Back in the Mud Again (some of it rather frozen)

I've been lax in posting for fear of jinxing myself, because I've actually been able to put together a couple months of consistent training lately, and (gasp) managed to run the first three trail races of the UMTR Grand-Prix-style Trail Run Series.

On April 21, I ventured to Wirth Park to run the 2013 MDRA Mudball Classic. As the starter joked while we lined up, they should have re-named it the Snowball Classic in this year of endless winter. The entire course, a loop of about 0.9 miles that we were to run 4 laps around, was covered in about 4-6 inches of slushy snow. I was smart enough to bring along a pair of trail shoes with 10 sheet metal screws inserted at various key spots. I don't think they made a huge difference, because everyone was slipping all over the place, but I do think that the third and fourth laps were better for me than for many others because of that little extra grip. I'll never be sure, of course. In my typical fashion, I started out fairly slowly, and watched the young and the restless dance away during the first mile. One striking difference this time though: two of those youngsters simply sped away and never came back - in fact, the brother/sister duo won their respective races, with 15 year old Garrett Williams finishing first overall and his 19 year old sister Kaelyn finishing 4th overall and first woman. Wait, a 15 year old won the race?! Nicely done young fella, I think you've got a future in this sport. Same for your sister. Wow, impressive. As for me, I slipped and sloshed my way around in decent if much-less-impressive fashion, passed 1 or 2 runners each lap and ended up 6th overall out of 69 runners, first in the 50-59 age group. I'll take it. First race in several months.

Found one photo of the race online that shows us heading downhill right at the start, there I am number 818 tying to stay upright in the midst of the fleet-footed young!

The following weekend (April 27) I ran the Chippewa Moraine Trail Run "10k" near New Auburn, Wisconsin (it is actually about 7 miles long). Taking place on the true single-track of the Ice Age Trail, I was looking forward to this one. At the same time and place, a 50k trail race was taking place - they departed about 25 minutes before we did, and we would share the same trail for the first five miles. Not a good idea. More on that later. The start was a massive downhill double-track, steep and grassy. I'm not a big fan of downhill starts, they only magnify how slowly I come out of the gates. Sigh. Anyway, after a jaunt around a meadow, we dove into the woods for some great single-track. I actually passed about 5 runners in the 500 meters or so before the trail - I didn't really accelerate, they just slowed down. The footing was treacherous. Almost all portions of the trail that were shaded from the daytime sun were frozen - not necessarily slick ice, but frozen and re-frozen snow that had a thin top layer of slush. I had my screw shoes on again, but during the steep downhills (the race director told us to walk these, but of course we didn't listen) it was very slippery. At one point, maybe 1.5 miles in, I actually did a sort of inelegant jump-stop because I simply could not get enough traction to slow myself. I jumped slightly, turned my feet and body sideways, then planted both feet and did a very poor imitation of a downhill skier stopping at the base of a steep slope. I honestly skidded at least 10 feet, but managed to stay upright. Not so about a half mile later, when a little mud puddle turned out to be much deeper than I thought, and the unexpected "sploosh" into the deep quagmire put me right down on my elbows in the snow. Oof! It was my only fall of the day, luckily, because I could have gone down at least 6 more times. Most of those times took place when we (inevitably) caught the 50k runners who were out on the course, and appropriately running at a much slower pace. I felt bad for them, because we were simply flying past and there really wasn't any room to do so. Several times I had to go off-trail and high-step it through the wet snow in order to pass. Not cool, but what could we do? (Memo to Race Director: You've got to start that 50k at least 30 minutes earlier, it's just not safe to have that many of us faster runners weaving in and out of those running much farther on the day. Please!) Anyway, I ran down a couple of guys and managed to finish 5th on the day overall, first in the 50-59 age group (results here). The final mile included a jog back up the same hill we stormed down at the start. I'm not sure I've ever run that slowly in the final mile of a race. I thought I might hit my chin on the ground in front of me. Still, I'd certainly run this race again.

