Pinhoti 100 (or is that 52?) Race Recap

The Louisiana crew including Will Sprouse, but missing David.  Sam (far right) and David would prove to be the only two from our group to cross the finish line this year.

Saturday's Pinhoti 100 started as most trail races do, inconspicuously. Everyone lined up at an invisible starting line, counted down from 10, then someone said "Go", and we were off - for about a minute until the crowd of runners all hit a bottleneck trying to cram onto a single track trail, where we found ourselves at a complete stop.  There was a bit of grumbling but for the most part everyone just laughed about it until we were finally able to all squeeze in and start our race.

When watching the extended weather forecast in advance of the race, the high temperatures went from 50's to 60's and finally settling into the upper 70's, with the overnight low being 58 degrees.  Much warmer than is ideal for a race of this distance, and considering the accompanying high humidity, it made for a steamy day.  By the time I reached the first aid station about 6 miles in, I was already drenched with sweat and I would stay that way for the entire race. 

 

Foot care at the first aid station - feet were already soaked by two ankle deep water crossings.

In the race description, the first 40 miles are described as "rolling hills" with the larger climbs being on the second half of the race.  Well, sorta.  The first 40 miles actually has more than half of the elevation gain of the entire course.  That would have been good information to know going into the event. For my friends familiar with Eagle Rock loop in Arkansas, the "rolling hills" in the first 40 miles are similar to the climbs on that trail.  Some of the climbs are long and steep - on one of the first climbs, there were a few runners, myself included, who had to stop half way up to catch our breath and wrap our brains around the rest of the climb.  Rolling hills.  This was also the section where I saw incredibly fit people having their hands pushing down on their knees to help them in the climb.  Rolling hills.  The most common quote heard on that sections was some variation of "Rolling hills my ass". 

First 40 looks pretty tame, doesn't it?

BUT - this was an incredibly beautiful section as well.  The climbs were rewarded by views of hillsides covered by vivid fall colors.  One view, in particular, was right after you rounded a corner on a climb and it completely took the little breath I had away.  It was stunning and it looked like the hillside was on fire with color.  When another runner rounded the corner behind me, he let out a loud "Woop" when he saw it, and all I could do was smile.  

Not my picture, but this is Mt. Cheaha.  The colors are much more vibrant in person.

As I mentioned before, the temperature was a real issue during the race.  With the temps and humidity, the race staff was not quite as prepared as they could have been for how much fluid the runners would require.  There were a few aid stations that ran out of different types of drinks (Coke, Ginger Ale - both important during ultras for settling sour stomachs), and by the time the later runners went through, some were out of water as well.  I suspect this might have been partially responsible for some of the carnage that I saw at the aid stations and along the trail - runners vomiting, full body cramps, etc.  Over the 10 year history of this race, this is the second hot year, and I think it caught the organizers by surprise.

Despite the lack of fluids at some of the aid stations, the volunteers for this race were incredible.  The BUTS (Birmingham Ultra Trail Society, or something like that) group at mile 27 were the all out winners in my book.  You could hear their aid station before you saw it - or should I say, you could hear very loud Jimmy Hendrix music filling the woods well before you could see the aid station.  It was so welcome, as their aid station came right in the hottest part of the day.   Just before their aid station was a gorgeous waterfall.  I stopped with a couple of other runners for a second to enjoy the view, then started the climb up to the aid station.  This climb was made immensely more pleasant after crossing runners who were leaving the aid station with popsicles in their hands. As hot as we were, this was a much needed boost.

Leaving the BUTS aid station, I knew I only had a half marathon to run before I could pick up my first pacer, Kelly.  Usually during a 100, I don't pick up a pacer until 60 miles or so, and I was a little concerned that I wouldn't be ready for company that soon.  On this day though, I was counting down the aid stations until I would get to have someone to keep me company. On this day, the plan was to get Kelly from mile 40 - 65 and Fawn from 65 to the finish.  The other runners that I was meeting were fighting their own demons with the tough conditions, so someone with a fresh attitude would be very welcome.

So happy to have company for the night time portion of the race! 

At this race, you can pick up a pacer at mile 40, at the top of Bald Rock (or Mt. Cheaha, the highest point in Alabama).  According to the elevation profile of the course, this appeared to be the steepest climb of the race.  After some of the climbs that we had already done to get to this point, the climb up Bald Rock was not anything new.  Yes, there were rocky sections as you approached the top, and yes it was steep, but at that point it was just more of the same.  Knowing that I would get to see my crew at the top was all the motivation I needed to get to the top of the mountain.  Randy, Kelly, Fawn and Justin had given up their weekend to come out to Pinhoti to support me and the other Louisiana runners there, and words can not express how grateful I am for each of them.

