Running

It was a good month. I ran my first two mountain races and bounced back quickly from both. Two more long runs made 3 weekends in a row I ran 4+ hours with 4,000+ ft of climbing. I’ve steadily improved my time at the local bi-weekly Towers Time Trial (1,700 ft ascent in 3.4 miles run all out). I was hoping to get in another long race (50+ miles) this year, but there’s a number of 50K, marathon, and half marathon trail races in the coming months. And, to be honest, I’m better at those distances anyway.

Cycling

Walking/Hiking

Last week I overhead a local runner mention that registration was still open for the Leadville Trail Marathon on Saturday. Perhaps a bit too embiggened by successfully doggy paddling through my first high altitude race at Pilot Hill, I thought I may as well jump into the deep end.

It really doesn't take much to talk me into a race. I'm sort of easy like that.

— Rob Raguet-Schofield (@ragfield) June 11, 2014

The marathon starts in Leadville at 10,200 feet above sea level (higher than I’ve ever run before) and goes up from there. The course consists of three big mountain climbs, the highest of which tops at at 13,185 feet. It was an excuse to race, an excuse to go back to Leadville (we briefly visited on our vacation last summer), an excuse for Melissa to get in a high altitude training run before she tackles the Estes Park Marathon next weekend, and an excuse to drive through some of the most beautiful scenery in the country.

Goodbye, oxygen. pic.twitter.com/HZMMw1Evhb

— Rob Raguet-Schofield (@ragfield) June 14, 2014

We arrived for packet pickup on Friday. After a couple hours at that elevation I got a headache (just like last summer). This didn’t bode well. That night I was getting winded walking back and forth in our hotel room. I didn’t sleep well. But when I woke up I felt like a hundred dollars. Game on.

I’m short of breath walking back and forth across my hotel room. Tomorrow’s marathon tops out 4,000 ft higher. Nice knowing you.

— Rob Raguet-Schofield (@ragfield) June 14, 2014

A late trip to the porta potty left me pretty far back at the start line of 1100 combined marathon and half marathon runners. No matter, I was fully intending to start slowly, as I had yet to run farther than across the street at that altitude. I honestly had no idea how my body would react.

Well, it was a bit ridiculous. People were running far slower than even my slowest estimate, so I worked my way up the outside. There were people who started near the front who stopped to walk after just a half mile. I spent the first 1.5 miles passing a couple hundred people. As the marathon runners split apart from the half marathon runners I counted the people ahead of me and I was 29th marathoner.

I wasn’t running super fast, but my legs and breathing felt reasonably good at this point. My mouth and throat were super dry from the parched air. This made it difficult to drink my somewhat sugary sport drink. So I got behind on hydration early in the race. That was a bit unexpected.

I ran (slowly) the first climb while several people in front of me starting hiking. By the first downhill section I was up to 20th place or so. I picked up a few more on the downhill then a few more as we began the push toward the first mountain summit.

During the early miles I was gradually catching up to one runner who looked fairly distinctive. He was wearing Hoka shoes and shirt, in his 40’s, clean cut. After chasing for a few miles I finally caught and passed him just before the summit. Of course, he blew past me on the descent, but I would catch back up later. I had made it as high as 11th place (I could see 5th-10th place within 100m of me) before dropping back a bit.

Melissa and Will were waiting for me at one of the aid stations just at the start of the climb up to Mosquito Pass, the high point on the course. I kept right on moving with a slow jog on the easier grades and as fast a hike as I could manage on the steeper grades. I came into the race fully expecting to hike (rather than run) most of this climb. It’s long, steep, and at very high altitude. My friend in the Hoka gear left me in the dust at this point. A few other marathon runners and I leapfrogged each other.

The bigger ordeal was that the marathon and half marathon runners were now on the same course again, mixed together. But the marathon runners had covered about twice the distance by this point, so we were mixing it in with significantly slower runners. This wasn’t a problem early on in the climb where the trail was wide, but toward the top the trail became much more narrow and I was frequently held up trying to pass people with two-way traffic on the narrow trail.

