Kissed the ground.  Yup, that was my first act after stepping across the 2010 Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run finish line.  After 16 years of trying to reach that sliver of earth, it finally happened, and I needed to thank the good Lord above and Mother Earth below for enabling it to happen.  This run had brought me to my knees so many times before, it seemed only right - respectful - that I fall to my knees in thanks once the deed was complete.

The Diesel chugged along on June 26th and into June 27th to finish the most venerated ultra run of our times, in 25 hours and 49 minutes.  Words cannot begin to describe the emotions I felt, and still feel about finally achieving this multi-decade goal.  And I am so humbled and speechless by the outpouring of support I received before, during and after the race from my family, friends, colleagues and fellow ultra runners.  Those of you who know me well, have insight into how much completing Western meant to me.  It wasn’t just a 100 miler, or a race - it may have started out that way back in 1993 when I first got into the lottery - but it had become a life’s journey, a test of my strength, endurance, will power and spirit.  I wanted to believe I could change, adjust to the failures, comeback and be a better person for the effort.

Sitting here today, four days after completing the race, I’ve had the opportunity to reflect and assess and can say without a doubt that I have gained refreshed insight into who I am and what I have left to accomplish in this life.  Completing Western closes one gate and open another for me - and I hope to carry forward my experiences in ways I never would have known or appreciated if I hadn’t finished the journey.  Not to go all spiritual on you but in many ways Western has cleansed me.

The Not So Gory Details

Unlike past years, this race went off without the wheels coming off the Diesel train.  Other than a couple of black(er) big toes, I escaped with not a single blister on my feet.  Remarkable given this year we crossed over a dozen creeks and streams before reaching Robinson Flat at ~ mile 30 (due to the late run off of snow pack). Feet were essentially wet for 2/3rd of the day no matter how hard you tried to keep them dry.  My stomach remained steady throughout the entire trip, thanks to the new fueling plan that I adopted right after Western 2009.  I’ll admit the Shot Blocs were hard to choke down by mile 90 and the powder mix that I blend for giving me 300+ calories per hour started to taste like what I was excreting on the trail, but I survived almost exclusively on these two fuels along with S-Cap electrolyte tabs for the entire race.  On three occasions I downed chicken broth and a few pieces of watermellon and banana but that was it.  Oh, and of course began drinking Coke, Seven Up and Ginger Ale like it was shots of Jack Daniels at every aid station starting mile 38.

My race plan was to run well within myself, using the heart rate monitor as my guide.  Normally I’ll run an ultra averaging 135 beats per minute but for Western I chose to go out conservative and run an average of 126 BPM or 70% of my maximum HR.  I wanted to be sure I had the energy and legs to work the four canyons in the middle of the race, which make or break you at Western.  Turns out the plan worked well as I arrived into Duncan Canyon (mile 24) feeling very fresh, Robinson Flats (mile 29) feeling confident and dusty Corners (mile 38) feeling ready to take on the canyons.  I passed many runners down to Swinging Bridge and up Devil’s Thumb (mile 50), climbing the Thumb in 35 minutes.  I threw it into neutral for the long downhill run to El Dorado Creek  (mile 52) and then climbed up to Michigan Bluff aggressively in 50 minutes.  As I came into the MB aid station and saw my phenomenal crew, I got the emotional lift I was looking for to cruise through Volcano Canyon and climb hard up to and through Bath Road (mile 60).  Dan Fowkes, the man who introduced me to all this craziness years ago and dear friend met me at the bottom of Bath Road and provided me with wisdom of what lied ahead.

When I Knew

Approaching Foresthill Aid Station (mile 62) was very uplifting.  The cheering of the crowds, my crew and many friends who had made the trek to see me come in, fuel up and quickly depart, was inspirational and I could feel the adrenaline pump through my veins.  Drew, my youngest son suited up and joined me as we shuffled out of the station and down the road to the Cal Loop.  It was at that moment, where

I felt this incredible and overwhelming feeling sweep over me, that I began to quietly weep.  I realized that this feeling was bliss, euphoria - because I knew I was going to finish and I had all my loved ones around me.  I literally choked on my emotion.

Drew was an exceptional pacer.  He’d only run one trail run before, a 50K race back in early 2009, but his instincts of knowing what to do and say were uncanny.  We began the Cal Loop strong but I discovered my heart rate monitor was malfunctioning giving me unrealistic high readings.

That caused me to back off which in retrospect slowed my system down.  By Cal 2 Aid Station (mile 70) I had begun to have to walk - downhill, uphill and the flats.  The air went out of my body and I just couldn’t muster a steady run as before.  It was also turning dark and I discovered that the trail was difficult to see with the kind of contact lenses I use (one eye for reading and the other for distance).  This all conspired to walk, shuffle, run combo all the way to Cal 3.  I tripped on an undistinguished rock right before  Cal 3 and fell hard on my right shoulder.  Drew described me as looking”in shock” as I lay on the side of the trail gathering my wits.  I had pulled muscles in my hamstring and thighs with the fall and thus slowly returned to my feet, taking inventory of any damages.  Assessing I was fine (thankfully) but for a very sore shoulder, we pressed on.  Admittedly, this fall however, caused me to exercise extreme caution as we moved through the night on narrow, single track trails since at this point in the race, I’d calculated that the only thing that was going to stop me from finishing was a bad fall that could cause a sprain or break which would prevent me from moving.

Drew and I were passed by a few groups of runners/pacers as we exited Cal 3 heading towards the river crossing, Rucky Chucky (mile 78).  No one never likes to be passed as it serves to place negative thoughts in a runner’s mind.  I’m no different.  So, after passing runners the entire day to this point, it was really bothering me that now we, were on the receiving end.  After growing tired of these brief negative thoughts, I summoned up some strength and began to increase our pace and then began to stride and run.  We cruised for about 2 miles right up to the Aid Station and passed all but one of the teams that had passed us along the way in the Cal Loop.  It felt good to be running again indeed.  The river crossing this year was by boat due to the dangerous water level from the snow melt.  The system the officials employed was genius - two ample rubber rafts going from shore to shore in opposite direction with an oarsman powering each swiftly across the gap.  It must have taken less than 2 minutes to make the crossing and our feet were perfectly dry - what a treat!  Drew and I powered up the 2 mile climb to Green Gate (mile 80) and were greeted by our crew who once again were incredibly prepared for our arrival at 11:30 pm.

