I was bummed not being able to run Mt Washington on Saturday. Conditions were ideal. DaveP ran 1:27 on less running than I've done. Impressive effort. After the Cannon Mt hillclimb a week ago, I thought the massive blister on the back of my right heel would have foiled my Mt Washington event, not a calf injury. Fortunately, my calf injury does not seem to be bothered by riding at all. Strange. Saturday I still had to be careful going down stairs, but riding up mountains? No problem.
Being such a fine day, I wanted to take advantage of the situation and hit some big, steep climbs I haven't done in a while. I drove over to Mt Ascutney in Vermont. My legs were pretty tired, as I was still able to do some pretty high intensity work on the bike on Thursday despite a messed up calf. I took my heavy training bike with the Power Tap, weighing in at 19.0 lbs.
After a brief warmup, I hit Mt Ascutney first. I forgot I didn't have a compact crank on that bike. Ugh. I did have a MTB cassette on back though, so my cadence wasn't going to drop too ridiculously low. I could use the high-force/low-cadence work anyway. I figured I'd just go easy, maybe average 350W.
Yeah, right. I held 369W first mile. Average dropped to 350W at mile two, then plummetted after that as the grade slackened. I reached the top with a 335W average and was surprised I went over 30 minutes. I knew my legs were tired, but I didn't think they were that tired.
A little math when I got back home suggests my lighter hillclimb bike will take 30-40 seconds off. Then I need to come up with 7% more power to break 28 minutes, my goal next month. That seems like a stretch right now.
I grabbed some food and water bottles and headed over to Okemo via Tyson Rd. Seems no road in Vermont escaped the wrath of Irene. Parts of Tyson Rd were washed out and temporarily repaired with gravel fill. The descent towards Ludlow was still in pretty good shape though, and is one of the best around. Reminds me of some of the Alps descents.
The Ascutney effort had fully caught up to me by the time I reached the base of Okemo, another 4mi, 12% climb. It was getting warm too. I was going to die on this one with my gearing and trashed legs. There is a long 15-17% grade section in the middle of the climb that is trouble even with fresh legs during the race. Post ride analysis shows my cadence dropped to low 50's for extended periods of time on this climb. There's no way to keep power numbers up with that low of a cadence. It took me about 34 minutes to reach the end of the pavement, a fairly typical time when climbing Okemo after a hard effort on Ascutney.
After bombing down the totally crap pavement of Okemo, the highlight of the ride was next, stopping at Java Baba's. Vitamin Water and a monster homemade "energy" bar consisting of coconut, chocolate chips, nuts, graham cracker crust, oats, probably marshmallow holding all together, and more. No way could I eat all of it in one sitting.
I had to hit one more climb before heading back to Ascutney. I've never climbed Terrible Mtn/Rt 100 from town, only descended it. It is all in the sun, and Rt 100 is kind of busy, but the climb threw a couple more 12% punches to make sure my legs were cooked before I got back. Didn't win any Strava awards on this one, that's for sure. Bombing back down to town the same way was fun.
Scenic Rt 131 is taken back to Ascutney. By now I had a headwind. I was counting on tailwind to push me along at 30mph on this slight downhill grade, but instead, I had to burn more kilojoules at 20mph to get back. Legs were starting to cramp on the final 500ft climb flanking Mt Ascutney. I finished with about 77 miles, 8300ft of climbing, in 4.8 hours. I was in such an endorphin haze driving home I'm surprised I even remembered where I lived.
Thanks for the many great comments on my calf injury. They give me much to research and think about. I've been aggressively stretching my calves since the injury. Interestingly, I'm noticing now that I no longer have a limited dorsifexion in my left calf. Both of my calves are balanced. I wonder, is it possible I had some tight muscle strands left from my fracture in 2010 that let loose? I know as recently as a couple months ago, I had a few degrees less range of motion in my left calf. It is possible the amount of hillclimb running I did loosened it up too.
It is also interesting to note that I did not experience the disabling injuries while running uphill. Both the March and June episodes were on dead flat ground. No doubt running and hiking up 10-30% grades puts huge stress on calves, but I think it is the eccentric muscle contraction running on flat ground that does the final damage. So the question is, if I run only flat terrain, would my calf issues go away?
As of Sunday night, the pain is pretty much gone doing normal activities, including going down stairs. I may go out for an exploratory run on the office campus early in the week to see how it feels.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Levity
Seems a few of my colleagues have a little time on their hands these days. Even though they never met "Fat Doug," they believe this person still lives inside me, and he's fighting to come back. Since a small child, I've always had a reputation for voluminous eating habits. Eating volume hasn't changed the last 15 years since I shed over 70 pounds. I balance the eating with aerobic activity these days.
This masterpiece appeared this week in the office. Lots of inside humor here. Images of Kevin Sliech and I were taken at last year's CIGNA 5k race. Not sure where image of master chef Tom was taken. One day Rich (creator of masterpiece) and I were ridiculing one of Kevin's designs, and in frustration he rhetorically blurted "What are you guys, big F'n experts?" So now were known as BFE's in our group.
A while back, there was a push to bring Fat Doug back. A photo of what I once was appeared at the entrance to my office seeking edible donations of the sweet kind with a goal to reach 300 lbs. Very cleaver. The first day, I scored all kinds of good stuff, and with my lacking willpower, I ate most of it. Unfortunately, donations plummeted shortly after. I had to take this donation center home to photograph it, as cameras are not allowed in our facility.
This masterpiece appeared this week in the office. Lots of inside humor here. Images of Kevin Sliech and I were taken at last year's CIGNA 5k race. Not sure where image of master chef Tom was taken. One day Rich (creator of masterpiece) and I were ridiculing one of Kevin's designs, and in frustration he rhetorically blurted "What are you guys, big F'n experts?" So now were known as BFE's in our group.
