For the last twelve months my training has been focused on one goal; doing well at the Mount Washington Road Race. This year, the 7.6 mile race, climbing Mt. Washington's Auto Road to the 6,288 foot summit, was serving as the National Mtn. Running Championships. The top 4 finishers in the race would make the US Mtn. Running Team and travel to Switzerland for the World Trophy Race.
After lengthy talks with the producers of the Food Network show, they decided to shoot the Mt. Washington race as the big finale to the show. Their romantic vision included me winning the race and being crowned National Champion. Despite my best efforts to inform them that I was in NO such shape, and that I was hoping for a top 15 performance, they would counter with "stop being so modest", or "don't sell yourself short". Needless to say, the pressure for me to perform was HIGH.
To keep the production of the show within budget, they wanted to group much of the filming into one weekend. This action packed adventure was to include filming me training in Central Park Friday morning, a lecture in NYC on Friday night (my first talk in New York, and we had 9 days to find a place and fill it with people - thanks Tera and Guy Goldmeer), filming on my family's farm in Vermont on Saturday morning, a five hour drive to New Hampshire Saturday afternoon, then up at 6am Sunday morning to begin filming for the race... oh, and then I had to run up a mountain 6,288 feet high.
By the time I got to New Hampshire I was run ragged. My nerves were shot, so I had a small salad for dinner, thinking that it would help me to sleep better with less food in my stomach. Upon waking Sunday morning, I dragged myself out of bed at 6am and had a small smoothie. I hadn't slept much and my stomach was in knots.
The camera crew attracted quite a lot of attention as I walked around the registration tent and said hello to other racers that I knew. There were pointed fingers, whispers, and the usual comments about the "raw food guy" as I passed. Many people had seen my video of last year's race online, and quite a few had even browsed around my site. The race director, Bob Teschek had given permission to the camera crew to film the race, and he had spilled the beans to many of the participants that they might be on TV. A few people that I knew only as acquaintances, greeted me like old friends in front of the cameras, offering hugs and well wishes. It was all quite unsettling.
Dave Dunham invited me to do a warmup with the Central Mass. Striders, 45 minutes before the start, but we were in the middle of filming, so I declined. I was hoping that we'd be done in a minute so I could get a good warmup. Before I knew it, there were only 10 minutes remaining till the start and I was still blabbing away on camera.
I hurried to the start line and worked my way into position near the front. The cameraman approached me and told me to get on the front line. I informed him that I didn't plan to start that fast and was going to let the rabbits get out quickly. He told me that it will look much better on camera if I'm in the front line. So I worked my way up and took position. A few of the other racers shot me looks. Yeah, yeah... not only I am the freaky raw food guy, but now I think I'm somebody special.
The race director approached the crowd to give us our instructions, which were quite sparse. "Relax, there is only one hill", he said and the crowd laughed. Next he informed us that we were to begin at the sound of the cannon. I thought nothing of it. Then moments later a CANNON went off and I jumped backwards instead of forward. I think I might have let out a little squeak at the same time, which was caught on the mic wired to my chest. As it turns out, the cameraman was standing right next to the cannon when it went off and he jumped farther than I did... I can't wait to see that footage.
With Dave Dunham as my pacer, I set off to a comfortable pace. We were about 30 seconds behind the lead pack at the mile and feeling comfortable, but I was going quite a bit faster than I had intended. This race is not won in the first few miles, but in the last few, where it feels like the whole World is crashing down on you. My goal time for the race was an hour and nine minutes, which was an average pace of 9 minute miles. We were under 8 minutes for the first mile, which was too fast. All the guys I had hoped to be close to in the race were either right in front of or right behind me, so I kept the pace. Mile 2 was an 8:16, still too fast. When I hit mile 3, something didn't feel right. I couldn't place the feeling, but I knew that something was wrong. At the half way point, I had slowed down, hoping to regain my strength, but it didn't work. Mile 4 was even slower than 3. Thirteen people passed me. I slowed down even more, hoping for a second wind in the later stages of the race. Mile 5 took forever. My legs were extremely weak, and I was becoming light headed and nauseous. Over 25 people had passed me. Mile 6 had me seriously considering dropping out of the race. I could barely move my legs. I was now walking 50% of the time, and my run looked more like a shuffle. 40 more people passed. My head was swimming as I worked toward my seventh mile. The pain in my legs was so severe that I could barely take 5 steps without needing to stop. It was difficult to focus my eyes, and my mind's eye didn't feel like it was attached to my body anymore. I was floating. There were points where I'd stop and just stand in the middle of the road, not knowing how I was going to take another step. Mile 7 clicked by like a dream. A bad dream. Spectators were beginning to appear along the road. There was only six tenths of a mile to go. To me that seemed like a thousand miles. I honestly didn't think I could make it. Then I remembered something. I was being filmed. This race was going to be on national TV.
DNF next to someone's name on a result sheet usually signifies Did Not Finish. But America was watching and if there was going to be any DNF next to my name it was going to stand for Did Not Fail.
I somehow managed to turn my wobbly walk into a hurried hobble. Somewhere in this dream state, my name was being called. Over and over again it rang out "go tim!". It took me a while to realize that a man was standing on the side of the road cheering for me. I stared at him as I slowly moved by, I wasn't sure who he was until I was about 5 feet away. My brain suddenly awoke to the realization that this was Sean, one of my friends and former students. I wondered what he was doing there as I stumbled past. The next four tenths of a mile are a blank. I became conscious again on a very steep section lined with screaming people. Someone had spanked me in the butt as they went by. It was another friend and former student of mine Mike. He said "come on Tim!" and tried to pull me along. I looked up and realized that I was only 50 meters away from the finish line. I could see the camera ahead filming me. I was embarrassed, mortified, defeated. I dragged myself as quickly as possible to the finish line where I collapsed into the arms of two EMT's who had seen me coming and jumped into action. They kept asking me questions, like "What's your name?", over and over again. Then they injected me with glucose. My eyes rolled back into my head and I collapsed into their arms. The camera caught it all, and there was nothing I could do about it. I looked like a fool. A shining example to America that raw food does NOT work for extreme athletic endeavor. At least that's what I thought they would be thinking when editing the story. It turns out that I had a pretty serious case of hypoglycemia. I had not eaten enough the day before or morning of. I had made a fatal error.
The next day, while preparing a huge raw feast for my family and friends (also to be filmed), the producers of the show told me not to worry about the disastrous results of the day before, they said it will make a great ending for "act II" of the show. Let's just hope that the hero in this story can rise up in act III.
As the Mt. Washington race looms ominously on the horizon only two weeks away, I've been a bit nervous about my readiness for the event. Although I have been training more these last few months than at any time during this journey, my legs just haven't felt fresh and fast in quite some time. Both the Wachusett Mtn. and Whiteface Mtn. races left me feeling less than prepared as my legs gave out in both races long before my lungs did. Perhaps it's a factor of my heavy training load combined with the lack of tapering in my training leading up to these races. Whatever the case, I was excited to test my mettle against New England's best at Northfield Mountain. Dave Dunham invited me down the day before the race to help him mark the course. I saw it as an opportunity to familiarize myself with the terrain and get a little home field advantage.
On a short warmup with Dave, he pointed out all the hotshot runners that were in attendance. There was Mark Miller who has run a 14:00 5k earlier this year, Ryan Carrara who won the Wachusett Mtn. Race two weeks prior and was second at the New Bedford Half Marathon in a time of 1:08:07. Josh Ferenc, a 30:00 10k runner and 3rd place finisher at last year's US Mtn. Running Championships. Erik Nedeau a sub 4 minute miler... yeah, you heard right. Justin Fyffe 2nd place at the Pack Monadnock 10 miler. Ben Nephew, one of the top trail and mountain runners in New England for the past 10 years. Greg Hammett, a former college standout who is still laying down some very fast times. Jim Pawlicki, 2nd place at the XTERRA Merrimack River Trail Race. Todd Callaghan, one of New England's best and most consistent trail runners. Jason Bryant from the mountains of North Carolina, who is one of the top mountain runners in the country and a member of the La Sportiva team. Then of course there is Dave himself, who is now one of the nation's top masters racers.
For those of you that follow my blogs and videos regularly, you might have noticed that I have a tendency to go out too hard in most races and then pay the price later on. This is not a habit that I want to continue, so when the gun sounded I let the lead pack take off. I have been logging heart rate data for all my races over the past two years and have noticed a trend: If I get my heart rate into the 170's in the first half mile I will have poor results, but if I can keep my heart rate in the mid to high 160's I will avoid bonking later in the race. So when Dave Dunham pulled up next to me in the first quarter mile (Dave is my barometer for proper race pacing), I looked at my watch and saw that I was in the low 160's. This was a perfect start for me and I even had some room to speed up if I wanted to... and I did.
At the half mile point I made a move on Ben Nephew and Jim Pawlicki (both great mountain runners, whom I've never beaten), and quickly gapped them. When I hit the one mile mark, my watch read 5:25, which is fast for the first mile of a 10.3k mountain race, but my heart rate was only at 168. I was feeling good. The course began to climb more substantially in the second mile, but I kept a swift pace and passed two more runners. Although the leaders, Mark Miller and Ryan Carrara were moving farther ahead with every step, I was gaining ground on the other racers in front of me.
My watch read 6:14 at the 2 mile mark. A moment later, my heart rate read 176 as I pulled up alongside Josh Ferenc. I was surprised that he had fallen away from the leaders, and even more surprised that I was now running at his side and about to pass him. We hit a very steep climb at around 2.5 miles and Josh had had enough of my brazenness and picked up the pace. I didn't want to risk redlining, so I let him go. Greg Hammett was not far ahead and I set my sights on catching up to him on the climb.
The 3rd mile was the hardest, with several hundred of feet of climbing coming in waves of steep ascents. Even though my heart rate was a perfect 176 and my breathing was quite relaxed, my legs were beginning to tire. I clocked 7:34 for the 3rd mile and was 10 seconds behind Greg and now 20 behind Josh. The final .7 miles of climbing were more than I could comfortably handle. My legs were now complaining loudly and my pace was slowing. Greg and Josh were moving farther ahead and I could hear Jim Pawlicki and Todd Callaghan moving up on me.
My goal for this race was to make it to the top of the mountain in a good position (which I had done), and then take advantage of my crazy downhill running skills for the remainder of the race to make up ground on a few of the runners in front of me. As I headed towards the 4 mile mark I was moving quickly, but on wobbly legs and Jim and Todd were rapidly closing in on me. Even though we had reached the top of the mountain, there were a few more ups to accompany the downs in the final 2.7 miles.
My legs were feeling better as began the 5th mile. Greg Hammett was now far enough ahead that I could no longer see him, and Todd was right on my heels, with Jim not far behind. I let loose on the downhill, and invited gravity to take my body down the mountain at a reckless speed. The trail was smooth dirt so I wasn't worried about tripping on rocks or roots. Todd was matching my stride, so I leaned forward and amped it up another notch. I could feel the toll that the quad shredding downhill pace was having on my legs, I hoped I would have enough for the last few uphills before the finish. I clocked 4:45 for mile 5.
With 3/4 of a mile to go we came out of the woods and began to run down the power lines. In the distance I could now see Ryan Cararra and Mark Miller fighting it out for the lead, Erik Nedeau solidly in 3rd place, Justin Fyffe in 4th, Josh Ferenc in 5th, and surprisingly Greg Hammett a lot closer to me than I thought in 6th. We had made up a lot of ground on him on the steep downhills. The power lines featured lots of rolling ups and downs where one could accelerate, which is what I did. I wanted to catch Greg, and I was going to lay it all on the line to do so. Todd had his sights set on me and shot past me on one of the short ups. I then passed him on the next down. This cat and mouse game went on for half a mile as we switched positions and pushed each other along.
When we hit 6 miles we were at the bottom of a steep hill that rose some 30+ feet. From my memory of the course the day before, this was the final uphill before the gradual downhill to the finish. I was determined to catch Greg, so I rocketed up the hill leaving Todd quickly behind. I moved within 10 yards of Greg as I summited the hill, but I was not greeted with a friendly view from the top. One hundred meters away lie the last hill of the race, and it was longer and steeper than the hill I had just spent my last drops of glycogen on. I was broken. My pace slowed, my stomach turned, and my legs wobbled. Todd quickly caught me and moved by. Greg was moving farther ahead now as well, and my chances of reeling him in were gone. I crested the hill and did my best to keep a strong pace to the line. Somehow I managed to stay within 3 seconds of Todd at the finish. I crossed in 8th place in a time of 38:25. More importantly, I had won the title of New England Trail Running Champion in the Master's division and as Dave Dumham informed me a bit later, I had broken the master's course record by an amazing 57 seconds. I can't wait to see what I can do on fresh legs at the National Championships on Mt. Washington.
See the video for the Northfield Mountain Race HERE.
Although it had only been 3 days since my race up Whiteface Mtn., When Josh Merlis of the Albany Running Exchange invited me check out a trail race in the Catskill Mountains of New York I couldn't say no. Growing up in Southern Vermont, the Catskills had always held a magical lure for me. It was the place of legends. The headless horseman of Sleepy Hollow, Rip Van Winkle, The Mohawk Indians and many others. This area is only an hour and a half from my childhood home, but I had never spent any time there.
It was also an opportunity to meet ultra running legend Dick Vincent, who was hosting the race at his house atop a cliff overlooking the Hudson River Valley. Dick is also the director of the infamous Escarpment Trail Run which is reputed to be one of the most dangerous and challenging races in the U.S.
As we all stood there bouncing around at the start receiving our directions, the race director informed us that this was black bear habitat and that we should be on the lookout to avoid close encounters. The racer to my left informed me that they had seen two bears at the very start of the race last year.
I decided to bring a camera along in the race to document the challenging nature of the course, and perhaps catch a bear in action. When the starter yelled "go" I took a mid-pack position and filmed the racers around me as we got underway. After a few minutes I picked up the pace. Josh had informed me that the course climbed over 1,300 feet in 2.25 miles, but the first 3/4 of a mile was relatively flat, meaning that the bulk of the climb would take place in 1.5 miles - a much steeper climb than I had anticipated.
The trail was a narrow single track over slippery rocks and wet leaves. Every step was treacherous. Fallen logs across the trail made the going even more dangerous. I was pushing the pace hard, using this race as a hard effort in attempt to peak for Mt. Washington in a few weeks time.
As I neared the summit I could see someone moving on the trail ahead of me. I thought they must be trying to beat me to the finish to take pictures. I was surprised at how quickly they were moving as my best effort could not catch them. It wasn't until I burst onto the summit finding myself all alone that I realized that the person dressed in black, was no person at all, but a black bear that I had been chasing for two hundred meters.
I caught my breath standing on a cliff overlooking the valley below. The view of the Catskills and the Hudson Valley were breathtaking. It had been quite some time that I had been standing there and yet no one else had come to the finish yet. For a moment I thought I must have taken a wrong turn and was now lost. Eventually, the next runner came in, and then another and another. We all sat around sharing trail stories and taking turns sitting in the giant stone chairs that someone had carefully made near the cliff's edge many years ago.
Upon returning to Dick Vincent's house for post race refreshments and awards I was informed that I had broken the course record. Next year I'll have to take the start more seriously and leave the camera behind.
Dick's announcement of my course record, and my Running Raw jacket brought an onslaught of questions. I was more than happy to share my experience with raw foods. As it turned out, a few people in attendance had tried a raw diet, and there were a few vegans on hand as well. Overall, the crowd was quite receptive to my sharing. Even Josh Merlis became a little curious on the ride home.
When the van arrived back in Albany, I took Josh shopping for an evening snack. He told me that he had never shopped in the produce aisle before. Well, it wasn't long before I had him eating guacamole and carrot sticks, chased down by some grapes and nectarines... baby steps, baby steps.
See the video for the High Rock Race HERE.
June 1st was a busy day for racing in the Northeast. Among the numerous events being contested were the New England 5k Road Championships in Rhode Island, the Pack Monadnock 10 miler (the 2nd race in the LaSportiva Mtn. Cup Series) in New Hampshire and the Whiteface Mtn. Uphill Foot Race in New York. I wanted to do all three, but I haven't yet mastered the art of co-location so I had to chose. After consulting with my friend and "mentor" Dave Dunham, I decided to head to the Adirondacks of NY to race up Whiteface. Dave told me that this race would be great preparation for Mt. Washington. Whiteface is an 8 mile race, whereas Mt. Washington is 7.6 miles. Whiteface has a constant grade of 8% climb, and Washington averages 11% grade. The Whiteface race has been described as a medium Mt. Washington. This race would be more a test of my mental readiness for the big W than of my physical readiness. Last year at the Mt. Washington race I started way too fast and was crumpled in a vomiting heap by the 3rd mile. Mountain races are very different than regular road races; a pace that seems comfortable for the first mile can ruin you by the second mile. It's about pacing, patience and staying far away from redlining. Then there's the issue of pain management, you can't forget that part - are you tough enough to endure intense, unending pain for an hour or more? Whiteface was my chance to find out.
The day before the race, I drove to Montreal to pick up Tera Warner, my new partner in the Running Raw Project. For those of you that don't know Tera yet, she is a voice for empowering women with raw foods on her site www.therawdivas.com. But more importantly she is a ball of red-headed energy that would cheer me on and film me as I came across the finish line.
Whiteface Mountain, in Wilmington, NY is 4,867' high, ranking it as the 5th highest mountain in New York State. The mountain gained international fame in 1980 when it hosted the alpine skiing events of the Winter Olympics in Lake Placid, NY. So it is only fitting that for the last few years, this race has been dominated by 2 time Olympian Duncan Douglas. Duncan has been one of the top athletes in the US for cross country skiing and biathlon since the late 80's and has won numerous national championships. He's as tough as they get, and this was his home turf.
The field of athletes assembled on the starting line was intimidating. There were many top athletes from around the Northeast. Also of note on the line was 2 time Olympic Marathon trials qualifier Mike Slinskey. Mike's PR for the marathon is 2:15.
From the start line we could see dark ominous clouds enveloping the summit several thousand feet above us. It could get real nasty up there and I was concerned about what we might face above tree line.
The first mile found Duncan, Mike and myself all running comfortably at 7:30/mile pace and leaving the rest of the pack behind. The next two miles found the three of us pulling even farther ahead. I was feeling good. My heart rate was low and my breathing was comfortable, so I decided to make a move. Duncan matched my move and then some. He picked up the pace significantly. It was more than I was willing to commit to at this early stage so I let him pull away. Mike was drifting farther back. I thought Duncan might eventually tire of the new pace and I'd reel him in, so I stayed where I was in a solid second place slot.
