Race Report: Yankee Springs 50k Trail Run

How could a race plan this good possibly go wrong? It's like going to the thrift store for an '80s theme party costume. Shoo-in.

Step 1 - Rent heated cabin at race site for the weekend with running friends.
Step 2 - Run a 50k trail race
Step 3 - Celebrate with food, bonfire, and booze.
Step 4 - Run more trail the next day and invite Cody pup along this time.

It's bulletproof. Even if the rustic cabin that sleeps five is 10' x 20' and the beds sink like hammocks. Even if the temps are in the 20s. You're with good people who like to run! Boom, win.

Putting the rustic in cabin life

Tim, Julie, and Jon arrived Friday night and set up gear in the cabin. Jon and I enjoyed some pre-race drinks, and then headed out with Cody into the night to test our shoes on the trails. Discovery: the trails were hard packed with runnable snow, so no yaktrax on the Peregrines. Tomorrow would be a fast day.

Admission: I hate race morning until the start gun goes off. But here, waking up an hour and a half before the 9am start, rolling out of bed, and knowing the start is only 1/8 mile away is fantastic. Total stress killer. We headed to the start 20 minutes before the gun, met up with a crew of BTers -- the fantastic Kimm, Kathleen, and Dave -- and then some people I'd never met IRL and tried to warm up the sticks with some butt kicker drills.

The RD yelled "GO" and we took off. Jon and I were among the lead pack until the first trail crossing where someone yelled "wrong way!" and we all tried to turn back, but I was on ice, so I slipped and hit the deck. Ok, nothing hurts, keep running. Jon took the lead up the first hill, and I followed. We were moving very quickly. 7:00/mi on the downhills and only a little slower on the up. I knew it was too fast, but I was so relaxed, breathing felt great and so did my legs.

After a mile, the snow-covered gravel road hit the single track, so there was plenty of space early race to seed ourselves. Jon pulled away after a few miles and I convinced myself that I needed to run my own race and slow down to a pace that I actually had a snowball's chance in hell of holding. After a few more miles, a guy passed me like Hermes (swear he had winged feet) and took off after Jon, seeing that I wasn't interested in keeping contact with the leader.

Smooth, hardpacked snow, just a little icy:

Photo Credit: Ben VanHoose

A few miles later I glanced back down the trail to see who else is holding steady at 7:15/mi average pace. Only one guy back there in blue, so it looked like we'd be duelling it out for 3rd and 4th. Aight, keep the effort easy, breathe, talk to this guy, maybe make a friend. Turns out, dude in blue -- Noah -- is running the 25k! Hooray! I told him that was the best news I'd heard all day.

He was great company, so we chatted for a while about trail racing and miles clicked by super fast. The pace slowed since we were in the hilly back half of the 25k loop. I was almost to the 13 mile point when we hit this section with switchbacks and I could see other runners. Oh damn, time to kick it up. I pulled away from Noah and ran solo the rest of the race.

Me and Noah past 6mi aid station manned by Ben VanHoose:

Photo Credit: Ben VanHoose

Came into the start/finish mile 15.5 at 1:54. On pace for a sub-3:50. Hmmm, that's a lot fast. I swapped out my one just-finished bottle at the drop bag area, though I should've had a separate handheld with full bottle ready. I fumbled and lost 30 seconds getting the new bottle into my handheld with popsicle fingers.

I decided early-race to keep 10 mile splits on the Garmin. It seemed like a manageable distance to attack mentally. First 10 miles I was doing great, and by the next 10 miles I'd only slowed 5 seconds per minute per mile. I'm definitely bleeding pace, but it's not a hemorrhage. Put a tourniquet on that shit and let's start racing.

Photo Credit: Ryan Heidenfeld

At mile 21 I hit Ben's aid station and was feeling pretty dehydrated. I couldn't decide whether I needed my bottle filled, the thoughts wouldn't congeal, so obviously I really needed water. Took down some coke and gatorade and left with a full bottle and promised myself I'd drink often and finish that bottle. Ben said I was 4 minutes behind Jon. Didn't mention the other guy. I thanked him and pressed on.

