This year’s Ultra Race of Champions (UROC) 100k ended in
disappointment and my first ultramarathon DNF.
I knew when I signed up for the race that I would be facing some unique
challenges, in particular, my first race at altitude (and serious altitude at that). I did what I could to limit the detrimental
effects of this aspect of the race, but it simply wasn’t enough in the
end. The top six finishers in the race
(and I think many of the top runners who followed) all live and train at
altitude. (While fifth placer Ryan
Ghelfi calls Ashland, Oregon home, he lived high for a month prior to the
race.) And the two runners who really
tore it up, Rob Krar and Dakota Jones, have spent a lot of time in the
mountains, including in snowy conditions.
There
were a few other factors that led to a poor race and my decision to DNF, but I
would say that altitude was the biggest factor.
I spent two weeks training in Colorado in August, slept in an altitude
tent back home in Indiana, and even came out to altitude for 10 days prior to
the UROC race. However, in retrospect, I
don’t think the training trips or the training itself was high enough. I spent the vast majority of my time at only
5,000’ – 6,000’. There were a few
training runs with time spent at 11,000’ – 13,000’, but these were few, and for
the most part, not particularly hard efforts.
I think what I needed was to live at 10,000’ or higher for 4-6 weeks,
with daily training runs in the 10,000’ – 14,000’ range. When I hit the 3,000+ foot climb out of
Frisco on Saturday, to the pass between Peaks 5 and 6, I was in new
territory. I had never pushed hard at
altitudes that high, and my body had a very difficult time dealing with it.
The
race started well enough. After a full
day of snow on Friday, Saturday dawned crisp and clear. In the chilly morning air, I climbed out of
Breckenridge near the front of the field.
I matched pace with Cameron Clayton, Rickey Gates, and Ryan Ghelfi to
the top of the initial 1,500 foot climb.
I felt at ease and in control. We
gently rolled down Dwight Trail to the lodge on Peak 7 and the first aid
station. I found myself out in front of
this group, gently running solo down the Peaks Trail to Frisco and the 13.6
mile aid station. I was getting in
plenty of calories (~250/hour) and electrolytes, and I was happy to see Sage
Canaday less than a minute in front of me through the streets of Frisco. I was running smoothly and within a minute or
two of the lead. I changed packs in town
and readied myself for the upcoming climb.
Early
on the climb, I felt good enough. I was
taking it easy, power hiking plenty in an effort to keep my breathing and hear
rate under control. Gradually, Cam
passed me, and then Ryan. However, as I
neared 11,000’ things started to deteriorate.
We were in a fair bit of snow by this point, and the effort I having to put forth at this altitude really started wear on me.
I was becoming a bit light headed and having trouble eating or drinking
much of anything. Rickey passed me
shortly before we moved above treeline, where we encountered knee-deep snow for
several miles.
I knew I was in trouble, but
try as I might to keep things under control, I couldn’t seem to do so. As I crested the saddle between Peaks 5 and
6, I was met by a very strong westerly wind.
It was under 20º F up top, and with the strong winds, I was very cold
and still couldn’t eat much of anything.
I had also been unable to access my electrolyte pills due to freezing
hands. Lightheaded, I caught my toe on a
snow-covered rock and took my only fall of the day, hitting the ground rolling
and banging/cutting my ankle open on another rock. I was so cold that I didn’t really stop to
assess the damage, as I was still able to run, so I just kept moving.
Once I was finally below
treeline, things improved. The trails
were icy and required constant vigilance to avoid falling, but I was warm and
finally able to eat a bit of food and get some electrolytes down. Gravity aided my pace down to Copper in ninth
place, but once down the mountain, it was clear that the ordeal of the past
hour or more had taken a significant toll.
I was very tired and had a hard time running on mere 4-5% grades. I came into the Copper aid station and took a
bit of time to get some food and liquids down.
I hit the short climb up the side
of Copper Mountain then drifted down to the bike path, where 12 miles of
pavement running began. In theory, this
should have been my forte. I thought I
had a great race plan of staying conservative from the Start to Copper and then
opening it up on the bike path. This plan sounds great, but despite a deliberate effort to stay under
control, the climb out of Frisco had sapped everything I had. Instead of running 6:30 miles on the bike
path, as I hoped would be possible, I was having a hard time running
9:30s. I was utterly spent and unable to
get things going.