This was a critical aid station for a few reasons - it was the last one I would see during the daylight - so it was time to don my headlamp.  It was also near the halfway point so it was time to do a little housekeeping - change out of my soaked shirt to put on a fresh one (which would also be soaked with sweat within a few miles, but still worth it), put on dry socks (my feet had been soaked from water crossings within the first 5 miles of the race, and would be soaked again from water crossings soon after changing, but again, still worth it), reapply lube to any place that might have friction to avoid chafing (TOTALLY worth it!), visit the restroom (the only one on the trail other than the start line (except for the woods - natures restroom), and take in some much needed calories to get me through a night of running.  Thankfully, this aid station was very well stocked, so I took advantage of it by enjoying some chicken noodle soup, some coke and grabbing a couple of cookies for the road, or trail as it was.

So, Randy helped get me ready and restocked and Kelly and I took off towards Blue Hell - the infamous descent down Mt Cheaha.  Evidently this section is well known for not being well marked and it being easy to get off trail and lost, because numerous people warned us about it, so we were going to be extra attentive in looking for the course markings. 

To give you an idea of what Blue Hell looks like in the daytime.  Not sure if he is running or in the process of falling.

Kelly and I get into the line of runners heading down Blue Hell.  Since it is such a steep descent, I wasn't comfortable having runners right behind me, so I told Kelly to pull aside and let them pass us so we could take our time.  Once everyone passed, we started our descent behind an older gentleman named Ed.  Ed was also taking his time on this tough section because he didn't want to "fall and crack my skull open" - I had to agree with him there.  At this point, my legs were feeling the fatigue and I didn't completely trust them so I went down a good portion of Blue Hell by scooting on my butt.  We hiked, tiptoed, scooted down Blue Hell behind Ed until he mentioned that it had been a while since he had seen a flag.  At this point we all realized that we were so focused on avoiding grave bodily injury that we had also lost sight of the course markings.  Insert foul language here.  

We all agreed that one way or another we had to get down, so we decided to continue our descent and look for flags around the bottom.  Bad idea.  When we got to the bottom, we looked and found nothing.  Kelly climbed the hill to the right to look over it for flags, nothing.  Ed yelled "Hello" ... nothing.  This is when Ed decided to climb back up and try to find where we lost the flags, and Kelly called Fawn (for some crazy reason, we had coverage) and had her text us the coordinates to the next aid station.  Worst case scenario, we could hike through the woods in the direction of the aid station and hopefully stumble upon the trail.

After a few slips on the steep climb, giving us all a scare, Ed saw a headlight approaching and yelled at the runner, getting him to stop.  He yelled back down to us that he found someone, so we started climbing in that direction.  It looked something like this:

Clearly not me, but this is some other dude climbing up Blue Hell. He got this treat in the daytime.

This was a big mental hit for me.  I started the race conservatively as planned, and slowly gained time to put myself right at my 26 hour pace that I was aiming for.  This little detour caused me to start thinking too much:  How much time had we spent down there?  How much energy had I wasted worrying about whether we would find our way out any time soon?  What toll would the extra effort take out of me?

We made it to the top, all along the climb begging the other runner and Ed not to leave us there.  Of course they wouldn't  have, but it seemed important at the time to emphasize the point.

Once we were off of Mt Cheaha, and on a jeep road section, we were able to laugh at what had just happened, and head to the next aid station where Randy was waiting.  When I got there, Randy told me that I had 30 minutes to get out of that aid station to stay ahead of the cut off.  I never take more than 5 minutes in an aid station except for major maintenance, and then no more than 10 - 15 minutes, so that wasn't going to be a problem, but it made that concern that was in the back of my mind come into full focus.  Now, I was no longer pushing forward to get back to my 26 hour pace, I felt like I was being chased by the clock, and I didn't like it.

Kelly and I scooted out of there in plenty of time and headed to the next aid station which was just shy of 7 miles away.  The Hubbard Creek aid station folks are famous for their hospitality and making their aid station a little too comfortable for the runners.  They consist of mainly Boy Scout parents.  Years ago, the RD was looking for volunteers to work his aid stations, so he enlisted the help of the scouts.  The Scoutmaster requested the most remote aid station possible to turn this into a camping experience as well as a community service project for the boys.  Well, fast forward a few years and the scouts have all aged out of the program, but the parents have so much fun volunteering to help out the runners, they have continued the tradition and added a few friends to the mix along the way.  And they had a pizza oven and full bar.  Seriously.