A while back, there was a push to bring Fat Doug back. A photo of what I once was appeared at the entrance to my office seeking edible donations of the sweet kind with a goal to reach 300 lbs. Very cleaver. The first day, I scored all kinds of good stuff, and with my lacking willpower, I ate most of it. Unfortunately, donations plummeted shortly after. I had to take this donation center home to photograph it, as cameras are not allowed in our facility.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Out
My left calf exploded again. Literally, just running along, at conversation pace. This happened to me back in March without warning. Dave and I were half way out on an eight mile loop at lunch today when something popped in my left calf. It was so violent, I nearly hit the ground. Dave thought I got stung by a bee or something. Felt like an arrow right through the meaty part of the calf. I told Dave to keep going. I though maybe I could walk it out, but didn't realize how bad my calf was wrecked initially. I did not have my cell phone with me. It was a very long four mile hobble back to the office.
When this happened in March, it took a week for my calf to come around. And that was laying low. In four days, I'm supposed to run up Mt Washington. That was to be my capstone event for the summer. Now I'm out just like that. My calf is worse off than last time, and I don't want to provoke a season ending injury.
What is it about running? This random bullshit does not happen on the bike. Now I have to figure out why this recurs and try to prevent it from happening again. The more I learn about running, the more I'm convinced it is all about injury management, not really about enjoying exercise or training. It seems something is always getting broke and needs fixing and then constant preventative maintenance. I suspect at some point, long-time runners have a huge preventative maintenance check list. This does not sound like fun to me.
There is an eery similarity of training stress leading up to both the March and June calf blow-ups. These are:
If I continue running long term, I must figure this out. I thought I did a pretty good job stretching my calves. But maybe not. Did the huge hike-a-bike stress on Sunday (all toe push-off with heavy mountain bike) make my calves tight? Can muscle fibers get weakened with no sensation that something is about to pop? Did I take too much time off from running prior to each injury, maybe letting my calves tighten up? Who knows.
I've read calf injuries are far more prevalent in weekend warrior type athletes. My running could almost be classified as such. Perhaps on extended periods where I don't have planned training runs, I at least need to go out for an easy 2-3 miles. Maybe I need to stretch my calves before I run (I usually avoid stretching before I'm warmed up).
So here I am, trying to divine what went wrong on a hopelessly incomplete data set. This is probably no different than ancient mystic explaining how Earth, wind and fire worked. Not very happy right now. This might not seriously impact riding, but I can barely walk right now, let alone run.
When this happened in March, it took a week for my calf to come around. And that was laying low. In four days, I'm supposed to run up Mt Washington. That was to be my capstone event for the summer. Now I'm out just like that. My calf is worse off than last time, and I don't want to provoke a season ending injury.
What is it about running? This random bullshit does not happen on the bike. Now I have to figure out why this recurs and try to prevent it from happening again. The more I learn about running, the more I'm convinced it is all about injury management, not really about enjoying exercise or training. It seems something is always getting broke and needs fixing and then constant preventative maintenance. I suspect at some point, long-time runners have a huge preventative maintenance check list. This does not sound like fun to me.
There is an eery similarity of training stress leading up to both the March and June calf blow-ups. These are:
- Week or more of little to no running prior to injury
- Huge off-road hike-a-bikes in carbon soled shoes in days prior to injury
- First run after the light week produced unusual left calf pain and I ran through it
- Injury occurred on second run after light week, with no discomfort before hand
- Injury occurred 3-4 miles into easy run on flat terrain with no warning
My medial gastrocnemius muscle is extremely tender.
No bleeding evidence visible.
If I continue running long term, I must figure this out. I thought I did a pretty good job stretching my calves. But maybe not. Did the huge hike-a-bike stress on Sunday (all toe push-off with heavy mountain bike) make my calves tight? Can muscle fibers get weakened with no sensation that something is about to pop? Did I take too much time off from running prior to each injury, maybe letting my calves tighten up? Who knows.
I've read calf injuries are far more prevalent in weekend warrior type athletes. My running could almost be classified as such. Perhaps on extended periods where I don't have planned training runs, I at least need to go out for an easy 2-3 miles. Maybe I need to stretch my calves before I run (I usually avoid stretching before I'm warmed up).
So here I am, trying to divine what went wrong on a hopelessly incomplete data set. This is probably no different than ancient mystic explaining how Earth, wind and fire worked. Not very happy right now. This might not seriously impact riding, but I can barely walk right now, let alone run.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Franconia Sufferfest
Where do I start with this one? Back about 14 years ago when my affinity toward hills became strong, I sought out ski area climbs. I did not have a road bike. Dirt service roads provided the biggest climbs around. Many ski areas ran lifts back then too, for the downhill set. I could catch some of the easier trails back down for extra fun. I would draw all kinds of crazy comments at Killington while climbing, like "you bought the wrong pass!" Or "you're going the wrong way!"
Over the years, I hit virtually every ski area in New England. Day trips took me as far away as Sunday River and Sugarloaf in Maine. More recently, I hit Mt Sunapee (100% rideable) and Sugarbush (almost cleaned it).
Then this quirky event popped up on the calendar called the Franconia Sufferfest, sponsored by the Franconia Inn and Littleton Bike & Fitness. It started at the Franconia Inn and finished at the summit of Cannon Mountain. I had always wanted to bike up Cannon, now I had a perfect excuse to do it. Little did I know, the state-owned ski area did not allow bikes (or even hiking for that matter) on the ski slopes, except for this special event. The tram would have to be taken back down.
The race was open to runners and mountain bikers. I wasn't sure who would be faster. On pavement, runners reach parity with road cyclists at about 17% grade. On gravel with mountain bikes, parity is reached at a much less steep grade, around 10-12%. This is due to much heavier bikes with much higher rolling losses. The route up Cannon Mtn was about 21% average grade on very suspect surface. Clearly, runners would have a huge advantage here. If we started with a bike, we had to finish with a bike. So whether a biker would finish ahead of a runner or not depended on how much the rider could gain in the first four miles of the course which gained only 1000ft or so. Total course gained more than 3000 feet in 6 miles.
Sunday's weather was ideal for the event. Cloudless and perfect temps. Riders queued up along the grassy airstrip across the street from the Franconia Inn. Runners would go off in second wave a minute or two back. There were only 20-25 riders crazy enough to attempt this. There were at least twice as many runners. There was no shortage of talent on hand though.
