my left leg, the news is mixed.  I felt a certain amount of soreness from the beginning of the race.  It never got much better, but it also never got much worse.  I also didn’t have an uptick in soreness after the race.  I iced it, and I’ll ice it again.  How it'll feel during the next three races is anybody’s guess.  For what it’s worth, I plan to do liberal amounts of walking in the next three races.  Today’s race was called “The Walk,” but it’s probably the only race in the series where I won’t do any walking.

Race Statistics
Distance: 26.2 miles
Time: 3:56:17 
Average Pace: 9:01
Lifetime Marathons/Ultras: 426

How Did I Do That?

I recently completed a series of 20 marathons on 20 consecutive days.  A few people have asked me how it’s possible to do something like that.  I promised I would write a post on that subject.  Here it is.

Running marathons on consecutive days isn’t as mind-blowingly difficult as most people think it is.  You don’t have to have superhuman abilities to do it.  Like anything else that’s difficult, you need to have a good plan, and you need to prepare yourself for it.  I’m going to try to explain it from three different perspectives.

1) It’s more psychological than physical

It’s been said that running a marathon is as much psychological as it is physical.  With something like this, the psychological component is even larger.

Before you can do something, you first have to visualize yourself doing it.  If you tell yourself something is impossible, then you’re right, it is impossible.  You’ll never be able to do it if you don’t even try.  That’s one of the things I admire in most of the ultrarunners I’ve met.  They never ask themselves, “Can I do this?”  They skip right over that part and instead ask, “HOW can I do this?”

More than 20 years ago, I met a runner from Minnesota named Burt Carlson.  Burt was almost twice my age, but he was running marathons every other weekend and also doing 24-hour races.  This was long before clubs like Marathons Maniacs were founded.  I had never met anyone else who did that many marathons.

One time, I bumped into Burt at a race in Wisconsin.  He was wearing a T-shirt from a race in South Dakota that was held the previous weekend.  I knew he was also planning to do the Twin Cities Marathon the next weekend.  That’s three weekends in a row.  I asked Burt, “How do you run marathons so often?”  He replied, “When you see a race on the calendar that sounds interesting, you sign up for it.  Once you’re signed up for it, it’s gonna happen.”  The simplicity of that answer blew me away.  He was right, though.  Once you decide to do it, you’ll find a way to make it happen.

When I was working on running marathons in all 50 states, I knew there were runners like Burt who would do two marathons in one weekend.  They called it a “double.”  It was a way of saving on travel expenses, but I couldn’t imagine doing two marathons in one weekend.  Then I found out there was a marathon in Rhode Island the day before a marathon in Connecticut that I was already signed up for.  They were only 20 miles away from each other.  I didn’t even need to change my flight.  That was so convenient that I had to give it a try.  It was difficult, but it wasn’t nearly as tough as I thought it would be.

After doing two “doubles,” I was ready to try a “triple.”  It went much better than I expected.  After two “triples,” I tried my first “quadzilla.”  Eventually, I did a five-day series, where each race was in a different state.  Even after doing three of those, I never dared to try a longer series.

The Running Ragged 20in20 series was originally going to be three separate series that happened to be back-to-back.  The Heartland series was seven days, the Summer Camp Series was six days, and the Prairie Series was seven days.  If you did all three, you could run marathons for 20 straight days.  I had no intention of doing that.  My original plan was just to do the Summer Camp Series.  Even that seemed intimidating, since they were all trail races.

It was only after the three series were combined into one, with all the races within a short driving distance of each other, that I decided to do all 20 races.  I really didn’t think I could do it, but I suspended my disbelief and signed up.  As Burt would say, now it was gonna happen.  The moment I signed up for it, I knew I would somehow find a way to get through it, even though I still didn’t know how.  The commitment came first.  Then I figured out how.  That’s how it works.  The body will do what the mind tells it to do, but first you have to believe.

2) It’s all about pacing

The farther you run, the slower you have to go.  For distances slower than a marathon, it’s pretty obvious how that works.  In a 200-meter sprint, you go as fast as you possible can.  If you’re running a mile, you have to hold back a little.  If you run the first lap as fast as you can, you’ll be out of breath before the second lap.

It’s the same for a 5K, a 10K, a half marathon or a marathon.  Those are all distances where you can run non-stop the whole way, but the farther you go, the slower you have to go.  Ideally, you want to pace yourself so that you can run the whole race at the same pace.  It’s been said that if you run one minute too fast in the first half of a 10K race, it’ll cost you two minutes in the second half.  In longer distances, starting too fast can be even more costly.

