I have a heart. Of course we all assume we have one because the pulse tells us that one beats inside, but I now know I have one because I’ve seen it. Not literally in the flesh so to speak, but via an ultrasound monitor that produced images as it contracted and expanded while pushing blood around my body. “Here is a view from below, and here we’re looking diagonally down to see that the valves inside the chambers are opening and closing without regurgitation.” The research assistant performing the scan was giving Guthrie a ringside view of the ‘action’, I could only see what was happening if I craned my neck to watch the monitor that was behind my right shoulder. “What if it does leak?” asked Guth. “We withdraw him from the study and he’ll need to see a physician.” came the reply. I crossed my fingers and considered holding my breath in preparation of bad news, but apparently all was good.

The scan was part of a research program looking into the impact on cardiac function as the result of endurance sport. Each study participant was required to have weight and height checks, a blood pressure reading and provide a blood sample, before undergoing the scan. These checks would take place at registration and immediately after the finishing the race. Programs like this are a common feature of the Western States 100 Mile Race.

The race course covers 100.2 miles between Squaw Valley, near Lake Tahoe, which was the venue for the 1960 Winter Olympics, to the town of Auburn which lies to the south west. Registration takes place at a ski resort that was built to house Olympic village. We joined a line of other waiting runners that snaked across a yard into a building. The temperature in the sunshine was climbing and standing around without shade wasn’t good. Before we made it inside, my cardiac test appointment time meant we had to go and find the research team. With the test over, we rejoined the registration line that thankfully now, was much shorter.

Entering the building we joined the ‘swag line’ that would put many bigger races to shame. Firstly, a running backpack compliments of Mountain Hardware, a subsidiary of Montrail the prime sponsor. Next, an embroidered fleece pullover, tech race shirt, a cap with built-in light, cotton shirt and various food and hydration mix samples. Weighed down with swag, it was then a quick photo for the web cast page and then another weight and BP check. Once done, we had a couple of hours to find lunch before the formal race brief.

The briefing was a completely uninformative process. No details of value to running the event were provided as everything had already been communicated in various email updates in the preceding weeks. The only thing that raised eyebrows was a talk from the course manager. He started by announcing that he had spent the morning out on the course raking stones. Excuse me? Yes, you heard correctly, here at the biggest 100 mile trail race in the US (possibly the world), they remove rocks off the course. He also mentioned other sections that had been cleared by contractors during the last year to make it ‘easier’. This seemed hard to believe, but they weren’t joking and as it turned out, it was difficult to see were the course had been made ‘easier’.

Our stay before the race was in the town of Tahoe on the shores of the lake. The scenery was beautiful and being close to the water certainly provided cooler temperatures. We dined on pasta and headed to the hotel for an early night. With race clothes out, bags packed we hit the hay to rise the next morning at 2:45 am in order to be at check-in by 3:45 and eat breakfast.

The start area was buzzing when we arrived; we collected my race number, timing chip and searched for food. The breakfast was minimal but sufficient. As the building filled with runners and their crews, the line for the bathroom lengthened. More research teams were briefing their subjects including a group who were going to be to pee in bags during the race and leave their samples on the trail to be collected by volunteers following the field! The study was looking into kidney function and dehydration effects.

As the start time drew closer we moved outside, the air was cool but the atmosphere had heated up considerably. I got a kiss for good luck form Guth and headed into the pack, then we were off. At the same time I had scheduled a quotation to appear on the BS web site; “Wherever you go, go with all your heart.” (Confucius). Mine was now pounding inside my chest as we began a 3 mile climb out of Squaw Valley. Within the first mile the lead pack went off course lead by 7 time WSER winner Scott Jurek who followed a line of lights up the mountain side rather than the yellow ribbons we were supposed to follow. Before you ask, I wasn’t one of these lost souls, as thankfully I wasn’t quick enough! We continued gaining height, crossed a couple of patches of lingering winter snow before cresting the ridge. The scenery was stunning, high above the tree line you could see for miles; the air was cool but not unpleasant. For many miles, we climbed, descended, climbed and descended. Patches of ground showed evidence of the fires that stopped the race last year that were now covered in alpine flowers that carpeted the ground in reds, blues and pink blooms. Everything felt good; my pace was comfortable, I ate and drank regularly and enjoyed the ride.