We go off, heading down the grassy airstrip. It was a typical MTB race start, holeshot sprint to the singletrack. The deal was, I didn't think there'd be any singletrack. So I settled back. Pace was still very high, not something sustainable for more than an hour. We cut into the woods, and immediately the trail necks down to muddy singletrack with skinny plank bridges. Ah, that's why the locals bolted so hard. Actually, I was probably the kind of rider that they wanted to put behind them.
I didn't recognize anybody there, so before the race, I asked race director Dave Harkless who I should watch. He pointed out Greg Jancaitis, a Cannondale rider, and a couple local guys in Dutch Treat jerseys, Justin Kline being one of them. Before long, there were only five of us pushing an aggressive pace on slick trails in a dense hemlock forest. The pace waned a bit, I moved up to fourth place, then third. The grade was very steep, and I was deeply anaerobic. I thought these kids were going to kill me out here. At some point, somebody had to relent just a little. They did. Not sure who was up front, either Greg or Justin, but I pounced on the opportunity and came to the front to ensure pace didn't drop too much. I must have kept the pace up pretty good, as a little while later, it was just Greg, Justin and I with nobody else in sight.
We reached a downhill with a very abrupt, rooty right hand turn. It caught me off-guard and I totally bobbled the turn. Greg and Justin bolted on ahead. I lost many seconds getting going again. We reached another longer, fairly treacherous downhill. Ferns obscured the greasy rocks and roots. I had never ridden here, so I dared not let my speed run out, being the delicate roadie I've become. I hemorrhaged many seconds in a brief time. I pretty much relegated myself to third place at that point. I could match Greg and Justin aerobically, but not technically.
We hit some heinous grades in the woods at one point, like 2.5mph kind of stuff, barely keep the front wheel down. It hurt so bad, as I didn't want to walk. I took a look back to see if anybody was coming up, as at that pace, two minutes back is not much distance. Nobody. But in looking back, I wobbled right off the trail into trees. Idiot. Do you think I could get started again? Noooo! Greg and Justin were gone now.
We finally popped out at the base of the Mittersill ski area. Reviewing the course profile before hand, I knew that there was around a mile of almost "flat" terrain cutting across the Mittersill ski slopes to the Peabody lodge at Cannon. This is where I thought good time would be made up on runners, as surely I'd be able to go 15-20mph here. Not a chance. It was soft, mushy grass. 5mph required about 350W input. It was such a demoralizer, as I knew what was just minutes away.
The turn to go up for real came way too soon. Right up the ski slope fall-line. I saw Greg and Justin walking almost immediately. I hoped this was just a brief spat at the bottom. Soon I learned, this was not to be.
We pushed, and pushed, and pushed. My GPS told me the grade at times was over 30%. The trail was loose cantaloupe rocks half the time. It was easier to push the bike in the grass along the eroded ATV track. A third of the way up was a water stop. I think I was able to ride my bike for about 5 seconds there before jumping off again. My 29er doesn't gear nearly as low as my 26" dualie, but no gearing option would make a difference here. I was aerobically max'd out at 2.5mph. Justin had even less hope than riding it as I, as he had a 1x9 drive train.
I did slowly gain on Justin. I did not seem to make any progress on Greg. The gain he made on me in the woods was what he held to the summit. On the open ski slopes, it was easy to see where everybody was. Next rider was many minutes back.
I was wearing almost new carbon sole shoes, and I could tell they were getting trashed. They weren't broken in yet, and the my heels were badly chafing. Half way up, I could tell I was already getting blisters on the back of my heels. My calves were getting destroyed too. This bothered me deeply, as the Mt Washington foot race was less than a week away.
About 75% up Cannon, I caught Justin at about a 0.01mph speed differential. We talked a little, then realized heavy breathing was coming up behind us. It was Richard Morris, the first runner to finish. Guess my suspicions were right. A bike is a big handicap to lug up this mountain, and that was based on assuming the bike could be ridden. Richard passed Justin and I quite decisively. I don't think he passed Greg before the finish, but because he started minutes back, was still faster than Greg. I reached the summit with enough margin on Justin to zip up the jersey before crossing the line. My time was 1:13:14, pretty close to the 1:15 I estimated. I finished 2nd biker and third overall runners and bikers. I was so glad that was over.
The spectacular view and weather helped take some of the sting out of the slog that just happened. This spring I commented that I did the biggest hike-a-bike (HAB) ever in Arizona when I took a "short cut" back to the car to retrieve Dave. Well, that was NOTHING compared to this 2000ft HAB. In fact, Cannon was a bigger HAB than my three previous biggest HABs combined! No more than 2% of the ski mountain was rideable. Lower gear, fatter, softer tires, maybe would net 5% rideability. But it won't make you faster than a good runner.
I was not disappointed in doing the event. The course was very well marked and marshaled at tricky spots. The event was well organized, and there was good food afterwards at the Franconia Inn. I guess I was disappointed in thinking I could actually ride up Cannon. Silly me. I've skied it many times, so I know how steep it is. I may go back next year, minus a bike. I think I can run it faster than I biked it. I'd run it just for the morbid curiosity of experiment alone.
This event forced me to put another 2000ft of vertical credits in the bank. With Pack Monadnock a week earlier, I've climbed about 3500ft more than descended. This entitles me to one free 3500ft shuttle ride at some point in the future.
Over the years, I hit virtually every ski area in New England. Day trips took me as far away as Sunday River and Sugarloaf in Maine. More recently, I hit Mt Sunapee (100% rideable) and Sugarbush (almost cleaned it).
Then this quirky event popped up on the calendar called the Franconia Sufferfest, sponsored by the Franconia Inn and Littleton Bike & Fitness. It started at the Franconia Inn and finished at the summit of Cannon Mountain. I had always wanted to bike up Cannon, now I had a perfect excuse to do it. Little did I know, the state-owned ski area did not allow bikes (or even hiking for that matter) on the ski slopes, except for this special event. The tram would have to be taken back down.
