Blog Post

If your run fitness was a one of these mountains, which one would you rather it be?  Either can have a good foundation, but one is very distinct - it draws you in.  You imagine what it is like at the top.  In some ways it looks impossible to climb, but if you look long and hard, you begin to see possible routes and a way to the top.

The other mountain can be much easier to get to and climb, as many people do.  Less preparation is involved, with less unknown.  And, it comes with a plateau.

The other, more impressive looking one is much more elusive and challenging, where most people observe from the base, snapping pictures, but very few attempt to take a "selfie" at the top.  To summit, it requires knowledge, a progressive plan, and an extreme enjoyment for the process.  A burning desire every morning, to wake while every one is still asleep, to train for the summit.

There is not enough room at the summit for everyone, but sometimes that is why we attempt to climb.  After all, we soon realize it is the process of becoming our best that we ultimately fall in love with, and that ultimately becomes the joy of running.

Being your best is just a choice, which mountain do you chose?

EO

For some reason today felt like the first run since The Rut. It wasn’t. I’ve been running most days since the race, but I don't remember feeling much when I ran after the Rut. Maybe circumstance, my mother-in-law dying, maybe fatigue, or likely both, but today was the first day I EXPERIENCED my run. I felt alive and aware again. And I felt a deep connection with nature. I don't know that you can experience it through my ramblings, but I wish you could feel it. ...It is heaven.

The run itself actually should’ve been a little hellish. Strength/Speedwork. It was 79 degrees with 75% humidity. It would be a midday run, typically not my best time to run....I'm a morning girl. The agenda: Warm up getting to HR zone 4 by 30 minutes, then 5 x 5 min "near max" effort intervals followed by a 20-30min recovery/cool down.

I took a water bottle figuring I would need it for the hour and a half to 2 hours I would be out.

I got ready to head out down the rolling gravel road just across the river bridge. Before long, this old steel river bridge will no longer exist. The road crew is working on a new concrete bridge. I received a few waves and nodding heads as I prepared to head out. As I took off, clear blue-green Illinois river rambled to my left. The river is low this time of year making the bottom easy to see. The trees still full of mostly green leaves, with few hints of gold and orange and providing much appreciated intermittent shade. I felt my HR rising as I went, increasing my effort gradually to get warmed up. Increasing effort, increasing effort then around 30minute in, bang! Off I went for the first of 5 speed intervals. Heart pounding, the minutes never seem longer than during these intervals. Gauging, "ok Lori, that next tree, that next tree is likely a minute”, “ok, that bend in the road ahead, that should be 2 minutes”, “the top of that hill”, and so on. No music to distract, staying right in the moment,  feeling that effort, that fine line of sustainable/unsustainable and adjusting to keep it there, keep it there, keep it there,  just 1 more minute...30 seconds...keep it there,  duhuun! Hands on knees, walk a bit, jog a bit, get ready to go again. The water I brought to drink not palatable, only able to tolerate a little, the rest used to pour a little after each interval on top of my head, neck and face in attempt quell the sensation that my head was going to spontaneously combust right off of my shoulders.  I needed more on me than in me. 3rd one came around, feeling the fatigue by 3-4 min, quick peek at watch, a little disappointed at more time left than i had anticipated, the wind picks up, the leaves rustle, I imagined their encouraging me, "go lori, finish strong". Soooo awesome to feel the wind and hear the trees. I instinctively picked it up as if being cheered on by a crowd. A crowd of trees. Last interval, "ok, Lori, this is the one that counts, let's do this", "focus, focus, focus"..the trees were quiet. Just my breathing, following my breath with my steps... in in ouuuut, in in ouuuut. Everything seemed silent, just steps and breath. Arms pumping, thinking, "this is the one that really counts, the one that defines how well you managed the other 4", "hold it, hold it". Aaaand done! Hands on knees, then walk, then shuffle, jog. The sun seemed brighter. The leaves more vibrant. The wind more audible. Connected. I felt like i could hear, feel, and really see today. I hope you can too.

Just 5 weeks left until my HM following a season of the TCI training plan. I timed my training so that phase 2, week 9 would be my taper week. I repeated weeks 1-4 of phase 2, similar to suggestions I read from Eric in the forum. I am thinking about changing up my remaining long runs, however, since I have repeated those weeks and am approaching race day. Instead of running rolling hills, I am thinking about running relatively flat routes in HRZ 1-2 and finishing my runs  at half-marathon pace. Thoughts? If I do this, I am not sure if I should finish them all the same (say the last 1/4 of the run) or at increasing lengths up to the week before my race. Any advice or suggestions for my final weeks of training would be much appreciated. This is my second HM, and I am hoping to improve my time of 1:48.

Well ... my summer didn't really turn out the way I had hoped it would. I had planned for a local "extreme" race and two half-marathons and I had to cancel all of them. And rather than spending my summer running, the pain I've been experiencing in my right foot got worse and I eventually had to withdraw from running for 6 weeks :(

On a brighter side, I've been allowed to start running again and have been able to go up to 6.5 km so far without any problems. My physiotherapist seems to have a long-term thinking that I like and have given me some extra exercises apart from the slant board exercises (which he btw thought were great) to strenghten my feet to avoid further injury. Due to all this, you could say that I've been given extra time to work on my strength and balance and might come out of it all feeling stronger in the long run (pun intended). 