There is a saying about the best laid plans... well, my legs had other plans for me on this day. Somewhere around the mile 5 mark, they gave out. Even though my heart rate and breathing were still comfortable, my legs had just had enough. I struggled to keep the pace for another half mile and then backed off. By mile 6 Duncan had moved well ahead, there was no catching him. The temperature had dropped quite a bit and I was getting cold. The wind was picking up. My legs were getting weaker and weaker with each step. Mile 7 came much too slowly and brought with it the sound of Mike Slinskey's feet pattering the pavement right behind me. As he passed we introduced each other and shared a moment to talk about the intense wind that was picking up and how cold it was getting. Then he pulled away. I tried to stay with him, but he was edging ever so slowly ahead of me and there was nothing I could do about it.
With half a mile to go the wind above tree line was blowing so intensely (50mph gusts) that I felt like I was being pushed backwards and making no progress at all. The temperature had plummeted into the 30's and my hands were stinging cold. My back began to spasm from the cold as well. Mike had disappeared into the fog ahead of me. It was the detoughest, coldest, longest half mile I've ever run. Then out of the fog a finish line appeared, and cheers could be heard above the screeching of the wind. I was done.
As I warmed myself and re-fueled in the stone castle on top of the mountain, I could see Duncan, outside on the summit platform still in his wet race t-shirt embracing the wind. There are few like him in the world.
My main source of post race fuel was a HUGE bag of sprouted buckwheat granola that I had made the day before. When Duncan came in from the cold I offered some to him. He was skeptical at first, but quickly found it to his liking. After a long conversation with him about diet and performance, I looked down to see that the bag was empty. Perhaps I've planted another seed.
I was not the only one on the mountain today spreading the word of raw power. Lauren Warren (who I've blogged about before) finished 2nd in the women's field and helped to solidify the raw vegan presence at this event.
As we all sat around talking about our trials on the mountain, Tera whipped out a box of her homemade chocolate lime balls... wow!! They were a hit... you'll have to go to her site and get the recipe.
Reflecting on the race on the drive home, I'm not sure what caused the weakness in my legs. Was it lack of mountain training? Improper pre-race fueling? The cold? Or just a bad day. Whatever the case, I hope I can address the situation before Mt. Washington arrives. To lose my legs there would be disastrous.
See the video for the Whiteface Mountain Race HERE.
And you can access interviews with Lauren and myself HERE
5/04/08 The Bennington Road Race
Although I cannot remember the bulk of my life (a result of years of depression perhaps) there are a few conversations that have stayed in my memory as clearly as the day they occurred. One such dialog took place at a high school track meet in 1984. My coach Steve Zemianek took me aside after a race and in a stern tone uttered the question; "Van Orden, when are you going to get serious?". It wasn't that I had done poorly in the race that caused him to single me out, but the opposite. I had done done quite well and really surprised him. He saw potential in me and challenged me to rise up to meet it. Coach Zem remains one of the most inspirational figures of my life. Were he alive today he might see that 24 years after he uttered those immortal words, I've finally gotten serious.
One of Zem's great legacies in my home town of Bennington, VT is the annual Bennington Road Race, held on the first Sunday of May. The race is a celebration of the end of a long Vermont winter and the beginning of a lush and vibrant spring. For over three decades this race has attracted many of the best runners in the northeast who want to challenge themselves on one of the prettiest courses anywhere in the U.S. Since his passing in 2000, the race has been held in honor of coach Zem to remember and celebrate his contributions to the thriving running community in Bennington. Three of my team mates on Zem's miracle team in the mid 80's have gone on to great national and international success. Dave Jareckie competed in the 1992 and 1994 Olympics, Lincoln DeWitt competed in the 2002 Olympics and Chris Lundy has competed in two Olympic trials (including 2008) and has been on many national teams competing at the world championships. Then there's me. I guess it took a lot longer for Zem's advice and coaching to sink in, but it has, and I'm grateful.
It was 5:15AM when I awoke Sunday morning on the 4th of May 2008. I was 40 years old. The previous two nights and days had been spent "partying" and celebrating my 40th birthday in New York City with the amazing raw community there. The "thin mint sundae" that I had consumed at 11:00PM at Pure Food and Wine the night before was doing the cha cha in my intestines, and my groggy eyes did not want to open. It's a 3 hour drive from New York City to Bennington so I figured that we would have to leave at 5:30 in order to make it to the race. The first race of my 40's. The first race for me to show my hometown just how serious I had become.
The Bennington Banner, the local newspaper, had come to my house a week earlier to do a story on the Running Raw Project. I was very surprised when they had called me, as Bennington is a very conservative town (by Vermont standards). The reporter wanted to do a run with me and then film me making some food. I had thought that it might end up as a little blurb in the sports section of the paper but it turned out to be front page news, and consumed almost all of the print real estate on page one. I was shocked, and I must say a little embarrassed, but at the same time grateful that I had been given such a large voice in my community. This issue of the paper came out just a few days before the race, and I was hoping that the race would be a great opportunity to demonstrate the power of a simple raw diet to my community.
When I arrived at the race, which takes place on the grounds of the former Governor's mansion (now a park), there were smiling familiar faces everywhere. I have spent the vast majority of my 6 months in VT running alone in the woods or working at home on the computer. My interaction with the community has been minimal and this grand celebration of spring and sprint felt like my "coming out" party. I was worried that I might be perceived as a freak after the article in the paper ran, but the cheerful greetings and questions that I was being bombarded with told a different story. Aside from the usual questions about protein, calories and "what do you eat?", the general consensus among my inquisitors was that it made sense. Vermonters are very practical people and can appreciate the benefits of eating a simple more natural diet.
Race psychology is a strange phenomenon. As I warmed up and shared greetings with friends and runners from years gone by, my mind was still focused on that thin mint sundae, my lack of sleep for the two previous nights, and the cramped quarters on the drive up from the city that morning. The outer calm that I displayed was in direct contrast to the fear that I was going to look like a fool in front of my hometown crowd. My brain told me that they were expecting big things from the raw vegan bold enough to be a front page news story. The pressure was intense. Had the race been held elsewhere I might have choked, but the bright green tunnel formed by the stately old maple trees lining the dirt road and the perfectly placed stones of the old stone wall in between the trees touched a relaxing chord somewhere deeper in me. This was home, I was safe. But more importantly I was running to honor coach Zem, not for my own personal ego.
As the race began I found myself immediately in the lead and feeling surprisingly swift. After a few hundred meters a man pulled up to my side. I said hello and we began to converse. His name was Greg and he worked as a registered nurse at the local hospital. I could feel that it was a quick pace, but Greg seemed comfortable and I was excited not to be running alone. The conversation was still going strong as we hit the first mile in 4:50. Ahead of us stretched a quarter mile long hill that climbed quite steeply. I kept the pace going strong as I charged up the hill, Greg could not maintain the pace and fell back. I offered a "good luck" and ended the conversation. I would run alone until the finish. The clock read 19:50 as I broke the tape and crossed the line. It would be the first time that a local runner had broken the 20 minute mark on this hilly 3.8 mile course. Congratulations poured in accompanied with comments about my diet. One woman offered "Whatever it is that you are eating, it seems to be working". The day continued with many wonderful conversations with friends old and new. I can only hope that a seed has been planted in the town of Bennington, VT, and I can't wait to see how it grows in the times to come.
This is the story that appeared in the Bennington Banner the following day: http://www.benningtonbanner.com/ci_9156067
Click HERE to see the Video.
4/27/08 Kids for Kids 5k
Although the 62 storey Aon Center race was a grueling affair, it only lasted a little over 8 minutes. Since I don't have a coach, I find it hard to push myself to the limit on my own, so I do a race as my hard workout for the week. So the following day I went hunting for a fast 5k to compete in. One of the things I love about L.A. is the abundance of races every weekend throughout the year. With plenty of races to choose from I picked a celebrity studded 5k in Century City (L.A.'s other downtown, adjacent to Beverly Hills).
At 9:50AM it was already 86 degrees and climbing. I don't do well in the heat and there was not a spot of shade anywhere on this hilly course, so I reminded myself that this was only a workout and not a race to be taken seriously. As I warmed up I felt surprisingly light and swift considering I had raced up a building the day before. Many of the top local latino racers were on hand and it was intimidating to watch them do their warmup strides. I was certain they would dominate this race.
This event was a fundraiser for the Children's Cancer Research Fund, so naturally there were a LOT of children gathering at the start line. I stepped right to the line to get a good position and not trample any children, but i was quickly standing in the 10th row as children began to amass in front of me and the start line. The race organizers asked the children to step back to the line, but they did no such thing. They were caught up in the moment and the fun of getting to run a race. For a brief moment I remembered when I used to think racing was fun. But those days are long gone, for it's serious business now. I laughed at myself on the inside and looked to the other "elite" runners standing next to me on the line in the same perdicament. They smiled and shrugged their shoulders as if to say "they're kids, what are you going to do?". One of the men recognized me and told another man next to him that I was the one to beat. I was surprised by this and told him that there were many runners in the line that looked faster than me. He smiled at me and said "no, no, I know who you are". I was a little embarrassed, I didn't know what that meant, so I just looked away.
Moments before the gun went off I was scanning the crowd of children gathered in front of me trying to ascertain the best route through without hurting anyone. When I couldn't find one, I just resigned myself to a very relaxed, slow start and decided to have fun running with the kids for the first 100 meters. Bang. We were off. Children swarming and swerving everywhere in front of me. I must have looked like a ballerina as I bounced and dodged about trying to avoid them. If felt good not to burst off the line. I wasn't nervous, I was relaxed. Two hundred meters later I had moved beyond the mass of screaming joy and calmly set to getting my race on. Many of the other top runners had gotten through the crowd much faster and they were quite a ways ahead. I was about 20 places behind.
With calm precision I made a slight adjustment to my pace and slowly started to reel in the runners in front of me. Half a mile into the race and I had taken the lead. I didn't notice the heat, only that I felt very smooth and the pace seemed effortless. We weaved through the skyscraper clad streets often looping back on ourselves offering a view of all the runners behind us. It was fun to acknowledge the other racers as I went by, it made the effort even less noticeable. At one mile only one runner remained with me. It was one of the latino speed demons that I had seen warming up before the race. He was lean and efficient and not breathing very hard. Mile two came quickly and the man at my side was still there, but the rest of the runners were now far behind. We came to a hill and I picked up the pace, my opponent's footsteps could be heard trailing off behind me, so I picked it up even more. Despite the increase in speed the pace was still comfortable and I cruised the last mile increasing my lead the entire time. I was very surprised when I came across the line and saw that I had just run my fastest 5k ever. How could that be possible? I had a run a grueling tower race the day before, it was 86 degrees, I still had plenty of gas in the tank and I lost at least 20 seconds in the start. A flood of elation poured over me, I was in much better shape than I thought, and my goals for the year were not as far away as I had feared.
After being swarmed by kids and other runners wanting to congratulate me and get training advice from me (as you can imagine, my advice was primarily about diet), I did a short interview for the local KTLA news. Hopefully at least one person gets to see it and makes a change because of it. This one was for the children.
4/26/08 Aon Center Stair Climb
For the first time in more than 10 years I found myself a visitor rather than a resident of the great city of Los Angeles. Mark Trahanovsky and his company, West Coast Labels had generously offered to fly me out to L.A. to compete in the final tower race of the season - a 62 storey, 858 foot climb to the top of the Aon Center. This race is the second in the successful Climb California series, which raises money for the American Lung Association.
Being the last race of the season (tower racing season starts in October and ends in April for some odd reason), I knew that the competition would be intense. The best stair runners in the country would all want to mark the end of their season with a victory in L.A.
Among the elite field were 2006 Sears Tower winner Jesse Berg out of Chicago and 2006 US Bank Tower winner Tommy Coleman ouf of Cardiff, CA. These men placed 6th and 5th respectively at the unofficial world stair climbing championships at the Empire State Building and are considered the best stair racers in the country. This was going to be a great race.
I met Mark Trahanovsky at a 5k race in Los Angeles in the early spring of 2007. We had talked briefly about the Running Raw Project and went our separate ways. Mark became very interested in Running Raw and became a regular visitor to the site. After a very extensive knee surgery last year, Mark was told that he would not be able to run again. That's when he read about my knee injuries and how I got into tower racing as a way to train while injured. Mark also discovered that he had little to no knee pain when going up stairs and began to train for his first stair race at the US Bank Tower in October of 2007. Well, Mark is now hooked. He's done 7 tower races around the country in the short time since October and is on the board of directors for the Climb California race up the Aon Center. Mark wanted this inaugural race to be a big success, so he brought in the best racers, inspired local TV personalities to race and did a great job of advertising the event. It was an action packed adventure for sure. Mark also set me up with a pair of Vibram 5 Fingers for the race. If you've never seen these shoes, you have to check them out. Wearing them is like being barefoot without the worry of something sharp puncturing your foot. http://www.vibramfivefingers.com/.
During my warmup I bumped into Tommy Coleman and Jesse Berg. We shared a few words and wished each other luck. Tommy had mentioned to me that we had to arrange our starting lineup so that the three of us were not near each other in the stairwell. He didn't want one of us breathing down his neck and he didn't want to try and catch one of us in front of him and ruin his pace. I agreed. I wanted to run my own race and not be focused on another. In a tower race, if you start too quickly, your race is over long before you ever reach the top. Once your legs begin to fail there is no recovering and your race quickly falls apart. Tommy was to go first, with Jesse 20 seconds behind him and me 20 seconds behind Jesse. Which should have been enough time for us not to see each other in the stairs considering our similar abilities.
As we lined up, other racers commented on Tommy's brand new Nike Mayflys and my bright red Vibram 5 Fingers, both of which I would highly recommend for the sport of tower racing. When the horn sounded, Tommy burst through the door as the first competitor in the stair well. Racers were going off every 10 seconds, with times being calculated by timing chips attached to our shoes. Jesse was third into the tower, I was a nervous 5th. My friend Jeff Dinkin, who I met while training for the US Bank Tower race this past September started right before Jesse, but his chances of doing well were stripped away in a pretty severe bike accident the week before. Jeff was to do the entire race using only his legs, as a dislocated shoulder and severe road rash prevented him from pulling on the railings.
I entered the stairwell like a rocket. It was not an all out sprint, but I was moving pretty quickly. My recent stair climb successes and my increase in training and fitness prompted me to put the hammer down early and see how long I could sustain the pace. It only took a few floors to catch the racer that had started 10 seconds in front of me. In another 10 floors I caught up to Jeff, who was feeling the effort of his leg only venture. We shared some words of encouragement and I hammered on to catch up to the footsteps I could hear just a floor above me. The sign on the door read "20th Floor" when I caught up to the next racer. He was moving at a decent pace so I tucked in behind him for a moment before attempting to overtake him. As I looked up to make my move I noticed that the racer I was about to pass was none other than Jesse Berg. A bolt of fear shot through my body, my stomach turned and I could feel my face redden. I had made up 20 seconds on the 6th fastest stair climber in the world in only 20 floors. I was going WAY TOO FAST. Well, that's the thought that shot through my head and initiated the fear cycle that was now cascading through my body. I decided to just latch on to Jesse and hold on to the top. That strategy had worked for me this fall when I beat Jesse by 3 seconds at the US Bank Tower (the only time I've beaten him), but I didn't make up a 20 second gap in that race. If I could stay with him to the top I would beat him by a huge 20 second margin.
The floors flew by despite the fact that they were the tallest floors of any building I've run in. Jesse had picked up the pace when I had latched onto him. He had probably thought (as I did) that I had gone out way to fast, and that if he picked up the pace he could exhaust me and lose me. When we reached the 52nd floor, an exhausted Jesse put the hammer down and picked up the pace for the final 10 floors. I tried to stay with him, but I was done. Jesse quickly moved ahead of me. I could only hope that he didn't have enough in him to make up the 20 second gap in 10 floors. I reached the 61st floor and made my best effort to "sprint" the final floor knowing full well that my body could barely move at this point. When I hit the 62nd floor I looked for the finish line, but there was none. We were to finish on the roof. Even though this building technically only has 62 floors, the roof would be considered the 63rd floor. Those last two flights of stairs took forever. I had already given everything I had and now I felt cheated by this extra floor. Dejected and beaten, I walked up the final flight of stairs and walked across the finish line. I was spent.
Had I known in the race that I would finish in 2nd place, only 2 seconds behind Tommy Coleman, and 5 seconds ahead of Jesse Berg, I might have treated that last floor differently. Those two seconds were easily given away as I did my walk of defeat up the final floor of the building. Despite the feeling of failure that would later come over me, I was quite pleased to have been 2 seconds behind the legend Tommy Coleman. Not only have I never beaten Tommy in a stair climb, but up until this point I had never been within 40 seconds of him. My performance today was very promising. As this journey continues, I'm learning more and more about training and remaining injury free, both of which are helping me consistently improve even as I age. Running Raw is officially in the big leagues now.
Click HERE to watch the video.
4/12/08 Merrimack Rivah Trail Race
Over the past two years, it has become clear to me that New England is the epicenter of trail running in the United States. This tiny region of the country boasts the greatest number of trail races and the best talent you can find anywhere. Many of the top trail racers in the country call this area home. When the snow finally clears in April, the trail racing season begins. The Xterra Merrimack River (pronounced "Rivah") trail race in Andover, MA signals the beginning of that season. This challenging 10 mile race features scenery second to none, hills to challenge the toughest quads, water, and MUD. Just as the Japanese have a distinct 5th flavor known as "umami", New England has a distinct 5th season - MUD Season. It's impossible to run in New England in April without getting wet and muddy.
Dave Dunham was kind enough to let me stay at his place in Bradford, MA, so that I wouldn't have a 3 hour drive in the morning. Kevin Tilton from North Conway, NH was also staying at the house. They both turn in quite early (unlike myself, who refuses to adopt east coast time), so I found myself in bed by 10pm. I awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of heavy rain on the roof of the house. I'm not a big fan of getting wet while running, so my mind began to spin yarns about the perils that would await in the morning - April showers steal Tim's powers. The rain continued till early morning making the course very soggy and boggy. In one spot, the river had even overflown it's banks, making for a treacherous 20 foot knee deep water crossing.
At the gun, Kevin Tilton jumped right out in front and never let go of his lead. Kevin has been one of the top mountain and trail racers in the country for the last few years, and looks to turn in some very impressive performances this year. I wasn't sure how much endurance I'd have in a 10 mile race with steep climbs, so I settled into 6th place at the start. The 5:20 pace felt good, so I put it in cruise control for the first 3 relatively flat miles. At the beginning of the 4th mile the hills began. After rocketing down the first of the steep downhills we came full speed upon a wooden plank bridge that was leaning to the right. This would have been difficult to negotiate in dry conditions, but the rain had turned the thin film of moss and algae that coated the bridge into greased lightning. The first step I took on the bridge had my feet flying out from under me. I was horizontal in the air before i crashed down hard on my knees on the bridge, then bounced backward into the rocky stream 3 feet below. The intense pain filled me with rage as I scrambled out of the brook and back onto the trail. My knees began to lock up almost immediately from the pounding they had just taken. I didn't think I could finish the race in this condition, I could barely move my legs. A runner quickly caught me and overtook me. As he passed he said, "That must have hurt. Don't give up, keep going". I did my best to chase after him, but my legs were not cooperating anymore. I stumbled up the next hill as best I could, my knees were beginning to free up, but the pain was not subsiding. We came to another steep rocky downhill (my forté) and I let loose. It probably wasn't the smartest choice, but I seldom make those choices. Within 30 seconds of the decline, I passed the runner that had passed me after the fall. As I went by he exclaimed, "Wow! Way to get back in there!". I was not giving up on this one. My anger fueled me for the next two miles as we climbed several quad thrashing 30 to 40 percent slopes.
