Lake Sonoma 50

On the course, loving the hills! (Gary Wang Photo)

Great weekend at Lake Sonoma!  No race report per say, but had some thoughts rattling around in my head that i wanted to get down for posterity.  In short, i was really pleased with how the race unfolded, and in particular, how i felt in my third 50 miler race.  Unlike my first two 50 mile races (North Face 50mi San Francisco in 2011 and 2012), i felt much more in control of the variables that go into a successful performance.  I knew cracking the top 10 with this competitive field was going to be really tough, and I managed to finish in 8th place in 6h:42m.

Some other thoughts:

Competition: I was really proud to be able to compete with such a talented group of athletes near the front end of the field (4th through 8th place was separated by only a few minutes at the end).  For the first time in a 50 miler, I really felt the thrill of competition… not just trying to finish.  This is what makes racing exciting for me, and it was awesome to finally feel feel it in an ultra.  I felt a tremendous sense of both pride and humility as I finished this race;  proud of my performance and yet humbled by the course, the distance, and the awesome runners who finished ahead of me.  Stoked to see my good pal Dave Mackey crush it for 5th place (1st Master and father of two!).

Finishing:  One of the main things i would love to go back and improve upon is my finish.  I felt like a champ through 38 miles and got as high as 5th place after passing Dave and Chris Vargo. But then I hit a rough patch where i couldn’t seem to stay ahead of my calories/electrolytes, and both guys passed me soon after.  I managed to recover, but not in time to rally back.  In retrospect I should have crammed more calories in, and dug a little deeper mentally to push through and hang with those guys during the rough patch.

Taper:  The complexities of the pre-race taper continue to elude me, but i tried something completely different this time around that seemed to work.  I got a debilitating stomach flu only 2 weeks out from the race that caused me to not be able to run for nearly a full week.  At that point, i decided i would either withdrawal from the race, or spend the next week running normal volume to get my strength and confidence back up.  I chose the latter.  It took a few days to get my strength back, but by Thursday/Friday I felt a spring in my step again, despite having just run 50 miles in the previous 5 days.  I showed up to the start line feeling relaxed, confident, and strong.  The reverse taper worked!

Long run: Basically, I used my training for Way Too Cool as a springboard for this race.  As such, 50km was my longest run, and most of them were quite a bit shorter (generally 20-25 miles).  Occasionally i did back to back 18-20 milers.  Curious what others do for their long runs leading up to a 50 miler?

The Course: The course was beautiful!  Way more enjoyable than expected, with incredible views of the lake throughout, high quality single track, stream crossings and rolling meadows.  You know it’s a good course if you don’t mind coming back the same way.

Previewing the course during an Injinji photo shoot

Fueling: I managed to stay ahead of my calorie balance for most of the race, averaging 2 gels per hour for the first 4 hours and increasing to 3 gels per hour for the last 2.5 hours (by necessity).  I also slammed Coke at every aid station in the second half and took 3 salt tabs in total. Hydration was the main concern out there on such a warm day.  I ran out of water before nearly every aid station, and had to fill up at creek crossings a number of times.  Probably should have spent more time in each aid station getting fluids down before topping up.

Gear: Brooks PureGrit from San Francisco Running Co and Injinji Performance 2.0 socks fit the bill on this course.  With all the creek crossings and choppy up/down course, good footwear was key.  No issues with blisters or any discomfort with this combo.  Also love the new Patagonia Strider Pro shorts – so awesome for ultras.

Injinji photo shoot (photo by Dave Mackey)

Support: Having the support of my wife (and my 13 month daughter, even if unknowingly), not just during the race, but during the training that leads up to it, makes balancing running, family and work possible, and fun!

Strava: The dessert to every race is uploading to Strava and seeing how the numbers played out as the race unfolded.

Congratulations and thanks to all the competitors, crew and organizers that made this such a great event!

• Race results
• iRunFar article

Way Too Cool 50k

Finishing Way Too Cool 50km

Thought 1: Sometimes getting to the starting line is the hardest part.