After a long, arduous hike I reached Mosquito Pass (13,185 ft), took a selfie, and turned around and ran down. I was expecting the descent to be super fast and relatively easy. I was wrong on both accounts. The footing was terrible with lots of large loose rocks. There was two-way traffic on a relatively narrow trail. But my biggest problem was every time I tried to run fast (which should have been easy on a long downhill) I had fairly intense discomfort beneath my ribs. It wasn’t exactly my lungs, nor my stomach, but it was something, and it prevented me from getting up to any kind of speed.

And that was just the beginning of my woes. After several miles of descending I had absolutely nothing left in my legs once I started back up the final mountain climb. I was expecting to run most (if not all) of it, just like I did on the way out, but I hiked every step. A couple times I tried to take a step forward and almost ended up going backward. It wasn’t pretty. This was the first section of the race where I couldn’t see anybody either in front of me or behind me. I was all alone for a solid mile up this interminable climb.

Then as I neared the top, a pack of six guys passed me like I was standing still. Oh right, there’s a race going on. It was mostly downhill from there to the finish so I tried to get the wheels rolling again. I did okay until one last final uphill section where I struggled. Then it was all downhill to the finish. Except I couldn’t go because of the discomfort in my ribs/lungs/stomach area. I ran the last two miles at 6:40-6:50 pace and people were still passing me. There was a stiff headwind on the long final straightaway, prolonging my pain.

By the finish I had dropped to 28th place. I’m okay with that, even if it’s a far cry from where I was early in the race. I looked at the results and verified a few time checks before I came to the stunning realization that my friend in the Hoka gear was Dave Mackey (2011 Ultrarunner of the year). And then it hit me like a big fucking mountain (I may have literally slapped my own forehead), I screwed up. Big time. I had no business running with, much less passing, a runner of his caliber that early in the race. I didn’t feel like I was running too fast, but I was. It came back to bite me late in the race when I had trouble moving forward up the final mountain climb.

My time of 4:41:46 makes this my slowest marathon finish, though that was to be expected given that this was by far the most difficult course I’ve run. Surprisingly, I had less soreness in my legs after this race than just about any marathon I’ve ever run (I was prepared for the worst), though the soreness in my glutes (which I’ve never experienced before) may have made up for it.

Now that I’m a bit wiser and more experienced, I’d certainly be interested in coming back and racing in Leadville again. I think I could do things better the next time around.

Pilot Hill 25K Classic

With all the training I’ve been doing it would be a shame not to throw a race in the mix. I’ve been a little apprehensive about doing so, though, due to, well, fear of sucking.

A bunch of people from Fort Collins were heading up to Laramie, WY for the Pilot Hill 25K (the oldest footrace in Wyoming) on Saturday, so I thought I might as well give it a go. On our way through Laramie we passed the University of Wyoming track, which sported the greeting “Welcome to 7220.” Feet. As in, “Welcome to high elevation. Good luck, buddy.”

This race seemed simple enough: 2 miles flat, 6.5 miles uphill, 6.5 miles downhill. Wait, what? I’ve never raced that far uphill or that far downhill. I’ve never started a race more than 800 ft above sea level. What have I gotten myself into?

“What have I gotten myself into?” — @ragfield (Elevation: 7200 ft) pic.twitter.com/s9ziLXvgey

— Melissa Ⓥ (@melissa_raguet) June 7, 2014

A high double digit number of participants toed the start line and we were off.

pic.twitter.com/fytouoF4h4

— Melissa Ⓥ (@melissa_raguet) June 7, 2014

I started easy/cautious/scared shitless. My breathing was labored. Having just moved up into the top 10 I covered the first mile in just under 7 minutes. I was already struggling. I moved up a couple more places before we started the 6.5 mile long, 1600 ft climb to the top of Pilot Hill. As if the elevation and the ascent weren’t enough, we faced a stiff headwind the entire way up the hill. Welcome to Wyoming. I was moving in slow motion. It was demoralizing.

Around 8500 ft I started to get side stitches pretty bad. I struggled the rest of the way to the top, minutes behind the runners ahead of me, though not as far back as I was expecting. Maybe they’re half-human after all.

I took a quick drink of water at the aid station at the top before I turned around and bombed the downhill. I clicked off a bunch of 6:15 miles before the trail started to level out and I slowed a bit. I was starting to catch the runner in front of me, but at one point he simply vanished (I later found out he took a wrong turn). I maintained the status quo on the descent, not gaining any time on the 5 runners remaining ahead of me, while putting a few minutes into the next closest runners behind me.

Nick Clark takes the win pic.twitter.com/NfZXuqIBfV

— Melissa Ⓥ (@melissa_raguet) June 7, 2014

We moved from sea level 2.5 wks ago, and @ragfield proves he can run w the big guys. 6th place overall, 1st shirtless pic.twitter.com/uY853efdNE

— Melissa Ⓥ (@melissa_raguet) June 7, 2014

I finished 6th place, 1st shirtless (it got hot by the end…). It was as good as I could have hoped to do. It was hard. Well, all races are hard, but this was hard in a slightly different way than most races I’ve done. Despite the big climb, this race was less hard on my legs and more hard on my lungs (if that makes any sense).

So now that my fears of racing at high elevation have been somewhat alleviated, I decided on a whim to jump into the deep end and run the Leadville Trail Marathon this coming weekend. It starts over 10,000 ft and climbs a couple of mountains up to 13,185 ft. The last time I decided to run a marathon a few days before the race it went pretty well. I don’t know what this weekend will have in store for me. But hey, what’s the worst that could happen?

May has brought big changes. We moved across the country to Colorado. Since the terrain here is much different I’ve added ascent to my Running and Cycling charts below

Running

The problem with racing is that it interferes with training. In May I took some time off from racing and as a result I put in a serious block of training. I took a few days off in the middle of the month for our move, then hit the ground running in Colorado. I ran more miles in May than any other month on record, while at the same time putting in more ascent. While my typical 9-10 mile training runs in Saint Louis contained about 400 ft of ascent, the corresponding training runs here contain about 1000-2000 ft (depending on whether I choose an easy route or a hard route). I typically run more hilly routes on the weekends as well, and that hasn’t changed.

As I prepare to start racing out here I face three big challenges.

1. The elevation. I’ve lived my whole life basically at sea level, so running a mile above sea level now is quite a bit more difficult. Each day feels a little bit easier though.

2. The uphills. Running uphill is not my strong suit. Now with more opportunities I’m working hard to improve.

3. The competition. There’s a much higher concentration of great runners here than there is in Illinois or Missouri (and who can blame them?). I can’t really do much about that, so I’ll have to raise my game to stay competitive.

Cycling

While the hills are much bigger here in Fort Collins, there is also much more flat ground as well. Nearly everything in Saint Louis is rolling hills, while here it’s at either end of the spectrum. I haven’t been out on my bike as much as I’d like, due to, um, scheduling conflicts with my running.

Walking/Hiking

I did my first long run in Colorado yesterday. It was only 15 miles, but I burned as many calories as I typically would for 23-24 on flat ground. The first 13.1 miles took longer than my last marathon. I’m certainly in a period of adjustment. My legs aren’t accustomed to running up steep hills for miles at a time, but I’d like to become stronger. My heart and lungs aren’t used to working hard at this elevation, but I’m hoping each day will be slightly easier than the last.

I’ve talked to a couple people this week while running who quipped, “You just moved here Monday!? You’re not wasting any time, are you?”

No, I’m not wasting any time.

Running

It seemed like I didn’t run much. More than ⅓ of the miles I ran in April came in the two long races I did. I cut back my running for the two weeks after the marathon, then I cut back even further after the Chubb 50K. Now, two weeks later, I’m feeling recovered and I noticed my speed has been creeping back up again on my last couple runs.

We spent a few days out in Colorado last week and I had a couple of good runs there. It’s going to be nice to finally get moved in the coming weeks.

Cycling

Finally.

Walking & Hiking

Lots of walking as active recovery from the marathon and 50K.

Double Chubb 50K

My two most important running objectives for spring 2014 were the Land Between the Lakes 50 mile trail race six weeks ago and the Double Chubb 50K trail race this past weekend. I couldn’t identify either as more important than the other. On one hand I felt I was due for a good 50 mile performance, while on the other hand Chubb is the closest trail ultra to my home (on a trail I run frequently) and I’ve never made it in before (due to the fact that the registration fills up so quickly).

I’ve been running well this spring. I ran a 50 mile PR at LBL. Two weeks later I ran a 5K PR. Two weeks later I unexpectedly ran a marathon PR. Two weeks later I hoped to hit the quadfecta and run strong at Chubb. If things went well I would likely run a 50K PR and have a shot at a high overall finish. After all, the past two times I’ve followed a 50 mile race with a 50K a short time later I ended up winning the 50K.

I ran the Chubb Trail several times over the past six months–more than any other local trail. I ran it when it was snowy, icy, and/or muddy. About half the trail is flat, while the other half is either straight uphill or downhill. The most notable feature of the trail is the rocky 400 foot hill on the West Tyson end. It takes strength to run up and agility to run down. I ran every step of it more than a dozen times over the winter and early spring.

Photo courtesy of Shannon Drohan

The forecast was wet and cool, then wet and warm, then dry and warm. I would have preferred wet and cool. Race day was the warmest day I have run so far this year, which usually doesn’t bode well for performance. Everyone seemed a bit shy at the starting line so I had a front row spot. Once the race started I immediately began running uphill watching to see who would take the lead.

Photo courtesy of Shannon Drohan

There were two guys at the front and I think they were both in the 25K, so I wasn’t concerned. Nobody else started very fast so I hit the single track 3rd. I eased into the first few miles, but everyone else eased in more, so I was alone early. #2 on the trail appeared to twist an ankle and was stopped on the side of the trail. Now there was only one guy ahead.

Photo courtesy of Shannon Drohan

I ran up and over the big hill comfortably, but still under 9:00/mile pace on the uphill. I passed up the first aid station as I still had plenty of fluids (Tailwind) and food. On the flat section of the trail down by the river another 25K runner caught up to me and we ran (relatively fast) together for several miles. As we approached the first turnaround of the two out-and-back lap course the leader passed us coming back. It was about a minute before we reached the turnaround. The guy I ran with asked me if the leader was in the 25K or the 50K, which I thought was a silly question at the time. Surely he’s in the 25K.

On the second length (of four) back towards the start/finish area I decided I was running too fast and backed off while the 25K runner continued on. I had actually realized much earlier that I was running way too fast, but I guess I was just hoping for the best. The second pass at the big hill (this time from the opposite direction) was a bit harder, but still around 9:00/mile up the hill.

Elevation profile for today's Double Chubb 50K (2x out-and-back). My legs are trashed. pic.twitter.com/aryZsa9Mpf

— Rob Raguet-Schofield (@ragfield) April 20, 2014

As I passed the start/finish area at the halfway point one of the volunteers shouted to me, “he has 4:20 on you.” Wait, what? Who? What the… The first runner was in my race after all, and he had a hefty lead.

Every voice in my head shouted yes and no

I slowed down a lot on the third length of the course, partially due to fatigue, partially to being a bit down about the surprise I was so far out of the lead. I alternated between pushing the pace in the hope of eventually catching up, and slowing down as I lost focus. As I came within a mile of the turnaround I started looking out for the leader coming back toward me. Eventually he did, but it was much closer to the turnaround than I expected–2 minutes, so he had a ~4 minute lead. I had slowed significantly, yet I didn’t lose any more time (and possibly gained a few seconds). This changes everything.

I was able to refocus on the task at hand. Of course, there was still the small matter of the 8 miles and 2 big hills ahead of me. Also, there were chasers at 8, 10, and 12 minutes behind me, some of whom I was expecting to run a more even pace. My legs felt like bricks. I ticked off the miles, buoyed by each person I passed that was heading toward me. They all made comments like, “He’s only 3 minutes ahead,” “You’re only 2 minutes behind,” “I just passed the leader about a minute ago,” etc. I wanted so badly to slow down, but I also didn’t want to come so close to the win only to give up with a few miles to go.

Then came the big hill. The hill I ran at least a dozen times over the winter. The hill I cruised up earlier in the race. I was reduced to a walk on the steepest sections. About halfway up I passed Cousin Don who gave me the best news I’d heard all day, “He’s not very far ahead of you.” Then he added, “And he looks pretty beat up.” (After the race Don told me I also looked beat up at that point, but thankfully he didn’t mention it at the time). I slowly crested the big hill (after nearly 13:00 for the uphill mile), then I picked up speed on the downhill.

This is love, this is war

After a few switchbacks I actually saw the leader from behind for the first time in 28 miles. I sped up more. I closed the gap in a matter of seconds. I made the pass 29 miles into the race, right as he stopped to stretch out his calf. He mentioned he was really suffering badly from muscle cramps. I asked him if he needed any salt (which helps with cramps on hot days like this). “Yeah, if you have any,” he responded. I stopped long enough to dump a few S!CAPS out of my waterproof pill holder into his hand. Then I took off down the trail, hoping he wouldn’t start chasing (he didn’t).

I reached the bottom and began the final trail section, the Chinkapin loop, a trail whose only purpose is to make life hard. It doesn’t go anywhere, just straight up a 200 foot hill, then straight back down. It’s a final punch in the gut after a long hard day on the hills in the heat. The finish line is at the bottom. I couldn’t muster a smile until after I crossed the finish line. 3 minutes later the 2nd finisher crossed the line.

Don’t ever give up.

Photo courtesy of Shannon Drohan

I finished in 4:02 (7:48/mile), by far the fastest 50K I’ve run (on a not-exactly-fast course). I wanted to run under 4 hours, but considering how bad I felt by the end of the race I’m just glad I finished. I made a serious error by starting too fast (surprise!). On top of that I could feel the cumulative fatigue of my previous spring races in my legs, particularly the marathon 2 weeks prior. But now that it’s over, I feel pretty good about how things went.

Photo courtesy of Shannon Drohan

Double Chubb Overall winner Rob Raguet-Schofield in a time of 4:02. pic.twitter.com/1qnlw5k5sP

— STL Ultrarunners (@StLUltraRun) April 19, 2014

That’s going to be my last foot race for a little while. I think I’m ready for a break. In the span of 43 days I set PRs for 50 miles, 5K, marathon, and 50K. I’ve never had a streak like that before, and in all likelihood, I never will again. I’ve tried to enjoy it while it lasted.

These are beautiful times.

My next A race is the Double Chubb 50K, which is 10 days away. Last week I was still training pretty heavily. On Sunday I did 16.5 miles on the Chubb trail at roughly race pace, which left me sore for a few days. Monday I ran 10 miles. Tuesday I ran 10 miles. Wednesday I ran 10 miles, half of which was fast hill repeats. Thursday I was presented with an opportunity to run in the GO! Saint Louis Marathon that weekend.

Most marathon training plans suggest running about 20 miles in the week before the race. I did 51, so I wasn’t particularly well rested. It will be a good training run, I thought, a C race. Plus it will be a good opportunity to run in my Mr. Incredible costume, which should be fun with thousands of participants and thousands more spectators. The fun started on the train going to the race when a woman asked if she could take a photo of me to show her son.

I lined up just behind the 7:15 pace group. I was planning to run faster than that, but I certainly wanted to start conservatively. I wasn’t exactly prepared for what would happen once the race started. A quarter mile in I was running about 6:30 pace (well behind the 7:15 pace group) and I was getting swarmed on all sides as everyone was blowing past me. What the hell is going on? Do all these hundreds of people passing me not realize how fast they’re going? This is going to end badly.

I stuck with the conservative plan, reaching the first mile in 6:52. The 7:15 pace group was 20 seconds ahead of me instead of 20 seconds behind me. The second mile (downhill) was 6:41. The third mile (uphill) was 6:55. The fourth mile (downhill) was 6:33. These splits weren’t very even, but that’s what happens when there are hills (and there were hills). By now I’ve passed tons of the fast starters and I’m back ahead of the silly 7:15 pace group.

These early miles had the first out-and-back section, where thousands of slower runners first saw my costume and did a lot of cheering for me. There were also early aid stations where young volunteers in particular were very excited to see me. This was just a taste of what was to come.

I was confident I could average 6:50 pace throughout the entire race. If things go really well I may even be able to do 6:40. Miles 6-8 were Holy Hill, a two mile stretch with three big rolling hills in a row. When did Saint Louis get so hilly?

6:47, 6:40, 6:41, 6:38, 6:33. Okay, so I may have gotten a bit excited on the big hills. My heart rate jumped up a bit. Let’s try to calm down. There are lots of spectators through midtown and everybody’s cheering for me. Every young child who sees me gets excited. I’m giving them high fives. Every college student near SLU (who would have been a child 10 years ago when The Incredibles was released) loved it.

Before long the half marathon runners split off from the marathon runners and turned toward the finish line while we continued out toward Forest Park, where I run several times per week. Now this was my turf. The field thinned out considerably. I ran around the same three guys for the next 8 miles or so, all within 15 seconds of each other. As I caught up to one guy he looked over at me and said, “Oh, that explains a lot. I was wondering why everybody was calling me Mr. Incredible.”

1:28 at the half marathon. This is easy. Well, it’s supposed to be easy at that point. Coming out of Forest Park came the biggest hill of the race. Fortunately, this hill is right by my house and I run up it almost every day, so I was prepared. It was warming up a bit from the 39˚F start so I took my headband off and stashed it near my house so I could pick it up after the race.

More rolling hills through downtown Clayton. Then we hit a stretch of the course I’d never seen before as we headed up to Delmar. More rolling hills on Delmar, then a nice gradual downhill through The Loop.

I passed a few people I’d been chasing for miles as either they slowed down or I sped up. I pulled up beside one guy as we passed a spectator who shouted out, “I like your outfit!” The other runner and I looked at each other. I said to him, “I think she’s talking to you.”

Next I passed Jenny, who had as many people cheering for her as I did. Jenny went on to win the race, finishing 1 minute behind me.

I’m 20 miles into the race and it still feels easy. “Go Superman!”, I hear someone shouting at me. I look over and it’s a nun standing on the sidewalk. It brings a grin to my face, so I’ll forgive the mistake. Next I pass through the final marathon relay exchange point. It’s packed with 600 people and they’re all cheering for me. And I’m egging them on.

Miles 21 (6:35) and 22 (6:34) I notice it’s no longer easy. I still maintain a strong pace. Then came mile 23 (6:58) with the first hills in 5 miles and it suddenly became hard. Well, that’s to be expected. This mirrors what happened in the marathon I ran last spring. In that case I completely collapsed and slowed way down. Let’s try to avoid a repeat.

Mile 24 was relatively flat and I got back down to 6:40. Mile 25 had some more uphill sections and I was back up to 7:00. Hold it together. I was running beside thousands of half marathon participants at this point. Lots of them cheered me on and I kept moving. There’s a fairly brutal hill in mile 26 but I pushed hard and cranked out a 6:42, and I kept speeding up all the way to the finish line. The spectator support in the last mile was fantastic.

About ⅔ of the spectators who cheered for me throughout the race recognized me as Mr. Incredible. Most of the rest just cheered for the superhero. Other names I heard were Incredible Man (close), Dash (close enough), Superman (less close), and Batman (not close at all).

I finished in 2:56:19 (6:41 pace), meaning I ran even splits (1:28, 1:28) in a marathon for the second time ever. It was the fastest marathon I’ve ever run, and to be completely honest, it was the easiest marathon I’ve ever run (the next easiest marathon I’ve run was the other one where I ran even splits). The first 20 miles were a warmup. Then I had 2 moderately difficult miles and 4 very difficult miles. Basically it was like running a 10K, except I’m far more sore afterward.

Speaking of which, I can definitely tell something has changed either in my form or in my musculature over the past 6-12 months. I used to have a lot of soreness in my quads, a little in my hamstrings, and none in my calves after long races. More recently I have a lot of soreness in my hamstrings and calves, and just a little in my quads. I’m using different muscles. I haven’t quite figured out what to make of that yet.

Here’s a quick comparison of this marathon to the last one. At mile 15 I was only 19 seconds ahead of last year’s time, but by the finish I was over 6 minutes ahead. Incidentally, I just realized that I wore the exact same pair of shoes in these two races (with several hundred miles in between them).

I think I have a bit of room for improvement even at my current fitness level. With more rest and a flatter course I could probably push 2:50. Who knows whether I could have run faster without the costume… I don’t intent to find out. This experience convinced me that I will probably never want to run another road marathon in plain clothes again.