When I had reached the 5 mile turnaround point, I was relaxed and finding my rhythm again. I had made some good distance on the runners behind me and I was beginning to make ground on Ben Nephew (3rd place finisher) in front of me. Back over the hills we went. I charged up and down each one with reckless abandon. I still wasn't sure if I had 10 miles of race endurance in me, so I wanted to make up as much ground as I could on the hills before the relatively flat and fast last 3 miles. At long last I found myself descending the last of the steep downhills, it would be relatively easy from this point on. Well, that was until I tripped on a root at the bottom of the downhill and flew shoulder first into a large pine tree. I bounced off and careened face first down the slope. The thumb pad of my right had took the force of my weight as i came down hard on a rock. My knees were again smashed by roots and rocks. Something sharp pierced the soft flesh on my right side. I scrambled up onto my feet with pure adrenaline, the pain was shooting all over my body. I tried to run, but so many things were beginning to lock up and swell that I couldn't make a running stride. A runner flew by me and asked if I was alright. I wasn't sure if I was. Trying to match his pace was an exercise in futility and he quickly disappeared. Shortly thereafter, Dan Verrington (one of the best masters racers in the country) passed me like a rocket, I couldn't keep his pace either. I was watching my race fall apart and there was nothing I could do.
With two miles remaining, another runner passed me, the same gentleman that had passed me after the first fall. I had loosened up a bit and tried to go with him. I still couldn't get a full stride, but I managed to pick up the pace. My last two miles were under six minutes each, but the three runners that had passed were easily outpacing me. I crossed the finish line in 7th place. Although I did not achieve the result that I had hoped for, my time was quite good, and the competition was as good as it gets. I am in much better shape than I had expected. The seven week break from running this winter, hasn't set me back as far as I thought it might. Things are looking up. Let the healing begin.
Click HERE to watch the video.
Planning is not my forté. In fact, I'm pretty darn awful at it. I had intended to compete in the 52 storey Climb California race in San Francisco. Last year I placed second in this event and was eager to come back and demonstrate my new fitness. That didn't work out, so I decided on plan B - the 38 storey Climb Pittsburgh race. Well, that didn't work out either, so I had to settle for plan C - a 22 storey climb at the University of Albany in Albany, NY. Third time's a charm.
At 289 feet, the Livingston Tower is barely a skyscraper and compared to all of the other tower races I've done, this race could be placed in the "spint" catagory. I consider myself more of an endurance athlete, and the height of this building had me concerned. The University of Albany has a top notch athletics program, which meant that this race was going to be packed with top athletes. A short race like this is much more about power and speed (which I feel I'm lacking in) than endurance. Which means that this race could belong to any of a number of people entered. During registration I bumped in David Tromp who narrowly beat me at the 42 storey Climb Albany race a month earlier, and who finished 4 seconds behind me at the Empire State Building race. David is a great athlete and one of the top stair climbers in the country. After assessing the competition in the registration area, I was hoping to be in the top 5.
The race began shortly after a failed attempt by a group of aerobics instructors to get us up warmed up in the freezing 18 degree temps (there was no lobby for us to wait in). David was one of the first through the door. I got held up a little bit at the start by a timing chip confusion, but still managed an early start. It was an all out sprint from the very start. I flew up the first 17 floors without any noticable pain. The theme music from "Rocky" was now filling the stairwell as I hurled myself up the last few floors. With half a flight to go, my legs started to fail, but I had plenty left to finish up and burst through the door. As I wobbled around the room on jellyfish legs, I noticed David doing the same. I approached him and asked him how he did. He said it was over before he knew it and that he'd like to do it again, knowing now how short it was. His time was 1:15. I looked at my watch for the first time, it read 1:13. That pace was more than twice as fast as any building I've run up to date. I knew that I had narrowly nipped David, but there were a lot of great athletes still to come, and a victory was not to be mine yet.
I was a bit frustrated with the timing chip fiasco at the start, so David suggested that we do it again. We ran down a different stairwell and prepared for our second round. This time we would do it head to head. David launched ahead at the start and I tucked in behind. The pace was faster, I could feel it. At the 15th floor David began to slow and offered to let me by. I charged around him and picked up the pace. When we hit the 20th floor my legs began to buckle, so I pulled harder on the railings to take the strain off of my legs. Seconds later I burst through the door, exhausted. David was a few seconds behind me. My watch read 1:11, David's read 1:14. We had both improved.
I felt that I could have gone a bit faster in the beginning, and David wanted another crack at me, so we decided to do it again. After about 10 minutes of rest, we were at the starting line once again, but this time David wanted me to lead. As I've learned numerous times in my life, if you want me to run faster, just put someone on my heels. I launched up the stairs like a man possessed, moving my body as fast as I possibly could. If I could keep up this pace all the way to the top, I could break a minute I thought. Gravity had other plans. When I reached the 17th floor, my legs were done. I mean DONE. I didn't think I'd be able to make the last 5 floors. I hobbled and pulled on the railings with everything I had just to keep moving. With 2 floors remaining, I was walking, and not elegantly. I had given up on getting a good time at this point, but at least I was getting a great workout. Moments later, I stumbled through the door and collapsed on the floor. The race officials and spectators that had been following our repeat climbs thought we were crazy, and just watched as I writhed around in pain. Eventually I hobbled to a chair and sat down with David. He informed me that he had run a 1:13 on the final climb, his fastest yet. That didn't make sense to me, because I must have done it in two minutes and he didn't pass me. When I found out that my final ascent was 1:09 I was shocked. Third time's a charm. Unfortunately, our first ascent was the only one that officially counted, as we would have had to pay additional entry fees to get the 2nd and 3rd ascents entered.
An hour later I was informed that I had won the race and set a new course record. David finished a close second, and third went to Fred Eames of NY in 1:24. Fred has been one of the best stair climbers in the east for over a decade now, and held the course record at the Corning Tower, until David and I broke it a month ago. Fourth place was was quite a ways back in 2:02.
Apparently, all the training that I've been forced to do at the gym has paid off.
The best part of the day for me was hearing that since meeting me at the Corning Tower climb, David and Fred have been spending time on my website learning about a raw vegan diet. Another victory for Running Raw.
Click HERE to see results of the race.
My original intent on traveling to Tampa, FL was to compete in the Climb
Tampa race up the 42 storey US Bank Plaza. As plans for the trip evolved,
the race took back seat to all of the other events that had been planned
for me. The heel injuries that I had sustained two weeks earlier prevented
me from wearing any type of shoes other than flip flops or shower shoes
(sandals with a wide velcro strap fastening just below the toes). This
in turn forced me to take two weeks off from training. So as the race
drew near, I had decided that it would not be in my best interest to
participate.
The thud of a flying kumquat landing on my chest aroused me from sleep.
It was rather late in the morning on the day of the race (the one I wasn't
doing). Clint, my host, had prepared a delicious breakfast of sliced
fruit for us to enjoy. As I groggily shared the locally grown bounty,
we discussed my plans for the day. Clint thought that it might be a good
idea for my sister Merrie and I to head down to the race and hand out
flyers for my talk at the Glass Onion that evening. I agreed.
The race had long since started when we arrived and the excitement in
the air was palpable. The rush of race day energy was now coursing through
my veins. It didn't take long for me to get sucked in. I jogged over
to the registration table, which was packing up and asked if it was too
late to register. After a short pause they said OK, but that I needed
to hurry. The last person was about to head into the stairwell and I
would need to be right behind them. I already had my "Running Raw" gear
on as an advertisement for the talk that night, so all i needed to do
was to take of my jacket and warm up pants and put on my racing shoes
- wait a minute, I can't wear shoes!! I had on my Adidas shower shoes,
which flopped around on my feet as I walked, and ever tenth step I'd
have to scuffle my feet to force my toes closer to the front of the shoes
again. I had no choice. Using safety pins, I attached my timing chip
to the large velcro strap on my left shoe and I dashed into the building.
There was no time for a warmup, there was not even time to get nervous.
As I followed the pink signs which directed me down a long corridor into
the basement of the building, I caught up to a fireman wearing 60 pounds
of gear. Seeing him made me relax. In comparison, I had it easy, and
I had nothing to prove today. I was ill prepared and ill equipped and
I was going to have fun for the first time in a stair race.
That lasted for all of 3 floors, and then my competitive engine took
over. My legs felt really stiff, but my lungs felt great. I charged up
the stairs, pulling the railings with all my might. It's only 42 floors
I told myself, as I kept pushing the pace. The shower shoes were light,
breathable, and yeah, they flopped around on my feet and nearly came
off a few times, but they did the job. The intense heat and humidity
(think Florida) in the stairwell actually helped my throat, as the moist
air coated my trachea. When I arrived at the top I was exhausted, but
had none of the usual fear of suffocating from throat closure. My watch
read 5 minutes and 11 seconds, a respectable time under any circumstances.
An hour later when the results were posted, I learned that I had won
the race by over a minute, a huge margin for such a short race. Within
minutes I was approached by a few members of the media. As much as I
tried to guide their attention they were not interested in my diet, they
only wanted to know about the shoes.
This race makes me reflect on a statement that many of us uttered as
children while playing hide and go seek: "Ready or not, here I come!".
I had always seen that phrase in terms of the hider's preparation, but
now I have a different perspective. There will be no more excuses or
reasons for not doing, there will only be doing. Whether I'M ready or
not, here I come.
Click HERE to watch the Video.
In the 3 months that I've been in Vermont, I've done very little exploring
in the state. So when a qualifier for the US Snowshoe Championships was
scheduled for Smugglers Notch Ski Area in northern Vermont, I thought
this would be a great opportunity to get reacquainted with my home state.
After a few hours of pretty treacherous winter driving, I arrived at
the Smugglers Notch Nordic Center where I was greeted once again by Eddie
Habeck (see previous post). We chatted for a bit, and then it was time
for me to borrow some snowshoes for the race. You see, I don't actually
own snowshoes. In all of the previous races I've done this year, I have
borrowed shoes from either Bob Dion of Dion Snowshoes or from Dave Dunham's
personal stash. Neither Bob nor Dave were at this event. A new snowshoe
company located in Vermont, called TSL was doing a little demo at the
race, so I approached them and asked if I could borrow a pair for the
race. They were kind enough to oblige me. The first pair they gave me
were made of a very lightweight composite plastic with a unique binding
system that involved a sliding plate that secured your heel to the binding.
Within a few steps the backs of my heels were hurting. So I asked if
they had anything else I could use. They offered me a heavier pair of
aluminum shoes. The second pair of shoes had the same binding system
but didn't hurt nearly as much. I thanked them and ran quickly to the
start line so as not to miss the race.
When I arrived at the start, the race director, Zeke, approached me
and said "you look like you might be in the lead pack, so let me
give you directions for the course". For the next 5 minutes Zeke
outlined no less than 20 intersections, turns and cutoffs. I was terrified,
there was no way I was going to remember all of those directions. So
I chose to remember what I thought were the key elements of Zeke's discourse
- Do Not cross the 3 hemlock branches stuck in the snow of every trail
that you are not to use - except one tricky intersection near the end.
I was thoroughly confused, but hoping that someone else would be leading
and I would just follow them. Aside from the directions, I was concerned
about something else Zeke had mentioned - The first 3 kilometers were
almost entirely UPHILL - climbing 1,700 feet. This was going to hurt.
As I warmed up for a few minutes prior to the start, the backs of my
heels began to hurt. There was no time to change shoes now and I didn't
have any other shoes to use anyways. It was either suck it up or drop
out of the race. I decided to race. The worse that could happen would
be two blisters on the backs of my heels. A little Dr. Scholl's Moleskin
would take care of that and I'd be back to training a day or so after
the race. I only needed to be in the top 10 to qualify for nationals,
so I didn't need to kill myself in the race. Afterall, I had been fighting
a pretty tough cold for the past week and a half, that was only made
worse by the two tower races earlier this week. The decision had been
made - Do only what I needed to do to stay in the top 10 and not hurt
myself or make my illness worse.
The gun went off and I found myself in the lead. I was running very
comfortably though, so I kept up the pace. When I arrived at the first
of the long climbs I charged up at a blistering pace. I wanted to test
my legs and lungs, both of which felt fine when I reached the top. My
lack of training over the past two weeks (due to illness and tapering
for the Empire State Building stair climb), must have allowed my body
the full recovery it needed because I was flying today. Perhaps I've
been overtraining these past few months and didn't even know it. The
backs of my heels were hurting, but I didn't pay any attention to them,
I was too busy enjoying my new level of fitness. The trail turned off
of the cross country ski trail we were on into the woods on a single
track snowshoe trail with about 18 inches of fresh snow in it. It was
tough going, but I wasn't getting tired. Eventually, we looped back onto
a ski trail and began to climb steeply again. This climb lasted over
a kilometer and I flew up without slowing at all. At the summit, I turned
back to see who was behind me. I was stunned, there was no one there.
The trail was visible for at least a quarter of a mile, and there was
no one there. I guessed that I was 2 to 3 minutes ahead of second place
at this point. Even though I still had over a kilometer, and 500 feet
of climbing to go to reach the top of the mountain, I knew I had this
one in the bag. It was going to be my first snowshoe victory, and it
just so happened to be on the longest course (8 kilomoters), with the
toughest climb (1,700 feet), and in the deepest snow (18 inches) that
I have competed in. I was going to prove once and for all that raw food
rocks and was now determined to push even harder and increase my lead
to 5 minutes or more. The pain in my heels didn't even register anymore,
all of my energy was focused on pushing the pace. The last kilometer
of climbing was faster than the previous two. I was running like a man
possessed.
The twists and turns along the spine of the mountain were straight forward
and simple. It wasn't until the last third of the race that things became
fuzzy. Out of nowhere a blizzard engulfed the area and produced white
out conditions. For those of you that live in warmer climes, a "white
out" is a sudden winter storm that produces so much snow that you
can only see white - visibility is reduced to only a few feet in front
of you. I was winding through the woods on a virgin trail when it hit.
The markings on the trees were far enough apart that I couldn't see them
in the white out conditions, so I wandered aimlessly through the trees.
My pace slowed considerably, and I had to zig zag back and forth to try
and find the next trail marker. It took quite some time to get through
this one particular area. I burst out into an open field, the wind was
howling hard and blowing drifts across the trail. The snow was at least
two feet deep at this point and coming down at a rate of 5 inches every
15 minutes. It was extremely difficult to keep up a good pace. Halfway
through the field I passed a sign that read 7 kilometers, I had only
1 K to go. I started my final charge to the finish, I was not yet tired
and wanted to widen my lead if possible. A few hundred meters later I
came to a very confusing intersection. The main ski trail that I was
now on was splitting in two and a single track snowshoe trail was creating
a 3rd tine of the fork to the left. A yellow arrow pointed to what I
thought was the snowshoe trail which was lined with pink tape, but there
were 3 hemlock branches crossing the trail. Perhaps this was the trail
that Zeke had mentioned that I was supposed to cross the bows, I wasn't
sure, but the arrows seemed to be pointing down that trail, and away
from the nicely packed ski trail (well, packed is relative term, the
ski trail had at least 7 inches of new snow on it). I made a quick decision
and headed into the deep snow of the snowshoe trail. The pink tape continued
down the trail and I was confident I had made the correct choice. That
lasted for about 500 meters. The trail I was on was now beginning to
head uphill, and I was certain that I should be seeing the finish line
at the bottom of the hill only a few hundred yards away - it was nowhere
in sight. For a moment I thought of turning around, but I had already
gone to far, so I continued ahead, hoping that I would hit another trail
soon that would take me down to the right and to the finish. Eventually
it came. I barrelled down the trail and quickly reconnected to the main
ski trail that I had gotten off of. I sprinted. The storm was letting
up and the finish line was now visible a short distance away. I was frustrated
and upset and I ran with angry determination straight to the line. Huddled
about the finish were 6 race officials with several inches of snow on
their hats, shoulders, feet and in some cases beards. They looked like
strange snowmen.
After I caught my breath I approached Zeke and told him of the wrong
turn I had made and how confusing the markings were, he apologized and
informed me that I had gone 8.4 kilometers instead of 8, and smiled as
he said "you should be happy you won considering the extra distance,
that's quite an achievement." His attempt at levity had no effect,
I was not happy.
Nearly 5 minutes after I had crossed the line, the second place racer
was making his final charge to the finish. I was stunned. The wrong turn
had eroded my confidence and left me thinking that someone might have
edged me out as they tore down the correct trail to the finish. As the
rest of the field trickled in, one thing was consistently being mentioned
- they had all followed my zig zag tracks through the woods where I was
trying to find the trail, and had all contemplated making the same wrong
turn that I did when they saw my tracks leading that way, but had all
decided not to cross the 3 hemlock bows. I was the lone idiot in the
pack.
I waited for Eddie to finish, congratulated him and began walking with
him to the lodge. That's when I noticed that my heels were really hurting.
Even though we often run through deep snow in a snowshoe race, it is
common practice to wear running shoes. They fit in the bindings much
easier and they are lighter in weight than boots. BUT, your feet get
very wet, cold and numb. After 5 minutes in the lodge, the numbness was
wearing off and my heels began to scream. It was one of those situations
where the pain was so intense that I didn't want to know how much damage
I had inflicted. I was afraid to look. When the pain had increased to
the point that I could no longer walk, Eddie convinced me to take my
shoes and socks off.
In the words of Forrest Gump - "Stupid is as stupid does".
When I peeled back my bloody socks, there were bloody open wounds the
size of half dollars on the back of each heel. What had started as blisters
had worked their way through the entire epidermis all the way down to
the dermis. I had literally worn off the flesh on the backs of my heels.
No amount of moleskin was going to fix this. A nurse on staff at the
center got me a first aid kit and we cleaned, bandaged and wrapped my
heels. Putting my winter boots back on was an ordeal, but driving 4 hours
home in them was nauseating.
Later that night as I was elevating my feet and checking the results
online, I discovered that the man who came in second place (almost 5
minutes behind me) was 15th at the US National Snowshoe Championships
last year. He was no slouch. Interestingly, he was about 4 1/2 minutes
behind the winner and National Champion. Could this be my big break and
a possible shot at a national title? I'm hoping the answer is yes. Let
the healing begin.