It’s cliche, but it’s so true. Focus and motivation have never been the problem for me, it’s controlling all the other variables in life that proves challenging when trying to be the fittest you possibly can on a specific day. Historically, injuries are the variable that i’ve struggle with the most leading up to a race. I’ve had my share of stress fractures, hamstring tears, glute strains, groin pulls, etc that have sidelined me in the last three weeks before a race.

Thankfully, in my “old” age, i’ve gotten better at detecting early warnings signs, taking necessary precautions, and just generally training smarter. But in my preparation for this year’s Way Too Cool 50km, I got thrown two curveballs in the 2-3 weeks before the race that had me wondering if I would make it to the start: Two straight weeks of stressful work deadlines, combined with two – count ‘em – two nasty colds in a 3 week period. The second, which hit 8 days before Cool, was a real doozy. I ended up going on antiobiotics (for only the 2nd time in my life) 3 days before the race, and that thankfully got me over the hump enough to make the ‘go’ decision the night before.

I had wanted to run Way Too Cool for years but something would always come up that prevented me from, well, making it to the starting line (usually injuries…).

But there i was at the starting line on a beautiful sunny morning, a little worse for the wear, but there nonetheless… getting to the start was the hardest part, right?

Thought 2: I’d rather race my best against the best than win a race with no competition.

This year had Max King, Chris Vargo, Leor Pantilat and last year’s winner, Gary Gellin on the start line, so the challenge was certainly not over. Not surprisingly, the first three took it out hard and we hit the first 8 mi aid station in 6 minute pace. I decided to forgo my naturally tendency to be conservative, and hammered with them for those first 8 mi (“the end is going to hurt no matter what”, i told myself). After that, i let them go (not that i really had a choice in the matter), and settled into what would be a solo time trial to the finish, pushing my pace as much as possible. I felt on the edge the whole race, which in and of itself was an interesting thing to experiment with in an ultra.  I struggled with GI issues a bit (i’ll spare you the details) but fueled right, never bonked, and held on for a solid 4th place (3:25:59 or 6:53/mi pace), under the previous year’s course record. I finished 4 minutes behind Leor, but a whopping 17 minutes behind Max King, who, as it turns out, was not hammering at the beginning, but simply running the same 6 minute pace he would continue the whole race! Incredible new course record for him.

So yeah, sometimes getting to the finish line is pretty tough too.

I feel fortunate to finally take part in it this classic spring event; it lived up to its stature as one of the best 50k’s in the country. Also thankful for the support of San Francisco Running Company, Injinji socks, and above all, for Kristin and Autumn!

Check out the Strava details here.

My buddy Brett, and owner of San Francisco Running Company, crushed his 50km PR, finishing a solid 8th!

Autumn and Kristin post race (Autumn’s dance moves not shown).

A year with Strava

Another fantastic year of running in the books, full of new friends, new trails, and most importantly, the arrival of Autumn Burrell, my beautiful 10 month daughter and occasional jogging buddy.  If there is one thing i’ve learned about being a father, it’s that it brings the most important things of life into focus.  For both Kristin and I, running is one of those things, and we’ve both enjoyed one of our most pleasurable years of running yet.

2012 was also my first full year using Strava, the GPS tracking cum social fitness network. Strava scratches a lot of itches for me as an athlete, from the tangible to the intangible.   For the analytic nerd in me, It provides a framework for tracking performance over the duration of a training cycle and monitoring progress on key training runs/workouts (example).  And for the competitor in me, it injects an extra bit of motivation into a hard effort, with the knowledge that I am competing against both my own previous best times, and also everyone else on Strava who has ever run the trail.  In short, there is a life to the run beyond the pain of the workout.  For those of us that don’t train in a club or a group, that sort of virtual competition, even if it’s only with ourselves, is incredibly valuable (if used selectively).

Using Strava for a full year also means that I have a whole slew of data to reflect back on at year’s end.  I’ll share a summary of these numbers below, not because i think they are so impressive, but to serve as a  benchmark to measure future years.    Many elite runners run nearly twice the volume that i do, but this is what works for me to maintain balance in my life.

So here’s my 2012 year in running by the numbers, with goals identified in parentheses (aimed primarily at being injured less)…Hopefully 2013 will be just as fun.

