20 Muir Beach Trail Run – One Day Later

So as I sit here on my balcony, feeling cold and thinking about yesterday… what comes to mind? 

Running long trail runs is really really hard!  Neither Sarah nor I have felt so utterly broken and destroyed after a run (including Sarah’s sub 4 hour marathon a few years earlier).  Sitting at the dinner table yesterday, showered and in comfy, frumpy clothes… we didn’t want to get up!  Just going to get some hot water from the teapot was a mission accompanied by “ih, oh, ih oh.”

Nothing really hurt in particular – except for a modest soreness in my left knee and a little bit in the lower calf/Achilles region of both legs.  It’s just my whole body felt drained and stiff.  Like an old rusted, un-oiled grandfather’s clock that was done ticking, yet was being forced to tick some more by some inconsiderate bastard. 

20 miles took just over 5 hours.  Not a time we’re proud of, but good enough given the conditions and our own states of being.  I’m still battling some sort of throat bug that comes and goes and Sarah’s recovering from bronchitis and ear infection.  And speaking of conditions…

When I saw the weather forecast that it was going to rain, I didn’t anticipate the biblical deluge that was going to dump on us.  At one point, running on a hillside that normally faces the ocean (in our case it faced a wall of fog and clouds), we got barraged by buckets of water being flung at us by the crisp “breeze” from the ocean.  I at one point was running one-handed with my right hand covering my face and eye.  Luckily by that point I was feeling good and had my runner’s high and rhythm going which made it all OK.

I think running in the cold makes it that much more difficult for me.  My muscles just don’t quite get warm the same way and feel stiffer.  I think it makes them hurt sooner and makes me less flexible/agile during the run.  It seems my minimum comfortable temperature is got to be in the 60s.  Or maybe I just need to wear tights. 

The other thing we didn’t anticipate is the mudwrestling.  Not wrestling each other in the mud, but literally wrestling the mud itself.  I still recall Sarah exclaiming “Trail runners are ridiculous!” in reference to the race organizers putting the most intense uphill/downhill in the very beginning of the course.  It’s the sort of climb that you will not see at a popular city race even if it didn’t involve wrestling mud along with hundreds of other people.  The mud was so bad that most of us opted to walk up the hill on the side of the trail (which at that place was as wide as a road).  Those brave souls trying to run moved only marginally faster despite their best efforts.  The mud was so wet, sticky, and slick that just standing in one place, one starts to slide down.  The stickiness makes it harder to lift your shoes out once they’re in, requiring even more energy for every step. Though the fun part was going downhill the same route.  At first I went slower, being afraid to slip.  But then I got the hang of it and rolled with the punches - taking huge steps, sometimes jumps, and just sliding down on the mud, screaming "WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" like a little kid.  

What else can I say?  Having a community of people out there was really cool.  There were a bunch of volunteers that came out to man the aid stations.  Not being used to being so cared for, I remember looking bewildered when a guy at the final aid station sought me with “What do you need?  What can I get you?”  “Umm………”  “Sports drink!” Sarah cut in who apparently was more on the ball.  It was organized by Pacific Coast Trail Runs. 

It was cool getting some varied food that we wouldn’t pack on our own necessarily, like boiled potatoes and salt, cookies and gummy bears.  They also had stuff like Cliff Energy Shots disgusting-tasting-but-apparently-really-good-for-you-gummy-cubes.  And it was cool knowing we’re not the only crazy fuckers running around in the rain and 50 degree cold.  We’d pass a person every once in a while and say Hi.  Ask how they’re doing, how long they’re running, etc. 

We also met these two dudes who were training for the North Face 50 miler in December which will happen in that area.  We waved at them thinking they were from the race, and they wound up joining us.  I picked their brain a bit about downhill running technique as they were clearly faster than us and looked like they knew what they were doing.  They suggested taking way smaller steps and making it more frequent – something I was already doing or trying to – and combine that with kind of zig-zagging it skiing style.  Using the terrain and stepping slightly sideways to brake.  Makes a lot of sense as it doesn’t put direct braking pressure on the knees, so I’ll play with a bit.  Sounds like a ton of fun!