My understanding of how to pace myself for longer distances changed dramatically when I trained for my first 24-hour race.  Before that, my longest race was a marathon, and my longest training run was 32.5 miles.  I always tried to run non-stop.  If I walked during a race, it’s because I was already overwhelmed with soreness and fatigue.  I walked only when I was ready to give up.  I always equated walking with failure.

There’s a race in Minneapolis called the FANS 24-Hour Race.  Every year, I saw this race on the calendar, and it just seemed crazy.  “Nobody can run for 24 hours,” I thought.  Actually, I knew people actually did races like this, and I knew that some people could even run 100 miles in a race like this.  I couldn’t understand how.

In 1997, I went out to watch the race.  I showed up after people had already been running for about eight hours.  I was only there for about an hour, but after talking to some of the people who were familiar with the race, I was intrigued.  I decided to give it a try the next year.

My original goal was to run 100K.  Doing it in a 24-hour race meant I effectively wouldn’t have to worry about time limits.  I would run for as long as it took to finish 100 kilometers.  Then I would stop.

I didn’t know how to pace myself for 100 kilometers, much less 24 hours.  When I did training runs that were farther than a marathon, I always got slower and slower in the late miles.  Even if I ran at the slowest pace that I could comfortably run, it wasn’t sustainable for 100 kilometers.  At some point, I would have to walk.  After that, I didn’t expect to complete more than three miles per hour for the rest of the race.

I pondered whether it would be possible to keep going for the full 24 hours.  At some point, even walking would be difficult.  I fully expected if I was still moving at night, I might only be able to cover two miles per hour.  As I estimated how far I could run/walk in 24 hours, I never came up with anything higher than 80 miles.

About six months before the race, I met two runners who had done it before.  They both ran at least 100 miles.  When they explained how they paced themselves, it opened up a whole new world for me.

To run 100 miles in 24 hours, you need to maintain an average pace of 14:24 per mile.  I couldn’t actually run that slowly.  At some point, running at a slower pace becomes so inefficient that you’re using just as much energy as you would running faster.  To achieve a slower pace, you need to alternate between running and walking.

I had never done that before.  I had never even considered it.  Armed with this knowledge, I did training runs of as much as 40 miles where I never ran long enough to get tired before taking a nice long walking break.  In the race, it worked great.  I’d run only to the next aid station.  Then I’d walk for several minutes.  By the time I started running again, I felt as good as when I started.  If I did enough walking, I could go for several hours and still feel fresh.

 Before I knew how to pace myself with walking breaks, running 100 miles in 24 hours seemed impossible.  Once I knew how, I had no doubt I could do it.  I ended up running 111.2 miles in my first 24-hour race.

After that, I came to a whole new understanding of how far I could run.  I’m now of the belief that there’s no such thing as a distance that’s too far, provided you go at the right pace.  For any given distance, there’s a pace that makes it sustainable.  You may need to alternate between walking and running.  If it’s a long enough distance, you may need to add sleeping breaks.  The longest organized race I’ve every heard of is a 3,100-mile race.  I have a friend who has finished that race.  Any distance is possible with enough time.

My approach to running marathons on two, three, four, or five consecutive days was always to go a little slower than I would if I was just doing one race.  The first time I did a “triple,” my average pace was about 30 seconds per mile slower than my pace in a single all-out marathon.  By the third day, I had sore muscles, but I could dig deep and get through it, knowing it was the last day.  In my first five-day series, I slowed my pace by at least a minute per mile.  It got harder each day, but it was sustainable for five days.  It probably wouldn’t have been sustainable for six days.

For my 20-day series, I needed a new approach.  I couldn’t just slow down a little.  I needed to slow down a lot.  I couldn’t afford to have each day feel more difficult than the day before – not for 20 days.  Instead, I tried to find a pace that felt so easy, I could wake up every morning feeling like all I did the day before was my daily training run.  In this case, my daily runs were almost five hours long, but it was five hours of easy running mixed with walking.

I didn’t know at the start of the series how slow I would need to go.  On the first day, I paced myself much like I would in a 24-hour race, except I stopped after only five hours.  With each passing day, I found I could go just a little bit faster, and still feel fine the next morning.  My pace on the first day was conservative enough that I actually went faster each day for the first eight days of the series.

I eventually found that the right pace had me finishing each race with an average time of about 4:40.  For comparison, the last three times I ran road marathons that weren’t part of a multiday series, my times were 3:41, 3:46, and 3:42, respectively.  During this series, I was running my races about an hour slower than I normally would.  I slowed down by more than two minutes per mile.