I'm a bit uncertain as to where I should pick up the foundation program though. I left off at phase 1 - week 7 in the end of July and have been running twice a week for a month now without any foot pain. What would you suggest?

Cheers

"Flagstaff Skyrace final is in 4 days. I won't be there. I will be here with my family as we help my mother-in-law pass this life. I made the final decision this morning, and I have a sense of relief"...I started that entry on 9/30/14, I didn't know how much time she had left. We lost her that night. I can't really put my feelings into words. Everything kinda came to a screeching halt.  We knew it was coming,  but it still felt sudden. It's also hard for me to realize the race series is over for me, the season is over. That suddenly stopped too. And I stare at the blinking cursor, lots of feelings, thoughts, emotion...no words.

Ok, so if you'll forgive me, this is the pretty much obligatory post to let you all know that my book, Ben on Foot, is out now! For you guys who pre-ordered the limited edition first print, they're on their way :)

It's about how I went from a complete non-runner, to running ultra distances in about a year, culminating in my showdown with a self-planned 130-mile jaunt across south-west England. It's not a training guide, more of a personal account with a few lessons sprinkled throughout - it's honest, at least haha.

Feedback from everyone who's read it so far has been humblingly positive - if you'd like to have a read yourself, it's available either through Amazon here or directly from my Createspace platform here. It's also available on Kindle through Amazon here.

I owe a massive thanks to the community on here, because without the support and camaraderie of members old (RWE represent!) and new, I don't think I'd have made it through the story that's in the book, let alone written it all down afterwards.

Ok, so that's my final bit of self-promotion done - if you grab a copy, I'd love to know what you think... and I'm sure your friends would too ;)

Speak to y'all soon.

- Ben

Hi everyone, I thought I'd share this as it underlines everything Eric tries to teach us about embracing the unknown.

I've been getting sore feet and ankles for the past few weeks, nothing I havn't been able to cope with but all the same my left foot in particular has been giving me some grief. I think it's because I've transitioned out of my orthotics altogether while I'm running, I haven't been wearing them at all no matter what the run might be. 

Last Sunday 22km into a 30km run my left foot became very sore around the ball of my foot and on the top just back from my toes. As a result and 24km I just had to stop the pain was too intense & I called my wife who came & picked me up. This week I've trained as per Eric's marathon program finding if I was strict in my form, really concentrating on it, I could manage any discomfort.

Then yesterday at work my feet were very sore particularly my left, with my left ankle feeling very week on the outside at the ankle bone. So I purchased an elasticated ankle brace and once on I had an instant feeling relief & support which made my day at work oh so much better. Then Last night walking down to have & back from dinner, I'm back working in the Gold Coast & Brisbane, my feet were again very tender, particularly the left.

This morning I woke with a small egg shaped swelling under the toe next to my big toe and tenderness on top of my foot near the ankle bone. I wanted to go out for the run that was planned as part of the program I mentioned above as it's 3 weeks today, Yike's, to I run the Melbourne Marathon but didn't want to make it worse. So after tooing & frowing not knowing what to do, I didn't want o make it worse but I needed the run, I'm running the Melbourne marathon in 3 weeks!!!!!!! did I tell you :-], so decided to give it a go. I said to myself if it's too uncomfortable I will stop walk back and I'll just have to rest it for a few days, not ideal, but you have to do what you have to do,...... right? 

So with my ankle brace on, wearing my old NB 1080's with my orthotics in and  a couple of Ibrufen tablets in my pocket, just in case, I set off at 6.35am. At first my left foot was very tender and uncomfortable but I concentrated on strict form and where my feet were landing. I tried to find the area's of the footpath with the least camber, I avoided the pram ramps when I crossed the road and I tried not to land on any surface that was raised or narrow. And after about 3-4km the discomfort in my feet and ankles started to gradually ease, eventually to the point I didn't notice any pain at all. I did however continue to concentrate of my form and cadence for the whole run.

I ran 32.2km in 3.14.06, stopping to drink as the Poweraid bottle I had & the 1 I bought along the way had no drinking cap & I did this so I could drink it without spilling it.  While I walked and drank I left my watch going as I did when crossing roads etc.

Now here's the thing, I went out truly having no clue what was going to happen, in fact before I went there was a point where I had almost convinced myself I wouldn't be able to run. I had no idea if I was going to get one step out of the door, 100m or a km down the road or if I was going to be ok. Now there was a time not that long ago where I just wouldn't have bothered. I would have said I won't be able to run so I won't try, I won't go and that me would have missed a fantastic run on a warm sun filled morning. That me wouldn't have got the affirmation that I can run 32km even when everything isn't exactly right, would have missed the valuable training session and missed the pure joy that is running itself.

I boarded a plane on Tuesday August 26th to travel across the world to race for 7 days in Madagascar.  It took 2 days to get there.  Over 25 hours sitting on planes!!!  Once I arrived I began to meet and bond with other racers.  Traveling in a developing country adds to the challenge.  Transportation, food, language .... are very different in Madagascar.  There is no organization, it is basically a free for all.  Many racers had to pay a bribe to get their race gear on the plane.  