The section heading into Hubbard Creek is a tricky one for footing - narrow, technical trail with a big drop off to reward any missteps.  I knew we were losing time here because my legs were heavy and my footsteps were clumsy - and this combination on this particular section of the trail was making me nervous about serious injury.  At one point, I planted my foot on a smooth rock on the trail and slipped, grabbing on to the hillside by the roots sticking out of it, all the while making up new curse words and creating new ways to use old ones. Once I got my legs back under me, I looked up at Kelly and said something profoundly poetic like, "F this race and F this trail, I'm done".  And with that, the decision was made.  Well, mostly.  Kelly spent the next few miles trying to talk me into continuing, even though we knew at the next aid station we would now only be 10 minutes ahead of the cutoff.  

This is where I have to give big props to Kelly.  She did a solid job as a pacer.  She kept up the conversation, made me laugh, and kept us moving forward at a good pace.  It really was great to have her out there, and it was also good that she knows me well enough to know when to respect the decision I have made.  Kelly is a solid friend to have.  (And she LOVES the word moist. Next time you are around her, be sure to work it into the conversation.)

By the time we pulled into the aid station, I was comfortable with my decision to drop.  With only a 10 minute lead on the cutoff and the largest climb ahead of me, I figured timing out (missing the cutoff) of this race was inevitable at some point, so I may as well live to fight another day.  I declined the volunteers offer of Fireball, but took them up on the grilled cheese sandwiches and waited for Randy to come pick us up. Not the way I envisioned my race ending, but better than this guy:

A runner at Hubbard Creek who had been vomiting for the previous 6 hours, and the aid station nurse, Jaycee, keeping watch over him.

I leave you with a few things that experience has taught me that may or may not resonate with you:

• Someone asked if I was upset about all that wasted training... There is no such thing as wasted training.  I am not training for one race, but for life.  I want to be fit and healthy enough to jump into any cool adventure that might come along. Every mile run and parking tower climbed brought me to a better understanding of my mind and body, and deepened the relationships with the people I shared them with.  No such thing as wasted training.
• Someone asked if I would regret dropping...No.  I don't spend much time looking backwards.  Everything that happens in life happens for a reason, and that reason may not be something I am ever privy to.  It could be that through my handling defeat graciously, someone else is encouraged to take a risk of their own... who knows, but no, I don't do regret.
• I am not defined by one thing that I do.  It is just one thing that I do.  I don't call myself an ultrarunner because it is such a small part of who I am.  Because my identity is not closely tied to this one thing, it is easier for me to make objective decisions during a race.  I entered this race fully expecting to come home with a buckle - to the extent that I was a little aggravated that I had forgotten my belt at home.  Had I packed my belt like I intended, when I returned home yesterday I would have just unpacked it and put it back on the shelf for future use. 

It was just a bad day on a tough course.  The race had a 45% drop rate, and had half of the sub 24 hour finishers as previous years.  Tough day for many well trained athletes, but for the ones who pushed through and were able to finish ... how amazing!!  We spent time at the finish line on Sunday waiting for friends to come through and cheering for other runners, and every one of them has my complete respect.  Ours is a beautiful sport and every finish line is a testament to the human spirit.  The fact that the finish line is not guaranteed is what makes it so glorious when you reach it.  

On to the next adventure.  Happy Running, Y'all!

Edie

26 Days

26 days.  That is how long I have until I toe the line at my next 100 mile race, Pinhoti.  26 days to figure out what clothes and shoes I am going to wear, what I will eat, what other essentials I will pack...  

26 days seems like a lifetime when it is something you have been looking forward to for 8 months now.  If I were a spreadsheet person, I could tell you how many miles I have run in preparation, but I'm not, so let's just say it is a fair amount.  Miles that included an unfathomable number of parking towers and speed intervals.  Miles that included buckets of sweat (remind me not to train for an early winter race again while living in south Louisiana - what was I thinking?).  Miles that included quality time with some of my absolute favorite human beings because running a 40 mile training run together is the best way to discover someone's true character.  And,  I am happy to say that my suspicions were confirmed -  I have the most incredible friends.

These knuckleheads are pacing me.  Don't leave your phone with them or you will get back to this.

And this one is crewing for me.  I am in good hands, and there will definitely be beer.