Note to self: Next race, wear snowshoes that I'm familiar with.
Click HERE to watch the video.
As a kid growing up in rural Bennington, VT, my first city experience
was in Albany, NY. It was only a 45 minute drive away, but to a farm
kid it was a completely different planet. In the 1970's Albany, the capital
of New York State, was a booming city. The state funded an enormous development
project right in the heart of downtown which is known as the Empire State
Plaza. There are many buildings in the Plaza, but two have stood out
to become symbols of Albany's distinctive skyline: The Egg and the Corning
Tower. The Egg is an oddly shaped building that resembles a flying saucer
in mid flight, it houses a performance arts space. The Corning Tower
at 42 storeys high, is the tallest building in New York State outside
of New York City. I remember making the drive to Albany as a kid and
staring up at the Corning Tower. It just seemed to go up and up forever.
Truth be told, the Empire State Building race really took a toll on
me physically and emotionally. The minor cold that I had experienced
leading up to the race had turned into a full on Nyquil commercial after
the race. The smart thing, was to go back home and rest for 4 or 5 days.
But for those of you who've been following this blog for any length of
time will know, that I seldom do the smart thing. So only two days after
running up the Empire State Building, I found myself coughing and sneezing
on the start line of the Corning Tower race. I mean come on, how could
I pass up a race on my home turf, in my adopted city, in a building that
inspired me as a small child? I just had to do it.
When I arrived at the tower, I was enthusiastically greeted by a man
named Eddie. Eddie had seen me filming at my first snowshoe race in Woodfood,
VT in December and went to my site to find out what I might be doing.
Well, he's been following my journey ever since. The video that I posted
on YouTube of the Empire State Building race start really piqued Eddie's
interest. So when he saw that there was going to be a race not far from
where he lives in NY, he thought he would give it a try. We chatted for
a bit and I gave him some tower racing tips - two steps at at time, always
pull the railings with both hands, don't start out too hard, and take
water at the stops to soothe your throat. A moment later I was again
being greeted by some Running Raw fans. Lauren and Michelle had made
the 45 minute drive from near Kingston, NY to meet me and try their very
first tower race. They both shared their stories of being raw and how
it has affected them (watch the video) and really inspired me to grow
this movement quickly.
This was not a mass start race. Racers were sent off in 5 second intervals
- by number. My number was 142. There was no elite start, which meant
that I was going to be the 142nd person to run through the door and there
were going to be a LOT of people for me to pass. It took a while to get
the race started, so I started running back and forth very quickly in
the long lobby where all the racers were lined up... it was too cold
to run outside. I noticed that I was the only one moving or warming up...
which I thought was very odd... but apparently everyone thought that
I was the odd one for using up energy before the race began. A state
trooper stopped me and said,
"you'd better save your energy son, this is a very tall building.",
I thanked him and smiled and continued to sprint back and forth as everyone
gave me strange looks and commented on my "Powered By Raw Food" running
singlet. I later found out that the man standing next to Lauren had said
about me "that guys gonna get last place if he keeps that up".
It amazes me that people don't understand the critical importance of
a warmup. Especially in a race that requires a very sudden thrust into
a great deal of physical stress. If your body is not warm and your heart
rate elevated prior to the start, the gradient that your body's systems
must travel can have adverse effects on performance and enjoyment of
the race.
At long last it was time for me to start. I jogged off the start line
and took the first few floors at a comfortable pace to let the adrenalin
settle. I did NOT want to repeat my Milwaukee or Empire State Building
Race. After the second floor, I shifted into high gear, strong and steady.
There were a lot of slow people in my path. Most of the time I could
easily get around one or two, but on many occassions they would be two
abreast with someone directly in front of them, so there was no where
for me to get through. I'd call out that I was coming through, but several
people didn't move. So I just had to push my way through. I didn't really
notice the Empire State Building in my legs until the 25th floor, it
was then that I noticed the deep ache of a previous workout or race.
When I hit the 32nd floor, I had only 10 to go. I was feeling very strong,
so i decided to put the hammer down and sprint the last 10 floors. I
managed to get through about 4 at a half sprint as the people started
to pile up on the higher floors. It seems the people get slower and slower
the higher they get in a tower race, and their ability to move out of
the way becomes hampered as well.They are just doing their best to stay
up and keep moving. In a few spots people were sitting down on the landings.
I managed to squeak out some extra speed for a few more floors, and then
I hit the 39th. I was ready to explode up the final 3 floors, but there
were so many people in front of me that I found myself trapped behind
them just waiting and jogging in place and probably saying something
like "OUT OF MY WAY!!". The 42nd floor was the slowest of all
as I was stuck behind 6 people who were on death's door. When we reached
the final landing, I pushed through them and burst down the hall to the
finish. I was frustrated. I looked down at my watch, it read 4:54. The
course record for this building was 5:00. I was even more frustrated,
as I knew I could have put the record way out of reach and made all you
raw vegans proud. But it was a great effort considering the circumstances,
my intense cold and well, running up a building twice as tall two days
earlier.
My new course record was not a new course record. The man who had reserved
bib #1 and had been first through the door had beaten me by 10 seconds,
and set a new course record of 4:44. He is a top local road racer and
had run 5:00 the year before in this race. He really wanted this record,
and it meant a lot to him. So I'm glad he got it. I was happy with second
place, and being one of only two people in 20 years to break the 5 minute
mark on this iconic tower of my youth.
As for Eddie, Lauren and Michelle, they are all hooked. I'll be seeing
them at all the tower races in the North East I'm sure, if not the rest
of the country.
Click HERE to watch the video.
New York was nicknamed the Empire State, to recognize its vast wealth
and variety of resources. Among the treasures of this great state is
the Empire State Building, the crown Jewel of New York City. Although
there are three buildings taller than the ESB in Chicago, you'd never
convince a New Yorker that that Empire State Building was not the greatest
building in America. There is a certain pride that New Yorkers feel for
this building, it's almost a part of them. Therefore the race up the
ESB is run as only a New Yorker would see fit - Manhattan rush hour style.
I arrived at this race in the best shape of my life. My preparation
was extensive and far beyond that of any other stair race I've entered.
Other than a minor cold that had been nagging me for the 5 days leading
up to the race, I was ready to rock. At the check in table I received
number 70, which was NOT a seeded number. This meant that I would not
be anywhere near the front row when the gun went off. I was devastated.
This is a mass start race - meaning that 150 of the fittest men on earth
will be fighting for position as they cross 30 feet of slick, polished
granite in an attempt to be the first to enter a stairwell door that
is 38 inches wide. The first racers through the door are almost guaranteed
a top five finish in the race. Not being ON the start line, is a death
sentence in this race. It means you will be tripping, pushing, getting
pushed, punched, elbowed and kicked, crushed, and possibly trampled as
you clamor for the door in the midst of the chaos. I liken it to the
Running of the Bulls in Spain.
As I warmed up around the lobby, I noticed a very large international
contingent this year. They were taking photos and being interviewed by
the press. Being the understanding guy that I am, I just assumed that
there were lots of amazing foreigners here today and that's why I didn't
get seeded. I would just have to do my best and fight my way through
the crowd into a top 20 finish, which was the best I could hope for under
the circumstances. That was until I bumped into my friend from Chicago
- Jesse Berg (see the US Bank Tower entry). Jesse was wearing number
5, and would be standing squarely on the start line. I congratulated
Jesse on his great position, but inside my heart had dropped to the floor,
I felt totally disrespected by the race organizers. I took it personally.
Had they not seen my win at the US Bank Tower in Los Angeles, where I
finished 3 seconds ahead of Jesse? My head started to spin. I felt defeated.
My friend Jamie, who had come to video the event overheard Jesse and
I talking about my starting position. Jamie lives in Lower Manhattan,
and she doesn't tolerate her friends being disrespected. So with a few
minutes to go until the start, Jamie marched over to the race organizers
desk and let them have it. As they began to line us up at the start line,
Jamie ran over and told me that they were going to allow me to start
in the front row. I had to aggressively push my way through the crowd,
which wasn't easy, because no one wanted to give even a single position
away. As I arrived at the front row I was yelled at by an official who
told me that I had to get back to my position. I told him I had permission
to be there. He said I didn't. Jamie ran to my aid and a very heated
New York style conversation erupted. Rather than being ejected from the
race, I quickly ducked behind Marco Gaspari from Italy and took a position
in the second row. No one complained, but I was a nervous wreck. I thought
this position might have its advantages as Marco is the World Mountain
Running Champion and the best stairclimb racer on earth. He recently
won the race up Tapei 101 (the World's tallest building) in Taiwan, beating
the two time defending Empire State Building champion, Thomas Dold from
Germany, quite easily. My plan was to shadow Marco for as long as I could,
thinking that would guarantee me a phenomenal race.
When the gun went off, all hell broke loose. Jesse Berg got off quickly
on the left side, and Ricky Gates (US Mountain Running Champion) got
off quickly on the right. The middle was a different story. Jan Mathias
from Germany (2nd at last year's ESB race), extended both his arms like
a cross, and forced them into the chests of Thomas Dold and Marco Gaspari
on either side of him. This action pushed Jan out in front of the middle
group, with disatrous results. Within 2 seconds of the gun going off,
Marco found himself pushed off balance and heading to the floor, and
about to be trampled. His chances of claiming this tower for himself
had just vanished.
It's amazing how time slows down when you have pure adrenaline pumping
through your body. When I saw Marco taking a dive only inches in front
of me, hundreds of thoughts and calculations cascaded through my mind.
I was already moving at full speed and could not put on the breaks as
the frenzied crowd behind me would have trampled me as well. So I decided
to jump over him. But his body was still moving forward on the floor.
Instead of looking ahead, I was scanning the ground so as not to step
on his head or neck when I came down. This became problematic when people
started pushing me from behind while i was in mid air. I was turning
sideways as I neared my landing and my path was no longer in line with
the door ahead. I hit the ground and was swept up in the commotion and
forced off balance into the wall next to the door opening. Like a cat
trying to land on it's feet while falling, I whipped my body around and
rolled through the door. The strong flow of bodies now coming through
the door forced me straight ahead towards the downward flight of stairs
to the basement. I fought my way back to the upward flight and began
doing what I came here to do - climb stairs. People began to pull on
my shoulders and my shirt in order to get by in an old stairwell not
wide enough to two people. A man in front of me elbowed me in the face
and then did the same to other racers who came up on him. I was totally
disoriented. I wasn't even aware that I was running anymore. I was swept
up in the flow and I was panicking. I was having a full on panic attack.
Now I have never been in a crowd of people that has tried to escape from
a burning building, and I do not want to lessen the horrific nature of
that experience, but to me that's what I imagine it would feel like.
I was no longer thinking clearly, I was acting like a frightened animal.
I "woke up" somewhere around the 18th floor when I realized
that I was running every step - instead of every other step which is
my racing and training technique, AND I was NOT pulling the railings!!
I was doing the whole thing with my legs. The subconcsious panic quickly
became conscious dread as I realized that I had lost control and was
blowing the race. I tried to find a rhythm and exercise my normal technique,
but my heart was coming out of my chest and I just couldn't make it stop.
The pace was steady from that point forth, but the damage was already
done. I was well behind the lead pack, and my accelerated heart rate
had sucked the life out of me. I had to settle for 14th place.
Thomas Dold managed to overcome his shaky start and duked it out with
Ricky Gates all the way to the top to win by just 8 seconds, for his
3rd straight victory. Jan Mathias was 3rd. Jesse Berg was 6th. An injured
Marco Gaspari remained calm after his starting disaster and ran a very
solid race. He worked his way through the pack in the congested stairwell
and finished in a phenomenal 7th place.
I interviewed Marco after the race. He was rightfully upset with the
way the race is run and commented that it's not a race to see who's in
the best shape, but it's a race of luck and dirty tactics.
Reading all of the above might lead one to believe that I had a bad
experience at the race, but that would be far from the truth. I rate
this race as the most successful event to date for the Running Raw Project.
Not because of my place in the race, but due to the large number of people
who approached me before and after the race and shared their stories
with me. Dozens of people in the race said they had seen my video of
last year's race on YouTube. Many others had looked deeper and made their
way to my site. A few more even shared with enthusiasm that they had
made major changes in their diet leading up to the race because of what
they saw and read on my site - I was blown away. It was actually working.
It occurred to me, that my success didn't have anything to do with winning
races, but it had everything to do with showing up to a LOT of races,
always willing to share and talk to anyone who is curious. It is momentum
that makes things happen, that starts the process of transformation.
I had been so caught up on trying to win all the time that I had missed
that.
Click HERE to watch the race video.
Click HERE to watch my NYC raw restaurant adventures video.
What goes up, must come down. The competitors in the Curly's Record
Run snowshoe race in Pittlsfield, MA this past weekend might rephrase
that statement as: what goes up, up, up and still higher up, must come
down, down, and very quickly down. Standing at the registration table,
the air was abuzz with talk of the 700 foot non-stop climb a mile into
the race. Now had this been a mountain running race, such a climb would
be seen as insignificant, but snowshoeing is not running. The weight
and awkwardness of the shoes combined with the challenge of running on
snow make snowshoeing infinitely more exhausting. The week prior at the
race in Florida, MA, a hill of only 80 feet had laid me to waste, so
naturally I feared for the worst.
During a short warmup with Dave Dunham, he informed me that a very tough
crowd of athletes had assembled. Top mountain runner Tim Mahoney was
again on hand. National Showshoe bronze medalist and All American mountain
runner Ben Nephew was there. New England standout triathlete and snowshoe
racer Matt Cartier had also been spotted in the crowd, and well, then
there was Dave. Dave is first and foremost a mountain runner. He's a
legend in the American mountain running scene, for his ability to tirelessly
grind away at a solid pace on never ending uphills. This course was designed
for racers like him and everyone else in the race knew it.
Curly's Record Run is named in honor of Albert "Curly" Voll's
record setting downhill skiing performance on the Shadow Trail in Pittsfield
State Forest back in 1944. Curly doesn't race anymore, but he was kind
enough to blow the starting whistle to get the race underway. From the
start, the strategy of the other top racers was clear - get to the hill
with a solid lead on Dave Dunham in hopes of providing just enough cushion
to hold him off on the monster climb. Dave is not a crazy downhill runner,
he prefers the ups. So to beat him to the top of the hill, or to even
be close to him at the top of the hill meant certain victory for a fast
downhill runner. The course started climbing almost immediately, and
Ben Nephew and Tim Mahoney jumped out into an early lead. I stayed back
a bit with Dave Dunham and Matt Cartier. A mile later when the "hill"
came into view, it was clear that Ben and Tim were already beginning
to tire. A hundred meters into the climb Ben stepped aside and let us
pass. Dave took off and I couldn't keep up. It wasn't long before he
passed Tim and took the lead. Tim was about 10 seconds ahead of me on
the climb and was keeping a steady pace. I didn't want to go after him
and risk dying as I had the week before, so I kept the gap and made sure
that he didn't widen it. After nearly a mile of constant climbing we
reached the top, exhausted. Dave was so far ahead that he was no longer
visible. I was very excited that I had made it to the top of the hill
in third place, because my forte was yet to come. Tim picked up the pace
on the rolling course on top of the mountain and widened the gap a bit.
I couldn't hear anyone behind me so I stayed where I was, trying to get
some strength back in my legs. That strength would be absolutely necessary
to safely navigate the steep pitch of the Shadow Trail at high speed.
It was after all a downhill ski run, and could prove quite dangerous
if one got out of control. A left hand turn brought me to the top of
the Shadow Trail. I could see Tim Mahoney about 15 seconds ahead of me,
so I let it rip.
The trick to fast downhill running is to let yourself fall under control.
You let gravity do the work for you as you guide your feet to the next
safe landing. But with twists and turns, trees, rocks and logs to jump,
that's not always an easy task. I must have been going 25 miles an hour,
as each step carried me about 20 feet down the trail. In no time I was
blowing by Tim as if he were standing still. I couldn't see Dave in front
of me, but I had every intention of catching him and renaming this trail
"Tim's Record Run". That thought lasted about two minutes,
which was the amount of time it took Matt Cartier to pass me as if I
was standing still. He must have been doing 30. I've never seen anyone
run downhill that fast. I was demoralized. Even though I kept up my blistering
pace, part of me was already beginning to settle in to 3rd place. It's
funny how the mind does that to you.
Somehow, I managed to make several high speed log jumps and arrived
at the bottom of the hill safely. Matt was no longer in sight. With about
1.5 miles of flat and bumpy terrain left in the race a little voice popped
into my head. "You beat Matt on the flats and ups already, you can
do it again", it said. The voice was right. I shifted into high
gear and went after him. The sinuous twists and turns through the woods
made it difficult to see anyone in front of you, but I knew he was there
somewhere, getting closer with each stride. Then suddenly I saw two sticks
planted in the snow next to the trail, that spelled "YI". These
sticks would have gone unnoticed by most in the race, but they were of
special significance to me because I had placed them there before the
race. On my warmup before the start, I had gone backwards on the course
from the finish to a point 4 minutes in. I chose to mark this place as
my point to begin my finishing kick. I found two sticks of interesting
shape and placed them next to eachother in a way that I'd easily notice
- the "YI" formation. My adrenalin rushed as I now saw the
familiar sticks, the end was near, no holding back. I picked up the pace,
and braced against the nausea in my stomach. Two minutes later I burst
into the small field containing the finish. Dave was now visible as was
Matt. I had gained considerably on them, but they were too far ahead
to catch in the ever shortening sprint to the finish. I did not settle
for 3rd place. I earned it.
Ten minutes after the finish I was invited to do a warmdown with Dave,
Ben and Tim. Dave is a man of many lists. One of these lists contains
the names of every town in Massachusetts. His goal is to run in each
of these 350+ towns. Well it so happens that this race was near the intersection
of four towns that Dave had never run in, so we set off on a long easy
snowshoe run to help him check them off. Wait, did I say easy? Scratch
that, the course that Dave had plotted on some online mapping site had
us running up a logging road that climbed over 1500 feet in one solid
stretch. This mind you, was taking place shortly after getting pummeled
by a hill half that size at race pace. Nonetheless, it was a beautiful
trek and I enjoyed the company and conversation. At the summit of the
Taconic Range we were presented with a gorgeous three state view of MA,
NY and VT. We stopped to reflect for a moment next to a small lake as
well, where a state forest sign informed us that it was the highest lake
in Massachusetts at 2,150 feet in elevation. It was beautiful. The warmdown
took well over an hour. I was spent. Dave on the other hand was planning
to knock off two more towns on his 3 hour ride home north of Boston.
Dave is no ordinary human being, he is the stuff legends are made of.