The race organization pairs you with another runner for your first night.  My roommate was from Australia and currently lives in China.  We spent a good part of the day organizing are gear.  I had a little panic because my pack was 2 lbs heavier then hers and weighed in at 20 lbs without water.  After our official check in we were put into buses and transferred to our 1st camp.  Our 1st and 2nd camps were located on beaches by the Indian ocean.  We were greeted by locals and treated to a traditional dance ceremony.  At camp, we socialized with other racers, ate our 1st of 7 freeze dried meals, and settled into your tent with your new family for 7 days.  My tent had 3 men and 3 women. The men were from Israel, Britain, and the US.  The other women were from the US and Russia.  In all, there were 239 runners from 43 countries.

Wake up was around 5 am.  They dug 7 holes for the entire camp to do there business.  There were over 200 people in camp including volunteers and medics.  Those holes got pretty nasty. The morning routine included breakfast, packing your pack, taking care of your feet and a morning briefing on that days course. The race start was either 7 or 8 am.  

The first 4 days were around 25 miles, the 5th day was 50 miles and the last day was a 10k.  The weather was hot and humid.  At times, the temp reached in the high 90's.  I train at altitude and relatively cool temps.  I was really nervous about how I would respond to the heat.  My nutrition, hydration , and clothing were planned for heat and I ended up responding really well.  I did ditch my gaiters early on to save my feet from heating up and that ended up being a good thing.  The course was flat with lots of deep sand and dust.  There were also many river crossings.  I had some good falls.  I even got stuck in a rice patty.  I slipped off a log and instantly sunk to my hip in mud.  It took 2 people to pull me out.  I was lucky to keep my shoes.  Others were not so lucky.  I heard stories of people having to fish around to try and find their shoes.  There was a river crossing shortly after were I was able to wash up.

The course took us through many villages.  There was little to no western influence in these villages.  They lived in basic huts with no water or electricity.  Some of the villagers looked at us like we came from mars while others clapped and cheered for us.  During the 1st stage we ran with a local running group.  Most of them ran in flip flops.  There were times that the children would hold your hand and run with you through their village. We would stop and take pictures of them and show it to them.  They really loved to see themselves. 

A racer at camp said that the 1st three days took athleticism and the last 3 days were mental.  I would agree with this.  By day 3 you were breaking down.  Many people had feet that were destroyed from blisters, others were dealing with swelling, infections, dehydration, and bad stomachs.  You are tired, hungry, hot, and REALLY DIRTY.  You are given water to drink but nothing to clean up with.  In these conditions you have to be mentally tough.  Most racers have a moment where they want to quit and you have to fight those feelings.  Unfortunately, some do have to stop.   I think 40 people did not finish.

I went to Madagascar to experience another culture, create new friendships and to race.  I accomplished them all.  I have grown as a person because of this experience. Traveling alone and racing in a developing country so far from home has given me new found confidence.  I am ready for my next cool impossible!!!

My race results.  I was 27th overall, 5th women overall, and 1st in my age group .

Week 1 Phase 1

Running:

Yesterday I did the long run concluding week 1 of my TCI-journey. Quite fun to follow a specific and professional training plan for the first time of my life. Since I did a short 9,3 km trail-race on wednesday (finished 9th out of 60!) I had to alter this weeks program a little. Had an average bpm of 191 during the race, and legs felt heavy the next 3 days. Therefor I spent a total of 9 days to complete week 1, as I needed two extra days off.  

Positive and negative experiences:

I have a 2 year old son, and this week I tried to be effective and ran the 8 km roundtrip to and from the kindergarden. This is on asphalt and it clearly was a bad idea, as I felt a vague sense of achilles tendinitis and plantar fasciitis in my left foot the next day. No more asphalt for me! Never had such problems before. As for the speed I was surprised at how fast I could run effortless in BPM-zone 2 when I relaxed and focused on technique, this was a real eye-opener, and I am constantly improving.

Strenght training:

I have done my core-excerises every other day, but need to spend more time working on leg-strength with the balance and slant boards. Today is a day off, but gonna start week 2 tomorrow, and looking forward to it! 

The numbers:

Running days: 6

Average hr: 152 (max 204)

Total duration: 7 hr 15 min

Total distance: 75 km

Total ascent: 950 m

as usual, it is 3:30 am post race and after several hours of trying to sleep I have given up. Small fits of sleep interrupted by dreams of rocks, roots, amazing views, the sudden catch of a toe and the sense of falling, then jerking wide awake. These post race dreams used to frighten and frustrate me, now they simply cause a sigh and sometimes a giggle reminding me of the crazy adventure I just laid out. I saw views from places that most never dare venture, and even fewer do on foot over the course of a single day. So here’s how it went for me….

Race starts in Big Sky Montana. Race directors Mike Foote and Mike Wolfe sought out to create the most difficult 50k in the U.S. Karl Meltzer’s Speedgoat has been touted as the toughest. Having done both this year, when asked which is tougher, I will say, “The one you are doing that day”. I completed this course faster than Speedgoat, but easier? Uhhhh. I did not fear for my life at Speedgoat. I did here. I am afraid of heights and spiders. Fortunately, no spiders on this course.