So here I am entering my peak week of training, facing 75 miles or so of running in record heat for this time of year.  Seriously, all I can do is laugh about it.  I will wrap up this week with a 50 mile run on top of the levee on Saturday with a group of like-minded fools who actually get together and do this stuff for fun, then I get to taper.  I say that like it is a blessing, but I actually dislike the taper because that is when all of the self doubt and phantom pains set in, and miraculously disappear when you get to the race site.

What a tremendous blessing it has been, this training season.  Saturday will be my 5th ultra distance training run (any distance over a marathon - 26.2 miles), and in a strange way, while I am tired and ready to race, I am not in a rush for the training to end.  I decided early on in this training to embrace the journey, and I have.  I have actually enjoyed it, leg cramps and dry heaves included.

So 26 days from now I get to run a point to point 100 mile run on the trails in Talladega National Forest.  We will start at 7 am, and I will finish when I have covered 100 miles, whenever that is.  I am truly happy about getting to experience the 100 mile journey again.  I have completed the distance 4 times in the past, and every time I have learned more about myself and how I deal with adversity.  I can't wait to see what this race teaches me.  My 100 mile experiences have helped to form me in my personal and professional life more than anything else.  I remember telling a friend once when he was training for his first 100 miler, when asked about the distance, "It will scrape you to your core.  You'd better like what you find there."  I am curious to see what I will find there this time.

Happy Running, Y'all!

Edie

I wouldn't have listened either.

Now don't take the title of this post as being negative - it is just being honest about the potential good this may do, but I figure it is worth a try.  It's the age old saying, "If one person is helped..."

A few months ago I noticed an odd spot on my shoulder.  I am fair skinned and freckle/burn easily so I am always very aware of any changes in my skin.  After watching the spot for a bit to see what it would do, I decided to get it checked out.  I called a couple of dermatologists on my insurance and the answer was the same - we can see you in six months.  Wow - did I ever go into the wrong business!  Luckily, a trail running friend also happens to be married to a dermatologist, and after contacting them they were able to see me sooner.  Good thing, too, since the diagnosis was that the spot was basal cell carcinoma.  Skin cancer.  It is a "good" cancer to get, if you have to get one at all, but it still has to be removed or it will continue to grow.  The skin immediately around the spot had to be removed as well to be sure they got it all, leading to a slightly larger scar, but also more peace of mind.

Since my doctor is married to a runner, she understood what she was dealing with.  When asked about running post surgery, she just asked me to give her two days of rest because of the increased bleeding risk from the incision, so I did.  The surgery was on Monday, so I moved my Tuesday run to early Monday morning and took the following two days off.  My Saturday long run was a little uncomfortable with stitches in my shoulder, but she cleared me to do it, just saying to refrain from excessive arm movement.  It was a hot, humid slog for a little over 2 hours.  I am not sure my legs were actually moving, much less my arms.

My stitches were removed yesterday so now I am just left with this lovely scar, which will fade over time...

Now that I have had one instance of this, I am 50% more likely to have another pop up in the next 5 years.  All those years outside all day as a kid, and a couple of bad sunburns have taken their toll, but there are things I can do to prevent recurrence as much as possible.  I have begun wearing long sleeved UV protectant shirts and a hat on EVERY run, and I am wearing lotion with sunscreen on any exposed skin every day.  

I anticipated wearing long sleeves to run in south Louisiana summertime to be completely miserable, but I have been pleasantly surprised.  Believe it or not, once you soak through the shirt, even the slightest breeze created by running has a noticeable cooling effect.

So, here is the advice most of you will not heed. (As the title notes, I wouldn't have listened either.)  Consider looking into long sleeved UV tech shirts.  Save yourself any additional sun damage, and hopefully avoid getting a chunk of your skin cut off.  Or don't.  But if you are interested, here are the shirts I found that are a great price and not terribly heavy to run in.  

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01NCZ0XL1/ref=oh_aui_detailpage_o04_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1

Happy Running, Y'all!

Edie

What's next? The lure of 100 mile races.

What's next?  It's a tough question when you have run a bunch of half and whole marathons and 24 ultra marathons, including eight 50 milers and four 100 milers.  What's next?  The Grand Canyon?  Check.  (one of the top three most amazing experiences of my life, by the way) Running a 200 miler? .... Nah.  At least for right now, that is not on my bucket list.  Running a harder 100 miler?  BINGO!

After my last 100 - Rocky Raccoon in 2015 - I thought I was done with that distance.  I didn't make a firm declaration - I know better, but I thought getting the 500 mile jacket at Rocky would be the end of that era.  Not so much.