The race was open to runners and mountain bikers. I wasn't sure who would be faster. On pavement, runners reach parity with road cyclists at about 17% grade. On gravel with mountain bikes, parity is reached at a much less steep grade, around 10-12%. This is due to much heavier bikes with much higher rolling losses. The route up Cannon Mtn was about 21% average grade on very suspect surface. Clearly, runners would have a huge advantage here. If we started with a bike, we had to finish with a bike. So whether a biker would finish ahead of a runner or not depended on how much the rider could gain in the first four miles of the course which gained only 1000ft or so. Total course gained more than 3000 feet in 6 miles.
Sunday's weather was ideal for the event. Cloudless and perfect temps. Riders queued up along the grassy airstrip across the street from the Franconia Inn. Runners would go off in second wave a minute or two back. There were only 20-25 riders crazy enough to attempt this. There were at least twice as many runners. There was no shortage of talent on hand though.
We go off, heading down the grassy airstrip. It was a typical MTB race start, holeshot sprint to the singletrack. The deal was, I didn't think there'd be any singletrack. So I settled back. Pace was still very high, not something sustainable for more than an hour. We cut into the woods, and immediately the trail necks down to muddy singletrack with skinny plank bridges. Ah, that's why the locals bolted so hard. Actually, I was probably the kind of rider that they wanted to put behind them.
I didn't recognize anybody there, so before the race, I asked race director Dave Harkless who I should watch. He pointed out Greg Jancaitis, a Cannondale rider, and a couple local guys in Dutch Treat jerseys, Justin Kline being one of them. Before long, there were only five of us pushing an aggressive pace on slick trails in a dense hemlock forest. The pace waned a bit, I moved up to fourth place, then third. The grade was very steep, and I was deeply anaerobic. I thought these kids were going to kill me out here. At some point, somebody had to relent just a little. They did. Not sure who was up front, either Greg or Justin, but I pounced on the opportunity and came to the front to ensure pace didn't drop too much. I must have kept the pace up pretty good, as a little while later, it was just Greg, Justin and I with nobody else in sight.
We reached a downhill with a very abrupt, rooty right hand turn. It caught me off-guard and I totally bobbled the turn. Greg and Justin bolted on ahead. I lost many seconds getting going again. We reached another longer, fairly treacherous downhill. Ferns obscured the greasy rocks and roots. I had never ridden here, so I dared not let my speed run out, being the delicate roadie I've become. I hemorrhaged many seconds in a brief time. I pretty much relegated myself to third place at that point. I could match Greg and Justin aerobically, but not technically.
We hit some heinous grades in the woods at one point, like 2.5mph kind of stuff, barely keep the front wheel down. It hurt so bad, as I didn't want to walk. I took a look back to see if anybody was coming up, as at that pace, two minutes back is not much distance. Nobody. But in looking back, I wobbled right off the trail into trees. Idiot. Do you think I could get started again? Noooo! Greg and Justin were gone now.
We finally popped out at the base of the Mittersill ski area. Reviewing the course profile before hand, I knew that there was around a mile of almost "flat" terrain cutting across the Mittersill ski slopes to the Peabody lodge at Cannon. This is where I thought good time would be made up on runners, as surely I'd be able to go 15-20mph here. Not a chance. It was soft, mushy grass. 5mph required about 350W input. It was such a demoralizer, as I knew what was just minutes away.
The turn to go up for real came way too soon. Right up the ski slope fall-line. I saw Greg and Justin walking almost immediately. I hoped this was just a brief spat at the bottom. Soon I learned, this was not to be.
GPS track, start at Franconia Inn on right
We pushed, and pushed, and pushed. My GPS told me the grade at times was over 30%. The trail was loose cantaloupe rocks half the time. It was easier to push the bike in the grass along the eroded ATV track. A third of the way up was a water stop. I think I was able to ride my bike for about 5 seconds there before jumping off again. My 29er doesn't gear nearly as low as my 26" dualie, but no gearing option would make a difference here. I was aerobically max'd out at 2.5mph. Justin had even less hope than riding it as I, as he had a 1x9 drive train.
I did slowly gain on Justin. I did not seem to make any progress on Greg. The gain he made on me in the woods was what he held to the summit. On the open ski slopes, it was easy to see where everybody was. Next rider was many minutes back.
I was wearing almost new carbon sole shoes, and I could tell they were getting trashed. They weren't broken in yet, and the my heels were badly chafing. Half way up, I could tell I was already getting blisters on the back of my heels. My calves were getting destroyed too. This bothered me deeply, as the Mt Washington foot race was less than a week away.
Detail of Cannon Mtn portion of climb
About 75% up Cannon, I caught Justin at about a 0.01mph speed differential. We talked a little, then realized heavy breathing was coming up behind us. It was Richard Morris, the first runner to finish. Guess my suspicions were right. A bike is a big handicap to lug up this mountain, and that was based on assuming the bike could be ridden. Richard passed Justin and I quite decisively. I don't think he passed Greg before the finish, but because he started minutes back, was still faster than Greg. I reached the summit with enough margin on Justin to zip up the jersey before crossing the line. My time was 1:13:14, pretty close to the 1:15 I estimated. I finished 2nd biker and third overall runners and bikers. I was so glad that was over.
The spectacular view and weather helped take some of the sting out of the slog that just happened. This spring I commented that I did the biggest hike-a-bike (HAB) ever in Arizona when I took a "short cut" back to the car to retrieve Dave. Well, that was NOTHING compared to this 2000ft HAB. In fact, Cannon was a bigger HAB than my three previous biggest HABs combined! No more than 2% of the ski mountain was rideable. Lower gear, fatter, softer tires, maybe would net 5% rideability. But it won't make you faster than a good runner.
I was not disappointed in doing the event. The course was very well marked and marshaled at tricky spots. The event was well organized, and there was good food afterwards at the Franconia Inn. I guess I was disappointed in thinking I could actually ride up Cannon. Silly me. I've skied it many times, so I know how steep it is. I may go back next year, minus a bike. I think I can run it faster than I biked it. I'd run it just for the morbid curiosity of experiment alone.
