Race Report: Louisville Lovin' the Hills 50k

Hang out with ultrarunners for 30 minutes and you’ll probably realize that they are the worst (best) influences. Race names and distances get rattled off in casual conversation -- Western States, Hardrock, Pine to Palm, 31 miles, 50 miles, 100 miles -- as if they were the names of Grammy winners. This kind of chatter lights a fuse in the brain leading to a single thought, “must register for next ultra.”

As endurance fiends, speedsters, and purportedly reasonable people, Jon Clinthorne and Scott Breeden are, in fact, pro dealers. They sling endorphin like crack rock in Biggie’s day, and I find myself responding “gimme the loot!” when they bring up a race. So when these two started peddling the Louisville Lovin’ the Hills 50k to me, I knew I’d be buying.

The course was originally designed by ultrarunner, Eric Grossman, who must have sought out every quad crushing hill in 20 miles of Louisville for this course. LLTH has had some course changes since he left the race director position, but the race remains one of the most difficult and beautiful 50ks in the country.

5,500 feet of elevation gain

Our band of runners gathered in Louisville and enjoyed a pre-race meal at Za’s Pizza on Bardstown Rd, which is a great Louisville neighborhood for finding food, drinks, and shopping. I never feel more relaxed than when I’m with running friends, for the conversation is always good and spirits high. The Bell’s Hopslam they had on tap didn’t hurt either.

Morning of the race, after a geriatric breakfast -- Ensure, bowl of cereal, and greek yogurt -- I was ready to run. Packet pickup was right at the race start, making for a very low stress pre-race. I skipped around to warm up in the 30F temps and made a last minute shoe choice of Rogue Fly over Peregrines because the possible muddy conditions were actually frozen and firm. The race director, Cynthia Heady, shouted out directions from atop a picnic bench to the 250ish runners doing the three different races (6mi, 15mi, 50k), which all started at the same time. Becky was doing the 15mi, and Scott and I were doing the 50k.

Feeling skippy. Photo: Jon Clinthorne

Someone yelled GO and we ran down a wide gravel road, good for seeding yourself in the pack before hitting the single track. I hung back from Scott and the leaders and found good company with Becky for a few miles before she started absolutely crushing the steep switchback hills, and although I could sort of keep up with my power hike, she was flying on the flats too. Go Becky go! We ended up going back and forth and running together for a while with some runners who were up for some smiles and laughs.

L-R: Becky, Me, Jeff, Scott. Photo: Jon Clinthorne

I was glancing at bib numbers for 6/15/50k people, and some 15mi runners were passing me along with a couple 50kers on the flats but I reminded myself to keep it easy early on. There was plenty of race to catch them and I had my secret pow hike for the late climbs.

After a 6 mile loop, I came through the start/finish area and was greeted by hearty cheers from Alaina, Cody, Jon, and Hillary. Around the 10 mile mark I'd caught up to Becky who was climbing a hill behind another 15mi guy who was super happy and positive. I passed on the uphill and kept moving, passing some 50k guys on another uphill. I thought I was in 6th or 7th now and feeling really good. The pain was lurking, but quiet.

Finishing the first 6mi loop. Photo: Jon Clinthorne

Around a few more bends, I ran up to a couple 50k guys. I started talking with Jeff Yoder who turned out to be a friend of Scott's. We shared stories and he was awesome running company. Jeff remarked on staying on top of nutrition, so I downed a couple gels. I had 6 gels with me, 3 in my handheld bottle and 3 in my shorts. There are periods in every race when I fall behind on nutrition and these times rarely coincide with aid station locations.

After a road crossing we were climbing yet again and I started pulling away from Jeff. My legs were feeling really strong on the climbs and my power hike was groovin. I hit the ridge on the Siltstone trail and took in the beauty. The views on both sides of the ridge were awesome, the ground cascading away and the lumpy horizon visible through the naked trees. Long dry grasses grazed my calves and the wind rushed over them with a shhhhhhhhhhh. It seemed I was all alone up here.

Every time the course's relentless hills started chewing into my legs and lungs and I wanted to slow down, I thought to myself, 'what if this is the last race I ever get to do?' With Jon sidelined by injury for this race, that mantra kept me in the moment, focused on this incredible experience and how lucky I was to be here.

The trail pitched back down to Scott’s Gap aid station, so I refilled my bottle and started up a steep, washed out climb that began a 3ish mile loop. I caught a 50k guy that I hadn’t seen since the start. We wished each other good running and I tried to keep up the pace and create some distance. The vistas opened up and there was large rock underfoot, reminiscent of last year's Smoky Mountain run adventures.