Finally, big props to Sarah who manned up and pushed through despite being clearly in worse shape than me (as far as recovery from her sickness).  We had a moment at the first aid station where we almost turned back.  I told Sarah I will be fine with whatever decision she made and that’s it.  I knew that the only person who could convince her to do it was herself.  It reminded me of a time when Scott Jurek in Born To Run was laying face down on the ground during the Badwater Ultramarathon… thinking about quitting.  His wife didn’t say anything because whatever happened had to come from Scott.  He got up and won it.  Sarah got back into it and we finished, which is victory as far as we’re concerned.

So I continue to gain respect for the 100 milers, particularly on trails.  They use a variety of muscles and skills beyond just running on roads.  I think to do one requires years of training and skill.  I’m still really excited at the prospect and the journey to get there!

More Running In The Rain

It poured all day yesterday.  Sarah was sick, so I did the long run on my own.  I figure, if I'm going to do be doing 100 milers, I have to thrive (or at least survive!) in any weather.  Was going to do 17 miles, but wound up doing around 14.  It was hard due to 1) cold, 2) wet ground is less springy, and jumping over puddles (should have jumped into them in retrospect - weee!)

I decided to cut it short because the ligament behind my left knee was feeling a little weird - it twinged when I tried to take bigger steps and work the left hamstring.  It felt similar towards the end of a 3 day bike tour.  I'll have to play with it.  I think the cold may have contributed to its stiffness.

I saw a mini flash flood where a stream about 1 foot wide full of dirt and debris flooded on top of a much smaller, clear stream.  That was cool and I got to jump over the incoming stream.  So was seeing a male deer with full antlers (or horns?).  My first thought was "oh, there is a deer chilling, this means there aren't any bears around... wait, what about all those times there wasn't a deer?"  Maybe I've been running for too long at that point.

Technique wise, I was trying to work on having my feet pointed slightly up before landing.  Overall, I had a hard time working on technique because I got tired and the ligament.  So particularly at the end I reverted to the shuffling step that has worked well for me.  It looks and feels somewhat awkward and is, I'm sure, inefficient, but I seem to be able to do it for a while without hurting myself, which is step 1.

So far I've been focusing on technique on shorter runs and largely doing what comfortable on longer runs where it's more important to go the distance and build the endurance.  My hope is that with time I can incorporate more and more good technique in my long runs.

Also, looking at my last few long runs, typically they go like this:

5-15 minutes (fresh beginning): everything feels great, muscles are fresh and fast

Next 30-60 minutes (warming up, going through the first wall): short of breath, muscles feel tired and achy - I can almost see the lactic acid flowing through them.  This is the time of self doubt and thoughts like "Why do I keep doing this to myself?" and "Maybe I should just slow down and walk."  I found that strategic walking actually can help quite a bit.  If the beginning of the run is uphill, which many are, taking even a 25 foot walking break, goes a long way to releasing the built up tension and recharging me to go lighter and faster.  I think it's this period that made distance running so hateful to me (and, I'm sure, many other people).  I think I'm slower to warm up than the average person - we found out from my time in sprints that it can take my body up to 1.5 hours to really get going.

Next ~60 minutes (peak, smooth sailing): body finally warmed up, breathing is easy, legs are churning.  It feels good, light, and elating.  I can go on like this forever - and that's why I grew to love running.

The last part (slowing down): the peak has typically been limited by my muscle endurance rather than energy.  While energy wise I usually feel fine and my breathing is easy and regular, my muscles or ligaments or what have you start aching here and there, which causes me to slow down and lose form.

I suppose the only way to fix that is to keep at it and make them stronger.

Oh, and about two new pieces of gear:
Merino Wool T by Stoic worked out really well.  Even though I was soaking wet the whole time, my upper body didn't feel nearly as cold as I did wearing Putin earlier in the week.

Also, Wrightsock no-blister socks worked great too - despite my feet completely soaked for 3 hours straight, no blisters, discomfort or irritations.  Compare to the aforementioned earlier run in the rain wearing normal socks where feet didn't get soaked, but I got at least one enormous blister.

Useful Running Technique Videos from New York Marathon

These are by the people who put up the New York Marathon.