Yes, you read the title correctly - I snowshoed in Florida yesterday
with a hundred other winter sports fanatics. Of course I'm referring
to Florida, Massachusetts, just south of the Vermont border on the high
Green Mountain plateau. It's an oddly named town, as it sits at an elevation
of over 2,000 feet and registers the coldest temperatures and greatest
snowfall in Massachusetts. Not many retirees living up there.
This being the third race in the WMAC snowshoe series (and my 3rd snowshoe
race as well), it attracted all the usual suspects. There was the legend
Dave Dunham, several members of the infamous CMS (Central Mass Striders)
team were on hand, and the ARE (Albany Running Exchange) showed up with
an entire van-load of racers, including Josh Merlis who had won the race
in Guilderland, NY on the 6th. This was the deepest field of snowshoe
talent that I'd seen.
As I was beginning to warm up, a man in his late 40's stopped me in
the parking lot. He told me that he had seen my jacket at the last race
and went to my website. Shuffling through a bag he had next to his car
he pulled out a few bananas and an apple to show me. "It makes sense"
he said, "I'm going to try eating a lot more fruits and veggies
and see what happens." he added. I chatted with him for a bit longer
and then continued my warm up. It's difficult to know how much of an
impact I'm having on this journey. I often wonder if people just think
I'm crazy, especially when I turn down the free doughnuts, homemade chili,
hot chocolate and stacks of pancakes that usually follow these races.
It only takes one person to approach me and tell me that I've affected
them somehow to keep me going strong on this lonely road.
Two days before the race I began to feel a little off and could only
many to struggle through two 2 mile runs with great difficulty. The day
before the race I was feeling a little better and did a longer run, but
much slower than my normal pace. I was hoping that I'd be 100% by race
day. As I discovered half way through the race, I was clearly not.
The snow was what skiers refer to as "sugar snow", small hard
granules that don't stick together and slide very nicely on eachother.
It's the kind of snow that makes for very fast runs down the slopes.
It's also the kind of snow that gives way under foot every step of the
way in a snowshoe race making the effort similar to running in deep sand
with snowshoes on - not something I'd advise.
My goal leading up to this race was to take the lead from the start
and hold on for as long as I could. Ideally this strategy would have
me win the race, but the main purpose was to learn my pace. I wanted
to test myself early in the race to see how long I could endure a faster
pace before breaking down.
The bell went off and I blitzed out of the start. Dave Dunham was right
next to me. We were neck and neck, leading the field through the first
150 meters on a wide snow covered road. I picked up the pace to move
into the lead, but Dave picked it up as well and we remained side by
side as we entered the more narrow single track through the woods. I
couldn't go any faster. We were less than 300 meters into the race and
I was already exhausted. I knew that I'd never be taking the lead in
this race, so I tucked in behind Dave. My breathing was eratic and strained,
my legs felt sluggish, but I kept up. Four racers had formed a chain
behind me, with the rest of the field drifting away. The course featured
several short, steep climbs and a few very long climbs. Dave was pushing
the climbs hard. He would charge up each hill on the mushy snow, he was
trying to lose us. I stayed right on his heels, but I was paying the
price. The hills were turning my legs into sludge and I was in trouble.
Approximately one and a half miles into the 3.3 mile course, we came
to a long steep climb. I tried my best to relax into it and just push
forward, but I could barely pick up my legs for each step. I turned around
to see the 4 racers still in the train behind me, they looked fresh.
So I stepped aside and let them all pass. I stood on the side of the
trail for a few seconds watching them all snake through the woods with
their brightly colored spandex outfits. It looked like a festive parade,
and now I was just a bystander. I started walking up the hill. Even that
made me nauseated. I finally reached the top of the hill, the train in
front of me was gone from sight, they were well ahead of me now. Fortunately,
we were all well enough ahead, that I couldn't see anybody coming up
behind me. My goal now was to stay in 6th place. I was being optimistic.
I trotted through the woods for a good five minutes when I realized
that my heart had slowed down significantly and my legs were feeling
revived again. So I picked up the pace a bit - still felt ok. I crested
the top of a little hill and a very long steep downhill appeared in front
of me. I love downhills. Not because they are easier to run than uphills,
because they are not, running downhill on snowshoes is actually quite
dangerous. It's very easy to catch a tip on a branch, tree or frozen
crust and go down, but even worse is the possibility of "post-holing".
The increased weight and speed of a downhill descent reduce much of the
snowshoe's ability to keep the runner on top of the snow. Often you will
hit a pocket of very deep snow that has blown over fallen logs or rocks.
It appears flat from the surface of the snow, but it hides a very dangerous
topography below. With three times your body weight coming down on each
downhill step, it's easy to punch a hole straight down to the bottom
of the snow and in between rocks and logs - post-holing. Your momentum
then continues to carry your body forward with great speed and inertia,
all while your leg is now jammed into a hole a few feet behind you. It's
the perfect recipe for a broken leg of the worst kind. Despite this danger,
I am an absolute madman on the downhills. I hold nothing back and do
not break my speed. When I reached the bottom of this very long downhill
I must have been moving well in excess of 20 miles an hour. An object
in motion tends to stay in motion and that's exactly what I did. I carried
my speed as long as i could. I was refreshed. Another reckless descent
put me within close sight of the 5th place racer. With newfound hope
I bore down on him and caught him within a hundred yards, I was flying.
Another quarter mile and I was closing quickly on the racers in 4th and
3rd place who were still running together. A slight decline in the trail
gave me just enough of a crazy-man advantage to catch them. The trail
had started to turn up again, so instead of passing them I tucked in
behind them and waited for the next downhill to make my attack. A hundred
yards ahead of us I could now see 2nd place Josh Merlis, who had won
the previous race. Judging by his side to side bobble, I knew he was
hurting. Slowly over the next half mile we reeled him in. I was still
waiting for my downhill to make my move, But it never came. We burst
out onto a snow covered road with the finish only 300 meters away. Josh
had 5 seconds on the three of us who were now running side by side fighting
for third place - or possibly second if our kick was strong enough. Alas
the finish was a gradual uphill and it quickly brought me to a hobble
as the other racers slowly edged me out. I would settle for 5th, just
a handfull of seconds out of 2nd place. Dave Dunham had easily won the
race.
Dave joined me for my post race warmdown run. During the run Dave revealed
to me how tough he thought the course was. He said he was dead out there
and when he saw the train of 5 people behind him in the beginning he
thought he was doomed. Perspective is an amazing thing.
The second race in the WMAC snowshoe series was held in Guilderland,
NY, just a few miles outside of the state capitol Albany, NY. This is
the 5th year of this event, and the first time in those 5 years that
there has been snow to run on. This winter bounty attracted an excited
crowd from all over the Northeast to take on this challenging 4 mile
course.
Once again I showed up with my dad's big old clunker snowshoes, hoping
that the added weight and size wouldn't slow me down that much. But as
luck would have it, I bumped into Dave Dunham in the parking lot who
happened to have 4 extra pair of racing shoes in his trunk - the perks
of being a sponsored athlete. Dave was kind enough to lend me a pair
and I was ready to go.
The Albany Running Exchange, the club that put on the race, pulled out
all the stops. They had a full on snowshoeing expo in gym of the elementary
school adjacent to the course. You could test all kinds of gear, get
a massage, fill up on a pancake breakfast, purchase A.R.E. clothing,
hang out with a snowman mascot, etc. Did I mention the throngs of smiling
people? This was my kind of race.
The start of the race was through an unpacked field with about 10 inches
of heavy, wet snow covering the ground. I noticed Dave Dunham meticulously
walking back and forth along a single path perpendicular to the start
line. What I discovered after the start, was that Dave was packing a
trail for himself to use out of the gate. While we were all trampling
through the deep wet snow, Dave was running on a packed trail. Now why
didn't I think of that? Despite the sludgy start, I managed to come out
of the mess in second place behind Dave as we entered the single track
through the woods. My goal: Stay with Dave as long as I could - he was
the man to beat, or should I say, he was the man to pull me to a great
performance.
The pace seemed slow to me and I was barely laboring, but we were pulling
away from the pack. I didn't want to pass as I thought maybe I'd tire
out too quickly, so I just tucked in behind Dave and relaxed. Near the
one mile point we were caught by another racer who joined the lead train.
The three of us ran the next two and a half miles on eachother's heels.
Past a hundred cheering fans along the course, and even a young girl
who was building snowmen to block the trails we were to avoid.
Dave's shoes were a little different than I was used to and landed at
a bit of an angle, which caused me to crack my ankle bones with the hard
aluminum frames every 100 steps or so causing my ankles to swell and
bruise. If it weren't for my recent reading of "The New Toughness
Training For Sports", I'm sure I would have let out a scream each
time it happened (note to self: wear ankle pads).
I was starting to tire. The course seemed to go on forever with no end
in sight. We were told that it was a 5k, but I had a feeling that we
had reached that point a while back. I could sense Dave slowing in front
of me as well, and later learned that he was also wondering when this
thing was going to end. He had the added burden of running the entire
race with someone (me) six inches off his heels, which is a huge psychological
weight to carry. Finally, the racer behind me said "on your right" as
he burst around me through the deep snow. I was in no mood for a duel,
so I let him in. We remained a chain of three, but now I was in 3rd.
The "easy" victory that I was savoring in the early stages
of the race had vanished. Two hundred yards further and the racer in
the middle called
"on your right" to Dave. But Dave was in a spunkier mood than
I was and he sped up. He was not going to let this kid win easily, he
was going to make him earn it. Dave's increased speed was more than I
could handle now, and the two of them drifted slowly away from me. Another
hundred yards and the racer tried again, but this time he unleashed a
fury of flying snow as he launched by Dave's best effort to stave him
off. I could see the field containing the finish line through the trees
ahead, it must have been only a quarter mile to the finish. The lead
runner was still sprinting and getting farther ahead of us as we entered
the field. Dave kicked enough to keep me from catching back up and crossed
the line in 2nd. I finished 3rd, only seven seconds behind him. The winner
turned out to be the founder of the Albany Running Exchange, Josh Merlis.
Had we known the course as well as he did, perhaps we would have had
some extra mental steam to get us through the dragging later parts.
Goal for next race: Don't tuck in behind anyone - go for it and see
how long I can hang on to the lead (that's gonna leave a mark).
Click HERE to
see the video.
Since snowshoeing has become such a staple of my winter workouts, I
thought it only natural to start entering local snowshoe races. The Western
Mass. Athletic Club (WMAC) has a winter race series, with races held
in VT, MA, NY and NH. The first race of the series happened to be in
my backyard - Woodford, VT.
Since the warming of the climate has softened the New England winter
over the last 15 years, Woodford is one of the few places in the Northeast
where you can find consistent snow throughout the season. It's a high
plateau over 2,000' in elevation that rises up from Bennington and the
Valley of Vermont. Winter there is a full month longer than the already
long 4 month winter in the valley below. I have been blessed to have
this winter wonderland only 8 miles from my house and I've been snowhoe
running there almost every day.
Dave Dunham, one of the top mountain runners in the country (I've blogged
about him in the Mt. Washington and Cranmore races), encouraged me to
enter the race series. He told me that it's a great way to stay sharp
during the winter months, and that many of the top mountain runners take
up snowshoe racing.
So I showed up at the race with my big old snowshoes that my dad has
been lending me only to notice that almost all of the 100+ racers there
were using smaller racing snowshoes. After a brief conversation with
Bob Dion of Dion Snowshoes (Locally made just down the road from Woodford
in Readsboro, VT), he offered to lend me a pair of racing shoes for the
race. I was ready to rock.
During a brief warmup with Dave Dunham, he informed me that Josh Ferenc
and Greg Hammet were racing today. Greg is a top mountain runner and
snowshoe racer and Josh was 3rd last year at the US Mtn. Running Championships
and runs a sub 30 minute 10k. During a warmdown with another racer I
was informed that Dave Dunham was the US snowshoe champion a few years
back. This was not a "local" race, this baby was stacked with
talent.
We lined up at the start. It was 18 degrees. Dave told me that the conditions
looked fast and that we'd probably be running 7 minute miles. That sounded
awfully fast to me, so I thought I might just hang back for the first
mile to see how I feel and just let the top dogs go. After all this was
my very first snowshoe race, what right did I have trying to stay with
such an elite field of racers.
The gun went off and a snow-dust cloud erupted in front of me. I could
barely see as I lurched forward to get a good position in the mass start.
Unlike a foot race where it is relatively easy to maneuver around other
runners in the starting mayhem, in a snowshoe race you have to contend
with all the snowshoes that surround you and the snow being constantly
kicked into your eyes. It's very easy to trip or be tripped. The middle
of the pack is not a place you want to find yourself in if you want to
have a good race. So I managed to dodge the runners around me and I headed
to the side of the trail. The snow was deeper there, but at least I could
see better and I could accelerate. The lead group of 4 was already well
in front. I pulled up and around the main crowd and started my pursuit
of the lead pack. A half mile into the race we came to a long steep uphill
which slowed most of the racers down significantly. This is where I made
my move. Taking shorter strides and increasing my tempo I started to
gain on the man in 4th place. A few hundred yards further, where the
windy and narrow single track began I had caught him. I could no longer
see the Josh Ferenc in the lead and Dave Dunham and Greg Hammet were
barely visible in the woods ahead. I was feeling strong and wanted to
pick up the pace but the trail was very windy and too narrow to pass.
I feared that if I went into the deep snow on the side of the trail that
I might fall or run into a tree, so I just sat on the heels of the racer
in front of me not knowing what to do. If I were the aggressive type
I probably would have just told him to get out of the way, but I'm thoughtful
and considerate and didn't want to inconvience him. After about a mile
of tailing him, the racers ahead were long since gone from view and well
ahead of us. The man in front of me finally turned around and said "do
you want to go by?" I said "yes" and quickly moved passed
him as he stepped aside. I picked up the pace significantly. At one point
I came to a poorly marked 4 way intersection that had me stopped for
a good 10 seconds as I tried to figure out which of the equally trampled
trails was the right one. I thought of waiting for the man behind me
to catch up so that he could assist me, but then I noticed an orange
ribbon on a branch above me about 8 feet high - not where you are looking
when you are navigating tricky terrain. Angered, I charged forward eager
to make up for lost time. The snow was a bit harder on this part of the
course and it allowed me to run even faster, so I did. With about half
a mile to go, I could see the blue shirt of Greg Hammet ahead of me,
so I picked it up even more. As we came into the final quarter mile straightaway
we were neck and neck. It would come down to the final sprint to the
finish. Dave Dunham was visible as well now about 200 meters ahead of
us. I sprinted as fast as I could, but Greg beat me to the finish line.
I finished in 4th place. What an awesome race, and a great learning experience.
I'm hooked.
My stragegy next week: Get a better start. Run with the Big Dogs.
Click HERE to
watch the video.
Thrashing through the snow in the Snowstorm Classic 5k was so much
fun, that I decided to make the hour and forty minute drive south again
to compete in the Snowstorm Classic 10k. Where the 5k offered bone chilling
temps and snow covered roads, the 10k presented a gauntlet of new challenges,
including hard packed ice on 50% of the course and much stiffer competition.
The temperature was a balmy 30 degrees, so naturally many of the runners
thought that a t-shirt and shorts were the appropriate attire. My wimpy
California blood demanded that I wear two layers on the top and bottom.
Over 100 runners lined up at the start line on the edge of a frozen
duck pond. The crowd was abuzz with cheerful conversation and smiling
faces. The race started with a quarter mile long uphill into a densely
wooded area of the park. The road was completely covered with old snow
that had been packed down into ice. Everyone was slipping as they tried
to get up the hill. I managed to get into the top 5 without falling and
breaking my neck by running on the very edge of the road where there
was still crumbly snow to offer some traction. At the top of the hill
we were greeted by a very large locked steel arm gate. Some of the runners
planted their hands and vaulted over it, only to slip and fall as they
landed, others dusted off their baseball skills and slid under it on
the ice. I chose option C - to run around it through the knee deep snow.
It was perhaps the safest choice but it filled my shoes with very chilly
snow. For the next two miles, I ran with the lead pack of 5. We were
all taking different tracks on the icy road hoping to get more traction.
At the two mile point one of the racers announced that we had run 12:40
for two miles. This was about 50 seconds per mile slower than I wanted
to run, but we were moving as fast as we could on the ice.
We finally reached an area of clear pavement at two and a half miles
and one runner broke away. He was trying to make up as much time as he
could now that we could run at a normal pace, well, normal for running
in 30 degree temps with lots of clothing on. I picked up the pace a bit,
but for some reason I let him get away - perhaps he was just faster than
me, I'm not sure. When I hit the 4 mile mark, he had a 30 second lead
over me, and I was about a minute up on 3rd place. I surmised that the
man in front of me was a very good runner and had decided that I was
comfortable getting second place to him. It was an easy second, and I
didn't have to work that hard to guarantee it.
That's when I noticed that the road was again changing to ice, and I
could see him struggling and slipping far ahead in the distance. A new
voice popped into my head. It said, "I'm fast. I'm tough. And this
is easy!". The voice kept repeating these three lines over and over.
The clear culprit in this mental coup d'etat was a book that I had started
reading a few days prior, called - "The NEW Toughness Training For
Sports"
by James E. Loehr. Someone on one of the raw food forums had been watching
my video blogs apparently and thought that I could use a little toughening
up. I'm always open to advice, so I found the book on Amazon and bought
it used for $2 bucks. The book essentially breaks every athlete into
two halves - The Real Self and the Performer Self, and then goes on to
instruct one how to toughen up the Performer Self. Well, the voice I
was hearing in my head must have been my unsatisfied Real Self pushing
my Performer Self out of the way and taking over the job of moving my
legs. It's amazing how much of the discomfort we experience in life is
self-imposed, because once I started listening to the pep-talk that my
Real Self was giving me, I began to feel like an entirely different person.
I picked up the pace drastically and set my goal to vaporize his 30 second
lead and win the race. The ice whizzed beneath my feet as I clocked a
low 5 minute pace. Every corner we turned offered up the view of his
back - closer than it was before. I began to realize that I wasn't even
feeling tired. The voice just kept repeating those 3 lines, "I'm
fast. I'm tough. And this is easy!". Suddenly it was interupted
by the gorgeous view of the tops of trees and a cloud speckled blue sky
- I was horizontal in the air. I hit the ground hard and slid about 15
feet on my back. Before I even came to a stop I was up on my feet again,
ignoring the pain and more determined than ever to catch him. The anger
and pain of falling was being translated into an even faster pace.
With less than half a mile to go, the road ended and we had to jump
a snowbank and run 30 feet on a snowy trail to another road. I was moving
so quickly through the trail that I surprised him when I burst out onto
the road only 3 feet behind him. He turned around and looked at me with
shock and fear in his eyes. It was like a watching a prey animal when
it realizes that the predator has snuck up it and is about to make it's
lethal pounce. He found a 5th gear and bolted down the hill ahead. I
chased in hot pursuit, there was no way my dinner was going to get away.