There is something about the 100 mile distance that draws you back.  Besides the thousands of miles run in training, hundreds of squats and push ups, hours holding the plank position....it's the journey on race day that can not be ignored.  The great unknown.  To me and people like me, it is downright irresistible.

The starting line of a 100 miler is unlike any other start line I have experienced.  At least for me, the nervous energy and doubts that fill my mind at shorter distances do not exist there.  In their place is a calm, peaceful feeling.  There is an understanding that what you are about to attempt defies rational thought.  Some people might think you are cool or superhuman for attempting a 100 miler, but most just think you are crazy or self-destructive. At the starting line, you understand that both schools of thought hold a grain of truth.

Many romanticize the idea of running 100 miles and getting a belt buckle.  The reality is far from that ideal.  The question is not if but when it will start to hurt.  The test is how well you can manage that pain and continue to push towards the finish line.  The lesson is who you are when you are laid bare and all of your truth is exposed for the world to see.

There is nothing like the feeling of seeing the finish line for a 100 miler.  All of the doubts, all of the pain, all of the weakness...it all disappears in that one moment.

2016 has been a nice break.  Fairly lazy except for covering 31 miles in the Grand Canyon,  and now I am rested and refocused.

Looking forward to signing up for the AT100 miler as soon as registration opens, and spending all of the summer of 2017 running hills at Clark Creek and loops of Chicot.  Top notch pacers are secured, and race crew is in place.  Now it is up to me to make it to the finish line so that I can wear that sweet belt buckle to my 47th birthday party.

Happy Running, Y'all!

Edie

Pacer

According to Western States 100 race doc, a pacer can be defined as:

A pace runner, or pacer, is defined as a “trail companion” who may accompany a runner along designated sections of the trail. Pacers are allowed solely as a safety consideration for fatigued runners in the remote and rugged territory of the Western States Trail. Absolutely no physical or mechanical aid may be given by the pacer to assist the runner over difficult sections of the trail (except in medical emergencies), and no food, fluids or supplies of any kind may be carried for the runner.

Pacers should be experienced trail runners in excellent physical shape and conditioned adequately to run 40 miles over rough terrain. Most pacing will be done during night time hours and early morning; so pacers should be warmly dressed, used to running with flashlights, and familiar with the trail. Pacers should be adequately supplied with flashlights, food and water. They may accept aid at the checkpoints.

A pacer is an encourager, therapist, drill sergeant, decision maker, guide...and so many things that can not be put into words. Ultra distance races allow pacers for the safety of the runner.  Many times, when you have been running for over 12 or so hours, you might not be in the position to make the best choices for yourself regarding whether you should eat, what you should eat, how close you should get to the edge of that cliff...your pacer is there to help you to overcome the unexplained desire to eat those peanut m&m's when you have a raging peanut allergy, and remind you that you might be shivering uncontrollably because your jacket is still tied around your waist.

Choosing a pacer is not something you should take lightly.  The wrong personality choice can be fatal to your race.  I have heard stories where after running 90 miles, a runner has to drop their pacer because the pacer is whining too much or the pacer simply can not keep up with their runner.  Before you make a knee jerk decision to ask your best buddy or your spouse (This can ruin your race at best and damage your marriage at worst.  Yes there are exceptions, but they are just that - exceptions) to pace you, there are a few things you need to consider.

First - What type of runner are you towards the end of a race when you are fatigued?  When you are feeling this way - what would you respond better to?  Do you want someone to be a cheerleader?  Comedian? Strong, silent type?  Drill sergeant?

Second - Out of your group of friends - who have you run enough long distances with so that you are familiar with their attitude when they are fatigued?  Pacing usually takes place in the later hours of a race when your pacer has already been standing around all day waiting on their chance to run with you.  They will be tired.  When night falls, they will be sleepy.  Whether they are doing 20 or 40 miles with you, they will be working hard under rough conditions.  You need to have a pretty good idea of someone's true grit before considering them as a pacer option. 

The best way to illustrate this is to tell you a few of my pacer stories.  As with every aspect of my 100 miler journey, this was a procession of bad to excellent choices.  Hopefully this can help you make the right decision.