This event forced me to put another 2000ft of vertical credits in the bank. With Pack Monadnock a week earlier, I've climbed about 3500ft more than descended. This entitles me to one free 3500ft shuttle ride at some point in the future.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Pack Monadnock 10 Miler
This year has been about venturing into new territory for me. Back in January, I did my first winter triathlon, a run-bike-ski event. Multiple running events are planned for this summer. In fact, I may end up competing in just as many non-cycling events as cycling events in 2012, if ski training races are included. Podium finishes are hard to come by in running and skiing events, but that is not why I participate in them. Skate skiing is just plain fun, a lot like mountain biking actually, and running continues to grow on me.
The most interesting event on the calender this weekend was the Pack Monadnock 10 Miler foot race. It is two weeks before the Mt Washington road race, so I thought it would be perfect training. It doesn't hurt that it is close by, either. Pack is part of the New England Mountain Circuit, a USATF sanctioned series that I believe is in its 17 year. Serious runners participate in these events. So what's a guy like me who runs 2-3hrs per week doing here? Anything that goes up must be good, right? The Pack 10 Miler didn't go quite like I expected.
We really lucked out with the weather. Saturday night called for 90% chance of rain Sunday morning. When I got up Sunday morning, forecast changed to 10% and partly sunny. Cool temps, too. I picked up my bib number with a chip for timing. DaveP, not even 24hrs back from Italy and jet-lagged, made it out too for day-of entry. He lives about two miles from the start line.
The course starts in the town of Wilton, NH and finishes at the summit of Pack Monadnock 10 miles away. There are two lengthy gravel road sections. Half of the 2000+ feet of climbing is gained in less than two miles at the end. Portions of the Pack toll road hit 20% grade. I've biked and run Pack many times, but never at the end of a 10 mile foot race. In fact, I've have never run 10 miles in my life. So not only was I going to run my longest distance ever, I was probably going to run it at my hardest intensity ever. A dangerous combination.
In the profile above, I count at least 14 grade reversals, places where the grade goes negative. I don't do well going down hill. I really didn't know how this would factor into the race. Runners that finished near me on Mt Ascutney last year also did Pack Monadnock last year. Assuming I would finish near their time on Pack, or even better since I'm running much more now, I thought I had an outside chance of approaching 1:10 for a finishing time, which is not far from a top-10 overall. Well, it turns out you can't extrapolate from a 12% pure climbing race to one that is more like flat 12k plus a climb at the end. Ascutney and Pack have about as much in common as a hillclimb and an individual time-trial on a bike. Some runners are just built for speed on the flats, while others excel on the steeps. More on this as the story unfolds.
Dave and I did a very minimal warmup, basically walking down to the start line with a few hundred meters of light running thrown in. In the first mile, there's a persistent 200ft climb. I had no idea how to pace on this, other than I expected the race go a lot like the Mt Washington bicycle hillclimb, so I needed to pace my breathing about the same as that. I lined up third row with at least 10 runners in each row.
The horn goes and 200+ runners take off. I'm sure the fast guys went out at sub-6min pace. Just crazy. Humbling was the fact that at least 30 runners charged ahead of me at a completely ridiculous speed for me. So much for a "top-10" finish. I even started to doubt I'd make the bottom end of the range I thought I'd finish in, 1:20.
As we got into the meat of the initial steep 200ft rise, a few runners drifted back. Most runners rapidly pulled away from me. This is not easy! I was pretty sure I was going out way to hard for a 70-80 minute effort. We crested the initial rise, only to give a chunk of it back. I got schooled on the downhill, with many in front of me doubling the time gap in no time and others flying by me. So this is how guys that do Ascutney in 35 minutes do so well here. They can run really fast on flats and downhills. That initial blip down pounded my body. I felt like I was barely in control and flailing. Kind of like ski racing at Weston on icy boiler plate.
The terrain rolled some more, gaining almost no vertical in miles two and three. There were two runners I kept trading places with. They'd drop me on the flats or descents, I'd catch them back on the steeper uphill pitches.
At mile marker four, two other guys decisively caught and passed me. The two guys I was running with until that point latched on. Hmmm, there's no drafting at 9mph. I wondered if this works just like a bicycle hillclimb. If the two slower guys hung with the two faster guys long enough, they'd blow up, then maybe I'd catch them back. While I pondered this, the four got smaller, and smaller as the gap to them grew.
At mile six, a whole pack of runners, guys and gals, passed me at a pretty good speed differential. I knew I was slowing down. I ran the first four miles at a 6:30 pace, way too fast considering the terrain and how long the race was going to take me. Now I was paying for it. This was going to be a bloodbath.
At mile 6.5, the course starts becoming more like a hillclimb race. The flats and downhills pretty much disappear after that. We dropped down onto dirt Old Revolutionary Rd and start climbing earnestly. To my amazement, all the of the runners that had passed me in the last couple miles starting getting bigger again. Some of them were at least two minutes up. The two guys I traded places with during the first few miles did get spit out by the two faster guys. I quickly reeled one of them in. Then others. We popped out on Rt 101. There's a half-mile section with passing lane, which means steep. I now started picking off runners in the pack that passed me at the six mile mark. The interesting thing was, my perceived effort wasn't any harder, yet I was reeling them in faster than they blew by me on the non-climbing part. How cool is that?
We turned into Miller State Park. This is where the horror begins, 12% average grade for 1.3 miles, with sections over 20%. My left calf was doing some weird stuff. I could tell something was getting pulled or torn in there. I was just starting to feel better about the race when I feared I might have to drop out. We climbed only 1200ft to that point. So not sure what was up with the calf. The weekend before I did Kearsarge, which is 1400ft in one shot. I cautiously kept going. I still had two more runners that passed me in miles 4-6 to reel back.
And reel them in I did, as soon as the grade kicked up. One reverted to speed walking on the steepest part. The difference between flat and uphill capability in runners is far more striking than in cyclists. Why would somebody that passed me so decisively on flatter terrain be so much slower on steep terrain? I really feel hamstring strain when running uphill. I believe I heavily use my hamstrings on the bike, so I may be much more conditioned for uphill running than a full-time runner that doesn't train extensively on uphills.