Finally, this morning (May 4) I drove south to near Mankato, MN to Seven Mile Creek County Park to race the 7@7 Trail Race. This was another of those races where I really had no idea what to expect, except that the race website mentioned that the course was entirely double-track. It rained during the drive down, but luckily for everyone it let up for the most part during the race. Again, this race had another event sharing some of the same trails. But this race director made sure that the 5k started just 5 minutes after the 7 mile, and the last mile of each respective race was slightly different, so I think I only actually overtook 2 or 3 of the 5k runners, who were very gracious to move completely off-course to let us run past (thanks!). This race course is HILLY! And several of the hills were very steep, both up and down. Not my forte these days. On the very first hill, about 0.4 miles in, I faded back from 8th place to 12th place in the space of a quarter mile. Ouch. But I set my chin and worked my way back up to the top 10 by about two miles, where I slipped past a small clutch of 4 runners. One came along with me, and we ended up jockeying back and forth for the rest of the race, picking off a few more runners until he sped past me in the final half-mile to come in 5th and I came in 10 seconds behind in 6th (first in 50-59 age group, but not by very much - results here - you can see that another runner my age was bearing down on me from behind). Did I mention that there were hills? In fact, I think everyone (maybe not the overall winner) ended up WALKING up two of the hills, that's how steep they were. Walking up a hill in a seven mile race! Unbelievable. But practical. Despite those two sections, which perhaps accounted for about 4 minutes in total, I averaged under 7:20 pace for this trail race, showing you how non-technical the course was. But still a fun day in the wet woods, and I ran as hard as I could.

Three weeks, three trail races, three age-group wins = success, at least by my measure, considering I've been battling hamstring injuries for 9 months and I'm still barely running 25 miles per week - with every other day dedicated to cross-training instead of running. I'm not in the shape I was last year - not even close, and I know I'd get creamed in a road race right now. But on the muddy trails, where technique and experience can make a difference, I'm still hanging in there. Knock on wood!

Spinning Wheels and Tiny Screens

No, that's not me in the photo. But it almost could be. With this long-lasting hamstring trouble, I've spent a lot of time doing something along these lines. The winter is a bit cold and snowy in the Twin Cities to be biking outside on icy roads, so I've been getting to know Netflix pretty well over the past few months.

I suppose the good news is that I'm actually running a little bit again. Nothing impressive, but I'm up to an every-other-day jog at a reasonable pace. I'll take it. Even if my hamstrings continue to bother me. Sigh.

As I've noted before, NOT running is actually the time in your life when you will appreciate running like never before. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I suppose. But I honestly miss even those aspects of being a runner that sometimes get a bit annoying - like all of the extra laundry, or the early morning alarms, or the cold fog of April, or the sapping heat of August, or the chilly October rain, or the icy cold January wind. The truth is, I'd rather be like this guy than the one above:

Yes, that does qualify me as a bit nuts. Then again, aren't we all, in one way or another?

Good running everyone. Hope to re-join the tribe soon.

Holding Pattern

"You don't drown by falling in the water; you drown by staying there" Edwin Louis Cole

Right ... but right now I'm just treading water!
Excuse the crude frankness of the expression, but running injuries suck.
I've been battling the recurrence of an old lower hamstring injury for more than two months now. It seems to improve, but then flares back up again as soon as I try even the shortest jog. I'm broken!

I'm sure I've got some kind of imbalance going on, the problem is that it seems as if everyone has a different opinion on what to do about it. These include:

• Rest (makes sense, been doing it, helps a little, probably only treating the symptoms and not the cause)
• Drugs (I suppose, and I've popped some Ibuprofen, with little impact)
• Cross-train (yeah, good idea, as long as I go easy on the bike my leg seems okay)
• Stretch (hmm ... I worry about stretching an area that is already inflamed, but it is possible that tight hamstrings are contributing to this problem, so I'm trying to do light stretching - carefully)
• Massage (sure, but who can afford it?)
• Acupuncture (I'd used it for other pains before, it helps a little, but again seems to treat symptoms not causes)
• Yoga (I'm an old stiff runner, I'm afraid I'd snap in two!)
• etc.