The Pacer Transition And Into The Night

Patrick, my elder son, took over pacing duties from Drew at Green Gate.  Drew had done his job - getting me to Green Gate in good shape, four hours after leaving Foresthill.  I would have liked to have done it in 3:30 but that wasn’t meant to be given the slow down in the middle of the loop.  Now Pat had the challenge of helping me navigate the narrowest of trails in the dark of night with me struggling to see and my legs, particularly my quads, beginning to give out.  We soon discovered that the full moon we were blessed with was of little use to use.  In fact it cast shadows on an already difficult to see trail, hiding the numrous roots and rocks that seem to just jump up and grab you during this tedious trip in and out and in and out of the canyon towards Auburn Lakes Trail Aid (mile 85) and Brown’s Bar (mile 89).  I had been reduced to a walk, sometimes shuffle.  This was going to be a long trip to the finish but indeed, we had plenty of time to complete our task so we resolved to be safe, avoiding a misstep that could take either of us off the precipitous trail edge and down a ravine.  Numerous times I lost my balance crossing a stream and had to rely on leaning on Pat who would steady me across. He was a rock and a delightful companion all night long.   I must have looked drunk to him at times as I began to weave back and forth as we struggled on.  All day long I’d been 1.5 lbs below my starting weight which was fantastic.  So as we weighed in at ALT, the aid station person pursed her lips and said, “Oh, you’re a pound and half down from your starting weight.  You need to stop and take on some food before going on.”  The look I gave her likely could have bore a hole in her forehead had I not moved my focus towards what was the fastest way out of this station!  After maintaining the same weight all day long, over 85 miles, the last thing I was going to do was stop now and chow down.  So Pat and I made like a slug and slipped out of the station, into the dark abyss, escaping what could have been a big mistake.

By Brown’s Bar (mile 89) I was shuffling again, albeit very slowly.  A steep downhill follows that station and terminates at the river.  I rued this part of the course since by now I realized I had lost all hope of running downhill and was stuck in a single gear - uphill!  So we “ouched” and “ughed” our way down stream and finally (mercifully) hit bottom.  I then attempted to run on the jeep road.  Nothing doing.  So back to a shuffle and walk we went.  Finally we reached the mile climbed to 49er Aid (mile 93.5) and I discovered the uphill gear was fully intact.  we literally flew up that hill, passing numerous teams along the way.  Remarkably, up to 49er, despite the many walking miles, I had maintained my position in the field (about 135-140th) because of our ability to power up the hills.  That however, was about to change in the final 10K.

The Final Push

Patrick had been patient and diligent with me.  He made me drink and eat when I thought it was impossible and kept me moving, step by step without fail.  We never once stopped.  we just kept moving through the night.  At 49ers he handed the pacing duties over to Joe Angel, my best friend from high school, best man at my wedding and I at his) and lifelong soul mate.  Joe jumped in behind me as we powered up the hill towards Cool at a pretty fast clip.  However, I warned him that the 2+ mile downhill to No Hands Bridge (mile 96) was going to be a tedious and slow haul as my quads were now in considerable pain and each step downhill was like someone poking a pocket knife into the muscle.  He was a true friend trying to distract me from the pain with jokes, songs and stories.  I wasn’t cooperating very much as all I wanted was for this to end- NOW!  As we arrived at NHB I knew we were ~4 miles from achieving the goal.  A little adrenaline entered my system and we began to shuffle a bit.  By the time we hit the uphills we were really moving.  The we crested the hill - a point I’d run literally hundreds of times before, and began our last climb up to Robie Point (mile 99) and along the streets of Auburn towards the Placer County High School Stadium.  My entire crew and friends greeted us as we came up the hill and ran with us (Cali our new Welsh Corgi puppy included) all the way to the track for the last mile.

As I hit the red rubber turf of the track, I felt as though I’d been transported into air.  I floated around the track towards the finish line with my entire entourage at my side - moving as quickly as I could muster to be respectable but savoring every step along the way.  As we approached the finish I went left and the crew went right.  I crossed the line at 25 hours, 49 minutes and 54 seconds, 150th place overall.  Then I looked skyward to give thanks and then went to my knees to kiss the earth upon which I’d tread for over a day.

Following the medical check (BP and pulse were normal) and weigh-in (2.5 lbs below starting weight) I hugged my sons, Dan, Joe, Ted Moore and Perry Edward (my dear friends from Auburn and huge supporters) and then hugged Marcy, my biggest fan, my anchor, my life, my love.  My heart beat so hard as she gripped me tight.  It was over.  We had finally conquered the Mountain and now, after all that work to get here, She was rewarding me with an outpouring of love that I will never forget.  “THIS”, I thought to myself, was why I did this - and it was worth every bit of pain along the way.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

I sleep now.

22 days to go…….

The difference on how I feel this year verses last at this point is palpable.

Last year I was had a broken wheel (Achilles), had peaked too soon, no nutrition plan, hadn’t logged the long hard miles in the canyons and had forgotten most of the tricks I’d learned about preparing for a 100 miler (larger size shoes, no heel cup, balancing sodium and calorie intake, heart zones, etc).

This year I deliberately pushed out my peak training 45 days, avoided injury, got a complete handle on my nutrition plan, strapped on the HR monitor, piled on the long canyon runs back-to-back-to-back-to-back….., and have my equipment issues worked out.

That leaves me the peace of mind to focus my last few weeks on mental preparation.  And again, I find myself in a much better place than last year.

2009 was my comeback from a 12 year hiatus from running 100s.  I’d forgotten more than I learned.  I convinced myself that I was ready for WSER but deep down knew I was shaky at best mentally - thus dreaded the race.

This year I am relaxed and genuinely excited and looking very much forward to the run.  Why the difference?  My family and friends will again surround me, be my able crew, pacers and cheerleaders.  I travel to and from the race from my HOME - no packing and sleep in my own bed (we all have that pillow don’t we?)!   Check.

I exercised the “can I still run a 100?” question in August by successfully completing the Burning River 100 without incident.  Check.

I also used a new fueling plan at BR100 designed in conjunction with Meredith Terranova, an ultra runner extraordinaire and registered nutritionist, that enables me to drink 85% of my calories during a 100 miler - and keeps my energy and stomach even throughout the entire run.  Check.

I’ve been training in shoes a 1/2 size larger to assure my toes don’t get trashed at altitude (swelling) and during the relentless downhills of WSER.  After numerous runs of 30-50 miles in the hilly canyons, the toes look almost human!. Check.

And our move back to Northern California enabling me to train on the WSER course, in the canyons, with other great ultra friends training for Western has been invaluable. Double Check.

Now all I have to do is wake up from this dream and run the race in three weeks.  Hopefully this ending will be as good as Lost’s…..without the black smoke and needing to die part

Well it’s that time of year again.  My fancy new race countdown –> (thanks, Dan S.) says there are 47 days left ’til Western 2010.  So if I’m on track with my training, my quads should be nice and tenderized <— and the marinating begins for the final push.  With all the downhill running I’ve been logging lately, my quads feel like the slab of veal in the picture with Mother Nature hammering away on me every step of the way.  I’ve also noticed that the critters of the woods have been watching me with more closely lately, licking their chops, drool spilling down their chins.  Should I be concerned when a black bear seems more interested in me, than a Snickers Bar and he’s carrying in his paw a bottle of Stubby’s Bar-B-Q sauce?