The first time Guth was able to catch up with me was mile 29 at Robinson Flat> Entering the aid station people called my name and shouted encouragement. One of the neat features I experienced at every aid station was that a spotter up the trail would radio a head the runner’s number. When you arrived at the station you were greeted by name and a volunteer became your personal assistant ready to fill bottles or get you food and a drop bag (if you had one). As I arrived I was weighed for the first time and found I’d dropped 3 pounds from my start weight, nothing to worry about but a reminder to keep drinking. Bottles filled, I grabbed some PB &J before being confronted by a lady with a hand full of sun cream who proceeded to slap the stuff on my face and arms – it turned out Guth had briefed her to do this! Then I was out of the station found Guth and collected a couple of Hammer Gels.

The next 25 miles were the hardest and hottest. Temperatures began to climb and I slowed my pace (or at least I thought I did) and focused on hydration and forward momentum. During gaps of just 5 miles between aid I’d down 2 bottles of fluid. Once or twice I got nervous about running out and could only hope that the next stop was not far away. At registration I brought a cap with a flap that shaded the neck and ears – it proved to be a life saver, I don’t think I would have coped with the heat in the canyons without it. These canyons provided 2 steep climbs to get out of them. Thankfully the ascents were shaded although beneath the tree canopy the air was still and stifling. The descents however were open to the sun and baked in an oppressive heat. My feet began to swell and I could feel my big toes smash into the toe box with each downward step.

I was told that if I made it to Michigan Bluff at mile 55 I should be able to finish as the course would be a little gentler. I found Guth at the aid station and almost 2 hours inside the 24 hour finish cutoff and still felt good. The aid station was packed with people as this was the point where pacers could join the race. I headed out still feeling confident although my feet were starting to feel very sore. Eight miles further on, Guth was on hand at Foresthills aid station. I knew at this point that my pace was slowing. I had felt the big toe nail had torn from its bed on my right foot and both heels had blistered. Sixteen miles later at the Rucky Chucky water crossing, my pace was down to mostly a power walk. The rocky trail was painful to run on and I was terrified of kicking a stone with my damaged right toe, knowing that if I fell, I’d hit the ground hard. At Rucky Chucky near-side I replenished my bottles and asked for Vaseline to treat abrasions inside my shorts. With a lump of gloop on my finger, I politely turned away and applied the soothing paste. “God that feels better!” I said to a volunteer stood nearby. “Like a breath of fresh air isn’t it?” he said. I pulled back the waist band of my shorts and peered into the murky depths. “I wouldn’t call down there a breath of fresh air.” I replied, and he had to admit I was probably right. I then headed down to the infamous crossing.

I had no idea how deep the river would be, but there was a rope across it with volunteers position at intervals to assist the weary. I entered the water and sank to my waist – the abrasions sang with joy as they hit the icy water. I tripped and stumbled over submerged rocks. The depth rose to chest deep, before I reached the far-side to cheers of encouragement from Guth. We were then did the next 1.5 miles together as that was where the car was parked.

From here on I looked forward to up hills and cursed the downs because they caused more pounding on my battered feet. The hope of a sub 24 hour finish slipped away, but not finishing was out of the question and I plugged on. The dawn broke, the miles seemed to get ‘longer’ but eventually I arrived at the final aid station of Robbie Point just over one mile from the finish. For the previous 2 miles I had tried to push as hard as my feet allowed and now sensing the end, squeezed even more on the easier paved surface. Two turkeys appeared in the road ahead and couldn’t seem to work out that if they moved to the side I’d stop following them. For about 400 yards they trotted ahead making clicking sounds with their claws on the black top. Guth appeared and we fell into step together. In the final yards before entering the Placer High School sport field another runner sped passed me and then another threatening to do the same. I ignored the complaints inside my Vasques and gave chase. Out onto the running track with 200 yards to go the race announcer called my name and commented on my chili pepper shorts. I gave one last kick and crossed the line.

Within seconds a medal was placed over my head, I was weighed, my timing chip was removed and my blood pressure taken. I really needed to sit down! A researcher appeared and asked if I needed anything before they performed my next ultrasound scan. “I just want to remove these shoes!” And pulled the stinking things off to reveal my white blistered feet. I was bit shocked at their condition which is the worse I’ve experienced during an ultra and their appearance received a few comments. They throbbed and I was offered an ice bath to soak them in – bliss! After a soaking, I underwent another ultrasound scan; the heart was still there and beating well, thankfully. We hung out, got some food and waited until the 30 hour cut off passed. The intention was to stay for the awards ceremony but the heat of the day was too much so we headed out to find a hotel and some air conditioned comfort.