Anyway, I dropped the last of those that passed me mid-race. My placing was now pretty much where it was a minute into the race. There was a big gap to the next guy, but it was narrowing. One thing was certain. Running up Pack after running nine miles is way harder than just showing up and running repeats! But I did 100% run it. No walking. I believed my calf was going to make it, but not without some consequences later.
I reached the final, sustained 20% section and knew the race would be over in less than two minutes. My wife would be up there with the camera somewhere, but my brain was too whacked out by that point to see her taking photos. I crossed the line in 1:14:58, right in the middle of the range I thought I'd finish in. I was not disappointed. It was a solid effort, except for maybe going out a little too hard.
Dave came through a few minutes later, which is quite impressive, given he climbed something like 40,000-50,000ft this week in Italy and was jet lagged. Sitting for three minutes was probably a bad move. I could barely walk when I got up! Calves, hamstrings and glutes in both legs were completely knotted up. Not cramping, just totally wrecked and tight. At first I doubted I could walk back down to the car at the base. I've never experienced that kind of muscle pain after a hillclimb race. Once on Ascutney came close, but this was really bad. It only got worse by the time I got home.
No point in over-analyzing these results for Mt Washington in two weeks. One runner I talked to after today's race, Jeff, said Mt Washington is nothing like the Pack 10 Miler. Mt W is a very steady grade, which I know well, and I should do comparatively better there. Still hoping for a 1:20 finish on Mt W, which surprisingly is only slightly more time for more than twice as much vertical!
The most interesting event on the calender this weekend was the Pack Monadnock 10 Miler foot race. It is two weeks before the Mt Washington road race, so I thought it would be perfect training. It doesn't hurt that it is close by, either. Pack is part of the New England Mountain Circuit, a USATF sanctioned series that I believe is in its 17 year. Serious runners participate in these events. So what's a guy like me who runs 2-3hrs per week doing here? Anything that goes up must be good, right? The Pack 10 Miler didn't go quite like I expected.
We really lucked out with the weather. Saturday night called for 90% chance of rain Sunday morning. When I got up Sunday morning, forecast changed to 10% and partly sunny. Cool temps, too. I picked up my bib number with a chip for timing. DaveP, not even 24hrs back from Italy and jet-lagged, made it out too for day-of entry. He lives about two miles from the start line.
The course starts in the town of Wilton, NH and finishes at the summit of Pack Monadnock 10 miles away. There are two lengthy gravel road sections. Half of the 2000+ feet of climbing is gained in less than two miles at the end. Portions of the Pack toll road hit 20% grade. I've biked and run Pack many times, but never at the end of a 10 mile foot race. In fact, I've have never run 10 miles in my life. So not only was I going to run my longest distance ever, I was probably going to run it at my hardest intensity ever. A dangerous combination.
Profile recorded by Garmin 500
In the profile above, I count at least 14 grade reversals, places where the grade goes negative. I don't do well going down hill. I really didn't know how this would factor into the race. Runners that finished near me on Mt Ascutney last year also did Pack Monadnock last year. Assuming I would finish near their time on Pack, or even better since I'm running much more now, I thought I had an outside chance of approaching 1:10 for a finishing time, which is not far from a top-10 overall. Well, it turns out you can't extrapolate from a 12% pure climbing race to one that is more like flat 12k plus a climb at the end. Ascutney and Pack have about as much in common as a hillclimb and an individual time-trial on a bike. Some runners are just built for speed on the flats, while others excel on the steeps. More on this as the story unfolds.
Dave and I did a very minimal warmup, basically walking down to the start line with a few hundred meters of light running thrown in. In the first mile, there's a persistent 200ft climb. I had no idea how to pace on this, other than I expected the race go a lot like the Mt Washington bicycle hillclimb, so I needed to pace my breathing about the same as that. I lined up third row with at least 10 runners in each row.
The horn goes and 200+ runners take off. I'm sure the fast guys went out at sub-6min pace. Just crazy. Humbling was the fact that at least 30 runners charged ahead of me at a completely ridiculous speed for me. So much for a "top-10" finish. I even started to doubt I'd make the bottom end of the range I thought I'd finish in, 1:20.
As we got into the meat of the initial steep 200ft rise, a few runners drifted back. Most runners rapidly pulled away from me. This is not easy! I was pretty sure I was going out way to hard for a 70-80 minute effort. We crested the initial rise, only to give a chunk of it back. I got schooled on the downhill, with many in front of me doubling the time gap in no time and others flying by me. So this is how guys that do Ascutney in 35 minutes do so well here. They can run really fast on flats and downhills. That initial blip down pounded my body. I felt like I was barely in control and flailing. Kind of like ski racing at Weston on icy boiler plate.
The terrain rolled some more, gaining almost no vertical in miles two and three. There were two runners I kept trading places with. They'd drop me on the flats or descents, I'd catch them back on the steeper uphill pitches.
At mile marker four, two other guys decisively caught and passed me. The two guys I was running with until that point latched on. Hmmm, there's no drafting at 9mph. I wondered if this works just like a bicycle hillclimb. If the two slower guys hung with the two faster guys long enough, they'd blow up, then maybe I'd catch them back. While I pondered this, the four got smaller, and smaller as the gap to them grew.
At mile six, a whole pack of runners, guys and gals, passed me at a pretty good speed differential. I knew I was slowing down. I ran the first four miles at a 6:30 pace, way too fast considering the terrain and how long the race was going to take me. Now I was paying for it. This was going to be a bloodbath.
At mile 6.5, the course starts becoming more like a hillclimb race. The flats and downhills pretty much disappear after that. We dropped down onto dirt Old Revolutionary Rd and start climbing earnestly. To my amazement, all the of the runners that had passed me in the last couple miles starting getting bigger again. Some of them were at least two minutes up. The two guys I traded places with during the first few miles did get spit out by the two faster guys. I quickly reeled one of them in. Then others. We popped out on Rt 101. There's a half-mile section with passing lane, which means steep. I now started picking off runners in the pack that passed me at the six mile mark. The interesting thing was, my perceived effort wasn't any harder, yet I was reeling them in faster than they blew by me on the non-climbing part. How cool is that?