My training plan for this year was to do the same mileage over the nine month approach to Western (1,900 miles) but pick up the miles per week much later in the training, building up more gradually, avert injury(like I had in April last year) and peak in June.   As of this weekend I’m within 37 miles, or 2% of my cumulative miles from last year - so right on track.  The more encouraging fact is the majority of my long runs over the last six weeks have been logged on the Western trails, almost exclusively in the canyons, across truly quad punishing terrain……thus, a big check on the quad tenderizing.  Western, after all, is “all downhill from Squaw”.

So now we marinate, asking tired legs to do more than they want and pushing through the weariness.  I run now in a constant state of blah, where the legs will go but there is no crispness, always aching but nonetheless not injured.  This is the “state of Western” that I want to re-create as many hours will be spend feeling just this way - too tired to go on but yet there is more reserves in the Diesel’s tank to tap.

And if the plan works, for these next few weeks its marinate, recover quickly, then more marinating, recover and repeat.  So 25 miles across 4 canyons yesterday was a slog, but the recovery was indeed very good today.  Onto Silver State 50 in Reno, NV this coming weekend at altitude, plenty of elevation and hopefully snow and heat.  That should be another 12-13 hours TOF (time on feet) in Western-like conditions plus we get to play the dollar blackjack table and nickle slots afterward as part of recovery

Well all the leaves are brown, and the sky is gray.  I’ve been for a run, on a winters day.  I’ll be safe and warm, since I’m livin’ north (way north) of LA, Cali Dreamin’ on such a winter’s day.

Marcy and I moved back to our adopted home of Fair Oaks, just outside of Sacramento, last week.  We always intended to return after Patrick and Drew finished school, but like most of our friends out west, wondered at times whether we’d ever make it back.

So this is a dream come true for us.  We’re so fortunate to have had such a fulfilling life in Boston for 14 years, surrounded by good friends, family and a trunk full of memories.  But the Sierras have always beckoned us and we are equally thrilled to be back to a place that for us, feels most familiar, comfortable and peaceful - home.

I went for my first run the day we returned along the American River which is nearby our house.  Subsequently I traveled just 30 minutes East to Auburn to run on a portion of the Western States trail.   It felt eerily familiar and peaceful returning to the place where I began my ultra running career.  Although my body is considerably more “used” (which affords me the opportunity to take in more of the scenery at a slower pace!), my mind is taken right back to a place that brings me to a state of relaxation and, well just ahhhh.

I’ll be commuting between Sacramento and Newton so look forward to runs with my left and east coast running pals.  I’ll try to spread the good news of the Trail Animals Running Club out west too.

So come visit and stay with us out west.  We’ve plenty of room, the trails are out our backyard and the pool and hot tub are all set to go.  Our door is always open and you are welcome any time.  For those East Coasters needing a place to stay if you are coming out for Western, let me know and I’ll help you with arrangements, suggestions for places to see, visit while you’re out, logistics, pacers, whatever you need.

Hopefully our return to Cali will be blessed with a first completion of Western this June.  Ironic as it seems that my “home course” is my greatest point of failure, I think fate has asserted herself a bit into the whole affair.  This year I’ll be joined by Drew and Patrick as pacers, along with Joe Angel and crew leaders Dan Fowkes and my love, Marcy - all extremely special people in my life who inspire me to be better than I think I can be.  Jen and Teresa will also return to Team Diesel along with numerous local friends who have encouraged me through the years.  I’ll be surrounded by so many people I love - how can I fail?  Answer?  I won’t.

I “ran” - a better description is trudged - the annual G.A.C. FatAss 50K yesterday in Topsfield, MA.  A 10K loop course that runs through scenic and serene Bradley-Palmer State Park, this edition was more challenging than most due to the brisk temperatures (ranging 7 to 20 degrees) and very tricky footing.  There was about 3-4 inches of snow on the ground which was shallow enough to run on but deep enough whereby the microspikes on my running shoes were unable to gain any traction, thus leading to a two steps forward and one slip step back motion throughout the day.  The course got pretty rutty by the second loop from all the runners and increasing softness of the snow which made it very challenging to secure a firm foot plant and maintain forward progress.  Indeed, muscles were worked in places where I didn’t know they existed!   A fine New England early-season workout for sure. Thanks to Chris “C2″ Shanley and Doug “Bulldog” Caverly for running three loops with me - the company made the miles go by much quicker.  C2 was looking like his comeback in preparation for a 3:30 Boston qualifier was right on track.  And Bulldog, a nickname Doug earned this weekend for his intrepid nature as a neophyte to TARC, cranked out the miles in the tough conditions like a true Trail Animal.

The difficulty in movement made me think of Sir Ernest Shackelford, the regaled  Antarctic explorer who in 1916 performed one of the most astounding rescues of his ship’s crew ever reported.  During one portion of his rescue, he trekked across a mountainous glacier for 36 hours, encountering deep snow, blinding solar glare and frigid temperatures.  I experiences only a tiny sliver of what he surely endured yet, found it exhausting.  I can only imagine how mentally disciplined he must have been to remain focused on his goal and sustain unimaginable amount of pain and suffering.  If you haven’t read one of the two or three excellent novels about Shackelford andhis ship, the Endurance, I’d highly recommend them.

So it’s onward and upward towards Western States 2010.  167 days and counting…..I’ll be keeping Sir Ernest in mind this year to gain perspective during those troughs of training and during the event itself.  A reminder that what we are capable of enduring is all relative…..and in the mind.

If you have luck, embrace it, for it is fleeting

Embrace I shall - and try to spread it around a little too.

The short version is…..

I was selected from the Western States 100 lottery and will be given another crack at the Mountain on June 26, 2010.   Given the odds (~16%) of being selected, I feel extremely fortunate.  I don’t plan on squandering my opportunity.

Marcy and I have bought a home in Fair Oaks, CA along the American River just east of Sacramento.  I’ll keep a rental in Boston and we’ll shift our home base back to our favorite place in the world - Fair Oaks.

Patrick, our eldest and Jennifer Fulton, his long-term girlfriend are engaged and we are thrilled.  Pat also was accepted into Emory University’s MBA program beginning in the fall of 2010.  Drew finished up his highly successful soccer career and is focused on completing his senior year at Washington & Lee.  Then onto the “real world.”

I plan to keep this attempt to complete Western low key.  Focus on the goal of completing the run and adjust my training, nutrition and equipment/gear for that sole purpose.