260 total runs

325 hours of running (2013 goal: 365)

2,260 total miles run (2013 goal: 3000)

337,000 total vertical ft  (2013 goal: 500,000)

1300 average vertical ft per run

49 consecutive days off due to Achilles tendonitis (2013 goal: 0)

11 races, 6 wins

187 miles raced

29  Mt Tam summits (2013 goal: 50)

Another Look at Ultras – TNF50 Round 2

A weary runner (Brett Rivers /San Francisco Running Co)

Here’s the irony of ultra running: When you are on an easy run, you have time to think about a lot of things. But when you are racing an ultra, you have a lot of time, but somehow can only manage to think about one thing: how uncomfortable it is. Or maybe it’s just me.

I ran my second 50 mile race on Saturday, the North Face 50 Mile Endurance Challenge. I ran the same race last year as my first serious ultra, and let’s just say things didn’t really go as planned. So i was determined to learn from the experience, and come back to do it right this year.

I focused more on the long runs in the months leading up to the event, and got to the point where clicking off hilly 25 milers on the weekend was relatively casual. I built recovery weeks into my training cycle, ensuring that i would not show up to this late season race burned out (like last year). And i got my nutrition dialed… namely by discovering that the best way to survive an ultra without bonking and getting sick is to drink the most un-nutritious beverage on the planet: Coke. Lots of Coke (Sorry Mrs Obama).

And all that stuff worked fantastic on race day. I showed up well rested, didn’t bonk, and ran like a champ… for 25 miles. I chatted quite a bit with Rickey during the early miles, agreeing that biding our time, running a consistent pace would be key to running a successful (or at least satisfying) race.  I was feeling confident about this plan.  Although i realized that the pace I was running for the first 25 miles (7:30 min/mi) would win the race most years, it felt comfortable and sustainable.  But the last half of the race felt almost as tough as i remembered it from the year before: numb, battered legs that simply refuse to go any faster down the stretch.

And who can blame them?

Strava course profile

47 miles, 9000+ feet of climbing, darkness, rain, and mud.  Ultras are hard.  Really hard.  You have to be willing and able to run uncomfortably for a long time, which is as mentally taxing as it is physically.  How the leaders manage to run sub 7 min/mile pace over that course is beyond my comprehension, but i suspect it is has much do to mental conditioning as physical training.  I suddenly feel like an amateur in a pro sport.

Good gear helps

In the end, i would finish in just under 6.5 hours for 21st place.  Kristin and Autumn, who crewed for me the whole day in the rain, were waiting for me across the finish line.  I could finally enjoy their company.  Autumn gave me a thumbs up.  You know you have a family that loves you when they are willing to embrace you even though you are sweaty, muddy and smell a bit like urine.  I couldn’t talk for the first few minutes, because i just wanted to cry.  Not out of disappointment, and not out of joy, but rather tears of relief, that i had persevered and gotten through it.

At the finish line with Kristin and Autumn (Brett Rivers / San Francisco Running Co)

Although my pace slowed in the end, i ran every step and never lost my composure.  I climbed well.  I fueled well.  I wore the right shoes and socks.  And i never gave up.

But i question if i have the ideal physiology to run ultras as hard as one needs to be competitive   Maybe i’m not robust enough.  My quads don’t look like the tree trunks.  But most of all, i question if i have the desire to train and race such long distances.  Running is more special to me when it is kept in balance with the rest of my life, and i think to be competitive at these ultras you need to train more than i do.

Remember when marathons used to be considered long distance?  Well, they are sounding pretty good to me right now.

Congratulations to everyone who ran their heart out in such a challenging race.  It was inspiring to be a part of it.

-Galen

Links:

iRunFar Article

Full results

Autumn in Michigan

We all experience seasons in one way or another no matter where we live, thanks to our varying position relative to the sun and changing day lengths. Even here in coastal California we have four seasons, subtle as they may appear at times. But there are some places where the seasons are defined with such clarity, that it nearly transcends the place itself.