Back at Scott's Gap aid, I started the out-n-back section where runners heading out would be passing. Runners were telling me "good job" and "nice work" and I returned the encouragement. The level of camaraderie out there was incredible. "2nd and 3rd are just ahead!" many shouted, so on top of Siltstone, I tried to keep up 8m/m pace on the flatter stuff and bomb down the descents.

I finally saw the 3rd place runner, Harvey Lewis, at the Welcome Center with a few miles to go. The closest I got was at an aid station, but then he took off up the hills and I was cramping in my quads, groin, and hamstrings. If I pushed any harder I risked cramping to the point of walking, so I kept running where I could, pow hiking the steep climbs, and running right on that razor's edge.

As I climbed another 200'+ hill at mile 30, my legs were collapsing, nails surging into my quads, and I was breathing like a horse. Harvey was out of sight around a few corners.  At the top of the hill, I saw the RD who said I had one1 mile to go. Ok, I'm sure that was the last hill. NOPE. The trail went down to the dam and then came the final pitch upward, a 230’ hill over the last ¼ mile. I could see Harvey again up the switchbacks, but he was too far to catch. So close!

So happy to be done! Photo: Clinthorne

I crossed the line in 4th place overall at 4:42 and gave Scott a slap and then got an awesome greeting from Alaina and Cody pup. I was totally spent and couldn’t believe my legs hadn’t seized up. I went into this race with a 50 mile race mentality because I knew how hard it would be, and this race lived up to its name and reputation.

LLTH is well organized, perfectly marked, and attracts incredible runners for competition. I’d definitely head down there again. The RD said Ultrarunning Magazine would be covering the race, so I hope this brings even more runners down to experience the beautiful and challenging trails.

Scott Breeden won the 50k, destroying the course record in 4:07. Jeff Yoder finished 7th overall in the 50k. Becky Boyle won the 15 mile race and also set a course record. Katie Yoder earned 3rd OA in the 6 mile race. Jonathan Clinthorne, Hillary Woodworth, Alaina Neary Case, and Cody kept everyone in high spirits all weekend. This was an incredibly fun experience that will keep me smiling for a long long time.

Me, Becky, Scott, Alaina, and Cody. Photo: Clinthorne

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

SOD: Best Coast -- The Only Place

Happy New Year! It's been a great 2012. This year, I made new running friends, got a promotion at work, finished my first 100 miler, run-explored the trails in Kentucky, Tennessee, Connecticut, Colorado, Michigan, Ohio, Delaware, Pennsylvania, and Indiana. Some of my best memories were running in Red River Gorge, Pictured Rocks, Great Smoky Mountains, Tecumseh trail, and the Rocky Mountains.

So here's a song about loving where you are and realizing how lucky you are to be right there. For Best Coast that place is California, and they love the waves, the mountains, etc. But the song's not about why CA is awesome and everywhere else sucks. Not to me anyway. It's about being in love with your place, wherever you are.

Produced by pop guru (and underrated), Jon Brion, the title and lead track off Best Coast's 2012 album celebrates everything I love about the band. Tight melodies, hooks that can make crowds smile, and a bouncy rhythm section that is undeniably fun.

"Why would you live anywhere else?" sings Bethany Cosentino.

I have no idea.

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.

How Do I Blog My Workouts?

For the last four years, from when I started working out, I've logged my workouts on beginnertriathlete.com.  It's been a fantastic resource, and I've made friends through the forums, received and given inspiration to other triathletes, and learned a lot about the sport.

But I'm not really a triathlete any more.  I haven't done a tri since August, 2011.  Today I followed the live athlete tracking and live video feed (at Ironman Arizona) of some triathletes I know, and some I've only known online, and some pros that kick ass and have a great attitude and I cheer for them, if only virtually.  But throughout 2012, following these great athletes from race to race, being invested in the spectacle of Kona, and wondering whether this would make me want to race a tri again, I've realized that I still have zero interest in doing another triathlon in the coming future.

Of course, like anything else, this could change in a matter of months.  But for me, it's more unlikely that I'll return with every passing month that I stay away from the sport.

So I don't really feel comfortable posting on beginnertriathlete.com any longer.  I'd rather write a blog about my running on here, allow it to be for myself any anyone who wants to stop by, but not necessarily connected to triathlon, since I'm probably going to be doing solely ultras for a while.

But I like tracking my mileage, time running, pace, vert gain, etc because they are metrics that can be useful for self-reflection.  What did I do the weeks leading up to a race?  What did I do before my latest injury?  What shoes was I running in?

So I need a gadget for blogger, a tracker that is easy to add to this blog, where I can log my runs in terms of time, distance, and pace, and that keeps my totals for the year.  BT's tracker had this and I found it inspirational and good for reflection.  Anyone have something like this that they recommend?

Examples of the BT logs: