I write a lot for my job, and I generally don’t find writing hard to do other than getting the time.  Now I have the time, because I’m on vacation this week.  Yet I have a feeling this may be the hardest piece of writing I’ve ever done.  The summary, for those who haven’t yet heard, is that I was unable to complete the BR100 – I had to drop out at 64.1 miles due to an injury.  I’m suspecting a (hopefully) minor stress fracture of the tibia, but that’s just an educated guess – we’ll see what the doctor has to say today or tomorrow.  I developed this injury about three weeks ago, although only my family and training partners knew about it.  I was hoping that extra rest in the weeks before the race would take care of things, but I ended up going to the line at slightly less than 100%.  It’s now a couple days after the race, and I’m trying to process this unexpected turn of events and make some sense of it. 

 

At the moment, this seems devastating on several different levels.  After all the time and effort I put into training, to not finish feels like the world has come to an end.  The selfish runner part of me wanted so badly to finish for me. If you are a runner (or have ever competed in any sport) then you understand what I mean.  But that’s just one piece of it.  Because of all the on-course support from family and friends (more on that below), I wanted so badly to finish as a way of thanking each of them.  With dozens of emails, phone calls, and Facebook postings of encouragement and support in the days leading up to the race – even a few from people I don’t even know, but had heard about what I was doing through friends and co-workers – I felt like there was this huge group of people following what I was doing and that I wanted to make proud.  Maybe most painful is to not finish after all the great publicity we generated and all the support of 100 Miles For Life.  As I’m writing this, I don’t know that the current campaign total is, but I suspect it’s close to $10,000 now and well over 100 people have contributed.  When I think about everyone who generously donated money to support The Gathering Place, and TGP staff who were so engaged and helpful (and even came out to the race!) and all the recipients of TGP services, I think I feel most sad.  I know that the race doesn’t diminish the value of the campaign. But for me, the two things were halves of one bigger thing.  The idea was for them to be successful together.

 

I’ve had many calls and emails the last two days from family and friends and co-workers offering congratulations on the race.  Each of them has said that 64.1 miles is a great accomplishment and they are happy for and proud of me.  A few have said they have been inspired by me to try something – a marathon, an ultra, a triathlon, or even a fundraising campaign of their own. I really appreciate all those thoughts. They mean a great deal, particularly the inspired part.  If I can inspire someone else to try something they didn’t think was possible, then maybe this whole effort had yet another positive impact that I didn’t anticipate.  I hope everyone who sent well-wishes will bear with me as I work through the backlog of messages.  I want to respond to everyone personally, as your thoughts mean a lot to me.

 

Now here’s the part that some of you probably won’t understand, and PLEASE do not take this as being unappreciative, or negative, or harsh.  All the messages of congratulations on the race are also a bit painful. It’s hard to accept such really wonderful compliments about running 64 miles when I stopped 36 miles short of the goal.  In 100-mile endurance events, you either finish or you don’t – no more credit for 99.9 miles than for 1 mile. I’m sure that sounds like an attitude of “win at all costs” or “all that matters is winning”.  It’s really not – it’s about achieving the goal I planned and trained for. I had trained to run 100 miles and I had the ability to run 100 miles.  I did the hard work and stuck to my plan. I think for that reason I struggle with calling the race a success in any way.  Maybe I will change my perspective on that.  A good friend who competes in a variety of sports just sent me an email which actually helped in this regard.  He said that his worst defeats have contributed the most to his greatest successes because they’ve given him mental toughness.  In that spirit, I’m sure I can learn some useful things from this race, even though I didn’t finish.  I will have to start looking at it in that light.   

 

Another extremely close friend, who I don’t get to see or talk to very often, wrote the following to me in an email just four days before the race.  People tell me I’m a good writer, but I know I could never even come close to this:

 

“You must be crazy.  Or at least everyone I have told this seems to believe.  I have to admit I am on their side.  But having seen the things you have accomplished, I would lay a large amount of money on you finishing all 100 miles.  But it really doesn’t matter to me if you finish all 100-75-50 or even do just a regular marathon.  You are still a hero to me for lacing them up and training for months to compete in this thing.  100 miles, no sweat.  Thousands of miles in preparation -- that is where the heroics lie.”

 

How prophetic his words turned out to be.  And what a great thought that we should all keep in mind – whether the “preparation” in question is sport-related, career-related, or family-related.  I am going to be printing that paragraph and pasting it on my wall to read every day. I suggest you do the same. It’s a lesson about life.

 

Anyway, I think that covers the basics about the result of the race and my current emotional state.  Physically, aside from the leg injury, I am no more sore today than after a marathon. Possibly even less now. I find it quite amazing what the body can do with the right training and care.  It really drives home the point that most people have no idea what they are physically capable of doing.  I’m just an average guy.  I never was an athlete, and never ran seriously until just a few years ago.  Even “crazy” stuff, like a 100-mile ultra marathon, isn’t remotely near the realm of impossible. You just need to pick a goal, make a plan. get started, and work at it.

 

If you would like a detailed account of the race from my perspective, then read on.  But before you do, please accept my thanks once again for your interest, support, and concern!

 

After completing the last week of heavy training (slightly over 100 miles, with a 52+ mile weekend), I dropped down to about 50 miles the following week.  This was partly due to having to travel for work, and also because I knew I had really pushed it over the last few weeks.  During each of the runs that week, I had some discomfort in my right lower leg, even a bit of pain.  I continued to feel it in everyday activity (walking around the house or whatever) during that week as well, and into the following week.  A couple of days, I had pain walking, in particular when going up and down stairs.  The pain wasn’t bad, but I could definitely feel that the leg was weak.  There was no other evidence of injury – no swelling, bruising, or pain when applying pressure.  After the first couple runs of the following week, the weakness and pain was still there, so I knew I had a problem.  I suspected a stress fracture but don’t have enough experience to self-diagnose. On the advice of my good friend and running mentor, Wyatt Hornsby, I cut the taper running short and did not do any other workouts from 1.5 weeks out. I rested and iced the leg during that time and could tell things were getting better.  In the last few days before the race, the leg felt stronger and I had no pain.  But occasionally when walking or even just standing, I could feel that something was still not right – just a periodic feeling of weakness and sensitivity.  But with no more pain, I figured would stick to the plan and hope for the best.

 

As race day approached, I grew more and more nervous.  I would have been scared anyway, but the added concern of running with an injury made things really stressful.  I knew I could go 10 or 20 miles the way my leg felt, but 100 was a question mark.  I tried to focus on preparation of supplies, drop bags, crew instructions, etc, taking comfort in the thought that more rest would do the trick and remembering the quality of the training I had done all along the way.  This helped, and I think I gained some confidence during the last week because of the extra rest, although it was punctuated by moments of panic when I thought about the magnitude of the challenge ahead.

 

Friday evening I drove down to Cuyahoga Falls (site of the finish line) to check in, pick up my race packet, and turn in my drop bags  Tami rode down with me and we picked up Tim on the way as he was planning to head down around the same time anyway.  Check-in was pretty uneventful.  I got my number, had my picture taken (Jim Chaney & team did a great job this year with the timing and webcast, including photos of all entrants), left my bags, and took a look at some of the clothes and merchandise they were showing.  I skipped the pasta dinner, as we were planning our own at home.  We got back home and our friends Brian and Alesia Roeth arrived shortly after from Cincinnati.  Brian and I ran Columbus together last October and he’s been interested in seeing an ultra.  I also was fortunate to have the option of using him as a backup pacer in case I decided to drop out of the national championship and into the open division later in the race.  We had a great dinner and visited for awhile, as I finished my preparations (race number on shorts, laying out supplies I needed in the morning, setting alarms, etc).  While everyone helped wrap up loading of supplies for the morning, I took a quick shower and went to bed about 8:30, hoping for 6+ hours of sleep.  Surprisingly, I got to sleep pretty easily, although I woke up around 10:30 or 11:00 before drifting off again. 

 

I woke up for good at about 3:00, shortly before the alarms went off, feeling like I had slept enough.  Did all my usual prep before a race, including some extra stretching.  My leg felt pretty solid.  This was encouraging and helped to calm my nerves a bit.  The weather was looking good – somewhat cool (about 60F), 30% chance of rain, and no prediction of thunderstorms (which we’ve been having a lot of lately).  Tim drove over at 4:00 to leave his car at our house and ride with us to the start.  Brian was up early and was able to go with us too.  I was happy about that because Tami wouldn’t have to wait for me alone at the Polo Field aid station (we had decided to let the kids sleep a bit, and she would bring them to Station Rd Bridge later in the morning – the huge advantage of having miles 10-20 less than 10 minutes from our house). 

 

We got to Squire’s Castle just past 4:30, right at the same time the buses from the starting line were arriving with those runners who didn’t have crew to bring them to the start.  There was already a pretty big crowd, both runners and spectators.  We made our way over to the check-in tent and gave our race numbers.  About 4:45, Joe Jurczyk (race director) asked everyone to line up at the start for final instructions.  I said goodbye to Tami and Brian and jogged over to the line, looking for Tim along the way as I had lost track of him when I went to check in.  I never did find him to wish him good luck, but saw a few other familiar faces.  It was pretty exciting standing there with 250+ other runners, in front of the castle bathed in light via the portable generators.  Joe J reiterated a few key rules, then turned the microphone over to one of the aid station captains (can’t remember her name) who sang the national anthem.  I purposely positioned myself at the back of the pack in order to avoid going out too fast.

 

 At precisely 5AM, Joe sounded the start, many of the runners and spectators cheered, and we were off down the long lawn in front of the castle, with the path to the road marked by glow sticks.  I actually heard a few people blowing what sounded like those vuvuzelas from the World Cup!  I looked to the side to see Tami and Brian, but could not find them in the darkness.  We reached Chagrin River Rd within a minute and turned south, with the pack moving to the left-hand side.  I had decided not to wear a headlamp at the start, assuming that many other people would.  This turned out to be a wise choice – there was plenty of light from the lamps of other runners, and with sunrise just over an hour away it would have been a waste.  I tried to focus on getting into a slow and comfortable rhythm.  Since the first two segments (9.6 miles total) were on the road, I was wearing cushioned road shoes and so far my leg felt fine – still not 100% but no pain and no real weakness.  As we continued down River Rd, cars with crews and spectators passed us on the right, with many honking horns and shouting encouragement. I stayed on the right side of the group, hoping I would see Tami and Brian go by, which I did after about 10 minutes. 

 

I wasn’t wearing my Garmin because I didn’t want to be overly obsessive about pace and the battery wouldn’t last more than 8 hours anyway, so I tried based on feel to run what I thought was about a 9:30 or 10:00 pace.  I had decided to run slower than initially planned, hoping to minimize the risk of aggravating whatever was wrong with my leg.  This seemed to work well, and I was pretty comfortable after a couple miles.  At one point, I looked to my right and saw a guy slightly behind me, wearing a kilt and running barefoot.  I slowed up just a little to talk with him.  This turned out to be Jason Robillard, the “barefoot runner” from Michigan.  We had a nice chat over the next 2.5 miles, during which I asked him questions I’ve sure he’s answered a million times, like “don’t you get cut by glass on the road?” and “will you really run barefoot when we get to the rocky trails?”.  Jason ran Burning River in 2008, but was unable to finish.  He was back to see if he could go the whole way this time.  It was an interesting conversation and made the first segment fly by very quickly.  I reached the Old Mill aid station in about 50:00, a good slow pace. 

 

The 2^nd road segment was also pretty quick and mostly uneventful.  Local runner Frank Duchossois caught up to me at around 6 or 7 miles.  I had met him on a training run a couple months back with Tim.  We chatted over the next couple miles and then Frank pulled ahead as we neared the Polo Field aid station.  I would see Frank several more times over the next few hours, as he’d move ahead and I’d catch up to him again.  I reached the Polo Field right on schedule, in about 1:38. There were quite a few spectators applauding the runners coming in.  Since this was very early in the race, the aid station was very crowded.  I got my bottle refilled with water, grabbed a few pieces of hard-boiled egg from Tami and got going again.  I had originally planned to change to trail shoes here, as the race moved off the roads at this point.  But the road shoes were feeling good and I knew the next 9 miles to Shadow Lake were not very technical, so I decided to stick with the Asics.

 

I felt very good leaving Polo Field, and had mostly stopped worrying about my leg.  I was now on my “home field”, having run this section of trail dozens of times in the last couple months of training.  I also knew that some of my usual Saturday morning running group would likely be coming the opposite way down the trail sometime after 7:00.  The 3 miles to the sledding hill were smooth, although I got my feet a bit wet in Willey Creek as there was still a decent amount of water from storms earlier in the week.  Otherwise, the trails were remarkably dry, as would be the case all throughout the day.  I passed a few guys from my Saturday group shortly before Sulphur Springs, and it was great to hear their encouragement as I went by. 

 

The first significant climb of the race started after Sulphur Springs on the way up to Harper Ridge. Since I was feeling good and this was very familiar trail, I found myself habitually running up the hills, and had to make a conscious effort to break them up with some walking to save strength.  Still, I was making pretty good time and reached Harper Ridge (15.4 miles) also on schedule.  A friend, Sara Hill, was directing traffic at the aid station and greeted me coming in.  Sara seemed to be volunteering everywhere on the course throughout the day – would see her later at Station Rd, Snowville Rd, Boston Store, Pine Lane, and Happy Days.  I grabbed some boiled potatoes while the volunteers refilled my bottle, and then headed back out on the trail.  I was looking forward to the 3.2 miles of nearly all downhill to Shadow Lake where I could see my crew again. 

 

I reached Shadow Lake (18.6 miles) about 30 minutes later, and ran strong into the aid station.  There were a good number of spectators here, and I was surprised to see how many were there for me!  Not only Tami and the kids, but my brother, one of my sisters, my mom, Tami’s parents, her brother, some friends, and a bunch of nieces and nephews – the kids had even made some great posters for me!  Tami helped me switch to trail shoes in the aid station, then I walked over to greet everyone as I ate.  I took on a 2^nd hand-held at this point, so I could have 20oz of water and 20oz of HEED with me.  I also carried 200 calories of GU in the handheld zipper pockets.  I left Shadow Lake feeling very comfortable and was amazed at how energized seeing that large group of people had made me. 

 

A side note here about my nutrition and hydration strategy.  In previous ultras, I think I did a poor job of proactively managing this aspect of the race.  I would eat whatever looked good, and didn’t pay attention to how much liquid I was getting.  I knew I had to do better at that.  So I decided to try to get 300 calories and at least 20-30ozs of fluid an hour. Looking back at the race, I figure that on each segment (and most lasted from about 50 mins to 90 minutes) I was taking in around 250 calories in a combination of liquid (Hammer HEED) and chewable (GU Chomps) form.  These seemed to supply pretty steady energy – I never felt drained and never had any trouble digesting the calories in those forms.  I also took 1-2 electrolyte pills (Hammer Enduralytes) roughly each hour, and had no electrolyte imbalance problems.  I also probably took in about 24ozs of liquid each hour between the HEED and plain water. My hat is off to Hammer Nutrition and GU Energy – this stuff really seemed to work well for me.  I supplemented with some solid food here and there (potatoes, egg whites, peanut butter sandwiches, turkey/cheese sandwiches, pretzels, watermelon, and bananas), but possibly could have gone without a lot of that until late in the race and still been fine.  My strategy was validated later that night when I weighed myself post-race and had lost less than two pounds.  I will use this strategy again in the future with some fine-tuning. 

 

The next segment, from Shadow Lake to Egbert Shelter, was also very familiar territory.  The low-lying areas in the Bedford Reservation were very dry, making the trail pretty fast.  I was lucky to be familiar with this section, as the course was either very poorly marked or had been vandalized the night before.  It’s not too confusing, but there are a  couple places where you can get off course for a bit if you are not careful.  I planned to walk the steady climb to the top of the bridge over the railroad on Egbert Road, but walking felt too slow and so I alternated running and walking for about 20 strides at a time until I reached the top.  From there it was a quick run back into the woods and to Egbert Shelter aid station (23.4 miles).  I probably didn’t spend more than 60 seconds at Egbert, only waiting for the volunteers to refill my bottles before moving on.  I ran alone pretty much all the way to Alexander Rd (28.4 miles), as the field was starting to get strung out at this point.  I reloaded fluids at Alexander Rd, ate a bit, and headed toward Station Rd Bridge.  I was looking forward to this section because the first half is all downhill, the 2^nd half is flat (although in the sun on the Towpath Trail), and I would get to see my crew again at Station Rd.  I was surprised how fast I reached Frazee House (in about 5:35 for nearly 50K total distance to that point).  The Towpath was pretty hot by this time of day (nearing 11AM), and I took it pretty slow, but managed to reach Station Rd Bridge (33.3 miles) at the very fast end of my projected pace, about 6:05 into the race. 

 

Station Rd was very busy with lots of people around.  Greg Murray, a guy I had met in my first Buckeye Trail 50K, was taking photos of the runners coming in.  It was great to see him, and I would see him again later at Boston Store.  I met my crew and there were more family and friends present.  I changed shirts and hats and stuffed down some food while my bottles were being refilled.  I noticed it was getting a bit warmer but nothing too hot yet.  But I put some ice in my hat before getting started again. I once again left on a high, thinking about how much the crew and family support was helping. I also noticed I was starting to feel a bit of muscle fatigue, particularly in my quads after all the downhill from Harper Ridge.   It was 6.3 miles to Ottawa point, one of the longer segments of the course, and with some significant climbs and descents along the way.  This section went by a little faster than I expected, given how I was feeling and the challenging terrain, and I arrived at Ottawa Point (39.6 miles) pretty much dead in the middle of my projected time range, at about 7 and a half hours.  I think it was in this segment that I felt some hot spots on a couple toes on my right foot, and figured they would develop into blisters before too long.    

 

Ottawa Point was a mess, with way too many cars for the small parking area.  The last ½ mile on the way in follows the driveway to the parking area, and while there were volunteers directing traffic, I had to dodge cars that were maneuvering to get in or out.  I remember thinking they should not allow crew and spectator access here, since there’s not enough room for the cars and it’s dangerous for the runners.  I had a good crowd waiting for me at the aid station, everyone who had been at Station Rd plus some other friends.  I think I took longer at this aid station than all the ones before (maybe about 5 minutes).  I had planned to change socks and maybe lube my feet in an effort to avoid the pending blisters, but I forgot about it.  We reloaded all the liquids and gels, I ate what I could, and I rested a bit before heading into the woods for Snowville Rd.  It was 9.5 miles to Boston Store, the next crew access point, and I knew that would take me the better part of two hours – the last 5 miles of it being the most challenging on the course in terms of total climb and descent.

 

Leaving Ottawa Point on the Buckeye Trail, I made pretty steady progress, although the pace was slower than the last few segments. I was definitely feeling the downhills in my quads and I could feel the pending blisters again.  But I ran pretty well on the flats and I remember being pleasantly surprised at how well I could still climb, either running the not-too-steep hills or fast-walking the steep ones.  There are some low-lying areas in this stretch of trail that tend to be muddy, but today there wasn’t much mud at all.  I caught up to a group of 4 runners just as we were entering one section that did have some mud.  I saw the last guy in the group slip and start to go down in the mud, and at the same time I felt a sharp pain on the inside of my ankle – I got stung by something, not sure if it was bees or wasps or what, but it hurt like hell.  The guy who fell said he was stung also.  I kept going and passed this group, and the pain subsided after another 20 minutes or so.  Inside a mile from Snowville, I could hear cowbells and lots of yelling from the aid station – while the group of volunteers there wasn’t huge, they really knew how to make some noise and welcome incoming runners.  This caused me to pick up the pace a bit and I ran the last flat section into the aid station pretty hard (43.8 miles).

 

At Snowville Rd, 2009 BR100 Grandmasters winner Rich Henderson was just leaving the aid station.  I asked Rich how he was doing and he said he was struggling a bit, having some cramping issues for the last 6 or so miles.  Rich headed out across the road to the trailhead and I took on more liquids and ate what I could.  I think it was slightly past 1:30PM at this point, and a stack of pizzas had just been delivered to the aid station.  I remember looking at the pizza and thinking how completely unappetizing it was.  I just can’t imagine how people can eat that during a race.  I dumped a cup of ice into my hat and walked across the road, finishing some food while I climbed the large wooden steps up toward the power lines.  Maybe a couple miles up the trail I caught up to Rich and walked with him for a little while before moving ahead. I was sad to not be able to run with him longer. I got to know him during the last couple months of training.  He was very kind to invite me along on some of his training runs, and was always ready to offer advice to help me in my first attempt at 100 miles.  I felt bad for Rich, since I knew he was incredibly prepared for this race, having run (and placed extremely well) in numerous 50K events from January until now.  I really hoped he’d get a lift upon reaching Boston Store and start to feel better again.

 

I think it was in the last few miles going to Boston Store that I had the first indications that my leg injury, whatever it was, might resurface.  There are a couple of fairly steep and long downhills in that segment, and the leg was starting to feel sensitive on the harder footfalls during these downs.  There was definitely something there, but I wasn’t going to panic about it.  I just tried to take it a little easier the rest of the way to Boston Store, being more careful to walk the ups and going slower on the downs.  This wasn’t too hard as I was definitely starting to feel the effects of almost 50 miles.  I climbed the famous “piano keys”, 88 steep wooden steps, and then coasted down to Boston Mills Rd.  I think that last ½ mile is maybe my favorite piece of trail to run – it’s almost all downhill, and it feels like you are flying around those sweeping curves. 

 

I could hear the noise from Boston Store well before I came out of the woods onto the road, and that got me pretty excited.  This being one of the double aid stations (runners pass through it twice) and arriving in the mid-afternoon, I knew there would be a huge crowd here.  I wasn’t disappointed.  I crossed Riverview Rd and the train tracks, picking up the pace as the crowd noise grew.  I think there must have been a couple hundred people lining the road, cheering every runner coming in.  Since I came in by myself, this was a really incredible feeling, all these people cheering me!  I had a huge complement of supporters waiting, more friends, siblings, nieces and nephews, etc.  I would hear from everyone later that they really enjoyed coming out to see a race like this – something that most people have no concept of.  I was appreciative to see Beth Darmstadter, development director for The Gather Place (also a runner, and a Boston Marathon finisher), there with some other TGP staff.  Beth helped with some of the crewing and told me I was looking good.  I think I remember telling her she must be lying, but she insisted and I guess I believed her.  It was just amazing to have so many people there for me.  I had planned a shoe change at Boston Store (49.1 miles) but I realized those hot spots had gone away and my feet were feeling good, so I stuck with what I had.  I changed shirts again, ate some eggs and peanut butter sandwiches, thanked everyone for being there, and walked up the Towpath Trail while finishing the food.  Next was the Brandywine Falls loop and the return to Boston Store.