We turned into Miller State Park. This is where the horror begins, 12% average grade for 1.3 miles, with sections over 20%. My left calf was doing some weird stuff. I could tell something was getting pulled or torn in there. I was just starting to feel better about the race when I feared I might have to drop out. We climbed only 1200ft to that point. So not sure what was up with the calf. The weekend before I did Kearsarge, which is 1400ft in one shot. I cautiously kept going. I still had two more runners that passed me in miles 4-6 to reel back.
And reel them in I did, as soon as the grade kicked up. One reverted to speed walking on the steepest part. The difference between flat and uphill capability in runners is far more striking than in cyclists. Why would somebody that passed me so decisively on flatter terrain be so much slower on steep terrain? I really feel hamstring strain when running uphill. I believe I heavily use my hamstrings on the bike, so I may be much more conditioned for uphill running than a full-time runner that doesn't train extensively on uphills.
Anyway, I dropped the last of those that passed me mid-race. My placing was now pretty much where it was a minute into the race. There was a big gap to the next guy, but it was narrowing. One thing was certain. Running up Pack after running nine miles is way harder than just showing up and running repeats! But I did 100% run it. No walking. I believed my calf was going to make it, but not without some consequences later.
Hill Junkie in pain, oblivious to surroundings
Dave noticed the camera woman
I reached the final, sustained 20% section and knew the race would be over in less than two minutes. My wife would be up there with the camera somewhere, but my brain was too whacked out by that point to see her taking photos. I crossed the line in 1:14:58, right in the middle of the range I thought I'd finish in. I was not disappointed. It was a solid effort, except for maybe going out a little too hard.
Two months from 50. Age group podium next year.
Dave came through a few minutes later, which is quite impressive, given he climbed something like 40,000-50,000ft this week in Italy and was jet lagged. Sitting for three minutes was probably a bad move. I could barely walk when I got up! Calves, hamstrings and glutes in both legs were completely knotted up. Not cramping, just totally wrecked and tight. At first I doubted I could walk back down to the car at the base. I've never experienced that kind of muscle pain after a hillclimb race. Once on Ascutney came close, but this was really bad. It only got worse by the time I got home.
No point in over-analyzing these results for Mt Washington in two weeks. One runner I talked to after today's race, Jeff, said Mt Washington is nothing like the Pack 10 Miler. Mt W is a very steady grade, which I know well, and I should do comparatively better there. Still hoping for a 1:20 finish on Mt W, which surprisingly is only slightly more time for more than twice as much vertical!
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Google Ghost Planes
A few of you, if you poke around in Google Maps or Google Earth enough, may have stumbled across ghost planes, or sometimes called rainbow planes. These are captured by satellite imagery, where the satellite is scanning the earth just as a plane passes underneath. There are many speculations on what causes the neat effect, all quite technical, but none appear to be from authoritative sources who've actually designed the satellite cameras.
There happens to be one of these ghost planes on a mountain I visit frequently, Pack Monadnock. I've known about it for some time, but never really looked into it until just now. Here's is a close-up of the plane. It may be a DC9, hard to tell. Satellites in low earth orbit whiz by at thousands of miles per hour, while jets cruise hundreds of miles per hour. The camera likely builds the image one color at a time and compensates for it's speed relative to the surface of the Earth, but not a plane traveling fast relative to the Earth. Thus the colors become mis-aligned.
Here's a view in Google Earth of where the plane falls above Pack Monadnock. Look near the summit. This link will bring you to it in Google Maps.
Sunday I plan to race up Pack Monadnock on foot. It is a 10 mile race and net gains about 2000ft with a little more total climbing. I've yet to run 10 miles, so this ought to be interesting. At least the weather is expected to be cool, if not wet.
There happens to be one of these ghost planes on a mountain I visit frequently, Pack Monadnock. I've known about it for some time, but never really looked into it until just now. Here's is a close-up of the plane. It may be a DC9, hard to tell. Satellites in low earth orbit whiz by at thousands of miles per hour, while jets cruise hundreds of miles per hour. The camera likely builds the image one color at a time and compensates for it's speed relative to the surface of the Earth, but not a plane traveling fast relative to the Earth. Thus the colors become mis-aligned.
Here's a view in Google Earth of where the plane falls above Pack Monadnock. Look near the summit. This link will bring you to it in Google Maps.
Sunday I plan to race up Pack Monadnock on foot. It is a 10 mile race and net gains about 2000ft with a little more total climbing. I've yet to run 10 miles, so this ought to be interesting. At least the weather is expected to be cool, if not wet.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
The Green Mountain Trails at Pittsfield
Last year, JB raced on a trail network in Pittsfield, VT. Jonny spoke highly of the trails, which are on private land and open to the public. I made a note to get over there soon to sample this marvel. Trail opportunities in Vermont are expanding, however most of the Green Mountain National Forest is still off limits to mountain biking. Singletrack that crests an open mountain summit? I was all over that!
Then along came Huricane Irene. It pretty much shut much of Vermont down, including routes 107 and 100 I would take to reach Pittsfield. I never made it there last year, but hadn't forgetten about this destination. Learn more about the Green Mountain Trails here.
After a solid day in the White Mountains on Saturday, I sought a little off-road solitude would be nice on Sunday. I keep mental (and even written) lists of places I need to hit sometime. Pittsfield percolated to the top of the list Sunday morning while weighing opportunities.
En route, I was astounded by the level of destruction to area roads. Reconstruction still continues. Farm fields are being reclaimed, roads and bridges being rebuilt. Not as apparent, I'm sure, are the personal losses people living along these rivers must have experienced. Signs along Rt 107 warned of bicycle race on Monday. This would have to be the Killington Stage Race. They were racing on THAT? Rt 107 was total crap patchwork of asphalt.