Michigan is one of those places.  I was lucky enough to spend 16 years of my life growing up there and have been coming back to visit family ever since. While I certainly have strong childhood memories of  the thick blankets of snow after a winter blizzard and the twinkling of fireflies on a humid summer night, it is autumn where Michigan really shows its colors. (and it is in Michigan where Autumn showed hers to the family)

It is an intimate season, with quiet evenings around the fire with family and friends, and solitary runs on country roads. It is a time when sunlight, rich in color, casts long shadows through kitchen windows where the season’s last tomatoes await their culinary fate. And It is a time when the lush canopies of oak, maple, and poplar burst into a grand finale of color before returning to the earth to repeat the cycle.

I also find it refreshing to step outside the cultural/tech/foodie incubator that is the Bay Area — so full of superlatives and innovation and forward thinking — and spend a few days in a place that a little more understated, yet utterly content in the present.

I am thankful for this place called the mitten state, with its distinctive seasons and quiet beauty. And above all, I’m grateful for my family who live there. It will always be a home to me.

Jungfrau Marathon 2012

Wide awake.

I look at my watch: 1:30AM.  I groan, and try to go back to sleep, but my heart starts racing as soon as i remember what i’m about to do.  I finally drift into a state that is neither sleep nor awake, only to repeat the cycle less than an hour later.

Such is the life of a jet lagged long distance runner the night before a race.

On this particular race morning I was the a small Swiss village of Wilderswil awaiting the start of the Jungfrau marathon, which is said to be the most beautiful marathon in the world. While that claim sounds entirely too subjective, I had run this race once before back in 2007 and found myself in complete agreement. Consider the following:

Roaring rivers, 800-ft waterfalls, quaint villages, clinking cowbells, glaciers and mountains are all discovered along the course. And not just any mountains. The race finishes on the steps of three of the most legendary peaks in all of Europe: the Eiger, the Monch, and the Jungfrau. It’s a mountain lovers dream.

Course map

The gun went off at 9am and a colorful stream of runners, 6000+ in total, burst across the starting line (it is now the largest marathon in Switzerland, road or trail). Crowds lined up along the starting chute pounded the barriers, rang cowbells, and cheered, as firecrackers exploded nearby. Ah, racing in Europe, there’s nothing like it.

Unfortunately, there were no such fireworks happening in my legs. In the proceeding days I had felt a tightness settle in to my calves that made them tender even to the touch. Perhaps i did one too many workouts the week before, and the air travel probably didn’t help. Whatever it was I didn’t have the spring in my step that you always hope for on race day. But i didn’t want that to be an excuse not to run my best, so I tried to remain patient, hopeful that the legs would eventually come around and loosen up.

I was here to participate in the World Long Distance Mountain Running Challenge (or Championship, depending on who you ask) with a USA team that included 5 guys and 5 women. We would compete individually for overall placement in the race but with the added context that our three fastest runners would score for team honors. The unique profile of the race (and significant prize money — $56,000 in total) draws an impressive pool of backgrounds and talent. 70 countries in total were represented, including usual suspects such as Switzerland, Austria, Germany, but also speed powerhouses like Kenya and Ethiopia. Reading through the bios of these athletes, it was not uncommon to see marathon PRs in the 2:14-2:20 range, with mountain experience to boot. Mountain racing in Europe is the real deal.

Mens 40+ runners and women raced the day before. Here, going through 10km. (Galen Burrell photo)

After running through the first 10k in 36min (5:47 pace) a lead group of ~20 had already gone off the front and I had no choice but to settle in with an equally sized chase group to continue running what felt to be a sensible pace. Although my breathing felt relaxed, my legs were feeling flat, and it seemed like my calves might cramp up at any time. This is just the warmup, I kept saying to myself.

From 10km to 21km the course is gently uphill (2% grade avg.), and I could see our pace slowing on my Garmin. At that point I went off the front of our chase group to push the pace a bit, because I knew I wanted to go through the first half in 1h:16m or faster.

My goal for this race was to improve upon the time I ran in 2007 (3:11:05), when I finished 5th. To do that, I knew I had to train smarter and more effectively to make up for whatever natural speed I’ve lost (and work/life responsibilities gained) since then. So I studied the course in great detail over the summer and identified each unique segment of the race, noting it’s length and grade (steepness).*

I used this information to match similar sections of trails and roads near my house (with a little help from Strava!) and trained assiduously on them with hill repeats and tempo runs to get my body dialed to those gradients. I love this kind of focused training and i saw considerable improvement along the way.