Race started at 6:05 am. It was below freezing and dark. I had slept well and felt well prepared for this day. We took off on the first climb. 2 miles up single track trail. Runners chatting and joking and settling in to our respective climbing grooves. A trail of headlamps lighting the way. I felt very comfortable on this climb, I knew it would be the easiest of the day. At the top we could see all of Big Sky resort area. We hit some double track dirt roads and descended down onto more single track, through tall grass, trees, and condos. People on their balconies, cheering us on as we came back down into the Madison Village area. My stomach/gut was the only problem starting to arise. Something I ate the night before or breakfast wasn’t settling well and I was starting to have mild to moderate intermittent sharp stomach and intestine pain and cramps. The jarring of running downhill wasn’t helping. I don’t think I slowed much if any, I’ve experienced this before and usually with time (or a trip to the trees) everything settles down. It was making it difficult to get calories in though. I stuck with sport drink called Tailwind, giving me about 200 calories per hour and 20 ounces of water per hour. Any sort of solid, even gels were not going to stay down.

Todd and the kids had planned to meet me at most aid stations, all except the first would require a tram or ski lift ride. Tried as we might, we could not coax our 7 year old Avery to ride the lifts, so the only aid station I would have a shot at seeing them would be the first one at mi 8. I rolled in there and filled my water bottle. The next aid station would be 4 miles away and be a water only aid station. The next full aid station would be at mi 18. No Todd or kids to be seen. I was a bit bummed, but continued on. Within a half mile there they were! I was surprised and thrilled to see them. Big hugs and kisses and on I went.

The next climb to mi 12 again would be a more gradual ascent on mostly single track through tall grass, and forest pines. I chatted some with other runners, as we passed each other going up. We hit the water only aid and I topped off and continued on up onto a dirt road leading to our first steep ascent, the Headlands section. I met a runner from Vancouver, she was having a hard time. She said, “I’m tired, I drove 20 hours and arrived yesterday”. I could tell she was worried as she was not feeling as well as she’d hoped. I told her, You have already completed the first ⅓ of the course. She looked up in shock, “Really?’. Yes really. Break it into sections. Only 2 sections left. This next ⅓ is the hardest section, it’s ok, we’re gonna be tired and it’s gonna be hard, but then the last ⅓ is all downhill except for 1 shorter steep climb that won’t be as difficult as anything we will have done. Just hunker down, and know this next section is gonna be tough. It's ok.  Once you get through it, it gets much easier. I could tell she was relieved at least a bit, and we chatted a bit more. It is a crazy thing, how your perspective changes during these long races. 1 mile can literally seem like 50. I have been on courses for 7-8 hours having run 28 miles. Knowing the finish line is only 3 miles away should bolster confidence and relief, but there have been times that the thought of running 3 more miles was overwhelmingly far and even inconceivable.

The stomach pains were increasing in frequency and severity. Fortunately, with climbing there was less jarring. I was starting to ask other runners, “do you happen to have any tums?” Nope. Climb on. “Any tums?”,  “uhh no”. Then we hit it. The headwaters section of the trail. Photo credit to Christian Griffith. See the tiny people...er...colored dots? Loose scree on top of gravel/dirt made most steps a slide and the rest a real grunt.

Painfully slow and steep. Trying not to set loose slides that would at the very least aggravate other runners behind, at worst harm them. It was cold and windy. The views were stunning and unearthly. Because of the height and the technicality, I had a hard time looking away from the scree wall in front of me. A lot of hands and feet climbing... and sliding. We finally peaked at around 10,000 ft, my sense of relief was cut short by what lie ahead. A line of runners working their way via a rope line down a crag in the mountain. The only way down. My gloves were not the grippy kind. They were ski gloves with smooth texture. I made my way down hanging on to rope and rock, knowing if I lost my footing I was going a long way down the even harder way. About halfway down, I heard “Rock!” I looked up just in time to dodge a watermelon size boulder coming at a rapid rate careening off the rocks above. I instinctively yelled “Rock!” as well, and fortunately we all avoided it somehow or other. A huge sense of relief coming off that and seein

g the single track ahead, thank goodness that is over! I thought. That sense of relief was far too short lived, as the single track was slick and steep. Very loose fine sand/gravel, mud. I slipped and slid and fell sliding on my ass many times...along with everyone else. Finally, we made it to a dirt road and we started a gradual climb up. At this point I was starting to think my stomach issues were not going to go away. Sharp pains and cramping at mile 16 had me off trail looking for trees. I know this is TMI for most,  but all who have run, short or far have or have or will likely experience GI issues on a race course at some point. It’s just part of it. Fortunately, after the call to nature,  I was feeling better and thinking that maybe I did not actually have appendicitis or some other exotic and surely life threatening ailment I had concocted in my brain over the previous 16 miles. Bad food was the least creative of ailments I had contemplated. Much more exciting to be life flighted off the mountain, rushed to surgery, and returned to the mountain in time to complete the race. That was the scenario that required the most miles to concoct...Instead, GI distress relieved by a trip to the trees, and runner returned to the course. Cross the chocolate pop-tart off the list of foods to eat pre-race. Hey... judge ye not...choices for breakfast in a hotel at 3am are quite limited and at 9pm in the convenience store, with desert on my mind, pop-tarts sounded like a good choice.

And so we climbed, up to the tram dock aid station at mi 18ish. With my GI distress relieved, I finally ate some solid food. Pringles, cola and a little water. Back dowwwwn the dirt road, mentally preparing for what I anticipated would be the most difficult climb I have ever done. The plan was for me to run this course in a way that I could really race the last 10 miles. The last 10 miles would be mostly down hill and here lies my strength. I am one hell of a slow climber (someday I will be a s

trong/fast climber), but I CAN fly downhill..the more technical the better. It’s like everything is in slow motion when I go downhill. I can see every rock and root in detail, I can gauge how it is going to move when my foot hits it and where to place my next 3 foot steps. It’s a crazy wonderful feeling.