 

The Towpath was pretty hot since it’s directly in the sun and it was now peak of the afternoon (2:45 or so).  I got into a slow jog and felt some discomfort in my leg every now and then.  Because of that, and loads of people on bicycles riding past me (and a couple kids that nearly ran into me), I didn’t enjoy this stretch at all.  It was great to get off the Towpath and onto the Valley Bridle Trail, which at that point is a nice, gentle, grassy path with some shade.  I walked the climb up to the corner of Stanford Rd and then jogged the road until the uphill was noticeable.  This part of the road is generally very hot with only minimal shade.  I was lucky the temps were not too high (I don’t know exactly what it was, but probably not more than 81 or 82), but some of the tar on the road was melting in the sun.  I was able to hike the big climb on the trail up to the falls pretty well, rounded the access road to the falls viewing area, got back into the woods, and started the descent back toward Boston Store.  On the downs my leg was now definitely feeling uncomfortable and even a little painful at times.  I again tried to be slow and gentle on the downs, which was pretty easy since I was definitely feeling the mileage.  But even gently didn’t make it go away.  I think it was in this segment that I started to have some doubts about the rest of the race. 

 

It seemed to take forever to make it back to Boston Store (mile 54.5), although looking at the splits later, that segment wasn’t really too bad for that point in the race.  But I was definitely tending toward the slower end of my time projections now.  Got another good reception from the crowd and my crew, and rested a bit longer this time.  I remember not being able to eat much at this point, but I think I was doing OK on taking in HEED and gels, so it wasn’t a big deal.  I told everyone it was likely going to be slow progress to Happy Days about 10 miles onward, which was the next crew access point.  I walked out on the Towpath to the South, then took the left turn on the Buckeye Trail toward the long climb up into the woods.  It was hot on this stretch of trail and I was definitely starting to worry about my leg.  I was really beginning to feel down at this point.  I found myself periodically doing the math in my head to calculate whether I could still finish within the 30 hour limit if I had to walk the rest of the way.  I determined that was very possible and I committed to doing it, if it came to that.

 

It’s only 4.2 miles to Pine Lane, and I have really enjoyed this stretch of trail every time I’ve run it – except for one time when I took a hard fall in the “roots” section, and today when I was feeling lousy.  I actually walked all ½ mile of the roots because I just couldn’t protect my leg with the constant uneven and variable-length strides required in that section.  Once past that I was able to run again, until reaching the massive and very steep downhill about a mile out from Pine Lane trailhead.  That was a tough downhill, because both my leg and my quads were hurting.  Nobody was anywhere near me on the course at that point, but I’m sure I could have been passed multiple times for as long as it took me to get down that thing.  Once down, I did OK on the final climb into the Pine Lane aid station (58.6 miles).

 

At Pine Lane I was really feeling bad, both mentally and physically.  My leg was starting to hurt constantly now while running, and even a bit when walking.  Nothing severe yet, but I knew this was not going in the right direction.  It was another 5.5 miles to Happy Days where I could see my crew again.  I think it was about 5PM, and I again did a little math to make sure I could reach Happy Days before dark if things went really bad and I could only make a couple miles an hour.  I was pretty confident I could get there by 7:30 even if I had to walk a lot, so I reloaded liquids, ate a turkey/cheese sandwich and headed back into the woods. 

 

Pretty quickly into this stretch of trail, you have a very big and steep downhill, which was demoralizing because my leg pain instantly got worse.  At this point, bearing pretty much any weight on it was painful. I knew that lots of people reach points of mental breakdown in a race like this, and I guess this is where I hit mine.  By the time I reached the bottom of that hill, I was actually crying.  It was not because of the pain, but because I knew there was a good chance I couldn’t go another 40 miles.  Following that huge downhill is an equally huge uphill stretch. I was still feeling better on the ups than on the downs, but this one was really tough and when I reached the top, coming out on the abandoned end of Akron-Cleveland Rd, I was feeling completely drained.  I tried to regroup a bit while I walked, again doing the math to figure out what it would take to walk it in to the finish from there.  While it was still very possible time-wise, the bigger concern was now whether my leg would let me do it.  After walking for awhile more and taking in some calories, I tried to do alternate walking and jogging, 10 paces of each.  While still painful, this worked OK and I was able to do it half way to the end of the road before I had to resort to only walking again. 

 

The last few miles to Happy Days, on the paved bike trail and then the bridle trail were the absolute worst.  My leg involuntarily collapsed twice during that stretch when I attempted to run, causing me to stumble. After that I couldn’t manage more than a slow walk. I must have gotten passed about 10 times during this stretch, and while I tried to give each runner some positive encouragement, that was really tough to do.  Less than a mile out from Happy Days, a guy came up on me from behind and asked if I was OK – clearly he could tell I wasn’t even walking too well.  I think that’s the point I knew I wasn’t going to be able to continue. Pretty much every step was hurting, but not in the way it’s supposed to at 60+ miles.  I walked the rest of the way into Happy Days (64.1 miles) and broke down when I reached Tami, telling her my leg just wasn’t working. 

 

I sat down, for the first time since changing shoes at 18.6, and we applied some ice.  We knew I had plenty of time to sit (it was only about 7PM) since there wasn’t any risk yet of missing the cutoff time for the next aid station.  The idea was that if I rested awhile, maybe the leg would stabilize and I could at least keep walking.  Everyone was being incredibly supportive, but I was miserable.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt so completely devastated.  I had done all the work and was as prepared as I could be – prepared way beyond what I needed just to finish this race.  I know that nobody else felt this way, but I had this huge sense of letting everyone down.  My family, who had supported me all the way and helped me make the time for training. My friends, running and otherwise, who had encouraged me and provided great advice.  And everyone involved with 100 Miles For Life, because I had attached the campaign to this race.  All of that, and I just really, really wanted to do this. 

 

After about 20 minutes, I got up and tried to walk, but nothing had changed.  I talked it over with my family for awhile.  Nobody could make the decision to drop out for me, but they all expressed concern about permanent injury if I continued.  The next segment included the Ledges Trail which is pretty technical with lots of rocks, and is the longest segment in the race at 6.8 miles.  Not particularly helpful at this point in time.  I also kept thinking about Wyatt and Tim, who told me there would no doubt be points in the race when I wanted to quit, but that I just had to resist.  I wish this had been one of those points – where I just wanted to quit because I was tired or sore. But I decided it wasn’t. I put it off for another 15 minutes or so, and then told Tami to inform the aid station captain that I was dropping. Official ending distance and time of my race was 64.1 miles in 13:56:30.  In hindsight, I’m sure it was the right decision.  I’m also sure it was one of the most heartbreaking I’ve ever had to make.

 

The only positive at that point was that we were able to get down to the finish line in Cuyahoga Falls so that we could see Tim finish.  Once again he turned in an outstanding  performance, finishing 8^th overall in 17:56:37, and winning the 45-49 age group in the USATF championship.  Tim has now finished in the top 10 in each of the four BR100’s.  His talent and dedication are amazing.   Also amazing were the overall champions, with the men’s winner finishing in 15:29 and the women’s winner in 16:44.  Both times were new course records, likely due to the excellent weather and trail conditions and the top talent that entered the race because it was the USATF national championship.

 

We left the finish about 11:30, and got back home around midnight. I was really stiff and sore at this point, and still too wired to sleep.  We stayed up for a little while talking with the kids, Brian, and Alesia, and then tried to get some sleep around 12:30.  I was pretty uncomfortable and still very despondent over how the day had turned out.  I might have slept on and off for 3 or 4 hours at best.  The next morning we drove back down to Cuyahoga Falls to pick up the rest of my drop bags (which I never got to use), and attended the awards ceremony.  All through the prior evening and that morning, the calls, emails, texts and Facebook messages began to pile up from friends and family who heard the news, all offering support and congratulations despite the early and short finish to my race.  I’m just now starting to work through that backlog and thank everyone for their support. 

 

Yesterday I went to the doctor and had some x-rays taken. Waiting to hear the results today.  I hope that the diagnosis on my leg will be something straightforward, and I can get back to running soon after some rest.  While that part is uncertain, one thing I am sure about is that I would like to do this again.  It wasn’t easy, but I had a great time up until the last few hours of the race.  I really want to see how well I can do in an event like this, and have the chance to cross that finish line.  I know I can do it – I can see it in my mind.