The trail head was easy enough to find. I quickly finished kitting up and spun off towards the mountain. The bridge over the Tweed River was not what I expected. Had the water been deep, it would have totally weirded me out walking across it. Video from last summer's race showed a nice bridge existed here before Irene.
I was impressed with the workmanship of the trail network. Construction was world class, machine benchcut. Soil there is a shaly clay mix, which packs up superbly for berms. And berms there were. Probably over 100 in the network. I lack the cojones to rail berms several feet high, but fun nonetheless. I passed a group of eight riders on my way up to the summit.
The summit view did not disappoint. There was a nice shack up there where it looks like people occasionally spend the night. I had the summit to myself. Perfect solitude. It took nearly an hour to get up there in the round about way I went. There were three primary ways down, and I new I would just have to sample each one.
First time down I hit Luvin' It. I gathered it is the way most people go up, as it has the most switchbacks, easiest grade, and few berms. I climbed back up on the Warman trail. It is noted on the map as recommended downhill route. I could see why. Many giant berms, most 3-5ft tall, with several kickers along the way. I would definitely have to come down that before I left for the day. I had the summit to myself when I got up there again.
Second time down I took Fusters. It too was recommended for downhill travel. The upper portion was uber steep, near fall-line stuff. Then the wide-open trees going by in a blur section followed. This went for 3-4 miles. Couldn't help but grin the whole time. It doesn't go all the way back down to the Tweed River, but most of the way. I climbed back up on Luvin It. This time a couple other guys were hanging out at the summit on this fine day.
Last time down I took the Warman trail. Or so I thought. There was a trail from the top not on map I had with me. Sign at top said experts only. Yeah, whatever, all the trails here were buff. I later learned what I took was a trail called Labyrinth. It bore some resemblance to Sidewinder at NEK, but with nasty attitude. I failed to carry enough momentum around one of the switchbacks and tumbled a good ways into briars. How I missed all the pointy, jagged rocks is beyond me. Mrs Hill Junkie never likes hearing about these mishaps. I'm still picking thorns out of my hands and arms. Labyrinth pops out on Warman. Then I was good to go. What a blast bombing all the way back down to the river. I read that one of the routes down has 51 switchbacks in it. Crazy, eh?
Already feeling pretty beat up from the ride the day before, I called it good when I got to the river. That was a hard earned 21 miles with a ton of climbing. I had planned to do a little additional riding in the Green Mountains while there (legal stuff), but thought maybe a run up Mt Kearsarge on my way back would be better with my Mt Washington race coming up in just three weeks. I left very satisfied, well worth the long drive there.
Then along came Huricane Irene. It pretty much shut much of Vermont down, including routes 107 and 100 I would take to reach Pittsfield. I never made it there last year, but hadn't forgetten about this destination. Learn more about the Green Mountain Trails here.
After a solid day in the White Mountains on Saturday, I sought a little off-road solitude would be nice on Sunday. I keep mental (and even written) lists of places I need to hit sometime. Pittsfield percolated to the top of the list Sunday morning while weighing opportunities.
En route, I was astounded by the level of destruction to area roads. Reconstruction still continues. Farm fields are being reclaimed, roads and bridges being rebuilt. Not as apparent, I'm sure, are the personal losses people living along these rivers must have experienced. Signs along Rt 107 warned of bicycle race on Monday. This would have to be the Killington Stage Race. They were racing on THAT? Rt 107 was total crap patchwork of asphalt.
The trail head was easy enough to find. I quickly finished kitting up and spun off towards the mountain. The bridge over the Tweed River was not what I expected. Had the water been deep, it would have totally weirded me out walking across it. Video from last summer's race showed a nice bridge existed here before Irene.
Bridge over the Tweed
I was impressed with the workmanship of the trail network. Construction was world class, machine benchcut. Soil there is a shaly clay mix, which packs up superbly for berms. And berms there were. Probably over 100 in the network. I lack the cojones to rail berms several feet high, but fun nonetheless. I passed a group of eight riders on my way up to the summit.
Typical benching
The summit view did not disappoint. There was a nice shack up there where it looks like people occasionally spend the night. I had the summit to myself. Perfect solitude. It took nearly an hour to get up there in the round about way I went. There were three primary ways down, and I new I would just have to sample each one.
View from Summit
First time down I hit Luvin' It. I gathered it is the way most people go up, as it has the most switchbacks, easiest grade, and few berms. I climbed back up on the Warman trail. It is noted on the map as recommended downhill route. I could see why. Many giant berms, most 3-5ft tall, with several kickers along the way. I would definitely have to come down that before I left for the day. I had the summit to myself when I got up there again.
Second time down I took Fusters. It too was recommended for downhill travel. The upper portion was uber steep, near fall-line stuff. Then the wide-open trees going by in a blur section followed. This went for 3-4 miles. Couldn't help but grin the whole time. It doesn't go all the way back down to the Tweed River, but most of the way. I climbed back up on Luvin It. This time a couple other guys were hanging out at the summit on this fine day.
A stream crossing on Fusters. Photo from last year before
Irene showed this to be much less treacherous.
Last time down I took the Warman trail. Or so I thought. There was a trail from the top not on map I had with me. Sign at top said experts only. Yeah, whatever, all the trails here were buff. I later learned what I took was a trail called Labyrinth. It bore some resemblance to Sidewinder at NEK, but with nasty attitude. I failed to carry enough momentum around one of the switchbacks and tumbled a good ways into briars. How I missed all the pointy, jagged rocks is beyond me. Mrs Hill Junkie never likes hearing about these mishaps. I'm still picking thorns out of my hands and arms. Labyrinth pops out on Warman. Then I was good to go. What a blast bombing all the way back down to the river. I read that one of the routes down has 51 switchbacks in it. Crazy, eh?
Berms on Warman
Already feeling pretty beat up from the ride the day before, I called it good when I got to the river. That was a hard earned 21 miles with a ton of climbing. I had planned to do a little additional riding in the Green Mountains while there (legal stuff), but thought maybe a run up Mt Kearsarge on my way back would be better with my Mt Washington race coming up in just three weeks. I left very satisfied, well worth the long drive there.
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