So onward and upward. I moved slow, trying to maintain an even, steady effort without having to stop and gasp for air. Initially it wasn’t so bad. Very steep, but good footing. Then we hit the ridge, I believe it is called “bone crusher ridge”. Here lie a truly terrifying experience for me. It was mostly loose talus (think of a deep pile of broken clay pots with sharp edges in all directions, the pieces do not break when you step on them, they just slide and move). There is no “best place” to put your foot. We were getting close to 11,000 ft. The wind blowing in all directions. thousands of feet down on either side of you as you walk precariously across the spine of a mountain. This spine would narrow in to simply jagged boulders jutting up, like monsters teeth, requiring some bouldering skills I know nothing about. It’s one thing to walk across broken clay pots at 11,000 feet.  

It’s a whole ‘nuther level of crazy to cross jagged boulders with thousands of  feet drops on either side. It was at this moment I stopped. Perched on a jagged boulder, looking at numerous more jagged boulders ahead. no ropes. I froze. I couldn’t fathom moving forward. Then I suddenly remembered a good friend, James Reeves. I was suddenly back at Hobbs State Park, on the War Eagle 25k trail run. I had blown myself up running as hard and fast as I could, and I was coming up the last little bitty hill. I started to hike, my legs were jello and just had no run at that point. Out of nowhere I heard James yelling, “Enlow! get your ass up here!” I saw him and heard him on that mountain, “Enlow, get your ass up here!” and I started moving again. I knew James wouldn’t be there to greet me, but the aid station at the tippy top was a welcome substitute.  Here's Killian Jornet making it look like child's play!

GI distress gone, more pringles and cola in, and off down the other side I went. 

2-3 more miles of loose talus fields and sand down I went. I passed every single person that passed me on the way up and a few more. I started to thaw out and warm up a little as we descended. My shoes were getting loads of sand in them. At the bottom, I saw several runners emptying their shoes. I sat down and joined them and we emptied our pillage. Shoes back on and off running again. One little popper hill, then down again to mile 25.  

The final steep climb lie ahead. Andesite Mt. Fortunately, It would only be a 1 mile climb, however, it is close to a thousand foot climb over that single innocent mile. On the way up, we would have the distinct pleasure of enduring what signage says is  a “downhill only” mountain bike trail. “downhill only” and normally “no hikers allowed” because it is really

#$@! ing steep and there is no way a mountain biker can go up it….on his/her bike, and heaven help the poor hiker that  misses the sign and ignorantly tries to climb while a biker is coming down. It was muddy and slick and there were several sections that required a rope to climb. I encountered the first of these sections. “Really?” 25 miles and God only knows how many thousands of feet of vertical climbing and descending my legs have done and now I have to climb a mud hill using a rope to hoist myself? This is where I broke down and cursed the race directors. I grabbed the rope and reminded myself as I laughed, “Lori, now use your LEGS to climb, not your arms”, bwahahahaha. I believe there were 3 rope climbing sections on that course. I cursed race director Mike Wolfe on the first one, Mike Foote on the second and Karl Meltzer on the 3rd for inspiring the previous 2 to try to come up with a course more difficult than Speedgoat. . I got a little dehydrated on this climb, ran out of water, and was feeling pretty wiped out. I had 5 miles left, but of course that seemed like 500. I drank plenty of water at the aid station up top, took some ibuprofen, ate chips, drank cola. I looked back down the mountain I had just climbed and saw several girls I had played hopscotch with all day. NO WAY was I going to let them get me again! I took off down Andesite. I ran as fast as I could catching a few more runners. No sight of the girls as I looked back, but just paranoid enough to keep moving as fast as I could to the finish. Ethan and Avery caught me about ¼ mile from the finish and they ran with me, Ethan telling me to “run faster”. The crowd was amazing! They were yelling, horns blowing, cow bells ringing as we ran past, straight through the finish! 9:16 minutes and done!!!! I snagged 5th female in my age division at an international race in a climate I had only tasted at Speedgoat. What an amazing day! The most amazing race I have ever completed.

Here the kids are running mommy to the finish...

I got the opportunity to visit Tuba City, Arizona this week. Met some wonderful folks at the Tuba City Hospital. Tuba city is on the Navajo reservation, about 70 miles northeast of Flagstaff. After visiting the hospital, I drove around town, trying to plot out the next morning's run. Not much to the town, but more than many rez towns I have been to. I couldn't help but smile seeing all the dogs. Rez towns are notorious for the number of dogs roaming. Driving around reminded me of time I spent as a child living on a Northern Ute reservation.  I noticed numerous dirt trail roads heading away from the houses and out into the desert. I could see beautiful sandstone formations beyond town. Trails of all kinds into the desert beckoned. I made my way past a few houses...and dogs and found this trail.

THIS is where I will start, I thought.......

I sent a message to Shaun Martin, who knows all the rez trails like the back of his hand and he assured me to go, "just take pepper spray for the dogs" was his only caution.