When we hit the 6 mile mark, we were moving at an all out sprint. There
were only two tenths of a mile remaining to see who had the fastest kick.
He reached down deep and pulled away from me in the final stretch. I
was moving as fast as my legs would carry me and I simply could not keep
up. I had run a 1:48 (4:30 pace) for the last four tenths of a mile,
he had run a 1:42 (4:20 pace). My second place time of 35:54 translated
into 3 miles above 6 minute pace, and 3 miles at close to 5 minute pace.
Considering the nature of this course and my initial "laziness" this
is a sign of great things to come.
Lessons learned: Never give up, never give in. You feel what you beileve
you feel. Change your beliefs and you can change your feelings. Never
underestimate yourself or your opponent. Always do your best.
Next week I'm going to enter my first ever snowshoe race. I can't wait.
When I initially came to Vermont I was quite worried that my training
would come to a halt as winter arrived. The icy roads and cold temps
make running far more challenging and dangerous. In addition, we've had
a very snowy November and December so far. So, I've been forced to become
creative with my training and take advantage of what a Vermont winter
has to offer. Over 80 percent of Vermont is forested mountains with endless
trails and abandoned logging roads. It's an outdoor enthusiast's paradise.
There is no better way to explore this vast wilderness than on snowshoes,
and as I've discovered, there is no better workout as well.
So I made the 20 minute drive north to Manchester, VT to snowshoe up
mighty Mt. Equinox. This stunning mountain climbs 3,300 feet quite abruptly
from the valley below, and offers some of the best views in all of Vermont.
The freezing cold temps inspired me to give a talk on the apparent "need"
for hot food in a cold winter climate, that many raw fooders fall victim
to.
Click HERE to see info
on Mt. Equinox
Click HERE to
watch the video
My apologies to those of you that have been looking forward to more
videos on my site and on YouTube. I was in the process of filming a segment
on the "joys" of running in a Vermont winter when I slipped
and fell on the icy road and smashed my camera. I will still be posting
written blogs, but there will be no more new video segments. I do have
some footage that I shot beforehand that I will put up soon.
Snowstorm Classic 5K:
It's been a month since my last race in Milwaukee. A month of rough and
tumble Vermont winter. I've been doubting whether my isolated training
has been hard enough on my hard days. In Los Angeles I would do a race
a weekend as my hard tempo workout. It's not such much about the competition
as it is about the intense workout that a race provides. I just can't
push myself as hard on my own.
So yesterday, I headed down to the Snowstorm Classic 5K in Springfield,
MA to get my race on. I was hoping to get a tempo workout of a few miles
in the low 5 minute range. When I went to the event website and looked
at last weeks results (this is a 9 week series throughout the winter
on the same course), I was a bit disappointed - the winner ran a 17:39
- nearly two minutes slower than my best time for a 5k. But being that
this was the only race in New England this weekend, I decided to go anyways.
What really excited me about this race was a little blurb on the event
website that read: "The races have never been canceled throughout
their history. No matter how cold it is, regardless of how much
it may snow, if you can get to the Skate House, you can run.". This
is my kind of crowd - hard as nails New Englanders.
It was 9 degrees when I left Vermont at 8 AM and I hoped that it would
be significantly warmer when the race started. The race was held in Forest
Park in Springfield, MA, an enormous forested city park with numerous
lakes and miles of trails. I was very impressed with the park, and I'd
rate it as one of the top 10 city parks in the country. Park roads are
not maintained like city streets and were therefore completely covered
in packed snow and ice. This was going to be a very slippery and challenging
race. At race time, a very friendly and rugged looking group of 100 or
so runners (some in shorts and long sleeve T's) congregated at the start
line. It was 13 degrees. I was amazed that this many runners came out
to run on this snowy course in these frigid temps. These were serious
runners.
I have been running high mileage for the past few weeks and doing very
hard leg strength workouts, so I wasn't expecting much other than a hard
workout. Having seen the condition of the course, and now realizing that
I'd have to run with 3 layers of clothing on, a big hat and heavy gloves,
that 17:39 winning time from last week was starting to sound pretty fast.
As I looked around at the crowd of people standing on the line with me,
most jumping up and down to stay warm, I felt like I was part of something
special. These were not ordinary people out to compete for bragging rights
or to get a PR, this was a group of exceptional, joyful people who were
truly committed to something - running and community.
The ringing of a large cowbell signaled the start of the race and we
were off. A pack of college kids lead the charge up the first hill. It
was covered with ice and everyone was slipping. I found that the snowier
edge of the road gave me more footing than the hard packed middle and
I charged around the crowd. Before the race began, I was informed that
the course would not be marked and that I'd have to memorize the map,
which I hadn't done. My strategy was to run the tricky first mile and
half with another runner and then try to pull ahead as the course became
more simple (or so it appeared on the map). At the half mile point, I
was running on the heels of the leader in second place. During the warmup
I had singled him out as the one to beat. He looked the part of an elite
runner, and a few minutes of chatting with him revealed that he was one
of the top marathoners in New England. It was difficult to maintain a
fast pace as the snow would slip out from under your feet on occasion
and make you lurch forward. I had to begin picking my feet up for each
new step instead of pushing off from the previous step. At roughly a
mile and a half, I picked up the pace and took the lead. No one followed
my break. At the next intersection, I heard a yell behind me "go
left, go left!!", I quickly corrected my mistake and powered on.
As more unmarked intersections began to appear, I realized that I was
going to need the guidance of the runner behind me in second place. I
slowed the pace a little to allow him within loud speaking distance.
He was nice enough to guide my every turn for the rest of the race. Now
THAT is sportsmanship. The final 200 meters of the race had us jumping
over a snowbank (thank god for my guide behind me) and running on an
unpacked trail with 10 inches of heavy snow on it. I stumbled 3 or 4
times trying to maintain my footing in the deep snow. Then I jumped over
one final snowbank and I was in the parking lot crossing the finish line.
I won the race in 17:45. A time that I was very proud to have run under
these conditions.
After the race we all ran into the skate house next to the lake to get
warm. There were no prizes or awards ceremony, just a great group of
friendly people sharing stories, hot chocolate and doughnuts and planning
for next week's race. I wouldn't miss it for the world.
My buddy Robert Cheeke at VeganBodybuilding.com recently asked me to
fill out a featured athlete profile for his site. Even though i'm not
a "bodybuilder" he thought that people should know about what
i'm doing. Robert put together a great questionaire for the profile,
so if you'd like to get a little more info on what i'm doing and how
i'm doing it, check it out at: http://www.veganbodybuilding.com/rob/?page=bio_tim
have an amazing Wednesday :)
Tim
Giving Thanks on Thanksgiving Day.
All too often we lump the words thanks and giving together into one
word - Thanksgiving. It has come to mean turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing,
cranberry sauce, and family. The word does little more than house the
name of a holiday.
After spending an incredible evening with the Chicago Raw Community
for their Thanksgiving dinner and then spending the actual holiday with
my family, I've begun to reflect on the meaning of the words "thanks" and "giving" and
on the holiday itself.
I love the idea of family, friends and communities getting together
to celebrate and give thanks. How we chose to express that thanks varies
greatly though. More often than not it becomes a gluttinous "beaching
of the whales", as eager thanks givers line up at the trough to
gorge on seconds and thirds of greasy, buttery, gravy laden "tan" foods.
Stomachs stretched to their elastic limit and the snuggly comfort of
food coma in full effect, the whales beach themselves in front of the
TV for the rest of the day... well at least until the call for dessert
rings out.
The scenario above was all too familiar to me for most of my life. At
the beginning of the meal I'd be thankful for all the food that I was
about to devour. But by meal's end I was pleading with some ultimate
being that I'd be thankful if they just made this awful feeling in my
stomach go away. By the middle of the next day I felt fine again, and
I was thankful for this.
This year's Thanksgiving was markedly different. For starters, it was
the first Thanksgiving that I've attended with my family since I've gone
raw. Secondly, there was something glaringly absent from the dining room
table - the big bird. My family had decided on their own to forego the
turkey this year and replace it with a Dr. Frankenstein inspired Tofurky.
I was thankful that my family was beginning to make the connection between
diet and health.
My contributions to the table included a raw stuffing that took a day
and a half to make, a room temp coconut curry green soup, and some cranberry
apple sauce. I made enough for the entire table of ten, but everyone
was hesitant to try my strange concoctions. My dad was the first to jump
in - he'll eat anything. A look of surprise beamed across his face when
he tried the stuffing and he encouraged everyone to try it. It wasn't
long before the entire table was going for seconds of the raw stuffing
and leaving the standard issue alone. The soup was also a big hit, and
served as the staple for our next two leftover lunches.
I was thankful that everyone was trying and enjoying my creations, so
I thought I might return the favor. Afterall, my mother, grandmother
and sisters had slaved away in the kitchen for an entire day preparing
this bountiful meal, so it would only be fair to at least taste some
of the fruits of their labor. I'd never even seen a Tofurky before, the
whole concept kind of freaks me out, but I had to try at least a tiny
piece. Well, you can't have Tofurky without a small spoonful of vegan
mashed potatoes (you heard right) and a tiny sampling of vegan stuffing
(Tofurky sausage). It amounted to no more than two large spoonfulls on
my plate. It was a symbolic gesture of gratitude, solidarity and blood
being thicker than diet.
I didn't make a big deal out of it. I simply reached for the dishes
and rationed out a tiny bit of each plate. The room fell silent. Everyone
watched as i put the fork into the food in front of me and brought it
to my mouth. It tasted strange, but good. The textures were unfamiliar,
softer than I'm used to. I was breaking bread. My mother was the first
to speak. It was with great elation that she said "I'm glad to see
that you are not perfect". The rest of the family joined in a joyous
chorus of cheers as they witnessed me fall off of my high horse. I was
celebrating them. They were celebrating my demise. I stopped mid bite
and I asked them why there were so happy. Their response - they were
glad to see that I was still human. "Human?" I said. "In
order for one to be human, they must abuse themselves with food?".
I was taken aback. Is this how Americans express their thanks? By commiting
a slow and deliberate suicide with a Standard American Diet (SAD). How
many times have I heard Grace before a meal in which the speaker states "we
are thankful for our health" and then moments later I watch that
same person causing tremendous harm to their health by the foods they
choose to consume.
I think it's time to find a new way to celebrate the giving of thanks.
To be truly grateful and respectful to ourselves and our loved ones.
To celebrate around health, family and community. To be stronger and
more alive at the end of that day than we were at the beginning. To honor
this gift of life that we have all been given.
I'm thankful for my health, for my family and for all
of you who are reading this. You give me my purpose.
Tim
It's been a very exciting week here in the windy city, and feeling more
and more like home everyday.
I was a bit disappointed with my third place at the Sears Tower, so I
drove up to Milwaukee yesterday afternoon to compete in the Climb for
a Cure tower race up the US Bank Center. Although it's the tallest building
in Milwaukee, it's only half as tall as the Sears Tower in Chicago. I
thought a 45 storey climb would be a sprint compared to the 103 floors
of the Sears Tower. I thought wrong.
Anxious to "redeem" myself in this race, I edged to the front
of the line as the racers began to line up. Standing next to me were
a group of some of the finest examples of athleticism I've ever seen
- The Milwaukee Bonecrushers arena football team. These guys have speed,
strength and quads that go on for days. In addition, there were several
elite stair climb athletes that I've seen in LA, Chicago and NYC. So
needless to say, I was VERY nervous. When the starter announced that
the race would begin in 30 seconds and asked who would like to go first
(15 seconds seperated each racer), everyone backed away, leaving me standing
alone. I've never started first in a stair race, and the thought of there
being no one to catch and EVERYONE behind me chasing my heels, made my
pre-race jitters even worse.
The gun went off and I ran like an antelope with a cheetah in hot pursuit.
I knew my pace was unsustainable, but the fear inside of me drove me
on with reckless abandon. I didn't want to have ANYTHING left in the
tank when I finished this race.
When the pain in my quads, the nausea in my stomach, and the sandpaper
like feeling in my throat had all reached an intolerable limit, I lifted
my head to see how much more of this torture I had to endure. The sign
said 21. I was not yet halfway done. But i was DONE. I slowed my pace
a bit and lurched forward with pride being my main fuel at this point.
I pulled myself up the stairs with mostly my arms (using the railings)
as my legs just wouldn't cooperate anymore. I drifted into some safe
place in my head where I wouldn't feel the pain anymore. I imagine it's
similar to the experience of going into shock. That only lasted until
I lifted my head again and saw that it only read 30 - I still had a long
way to go. At this point, the high volume of dry stale air I was inhaling
began to really burn my trachea and lungs, my throat was beginning to
close off, and it was becoming hard to take a full breath.
At the 35th floor I began to somehow pick up the pace. Not because I
wanted to finish with a good time, but because I could no longer endure
this, and I needed to be over as soon as possible. In a flash I was coming
through the door at the top and people were cheering, and then I collapsed.
I laid there writhing in pain for quite some time as others began to
finish behind me.
It would be half an hour before my throat would open up enough for me
to get more than a thin wisp of air in my lungs. I swore to those around
me that I'd never do another tower race, that I hated them.
Half an hour after that, I was informed that I had won the race by 50
seconds, finishing in 5:23, well ahead of the Bonecrushers, the other
elite racers and besting all but one of the 3 person relay teams (they
ran 15 floors each). With the taste of victory in my mouth, it didn't
take long for someone to talk me into doing the 84 storey Aon Center
in Chicago in January, and the 90 storey Hancock Center in Chicago in
February. The ego is a funny thing. I just hope that someone, somewhere
is inspired to make healthier choices because of these events.
Click HERE to
see the video.
Yesterday, I competed in the GoVertical Chicago - Sears Tower Stair
Climb, a grueling race up 103 storeys, and 2109 steps to the top of the
tallest building in the United States. Last year in this race, I started
out way too fast and had to crawl the last 30 floors to finish in 5th
place. A year of stair racing experience now under my belt, I started
yesterday's race much more intelligently and conservatively. I set a
good hard pace that I knew I could maintain for the entire 103 floors.
As I neared the 40th floor I could hear what sounded like a steam engine
coming up the stairs behind me. I was quickly overtaken by a man in his
early 20's whose ipod was turned up so high with heavy metal that I couldn't
hear myself breathe as he went by. Experience told me that this "kid" would
soon hit the wall and that I'd find him crumpled in a heap in the stairs
gasping for air somewhere around the 60th floor. So I let him go, and
maintained my pace. I didn't again hear the roar of his music until the
85th floor. At this point in the race I knew that even if I caught him
by the finish, I could not make up the difference of his start time behind
mine, So I conceded first place, and hoped my strong steady "mature" pace
would garner me second honors. When I passed through the door at the
top I still had gas in the tank, it was a good solid performance. In
a tower race it is nearly impossible to judge your pace and how much
energy you will have if you step it up just a slight amount... will you
make the finish? Or will you collapse before the finish like I thought
the eventual winner would do? It's a challenge of the mind as much as
it is a challenge of the body.
After a few minutes of catching my breath and getting the jelly out
of my legs, I approached the heap of a man lying on the floor who had
claimed victory on America's highest tower. It turns out that it was
the new kid on the block of tower racing, Eric Leninger, who placed 4th
last year, in this same race, beating me by just a few seconds. Eric
has been training very hard, all summer and fall for this race he said...
this was his moment. Both of our times were dramatically improved over
last years efforts.
When the results were finally in, I discovered that another elite runner
who started much farther behind me nipped me by 10 seconds, so I will
settle for third. It's hard not to have doubts about what would have
happened if I had stayed with Eric as he passed me instead of assuming
he was a runner with no experience and just letting him go. But I ran
a smart race, had a phenomenal time, and I'm quite proud of a 3rd place
out of 2,000 people on this, the mother of all stair races.
Click HERE to
see the video.
There is no better way to see the country than to drive across it,
stop every few hundred miles and go for a run or two, and meander about
in small towns looking for fresh organic produce. Although driving 8
to 10 hours a day for 5 days is probably not the best choice to ready
myself for the Sears Tower Stair Climb on the 11th, but money talks...
and so do small towns and cities across America.
Click HERE to
hear their stories.
It has been two years since I took the first running step towards this
dream, and three years since I went 100% raw. What a long strange trip
it's been. It always amazes me how fast time passes, and that if you
don't keep your eye on the prize it is quickly out of reach. I have learned
so much on this journey, and my education never stops.
In the area of diet, I have learned that simpler is better. My performance
suffers when I eat raw gourmet food. My performance suffers when I eat
raw food that contain lots of nut cheeses, nut creams, nut sauces, and
nut fillings. A diet of HUGE salads (with numerous veggies) and a wide
variety of fruits, has given me my best results in training, races and
in overall feelings of well-being. I have learned that super foods are
super expensive and provide no more performance or feelings of well-being
than off the shelf produce at 1/50th the price.
In the area of training, I have learned that more is not always better.
That patience is a virtue. That one must listen to their body and not
to the goals that their ego has set forth. That it takes your connective
tissues (tendons, ligaments, fascia) much longer than muscle to adapt
to training increases. I have learned that it takes more discipline to
hold myself back from training too much than it does to get out and train.
I have learned that I can sustain an intense training program on a 100%
raw vegan diet with no supplements - and thrive.
The Olympic Marathon Trials were held today in New York's Central Park.
Due to a year of nagging injuries, that prize has eluded me. This has
been a sad day for me, but even more so for those that did make it to
New York. One of America's top marathoner's, Ryan Shay, dropped dead
of heart failure, 5 miles into the race. This was a day of no celebration.
Even those that made the Olympic team would hang their heads and mourn
the loss of one of America's greats, and the loss of one of their friends.
With my marathon hopes now behind me, I have shifted my focus to the
10,000 meter race at the Olympics. The Olympic trials for events held
on the track are not until late June of 2008, which is a much more generous
amount of time to be fully prepared. Now this is quite a bit more ambitious
than my marathon aspirations, as the qualifying time for the trials in
this event is 28:15 – for 6.2 miles!! If that doesn’t sound
scary enough, consider this; the American record for men age 40 and above
is 30:04, and the world record for men 40 and over is 28:30. So in order
for me to simply qualify for the trials in this event, I will have to
smash the American record by nearly two minutes and break the world record
by 15 seconds! In comparison, the qualifying time for the marathon was
9 minutes slower than the American record and 13 minutes slower than
the world record. I’ve got my work cut out for me… But I
believe it’s possible. Citius, Altius, Fortius.
Running Raw will be silent while I'm on the road to Chicago and Vermont.
I've had to sell my laptop to finance the trip, so my blogs and updates
will be down until late November or December when I can get to a desktop
machine.