The bottom line may be obvious: I don't really have a coherent plan, so I'm just treading water impatiently and hoping that something breaks in the right direction at some point. Re-reading that sentence, it seems a bit passive. I keep "testing" it, to see if it's improving - but I may actually be re-injuring it every time I do that. Running very gently on soft trails hurts the least, so I try to limit my jogs to that description. Otherwise, it's a lot of biking and hoping the cold autumn weather holds off for awhile.

I hope your running is going much better than mine. Appreciate it, you never know when it might be stolen away from you. 

When the Injury Bug Bites Hard

Runners are terrific whiners. I do my best too.

July has been a disaster for my own running. The injury bug has bitten hard. It's as if my warranty ran out, and everything starting falling apart. Eerie. Literally, July 1 arrived and I woke up with a right hip that hurt so much it was hard to walk, hell it was even hard to sleep for a couple days. That lasted only about 3 days and then simply went away (weird), but just as suddenly two old injuries arose to slap me back down again: my left hip (probably piriformis syndrome) and my right hamstring (probably irritated scar tissue from a strain to the semi-tendonosis and/or semi-membranosus). The left hip thing has been a recurring problem for years, and has knocked me down for months at a time twice before. The right hamstring thing was my first truly debilitating running injury, and dates back to 1993, when it basically stopped me from running competitively for almost 3 years. Both scare me more than they should, because both have caused me to sit on the sidelines extensively.

Needless to say, I'm frustrated and impatient (of course). I've tried to do a bit of cycling, but frankly I'm not sure that it's not prolonging the problems. Therefore, I've taken the past few days off entirely. We runners really hate this, but at this point it's probably my only hope.

My right leg was feeling better over the weekend, so I strapped on my running shoes and tried to jog very gingerly. No good. My right hamstring hurt immediately and hurt a lot (not just a dull ache, but a stabbing pain), so after one lousy city block of slow jogging I stopped and walked home, head hung low.

I wouldn't wish the injury bug on anybody. Oh, it's not the physical pain of the injury, because that's short-lived and certainly tolerable. It's the psychological anguish of not being out there training, of knowing that my hard-earned fitness is seeping away by the day, of not having that one hour per day of fresh air and physical movement to help set a positive tone for the rest of my waking hours. I miss all of that, and more .. and it's only been three weeks! Argh. I just hope that August will be better, somehow. For now, I think I'd better brush up on my swimming technique (or lack thereof, to be more-accurate).

I was doing okay in two local grand prix series, but these two nagging problems will dash any hope for one of them (the MDRA road race series, because there are two races this week and I am not in any position to run a race right now, so I will skip them and thus I will not have enough total races to be able to compete with the other grand prix runners at the end of the series - darn). I still have some hope for the UMTR series, as the next race I plan to run is not until August 11, so I still may be able to get to that one if I can somehow heal fast. Fingers crossed!

The Train Kept a-Rolling ...

Race Report: William O'Brien 10 mile Trail Race, Marine on St. Croix, MN. 

My recent racing continues to be a theater of the absurd. But let's not get ahead of the story.

I raced the trails at William O'Brien State Park last Saturday. Conditions, at least for mid-June, were not too bad. Overcast skies, warm but not steaming hot, slight breeze. The course consisted of a "fat lollipop", with a section of trail covered during the first 1.5 miles, then a big loop, then back to the finish on the same 1.5 miles in reverse. Nothing too technical, but a couple sections that were nothing but rolling hill after rolling hill, enough to batter the legs a bit. One big puddle on the course, but otherwise totally dry. Once again, a trail race for the fleet of foot, and once again about 10 of them jumped out ahead of me during the first mile.

Patiently, I began to pull them back, as I slowly wound up the pace and got into the race. Between miles 1 and 6 I actually passed exactly one runner per mile, so as I approached mile seven (yes, they had mile markers on the course) I was sitting in 5th place and feeling good, thinking about hunting down a few more. That's when the absurdity appeared.

As I rounded a bend in the trail, I could hear a train chugging along to my right. "Please, please let there be a tunnel or a bridge" I pleaded to no one in particular. Nope. Dead stop. Freight train, slowly lumbering along, and the trail requiring me to cross the tracks. Nothing I could do about it, but just take some deep breaths and stand there, while runner after runner arrived behind me. All of the hard work of the past 4 miles, running them down, passing, pulling away ... evaporated. The race changed from a 10.5 mile trail race, to a 7.1 mile warmup followed by a 3.4 mile sprint race to the finish line.