This is likely the last blog entry I’ll post before the big race.  We’re 3 days away, and so many things still to do to get ready.  Thank goodness I have the support of my family – they have been a great help in dealing with all the chaos of final preparations over the last couple weeks.  The last few days in particular have been really crazy, as I know the rest of the week will be.  But these have also been really satisfying days too – in just the last few days, I’ve received a number of e-mails and phone calls from friends who have said some very uplifting things.  Very nice words of encouragement for the race, admiration for the fundraising effort, and so forth.  Probably most touching have been the messages from people saying that whether or not I’m able to finish the race, they are proud of and inspired by all the effort I put into training and into 100 Miles For Life. 

 

These messages and all the support from friends, family, and co-workers are extremely humbling and rewarding to me.  I’m also very humbled and thankful for all the generous donations made to the campaign – as of today, we have nearly $8,000 total, and I suspect we’ll pick up more this week and beyond.  While we’d love it to be even more, I know that even this amount will make a difference to The Gathering Place.  And therefore I’m declaring the campaign a success.  A huge “thank you” to all of you who have contributed.  Your support means more than you know.  It’s you, the staff, and the recipients of services from The Gathering Place who are going to be my inspiration when things get tough in the later stages of the race.  A big “thank you” for that too.

As we roll into the last 2 weeks prior to the big race, I’m trying to reflect on the last several months and the journey to get here.  The training for Burning River has taken a tremendous about of time and effort (both physical and mental).  Since January 1 of this year, I’ve run about 1600 miles – that is just about the driving distance from Cleveland to Albuquerque, New Mexico.  I have no idea how many hours of running that translates into, but a rough estimate given my average running paces on different surfaces would probably be about 240 hours.  That works out to an average of over an hour every single day so far this year.  And over the course of the last 6 months, it’s been closer to an average of between 2 and 2.5 hours per day.  Pretty crazy, and I never thought I would be able or interested to train at that level. 

 

I started off this whole thing by saying that a main reason behind 100 Miles For Life was that I didn’t want all that time to only benefit me – I wanted it to have some larger purpose.  I’m pleased to say that it’s starting to feel like that’s happening. We’ve generated about $7,000 so far for The Gathering Place, and hoping the number will go over $10,000 soon.   Maybe not as big as I had hoped it could be, but not an insignificant amount from the point of view of The Gathering Place staff and participants.  I’m excited to see how much more it can grow in the remaining two weeks and the period following the race.

 

I don’t think during these many months of training that I ever felt like I wanted to quit or that I wanted to slow down and reduce the mileage.  On the contrary, I’ve been able to reach training volumes much higher than I had anticipated.  It hasn’t been easy – too little sleep, constantly being tired and stiff, and unpleasant weather presented reasons to back off.  But the ultimate goal and the excitement of seeing what would happen if I kept going helped to keep me motivated.  I learned that pushing ahead, even when it’s uncomfortable and very easy to stop, generally opens the door to great results and personal improvement.  And lots of it has been fun -- the fun of achievement, of being outside in our beautiful parks, and of sharing with others the story and motivation behind this campaign.

 

I believe that lesson applies to everything in life.  It’s interesting to observe how people behave when trying achieve significant goals – things that require either a lot of effort, or a long amount of time, or are otherwise very challenging.  Most will take the easy way out – quitting or cutting back on their goals – when things get a bit tough.  But unless we try to battle through the challenging times, we’ll never improve ourselves or achieve anything really important.  We can endure a pretty significant amount of discomfort, both mental and physical, and we shouldn’t give up at the first sign of trouble. I hope that is also a lesson my kids come to learn someday.  I want them to know that dedication to a goal, being willing to work hard to get it, and battling through adverse conditions is one of the most critical “life skills” and something that will pay back big-time once they learn they can do it.

 

Now, I need to keep those concepts firmly in mind leading up to and during the race.  Surely there will be a lot of pain and adverse conditions.  Those individuals benefiting from the services of The Gathering Place are of course enduring much more severe of a physical and mental challenge than I will be.  I think remembering that fact will be a very valuable tool on race day. 

A couple weekends ago I ran in Race For The Place 5K, the annual benefit for The Gathering Place.  Despite not so great weather, there was a really good turnout and I believe TGP achieved their target of donations associated with the event.  TGP gave us a bit of space to market 100 Miles For Life during the event.  Tami and I (mostly Tami) manned a table in the sponsor area, where we distributed some wristbands, water bottles, and postcards with the 100 Miles For Life web address, logo, and information.  It was fun chatting with the many people that stopped by the table.  Many expressed interest in what we were doing and either made a small donation on the spot or promised to visit the web site.

 

Most memorable were the conversations with several cancer survivors.  I met a guy who said he used to run a lot, even doing some ultra marathons, and knew all about races like Mohican and Western States. He said that even though he can’t run like he used to, as a result of the disease, he still gets out when he can.  Talk about inspirational!  Several of the cancer survivors we spoke with made a point of personally thanking us for our fundraising efforts.  It was very clear how much they value the services of TGP, but also how much they believe in the need to support others battling cancer.  It was really apparent to me that the TGP staff, volunteers, and program participants truly represent a “caring community”, as the TGP tag line says.  These people exhibit perseverance, compassion, and an incredibly positive spirit and outlook on life despite their circumstances.  We should all aspire to live our lives with such an attitude.

 

Since Race For The Place is now over, we have begun to more heavily market 100 Miles For Life.  We have some press events (newspaper and TV) coming up in the next few weeks, and have been trying to distribute postcards around town.  But word of mouth seems to be our best communication vehicle – just by talking to people about the event, we’ve been able to generate a pretty good stream of donations – now just short of $5,000 in total.  I continue to be deeply impressed and appreciative of the generosity of our family, friends, and acquaintances.  And I’m hopeful this trend continues through the remaining 6 weeks leading up to my race on July 31.

 

On the training front, we are coming into the home stretch.  3 more weeks of heavy training before beginning of taper for the race.  I have reached 100+ miles per week, which has been incredibly taxing, both physically and mentally.  It is sometimes hard to get the workouts in when I’m feeling tired all the time.  But it’s also pretty exciting that I’ve been able to train at this level – way above what I ever expected to do.  I’m told by my much more experienced training partners that only a minority of competitors in the race will have put in the same amount of work.  I hope that is true and that it translates into both a successful and not-too-uncomfortable finish, as well as a semi-competitive performance.  But at this point, I’m trying not to think so much about the race, and just get through these next 3 weeks with lots of quality miles and no injuries.  I know that my recent interactions with the TGP community will give me plenty of motivation and inspiration to get the job done.

Today marks the 10-year anniversary of losing my dad.  I can’t believe 10 years have gone by so fast.  It really is amazing how rapidly time flies.  It really does feel like just yesterday that my dad was here and we were all together as a family, celebrating birthdays, holidays, and other special occasions.  So many memories.    It was an emotional day.

 

As we always do on this day, we went to the cemetery along with my mom, my siblings (except for my brother, who was in China for work), and all our kids (minus my niece, who's in grad school at Indiana).  We spent some time there, talking about my dad and the things we remember most and the valuable lessons he taught us all.  Most importantly, the way that he really did live his life to the fullest – enjoying each day, having so many diverse interests, always trying to learn new things, and caring very deeply about his family. 

 

And it’s very clear that my dad left his greatest legacy in the form of his family – looking around at all his grandkids, a few of which he never had the chance to know, I felt very proud that they are all good, smart, and happy kids, each with their unique qualities and diverse interests, just like my dad.  My youngest, Cameron, was born about 6 months after my dad died.  I continue to be amazed at how he talks about my dad as if he got to know him very deeply – I’m so happy that he seems to have learned the importance of my dad’s ideals, just through hearing us talk about them over the years.  I think my dad would be extremely proud of where we all are as a family today.

 

Following the cemetery visit, we came back to our house and had lunch together – a classic Memorial Day cookout, which my dad would also have appreciated.  I still don’t think I’m as competent with the grill as he was, but it was good.  And more important, we had a lots of the extended family all together enjoying it – which I know he would have appreciated even more.