On one of my last runs in Los Angeles I head back to where it all began.
Ten years ago, upon arriving in LA, and yearning for the mountains and
greenery of Vermont, I was introduced to the magical world of Sullivan
Canyon. This oak and sycamore lined trail is still a favorite to this
day. But travel to trail's end, and you will find yourself in a very
different world - that of the cold war. Lining the tops of the Santa
Monica Mountains were several Nike missle installations, created to protect
Los Angeles from Soviet attack. The cold war may be over, but the relics,
reminding us of our brush with doomsday, still remain.
Come along for a tour, I have a little story about candida that I'd
love to share with you.
Click HERE to
see the video.
Two days before the now raging Malibu wild fires, I decided to get
in a long hard run in Malibu Creek State Park. Of all the traveling that
I've done in this country, and of all the beautiful places I've seen,
MCSP is in my top 5. It's my favorite place in the world to run. The
terrain is some of the most challenging that I train on, but the incredible
vistas take my mind off of the pain and transport me to another place.
A quiet, peaceful perfect place. That place has now been changed forever
by a fire that has so far charred thousands of acres of Malibu and many
of it's most revered destinations. The burn I feel today is that of sadness.
The sadness of losing a good friend, a perfect place.
As I type this, I am looking out my window at one of the most spectacular
sunsets I've ever seen. The view west is filled with dark ominous clouds
of smoke and ash which are playing with the setting sun and amplifying
it's beauty.
Click HERE to
see pics of Malibu before the fire.
It's a beautiful fall day in Los Angeles. A cold front has moved
down from Alaska to temper the constant California sun, there is a light
breeze and plentiful white fluffy clouds in the sky to offer shade. Perfect
running weather. I took this opportunity to test myself against my nemesis
- the Paseo Miramar trail, a 2.5 mile trail which climbs 1500'. I have
blogged about this trail on several other occasions (see links below),
as it has been my yardstick of fitness since this project began nearly
two years ago. In the beginning, a maximum effort would yield a time
of 24 minutes. I dreamed of the day when I might break 20 minutes, for
I thought that level of fitness would allow me to compete on the world
athletic stage. it only took 8 months to break that barrier. Nine months
after that I would set an unbeatable time for this course, well below
that magic 20 minute mark. I have been afraid to attempt a record pace
on this course for the past 10 months, for fear that I would never break
it.
This journey has not been an easy one, and many sacrifices have been
made to keep it alive. For the last two months I have been nearly paralyzed
by intense anxiety as I try to keep this mission moving forward. This
anxiety has made it increasingly difficult to train properly on my "hard" days.
I do not train with a team or with a coach, so it's up to me to get out
there on my own and push myself to the limit every Tuesday and Thursday.
Well, today being a Tuesday, I thought that I would take advantage of
this wonderful weather and do a medium hard run up Paseo. Not hard enough
to really hurt, because my anxiety prevents me from putting myself in
great pain (unless in a race and fueled by adrenaline), but hard enough
to get some benefit. Many of my Tuesday and Thursday runs have been similar
compromises, but they have been advancing my fitness nonetheless.
This run starts at Sunset Blvd and climbs for 2 miles before reaching
the base of the Paseo Miramar trail. Along the way I noticed that I was
feeling quite spry and started to convince myself that an all-out effort
might be possible. Afterall, my recent race victories have demonstrated
increased fitness, so perhaps I should take a shot at my record on the
Paseo trail. I became very excited at the possibility of breaking my
record (set in January 2007), a record that I didn't think could be broken.
When I finally reached the beginning of the Paseo trailhead and looked
up at the long, steep, relentless climb ahead of me I was feeling confident
and decided to go for it.
The pace was fast but not all-out. I was much more comfortable than
I've been on previous record attempts, and told myself that I would ease
myself into the pain gradually. I kept a very quick pace through the
steepest sections of the course and still felt comfortable. At the one
mile point (another course that I use as a test) I checked my watch to
see that I had run my second fastest time ever for the mile, even though
I was running the whole course and not just the mile. I was well below
record pace. Another 400 meters and the vertical "wall" ends
and the trail becomes a roller-coaster of steep ups and downs . I charged
each downhill, flat and uphill with surprising speed considering the
long climb I had just completed. With a half mile to go I glanced at
my watch again, somehow I had slowed significantly, because I only had
3 minutes left to run the very steep last half mile and tie my record.
The thought of having put in all this effort, only to fall short of the
record was quite disheartening. So I put the hammer down. I sprinted
the final section and crested the hill, stopped my watch and collapsed
in a nauseous, hyperventilating heap.
I was afraid to look at my watch for fear I was well off my mark. The
record was 17:32 and I was hoping that I had just nipped it or been only
a few seconds slower, even though I knew I covered that last section
in more than 3 minutes. The watch read 18:04. I was devastated. Physically
broken and devastated. I had given it my all and come up short.
I jogged back down the mountain dejected. When I got to the car I ate
a few bananas, stretched, drank some water and got out my training log
to enter the workout. Just out of curiosity, I flipped back in the log
to find my previous record set in January, a time that I was now sure
I could never beat. I think I let out some sort of scream when I found
the entry - I had remembered the wrong time - my record on this course
was not 17:32, it was 18:32 - i had broken it by 28 seconds - A HUGE
margin on such a short course.
I am nearly 40.
I eat plants.
I am in the best shape ever.
Click HERE to read
my previous Paseo record blog.
Click HERE to
see a video of the Paseo Miramar Trail.
In a race that has been dominated by elite marathoners and road racers
from around the world, I managed to best the field by over 30 seconds.
But more importantly, I became the only runner in the past 5 years to
break the 30 minute barrier on this steep 3.7 mile uphill course.
Click HERE to
watch the video.
Click HERE to
see race results.
In order to make up for my runner's legs in a stair climb race, I've
had to employ new training regimens that allow me to take advantage of
other muscle groups. I've learned to turn a stair climb event into a
total body exercise, which has enabled me to excel in these races.
My exercise of choice - rope climbing using the Marpo Kinetics Viper
Rope Climber. Take a little tour of Venice, CA and watch me demonstrating
this machine at Gold's Gym.
Click HERE to
see the video.
The trail that started the Running Raw Project nearly two years ago
still leaves me feeling humbled when I run it's steep and barren course.
Come along with me as I run this challenging trail and take in the incredible
Los Angeles scenery.
Click HERE to
watch the video.
What a pleasure it was to be interviewed for Celebrating Your Potential
by Revvell Revati. It has to be one of my favorite interviews so far.
We had so much fun and shared so much great information that she asked
me back to do another interview next week.
Click HERE to listen to the
interview.
At 75 floors (1,018 feet high), the US Bank tower in downtown Los Angeles
is the tallest building west of Chicago. For 11 years, this building
held the title of being the tallest building in the world built on a
major seismic zone, until it was surpassed by Tapei 101 in Taiwan in
2004. It's appeared in many Hollywood blockbusters, but most notably
in the 1996 film "Independence Day", where it is the first
building to be destroyed, as partiers raved on it's lofty heliport.
Tower racing, or Stair Climbing as it's often referred to is a uniquely
challenging sport. It involves running, jogging, stepping, crawling or
even crutching up the enclosed stairwells of very tall skyscrapers. These
events attract very large fields of athletes, often in the thousands,
and a wide variety of athletes at the same time. This sport has become
very popular with runners, bicylists, mountain runners, spin instructors,
and skiers, as it requires no special equipment and no new skill sets,
just thighs and nerves of steel. For those who seek the most challenging
way to test themsevles against other extremely fit athletes from various
disciplines, or for those who chose to bring their pain threshold to
a whole new level - this is the sport. I've heard it described as the
feeling one has in their legs, lungs and stomach as they sprint the last
100 meters to the finish of a 5k - but in a tower race this feeling starts
at the beginning of the race and only gets worse as you go higher.
Tower racing has a large international following, with big prize money
at some of the events. There is a core group of American elite athletes
that travel the country competing in these events. So it's never just
a local crowd race, and you can always expect intense competition.
For the first time in my journey, I have managed to train for nearly
4 months without injury. During this time, I have steadily increased
my mileage and intensity. I am in the best shape of my life by far. But
even so, these races scare me to death!
To see how I did, watch the videos below.
Click HERE to
see the Day 1 - High Rise Heroes video. Click HERE for
High Rise Heroe Results.
Click HERE to
see the Day 2 - Elevators are for Wimps video. Click HERE for
Elite and Individual Results.
Pre-race jitters can be a very difficult thing to deal with. I reserve
the day before any big race as a day of relaxation and fun... so I thought
I'd stop in and spend some time with my zany pals over at the G Living
Studios here in Venice, CA. I popped in around lunch time, because they
always have yummy, organic, vegan food to share. Not only do they talk
the talk and walk the walk, but they eat the eat.
When watching this video, "How G is Your Lunch?" I request
that you quietly hum the melody to the BeeGee's song "How deep is
your love" - There is no better way to Be G.
Check out Boise and Sarah at GLiving
Clike HERE to
see the video.
One of the most common critiques i hear of the "raw lifestyle" is
that it's prohibitively expensive and not accessible to those on a budget.
To this I say, hogwash. Although there are man in the raw community that
feel that one cannot survive without exotic superfoods and supplements,
I've found that I have the best performance when I eat the basics. Eating
raw organic produce can be very inexpensive indeed and to demonstrate
this point, I head to the Santa Monica, CA farmer's market to stock up
on great organic produce at bargain basement prices.
Clike HERE to
see the video.
At 8:00am on October 6th, I will be racing up the 1,576 stairs of the
US Bank Tower in downtown Los Angeles. The US Bank Tower is the eighth
tallest building in the US and the tallest building in California. Standing
1,018 feet high, it is also the 26th tallest in the world, and is the
tallest skyscraper west of Chicago and east of New Zealand. Until the
construction of Taipei 101, it was also the tallest structure in a major
active seismic region; its structure was designed to resist an earthquake
of 8.3 on the Richter Scale.
This race is the first of the big 3 tower races; the others being the
Sears Tower (2109 stairs, Chicago) in November and the Empire State Building
(1500 stairs) in February.
To train for these brutal events I've had to come up with a very demanding
training regimen designed to increase leg strength and speed endurance.
Two weekly mountain runs of 60 to 90 minutes give my legs the vertical
endurance they will need. Two weekly all out bursts of 10 minutes on
the stairmaster at the gym are giving me strength and speed. Lastly,
one weekly double ascent of the 55 storey Wells Fargo Tower in downtown
LA is giving me the leg strength and mental toughness needed to excel
in one of these monster events.
Click HERE for
a video of my Wells Fargo Tower ascent.
As I begin to contemplate relocating to another city, the treasures,
contradictions and absurdities of Los Angeles are becoming more and more
apparent. This morning as I prepared my post run fruit snacks I discovered
an opossum sleeping amidst my apples in the kitchen. Twelve minutes later
I was stretching my legs at the stunningly beautiful Santa Ynez Canyon
trailhead. Within a minute of being on the trail, I aggravated and old
shoulder injury as I instinctively changed direction in mid-air to avoid
stepping on a four foot long, 3 inch diameter rattlesnake. When I finally
got my bearings back I was startled by the loud helicopter-like sound
of a family of quail fluttering off the trail. Miles and miles of windy
single track through oaks and sycamore had lulled me into a runner's
high when I came across a doe and her fawn grazing at the side of the
trail, paying me no mind. It was nearly an hour into the run, where the
trail meets the Trippet Ranch trail network that I happened upon the
wildest creature of all - a smiley Britney Spears bouncing along the
trail. There's no other place like this in the world ;)
Click HERE to see my
new opossum roomate.
One year ago I entered the Mt. Baldy Run to the Top for the first time.
It was my first all vertical "mountain" race, and I didn't
know what to expect, nor did I have anything to compare it to. But when
it was over, it was clear to me that this was the most mentally and physically
challenging thing I've ever done. In the year since that race, I've taken
on some pretty grueling and unrelenting courses. The Mt. Washington Road
Race, The Cranmore Hill Climb, and the Squaw Valley Mtn. Run have all
tested my mental and physical limits, and even pushed them to new levels.
But after revisiting the Mt. Baldy race, I can say without a doubt, that
IT is the toughest, most challenging race I've ever done. If an 8 mile
race climbing 4,000' was not enough, consider that the race begins at
6,000' and ends at 10,064', where the air is quite thin. Now throw into
the mix that the last 3/4 mile of the race is at a 20 to 30% slope, stepping
up and over large boulders above tree line. The Mt. Washington Road Race
by comparison gets more gentle in it's grade as the race goes on, and
the "wall" at the finish that everyone marvels at is only 20%
for 100 meters.
My friend Heidi was kind enough to film some of the event. She took
the chairlift from the start to 8,000' which meets the halfway point
of the race and then she hiked the final 4 miles to the finish. She left
nearly 2 hours before our projected finish time, and just missed the
first racer to cross the finish line. I don't think she'll ever volunteer
to film one of these again.
Click HERE to
see the video.
It's always a very nice treat when my friend Brendan Brazier comes
into town. Not only is he one of the few people that can keep up on a
long trail run, but we always have the best conversations about diet,
health, performance and the state of the world. Following a long mountain
run in Malibu, I got Brendan on camera to share some of his vast knowledge
of nutrition. He's more than qualified to speak on the subject, as he's
a best selling author of two books, speaks around the country on this
topic (even in front of Congress), and has competed for many years as
a pro Ironman triathlete. Brendan talks the talk and walks the walk.
Click HERE to see
my talk with Brendan.
The following day I lured Brendan back to Malibu to run in the Bulldog
25k endurance run. This is an extremely challenging mountain run that
uses the same course as the Malibu Creek Trail Challenge that I competed
in this past May. Neither one of us was prepared for this event, so we
ran the first (and most difficult) 7 miles of the race as a hard tempo
workout - with surprising results.
Click HERE to
see our Bulldog 25k video.
My high altitude training continues, with a 10k race at 4700' at Lake
Gregory in Crestline, CA, on the outskirts of LA. This was my first 10k
since March, and I wasn't sure if i'd have the legs to maintain my speed
for the entire distance - especially at altitude. The race really put
the hurt on me, but I had a great time and place none-the-less.
The race winner, Romualdo Sanchez, 36 posted an amazing time of 32:06.
Considering his age and the altitude, this is a phenomenal performance.
Click HERE to
see the video
In 1960, the world was introduced to Squaw Valley, California near
Lake Tahoe, as it hosted the Winter Olympics that year. It was a grand
event that produced many American superstars. Now, 47 years later, it's
still a sight to behold. The best way to to take in the spectacular views
is to run up the mountain in the Squaw Valley Mtn. Run.
Nearly 500 tough souls took on the mountain in this high altitude test
of character. It is only half as long at the Mt. Washington race and
climbs only half the elevation, BUT the race starts at 6200 feet and
climbs to the thin air of 8200 feet. This race nearly did me in. I went
out with the leaders, but couldn't breathe, so I was forced to slow my
pace. The race was won by Gallen Burrell, silver medalist at the world
mountain running long distance championships, winner of the Pikes Peak
Marathon and several time member of the US Mountain Running Team.
Click HERE to
see the video.
One of the great things about living in Los Angeles is the very large
and diverse athletic community. The L.A. Unified School District celebrates
this athletic abundance by hosting the Summer Grand Prix Track Series
on Tuesday and Wednesday nights at two different local high schools.
The competition is fierce as many of the top high school, college and
post collegiate track athletes compete for cash prizes and the bragging
rights of being LA's best.
Since I don't do speedwork in my training, these meets are excellent
preparation for the US Masters Track and Field Championships in Maine.
Click HERE to
see the video
There is a great cross-country running culture in the Latino neighborhoods
of Los Angeles. The running event of the summer in this community is
the Aztlan Track Club's Summer Indian Run. Many of the best cross-country
runners in the Los Angeles area come out to Elysian Park to test themselves
on this very steep and challenging course.
With logs across the trails, mud pits and wide open fire hydrants blasting
the competitors, this race is a blast.
Click HERE to
see the video.
In order to be prepared for the upcoming Mt. Baldy race (8 miles -
6,000' to 10,000' ascent) on September 3rd, I've started to incorporate
runs at high elevation into my schedule. Los Angeles County offers some
of the best high elevation training in the country, with hundreds of
miles of mountain trails at elevations from 4,000 to over 10,000'.
My new plan includes camping every weekend at altitude to take advantage
of the scenery and training.
Click HERE to
see the video.
The Running Raw team duked it out with some of the best runners in
the world today at the Bastille Day 5k in Irvine, CA. Large cash prizes
attracted a highly competitive elite field from all over the US and Africa.
Yes, Africa. Runners from Kenya, Morrocco, Burundi and Ethiopia were
on hand to challenge some of America's best road racers at the 5k distance.
The elite Kenyan runners not only walked away with top honors, but they
walked away singing, dancing and smiling. Perhaps the dominance of Kenyan
athletes in distance running has everything to do with their spirit,
playfullness and downright youthful joy they seem to experience while
running. I've heard so many people say that when they've seen Kenyan
runners racing that it doesn't even seem like they are going hard - it
seems effortless. Perhaps this is the way to greatness - give up the
all too American ideal of "no pain, no gain" and instead adopt
a mindset of - this will be fun and effortless. I think I'll try that
one on and see how it fits.
Click HERE to
see the video.
Everyone seems to have a "rant" these days, so I thought
it was high time that I had mine. After seeing Michael Moore's film "Sicko" I
became sick myself. It wasn't just with the mess our healthcare has become,
but of our people's unwillingness to take responsiblity for their own
health and well-being that really got to me. We are after all a government
of the people by the people - and if the people don't take responsiblity
how can the goverment of their peers?
Click HERE to
see me ranting.
After more than a week of not being able to run due to the intense
leg trauma I suffered in the US Mtn. Running Championships, I decided
to get a good workout in the Will Rogers 5K. This race held in the Pacific
Palisades neighborhood of Los Angeles gathers one of the largest fields
in California, as runners and specatators alike come out to celebrate
this country's independence from Great Britain.
It was a celebrity packed event, but the only person that caught my
attention was Olympic legend Carl Lewis. His 9 Olympic gold medals over
4 consecutive Olympics make him one of the greatest athletes in history.
Carl set the world record in the 100 meters (9.86) at the age of 30,
as a vegan. That's right, Carl had several of his world best performances
eating a vegan diet, dispelling the myth that "power" athletes
need animal protein to build muscle and excel. After a lengthy discussion
about a vegan and raw diet and athletic performance, Carl allowed me
to do a short interview on camera. My apologies for the sound quality.
Click HERE to
see the video.
I went back to New Hampshire one more time to take on the country's
toughest mountain runners in the national championships at Mt. Cranmore
in North Conway, NH. Unlike the Mt. Washington road race which was entirely
uphill, this race featured extreme uphill and downhill sections. We ran
3K from the base lodge of the Mt. Cranmore resort to the top of the mountain
on an easy ski trail, and then 1.6K back down the mountain on a super
steep black diamond ski trail - 3 TIMES!