I lost more than two minutes standing there, chatting a bit. Sigh.

Finally, the last car rolled by and I took off again, determined to pull away for a second time. I admit I was fueled a bit by frustration. According to my GPS watch, I was running sub-6:30 pace over that last 3+ miles, quite a bit faster than I'd averaged up to that point (admittedly the course was more downhill than uphill over that distance).

As I crossed the finish line, I couldn't help but smile and report the train crossing. At first, the timer thought he'd make some kind of adjustment, but I said, "No, no, there's nothing to be done, that's trail racing." And I meant it. You can't cry over spilled milk. I added, "I should have run the first 7 miles faster to avoid the darn train!"

I ambled over to my car, grabbed a towel, then took a quick and cooling swim in the waters of Lake Alice. Early results were posted, and if you subtracted just 2 minutes from my time I would have moved up to third overall. Double sigh. At least I won my age group. Results.

Bizarre, you say? Well, what would you say if I told you it happened to me once before? It was a road race, back in the late 1970s, and a train ruined my day then. The frustration I felt on that day, stoked by ample amounts of adolescent testosterone and self-righteous indignation, would sting me for months ... but also provide motivation to train harder and race faster. Now, with more than three decades behind me, I just find it rather funny and absurd. Or maybe I should have turned when that black cat ran across my path the other day when I was out for my morning run ...

A plea to any and all race directors: Please, never ever under any circumstances route your course across railroad tracks that have even the slightest chance of being active. Find a bridge or tunnel or change your course. At William O'Brien Park, we could have run an extra mile or so and used an underpass - it would have meant using a short section of trail twice, but that little detail pales in comparison to the potential risks of hundreds of tons of train pounding along steel rails and some skinny runner maybe tripping and falling in front of it.

The (Sour) Grapes of Wrath

Race Report: Sour Grapes Half Marathon trail race

I took the long-ish drive up to Brainerd, MN this past Saturday morning (2+ hours) to run the 5th race in the UMTR Trail Series in the Northland Arboretum. Theme of the day was the heat: relentless sun, and temperatures headed toward the 90s, with a dash of humidity just for kicks. Probably not great weather to race 13.1 miles, but at least we'd be in the woods for most of the race, where we'd have slightly cooler temps and shade (thank goodness).

A few notes about the race itself: the course was a non-technical XC ski trail loop that we ran twice, after sharing the start with the "half-half" runners; that is, competitors doing only one loop (about 10.5 kilometers). Editorial aside: I don't like races that mix multiple distances together for any major portion and especially not at the start, it makes things confusing for everyone and you just don't know who you are actually racing - but maybe I'm in the minority on that front. The course had no single track at all (darn), rolling hills, a bit of sand at times, was fairly wide, had no roots/rocks/mud to speak of - although there were two very short sections that were soft underfoot, so I suppose if this race took place on a rainy day there could be some swampy bits. The course was very well-marked, and they cleverly placed an aid station right at a complex intersection that was used at least a couple of times each lap - very smart move. Thankfully in the hot conditions I was able to grab plenty of water during the race without carrying any myself. Race organizers and volunteers were all friendly folks, and there were quite a few spectators for a trail race. It was chip-timed, a bit slow to get to the awards ceremonies (but I know that can be a bit tricky when racers are covering 13+ miles at paces ranging from 6 minutes to over 11 minutes per mile). All in all, a nice venue and a race worth running, but don't get your hopes up for a difficult course requiring real trail-running technique, this is just another speedster's course (although the sandy sections would slow down even the fleetest of foot).

At the start, I let those speedsters fly off while I tried to settle into something in the "comfortably hard" effort range. I knew it was going to be a long day when the first couple of miles went by well over 7:00 minute per mile pace, but I was already huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf. It was probably the heat + humidity, and those two demons were simply variables to be dealt with on the day. I suspected those faster starters up ahead of me would be falling off their aggressive pace before too long, just because of conditions. I counted about 10 runners in front of me at about the half-mile mark, but then got passed by 2 more in the next half mile. No way to know if they were in my race or not, and way too early to fight it, so I let them go and focused on my own pacing and effort level.