 

As I explained on the Why I’m Running page of the web site, 100 Miles For Life is my way of acting on my dad’s belief that everyone should make a positive difference in the world.  I like to think that he’d have appreciated what I’m doing and would probably have been very interested in some of the science and logistics behind ultra-marathons – the specifics of the training, the physiology, etc.  But most importantly, I know he’d understand and believe in the need to help The Gathering Place. 

 

I am so appreciative of the generous contributions that have been made to the campaign so far – thanks to those who have pledged their support!  And for those who have not yet done so, please consider making a donation now, in honor of this special day. 

 

I’ve noticed something really interesting as I talk to people about 100 Miles For Life.  Most of the time, the conversation starts with a focus on the race I’ve entered.  Because most people never imagined there are 100 mile races, they want to talk about how it works, where it happens, what the training is like, etc.  Somewhere during the discussion I generally mention that I’m doing the race as a fundraiser, and the conversation turns to The Gathering Place and why I chose to put my effort toward supporting it.  I explain what it means to me, how the race lands around the 10-year anniversary of both my dad’s death and the founding of TGP, and the activities that make up 100 Miles For Life.  But in talking through these things with both friends and casual acquaintances it occurred to me that this campaign has meaning on lots of different levels – some that I didn’t have in mind when I got started.

 

First, there is the main purpose of 100 Miles For Life – to generate operating funds for The Gathering Place.  This organization is so worthwhile and deserving, that if we’re able to help in some small way to sustain TGP’s services, this whole effort will have been well worth it.  This is also about my dad.  I can’t believe it’s been 10 years that he’s been gone, and I’m glad to be able to do something to commemorate that fact and honor his life and beliefs at the same time.  As I’ve written on the web site, he felt very strongly that everyone needs to make a positive difference in their community.  This is my way of trying to do that, and I like to think that he’d be impressed by and excited about it.

 

Those first two reasons are what drove me to start 100 Miles For Life.  But in the last couple months since the campaign began I’ve discovered there’s so much more. For example, this effort is forcing me to achieve a better work life / personal life balance.  I knew that I was letting work consume too much of my time – and even though I like it an awful lot, that’s not healthy.  While I’m not sure I did it consciously for this reason, tackling something as challenging as training for a 100 mile race means that I’m forced to re-balance my time.  In effect, this challenge is causing me to work less.  And I think that’s a really good thing.  I’m a bit at risk here, as it’s quite possible many of my work colleagues, including my bosses, will read this.  But I hope they would agree that I don’t always have to over-achieve on everything at work.  Maybe this is a year when I can just be really good at it, but not above and beyond great.  And apply a lot of the extra time I used to spend on work toward my running and the campaign.

 

I also like to think there’s a lot here that’s positive for my kids.  While they aren’t out there training with me, I’m hoping that the level of commitment and dedication that’s required to do this will somehow rub off on them.  I would like them to learn several important lessons through what I’m doing:

• They can do anything (even something as seemingly impossible as running 100 miles) as long as they dedicate themselves and put in the necessary effort
• To get to your goal, you need to do things that are hard, maybe even painful, and that you don’t necessarily like (running in sub-zero wind chill or heavy rain comes to mind)
• It’s important to help others and give something back to the community – and you can do that easily by taking something you like to do and somehow linking it to a good cause

I’m hoping they’ll figure these things out through watching what I’m doing.  Even if they don’t see all of that today, hopefully somewhere in the future it will make sense.

 

Another cool thing is that it’s created an opportunity for my wife, Tami, and I to work on a project together.  Not that that is unusual, as we I think we collaborate pretty well on everything from managing the family calendar and logistics for the kids, to home remodeling efforts.  But this is different.  She’s really good at connecting with people (far better than I am), so I really like that she is able to spend time doing the “marketing” for 100 Miles For Life.  She has a number of PR events, including newpaper articles and a TV interview lined up.  It’s been fun working on it together and I wish we had more opportunities to do projects like this. 

 

Finally, I would be dishonest if I didn’t admit there was something in this for me personally.  I wrote about goals in a prior blog entry, and completing this race is a pretty big one.  I want to see if I’m up to this challenge, and what I’m capable of doing with my running.  So far, I feel like I have a lot of room for more growth and improvement. I’m getting stronger and in better shape all the time.  And I wonder how far I can take it. So this effort is also about me doing something for my own personal interest and growth.  Everyone needs to find something challenging that they do for a similar purpose. 

 

I can imagine all of this makes what I’m doing sound very deep, and even spiritual.  It certainly didn’t start with all these ideals, and maybe some of these things are wishful thinking or naïve optimism.  But it feels good to think about the possibilities in all these areas.  And I hope that it might inspire others to find multiple meanings in their own endeavors. 

Despite the long time between blog entries (and I’ll make up for it with this very long entry), things remain pretty active with 100 Miles For Life.  We are working on a series of PR activities that will hopefully generate more interest and awareness in the community – and lead to even more funds for The Gathering Place.  Since TGP’s “Race For The Place” is coming up in about 5 weeks, we don’t want to detract from that event’s ability to attract participants and donations.  Starting in mid-June we will ramp up the PR once again, leading up to Burning River at the end of July.  But we continue to regularly take in more donations – the total is now around $2500. Stay tuned.

 

Several weeks ago I mentioned doing some research into how prevalent cancer actually is in our community.  With the help of The Gathering Place librarian Eileen Coan, I was able to find some great sources for hard data on the topic – the American Cancer Society and the National Cancer Institute.  Of course I knew these organizations existed, but I didn’t know how much information they offered (and in an easily understood form) that shows what’s going on in the US with cancer rates. Some really interesting and eye-opening data and trends there, and while I’m just scratching the surface I’ve learned a lot. Here are a few interesting statistics:

 

• In Ohio during 2009, an estimated 62,420 new cases of cancer were diagnosed
• 10,690 of these were lung cancer, the most common cancer diagnosis in Ohio last year. Very sad, because I suspect a lot of that is due to smoking, and therefore could have been prevented
• 7,340 new cases of female breast cancer. A very high rate and very deserving of all the attention this form of cancer receives.
• 6,510 new cases of prostate cancer – something you hear a lot more about these days, and I have family, friends and colleagues battling this form of cancer right now.
• 6,060 occurrences of colon cancer – this is also a big number and close to home for me, as it’s the form of cancer that struck my dad.
• One other item that caught my eye was 2000+ cases of skin cancer – we need to pay attention to those warnings about too much sun / using sunscreen – all also largely preventable, and as a runner I need to pay more attention to this since I’m out in the sun for long periods of time during the summer.

 

Overall, it appears Ohio has much higher (in relative terms) cancer incidence rates than the US average.  While I’m not a doctor, cancer biologist, or statistician, I have to believe that this is due in part to our generally unhealthy lifestyles – poor eating and lack of exercise (we could get into a discussion of obesity rates in Ohio, but that could be doubly depressing). 

 

Across the US in 2009, there were approximately 1.5 million new cases of cancer diagnosed.  That is a staggering number.  Granted, out of a population of about 305 million, we’re talking in the neighborhood of 0.5% of the population.  But that is just what was diagnosed in 2009 -- add in all the cases diagnosed prior (and after), and you have multiple millions of individuals, many of them in a fight for their lives (literally).  And that is why organizations like The Gathering Place need our help.

 

But the news is not all bad.  It also appears that both incidence and mortality rates are falling.  Due to broader awareness of risk factors, early detection techniques, and improved treatments, there is some good progress being made.  Here’s a chart which shows some of this -- from a study showing how mortality rates (across all cancer types) peaked around 1990 and are on the decline:

 

 

This also shows that Ohio has a higher mortality rate than the US on average (no doubt correlated with the higher incidence rates mentioned above).