ROCKY RACCOON 100 MILER 2011 - Pacer Disaster
Going into the 2011 100 miler (my first), I was planning to run the whole thing with a friend at the time.  This was a great idea until at mile 60 he was called away for a family emergency, leaving me facing the last 40 miles of my first 100 miler completely alone. I did mile 60 - 80 in the pitch black, sub freezing weather on my own.  You haven't lived until you find yourself trying to change the batteries of your headlamp while sitting on the side of the trail in complete darkness, next to a lake, with no other runners anywhere to be seen, using frozen hands and minimal fine motor skills due to exhaustion (probably 18 hours into the race at this point).  For mile 80-100 a well meaning person decided they would keep me company.  I would have been better on my own.  Every time I moaned from jamming a toe, they encouraged me to sit down, and they made sure I knew that this was really a hard thing for them and that they were still sore from a race they had run the previous weekend, etc., etc.  When at mile 93 I found myself thinking angrily about how I was going to do it better the next year...I knew I was hooked.  Finish time:  27:55

ROCKY RACCOON 100 MILER  2012 - Perfect pacers, terrible conditions
As soon as I healed from 2011, I started planning 2012.  First order of business - lining up pacers.  My two first thoughts were Mark Weineke (an experienced trail runner who has completed most of the toughest 100 milers in the US) and John Fell (a multiple Ironman finisher, mountain biker, and all around tough dude).  Luckily they both agreed, and 2012 I was ready and aiming for a sub 24 hour finish.  Mother Nature had a different idea, and after torrential downpours for most of the 100 miles, slogging through mud, rinsing sand out of my shoes....I finished in 25:28.  Shy of my goal, but I was satisfied considering the conditions.  Mark and John were wonderful pacers, and this run helped me to fine tune what I was looking for:  I like for my pacer to run slightly ahead and guide me along the trail, many runners like the pacer to run just off of their shoulder (even the side they want them on varies).  I also like for my pacer to keep light conversation but not to expect me to answer them.  Both of these guys were perfect at this.  But, I didn't reach my goal so when planning for the next year...

Mark Weineke - expert pacer, great guy!

ROCKY RACCOON 100 MILER 2013 - When the stars align
Just before putting my money down on RR2013, my first call was John Fell.  He not only agreed to pace me again for this redemption run, he offered to do the last 40 miles with me.  He had never run that far, but John is one of the toughest human beings I know, so I wasn't worried.  8 months of hard training later, and we find ourselves at Rocky.  I managed to stick exactly to my predicted splits for the first 60 miles, and knew that I would do whatever John told me to do for the last 40 miles.  John had run enough with me at that point to know me pretty well.  He would tell stories (he tells great stories) and told me from the beginning that if I wanted him to shut up just to tell him.  I told him he could talk all he wanted just not to expect much banter on my part.  I knew I would have to work harder than I ever had to achieve my goal, and I didn't want the pressure of conversation.

John would run slightly ahead of me and guide me to the smoothest sections of the trail (there are TONS of roots at RR).  When the roots got too nasty, we would walk for through them then run again.  When we got to aid stations, John did two things that were very important - he made sure I was getting the fuel I needed, but he also made sure he got all of the fuel that he needed.  A pacer who bonks is of no use to anyone.

On the last 20 mile loop, John started bargaining with me.  I was beyond rational thought at this point, and working on sheer survival instinct.  I can't even describe how this last loop feels.  You just have to experience it for yourself.  It was then that John told me that if I gave him 5 minutes of running, I would get to walk for 1 minute.  As I got more and more fatigued, he would tell me to give him 1 minute of running and I would get 1 minute of walking.  All this time John never looked at his watch, so I knew he wasn't really keeping time, but he somehow knew when I was almost at my breaking point because that is when he would let me walk.  It worked.  Finish time 23:27

This is just one example of many I could give of how the right pacer can make a world of difference in the kind of race you have.  What qualities in John Fell did I see that made me think he would be a good pacer for me?

1.  He is an experienced long distance athlete, and I know he is very familiar with suffering and would understand to some degree where I was at in my head.
2.  He is a plain spoken person - no bullshit or flattery - just truth.  I like that.  
3.  John has high expectations from himself and everyone around him.  I have tremendous respect for him and what he has achieved, and I would NEVER want to let him down.
4.  He is physically capable of completing the distance required of him and barring injury, I never had to worry about John slowing me down.
5.  We met prior to the race to go over race splits, nutrition plan, etc., so he knew exactly what plan I was following and what my goals were, and he was experienced enough to understand any spur of the moment changes that might need to be made.
6.  He wanted me to reach my goal almost as much as I did.

John Fell.  No words to explain this feeling.

To end a too long post, keep these things in mind:

Some people will find the idea of pacing you for an ultra distance race sexy or may think it sounds cool for them to say that they were a part of an ultra.  Avoid these people.  The idea may sound sexy but the reality is not.  If they are the type to make it about them, they are not the type to be of any help to you.