Learning from my experiences on Mt. Washington, I developed a new strategy
- start slowly and find someone to pace with. I picked Dave Dunham as
my target pacer. Dave has a knack for starting very slowly and smoothly
and then working his way through the pack for the rest of the race. I
know I could count on Dave to get me into top position later in the race
based on his impressive resume: He is a seven-time member of the US mountain
team. He won a silver medal at the world mtn. running championships.
He's the former American record holder at 50K. He qualified for the Olympic
trials (marathon) in 1992 and 2000, and has PR's of 14:08 for 5K and
29:17 for 10K.
The gun went off and I stuck to my plan - I stayed right behind Dave
until the top of the first 3K uphill. When I reached the top, I was in
20th place and felt fantastic. Everyone was being extremely cautious
on the very steep and dangerous downhill section - including Dave Dunham
- So I let it rip. Over the 1.6K downhill, I passed 10 people and moved
solidly into 10th place at the end of the first lap. For the rest of
the story, you'll have to watch the video :)
Click HERE to
see the video.
Click HERE to
read Dave Dunham's post race report (scroll halfway down the page)
After a grueling race up Mt. Washington, my family thought it would
be a good idea for me to get away and relax at our camp in the Aridondack
Park of New York. It's a trip back in time as I explore a magical part
of the country that still embraces many of the ideals and styles of the
19th century.
Clike HERE to
see the video.
One of the perks of making a trip back to New England in Summer are
the gardens at my family’s farm in Vermont.
After being stuck in the city for so long it’s easy to think that salad
grows in a plastic bag. What a pleasure to reconnect with the earth and the
simple yet ancient ways of farming.
Click HERE to
see the video.
The 47th running of the Mount Washington Road Race drew
1000 of the toughest athletes from around the world. Mountain runners,
marathoners, triathletes and cyclists come to test themselves on the
highest peak in the northeastern United States. A mountain that has a
reputation for being one of the deadliest in North America, and for having
the world's worst weather.
The men's race was won by New Zealander Jonathan Wyatt,
the 5 time world champion, Olympic marathoner and course record holder.
On the women's side, Olympic marathoner Anna Pichrtova of the Czech Republic
claimed her 6th straight victory on the mountain, only months after being
in a crippling car accident that nearly ended her elite running career.
I definitely knew who my daddy was when I completed the
mother of all mountain races. The time and place that I had hoped for
may have eluded me, but nonetheless, I left with the result I wanted
- To have a powerful experience, race my hardest, and spread the raw
word to the best of my ability. Next year I will be better prepared.
Click HERE to
see the video.
Click HERE to see an interview
with the race winner Jonathan Wyatt - The
greatest mountain runner in history.
Have you ever heard of blood clots forming in passenger’s legs
during long flights? Is it a myth or reality? Well, one of my subscribers
sent me to a website that has caused me some concern . Check
it out for yourself.
After doing some extensive research, I took some precautions of my own.
Click HERE to
see the video.
Last Hard Workout Before
Mtn. Championships 6/12/07
With the abundance of running trails within minutes
of my house, I hardly ever head into Hollywood to run in the parks there.
The parks in the Hollywood Hills (Santa Monica Mountains) are not only
some of the largest city parks in the country, but they offer incredibly
challenging terrain and some of the best views anywhere.
I'm hoping that the high intensity, low mileage
training that I've been doing for the past few months will provide
me the speed and endurance i need for New Hampshire. This last hard run
is not about putting "money in the bank" so much as it's about staying
sharp and keeping my edge.
Come join me on a crazy hill run in Runyan Canyon
Park in Hollywood.
Click
HERE to see the video.
So. California
Masters Track Championships 6/9/07
More than two decades have passed since my last
high school track meet, but it's never too late to be a kid again. This
was a day full of surprises and inspirational performances, as I watched
world record holders and grand parents alike proving that you are only
as old as you feel.
My quest to be the first 40+ man in the world to
break a 4 minute mile on the outdoor oval may be coming to an end as
an athlete named Jim Sorenson just broke the men's 40+ world record in
the 1500m in 3:44. He may be the first to break the 4 minute barrier.
Click
HERE to see the video.
Rollerblading
to Prevent Injury 6/8/07
My warmup for the Southern California Masters Track
Championships starts the day before the event. Instead of overdoing it
on the road or trails, I incorporate some cross-training in the form
of rollerblading. Yes, I said rollerblading. It's a great way to reduce
impact and repetitive stress injuries and build cardiovascular endurance
and leg strength. Over the past few months I have added 30 to 50 miles
of rollerblading a week to my routine.
Click
HERE to see the video.
Post Workout Smoothie
Recipe 6/6/07
After bouts of long or hard exercise lasting sixty
minutes or more, the body's stores of muscle and liver glycogen can become
depleted. This can significantly effect performance, as the body's main
fuel for exercise is glucose, and the body stores glucose in the form
of glycogen. Run out of glycogen and you run out of gas. So naturally,
one would want to replace the lost glycogen before the next workout.
This is done by consuming carbohydrates, which are broken down into glucose
and are stored as glycogen. The problem is that it can take 48 to 72
hours to replenish glycogen stores, unless you know a little secret.
Sports scientists have recently discovered a small window of time where
glycogen can be quickly absorbed by the muscle tissue. Thirty to sixty
minutes after exercise one should consume a "healthy" portion
of simple carbohydrates (not complex) mixed with a little protein in
a 6 to 1 ratio. Miss this window and you will have to wait a few days
to feel at your best.
Does this mean that you should gobble down sports
bars and electrolyte drinks? Not if you want to be optimally fueled.
The best choice for a post workout re-fueling is a good old fashioned
smoothie. Not your chain-store variety with boosts
of this and that, served in a styrofoam cup and so cold that you get
brain freeze, but the kind that you make at home with fresh fruits and
seeds. Fruits are composed of three main ingredients, water, sugar and
fiber. The water is a no brainer, we need it post exercise. The sugar
is a mixture of glucose and fructose, and the fiber is a mixture of insoluble
and soluble. Fiber is a necessary component in that it regulates the
entry of sugar into the bloodstream, preventing an insulin spike. Turn
a fresh orange into orange juice (by removing the fiber) and suddenly
it jumps way up on the glycemic index. Earlier I mentioned that the body
stores glucose as glycogen, so what does the body do with the fructose
contained in fruit? Well, the liver also contains stored glycogen, but
these stores are different in that they are converted from fructose and
not glucose. The protein component of the smoothie can come from a very
high quality seed such as hemp, which has a complete amino acid profile,
and also supplies EFA's (essential fatty acids). The addition of dulse
flakes (kelp works as well), makes sure that you are replacing the electrolytes
and minerals lost through sweat, without consuming large quantities of
inorganic salt.
My personal favorite organic smoothie recipe:
2 ripe bananas
6 large dates
2 tablespoons Nutiva hemp seeds
1 tablespoon flax seeds
1 tablespoon dulse flakes
1 dash cinnamon
2 cups filtered water
Click
HERE to see the video.
The Brentwood
Run 5/27/07
My strategy of a 5K every weekend continues with
the Brentwood Run. This race attracts large crowds and some of the best
runners in Southern California, which is a great combination to set a
new PR.
Click
HERE to see the video.
Malibu Creek
Trail Challenge
5/12/07
One year after being humbled in one of the toughest
trail races in the country, I take another crack at the Malibu Creek
Trail Challenge. It looks like my knee injury is safely behnd me.
Click
HERE to see the video.
In Search of the Toughest
Workout - Sand Dune Park 5/9/07
Have you ever tried running in the deep sand in
the middle of the beach? Now imagine tilting that beach at a 40% slope
and running up it. That's what awaits the brave souls who enter Sand
Dune Park in Manhattan Beach, CA. I entered the park thinking I could
crank out 8 runs to the top, but I was quickly humbled as I managed to
complete only 6 hills at a snails pace.
Click
HERE to see the video.
Pre-Race Regimen
- The Night Before 5/6/07
Everyone has a pre-race routine. After extensive
research and testing I have come up with a "day before the race" regimen
for optimum performance.
Click
HERE to see the video.
My 39th Birthday Present
- a new PR 5/3/07
The Paseo Miramar fire road has been my nemesis
since day one of this undertaking. It was the first trail that I ran
on as I began this journey, and a year and a half later the thought of
running it still strikes fear in me. It quickly climbs 950 vertical feet
in the first mile, has an average grade of 18% and contains long steep
sections where the grade climbs to over 25% - it's a monster. The surface
is slippery gravel and dried dirty dust, the California sun is relentless
as there is no shade or cover to protect you, and the wind - 1500 feet
above the mighty Pacific, the wind is constant, and never blowing in
the right direction. This trail has been my testing ground since the
beginning. It's where I go when I want to see how well I've been doing.
Today, on my birthday, when I should have been
off celebrating somewhere, I decided instead to put myself to the test.
My warmup was sluggish and tight and I was scared of how slow I might
run. Voices echoed in my head telling me to wait until another day when
I was more rested, but I decided not to listen to them. Last year at
this time, I was again preparing for the US Mountain Running Championships.
As an unknown runner at the time (and not a spring chicken) I had to
prove my worthiness to be allowed into the event. They requested that
I run a course similar to the championship course in steepness
and then submit my time. I chose Paseo Miramar. One year ago, in what
I then considered to be the best shape of my life, I clocked an 8:14
mile in my time trial, which was good enough to get me into the championships.
Since that time I have dreamt about breaking the elusive 8:00 mark, but
all the mileage in the world couldn't get me there. Enter March 2007.
My training reduced to a bare minimum of only "vertical" miles 3 to 4
days a week with one hard uphill workout per week - Paseo Miramar. On
March 4th a miracle happened, I crushed my record in a time of 7:54.
With new found confidence and inspiration I continued with my unorthodox
training regimen. My training has been steady since that time and with
the addition of the 5K races and leg strength I have been hoping that
even with my low mileage my fitness has been improving.
So, back to today
- the dawn of my 39th year, I found myself once again on the most punishing
trail that I know. I started the time trial quickly, too quickly I
thought, but I wanted to see how long I could endure this pace and the
constant and intense leg burn that accompanies uphill running. The higher
I got, the faster I ran, I was actually increasing the pace. A glance
at my heart rate monitor lead me to believe I was in for a slow time,
it read 168. Normally on one of these time trials, my heart races into
the high 170's. So I decided to pick up the pace even more for the last
400 meter stretch, and get my heart rate up to where it belongs. I crested
the summit with a heart rate of 175 and stopped my watch. I was afraid
to look. Maybe an 8:10 I guessed. I looked down at my watch in disbelief.
It read 7:18. I had destroyed my previous best by 36 seconds (in a
one mile event!!) and rated an average heart rate of only 164, which
is well below an all out effort. This looks to be a VERY good year indeed.
The Steepest Street in Los Angeles
4/16/07
In preparation for the US Mountain Running Championships
in New Hampshire this June, I've had to really up the intensity of my
workouts. The usual mountain trail runs with an average grade of 10%
to 12% just won't cut it anymore, so I've taken to the streets - but
not just any streets - the steepest streets in Los Angeles. Nestled in
the hills of the Silverlake and Echo Park neighborhoods lie three streets
that share the honor of being the steepest street in LA, and consequently,
the second steepest street(s) in the country. Fargo Street, Baxter Street
and Eldred Street all have an average grade of 33.3%, a full 2% steeper
than the steepest street in San Francisco. Only Pittsburgh's Canton Ave.
with a brake melting 37% average slope. can top the streets of LA.
The workout proved to be every bit as painful as
I had imagined, 8 sets was all I could handle - In these hills I have
met my match.
Click
HERE to see the video of my tortuous workout.
New training strategy - a 5k race every
weekend 4/7/07
Since the vast majority of my training is uphill
(due to runner's knee), I very rarely if ever get any speedwork done.
The fastest that I can run up my normal 10% to 14% slopes is just a hair
under an 8 minute mile, which is a good three minutes slower per mile
than the marathon pace I need to hit for the Olympics. Although my vertical
running regimen is making my legs very strong, it's not developing speed.
The solution - I've decided to run a 5k race every weekend - but as a
hard workout and not a race. I will do my normal training throughout
the week, including leg strength at the gym the day of the race. I'm
hoping that 3 miles of hard fast running will not aggrevate my knee,
but may help to slowly get it used to flat running again. These races
are merely an opportunity to really push myself and to build speed by
keeping pace with very fast runners. The fact that I'm an endurance runner
and moutain runner and NOT a 5k runner will make this very challenging
as Southern California has many of the best 5k runners in the country.
Let the pain begin.
- Click
Here to see the video of the Whole Foods Santa Monica Classic
5K on May 6th
- Click
HERE to see the TV spot for the above race - Cute.
- Click
HERE to
see the video of the CSUN Run, Walk & Roll 5K on April 28th
- Click
HERE to see the video of the LMU Run for
the Bay 5K on April 21st
- Click
HERE to see the video of the Hermosa Beach 5000 on April
14th.
- Click
HERE to see the video of the Sant Anita Derby
Days 5K on April 7th.
Supreme Master TV
Interview
4/2/07
Supreme Master Television, a large satellite tv
station committed to conscious programming and positive news approached
me to spread the raw gospel around the world. This station has a huge
following in Europe and the Middle East, and a large internet audience
here in the States. What a great opportunity to get this message out
there.
The full interview will be posted here as soon
as I get a copy. To see other programming on their site Click
Here.
Click
HERE to see the video of my post interview
shenanigans.
1st Climb California 3/31/07
Why take the elevator when you can run up 52 flights
of stairs with 500 other crazy souls?
Click
HERE to see the video of my latest tower
racing adventure in San Francisco.
Click HERE to see race
results.
Palm Springs Aerial Tramway
Access Road 3/27/07
In preparation for the 1st Climb California race,
I did one last hard vertical effort - The steep road up to the Palm Springs
Aerial Tramway. At the end of the road you can catch the tram to the
summit of Mt. San Jacinto, which at 10,834' is one of the largest mountain
escarpments in the country. This road is also a great way to prepare
for the upcoming Mt. Washington Road Race in June, as it has nearly the
same slope.
Click
HERE to see the video.
Rhythm of Life 10K, Los Angeles 3/24/07
Well, after 45 days of recovery from my knee injury
in the Catalina Half Marathon, I decided to see how fast I was on flat
pavement. I haven't run on a flat surface nor done speed work since early
February, so this was going to be an interesting test. I viewed the race
as more of a hard workout than a race and i didn't expect much. About
700 people showed up at the starting line, 300 or so for the 5K (run
on the same course at the same time) and about 400 for the 10K. When
the gun went off a few guys shot to the front, I let them go for a little
bit. The pace felt very easy, so I picked it up to catch the leaders.
Before long, it was myself and one other running well in the lead. The
pace was very comfortable even though we were running in the low 5 minutes,
so I picked it up even more. By the time we had reached the end of the
first lap (the end of the 5K race) I was still comfortably in the lead.
As I entered the lap shoot, race officials started yelling at me for
being in the wrong shoot. They were saying "5K finish is to the right!!",
I smiled and yelled out, "I'm in the 10K". They looked dumbfounded as
I passed them, I was a little surprised myself. I didn't expect to do
very well in this race considering my training of 12 to 18 miles a week
(all uphill) for the previous 6 weeks. But alas, I was the first person
across the 5K finish line, and I wasn't even in that race. The runner
that had been close to me ended up being the 5K "official" winner. From
that point on, I was all alone. The next runner was several minutes behind
me, so I just coasted the 2nd lap, and when it was over I was victorious
in a road race for the first time in my life. Good things are on the
horizon.
I plan to continue my uphill running routine as
i prepare for the US Mountain Running Championships in June, but I'll
also start introducing speed work into my routine. I've always believed
that most competitive runners run far too much mileage. This needs to
be investigted further. I'll keep you posted on the results.
Uphill Battle with
Injury
3/15/07
The knee injuries I sustained during the Catalina
Half Marathon have forced me to shift my training and my perspective.
Is it possible to turn an injury into a blessing and create a new training
method that is better than what I had been doing? Is constant vertical
running the answer?
Click
HERE to see the video blog.
Los Angeles Marathon
3/4/07
Sidelined by my knee injury, I decided to offer
my support to runners in the race. I have no regrets, as this afforded
me the opportunity to meet and help some truly inspirational people.
In addition to supporting a few of my runner friends, I also worked with
a group of physically challenged athletes. The memory of their courage
and perseverance will guide me on this journey.
Click
HERE to see my race commentary video blog.
Click
HERE to see an extraordinary group of people standing tall
in the face of adversity.
Mt. Wilson Adventure
2/24/07
On a clear winter day, looking east from the beach,
you can see giant Mt. Wilson rising up from the LA Basin to a height
of nearly 6000'. Topped with radio and TV towers, 4 observatories, a
museum and a paved road to the top, Mt. Wilson is the most civilized
of the massive San Gabriel Mountains. It doesn't take but more than a
minute on one of her many trails to leave the city behind and enter into
an unexpected sylvan paradise.
Join me as I conquer this lofty peak and discover
several of her many treasures.
Click
HERE to see the video.
For the curious, here are some Mt. Wilson
related links:
Catalina Half Marathon 2/10/07
A great race and a great learning experience. Overall
the race was a great success. The course was much more difficult this
year as they added an additional mile of uphill (to a course that already
had 5.5 uphill miles at a 10% grade), but I still managed to shave over
3 minutes off of my time last year. I had been training the entire month
prior to the race in my racing flats, which are designed for racing 1
to 2 miles max. These shoes are incredibly lightweight, but have ZERO
cushioning and ZERO support. I thought that a month of running in these
shoes had made my feet, knees and legs tough enough to race in them.
I was sadly wrong. Although the shoes were very quick on the uphills,
the very steep, rocky and extremely long downhills did some serious damage.
I had to slow down significantly on the downhill sections of the race,
where I had excelled last year. My the time i reached the finish, my
feet were solid blisters and i couldn't bend my knees. So much for my
experiment... There are no shortcuts. ** Post Script** My knees are still
not fully healed as of May 1st 2007.
Click HERE to see race results.
to see images of Catalina Island from the trip, Click
Here.
Empire State Building Race 2/6/07
Racing up the 86 flights of stairs in America's
most iconic skyscraper has become a New York City tradition. This race
attracts athletes from around the world and is essentially the world
championships of tower racing. Nearly 300 of the fittest athletes in
the world clamoring for the title of the world's fastest stair climber...
did i mention it's a mass start through a 3 foot wide doorway?????
Although this race turned out to be somewhat
of a disaster, I'm very pleased with my performance.
Watch the video HERE.
Click HERE to see race results.