I referred to my pace as the “Goldilocks pace.”  I was going slow enough that it didn’t leave me feeling sore or fatigued, yet still fast enough that I still had most of the day to recover and rest up for the next race.  Some people were walking the whole way, with the result that it often took them more than nine hours to finish.  That gave them far less recovery time.  I actually think what they were doing was more difficult than what I was doing.

3) I had 19 hours of recovery time for every 5 hours of running

Even though I was going at a slower pace than I would in a single race, I still finished each race within five hours.  That meant I had 19 hours to recover before the next race.  That’s almost four hours of recovery for every hour of running.  I had the luxury of eating and drinking enough to replenish myself, icing anything that might be inflamed, taking a hot bath, stretching, and massaging my legs, all before dinner.  I could relax for an hour or two after dinner and still go to bed early.

I often got eight or nine hours of sleep, yet I was still up at least three hours before the next race.  That gave me time to eat a normal breakfast, and do more icing, bathing, stretching, and massage before the race.

I ran 524 miles over a span of 20 days.  That’s extreme, yet it’s not all that impressive when you compare it to what people do in multi-day races.  I know people who have covered that many miles in a six-day race.  They didn’t have the luxury of a full-night’s sleep.  At best, they could grab a short nap each night.  The rest of the time, they had to keep moving.

Most people have the perception that it takes weeks or months to recover from a marathon.  There are two reasons for that.  The first reason is that elite runners give themselves months of recovery time before doing another marathon.  They do that because they need to be at their absolute peak on race day.  It’s not enough to be healthy and fit enough to simply finish a marathon.  If your livelihood depends on winning races, and you’re competing with the best runners in the world, you can’t afford to be slow by even a minute or two.  I wasn’t trying to compete at that level.  On average, I was running times that were a full hour slower than what I would do in a standalone race.  If necessary, I could’ve slowed down even more.

The second reason people think it takes a long time to recover from a marathon is because of the way most people train.  Most people never run farther than 20 miles in training.  On race day, they’re pushing their bodies way beyond what they’re used to.  Your body adapts to what you do frequently in training.  If you don’t routinely run 26.2 miles in training, then it’s only natural that running that far in a race is going to leave you feeling like you got run over by a truck.

When I started running marathons, I trained just like everyone else.  The day after a race, I could barely walk down a flight of stairs.  The turning point came when I joined Marathon Maniacs.  That's a club that's all about running marathons frequently.  I was skeptical about running marathons every week or two, but I gave it a try.  It took about six months to adapt to it, but once I did, I found I could run a marathon and feel just as good the day after a race as I did the day before.  Marathons became my long training runs.  The more often I ran them, the less they took out of me.

The notion that you can only run one or two marathons a year is a reality for most people, but only because of the way they train.  It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I know some people will say I can do this, but they never could.  I ran faster than the other people who completed all 20 marathon, but it’s worth noting that I was also one of the youngest runners.  In fact, of the eight runners who finished marathons every day, only Trisha was younger, and she ran every race carrying an American flag for 26.2 miles.

I think I’m also at the Goldilocks age.  I’m old enough to have a lot of experience, and I’m retired, which allows me to devote more time to training.  Still, I’m young enough that I don’t have any major health problems.  I've slowed down some with age, but I haven't slowed down dramatically.

Race Report: Running Ragged 20in20, Day 20

Today was the last race of the Running Ragged 20in20 Series.  We were running at Quarry Park & Nature Preserve for the third time this week and the 11th time overall.  Yesterday, we were asked to vote on which route through the park we wanted to run today.  The route chosen was the same route we ran on Tuesday.  We also ran this route last Thursday and Friday.  It’s the only course we’ve run four times.  It’s also the flattest route in this park, which is probably why people chose it.

Before the race, we took four group photos.  The first group was everybody who was running today.

Next, we had a photo of everybody who ran all 20 days, regardless of which distance.  The third group photo was of the eight runners who ran marathons all 20 days.  This was called the 524 group, because we ran 524 total miles.

Finally, there was a photo of the 262 group.  These were 13 runners who did half marathons all 20 days.

We have a Facebook group for runners doing the series.  This morning I posted, “Run like there’s no tomorrow.”  With respect to this series of races, that was literal, and I thought it would be a good way to encourage people.  I was nevertheless reluctant to post that.  That phrase is usually used as expression, implying we should run with reckless abandon.  Personally, I didn’t plan to do that.