Some people will get their feelings hurt because you don't ask them to pace you.  Let them.  This is your race, not a popularity contest.  As with any task, you choose the tool that will most effectively help you to achieve your goal. If they are that sensitive, they would suck as a pacer anyway.

Because you think you might end up walking the last 10 miles of your race, don't pick a pacer who is only qualified to walk 10 miles.  If the stars align and you are crushing the course, the last thing you want to do is wait on a pacer.

When you choose a pacer, choose someone with thick skin.  You may not be rude necessarily later in the race, but you will be pretty raw and you will not give a damn about your pacers feelings....until a day or two later.  Choose someone with a good sense of humor.

Any specific questions about this topic, post on the Paix Running Facebook page or email me at PaixRunning@gmail.com.



Happy Running! 

Edie

From 100 pounds overweight to training for an ultramarathon...our very own Charles Thompson's journey

Sometimes you may be running alongside greatness and not even know it.  I know many in our group will feel that way after reading Charles Thompson's story.  We already knew he was a tough guy with a big heart, but now we get to understand just how tough he really is.  Check out Charles' story below.  WARNING:  Your excuses will seem pretty weak after this.

The display read 35 pounds. I had just put my bags on the scale at the heliport to go offshore again. As the woman behind the counter registered this, I filled out the sign-in log verifying that I had the certifications necessary to go out. Next was the part that I had come to loathe. It was my turn to step on the scale. Over the past months I had lost about five pounds, but had since lost my resolve. I stepped on the scale, making sure that the disappointment didn't register on my face. Still, I could not turn my gaze away from the scale's readout. 267 pounds. Five feet eleven inches tall and 267 pounds. "If I don't do something about this, my health will start to be affected," I thought.

 Up until that point, I really did not have any severely negative consequences due to my being overweight (obese if I am honest about what the height/weight charts read). My past trips to the doctor told me I needed to lose weight (I paid this man to tell me this?) and that I should keep an eye on my blood pressure as it was a little on the high side. The fact that I had not been to the doctor in about four years crossed my mind. "I've been fine; I AM fine," I had been telling myself. Never mind what I saw in the mirror. Never mind what I saw in the pictures of myself (I sure hoped the camera added about thirty pounds). "I'm overweight, but still healthy."

 Then my penny pinching side kicked in. My employer has a program designed to encourage you to live healthier. Each year you fill out a questionnaire about your eating habits and how much exercise you get. Tack in what your last blood pressure readings and what your cholesterol was at your last check and you can get a discount of $180 off the annual premium for your health insurance. Well, I had everything filled out except the last cholesterol readings. This was sufficient to get the discount, but my curiosity got the best of me and I wanted to fill EVERYTHING in (a little peek into my personality here). This prompted a decision, I now had to go back to the doctor. It won't be that bad, right? Appointment made, they wanted me to go into the office the week before to get my blood drawn. This way, I was told, the doctor can review my results with me right in the room in case I had any questions.

 I was ready for anything the doctor had to tell me. It was going to be just like all of my other appointments. "Charles," he was going to say, "you need to lose some weight and your chart shows that you have a history of high blood pressure in your family so you are going to need to keep a close eye on that." Just like that I would have my numbers that I can fill in on the next questionnaire; problem solved! 

Charles and his wife, Daisy.

Everything went fine with the physical examination until we started going over my blood work. My total cholesterol was fine at 158 but my HDL numbers were quite low (a good goal for men is above 40 and I was sitting at 29). My "slightly elevated" blood pressure had escalated to pre-hypertensive, and my liver numbers were "really strange" so he wanted to send me back to the lab after my appointment to have more blood drawn to test for hepatitis (What?!?). "When I see you this time next year, I will have to put you on blood pressure medication and probably something to help you raise your HDL levels, if you don't do something about it on your own." I had finally done it. I let myself get unhealthy because of my eating habits and my weight. "What can I do, besides the obvious 'lose weight'?" He told me that the only effective way he has seen to raise HDL levels without medicine is strenuous exercise. Not just exercise, HARD exercise. I needed to get my blood moving hard and fast. In addition to raising my HDL levels, this would have positive benefits like improving my liver numbers and losing weight. "Great! One recommendation would fix all of my problems! It's too bad that it involves exercise."

