White River 50 Mile Race Report

50 miles in the woods is a long way to run and a lot can happen.  Fortunately, the White River 50 mile was probably on one of the most beautiful courses out there, and consisted of great company and fantastic volunteers.

Drive along Hwy. 410

I camp out the night before and can barely sleep. I'm too nervous. Neighbors are playing the soundtrack to Gladiator and medicating on tequila until 2 a.m. (Note to self, next time just tent camp outside the race start). I'm falling in and out of sleep, waiting for my alarm.

The race day weather is low cloud cover, with temps in the low 50's, and perfect for the start of a race.  There are lots of people at the start, more than any other run I've been to, and all look to be doing their part in trying to keep the national BMI average below 'obese'. The early starters have left at 5:30 a.m. and are on course.  I stand somewhere near the back of the pack, the clock strikes 6:30, and the day begins.

Miles 1-17

Maybe 100 yards in, I meet up with runner friend Greg. I've run with him at Grey Rock three weeks before, run with his wife at Sun Mountain, and had seen them both at check-in on Friday. I figure we'll both be running the same pace, so we decide to run together. This is nice, we talk about other things, and don't worry too much about navigating the sea of people that quickly bottle-neck when the short section of airstrip running changed to forest single track.

We power hike and run portions of the first climb, careful not to expend too much energy. We discuss life.  It's enjoyable to be able to hang out, while running, for the first two and a half hours of the race.  The climb is long, but the scenery makes up for it. Consumed in the morning fog, the trail consists of some of the most beautiful forest, waterfalls, and creeks. Sun starts to pierce through the clouds and forest as we approach where the climb begins to level off. Greg tells me to go for it if I'm feeling good, and I am, so I wish him good luck, pass a couple of people, and pick up my pace. Shortly thereafter, Glenn captures Mt. Rainier beautifully in the background as I approach the 17 mile marker, full of energy and ready to take on the day:

Photo Credit to Glenn Tachiyama

Miles 17 - 27

After the aid station, I get about 3 miles to run along the ridge, following by 7 miles of downhill. There is no real explanation for what it feels like to run so much continuous downhill. While the trail is soft, the forest quiet, and the air clean, my legs are starting to let me know they would like a slight break. Without a break, my quads soon start to tire, and I found myself waiting for some sign that the Buck Creek aid station is quickly approaching. Slowly but surely, I am greeted with the murmur of the White River. Then the sounds of cars, and finally, cheering volunteers and onlookers as I approach the Buck Creek aid.  It's in the woods, and people are everywhere cheering. I'm astounded by the sheer number of volunteers and onlookers. A helpful volunteer takes my pack, and refills it. I try a potato, it's hard and uncooked, so I spit it out. I don't bother to test another, have my first swig of coke, take a salt tablet, and then a cup of water. Back on the trail, my legs are shocked that they have a short flat section, and I really don't know what to do. 

Miles 27 - 37

I walk a bit of the flat areas, going by many campsites with people that are hitting the early lunch hour. BBQ's are starting, some campers already drinking, and I'm sure a fair number of people wondering what the hell all these psychos are up to. I meet up with a couple of runners I've met in races before, offering words of encouragement, and then begin to power hike and run as the second climb begins.

At a small creek crossing, I try to rock hop, and fall into the water on my butt.  Both shoes are now soaked.  I'm slightly concerned this will lead to blisters or uncomfortable feet, but decide instead to embrace the fact my feet got to cool themselves. This is where I meet Nicole, and she offers me help but I manage to get up on my own. We then proceed to run together, with occasional breaks on the remaining miles up to Sun Top. She's a mother of three, and completely kicking ass. Her second 50 miler, she seems to be doing pretty well as we each take turns in the lead.

We get in a with a group of about three other guys, and our 'mini peloton' ascends a 4 mile stretch up to the next aid station. On a brief downhilll, one of the runners descends a short section running backwards. First time I have ever seen this, as he exclaims 'Gotta save the quads!'  I tell Nicole that I have the strongest craving for citrus, and I start thinking of lemonade, oranges, and grapefruit. After a fair amount of climbing, we begin to see balloons attached to the trees, and hear music as we approach the aid station. Jimmy Buffet is blaring, all the more reason to make this stop quick. Coke, salt tab, orange. Move.