 

It’s also interesting to see how the incidence rate of certain forms of cancer is changing over time – what’s becoming more common and what’s getting more rare.  The following chart from the same study about Ohio cancer rates shows this:

 

 

Lots of good news here – the incidence rates of the “heavy hitters” (lung, breast, prostate, and colon) have all been falling.  It would be great to see lung cancer incidence rates falling even faster, but I guess the awareness and constant communication about it in the media and the laws to ban smoking in public places are not enough.  On the negative side of the ledger, there are a number of cancer types where incidence rates are increasing, some of them dramatically. While there are lots of hereditary genetic factors at play for all forms of cancer, it’s interesting to note that some of these have significant known risk factors that are controllable – for example, liver and pancreatic cancers are linked to poor diet, diabetes (which is often caused by poor diet), and obesity.  I certainly don’t believe that you can completely remove all risk of cancer by eating right and being in shape.  But there’s a lot of evidence indicating you can significantly increase your odds of staying cancer-free by doing so.

 

Lots of great information out there about all of these things.  I’m excited to continue reading more that’s been written, including more study results, in the hopes of gaining a deeper understanding of this very complex and very important subject.  Good thing I like data and charts!

 

By way of a training update, things are going along pretty well.  I had several weeks in the 70-80 mile range, and am now in the 2^nd week of taper for the Cleveland marathon on Sunday May 16^th.  Recent workout results show I should be able to run somewhere in the vicinity of 3:20 if the weather conditions are decent.  I’m looking forward to having a good race there, but I have to admit that my mind is always on the 100.  On one level, I look at the marathon next weekend as just another in a series of weekly long training runs.  Once it’s over, I will take a few days off and then start to ramp up again.  I hope to be running weekly mileage in the 80’s at end of May, and then possibly into the 90’s by late June.  Onward and upward!

When I tell people about my upcoming race at Burning River, most ask me how long it will take to finish.  I’m not sure I’ve got a really good idea yet of what’s possible or likely, as this is somewhat new for me.  Maybe when I’m into the heaviest of the training, I’ll have a better feel for it.  But at the moment, I’m telling people that I have 3 goals – a minimum one, a challenging but possible one, and an aggressive one.  They look like this:

·         Basic goal – stay in the race and finish by the 30-hour time limit

·         Intermediate goal – finish inside of 24 hours

·         Stretch goal – finish inside of 21 hours

I’m sure I will refine these over the coming months, but  the basic goal will remain the same – finish the race.  It’s the most important goal, and something to which I have to be totally committed.  If the training goes well, the weather cooperates, I’m feeling good, and I have a good run, perhaps the intermediate goal or even the stretch goal will be possible.  But surviving, staying in the race, and finishing is job #1.

 

I think the important thing is to have a “must do” goal.  Certainly things can go wrong and even the basic goal could become impossible.  But without a purpose that you are passionate about and dedicated to achieving, you spend time and energy on activities that don’t necessarily move you toward where you want to be.  That’s very true in running, where without a defined goal, there’s no way to plan your training.  And the results will be hit or miss.  I imagine it’s also very true for life in general – but only to a point.  I think it would be bad to try to plan life in the long term – it’s not possible, and would cause you to miss all the great things that happen just by chance.  I remember all the job interviews I went through where the interviewer asked me the classic “where do you see yourself in 5 years?” or “what kind of work do you want to be doing when you’re 50?”.  I had no clue – just couldn’t see that far out.  My lack of long-term career planning has brought me some really fantastic opportunities that I never anticipated -- it's worked great for me. 

 

So I say, forget the long-term planning stuff - -except maybe when it comes to financial planning (retirement, kids' education, etc).  I’d like to see more people set near- to mid-term goals – very focused things that they can effectively plan out and take tangible, achievable steps toward.  Quitting smoking, losing weight, achieving a better work/life balance (something I need to personally get better at!), and being a better friend, parent, spouse, or co-worker are all good examples.  You can start to make progress toward any of these today.  Pick something important to you, write down the goal and the steps needed to get there, then get to work.

 

By way of a quick training update, I’m in the middle of my second week at 70+ miles.  Last week was very good, both in terms of total mileage and the quality of my long run (which reached 23+ miles).  The one challenge I’m having, besides managing my time to get all the workouts in, is that I’m feeling a bit sore and fatigued at the start of each session.  I’m sure that comes with the territory, but it makes it hard to always have a high-quality workout, and to show improvement each time.  This is most evident in my interval workouts and tempo runs, where I’m not seeing the increases in speed that I would like.  I’m wondering if the very high mileage weeks in preparation for the 100-mile event are at odds with the quality speed work needed to run a strong marathon in May.  I’m hoping I’ll adapt and the speed improvements will return.  With the way my workouts are progressing, I’m probably able to come close to 3:20 for the marathon, but I’d like to be a few minutes faster than that.  I’ll know better what’s likely when we reach the end of April.

 

As I continue to talk to people about 100 Miles For Life, in addition to getting a lot of positive feedback and pledges for support, many people have said things like “that’s insane – it’s not possible to run 100 miles”.  Generally, I get those comments from non-runners.  But also you hear it from people in the “mainstream” running community – those who are familiar with race distances of 5K, 10K, ½ marathon and the marathon.  I remember the first time I learned about races longer than the marathon.  I couldn’t conceive of anyone running 50K or 50 miles, let alone 100 miles. 100 miles!  It seemed as if you needed some type of super-human powers to accomplish something like that.  I appreciate the reactions of amazement and admiration some people offer when I’m talking to them about what I’m doing.  But in reality, this is nothing unique.  In 2009, there were over 36,000 finishes at races of greater than marathon distance in the US*.  How did I become part of that group?  After meeting some people that were into ultra running, watching one of their races, and crewing for somebody competing at the 100-mile distance, I was inspired to see what I was capable of achieving.  So a 50K race opened the door for attempting 50 miles, and a successful 50-mile finish helped me see how 100 miles could be possible.  And here I am.

 

While I’m using a 100-mile race as a vehicle to gain visibility for a good cause, I want to give respect to the sport and to all those runners who compete in events like this simply because they love ultra running, enjoy both the competitive and social aspect of it, and desire to support and maintain our great parks.  It’s important to me that everyone realizes the serious and competitive nature of the sport, and the level of competition at the Burning River 100-Mile Endurance Run.  As the US national championship at 100 miles on trails, this is a big deal.  It is attracting elite runners from across the country, with positions on the US team at the World Championships at stake.  Some of my training partners have competed in and won events of this type (including this specific race) – for example, Tim Clement (former 100K US national team member and 2008 Burning River champion) and Wyatt Hornsby (Burning River top-10 finisher and 2009 Mohican Trail 100-Mile champion).  I really admire what they have done and am merely following in their footsteps.  I hope I can exhibit some of the same courage and determination that they and their fellow 100-mile finishers/champions show many times each year.  They are this sport – I’m just trying to learn from them and be as good a steward of its principles as they are.

 

A small update on my training here (you can read all the detail on the training log page of the web site).  Things are progressing well, with my weekly mileage now approaching 70, and long runs in the 23-25 mile range.  Most all the workouts have been good quality, although with more time on the treadmill than I would like.  Hopefully we are out of the woods with winter weather, and I can get in more road and trail time.  I’ve found that it’s easier to get the miles in by running 2X/day a couple times a week.  If I do that, I’m able to generally take one day off (Friday seems to work best, and a rest day before Sat morning long runs is nice).  Until mid-May, the training will remain geared toward optimizing my marathon performance at Cleveland on May 16.  Starting in the last week of May, I will decrease the speed work and shift the miles over to hilly trails, making trail runs about 2/3 of the weekly mileage.  I’m hoping to have a series of 80-90 mile weeks through June and the first week of July to cap off the heavy training. 