As recently as last weekend, I envisioned going out with a bang by running my fastest race on the last day.  That seemed plausible, since I would no longer have any reason to hold back.

A lot has happened since then.  The cumulative fatigue from all these races has worn me down.  Also, I have some minor injuries that could easily get much worse if I’m not careful.  I still wanted to break five hours, since I’ve done that every day, but beyond that, I just wanted to be careful.

As far as injuries go, I had two big concerns today.  The first was my right Achilles tendon.  To mitigate that problem, I ran today’s race with heel lifts in both of my shoes.  A heel lift is a thin pad that goes under your heel.  Its purpose is to raise your heel slightly, so there’s slightly less tension on your Achilles tendon.  While I was primarily concerned with my right Achilles tendon, the left one has also been worrisome.  Also, I didn’t want to put a heel lift in just one shoe, as that might cause an imbalance in my stride.  By putting them in both shoes, I would still strike the ground the same way with each foot.

My other concern was a tendon where my left hamstring connects to my pelvis.  There wasn’t much I could do about that besides running cautiously, particularly going uphill, which is where I was noticing it yesterday.

Today was the coldest day of the series, with a high temperature of only 48 degrees.  I wore the warmest clothes I brought, which included the cheetah tights and hat.  Today, I added arm warmers to the ensemble.

Our course was relatively flat, which helped with several of my injuries.  The biggest hill was a sudden 10-foot rise near the start and finish of each lap.  I often referred to it as the 10-foot speed bump.  Today, I always walked up that hill, just to be on the safe side.

Today, we were joined a couple runners who had run with us a few times before.  One was Kristina, who was mostly with us on the weekends, while working during the week.  We were also joined by one runner who was doing her very first marathon.  Finally, some of the runners who were usually doing half marathons chose today to step up to the marathon, since they didn’t have to leave anything in the tank for tomorrow.

As we started running, I eased into my pace very gradually.  One of the things I was trying to do today was to avoid sudden accelerations.  Despite my gentle start, I noticed that hamstring tendon the moment I started running.

In the first lap, Kristina and I were running at about the same pace, but I was always behind her, because of my slow start.  Ordinarily, I would have sped up to run with her, but that would’ve been an unnecessary acceleration.  I was very disciplined about that.

At the end of my first lap, I was still cold.  The wind was strong, and I was feeling a few stray drops of drizzle.  I didn’t want to drink anything yet, so I went through the aid station without stopping.

I usually run at a pace that feels natural, and then use walking breaks to slow myself down.  Today, I didn’t do that.  Slowing to a walk would inevitably mean accelerating back into my running pace.  To avoid those extra accelerations, I just did continuous running at a slow, but steady pace.

There were two places where I slowed briefly to a walk.  One was going around the sharp 180-degree turn at the turnaround point.  The other was going up the “speed bump.”  In both cases, I resumed running just as I was beginning to run downhill.  That made it easier for me to glide back into running without putting any extra strain on my legs.

I didn’t take any pictures during the race.  I’ve run this race before, so I already had pictures of the course.  More important, stopping to take pictures would’ve meant accelerating from a standing start to resume running.

In the second lap, I was once again running at about the same pace as Kristina, but this time she was behind me, because she stopped at the aid station and I didn’t.  Because of the way I was pacing myself, I didn’t get any opportunities to run with anyone else until much later in the race.

During that lap, I was still noticing occasional drops of drizzle, but it wasn’t enough to get my clothes wet.

When I finished my second lap, I still didn’t feel like drinking, but I knew I should.  After that, I drank a little bit of Gatorade after each lap.  Those brief stops were unavoidable, but by now, my muscles had more time to warm up.

Early in my third lap, I noticed more drizzle.  If I had noticed it sooner, I would’ve grabbed my jacket while I was at the aid station.  I wasn’t going to go back, so I had to live with it.  Fortunately, the drizzle didn’t last that long.  It was one more lap at the most.

In the second half of that lap, I saw Kristina walking, so she could talk with Nat.  Kristina was probably the only runner who could give me competition, but she didn’t come here to compete with me.  She was here to support everybody.  At different times during the race, I saw her walking or running with several different runners.

After a few laps, I got the impression that my hamstring tendon might be feeling better, but I couldn’t tell for sure.  Sometimes, I just tune things out.  All I could know for sure is that it wasn’t getting worse.

By the middle of my 4th lap, I started to see the sun shining through gaps in the trees.  That’s when I knew for sure that we were done with the rain.