The trail is now a steadier grade of climbing, mixed with some slight descents, and I'm waiting for the Sun Top aid. Conversation now sparse, breathing heavier, and for the first time I notice the temperature isn't as cool as the start. Pit Stop #1 makes itself known, and I bushwhack off the trail (FYI, everyone does this, it's extremely commonplace). Shortly thereafter, the switchbacks leading up to the Sun Top aid station begin to appear, and without the cover of the forest, the afternoon sun engulfs me. I'm running portions of the switchbacks, and sweat is dripping from my nose.

Photo Credit to Glenn Tachiyama

Miles 37- 44

Sun Top aid consists of two cups of Mountain Dew, or in the words of the aid station volunteer 'Double Dew', an orange, a belch for the spectators, and my decision to put everything into this gravel road downhill. I'll see what I have left for the final 6.5 miles and gut it out. I pass a handful of runners on the way down. Everyone looks exhausted. The gravel road is largely without shade and exposed in the sun, but the only thing burning are my quads. I just keep thinking that the aid station is just ahead. As I level off and approach the aid station a half mile out, my bowels dictate that I need to go. I find a tree and perform Pit Stop #2.

44 - Finish

I down three mini cups of Coke/Pepsi at the Skookum Aid, have a helpful volunteer fill my pack with water and ice, and take off, happy that my bowels have now cleansed themselves. Not so, about 15 minutes in, I get the very intense urge to 'go'. I stop to walk, and the urge immediately subsides. I walk for a couple of minutes, then start running again, and immediately have the same intense urge come up. I find a tree, Pit Stop #3. I get back on the trail and start running again. I try to enjoy this part of the trail, as it borders the White River, is nothing but old growth forest, and breathtakingly beautiful. But my body is wanting me to focus on other things. The same intense urge hits me 5 minutes later, as running now results in bowel issues. I've stopped eating and drinking, engage in Pit Stop #4 and #5, get passed by way too many people, and submit to walking to the finish. I feel completely lethargic.

10:08:02 and good for 110 out of 275 finishers.

In Retrospect
The final section took me more than 90 minutes to complete, resulted in me going over 10 hours, and generally feeling extremely poor.

So what was it?  My first thought is caffeine from the Mountain Dew and Coke. I rarely drink any type of cola, but decided it looked good during the run. Dumb, and it caught up with me. Second thought is potentially too many gels/blocks and not enough water. Gels were my primary source of fuel, and I consumed more than I'm used too, along with not drinking enough water (I didn't pee a lot).  My third thought is that I just went too hard on the 6 mile downhill.  I passed some people and figured that I would just 'tough out' the last 6+ miles.  It's very hard to 'tough out' 6 miles after one has run 44 in the mountains.

I've had truly mixed feelings about this race since it was finished. I was happy to have completed the race, especially right around my goal time of 10 hours. I was happy with the first 44 miles. I didn't like how I finished. Nothing is more demoralizing than not being able to run, control ones bowels, and be passed by more than 20 people over the final miles of a race.

I'll adapt.

Bring on a 100 in 2013.

Pre-Race Food: Turkey and Rice Wraps for dinner. Strawberries and PBJ for bfast.
Pre-Race Music Book: The Enthusiast, by Charlie Hass
Post-Race Food: Home cooked meal from the Johnson residence in Fircrest.  Steaks, guac, sweet potatoes, alcoholic lemonade. Friends picking me up at the race to drive me back to their place for food, a hot shower, and a bed, means more than anything. Extremely grateful.

White River 50 Mile Pre-Race Thoughts/Plan

I'm so materialistic.

Nervous yet excited, I truly look forward to experiencing all of the pending emotions associated from the event. I requested bib 138, among others, and received it.  My pop's number from his Ironman Canada years ago (while he was in a squadron of the same number) shall hopefully provide good vibes, and a reminder of others endurance efforts, if I get tired.

Nutrition Plan: Clif Gels and Blocks (all non-caffeinated, a couple packs of Margarita blocks for salt)  every 25 minutes, sip water every 10 minutes. S!Caps, Ginger Ale/Coke, Oreos/Chips Ahoy, and/or Potatoes from Aid Stations as necessary. Fill pack at Ranger Creek and Buck Creek aid.

Gear: Adidias Climalite boxer briefs (this is important, enough people don't blog about underware), Patagonia Strider 7-inch shorts, Patagonia Capilene-1 shirt, Injinji Performance Toe-socks, Montrail Badrock Shoes, Dirty Girl Gaiters, Salomon Calf Sleeves, Ultraspire Surge Hydration Pack, Brooks HVAC Hat.

Misc. Gear: Wipes in baggie, Vaseline in baggie, extra contacts & eye drops.