 I did not enjoy the prospect of being on a pill for the rest of my life. Choose diet and exercise? This was quite the eye opener. Pills or healthy living? I chose to get healthy. First I started with the diet since I could not afford a membership to the gym. Being the technology geek that I am, I started searching out a way for me to track the calories that I consumed. Of course - "there's an app for that!" Setting up the app and telling it how much weight I wanted to lose per week (I opted to go the max of 2 lbs), I started my adventure; not an easy feat since I worked offshore and had access to the Galley there. The food isn't always good, but there is ALWAYS a ton of it (or tonne as my current assignment was on a Danish flagged vessel)! The first week was not bad - not good, but not bad. I lost more than my two pounds and was feeling pretty good. Then weeks two and three reared their heads and I realized that I was HUNGRY! I continued to follow the calorie restrictions that I set for myself and after the first month I had lost 12 pounds!

 That is where my life took a turn. I lost my initial 12 pounds…and that was it for almost a month. In the back of my mind, I hear my doctor's advice again - exercise, hard exercise. "Alright…I can do this," I told myself. I had no access to any weight equipment, which was my first choice. My second choice was a bicycle, which I did not have - strike two. I had a pair of shoes in my closet - running shoes. These shoes had an "interesting" history since I purchased them using winnings from a game…the McDonald's "Monopoly" game! Odd that I would get a pair of running shoes thanks to a Big Mac and a large fry and that they would change my life.

 I crammed my feet in my shoes and tied them too tight - a runner I was not. I was going to give it a herculean effort however. I hopped in my car and drove around the neighborhood to determine the distance around (Is my geek showing again?) and came up with 1/2 mile. "Alright, I'm ready for this!" I started with a brisk walk to warm up - down to the first corner of the 1/2 mile loop. "Here we go…" I began running…and breathing…sucking air…gasping. I had made it down the stretch to the next corner and achieved victory! I walked for a minute, turned the next corner and took off running again. I didn't make it down the next leg when I felt "nature's call". I gingerly made my way back to the house, answered and then decided to take a shower. Warning: weak stomach alert! At this point I turned on the water to the shower and promptly threw-up! Overdid that one there Chuckie! Next time, take a longer victory lap and cool down better!

 I continued this routine, running from corner to mailbox; corner to corner…corner to the house. I built my way up to a mile steady running over the next month or so and was feeling pretty good about that! My exhilaration also extended to the bathroom scale - I was losing weight again! I steadily trotted along, pushing myself further and further towards my goal of weight-loss. I had set myself mini-goals of 10 pounds to lose. I also allowed myself one "Bust!" day per week (can you say Seafood Friday). Using this regimen of fewer calories, more exercise, mini-goals and bust-day, I began seeing great results. Five months into my journey I had lost 45 pounds. Month six was another good month and the scale showed 54 pounds total! I finished my first 5k and my first 10k - both under my goals of 30 minutes and 1 hour respectively.

 I lost 80 pounds in the nine months prior to my annual physical/visit to my GP. I was thrilled…and PROUD! What was the Doc going to say when he saw my success? I went in to have my blood-drawn the week prior to my appointment…excited! It was finally time to see the doctor. The nurse showed my back to the room and took my vitals. My blood pressure was great and my HR was lower than it had EVER been - a result of my conditioning and a mini-victory! Then we wait…and wait…and wait. The doctor entered and sat down next to me. He reviewed my chart, looking over my blood-work and began asking me questions about how I felt. "Great since I followed your advice and lost all that weight." He re-consulted the chart and was shocked at the year-on-year comparison of my weight. "Wow! I always make that recommendation hoping that one-day someone will follow it. You lost a lot of weight!" He asked me how and I told him that I started running and pushing away from the table. "Do you have any races or anything that you are training for?" I mentioned that I was training for my first Half Marathon and that I was tremendously nervous about it being such a far distance! "With the weight you lost I know that you have the drive to make it at least that far." Boy did that make me feel good. It was time to review my results from the lab. Blood Pressure - NORMAL. Liver numbers - NORMAL. HDL level - 43! Total cholesterol was in the 130s! JUBILATION!!  

Charles at Chicot during a trail run.

All of my hard work had paid off. I was healthy and I felt great. I no longer felt that deep disappointment when I saw a picture of myself. I was committed now and had actually begun to like running - something that I NEVER thought would happen. I started it as a means to reach my end goal. I noticed though that I was less stressed and even looked forward to the next run. I finished my Half Marathon and signed up for its big brother the very next week - the Marathon! That is how I came to be where I am today - a multiple marathon finisher who has an Ultra-Marathon on the horizon. A man who successfully lost 100 pounds through discipline, effort, grit and sheer determination. This is my story (minus a few details for posterity of course LOL). 

Charlie (left) with Randy Carlson after a trail run.

Happy Running, Y'all!

Edie