Given I am oh-for-three at Western, it is the only ultra I’ve DNFed on and it seems to have my number, I look forward to the physical and mental challenge ahead.  Yeah, I know, I’m an idiot for continuing this quest but I’ve got to get it done or there will be a hole inside me.   All I can say is I’m humbled and appreciate all your support.

More to come……….

After Western I was beginning to wonder whether the wheels on the Diesel’s chassis still had enough in them for a 100 miler.  Sure, we can take day excursions up and down the hills on 50Ks and 50 milers.  But would this old hunk of Diesel sinew be able to pull the all-nighter after so many years in the roundhouse?  Was the Western derailment an unfortunate set of circumstances or an omen?  Was I destined for pulling kiddies around a narrow gauge track at Folsom Zoo?  These weighty questions tugged at my whistle……

So while I was in relatively good 100 mile shape, I decided to put all this to a test.  If I could figure out a new nutrition plan, recover from Western, pace Chris Shanley (”C2″) for his inaugural 100 run at Vermont and find another race, I’d give it a go.  I had three weeks to make it happen.

First I called Kevin Sullivan, a Trail Animals Running Club member, friend and top 10 finisher at this year’s Western (5th overall) and asked him about his nutrition plan that worked so well.  Long story short, I’ve been working with a registed nutritionist and ultrarunner over the past three weeks and we devised a whole new plan of attack for leading up to and during the run.  Check.

Second, my recovery, feet and all, has been was without incident.  I was able to climb up to the Escarpment (mile 4.5) at the top of Squaw Valley with Drew and Teresa the Wednesday following Western and then run all the way back down. Check.

Third, C2 had a great VT100 (finished in 24:33) and it gave me a chance to try out the new nutrition plan and practice night running.  Check.

Finally, I found a 100 miler that fit into the schedule and still had open registration.  I made the call to run it after feeling good at Vermont.   Check.

So off to the Burning River 100 Marcy and I went on Friday.  The race is located north of Akron and runs through a string of state and federal parks.    This is no Western States, but few races are.  But it is still 100 miles (actually this one was 101.2) and would be more than enough to put the engines to a test.  I had planned to run alone without a pacer but at the last minute Chris Haley (”C1″) threw sanity away and said, “Hey, I’ve been dying to go to Cleveland and I need a long run in the dark anyway so why don’t I pace you?”  

This race was littered with good karma.  First, the day we arrived in Ohio (MLB trade deadline) the Red Sox got Victor Martinez from the Cleveland Indians - a great trade.   Then it turns out that the aid station Chris will pick me up to start pacing was called Boston Station.  Finally, there was an aid station located at an old train depot where today the train operates as a tourist ride up and down the park.   Son of a gun if I didn’t pull into that aid station right when the diesel engine was pulling in!  And then again after running an hour loop I arrived back at the same aid station only to be greeted again by the train coming back in the other direction.  In fact we had to wait for the train to leave before proceeding on the run since the trail crossed the tracks!

Anyway, I finished in a time of 23:32.  It wasn’t pretty but it sure was satisfying.  Marcy was remarkable as crew chief and even got to experience the joy of “field dressing” my feet at mile 70 something after slogging through the mud and watching me smear handfuls of Vaseline to “sooth the boys” who were severely chaffed  (I’ve decided this race will forever be remembered as the Burning Balls 100 :-)    She also did the video and still camera.  She/we stayed up 43 straight hours without much sleep - what a partner!  And C1 was a delight to have on crew and dragged me a along those last 40 miles to cross the finish line….and get me in under 24.   He’s a rock.

Meanwhile, as word leaked out of my shenanigans, Marcy began receiving texts and voice mails from friends and family wondering what f*&$#@& was going on.  And since they had a web cast (this one actually worked), there were a bunch of people following my progress aid station to aid station - which was really uplifting.

So the Diesel still can do the distance.  The nutrition plan worked well, the training paid off and my resolve to conquer the Western beast has never been more enboldened.  Onward up the tracks and into the 2010 Western lottery in December!

See all the photos here

Thanks to Audi and their new ad campaign.  They’re educating the world to a fact watchers of this blog have known all along - that a clean DIESEL is a good diesel.

I plan to be doing my part on Saturday and running green for the entire race.  I may leave a bunch of footprints (they won’t be carbon), and a few other fully biodegradable items on the trail…. but I’ll be carbon neutral

My Polar watch/HR Monitor has a feature where you can program a message above the time that counts down to an event.  My watch say, “3 WESTERN” - gulp.

Lift off to see the sun again (how long has it been in New England?) is 6.0 hundred sharp tomorrow.  Marcy and I have got everything pretty much packed and ready to go.  She has taken SO much stress out of this process bless her.  She has long since learned to manage my stress by removing obstacles that may be a cause.  Not only is she smart but she’s loving and supportive….and thankfully all mine.

Thank you to all of you for the constant support you have shown me throughout this arduous process.  Your love and support humbles and grounds me.  It gives me strength and perspective.  I will use that strength to carry me home to Auburn and the elusive finish line that I for so long have envisioned.  And I’ll keep my perspective that in the end, this is only a run and for pete’s sake, I’m voluntarily submitting myself to whatever pain that’s coming.  There are so many in this world who suffer pain every day, for which they possess no control.

Intraspectively, I suppose I’m trying to prove something to myself.  That I’m not the chubby little fat boy who’s nickname was Butox and Bubbles and played right field in little league and could never climb the rope to the ceiling in gym class.   That’s him to the right ——->>>>

…….but that was then, and this is now.  I’m focused, I’m prepared and I’m ready.

Comparing this little romp through the woods I have scheduled for next Saturday to man’s first step onto the moon courtesy of Neil Armstrong is like comparing a peck on the cheek from Grandma to your first real kiss.  But I’m thinking what Neil and I do have in common is that we both had a bowline knot in our respective stomachs before our deed.

I’m guessing Armstrong’s stomach was doing back flips before he stepped out into the lunar atmosphere, descended those few steps and placed his boot firmly upon the moon’s dusty surface.  My stomach has been telling me for days that the Big Event is looming.  I’m sleeping less soundly too, waking up in the middle of the night and visualizing myself trundling down the trails, passing those familiar landmarks, feeling the ache in my legs and seeing friends and family at aid stations.  It’s all so real; and in less than 7 days it will be.