Friday morning I took off just as the sun was coming up. It is Navajo tradition to run to the East to meet the sunrise. The Navajo offer prayers and yell to let the sun know of their presence and gratitude. I prayed and greeted the sun, but did not want to let the dogs also know of my presence, so I did not let out a Ayeeee! as I have in the desert before. I made my way through various types of sand...hard packed, damp, super soft beach-like and hard sandstone rock and everything in between. I followed ATV tracks, human tracks nad horse tracks, always keeping in mind the position of the sun, the time spent in this direction or that, and the location of the formations I was encountering. At times I made deep swipes in the red sand to mark a turn or signal my direction across intersecting trails. I got the impression I could run forever through the desert on those trails. It was amazing and beautify. Here are some of the pics I took....m

Well, after a couple of days off in agony following my total failure to read TCI properly (see previous blog) I have now completed the first two weeks of my transition to performance running.

Incoming mail 1
The small wooden half-ball I ordered online arrived meaning I could finalise my homemade stability board to match the slant board I’ve been using: I think it will be some time before I need it, but it’s ready when I am.

Strength work
The foot and leg strengthening exercises are amazing, they look so easy on paper, but I was struck by how weak I felt only being able to balance on the slant board with two poles for 20 odd seconds. It was also weird that by simply balancing, the ’burn’ can be felt not only in the foot and ankle, but right up through the leg into the glutes - incredible. Another thing I noticed (to my great relief) was how quickly improvements were realised - after a couple of weeks I can already complete more reps and balance for longer - though I'm still some way off 2 minutes and switching to one pole for balance.

Performance running
Having shared my lesson learned in an earlier post, I can now report that my runs have been strictly limited to 15 minutes each, maybe 20 on a good day. Yes I can feel my soleus and calf muscles working during the run, and they’re sore the following day, but they’re recovering quickly each time and not tender to the touch like last time.

A couple of observations:

Firstly, I find it really hard to run slowly enough. Now I’m not saying I’m a quick runner (far from it) but to run sufficiently slowly that I’m able to breathe through my nose and really concentrate on form, is something quite alien to me - I understand the reasons, but I feel a bit self conscious when I’m going so slowly especially as I feel like I’m prancing with my new forefoot strike. I’m not sure what my running partner (pictured) makes of it all.

Secondly, I also find it really difficult to accept that my mileage is limited so dramatically and the temptation to run further with bad form is pretty high. I guess patience is the name of the game and once the new technique has been fully embedded, then the weekly mileage can increase more rapidly than in traditional (+10%) programmes. I’ve been fortunate enough to be able to get out on the bike a couple of times and also put in some swimming miles to retain some cardio fitness.

Incoming mail 2
Second item to fall on the doorstep was my shiny new B2R trail shoes which look weird and wonderful in equal measure - I haven’t worn them yet and will definitely be transitioning slowly, I’ll update you with progress next time.

Preliminary tests:

5 km:

Max bpm: 200

Avr. bpm: 190

1 mile:

Time: 5:51

My Movescount

Background:

1 year ago, on the 7th of September 2013 I ran my first ultramarathon here in Denmark. It was "only" 54 km long, and with a positive altitude gain of 1,300 m. I finished, but was more dead than alive when I crossed the finish line. Even though it was a mixed experience, I got hooked on trail-running, and I have been racing a number of competitions since that time. 

I have a flair for running, and got a lot of speed in my legs - this is part genetic, and part due to a very active childhood. Now I am 27, and I want to take a step up to the next level with my running. Since I am extremely competitive, my main motivation is winning races. Luckily I also enjoy training for these ;-)

Results:

2014 has been a very good season for me, with a 4th place (250 starting teams) finish in a 24 hour race in Norway, a 6th place (50 starting teams) in a two-day orieentering race in Denmark and 4th place (50 starters) in a 36 km trail race in Denmark this Saturday. 

The Cool Impossible:

My main motivation and goal for the first part of 2015 is the well-known ultra race 'Transgrancanaria' on the Island with the same name in March. I will run one of the shorter distances (44 km) with a positive altitude gain of 1,300 hm. My goal is to finish the race in sub-4 hours. As I like following recipies, I will try out the training program from 'The Cool Impossible' to achieve my goal, starting at week 1. 

This Friday and Sunday I will run the two tests, and subsequently I'll start the program. Hopefully, I will update this blog along with my progress. It is solely a way for me to evaluate and control my training, but if it could inspire others it would be great ;) Feel free to comment along the way, and fire loose if you have questions!

Today marks the end of my first week of the Strategic Running Foundation program's phase 1.

My initial test results (last week) were:

One-Mile Run
Average HR = 171 bpm

Max HR = 180 bpm

Total Time =  8:42

20-Minute Run

Average HR = 163 bpm

Max HR = 173 bpm

Average Min / Mile =  10:10 min / mi

Total Distance = 1.97 miles

As you can see, I have plenty of room for improvement.  Thus far I'm pleased with the steady improvement in my HRZ 2 run pace from this week.

My HRZ 2 paces for the week:

Day 1 = 16:00

Day 2 = 16:03

Day 5 = 14:34

Day 6 = 13:18

Wouldn't it be nice if that 17% improvement were to continue every week?  I'm not sure if it's due to more mitochondria helping me out along the way, or if I'm just getting more comfortable running slowly.  Either way,I'm looking forward to to continuing to prepare for my 2nd ever half-marathon at the end of January.

Three - four weeks ago I  bought a new pair of NB 1090-V4 which have an 8mm drop and ever since then I have been running without any orthotics at all. Before then, I have for some time, not used orthotics in my day to day shoes but in my runners which were NB 1080-V3, I was still wearing them.