Thoughts of a DNF had started
to come into my head, but I wanted to give it some time to make sure things
wouldn’t come around for me. When I got
to the 33-mile aid station at Vail Pass (35+ miles on my watch—I, along with
many others, had the course as 3-4 miles long), it was decision time. There was no crew access until mile 52 in
Minturn, so if I was going to drop, here was the place to do it.
My basic reasoning was that if
I were to slog it out to the finish, I would likely be running another 6 to 7
hours simply for the sake of finishing.
If I had no other obligations or commitments, I likely would have gutted
it out. However, I’m racing the USA 50
Mile Road Championships on October 20, a mere three weeks after UROC. A long slog to the finish in all likelihood
would harm my race there. My conclusion
was essentially: why ruin two races instead of one. By dropping, I will be able to recover much
more quickly. Not being run down at the
50 Mile Champs was the biggest consideration, but this also means I will be
able to get some more quality training in as well.
I’m not one to take a DNF
lightly, but I think they have their place.
This was the first time I’ve dropped out of an ultramarathon (in nine
starts). If this had been my first time at the 100k distance, I likely would have
finished as the distance itself would still be uncharted ground, a challenge
worthy of pursuing. But having already run
100k in the past, simply completing this distance didn’t hold great appeal to
me. And when combined with the USA 50
Mile Championships consideration, I came out in favor of a DNF. I spent 10 minutes or so at Vail Pass
deliberating with my crew before ultimately dropping. I was OK with the decision at the time, and
I’m OK with it now, several days later.
I’ve run about a dozen
marathons, and I’ve dropped from two of them. I’ve been fine with those decisions as well. Once, I was worried about a nagging metatarsal
pain turning into a stress fracture, and another time, I was thinking of
another marathon I was running two weeks later.
Both of those races were going poorly, and when combined with other
considerations, on balance, I thought a DNF was the best decision. Other times, when races have gone poorly but
there was no other reason to DNF, I have opted to finish. I’ve jogged in at The North Face 50 Mile
Championships with blown quads twice now.
I’ve also run a handful of marathons in the 2:35 – 2:50 range, having
fallen apart from racing too aggressively.
While UROC ended in
disappointment, I learned some things from it, and I’ll do what I can to use
the experience to improve. First, now I
know how it feels to race at high altitudes, and I know that my attempts to
altitude train were inadequate. I’ll try
not to race this high again unless I have the ability to live and train at
similar elevations for at least a month prior.
Sometimes a truly bad race can be a better motivator as well. Mediocre to good results usually don’t provide
much impetus to change things. You
think, ‘I’m racing fairly well, I can keep doing things the way I have
been.’ But a bad race forces you to take
a harder look at what you’re doing in training, to evaluate your
shortcomings. And it lights a fire to get
out and fix those things.
In my case right now, I would
say there are two main things I need to work on. First is my climbing. Second, I need to continue to push my
training mileage up. Regarding the
former, it’s unlikely I’ll ever be a great climber without having regular
access to a mountain. However, I now
have very hilly terrain in Indiana to work with, so I just need to make sure
that hill reps remain a focus. I also
can improve my climbing by losing a bit of weight. I have probably five pounds I could stand to
lose, which would make a big difference when climbing. Along with a bit more diligence in my diet,
the second goal—increased mileage—should help with that. The mileage portion of the equation has been a yearlong struggle. The first half of the year, I was coming back
from injury and just trying to get to feeling halfway decent in training. I was also racing a lot, which makes it
difficult to run high mileage. This
summer, I got some good weeks in, but the heat sabotaged things a bit, and then by having to manage sore knees for the last month.
But I’m feeling good and healthy now.
Getting my mileage back up in the 100+ range on a weekly basis won’t
feel easy at first, but it’s necessary, and I need to do it for my continued
long term development and improvement both in the marathon and
ultramarathons. That’s what I’ve got on
my mind going forward. While I failed to
compete well at UROC, I’ve hopefully gleaned the good from the experience. Onward and upward.
A few photos from the race, by Joe Grant, Matt Trappe, and SkiPix.
A few photos from the race, by Joe Grant, Matt Trappe, and SkiPix.