The mileage and time were going by really slowly now. I was trapped in my brain with hurting legs, elevated heart rate, and no distraction. I wanted my ipod so bad right now! Why didn't I bring it?! Don't panic, just keep thinking, 'less than 8 miles, just one Huron River loop. You've done this a million times. You're not 23 miles into a race, you're on Huron parkway, running downhill on your favorite stretch of road.' It was a band aid. And the blood was starting to seep through.

A couple that was hiking the trail told me I was in 2nd place. Wha?! What happened to the two in front? That definitely lifted my spirits, but I know you can never trust what people tell you out there. Hang on, keep pushing it. I wondered for a spell whether this much pain was actually healthy for a person. I sang Kishi Bashi's "Bright Whites". Nothing helped. I was in the pain cave.

I wanted to throw my Garmin into the woods so I'd stop looking at it and seeing the pace shuffle backwards.  Less than 3 miles to go. Where was the surge of energy I'd stashed in my tights? Spent it long ago. Thought I was running on credit, but I always pay cash on the trail. And the green was gone.

The last mile, with its final, sinister little pitch upward, didn't give me any energy either. My legs were done, my bottle empty and gels kicked. I left everything I brought to this race out on the course. As I crossed the finish I shouted, 'Am I done?' I was half serious, half not so with it. I collapsed with hands on knees, awash with happiness and pain. I saw Jon and congratulated him on the win -- and the course record!

I got 2nd place overall! How did that happen?! And a 24 minute PR with a 3:50, just 30 seconds shy of going under the course record. That's 7:25/mi average...where in the hell did that come from?!

Neither Jon nor I knew what happened to the other guy who had taken off ahead of Jon on the first loop. Several minutes later the front runner in question, Jordan Lafreniere, came through and told us he got lost and couldn't get back. Damn, that sucks.

I picked out a sweet Montrail toque as my prize and snow globe award then headed to the cabin for warm dry clothes, celebratory whisky + beer + food. We cheered runners as they came through the cabin campground and told race and running stories. This is what it's all about. The hard work is over, the proof is in the pain, and now we celebrate.

Tim came through the camp with a strong finishing kick and we gave him hearty cheers. Then it was off to the finish to catch Alaina. She was beautiful. Just finished her first ultra. So happy for her!

Alaina on course in her first ultra:

Photo Credit: Ryan Heidenfeld

We all went to the main cabin lodge for delicious chili and two roaring fireplaces for more running stories, joined by Dave Potter and then Ben. Lots of stories and ultra talk. Man, I love this scene.

As the light faded, we moved to the outdoor bonfire pit, roasting food, celebrating with drinks and talking to cabin neighbors. Yep, this camaraderie keeps me racing.

We capped off the weekend with a 10 mile out-n-back the next day with Alaina, Jon, and Cody on the gorgeous, hilly back half of the course, going easy and stopping to enjoy the views we'd missed during the race. A fresh covering of snow was a nice treat too.

I highly recommend the Yankee Springs races. They're well organized, the events start on time, it's a fast course with some hills, and you're on awesome trails with a mix of pines and old growth hardwoods, and almost all of the course is single track. I'd definitely race here again.

Happy Running!

Jon, Me, Cody, and Alaina after our tenner

It's All About the (F)un

I got my fat ass off the couch and started training for triathlons in 2008 after 27 years of little athleticism in the traditional sense. I didn't swim, bike, or run, and I rather hated the idea of sports. In high school, people I knew who participated in sports seemed so serious, intense, and anti-fun.

In middle school I played basketball (not well) and tried cross country and track for a few weeks but got attacked by bees during practice and was regularly trounced at events, so after 8th grade I turned my back on sports. I joined drama club and choir and found friends who didn't like sports either.

The one exception to my no-sports rule was skiing. In high school and college, I loved skiing and being in the mountains, even if the mountains were often smallish hills in New York's Finger Lakes region, and even if one of my favorite reasons to go skiing was to smoke on the ski lift and party after a day on the slopes.

Alaina and I especially loved glade skiing -- through the trees -- on our trips to the northeast, to gems like Jay Peak and Mad River Glen. There was no greater experience than being knee deep in untouched powder, feeling totally alone, and finding the quiet of pines in unreal beauty. This was my idea of fun.

For me, skiing wasn't a sport. It was a lifestyle, albeit one I participated in irregularly and not incredibly well. But it couldn't be a sport to me, because it was so much fun and I didn't have to play by anyone else's rules.

I chose my line, my trail, my jump. No coach hollered at me, and my friends celebrated my small victories, like landing a dropoff, as often as I celebrated their daffies. Of course there was competition between friends, and we all knew where we ranked as skiers, but no one won and no one lost.

One thing I learned from skiing is that above all, athletics should be fun.

After college, I landed a demanding job teaching high school English, and I got fat and we lived far from ski mountains in San Diego. Even though I surfed, played a couple hours of beach volleyball some weekends, and mountain biked once a week, I hadn't found a substitute for skiing (didn't help that I have an intense fear of sharks).

Then we moved to Michigan and I hated it. To me, the state was cold, dark, flat, and even farther from decent mountains. I was fatter than ever and looking to change my career, my attitude, and my lifestyle.

So in May of 2008, I signed up for my first triathlon, a sprint distance in June. Hey, if Alaina could do this stuff then so could I. Who cares if I can't swim, don't own a bike, and can't run? It's better than getting even fatter.

The race went as expected: I panicked in the open water, biked as hard as I could and still got crushed, and walked the hills on the run. But the seed was planted. Sure, I had to follow rules and I was leery of the competitive aspect of it, but I was back outdoors, pushing myself toward my own goals, and for the first time, celebrating a lifestyle of fitness.

Triathlon became really fun once I lost 50 pounds and picked up enough speed to keep up with Alaina and my training buddies. Learning to swim gave me self-confidence, as did overcoming panic in the open water. I got comfortable on the bike and loved the feeling of riding at 20+ mph on my own power over hills and through the countryside. But the run was where I felt joy like I had when I was skiing.

I loved getting lost in my head while running on rolling country roads and feeling the runner's high when running fast on flat terrain. I started adding trail running in the woods to my training, and when my legs felt good I was having as much fun on dirty single track as I had in the powdery glades.

By the end of 2011, I'd finished an Ironman, a dozen half-Ironman races, and a bunch of Olympic and Sprint distance triathlons, in addition to running Boston-qualifying marathon times and completing shorter running races. But the tri fun was dying after 3 years of going to the boring pool and fearing for my life on the bike with all the angry drivers. All I wanted to do was run trails.

In November, I decided 2012 would be the year for ultrarunning. I signed up for Leadville Trail 100 Run spontaneously and started trail running every day. The fun had returned, and with it, a new sense of adventure, for I was discovering the extensive local Ann Arbor trail system and I was exploring the woods as I had loved to do when we were glade skiing.

Gone was the fear of being hit by a car as well as the dread of going to the pool. The vibe at trail races was so much more mellow and the people spoke often about their love for the woods, the adventure, and the excitement of taking on a 50 or 60 or 100 mile distance all on foot, when you never know what is going to happen to your body and mind over that time, terrain and distance.

I know that more trail running adventures are ahead in 2013 (and maybe beyond), but more importantly, this year I've realized once again that when it comes to sport, it's all about the (F)un.

The Perfect Marathon Playlist

Every long distance runner knows that the crux of your marathon preparation really comes down to whether or not you can compose the perfect marathon run playlist.  Forget the intervals you blew off when you were hung over.  Never mind the long runs you couldn't do because you got injured.  If the right song comes on at the right time during your marathon, you will become Haile Gebrselassie.  Wrong song?  You'll spend the rest of the race trying to spell, and then pronounce, his name correctly.

Haile commands, "your playlist shall not suck"

Sure, we list-making/mix-taping marathoners don't have it as bad as they did in the '80s, when runners were locked down by their cassette tapes and walkmen, forced to either listen to an entire song or fumble with the FF button and wait impatiently before guessing where the start of the next song was.  The iPod's click-ability and ample memory allows you to put a bazillion songs on the device and navigate through them, but a sloppy mishmash of songs is still annoying at best and worrisome at worst.  You're not going to look forward to your next song with confidence when you're not sure if you put a string of 25 electronic dance jams on there, especially when right now you're hurting for that filthy Zep riff on "The Ocean".

So how does one compose the perfect marathon playlist?

1. Visualize your marathon.  The race has highs and lows, times to get amped up and times to zone out, times when you need a laugh and times when you sacrifice a few salty drops to the asphalt.  You can't predict these times precisely, but you can set a working soundtrack to your day. 
2. Don't get predictable with alternating fast/slow songs or picking only songs that have 180bpm or whatever.  That will suck the life out of your playlist.  Let your playlist tell a story, let it go for a ride, let it breathe.
3. Listen to your playlist at least once all the way through to make sure it is awesome, but don't listen to it every run or the songs and the tracking could lose their punch on race day.  
4. Don't let someone else (or your ego) make your playlist.  Remember in the Goonies when Mikey says, "this is our time, down here"?  This is your time. And it all ends if you take a ride up Troy's bucket.
5. For the majority of your list, go with the battle tested songs that you love, rather than this week's latest release.  A marathon is emotional, and you need the songs that have been there for you all the way.

This weekend I'm running the Red, White, and Blue marathon thanks to Jon Dix, who unfortunately couldn't run due to injury, but graciously offered to transfer his bib for the race's very reasonable transfer fee.  Thanks Jon, heal up soon!

Here's my Perfect Marathon Playlist for this race:

Animal Collective -- "What Would I Want, Sky?"
Bruce Springsteen -- "Badlands"
Led Zeppelin -- "The Ocean"
Langhorne Slim -- "The Way We Move"
Arcade Fire -- "Keep the Car Running"
Elvis Costello -- "Chelsea"
Japandroids -- "Fire's Highway"
M83 -- "Midnight City"
Sleigh Bells -- "Comeback Kid"
Beastie Boys -- "Sabotage"
Nine Inch Nails -- "Head Like a Hole"
Alabama Shakes -- "Hold On"
Raphael Saadiq -- "Stone Rollin'"
Beyonce -- "Best Thing I Never Had"
Foster the People -- "Pumped Up Kicks"
Stevie Wonder -- "As"
Jay-Z and Kanye West -- "Ni**as in Paris"
The Replacements -- "I Will Dare"
Grizzly Bear -- "Yet Again"
The Clash -- "Rudie Can't Fail"
The Horrors -- "Endless Blue"
Tallest Man on Earth -- "Wind and Walls"
The Walkmen -- "Song for Leigh"
Wilco -- "Art of Almost"
Beck -- "Devil's Haircut"
Bloc Party -- "Like Eating Glass"
The Thermals -- "Now We Can See"
Neutral Milk Hotel -- "King of Carrot Flowers Pt. 1"
DJ Shadow -- "The Number Song"
Stevie Wonder -- "I Wish"
The Vaccines -- "Wetsuit"
New Order -- "Blue Monday"
Hold Steady -- "Stuck Between Stations"
Kanye West -- "Stronger"
The Killers -- "Mr. Brightside
Spoon -- "The Underdog"
LCD Soundsystem -- "All My Friends"
Lotus Plaza -- "Monoliths"
Modest Mouse -- "Doin' the Cockroach"
Nirvana -- "In Bloom"
Notorious BIG -- "Things Done Changed"
Outkast -- "Bombs Over Baghdad"
Phoenix -- "1901"
Bruce Springsteen -- "Backstreets"
Sly and the Family Stone -- "Sing a Simple Song"
Radiohead -- "Myxomatosis"
Tool -- "Parabola"
Rage Against the Machine -- "Calm Like a Bomb"
Sleigh Bells -- "Crown on the Ground"