There are many disadvantages to growing older. For example: you get slower, recovery takes longer, you lose that spring in your step, your elbow skin sags, etc. But there are a few advantages: experience, self-awareness, guile. I tried to use those to their full advantage on this day.

I started passing other runners by mile 4 (already?). The first two *seemed* to be running the 10k, judged by the intensity of their breathing and their unwillingness to let me pass. Both of them spit and sputtered and wheezed and battled me for at least 2 minutes before finally relenting. I made no attempt to surge or "race" them head-to-head, I just kept plugging along at the effort level I believed I could sustain. By mile 5 I'd gotten 3 more, one of whom was WALKING, and asked me to reassure him that he'd not missed the 10.5k turnoff. I told him he still had more than a mile to go, and trundled on.

Passing the finish area at the end of loop one, I had no idea what place I was in for the half-marathon. I could see only one runner who seemed to have just finished, maybe, and looking up ahead across the field there was no one in sight. I tried to pick up the pace on the second loop, but it was just too hot to maintain anything much faster than I was already doing. By the end of the race, my watch would say that I ran the second loop about one minute faster than the first, so I did manage negative splits, although not by much.

The second loop was a rather lonely slog for awhile, until I started passing the slowest of the 10.5k runners/walkers who had still not finished their first loop. However, with about 2 miles to go, suddenly there was a runner in front of me who looked to be struggling on a hot, sunny uphill. As I tried to muster at least a little bit of a surge, he suddenly started walking - heat will do that to you. As I passed, he offered a word of encouragement and I told him to hang in there. I started to feel the effects of the heat, sand, and pace at around 11.5 miles, and from there on out I was just doing my best to maintain form. I crossed the finish line and someone told me I was third place, which surprised me a bit - I didn't think I had passed that many runners, but then again some of them may have been in the 10.5k and others may have been dropped out or been walking along with the 10.5k walkers and thus I didn't notice them? Guess I'll never know for sure.

I kept dousing myself with water, but it was pretty hard to cool off. I decided to walk my cool down instead of jogging it, my legs were tired and I was already so over-heated. Back at the race site, I grabbed a few snacks offered by a friendly horde of volunteers, and waited for the awards. I did finish 3rd (results), although I was way behind the guys in first and second place. I'm pretty happy with it. I think I made some good choices on the day, hanging back and doling out my effort wisely while others used themselves up early and bombed out. Every now and then we old guys manage to play our cards pretty well, I suppose.

Now I'll await the updated Grand Prix results to see how things come together. I'd been tied for first overall, but only third in my age group, through some vagaries of scoring (that escape me) and the fact that the series is still not quite half complete. We'll see how the rest of the year goes. Thanks to the organizers, volunteers, and everyone else at Sour Grapes. You put on a great race. I'll come back next year for sure if you promise cold rain!

A Tractor Makes a Rather Poor Race Car

I took my best shot at a 5k on Memorial Day at the Brian Kraft Memorial 5k around Lake Nokomis in Minneapolis. It didn't go so well. I have no speed in these old legs. I watched rather helplessly while over 120 others ran away from me. I was barely hanging on to average 6:00 minute per mile pace. I finished in 18:36, good for only 11th in the 50-59 age group. Results. 


I don't have a lot of excuses. It was a flat course, and a rather competitive field up front, so that should have pulled me along in the current. It was a bit warm and humid for me, but frankly even under ideal conditions I'm not sure that I could have gone more than a couple seconds faster per mile. I have to face the music: short and fast stuff is simply not my forte (as if it ever was). I was wheezing like an old plow horse the entire way, as I performed the infamous slow-fade - running every mile slower than the one before.

Bottom line: A tractor doesn't make a very good race car.

Kudos to those 10 old guys who buried me. Nice running, gentlemen, you have my admiration and my envy.


I'm heading back to the trails for a couple of longer races in June, the Sour Grapes Half-marathon and the William O'Brien 10 miler, much more to my liking - especially if they are run in torrential rain and wind through deep muddy puddles.