Going through Lauterbrunnen at the halfway point I was elated by the hundreds of spectators lining the streets cheering and screaming. High fives were exchanged as I floated through the crowd. But it was only temporary relief from the sinking feeling of seeing my time (1h:19m:33s) nearly 4 minutes slower than in 2007. I was way off my targeted pace.  I needed a hill.

USA’s Melody Fairchild at km 26 from the day before. (Galen Burrell)

The start of the climb finally arrived just before km 26 and i was in 25th place, with the chase group not far behind but nobody in sight ahead of me. I told myself “the real race starts now”.

The first few km of the climb are outrageously steep), and although I felt my confidence returning in more familiar terrain, I was gaining little ground on the runners behind me. For the first 8km of the climb it felt like i was running by brute force and will, with little energy to enjoy the incredible event I was participating in. The realization that I wasn’t enjoying myself frustrated me even more than my pace.

A view of Lauterbrunnen valley from the course near Wengen. (Galen Burrell)

At around 33km, the first glimmers of hope started to appear. I could see runners ahead of me for the first time since the first 10km of the race. Despite how poorly I was feeling, I was finally starting to reel people in. After passing the first few stragglers, i felt some adrenalin releasing, and the tension and tightness in my legs start to ease up. I pounded my 4th gel to try and supercharge the sudden wellspring of energy.  Boom!  It worked – before I knew it, I was dancing up the mountain with lightness and joy that I hadn’t felt all day, and was passing people like they were standing still. I was finally running the race I had imagined all along, and it felt spectacular.

Adam Campbell running near the top of the climb back in 2007. (Galen Burrell photo)

I ended up passing 10 people in the last 10km and ran the fastest split among all competitors on the steepest and most spectacular final climb before the finish. Near the top of the climb, I passed a dazed and stumbling Ethiopian, clearly out of his element. Knowing that his 10k PR is likely 5 minutes faster than my own, i sprinted down the last kilometer to the finish with reckless (and fearful) abandon and crossed the line in 3:10:58 for 11th place.

In the end, I felt elated by my strong finish, relieved to run faster (incredibly, by less than 10 seconds!) than in 2007 when I was 5 years younger, and yet puzzled by how poorly I felt early on. Under-trained for the flat stuff maybe? Over-trained in general (i won the Mt Tam Hill Climb six day prior, maybe i wasn’t recovered)? Or maybe I’m turning into an ultra runner and need 30km just to warm up. These are things to ponder as I take a little break from training this month…

As for the team competition: my time, combined with Sage Canaday’s 5th place time and Zac Freudenburg’s 32nd place time, earned Team USA the silver medal, with the local Swiss team taking gold, and Germany staking bronze. Josh Ferenc and Jason Bryant put in gutsy performances for the US as well, finishing 43rd and 63rd respectively, despite some hardships in the second half.
The women put in a great performance the day before, taking home the gold in the team comp.

The gang of four, without Zac. (Melody Fairchild photo)

• Results: Men | Women
• Article: Team USA Races to Silver
• Strava: GPS recording
• Video: YouTube footage from Sage Canaday
• Race report: 2007

—

*The breakdown of the course looks alittle something like this:
10km (flat) + 11km (2% grade) + 5km (flat) + 4km@18% + 8km@7% + 3km@18% + 1.2km downhill = 42.2km with 6000 ft of climbing.

Pikes Peak and Yosemite

Running near the summit of Pikes Peak in 2003

Each year when Pikes Peak race weekend nears, I feel a deep yearning to return. It’s as if all the years of training and racing up that mountain have left something inside me, (or more likely I left something on the mountain), and there is a sense of wanting to reconnect. I discovered myself as a runner on its slopes during the 4 consecutive years that i ran the marathon (9th in 2003, 1st in 2004, 2nd in 2005, 2nd in 2006). During those years, I discovered the patience, focus, and determination necessary to succeed on the mountain, and those qualities have defined my approach to training ever since.