 

*Source: UltraRunning Magazine, March 2010

We’re about a month into the fundraising effort now, and I’m amazed by and appreciative of the generosity and support coming from family, friends, and co-workers.  We’ve raised $1,420 so far, well on our way toward a substantial contribution to The Gathering Place operating budget.  Just because I was curious, yesterday I asked the operations director of TGP how much money they receive annually from what they call community-based fundraising – basically, people who run campaigns on their own, like I’m doing with 100 Miles For Life.  He told me that of the $1.8 million required to operate TGP last year, about $80,000 came from this channel.  And that the largest private campaign generated about $23,000.   I’d like to think that we could raise the bar a bit and generate even more.  If the last couple weeks are any indication, we have a great chance to do it!

 

While seeing so much generosity has been very uplifting, my heart goes out to all those who have, like me and my family, been impacted by cancer.  We’ve received many emails and phone calls from near and far, and most all of them include stories of spouses, parents, grandparents, siblings, friends, or co-workers that battled the disease or are currently doing so.  Some of the messages are very sad, but many are also uplifting – great stories of successful cancer treatments and long lives, or great memories of those who have passed away.   We started this campaign because, in addition to the impact of cancer on our families, we knew many others in similar circumstances.  I think what we’re seeing in all these messages is that the impact is more pervasive in our community than most people realize.  It’s inspired me to do a bit of research regarding cancer diagnosis and survivial rates to get a better feel for this.  I’ll share some findings in a future posting.  Thanks to everyone for offering their personal stories on the topic!

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Although winter came late to NE Ohio (virtually no snow and above-average temperatures until the end of December), it came with a vengeance.  We’ve had over a foot of snow on the ground for most of January and February, and one of the local TV stations recently reported that this was the 2^nd snowiest February on record, with around 35” of total snowfall.  In addition, it has seemed colder than normal, with long strings of days down in the lower 20’s or below – or maybe it just seemed that way, during the endless snow storms.  Through all this, running outside was sometimes a challenge, with a few memorable days where the conditions were the worst I’ve tackled in my (relatively short) running career.

 

But we’ve had a few really pleasant winter days too -- days when there was virtually no wind, clear skies, and a few inches of fresh snow on the ground.  Actually very enjoyable conditions to run in.  Particularly when you’re running the trails of our local Metroparks – naturally scenic, rolling, forested, and quiet.  It makes me thankful to have been exposed to the trail running scene in the first place, and provides great incentive to get outside during a time of the year that many people are sticking to the treadmill or other forms of indoor recreation, if they are active at all. 

 

Which makes me think of a great observation that my Saturday morning training partners, particularly Tim, seem to make each week lately.  From mid-Spring through early Fall, when the weather is warm and drier, the parks are jammed with people – hiking, walking their dogs, having picnics, etc.  As Tim likes to say, during the "nice" weather, you can’t run 5 feet without seeing somebody else out in the woods.  But come winter, we’re often the only people for miles around (not counting those driving by in their cars).  This doesn’t make sense to me.  We have winter clothes.  This isn’t the Arctic, where winter conditions can be lethal.  The parks aren’t closed for the winter.  Dogs love the snow!  So why is everyone hiding until Spring? 

 

Obviously, you have to apply common sense. If conditions are unsafe, don’t be out running, hiking, or whatever you like to do.  But also don’t be afraid of the cold and snow.  Get out there and enjoy our great parks in a very different season, stay active, and be in better condition come Spring.  Don’t listen to Forbes.com – why are snow and cold necessarily bad?  We don’t have the worst weather in the US, we just have a different mix of weather.  If you use winter as a new way to see the outdoors, as a training tool (walking or running in the snow, with extra weight from heavier clothes builds strength), and in general as a new experience, you might even appreciate it!

 

I seem to have always gravitated toward individual sports -- tennis and cycling when I was younger, running now that I'm older.  I never really felt the need, or as much enjoyment, from participating in group sports for some reason.  I guess I prefer the challenge and the satisfaction of being in control of my own progress and results.  It's probably in part a by-product of my somewhat introverted personality, which has always caused me to be a bit shy and hesitant in group settings. 

 

But I'm starting to see the value of being part of a community around the things in my life that I really value.  For example, consider family -- a family (at least one that works well) is in one sense a closely-knit community of people sharing common experiences, goals, and interests, not to mention loving and caring for each other. Through that relationship, family members hopefully learn and grow in a safe environment, and come to rely on the experience and support of the others.  I'm starting to experience some of the same effects in my running.  Up until a little more than a year ago, I always ran alone.  I talked to others about my training, but never did it with them.  Now, I run every Saturday morning with a great group of people.  We're all of different abilities and goals, but the opportunity to learn from the group, share successes and failures with them to get their reactions and feedback, and be motivated by them has done wonders for my development as a runner.  I certainly have a huge amount of room to improve, but I wouldn't be anywhere near where I am (Boston marathon qualifier, finisher of 3 ultra-marathons, etc) without the community.  Knowing that they are expecting me to be there every Saturday (and that if I don't work hard in my training during the week I won't be able to keep up with them!) is a powerful incentive to get out and get my workouts done. 

 

I'm sure that the support and motivation of a group -- sharing interests, goals, challenges, and fears -- is one of the benefits those touched by cancer get from services offered at The Gathering Place.  Being able to talk with people in a similar situation, share feeings with those who understand and have experienced the same physical and emotional concerns, and feel the support of a group, are great things.  Of course that by itself cannot cure the disease.  But I bet in a way it's like what I get from my running group -- a motivator to keep moving forward even though it's hard, a great forum for learning how others are facing the challenge, and, very simply, the support of friends who want to see you succeed.  I hope that through 100 Miles for Life we can help to grow that community in size and strength by generating operating funds for TGP. 

 

Starting a new week of training, with a couple more weeks of 50+ miles behind me.  Feeling pretty good, and my weight is coming down nicely.  Still need to drop a few more pounds to be at peak training weight, but the results are coming.  If I can keep on this pace without injury, I will be in great shape for a strong marathon in May (goal: 3:15-3:20).  BR100 seems so far away but I'm very excited about it -- I hope the level of excitement only builds as we move into the Spring and beyond. 

 

Thanks for all the great emails in support of my efforts.  Keep the encouragement, feedback and donations coming!

Only a couple days live with this site, and already we've received a few donations, several great emails of encouragement, and lots of visitors.  The 100 Miles For Life group on Facebook is approaching 150 members too!  Thanks everyone for your interest and encouragement!

 

I would like to thank one person in particular for his inspiration and encouragement -- both for competing in the BR100 and also this fundraising effort.  Wyatt Hornsby has been a great friend and mentor as I've started to get more serious about my running and pushed my personal envelope in terms of distance.  He's pretty much the reason I got into trail running in the first place, when he dragged me out on the trails more than 2 years ago for the first time.  And watching him compete in the North Coast 24 Hour last October, while raising money for Rainbow Babies & Children's Hospital of Cleveland, generated the idea that became 100 Miles For Life.  I really admire Wyatt's work ethic and dedication when it comes to running (and it has clearly paid off for him -- for example, in his win at the 2009 Mohican Trail 100), and have already learned lots from him that hopefully will help me survive 100 miles.  Thanks for everything Wyatt!!!

 

While it's still early in the training, things are on track.  I completed around 52 miles last week, including a very challenging run in the snow for about 15 miles last weekend.  I plan to be in the low 50's again this week and through end of Feb, then slowly ramping up in March and beyond.  I'm anxious to see how well I can adapt to the higher mileage, but hope that with slow and steady progress I can stay healthy. 

Thanks for visiting!  We've just launched 100milesforlife.org, in an effort to raise funds to support The Gathering Place of Cleveland.  I'm honored to be supporting such a great organization, and extremely nervous and excited (at the same time) about attempting 100 miles.  Via this blog I plan to chronicle my efforts between now and end of July, sharing my thoughts and experiences as I work toward these two critical goals -- generating funds for The Gathering Place, and completing my first 100-mile event!  Please visit often, tell your friends and family, join me in a great cause.  Thanks for your support!