The following morning we begin the journey home. En route to the airport we grabbed breakfast at a diner not far from the hotel. We ordered and were each presented with a plate of food that could have supported a family of four for a week! But Guthrie is a closet Pelican (her beak can hold more then her belly-can) and I’m on a permanent see food diet, so I have to admit we both managed to clear our plates! We got to the airport, checked in and began the slow hobble to the gate with Guth seemingly enjoying the slow pace of my shuffle! We’re just about to board and my phone rang. It was one of the research doctors making a follow up call. It seems my second blood test gave a high cpk reading, not enough to warrant action but sufficient to make sure I wasn’t experiencing any unwelcome effects. Elevated ckp is quite common after endurance events and should settle back down with rest and good hydration within a relatively short period of time.

Besides my feet problems, the race was worth it. The scenery was stunning and would make a great hiking trip. The organization of the event was faultless and the volunteers particularly provide an exceptional atmosphere. Originally I entered this race as a means to an end, to complete the Grand Slam, the size and hype that I perceived it generated initially put me off. But during the ride home, I had a couple of thoughts of what I’d do differently ‘next time’.

I hope they don’t do brain scans that year – I could be in trouble!

To view more pictures, click here

So this past weekend, I journeyed North again to take part in the Pittsfield Death Race. Not your typical race, this involved little to no running while pushing you to your physical and mental limits as you struggle to complete the various physical challenges. The race directors, Joe and Andy, spend the entire year devising the hellish tasks and delight in the pain and anguish emanating from the racers. To give you a taste of how hard Joe and Andy push themselves, Andy recently completed a TRIPLE Ironman (7.2mi swim, 336mi bike, 78.6mi run) and Joe once ran the Vermont 100 on a Sunday, the Badwater 135 3 days later on the Wednesday, then the Lake Placid Ironman 3 days later on the Saturday. To say that these guys are hard is to say it gets a bit chilly in the Arctic during the winter. So when these two put their heads together to devise a race in which they are hoping you drop out, you know “difficult” is just a jumping off point. However, in order to compete, you must bring with you objects listed as mandatory gear. This year, there was: a bicycle, axe, string, chain break tool (bicycle tool), and a compass. The optional gear included: a bucket, saw, a shovel, a multi use tool, and your sense of self preservation (technically that last one wasn’t on the list, but I feel the RD’s were thinking it). I’ve included a link where you’ll find a photographic overview of the race with captions to explain each task. I could write it all here, but to be honest, you really have to see it to believe it, so click here.

Needless to say, I’m a bit tired, bruised and battered after all that (the knees took a particularly hard beating as I fell several times in the river section and had nothing to break my fall) so I will slowly return to the life of the runner and see everyone soon.

-One quick note: I have to give a BIG thank you to Forrest for (naively) lending me his mountain bike for the race. I registered a bit late for the race and was scrambling to get all the required gear together and if it wasn’t for Forrest, I would have been stuck. (yes, I am trying to kiss a little ass here, because I put that bike through hell in ways a bike was never intended to be used. Sorry Forrest. You’re the best)

Much work needed to be done to get my butt up to this race.  Saturdays workload at the store presented me with a 10 hour work schedule. Not to mention a 2 hour lawn mowing job for my neighbor afterwards. But somehow with the thought of someone I know running a 100 miler I managed to suck up to the physical labor.  By midnight I was eventually off and driving for the next four hours until I had to rest. I pulled over at the lake at the base of Mt. Chocoura and napped in the parking lot for a little while. Did I mention I know someone running all night so why not stay up and drive all night? By 6:00 a.m. it was time to find breakfast. I went up to Jackson for hot coffee and a sandwich. Then up the road to Pinkham Notch to check it out. They’re redoing the parking lot for the A.M.C. camp there. The clouds were low and it was raining. I was re energized by now and was getting psyched up for the race. So off to the race venue. The rain stopped as soon as I left the Notch.

By the time I arrived at the base lodge the parking lot was filling up fast so I didn’t hesitate to get my bib # and t-shirt. I went back to the car to change into running clothes and did a small warm up run around the parking lot. The race atmosphere was more formal than others since this was a Championship event. Elite mountain runners from all over North America. The M.C. was great and he had a loud sound system that could be heard all the way up the mountain. The music they played was cool and loud. The racers were much more competitive than I have seen. Real fast looking and determined to tackle the hill climb at full speed. This was my first running of this race so I was really excited. There were three national anthems played. One for Mexico and one for Canada and of course the U.S.A . Its two times up and down the mountain. The loop was well marked and very steep going up. One section was a 25% grade up. Another was 20 % up. Don’t lean backwards to much! Once on top there was the only water station then its all downhill for 1.5 miles. It was full bore all the way to the bottom on this wide trail ( ski slope).