I look forward to returning to my favorite race on my favorite mountain, but this year it was not to be.

So this past weekend I looked for an alternative mountain endeavor to take its place. Coincidentally, 6 month old Autumn was clearly jonesing for an adventure and Kristin’s brother Logan was visiting from mountain-deprived Michigan. So on Saturday morning, Kristin, Autumn, Logan and I packed the car and set off to Yosemite for the weekend.

For me, arriving in Yosemite is like a Catholic arriving at St. Peters Cathedral: An architectural masterpiece presided over by powers higher than your own. It’s at once humbling and empowering. No other place inspires me to explore its reaches more than Yosemite.

Yosemite Valley from the Four Mile Trail to Glacier Point

Once arriving in Yosemite Valley, we immediately set off on foot toward Glacier Point on the Four Mile Trail (it’s actually 4.6 miles to the top). Kristin and Logan hiked up with Autumn in the baby bjorne while I ran. Once the valley rim is achieved 3200′ of climbing later, spectacular views of Half Dome, Nevada/Vernal Falls, and the rest of the Valley are awarded. Tour groups and buses notwithstanding, it is one of the finest viewpoints in the Valley. [see the Strava route]

The Mist Trail. One of the finest short hikes in the world.

On Sunday, we collected our free coffee from the Lodge and ate breakfast while pouring over maps to plan the day’s adventures. Kristin would do a 10-mile loop around the valley’s scenic bike paths with the baby jogger, while Logan would do his own hike up to Mirror Lake. My objective for the day, was to run from Yosemite Valley (4000′ elev) to Tenaya Lake (8200′) via Clouds Rest (10,000′), 18 miles in total with 7000′ of climbing. The route was gloriously scenic, following the Mist Trail past Nevada and Vernal Falls and the John Muir Trail around Half Dome. The views from Clouds Rest, a massive granite formation perched high above the valley, are stunning. [see Strava route]

Yosemite, steeped in climbing lore and tradition, is also an ideal playground for the vertically inclined runner. The view from Clouds Rest.

The run finished at Tenaya Lake, where I took a bus back down to the Valley after a cool dip in the water.

Tenaya Lake. Where rock climbers meet mountain runners meet standup paddle boarders.

It was a wonderful weekend in Yosemite. Only downside was not being able to do the hikes with the fam…

Kristin & Autumn hiking up the Four Mile Trail. Autumn’s first visit to Yosemite!

Marin Ultra Challenge 50km

Inspired by last weekend’s Western States, i decided to undertake an ultra of my own last weekend here in my own backyard of the Marin Headlands.  I love sprinkling these local events into my training calender throughout the running season; they are the kind of races you can get up for an hour before the start, eat a quick breakfast, and pick up your bib 10 minutes before the gun goes off and be guaranteed a beautiful course and as hard of a workout as you desire.  Inside Trail Racing did an excellent job planning and marking a challenging but scenic course through the Marin Headlands and the lower slopes of Mt Tam.  It featured over 6500 ft of climbing over the 32+ miles, but the cool, foggy weather, beautiful scenery, and camaraderie of friends made for a fun day out on the trails.  Check out the wicked course profile on Strava.

It was only my fourth ultra ever and I was pleased to come away with a win while running what felt to be a comfortable and sustainable pace.  It’s a nice little confidence booster as i head into my next block of training.

Finishing the Marin Ultra Challenge 50km

 

And this picture, caught by a secret photographer, pretty much sums up what I am so grateful for this summer. Little autumn’s feet are just barely visible in the middle!

Tanford Tahoe photo

 

Western States

In what is becoming an annual tradition, i headed out to Tahoe on the 3rd weekend of June to watch a few hundred people run 100 miles from Squaw Valley to Auburn, CA.  More specifically, i was there to pace my buddy, Dave Mackey.  Dave has had great success at Western States, including a 2nd place (and course record breaking) finish several years ago behind Scott Jurek, and a top 10 finish last year.  But Dave is a true competitor and I knew he had yet to achieve his best performance on the course.