I wasn’t paying much attention to my lap times.  When I reached the halfway mark, I saw that my time was about the same as it was on other days when I was taking walking breaks and pacing for 20-minute laps.  Today, I was achieving the same pace just by running slowly.  Earlier in the series, running this slow would not have felt natural.  Today it did.

With six laps to go, there was a big contrast between how I felt today and how I felt yesterday.  Yesterday, it was at this point in the race that my hamstring tendon first started to bother me.  Today, it was at this point in the race that I could tell for sure it was feeling better.  Although I felt better, I still kept to my slow, but steady pacing.  What I was doing seemed to be working, and I wasn’t going to make any changes.

I also realized that neither Achilles tendon was bothering me at all.  I never felt them once.  The heel lifts were apparently working.  Wearing them came with some small risk.  While they reduced the tension on my Achilles tendons, they probably increased the tension on my plantar fascia.  For today, that was an acceptable trade-off, but it would not have been a good long-term solution.

I only filled one bottle with Gatorade today.  After my 10th lap, I ran out of Gatorade.  I didn’t want to stop long enough to refill it.  After my 11th lap, I stopped just long enough to get a cup of chocolate milk from Kelly.  Then, with only three laps to go, I stopped drinking.  It was a cold enough day that I could get by without drinking for the remaining laps.

At this point, I stopped counting down remain laps.  Instead, I counted down the remaining half-laps.  I did this for two reasons.  First, half-laps corresponded more closely with the number of remaining miles.  Second, it allowed me to recognize tangible progress at both ends of the course, rather than just at the aid station.  That was a psychological thing.  It’s like running a marathon where the course is marked in kilometers instead of miles.  There are more of them, but they go by quicker.  The closer I am to the end of the race, the more often I want to be able to acknowledge some progress.

In my second-to-last lap, I saw Jim ahead of me.  I wanted to run with him, but I wasn’t going to speed up to catch him.  My pace was a little faster than Jim’s, so I eventually caught up to him anyway.  Then I slowed to his pace, so we could run together for the rest of the lap.  By now, I knew I would break five hours by a wide margin, so I didn’t mind if I gave up a minute or two.

After that lap, Jim let me go, and I went back to running on my own.  I don’t know if I ever got back to the same pace as before, but that didn’t matter too much.

This was my 4th marathon on this course, so by now I had run this same out-and-back route 55 times.  I just had to run it one more time.  When I got to the turnaround, I rejoiced in knowing that it was my last 180-degree turn of the series.

On my way back, I passed Angela.  She said something that should’ve been obvious, but had not occurred to me.  I was going to be the first person to finish the series.  That was obvious because I had known for a long time that I would be the first person to finish today’s marathon.  This series was the first of its kind.  There was supposed to be a 20in20 series in the United Kingdom in August, but it got cancelled.  That meant I was going to be the first person to finish a series of 20 marathons in 20 days.

As I continued through my last lap, I ran past the Quarry #2 swimming hole for the last time.  Then I ran by a pair of stinky outhouses for the last time.  Next, I ran across the boardwalk for the last time.  Finally, I slowed to a walk, as I went over the “speed bump” for the last time.

Normally, at this point, I would be accelerating toward the aid station and finishing as quickly as I could.  Today, I was more restrained.  I kept up my slow, but steady pace right to the finish.  I finished in 4:40:48.  That was remarkably close to my average finish time for the series.

After finishing, we each received a certificate indicating how many total miles we ran.

This is a shirt I got with packet pickup three weeks ago.  It was never intended to be a finisher shirt, but that’s how I treated it.  I didn’t put it on until after I finished all 20 races.  Because of that, this shirt now has more meaning for me.  I really earned it.

This post wouldn’t be complete without a photo of my medal, now that it’s completely filled in.  I'm not normally a fan of huge medals, but this one is different.  It represents the whole series, not just a single race.

Last, but not least, for the first time in my life, I’m going to put a sticker on my car.  You know how people have stickers that read. “13.1” or “26.2.”  Well, there are very few people with one of these.

Race Statistics

Distance:  26.2 miles

Time:  4:40:48

Average Pace:  10:43

Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  425

Minnesota Marathons/Ultras:  78

Series Statistics

Races Completed:  20

Under Five Hours:  20

Total Time:  93:24:13

Average Time:  4:40:13

Fastest:  4:18:32 (Day 16)

Slowest:  4:59:09 (Day 1)

Wins:  13

Total Miles:  524

Average Pace:  10:42