Two I found particularly good are this one on posture and this one on leg movements.

It confirmed many of the things I knew, like clawing the ground, stepping on the front of the foot, but not on the toe, not heel striking, but also had some other good stuff, like pushing the leg forward via the hamstring, flexing the toes up on every step, and more.

Now, still need to find a good video on proper downhill running form.

Pretty Run, Sore Calves, and a Race for my Life

Went on an 11-mile run in Muir Woods on Saturday morning with Sarah.  We aimed for a 15 miler, but Sarah left her shoes at home, so we picked up new shoes along the way as well as a trail map of the Mt. Tam area.  Oh and of course lots of pumpkin spice Clif bars which you apparently can only find at the Sports Basement.

The map turned out to be a good decision as the wilderness has 50 miles of criss-crossing trails.

I really enjoyed the run.  It was my first run through a forest (I guess if we don't count a run-hike in Seattle).  I love forests.  They're my favorite landscape.  So lush and full of life and greenery.  And the ground is perfect for running - soft but not muddy.  Has ups and downs, but not rocky.

On this run I started out focusing on my form.  Not heel striking, but also making sure I don't stay too high up on my toes - so landing on sort of the front half of the foot.  And when landing, my foot is already going a little bit backwards, so there is a nice tap as opposed to a scrape which means I'm braking.

Also trying to use my hamstrings to sort of claw at the ground to get more forward before pushing off.  I'm not sure if I'm doing any of it right, but I watched a bunch of YouTube videos and it seems like that's the right thing to do.

The other thing I tried was Barefoot Ted's technique of tacking steep downhills.  He bends his knees a lot which lifts up the heels, helping them naturally contour the steeper slope and creating more traction.  He also takes way smaller steps.  That worked WONDERFULLY!!!  I went down a rather steep descent FAST!  Before I was trying to stay on my toes while keeping the legs as straight as during normal grades, and that just felt awkward - I was scraping and braking with my toes all the time while struggling not to bang on my heels and knees.  And now, I just glided down that thing - fast and light.  It was REALLY FUN!

Though I think all these experimentation combined with an 11 mile run on rough terrain finally did my calves in.  The right one particularly was hurting from experimenting with form for the previous few days.  So on the final 3 mile downhill stretch, I had a really rough time.  I was fine energetically, but the calf was wincing at every step.  So finally I gave in - got to listen to my body - and started landing more on the mid-foot or even heels.

In normal circumstances, we'd just slow down the pace or even walk... but I had to be at Pier 33 to start the tour of Alcatraz for a buddy's bachelor party at 2:30 (no later than 2:45).  The other problem was that when we first glanced at the map trying to calculate how much longer to go... we roughly estimated the way back to be a "couple" of miles which turned into three.  So despite the wincing calf, I had to book after Sarah who was sprinting ahead like it's everyday stuff.  And I'm glad she did.

We got to the car at 2:15 and Sarah drove out of there like a madwoman, taking those curves in the 1990s Toyota pick up with no power steering.  We were making great time until the traffic jam at the toll at Golden Gate - wish I had an EZ Pass!  I don't know if that's a law of physics, but whenever you're in a hurry, you always wind up in the slowest lane.  This was no exception.  We fumed and shook our fists at the slow bridge worker and the slow people who didn't have their cash ready.

Past the bridge, we hit an unlucky streak of traffic lights as I frantically called Bill and pleaded with them to beg the gate guard to keep it open for just a tad longer.  AND WHAT THE FUCK is that dude on a skate board doing in the middle of a busy street right in front of us?!?!??!  "Calm down" said Sarah, "he's not going any slower than us."  True... DOH!

I jump out of the car and run across traffic, sprint to the gate - wincing calves or no, it's all or nothing now.  Oh so crowded - where are they?!?!?!?!?!  I poke my head here and there... oh shit..

"Dima!  Dima!" - I follow the screams and find two of my buddies way ahead on the pier.  I run up there, and squeeze through as the gatekeeper locks the gate after me.  I bow down in gratitude, run onto the boat and take a breath as it pushes off.

"Dima, you're a crazy man."

Yes.