Since early April when I received my B2R Trail shoes I have been slowly transitioning into them while still using the NB 1080 with my orthotics. Most weeks I run at least 1 session if not 2 in my B2R trail shoes while doing the slant board exercises to strengthen my feet.

However now I do not wear any orthotics at all other than in my work boots and I would never have believed you if you would have told me before discovering TCI that in a little under a year this would be the case.

My feet do get sore after my runs, I'm following Eric's marathon program, but it does not last and by the next day generally my feet are fine. Sometimes they are still a little sore when I set out on a training session but they soon settle down once warmed up.

As part of the marathon program, once a week I run barefoot for 30-40 min which I really enjoy, when I'm away and I have no where to run the sessions barefoot I run in my B2R's with no socks.

I had set myself a goal to run the Melbourne Marathon on the 12th of October in the B2R's but I don't think Ill be quite ready. The transition may be slower that others but I'm well and truly on my way to running orthotic less using the B2R Trail shoes full time.

And this is something I could not have imagined before discovering Eric and The Cool Impossible.

It's taken 8 months of strength training and limiting myself to 4 x 30 minute runs per week when injury pain would allow to actually start on the Foundation Program.  I suppose I could have started sooner but each time I tried to push myself during that period with hill sprints or strides I'd experience another injury flare up and knew that something just wasn't right with my technique. I wanted to start when I knew that I'd be able to see it through.

I still have some lingering foot niggles but nothing that's actually getting worse with running.  

When I did the 2 tests I was surprised to see that I wasn't off the chart in terms of speed (8.10 for the one mile test) but nearly for heart rate, just snuck in at the 150 average for the 20 minute test.  

Now I'm 2 weeks into the Foundation program and really enjoying it.  Love the variety and the challenge of it.  

The long day 6 run feels kind of odd and a bit like prancing.  I find myself speeding up every time I see another runner, no matter how fast they're going!  But even after 2 weeks I can already see that I've improved slightly week on week - lower average HR, higher average pace, average cadence better and stride length about the same all while adding another 15 minutes in length.  

I'm curious to see what kind of runner I can become with good run form and a solid training program.  Feels good to be excited by running again!

So, time to make a start on the Cool Impossible journey

Essential equipment:

• GPS watch and heart rate monitor - Got
• The Cool Impossible - Got
• Ski poles - Got
• Swiss ball - Borrowed
• Slant board - Need
• Stability board - Need
• Minimal running shoes - Need

A Compromise:
Checking on the B2R website, I couldn’t source (for UK delivery) the slant board and stability board without buying a set of three DVDs totalling 144 Euros, adding shoes as well was going to make it 265 Euros. I can’t justify this outlay just yet, so my compromise has been to make homemade slant and stability board and invest in the B2R trail shoes. Some fantastic instructions on sizes and techniques on this site (thank you Patrick Garrett), coupled with my limited but enthusiastic carpentry skill I am now the proud owner of a slant board. My B2R trail shoes are on order (free delivery and currently 35% off European orders - Excellent).

A Revelation:
Time to take the first step (literally), I’m still in my existing shoes (Asics Nimbus, super soft, super comfortable, high drop, everything I previously looked for in a shoe, now everything I have to avoid!). I re-read the relevant sections in the book, I memorised the 5 phases, I painted a mental picture, I visualised the drills.

For the 5 years I’ve been running, I never actually thought about how I run, I know I heel strike, I know I’m pretty big for a runner, and I know my previous injuries are almost certainly down to poor form. I’m about to try something different and I’m both excited and anxious.

Well, I set out for my 30 minute run, I walked a little to warm up, I was covering some concrete, but mostly grass to soften the impact, I started to run….

• Forefoot strike - so far so good, feels weird but I guess that’s to be expected
• Then let the heel drop - How is that ever going to work? Oh I see, by not striding out so far in front. Right, so over-striding is another of my problems
• Drive the knees - OK, I get it, that helps bring the leg through ‘on plane’ rather than those ugly little semi-circles I’ve only ever known
• Take off and arm carry, these seem to happen a bit more naturally

This feels weird, but good weird, I think even during the first few hundred yards I’m running better than I ever have. A genuine bona fide revelation. Had to check my pace now and then, started to pant like my dog on a hot day.

I can definitely feel my calves and soleus working like they never have, I’m half way into my route and fatigue is already impacting my form - ‘Awareness’ that’s what Eric kept saying, slow down and focus on form, keep running over those logs, keep the knees driving.

Well I finished my half hour, I felt incredible, I’d done it, I’d made the first step to correcting the way I move, lots to learn, lots to work on, lots to strengthen and lots to commit to memory, and one very important lesson…..

My First Mistake
When I woke up the following morning, my calves were on fire, I went down the stairs on my backside! I hobbled to put the kettle on, and I was desperate to find the book I thought I’d read so carefully. I found the chapter I wanted, ‘Performance Running’ I searched for the section on ‘schedule’ I and found exactly what I knew I’d read. “The goal is four runs a week at a length of thirty minutes”, I read it again. OK, maybe I was a couple of minutes over, but how the heck can I be in so much pain after one session following the book to the letter?

Then I spot it, the very next sentence, it’s now jumping off the page at me “Begin with a five to ten minute run to see how the body responds to new form”… “Once you are comfortable for ten minutes, add five minutes every week or so to build up to a half hour”.