So off and running at 9 a.m. to another bottleneck start getting onto the trail. I managed to politely pass without knocking anyone over. The coarse is on ski trails with some single track crossovers and glade runs. Uphill for over a mile and a half. Just another strong cardio workout like the week before at Greylock. There were a lot of volunteers and spectators and photographers scattered along the loop. The first time I got to the top of the mountain I stopped at the water station and climbed the boulder across the way to claim the summit. This cost some precious race time but I had to do it because I used to climb this mountain a lot when I was a little kid ( via the old skimobile lift). So I had to do it for fun. A Sudsy moment. The next 1.5 miles is a cruise downhill full throttle. The whole time down I thinking to myself that I’ve got to go back up and over this hill one more time. I floored it as best I could passing the few runners that were able to pass me on the climb up. I came through the first lap at little over 43 minutes. A third of the way back up I could hear the m.c. announcing the first place runner coming through the finish line. I turned and looked way down the grassy soggy ski slope and could see him running to the finish. Most of the runners that I passed on the way down are trying to pass me two thirds the way up to the top. Once over the top the second time I stopped for some water and dashed off to catch up to those few runners that were able to pass me on the ascent. I caught up and passed most of them as I flew down the trail. The last tenth of a mile is at the base lodge along this nice green lawn. Well this kid from Maine that I just passed decided to floor it on this flat spot to the finish . He passed me right near the finish. Whatever! I was very satisfied with my finish time of 1:30:05. I hung around for the awards ceremony which the USA Men’s and Women’s teams both won. The first place winners get to go to Italy for the World Championship Mountain Running Race. After the race event was over I went to see the Mayor at the Café he is working at. He had some good news and some really awesome chocolate to eat. After that it was a drive home. I had a great time!

These mountain running challenges have been fun. It has been a great intro to what it may be like to run up the auto road on Mt. Washington 2010. My mountain running excursions and races should continue through the summer. This makes for an excellent source of training for any Ultras I’ll be doing this Fall. Hint hint – Suds

Conditions Summary
Cranmore Hill Climb 11k : Cranmore Mtn. Resort North Conway, N.H.
Sunday June 29th 2009 @ 9:00 a.m.
Weather: Cool 65 degrees f, Cloudy with a chance of showers.
Trail Conditions: Not dry, spongy ground with some muddy and wet spots.

Ladies, to check it out, click here.

It All Started So Well

This was a very busy weekend for Bimblers, with races and other various and sundry endurance events taking place in multiple states, both near and far. The weekend’s premier event was, of course, Mr. Bimble’s performance at The Western States Endurance Run, but there were other Bimblers keeping busy as well
Photos, tweets, TXT messages, etc… already had the internet “tubes” clogged by mid-day Saturday as news poured in from the west coast regarding Mr. Bimble’s 100 mile effort at Western States. The news started good, and stayed good, and we look forward to much more BS once Mr. B and Guthrie are recovered. Congratulation Mr. Bimble, one down, three to go!

A couple of “quiet” races took place this weekend as well. While not quite “secret”, they were not “hyped” either…

Suds (aka Svelte?) went off to the Cranmore Climb, a brutal 2 loop mountain race in New Hampshire. If I have my facts straight, I believe this race was serving as the Americas (North and South) Mountain Racing Championship for 2009. Suds expected to “rub elbows” with many Mountain Gods. I have no doubt an excellent and detailed report will follow.

El Toro (aka Tennessee?) competed in the Pittsfield Death Race. Reports are that he did very well. ET participated in this race last year as well. He doesn’t talk too much about it for two obvious reasons:
1) He went back again, knowing what it was like. This is NOT something to be proud of!
2) The details are horrifying enough to curl your toes. Even world weary, battle hardened Bimblers need to be spared from hearing too much of the story.
We expect an “edited for television” account from El Toro soon.

The non-competitive endurance event of the weekend was our Bycimble at the New Haven Century ride. Participants included Ultra, IGGY, Jiffy, Clark, GaZelle, Allstate, Hardware, and me. Other faces familiar to some, were in attendance as well. Almost Bimbler BiL (ask Allstate and/or IGGY), a father/daughter team (I work with the father) who had the good sense to keep their distance, and a woman who came up from the city, and thought it might be fun(?) to ride along with us.

At the Start

We set out shortly after eight through the mean streets of New Haven. The early Sunday silence in the heart of the hospital zone was shattered by shouts of “Hey, you’re going the wrong way”. Our fearless leader, who should remain nameless, so I will not tell you it was Ultra, ignored the shouts, and we Bimblers, like the lemmings we are, followed him. Soon enough, we made a U-turn, back by the smug shouters, humbly acknowledging the error of our ways.