Run Plan (Subject to Change):
-Start easy, first climb mix in some running and power hiking, hold back if start to feel too good.
-Pick up pace at Ranger Creek aid, and then run comfortably along ridge top and downhill into Buck Creek.
-Steady run for the 10 miles to Sun Top.
-Let loose. Destroy downhill.
-Hit final aid, eager to gut it out to the finish along the flats.
-Smile, eat, poop, start thinking about when/where the first 100 miler will occur.

White River 50 Mile and Time Standards

White River being my first 50 mile, I thought I would put together a chart illustrating various time windows and the results of achieving such times. Some will run the race just to complete it, attempting to avoid the cut-off. Some will run this race as a foray into running 100's (Real Endurance , Run 100's).  Some will run this race really, really fast.  So, because everyone loves Excel charts...

** Amended, 'Probably Doping' will have to be to the <5:00:00 territory moving forward.  2012 Winner Sage Canaday killed it in 2012, with a new course record of 6:16:10.

Taper Time!

The last time I seriously tapered for an athletic event, it involved an evening spent in a hotel bathroom with a bunch of pink razors and women's shaving cream.  

I don't miss this.

It's taper time for the White River 50 mile.  I finalized my plan over the weekend, and will highlight what I'm doing, and why, below. Post-race, I'll evaluate how the plan worked out.

Sleep - Attempting 10 hours a night starting next Sunday. I'll be in bed by 8:30 every night, and wake up when my body wants. There has always been a strong correlation, at least for me, in terms of how much I sleep, and how well I perform.

Less Mileage - Obviously, this is the purpose of the taper. Having held 70-mile weeks, I'll drop down to about 40 miles this week, and then 15 miles next week.  Though, the intensity of the runs will be harder. I've read plenty on the advantages of this (less mileage, but higher intensity), and experienced some of my best swim performances when I lessened mileage and increased the intensity of workouts.

Days Off - I'll take a couple of days off this week. Then take Wednesday, and Thursday off next week.  A 'shake-out' 3 miles on Friday morning, will be nice and easy.  I'm doing a 'shake-out' run, as I've found that I never feel my best after a day off.  Thus the 'shake-out' run.

Heat Acclimatization- White River has temps that could hit the 80's. Spokane was in the 90's all last week, and my Grey Rock 50K hit the 90's. We've also had some humid days as well. I'm thinking it will help running in these temps now, as my body will be somewhat used to it.

Positive Thoughts - I'm probably more convinced of this than anything else.  Don't doubt the training and work that has been put in. Don't make last minute changes to plans, form, eating habits, gear, etc. Trust your plan. Trust yourself.

My first club coach in swimming always told me, 'David, don't screw with stuff two weeks out'.  It was a philosophy I applied in competitive swimming pursuits, and applied to my swimmers when I was a swim coach. I've seen these words be proven true over and over again. I witnessed many swimmers that would get anxious regarding a pending meet, then try to change their swimming form, buy new goggles, change a workout routine,etc. These athletes never did their best.

I was guilty of this doubt my freshmen year of college. I doubted my college coach's tapering plan. I doubted my training throughout the year. I doubted my rest (it's college, I had a roommate), my diet (college), and pretty much anything else I could doubt. I had a horrible meet, but in hindsight, an invaluable learning experience.

I'm convinced one's mind, and confidence, has to be brimming with positive thoughts preceding a major athletic event. My running partner has consistently fed me positive thoughts on our runs, and this has helped tremendously. I'm trusting my training. Trusting my taper. Trusting my ability to adapt to circumstances that present themselves. Time to enjoy the experience.

Grey Rock 50K Race Report

It's 5:15 and I'm still stuck in my white-walled, air-conditioned office.  I'm putting the final touches on some tasks at work, and I realize I'm not going to be on the road in time to get to the campground before dark.   I catch the 5:27 bus home, throw on a change of clothes, double-check my gear, and head out the door.

It's 10:30 and I've just driven through Ahtanum, WA. My windshield is covered with the evidence of the insect massacre that accompanies any summer sunset drive through eastern Washington. It's pitch black, and I'm now heading up a dirt forest road, looking for Tree Phones Campground. I'm following a van with four bikes attached to its back. After driving four miles UP the road, I start to second guess my way. I decide to turn around and head back to an earlier campground I saw (I figure I can ask for directions from someone there). Back down the road, I find three helpful campers enjoying Bud Lights and cigarettes. They let me know that the campground, is in fact, up the road I was going. However, it's about seven miles up the road.