Well, lesson learned. Guess the first stability session will have to wait a couple of days!

How do you help someone who doesn't want any help?

Possibly an unusual question to ask in a blog about running, but bear with me - I've been thinking some about a run last weekend and I reckon it's a question I'd like to open up to you guys.

Sunday morning, around 4am, was the start of my latest run to a nearby(ish) local beach, at Saunton. This is the same route that I wrote about here, incidentally. Having been up an hour earlier than planned, at 2.30, and unable to then get any more sleep before getting out of bed around an hour later, I was still feeling pretty rough around the edges as I met up with a couple of friends on the square of our town.

I say a couple of friends; it was a friend and a new friend really: I've known and run with Lee for a long time, but this was the first time I'd gone out running with Marcus. A friend of Lee's himself, I'd met him a couple of weeks back, when he'd approached me with 'I think I follow you on Twitter' and it had turned out that since March, he'd been starting his own journey towards planned ultra-greatness. Between the two of them, Marcus came along as he'd said he wanted the two of us to go out running soon and this would be his furthest distance run so far, at 30km; Lee is always up for pretty much anything, and he'd thought that a long night/dawn run would be a good craic.

After making sure we were all set to go, we started running through the darkness, along the river that passes through the town in the direction of its estuary in the beach that we would eventually reach.

We were running pretty easily (the route's pretty much dead flat on smooth terrain for a lot of it) and chatting away happily - making the time pass much more quickly than on solo runs. We made it to about the 8km mark before Lee started pulling up short and complaining that his knee was starting to give him some trouble along the outside - this continued until we reached the next town over, at around 10km.

We didn't really know what to do - Lee didn't want to stop; he was still game for reaching the beach and we were perfectly happy having the occasional walking break between running bursts, so there wasn't too much of a problem. Although I don't think he'd consider it his primary sport, Lee's a good, quick runner, at least over shorter distances (he rinsed his section of Man Versus Horse a little while back) so we weren't overly concerned - none of us really wanted to admit that aside from simply turning around and walking back, there wasn't really much of an alternative anyway.

This is where my current thoughts and the subject of this blog stemmed from: while Marcus and I had lights, Lee hadn't brought a torch and declined an offer of a spare to use; he turned down a drink from our water when he had none. He started insisting that Marcus and I left him to walk on as we were within a kilometre of the beach and then when we reached it, where we eventually took the decision to leave him to walk and get the first bus home, it was a struggle to get him to eat any food to try and stop him getting cold as he waited.

After that description, I should be very clear: I mean to imply no foolishness or any other negative qualities on Lee's part. He's not pig-headedly proud, he's just one of those guys who rarely accepts offers of assistance - and this brings me to my point.

What do we do in these situations? In a community such as running, we all see it all as far as requirements for assistance go, all across the spectrum. From being insistent that someone needs help (when their own personal experience is making them just as sure that they don't), to trying to decide who's doing the right thing for whom by a group splitting into the 'stand-a-chance-of-winnings' and the 'just-want-to-finishes', to a struggler keeping their mouth shut for fear of pestering someone that would quite eagerly help if they knew it was required, to even experienced runners who occasionally need to be told it's time to take on a few calories and that the end isn't that close yet.

How do we know which situation we're in? On the understanding that everyone, young and old, novice or veteran, can learn from each other, how easy is it to spot when you're the one who needs to offer help or guidance and when you're the one to take it?

Krissy Moehl has written a good, honest account here of her recent ill-fated FKT attempt on the John Muir Trail with Jenn Shelton and the emotional turmoil of taking a turn on the side of needing help; of not wanting to have to 'give up' when with someone else (she describes it in far, far better and more accurate ways than I've done here). On another hand, at Badwater, DNF stands for 'Did Nothing Fatal', highlighting the perils of not recognising the need for help at the right time.

To get super philosophical for a second and reference Seneca:

...yet as recruits cry aloud when only slightly wounded, and shudder more at the hands of the surgeon than at the sword, while veterans even when transfixed allow their hurts to be dressed without a groan, and as patiently as if they were in someone else's body, so now you ought to offer yourself courageously to be healed...

Experience lends itself to taking courage in being healed, to being brave enough to accept help.

By contrast again, though, what about the average age of the engineers and scientists who worked to put a man on the moon - 28! Certain companies (especially tech-centred businesses) deliberately mirror this youthful workplace today, specifically to ensure that they're staffed by thinkers who haven't been shown what they can't do yet; who still don't know their own limitations, even if that means they can't recognise when they need the old doctor.

I guess I'm not trying to say that either end of the spectrum is right or wrong, I just found it interesting to consider the nature of how experience works and moves amongst runners after this weekend. After Marcus and I grudgingly left Lee at the beach and made our way back at a comfortably brisk pace, it was interesting to see slight old parallels of myself in Marcus. To hear him relaying familiar ideas through a new voice and to very much hear the 'don't know their own limitations' side of things coming through. The fact that 30km was his furthest so far, but he's very adamant that ultras are where his heart lies. Dreaming beyond fear and living beyond limits, for sure.

I think I'd rather stay on that side for a while longer yet.

- Ben

...heh heh, I actually said 'thinking some' back up there at the start - look at me, all American and such - you guys are obviously rubbing off on me.