Glenn Tachiyama photo

I wanted Kristin and Autumn to witness the spectacle of one of the most famous and competitive ultra races in the world, so we rented a little condo in north tahoe for the weekend. We drove up early friday morning in time to run in the Montrail 6km Uphill Challenge, which follows the same first 6km as the Western States course  the next day (2000 ft of climbing).  It was a nice opportunity for all the support crew and pacers to have their shot of competition for the weekend.  Team Mackey got off to a strong start with Rickey Gates and Myself finishing 1-2; we would both pace Dave, in that order, the next day.

Saturday morning started off with a bit of rain and hail, but would turn to cool (by Western States standards) and sunny conditions later in the day; likely the best weather the race has seen in over a decade. I paced Dave from Forresthill to Ruckey Chuckey, a cruisy 18 mile downhill section.  Dave was in good spirits and running strong in 3rd place, behind Timothy Olsen and Ryan Sandes.  Still, pacing is always a bit awkward because the racer and the pacer are in completely difference zones.  On one hand you have the racer, who is totally dialed but most likely, feeling like shit.  And on the other hand you have the pacer who is feeling great and stoked to finally be running after watching other people run all day.  This disparity can cause two friends accustomed to jokes and banter to suddenly have very little to talk about.    Nevertheless, it was a very enjoyable run down to the river, and i was stoked to see Dave running so well.

Dave would end up 4th, while smashing the masters course record in the process.  His wasn’t the only record setting run; the men and women’s overall course records were also demolished, no doubt aided by the ideal weather, but also an indication of the kind of talent that is being attracted by the sport of ultra running.

Rickey taking a Tecate at the mile 99 aid station.

Team Mackey: Rickey, Dave, Me, and Autumn (Kristin not shown)

Back on track

Hard to believe it’s been so long since my last post. At that time in early March, my daughter was barely 2 weeks old, I was just recovering from a 2 month Achilles tendonitis injury, and the Bay Area was just beginning to blossom into spring. Needless to say, much has changed since then.

Summer has arrived (climatically speaking), I’ve bounced back from my injury, and little Autumn is developing in all those special ways that only her family can fully appreciate (so I’ll spare you every last detail).

Having a baby, or going through any major life event, is a valuable opportunity to examine the priorities in one’s life. It’s amazing how the scarcity of free time brings clarity to how you want to spend it. There are some things that I thought I was excited about but have completely slipped off the radar in the last three months. Blogging, for example. Learning a foreign language might also fit into this category, although I remain hopeful this inspiration will return one day. Looking back on the last 3.5 months now that the dust has settled, It is the relationships and activities that prospered during this time that feel very significant. Family and friends (obviously), running, cooking, and travel come to mind. These aspects of my life are more meaningful and joyful now than ever before.

Running is going better than ever after returning from injury. I think i’ve found a nice balance between running as training (which is an aspect of running I have always loved, but has sometimes come at the cost of injury and burnout), and also running as a means of both experiencing joy, and coping with the world around me. A big part of this balance is learning the value of restraint, and I think i’m practicing that with greater success than i have before.

So far I have two races under my belt this spring, both on the roads. I did the Kalamazoo Half Marathon while visiting family back in early May and came away with a nice little unexpected win.

And this morning I met up with friends Nathan, Brett and Peter to run the 92nd Annual Statuto 8km Race in North Beach (aka little Italy). I first ran this race back in 2007 and appreciated it’s “small town race in a big city” atmosphere. Hosted by the Italian Athletic Club of San Francisco, the race is unlike any other. Donuts and coffee are served before the race. Salami and wine are given away as awards. And the trophies are reminiscent of what you might expect from a high school national cross country championship. Huge.

I’ll always remember what the rotund Italian announcer said to me when I collected my trophy back in 2007. “Congratulations. He looks like a runner doesn’t he? Now someone get that boy some food!” Classic.

Well, It seems the mega trophy is a tradition they are fond of, as I took home another one this morning, along with a bottle of Italian red wine. It was a great morning in the city with friends.

Statuto trophy (photo by Brett Rivers)

Looking forward to running my next race on trails, most likely in the Headlands of Marin in the next month, and some bigger mountains later in the summer. Stay tuned…