"Why are you going up there?"

"There's a run there tomorrow"

"Shit."

I get back on the road, and halfway to the campground I find the same van I had been following, barreling back down the forest road. I'm now doubting that anything is up this road, mostly due to the fact this van obviously didn't stay up there. I pull to the side and roll my window down, hoping to ask the driver a question. The van lurches to a stop, the window rolls down, and a slightly large bearded man, with thick plastic glasses, sticks his head out. 

"Hi, I'm looking for the campground for the run tomorrow, are you too?"

"Run? Um, no. I'm just driving around. I just like to drive around this time of the year. I just do this for fun."

"Okay, well, is Tree Phones Campground up this road?"

"O yeah, there's a campground up the road, about three more miles.  There are people there, I'm not staying there though, I just like to drive at night, and stuff.  Uh, this is just what I do for fun."

"Okay, cool, thanks, have a good night."

"Yep."

SPLENDID! Who's ready to run 31 miles in the woods now??? I know I am!!  

When You Don't Have It

The race doesn't start with a gun or anything of the like. The race director simply gives a brief speech and then tells us to follow him as he starts running to the trail-head.  After five minutes of ascending the first climb, I don't like my pace, so I slow down, and roughly 12 or 15 people pass me running up the climb, and go out of sight. I'm alone. I don't know if it's the heat (already hot at the start of the race), the starting elevation (4,000 ft), sleeping in my car (I was too tired and it was too dark to put my tent out), or just being in the midst of some hard weeks of training and mileage, but I don't have 'it'.

I let everyone go on the climb and decide to intermix power hiking with some light running on the flatter sections of the climb. I also decide that if this isn't going to a good day, I need to focus on what I can control (hydration, nutrition, running form, and just trying to keep a consistent pace throughout the race). I also may just take a little longer to warm up.

Warmed Up and Warming Up

The course is an out and back of three climbs and descents.  After cresting the first ridge, which gave a beautiful view of Mt. Adams, I descend back down to the first of three aid-stations.  I think I came in around 80-90 minutes, and was surprised to see my first glimpse of any runners since the first 10 minutes. Heading up the second climb, I pass a couple of these runners right away. About halfway up, I get to another couple of runners and pass them. I'm power hiking and running the flats and feel warmed up.

Looking like a winner.

As I approach the top of the ridge that offers a spectacular view of Mt. Rainier, I get in with another runner for awhile and then the leaders of the run come flying by us after they have hit the turnaround.  I run along a somewhat flat ridge to the second aid station now feeling better.  Many of the runners that have passed me earlier are on their way out of the aid station, some running, some walking. I enjoy the views of Rainier...and notice that it's getting hot. The forecast called for upper 90's, and while it's only 10 a.m., I can tell it's going to be a hot run back.

Finishing

Coming out of the aid station I know I have two downhills and one uphill.  Pure joy, as I love to run downhill.  However, a lot of this course is technical single track with lots of rocks that get in the way of my big feet. I pass by a fair number of runners now, a couple miles past the aid station, some of them walking.  

(Free Tip - someone asks me what kind of gaiters I have on. I tell them Dirty Girl, and to just Google 'Dirty Girl Gaiters'. A runner I'm with cautions to not just Google 'Dirty Girl'. Sound advice.)

I get a surge of energy on this downhill, and am able to pick up speed.  I make sure to stop at every creek and dunk my hat though, as it's getting really hot. I pass a couple of other runners about halfway down, and coast into the final aid station.  Then the final climb begins.  

I get about five minutes into this climb, and then start attempting to power hike.  Maybe I pushed too much on the downhill, I'm not sure, but I'm barely shuffling on the flatter portion of this uphill. The heat is very apparent, my legs are pooped, and my mind starts questioning everything. I just want to finish. I finally get to the top of the ridge (resisting the urge to sit down in the patches of snow at the top), drink a water bottle from a volunteer, and do my best impression of a really slow downhill run into the finish.

Look, a water bottle.

I finish. 6th place with a time of 6:22:00.  It's hot, but they have catered BBQ chicken at the end, and a creek that runs through the campground has ice cold water to soak my feet in.  I talk with some of the other runners, eat some food, soak my feet, and then head home.  

Pre-Race Food: PB and honey sandwich 

Pre-Race Music: Mumford and Sons

Post-Race Food: BBQ Chicken, Cookies, Cake, Bud Light, 7-up, Squirt.