JFK 50 Recap

First off, a huge thanks to the many people who played such a big role in the Dojo JFK 50 Mile races today. Running is an individual sport, but our performances and accomplishments are the product of so many people's efforts. In my case:

* Alan's sage training advice,
* Teammates Brian, Miguel, and Matt, who exemplify toughness and, well, craziness,
* A Dojo cheering and pit crew (Rachel, Chris, Drew, Farah, Shawn, Alan, Miriam) at JFK that was by far the envy of the field,
* Workouts with the growing legions of Dojo,
* Drew, Jim, Rachel, Pruitt, Brian, Matt, and others prodding me along during countless long runs,
* Rob Gillanders' efforts to keep me patched together for the past couple months (mainly because of those aforementioned countless long runs, haha)
* Brian's willingness to trek all the way up to Boonsboro on weekends so we could scout the course,
* Virtual supporters who were following the race with rapt attention, and,
* Of course, Jen, who drove like a maniac to every crew spot to provide feed bags, tolerated my spending an unreasonable amount of time training for months, and kept me going today when things got really really bad (oh boy, did they).

As a training group, we probably understand certain aspects of each other more than even our closest family and friends. We know how much work each of us puts in to accomplish goals others might think are arbitrary or even irrational. We can appreciate how satisfying a good race can feel. We can commiserate when a random act of bad luck (flu, rain, food poisoning, you name it) derails months of work. We understand that it probably doesn't make sense to send a long string of texts to someone about Thanksgiving plans at 11 PM the night before their big race. Not only do we get the 5 AM wake-up time to go run, we join you for that run! For all of that, its times like this that make me want to thank all of you for being part of the Dojo community.

Anyway, on to the race.


Short story: Probably the single hardest race I've ever run. I.e., I've never felt more despair, or felt despair for as long, in any race, ever. All of which makes finishing in 7th overall, in an iconic ultra, feel pretty sweet right now.

Long story:
Smooth start. I am a terrible trail runner, but I managed to get off the AT section (the first 16 miles) in one piece (only one minor fall) in 2:09. This is not a great time for those at the head of the field. Top guys seem to go through around 2:00 or under. But for me, this was WAY ahead of my schedule. At this point, I think I was 16th or so, but not entirely sure.

Onto the 26 mile stretch of the Canal Towpath. I'm feeling pretty good, planning to run 6:30 to 6:40 pace. For whatever reason, I can't get grooved on 6:30-40 though, and end up clicking off 6:20-23 for mile after mile, all the way from mile 16-36. During this stretch, I am cruising pretty good, and manage to work my way up to 7th place. High hopes all around. But then..kablooey! Quads went from feeling heavy to feeling like cement. The crazy thing is that I don't think it was the hot pace on the Canal Towpath that did it. It was the elevation drops on the AT and the eccentric motions from jumping rocks that = lots of quad pounding that I failed to consider. The hot pace on the Towpath only contributed in the sense that my legs were not clearing that lactic acid, which may have happened if I had run even a few consecutive miles at 6:40 pace.

Late in my races, I often think back to previous life experiences where I was in equal or more distress, but still survived. For example, at mile 20 of a marathon, I think back to long tempos where I felt terrible with 6 miles to go, but somehow still hit goal pace. I tell myself, "if I did those last 6 then feeling like this, I can do 6 more now." It seems to help get through rough patches.

In this race, at mile 36, my quads felt like velcro ripping apart with each contraction. I thought back to previous life experiences...and found zilch. I don't have much to compare to the prospect of running 14 more miles on legs that I had blown to smithereens, in the running equivalent of the "death zone." The only thing I could think of was, "well, suppose I did a crazy hard workout. But then I ran into someone heading out for a long run. I could probably gut out that long run if I had to, right?" Well, it turns out speculation isn't as convincing as lived experience. I figured my pace was going to plummet, I was going to do some serious damage to my legs, and inevitably, four guys were going to fly by, knocking me off of JFK's coveted 10 man podium.

After two miles of limping along, I was coming up to the 38 mile aid station where I seriously contemplated dropping out, basically to avoid the agony/indignity of the next 14 miles. But the Dojo crew was out in force. I told Jen I was thinking of dropping out. She was unequivocal. "You are not dropping out of this race. Go finish this." Something about her certainty got me back on the course. What followed was the most agonizing 14 miles I've ever run. Well, what I did the last 14 miles cannot be legally described as "running." It was more "hobble-jogging" mixed with occasional under-powered walks.

At around mile 47, the first inevitable pass happened. Jim Sweeney from the Adi Ultra team came by, knocking me down to 8th. Jim was a true class act, though, giving me some genuine encouragement that I could turn around my race if I just started moving (I remember Chris Hamley once gave me the same advice when he blew by me in a half marathon). After mulling it over, I decided that I was going to run the last 3 miles straight, and actually run. I managed to catch back up to Jim and make the break for Williamsport. Ultimately crossed the line in 6:18, for 7th overall, hanging on with my fingernails to 7th through the final 14 miles.

At some level, there's some disappointment in not running a smarter race on the Towpath. 15 seconds slower a mile would have made an enormous difference on the back end. But when all is said and done, it is hard to be that disappointed with a 7th place finish in a great race, with lots of outstanding runners in the field.

A couple extra notes:

* Brian Savitch committed not one, but two supremely classy acts today. There is no way he'd ever tell anyone, so I am going to do it for him. When the race started at 7 AM in 20 degree temps, there was a frigid headwind blowing in on us.  Around the one mile mark, Brian raced out in front of me and told me to tuck in behind him for the sole purpose of blocking the wind for me, so I could save a few (valuable) bits of energy for later in the race.
Later in the day, after battling an abdominal cramp for 28 miles, Brian pulled out of the race. Even though he was disappointed by the bad luck, Brian joined the pit crew and was on hand to cheer the Dojo squad in at the finish line. I'll always remember that as a class example of how to support your friends even when things don't go your way.