I’m a liar if I don’t admit I’m apprehensive, anxious, even scared.   I’m all of those.  I’m at the same time excited, eager and calm.  This year, unlike my two prior attempts at finishing Western (1994 and 1996), I feel prepared physically and operationally and mentally.  I have worked hard since September to slowly build a strong base over three months, emphasising not just running but strength and flexibility.  And I added cross training to the regime.  During the second 3 months I increased intensity and, building upon my base I increased fitness, endurance and strength.  And in the final three months I’ve tried to maintain that high level of fitness and endurance and remain healthy.  With the exception of an Achilles’ heel issue in April/May, I was successful in attaining my physical training goals and stand ready, a week away from the run feeling more physically healthy than any other time in my life.

But the more important improvement in training has been my preparation - and alteration in my planning for the operations of the run (i.e. race plan, pace, running style crewing, eating, medications, etc.) and mental readiness.

Thanks to Dan Fowkes’ (the Johan Bruyneel of ultrarunning) generosity of time and dedication to getting me across the finish line, he and I have devised a thorough, details and customized race plan to optimize my odds.  I cannot tell you how much I now appreciate the positive impact having a well thought out plan has and in building my confidence and allowing me to relax.  I’ve got a plan for every step of the race.  All I have to do is follow it.  That frees me up to relax and focus on the task at hand - constantly monitoring my health and welfare like a pilot monitors his instruments in the cockpit.  And as adversity comes along, which it inevitably will - numerous times during the race - I can attend to it proactively and rely upon my plan to remain calm.

With proper physical and operational preparation, I have been able to focus on the mental aspect of the run.  Positive thinking, visualization, meditation, anticipating what will happen to me and how I will embrace the adversity, the pain - has strengthened my confidence and resolve.

And away we go…..7 days and counting….

Our race numbers for Western were issued and mine is 171.

Now the number 17 is apparently a pretty symbolic prime number with all sorts of religious and zodiac symbolism - at least according to some fairly whacked out web sites I stumbled upon (my Son’s Drew favorite web site).   It’s all good - mostly - with then few exceptions of references to Hades, Satin, evil doings and some kinky sexual acts.  Let’s put it this way, I’m guessing when I crawl past Devil’s Thumb at mile 48 as I ascend a 2.5 mile steep-ass climb, the Thumb might just

Devil's Thumb - Mile 48

Actually, the number 7 has always been a pretty lucky number for me.  And the fact that it is surrounded by two ones gives it symmetry.  Bob is a palindrome and so is 171.  The ones could represent my two previous attempts at finishing Western and the 7 is my third try - a lucky number representing a finish.  27 (1+1, 7) has been one of the luckiest numbers in my life.  We have lots of 27s running through our families in the form of birthdays, house numbers, et al.   So, I guess, in spite of the devilish overtones, I’m pretty darn pleased with good ol’ 171.

This year Western has added a new feature to help friends and family members track their runner during the race.  It is an animated webcast which can be accessed by clicking here on raceday (http://webcast.ws100.com/).  I believe all you’ll need is my name and race number.

Also new this year: “Where’s my runner” by email.  For those of you with a Blackberry or iPhone who want to track me, an email-based service that will send brief emails reports on me as the race progresses and I arrive at each checkpoint, finishes or drops (shutter at the thought!).  Sign-up for this service will be offered starting in mid-June (I guess next week) via an option on the webcast site referenced above.  So check that site out if you want to be super hip and impress all your friends by showing them that you are getting updates about some maniac that is running around in the wilderness in the dark.  Trust me, you’ll be the only person in the bar - the city - the state for Pete’s sake, that has this

Although tempting, and I do actually have a Twitter account, I’m not planning on Tweeting my way across the Sierras.  I still haven’t figured out why anyone frankly cases what I’m eating, what pot I’m pissing in or how funny I think Conan’s guest tonight is.   Call me generation challenged, but there are only a few people in the world that I’d actually like to know what they are up to from time-to-time: My wife, Halle Berry and I guess if I were under house arrest, my parole officer.

Training marches on.   Am I nuts, or just a piece of sirloin?

I’m in taper mode physically while I ramp up my mental  preparation.  I feel like a piece of meat being prepared for tenderizing.  I’m thinking I should be rubbing eggs over my body and rolling around on a floor covered in breadcrumbs.  I bought a foam roller to loosen up the tendons and muscles in my legs.  This thing is something right out of the dungeons of York and days of Henry VIII (which BTW is an exceptional Showtime series - The Tudors - a must see).  Marcy asked me the other night if I was OK - I guess I sounded like I was either having a heart attack or giving birth as I rolled my IT bands over this evil tool.  I think, from the look in her eyes (and the drool on her face) that she also might have been visualizing me stuck on a skewer, surrounded by green peppers, onions and  mushrooms……I have been avoiding going near the bar-B-Q lately…..But I digress.

It is hard to describe to someone who hasn’t been there themselves, the place that ultra runners go - especially during a 100 mile race - physically, mentally and spiritually.  It is truly a spiritual journey and if one is lucky enough to arrive, it is euphoric - for the brief time you are there.  Is it all worth the pain to achieve the gain?

The game is mind over matter and spirit over mind.

Western will break me down physically to the core, there’s little doubt of that.    The course is comprised of 100 miles of single track trails and Jeep roads that traverse over some of the most rugged portions of the Sierra Nevada Mountains with a change in altitude - up and down - of almost 40,000 feet.  The heat will be brutal (ranges 90-115 degrees) and the punishment the quads, hamstrings, glutes, ankles and calfs take from the pounding downhills and steep climbs in and out of four canyons - one after the other - is unforgiving.   I’ve spent 9 months trying to prepare my body for this adventure best I could.  That’s over now and I can do no more.

The body will attempt to wear down and conquer the mind throughout the run.  My body will be arguing with my mind all day and night about wanting to quit.  “Why are you doing this to us?” the quads will scream.  “You’ll do permanent damage to me“, the Achilles’s heel will bark.  “You’re only a scissor cut away from removing your wrist bracelet and grabbing a chair and a beer…..do it, do it now!“, the hammies will moan.   As I get tired my mind will be more and more tempted to succumb to my body’s pleas.  It really wears you down mentally.

That’s when I’m stripped to the absolute core - no longer reliant on my body or mind.  It’s then that it’s all up to the spirit within me.

In the end, it isn’t my mind or body that will enable me to achieve my goal - to finish Western.  It’s all going to be up to my spirit.

So for these final two weeks - good grief - TWO WEEKS! - I will be spending my time preparing my mind to go as deep into the race as possible and my spirit to take me the rest of the way home.  To that end my mantra which I’ll repeat over and over and over again during the race is, “Really really bring on the pain!”  Pain will not be my enemy but my ally.  I’ll draw strength from it, look forward to it, let it wash over me.  I know this all sounds a bit masochistic and even satanic but as I said earlier, it’s hard to explain the justification of the pain if you haven’t experienced the gain.

I suppose, the euphoria drug users feel, in a fleeting moment, resembles the place I speak of.  But instead of being followed by dread and regret, those ultra runners who complete their journey are left with the feelings and memories of a journey to a place that is heaven on earth.  If there is such a place a Nirvana, this is it. Yes, the gain justifies the pain.

The great state of Vermont is famous for many features - the Green Mountains, maple syrup, bark-chewing, granola-chomping residents, corn mazes, of course Vermont Teddy Bears (couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a product plug) and manure.  But what one doesn’t associate with VT are roller coasters…..until now.

C1, C2 and I decided to test our fitness and strength this past Friday by scheduling a 50 mile training run in the beautiful Green Mountains on a portion of the Vermont 100 course.  For C1 it was to see how well he managed his recovery from the prior week’s 50 mile Pinelands race he had finished - that would be 105 miles for him in 5 days.  C2 was testing his chronic IT band issues which has plagued him for several weeks.  This was also a chance for him to preview the hilliest portion of the VT100 which he would be running in mid-July; his inaugural 100 endurance run.  And for me, another step in my slow but steady recovery after the Achilles heel injury, following up on a 50K from last weekend but yet unable to run on the trails without pain.  So we all had business to attend to.

Our 5:30 am departure from Weston seemed early enough to get us up there in plenty of time (2 hour drive) drop water at a few spots along the 24 mile loop and then get going and finish before dark.  So we thought.

We arrived at the Ascutney Mountain campground at 8:00am and secured a

Drew Crowley @ Camp10Bear (1997)

We decided to drive the course with my Pacifica (actually Marcy’s) which was loaded with our camping and running gear and water.  Almost immediately we got lost, and in very non-man behavior actually stopped to ask for directions from a friendly neighbor in which we had ended up in her dirt driveway :-).  She informed us the road we were seeking was a class something or other - in other works, “no way are you going to drive it with that car, or any 4 wheel drive vehicle for that matter.”

So onto Plan B.  We hopscotched ahead on the course and put H2O out at around mile 8, then drive deeper into the woods on a seemingly good quality dirt road.  That all changed suddenly and we were back to a potholed, rocky, swampy mess pretty quickly.  Cooler minds prevailed as we were able to navigate a “in-the-woods” three point turn and head back out to civilization.  We were able to put out two more jugs of water but not where we had originally intended due to the roads all being nearly un-driveable.  No matter, close enough.  But we had spent valuable daylight setting up and now were only on our feet starting the run at 10:30 am.  We knew we’d be getting in some night run training at this point.

Loop one was a bit on the chilly side and gray skies prevailed although somehow, we avoided any major downpours - though threatening.  C2’s IT band required frequent stretching during the first couple of hours which was a welcome reprieve as C1 and myself were glad to warm up slowly after last weekend’s long runs.  My heel seemed to be “there” but behaving.

We saw a fair bit of wildlife along the way - geese, cattle and calves, oxen, horses, quail, turkey, hawks, raccoons, deer, bulls and newts.  We of course were enamored with our first find of the red-spotted newt, believing we had discovered something rare and precise.  Maybe an omen of good luck?  After we stopped counting our numerous sightings 11 hours later, many of which were deceased after being crushed by vehicles during their long road crossings (so abandoned the omen thesis!), we realized the oxen we had seen - and C1 had grown accustomed to - were actually more rare than these fluorescent little fellas.

Lap one went off without incident.  We finished the loop after getting off course for a mile or two just once in about 5 hours and 35 minutes (25+ miles).  Our detour had us happen upon Yang Ting, a lovely VT farmer who was tending to the aforementioned apple-in-his-eye oxen that C1 has been drawn to …… and they to him….but I digress…and that’s no yoke…..actually it is…..:-).  She owned four border collies which greeted us enthusiastically.  “Bear” was the alpha and apparently one them was the mother of the other three.  Yang got us back on course quickly after tempting us with a shortcut.  “I’ll never tell anyone” she whispered to us with a grin.

We took about 15-20 minutes at the car to change socks, tape our feet, put on warmer clothing, grab headlamps and feed our faces.  We especially excelled at the feeding out faces part

We ambled out for loop deux with bellies full and muscles nicely stiffened up.  Once again we ran and walked with some stretching along the way for sometime.  Time did seem to go by more quickly in lap 2 as we now knew the course and didn’t carry with us the extra burden of the potentially of getting lost.  Now we could fully focus on the beautiful Vermont countryside and scenery that surrounded us as the sun actually broke through and a glimpse of blue skies could even be seen.  We also could focus on whatever ailed our bodies which were calling out to each of us with various aches, hot spots and atrophy.  We passed one of C1’s memorable spots which was a beautiful grassy meadow filled with colorful wild flowers with the Green Mountain in the background.  He called it the “Sound of Music” meadow and broke into a rugged attempt at “The hills are alive…..” - really rugged

We actually only had to run about an hour or so in the dark as it turns out since Mother Nature was kind enough to provide light to us until almost 9:00 pm.  We reached the car for the second and final time at about 10 PM so by my calculation we covered the 50 miles in 10:54 not counting the long aid station between lap 1 and 2 and actually negative split (lap 1 5:35 and lap 2 5:19).

We all felt pretty darn good all things considered and determined we’d head over to the nearby pizza joint for a greasy reward.  Foiled again (it was closed by the time we got there), we punted and returned to the campsite, quickly cooked up veggies burgers and downed local VT beer (Magic Hat #9 and Long Trail), dragged out the sleeping bags and hit the hay - well actually hit the wood floor of the lean-to - at about midnight.  None of us slept much as the floor was pretty hard and our various muscles were calling out for more comfort.  We arose at 4:00 am, showered and took off for a true ultra runner’s breakfast - Denny’s Grand Slam, in White River Junction.  Then headed home for the weekend.

Early reports back are everyone is recovering well - which is an excellent sign.  This was a great confidence builder for everyone.  C1 is ready to go and has three months to stay healthy and strong.  He is looking awesome.  C2 tested his IT band and performed exceptionally well.  He also had some issues with his stomach and some low spots along out run which he was able to fight through and overcome - all traits of a true ultra runner.  And for me, I continue to advance my recovery and feel that I’ve made the right choice in giving this injury time to mend and shifting my efforts to cross training.  I’m back on schedule as I prepare for the run of my life.

We determined this run required us to walk about 65-70% of the time due to the roller coaster nature of the hills.  We were constantly going up and down with little flat breaks in-between.  So we practiced our power walking and disciplined ourselves to walk every uphill, control our downhill running and pushing along a good pace (the ultra shuffle) when we did have flats.  And we continued to follow the slow and steady mantra with an average heart rate of around 65% of max.  Thanks to C1 and C2 for a great training run, encouragement and friendship.  This is really what it’s all about.

After a month, the cone of silence has been lifted. 

My Achilles heel injury occurred on April 19th and since then, I’ve been experiencing my first true test of the thesis we grow wiser with age.  15 years ago I would have been determined to “beat this thing” and whip my body into submission.  But in 1996 I was forced to drop out of Western at Foresthill (mile 62) due to a deep heel contusion which I had contracted just 4 weeks before at the Western Camp training run.  It never really healed and I never gave it a chance as I continued to train hard right up until the end.

So with that incident fresh in my mind, and advise from many trusted friends, I decided to travel down a different path this time around with my injury.  I had 70 days to recover from the overuse injury - a grade 3 Achilles heel on the left foot.  That seemed like an eternity but then those are 2 months of prime training - peak training in fact - for the event.  So I determined that I would rely on my strong base which I had built up over 8 months (2,300 miles) and cross training to maintain my cardio and fitness - cycling, walking and lifting - all which I could still do.   It appears I made the right choice.

With 30 days until Western, the process of giving the injury a chance to heel, emphasizing cross training and intently performing a rigorous physical therapy regime daily, I may have been able to dodge a bullet…..and it “missed me by that much“- as agent Maxwell Smart would have said

Ironically, my fitness and strength have actually improved during my injury.  I jumped on the cycle trainer in my basement and did my best Lance Armstrong imitation, touring the Alps in France and Italy on my virtual real-life videos as I pounded the hills and kept the quads, calfs and hamstrings tuned-up along with my heart.  My weight lifting added work on my calfs to strengthen the muscles that support my heels and feet and although I’m not rivaling Johnny Drama’s implanted calfs, my guys are at least looking in proportion to my quads.   I logged the top four weeks of running-equivalent miles (my point system for converting running, lifting and cycling into a running mile of effort) since I began training: 100, 140, 151 and 119 miles (see my training log) and have begun running again as of last weekend when I was able to complete a 50K on the roads.

My breakthrough was the prior week when I went over to the Blue Hills to meet up with some of the Trail Animals and rather than running with them on a long run, decided to walk up the Observatory Road (.9 miles, 12% average grade) to test my heel.  I was extremely nervous as prior attempts to stress the heel at all had led to multi-day set backs.  So I took it very slow and steady up the hill.   As I reached the summit, I was greeted by a young boy flying his kite off the rock ledge which stretched out over the ski slope below.  It was a beautiful sunny morning with blue skies and a favorable breeze.  He nodded at me and I at him (queue the music, break out the tissues, ready the earplugs as I prepare to belt out, “I’m Freeeee, free fallin’…..”).  I felt good - the heel felt good - so I decided to head back down the hill which would be another test down the very steep decline. 

Much to my surprise - and pleasure - the heel was behaving.  So, in Forest Gump-like behavior, I did what any self-respecting diesel would do -  I just keep going, up and down and up and down……13 times up and down - just short of a marathon of hill repeats all walking!

Turns out that day was an open house for the observatory so they had arranged for a bus to ferry people up and down the steep sloped hill for visits.  So as I continued my sojourn up then down and so on throughout the morning, the bus driver began stopping and talking with me as he passed.  By my fifth lap we were friendly acquantaces, with him asking me what exactly I was doing and, “Do you want a lift?”   By the eight lap we were friends and he began urging me on, telling me how many laps I’d completed and, “You’re looking good” for encouragement.  The last three laps I was joined by Trail Animals C1, C3 and Big Ben who had just wrapped up their 4 hour trail run and wanted to throw in a few hill repeats of their own.  I welcomed the company and the bus driver, upon seeing the pack that had formed with the four of us ascending the hill, stopped and said, “You’re famous, I’m telling everyone I pick up on the bus about this crazy thing you’re doing - they love it.  They want your autograph!”

And so what goes up, must come down - it’s inevitable.  But good old common sense, determination and a little good fortune can make sure the correlary holds true, what goes down, will go up……. eventually!  That’s something I will be repeating to myself over and over again during my Western run - my mantra.

Marcy and I saw this yesterday - AWESOME movie!

She’ll tease you
She’ll unease you
Just to please you
She’s got Bette Davis eyes

Kim Carnes might have been referring to the Western trail when she groaned out this classic in 1981. But we’re not talking eyes today, we’re talking calfs - Johnny Drama Calfs……

Chugga, chugga, whoo, whoo! The Diesel has chugged up the hill and is rounding the corner on a track heading for Squaw Valley. Phase Deux concluded three weeks ago, coinciding with my return from the left coast and Tour de Western. Phase One was designed to build a strong base over 12 weeks. I averaged 51 miles of running per week and a total of 65 “running equivalents” per week - adding in cycling, lifting and yoga.

Phase Deux was devised to increase strength and endurance by increasing running mileage, especially on tougher terrain and adding in more hills and back-to-back long runs. This 12 week phase ended with logging 300 miles over three weeks on the Western course - including a 50K and 50M race. My peak running week was 91 miles. The Diesel wheels were smokin’ and I was burning up the oil. I was able to manage escaping injury up until the last day, when I ran the American River 50 miler and twisted my left ankle 90 degrees 41 miles into the run. The residual impact wasn’t felt fully until this past weekend. Since AR50 I’ve been able to keep running, albeit more delicately, but the combination of running the Don’t Run Boston 50K ten days ago and running a tempo long run this past Saturday, the Achilles heel on the left foot finally had enough and swelled up on me.

So as I enter my 4th of 12 weeks in the third and final phase of training, I’m reminded of this phase’s goal: maintain, peak and stay healthy. The injury has caused me to reconsider my preparations and adjust my Phase 3 plan slightly - which, I believe, is all for the good. I’m planning to give the heel plenty of TLC and time to recover so as not to aggravate or drag the injury closer and closer to Western. Being as healthy as I can possibly on race day is far more important than being at the absolute pinnacle of fitness. So I will be switching to a heavy emphasis on cycling - increasing my time in the saddle on my Tacx trainer by +80% or more and avoid running for two weeks. I’ll maintain my cardio and quad strength and meantime will be adding supplemental calf and foot strengthening exercises to my lifting regime to make sure as the foot/ankle recovers, I surround it with strong and stable muscles.

I’m getting aggressive physical therapy from Andrew Rizza, our high school’s ATC and my go-to guy (as he was for both Patrick and Drew) for any and all sports injuries. He is using a brand new technology on my feet and heel that used highly compressed air to blast away at the injury, peeling back scar tissue while accelerating healing - it already appears to be having a dramatic positive impact on the heel.

Frankly, my calfs have been a weakness of mine in the past so this is a great excuse to give them the attention they deserve. I’m going for broke - I want Johnny Drama calfs!