GaZelle & BiL, Starting Out in the Wrong Direction

Soon enough, we were riding along the beach in West Haven, enjoying the weather, the views, and the company. Our group split in two, just slightly, with the leaders clearly in view. When we got to Jimmy’s, which is the local version of Chowder Pot in Branford, the second group stopped for a traffic light and minor equipment issue. That is all it took for the breakaway to start, with Ultra, Jiffy, BiL, and some others pulling away from us, the self-appointed peloton. Once we restarted, Clark suggested that I take the lead. I assumed that included setting the pace, and I began to reel in the breakaway. Unfortunately, I did not notice that the peloton did not follow. No matter, we all regrouped, after passing by the House of Zell, at the first aid station at Cafe Atlantique in downtown Milford. Special note was made of both the quality and quantity of the PB&J and Oreos. Bathrooms rated highly as well. Some of our group headed back on the “short route” after this stop.

We set out again, with Ultra and Jiffy clearly feeling the need for speed. Other than a phone call, that was the last contact I would have with them during the ride. Some others entered and exited our group, but there was a core, as best I can remember, of Clark, IGGY, Hardware, me, and the unnicknamed woman from Brooklyn. We left the shore and headed into “hill country”. Clark and I labored up one significant hill, and shortly thereafter a long smooth stretch of straight slightly downhill road presented itself and inspired me. It mattered not at all that this was not part of the course. Eventually, Clark caught me and eventually, but not for quite a while, we realized that I had led us astray. We eventually tired of waiting for Hardware and IGGY to catch up, so Clark called Hardware. The report was that IGGY had had a minor problem (see photos) so we sped back to assist. Many miles and hills later, Clark and I realized that we had gone past the point where we had all been together. How could we have missed them? Oh, we missed them because they were on the actual, official route, whereas we were not… So, we turned around and tried to follow the official route. Along the way, we found a pair of cyclists who were ready to quit due to multiple bike problems. Fortunately, as many of you know, I carry a myriad of “goodies” in my backpack, and I was able to provide all the necessary “parts” to get them back on the road.

IGGY's Best

Clark and I continued to “chase down” IGGY and Hardware through the hill country, and I took us off course again! Finally, we both agreed it would be best if I followed. I called IGGY, who along with Hardware and, hmm, let’s call her BB (Brooklyn Biker), were comfortably resting at Wentworth’s Ice Cream, and asked her if they could wait for us. They acquiesced, for which Clark and I were grateful, as we never would have caught them otherwise. We then rode through some beautiful countryside in Woodbridge, where there appear to be trail running opportunities, on the way to Wentworth’s.

Finally, after the ladies waited for several hours (?) for Clark and me, we were all re-united. Except of course, for Ultra and Jiffy, who by then were in the mountains of Wallingford. We all, not at all grudgingly, agreed that we could head back to New Haven and complete the 43 mile loop, which is what we did. Hardware took us on the scenic tour, by her house. While she was hoping someone would suggest taking a break to mow the lawn, no such offer was made, so we moved on. At that point, Hardware found that magic, elusive gear. All bikes have this seemingly mythical gear, but few cyclist can reliably find it. We all did our best to chase her, to no avail.

We arrived, triumphantly, at the New Haven Green to a cheering throng (a new nickname for Allstate?). No sign of any “officials” present at all. Fortunately, IGGY was able to “check us in” with her shiny new toy, the iPhone 3Gs.

Triumphant Finish

Shortly thereafter, Ultra (and supposedly Jiffy) returned from their 62(?) mile ride. Our group then proceeded to The Playwright for “sustenance”. A pleasant outdoor table from which we could watch our bikes provided for a leisurely discussion of the day’s events. Eventually, we all departed in various stages: Allstate, GaZelle, Ultra, Hardware, Clark… Both BB and I left shortly after Mr. Wonderful arrived, with whom IGGY proceeded to a second lunch.

Having missed my 2PM train home, I took the 100 mile route, backwards, to Branford. I “crossed paths” with several cyclists completing the full century. Maybe next time…

All photos Copyright © 2009 Cathi Bosco. All Rights Reserved.

Confucius

“In the mountains of truth, you never climb in vain. Either you already reach a higher point today, or you exercise your strength in order to be able to climb higher tomorrow.”

Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

Goethe

To read the full article, click on the link: Trail Runners and the Art of Endurance

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