He’ll pump them
He’ll jump them
Just to thump you
He’s got big honkin’ Johnny Drama calfs

C1, C2 and I were out running the DRB50K a weekend ago when somehow the topic of “rich Corinthian leather” and Ricardo Montalban came up (I know, I know but when you run 6+ hours together what else are you going to talk about? :-).  Of course that took me right to my most excellent Tattoo imitation from the Fantasy Island television series back from the late 70s.

So I thought of Tattoo when the inevitable happened and an injury finally caught up to me after 8 months of training.  It reminded me it’s all about taking care of da feet and if you don’t they will bring you down.  So the increase in mileage during Phase Deux of the training regime has led to an overuse injury - my left Achilles heel.  It may have started when I turned my ankle 90 degrees at mile 41 of the AR50 a few weeks ago.  It was exacerbated by last weekend’s DRB 50K which is loaded with steep uphills.  And it was pushed over the edge on Saturday when I went for a 15 miler in Weston at a pretty good clip.  I arrived home with a swollen tendon that hurt to the touch.

Ah well, this is where the “wisdom” of my tender age intervenes.  In the 90s I would have convinced myself, “Just run through the pain…..you can’t afford to get off your training schedule and get out of shape….”  But these days I immediately went into a whole different mode.  I researched the injury on the internet, determined the severity (stage 3 or 4) and recommended length of time for full recovery (2-4 weeks) and put together a recovery plan.  With 61 days until Western I have ample time to recover and actually strengthen my heels and calf muscles - something that will only benefit me on race day.  I also have been cycling and lifting every week so I have the opportunity to significantly increase the cycling to keep my cardio level high and work my quads without further injuring the heel and add calf strengthening to my lifting regime which will help me fight off the plantar faciitis from returning.

So I see this obstacle as a gift - a chance for my body to recover from the recent month of intense training yet not lose the strength and cardio base I’ve worked so hard to build.  I may lose a little edge in the prior two categories but what I’ll gain from being healthy at the starting line more than outweighs trying to push my fitness even further.  I need to peak for Western and with 2 months to go, this gives me an ideal opportunity to do just that.

So let the icing, heating, stretching, strengthening and recovery begin.  ‘Cause Boss, I won’t be defeated by da feet!

The Dieselcam was out and about during the Tour de Western in March.  Below are a few samples of the majestic beauty of the Western trails and although the video doesn’t do it justice, the steep single track trails that we encounter NUMEROUS times during the run.  These shots are taken heading down from Deadwood (mile 50) to El Dorado Creek (mile 52.9) before ascending to Michigan Bluff (mile 55.7)

Actually, it’s Don’t Run Boston 50K - the 13th annual running of the Trail Animals Running Club’s “alternative” to running the infamous marathon which runs the day after on Patriot’s Day in Massachusetts.  The DRB was conceived in 1996 when the Boston Marathon was celebrating it’s 100th running.  The commercialization had reached new heights and many of us in the trail running community questioned whether things had gone a bit too far.  So the idea was conceived by races director Howie Breinan that maybe we should hold an “anti” race the day before in solidarity and protest to the downfall of our beloved road race and then those that elected, could still run Boston the next day in true back-to-back ultra ways.

So DRB began as a modest, “old school” ultra in the Blue Hills Reservation ,a network of hundreds of miles of trails located just outside of the City of Boston in Milton.  There was (and still is not) any trail markings, awards, entry fee or hoopla - just a good old fashioned run in the woods.  It is an official 50K and thus the results are recorded and posted in Ultrarunning Magazine, but beyond that formality, all else is truly informal - just the way we like it.

Yesterday was the largest field ever for DRB - 25 strong.  There were a few late drops so I believe the field was 22-23 but clearly the revitalized Trail Animals Running Club and new web site (www.trailanimals.com) helped the swelling numbers.  We may have had the best day yet for weather as blue skies and a crisp 45 degrees at the start led to a warming up to 58 and near perfect conditions.  Nostalgia was also in the air as C1 broke out the retro TARC singlets from the 90s and we introduced the new technical t-shirts sporting the new Trail Animals logo.  All were in good cheer at the start, which is at Houghton’s Pond, where Howie draws a line in the dirt with his toe and quite unceremoniously utters, “Go!”

I had long since committed to continuing my renewed training ways established during Tour de Western and thus my race goals were three-fold: 1) don’t fall (not an easy goal to keep given the preponderance of roots and rocks covered in leaves), 2) run injury-free and 3) stick to an average HR of 126 bpm.  Chris “C1″ Haley and Chris “C2″ Shanley, my dear friends and regular running partners had decided they got religion and were going to run with me at whatever pace my heart set.  So off we went.  It wasn’t long before we were running alone, the three of us together, and commented how this seemed like all the other training runs we had performed over the fall and winter - “precisely”, I said, “That’s the idea.  Slow and steady.”  And so it was we progressed through the day adhering to this steady plan of walking most of the hills, recovering when necessary and never really pushing the pace too much.  Our objective was to finish feeling strong and to wake up the next day feeling fresh and ready to run again - a quick recovery - that would be the standard for testing our fitness.

There were no incidents during the run, except that I was only able to adhere to one of my three goals - sticking to my average HR of 126.  I tripped twice and fell, in the most unlikely places I might add - once traveling up hill and then again only minutes later - late in the run.  C2 took a spill too, and demonstrated his skill at the trip and roll - where he immediately is back on his feet.  C1 survived the day without fall, but I commented he needn’t join the club since I fell once for me and again for him.  I also developed a slight muscle discomfort around my left Achilles heel about an hour into the run.  I was able to run through it but wondered if it would swell afterwords.  Fortunately it did not, and careful care has been given to it since finished and today it feels well on the way to a quick heeling.

We finished side-by-side in 6:44, a respectible time given we walked most hills and kept the pace much slower than if were were intending to actually race.  I think all three of us were pleased at how good we felt.  All-in-all a successful training run on a glorious day.

Exhibit A (11/08)

As promised, and due to overwhelming demand and interest (you know who you are….”you”

Exhibit B (4/09)

To the right is Exhibit B, the same toes in April, 2009, 5 months later.   As you can plainly see, “rightie” has blossomed into a full-fledged dead head while “leftie” has been clipped down to size.  All-in-all, they are both holding up remarkably well under the circumstances and hanging on for dear life.  You’ll also note that “#2″ on Leftie is carefully wrapped in duct tape to protect him from the nasties oozing out of “Big Daddy” next door.

Fortunately, they have not met their Maker yet like these poor fellows below who belong to one, Dan “Footsie” Fowkes who in just one race, Way Too Cool 50K, completely annililated an entire community of toe nails……poor things, they never stood a chance with the way Dan pounded the downhills and wore his running shoes “tight and short”…..

Footsie Fowkes R.I.P.