Race Report: Trail Nut Half Marathon

Mountain Junkies LLC
Trail Nut 10k & Half Marathon
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Bedford, VA

This was the second Mountain Junkies event we had the pleasure of experiencing back in 2010 when I first discovered this amazing series of races. The Mountain Junkies are a husband and wife duo that "want you to have a great time", a tagline that is evident in every aspect of the events they put together. This event, the Trail Nut 10k and Half Marathon, is one of my favorites and so close to home I couldn't pass it up even with that vow I made with myself about racing anything this short before Western States (and then of course there's that ridiculous streak of mine).

I ran the 10k in 2010, it was only my third 10k ever, second on trails and I fell in love with the park that the race introduced me to and even more in love with single track. In 2011, hellbent on finishing the series despite being pregnant, I ran the 10k and announced with my t-shirt that I was expecting a 'future Mountain Junkie'. Last year was my first attempt at the half marathon, for which personal problems led to a pretty down evening and morning before the race start. I started the race hungry and with my mind elsewhere, with legs only a week off of my second ultra, and suffered greatly.

After swearing off shorter races earlier this year when the calf trouble befell me I had to sorrowfully remove the Mountain Junkies RNUTS from my race calendar. However, after last weekend's not so stellar performance at Promise Land I began contemplating the Trail Nut. I thought about just coming out, maybe sweeping the course or being a cheerleader, but I'd seen the race t-shirt and wondered just how I could do at a race for which speed of some sort would be necessary. Todd was encouraging that I run the half, not 'sandbag' and race the 10k, he was also excited about seeing what he could do at the half marathon.

Back and forth on registering, as well as which distance to choose all the way up until we arrived at Falling Creek Park kept the nerves and race jitters down to a very fine low, almost nonexistent. Uncertain how my calf would react I registered for the half marathon, figuring the distance would afford a slighter slower overall pace. With a few minutes to spare before the race briefing I joined Todd for a quick warm-up.

The pace was slow and the calf felt good, I began to think I could pull it off. I figured I would be fifth, trailing Dacia, Courtney, Lauren and Carrie, as long as I could hold it together.

Turns out "holding it together" is a real challenge for me.

I positioned myself at the start line around  Lauren, Courtney, Randy, people I thought I should be able to run with if I ran well. When the race began I tried to go out with them. Through the grass we ran, I was keeping with them but also immediately feeling the pace, you can't keep this, Alexis, back off now. Backing off before we even entered the single track was blow number one. When the calf began to tighten, as should be expected at this point, I tried to push through. When the pain in my calf began to spread to my foot like it did at that fateful 5k back in February I had to reign it in further and lose several more positions. This was blow number two. With the calf now irritated and with a diminishing pace I began to fall victim to the negativity, contemplating a DNF. Just tell Josh your leg can't handle this, you just ran an ultra a week ago, this was foolish at best. Struggling along, the determined side of me spoke up, you can finish this, it may take three hours, but you don't DNF, it's not who you are. 

The next few miles were a tad bit miserable, but I was in this thing. I was slipping just slightly in pace as I fought on, hoping the pain in my calf would ease as it is known to do after a few miles. I just kept trying to reassure myself that it would pass. However, by the time I found myself running on pavement the pain was radiating up the hip, not full out painful, but a threat of some kind. To top it off I've been dealing with a touch of plantar fasciitis in the other foot that decided to share it's frustration with me at this point. The persistent pain, while not severe, was blow number three. I was an absolute mess.

Then, shortly before the bike park, Sarah Taylor passed me looking strong. I followed closely behind as we made our ways up the grassy hill, taking in her beautiful stride, admiring her strength. When we came into the bike park and it was flat with countless people ahead of us running seemingly in circles my first thought was this is just cruel! I could see the runners ahead of me, but then as I ran further into the flat, winding section I began to see the happy, strong faces of runners quickly approaching. I always feel a certain weakness on flats and Saturday was no different. I started to focus on Sarah, how strong she looked.

Suffering in the first miles. Photo courtesy Mountain Junkies.

And finally, that determined side spoke up, louder this time: She IS strong! But you are strong, too. Yes, you feel pain, but aren't you an ultra runner? Isn't overcoming pain part of what it takes for success? Push aside the pain, pick up the pace and run strong. I heard these thoughts and I believed them. And just like that, my race came back together, instantly. I picked up the pace and focused on that strength that I possess but consistently forget to harness.

I still felt pain in my left heel and right hip, but I started to drown them out with this new-found focus on running well. If there was anymore negative self-talk it was only that it shouldn't take me nearly five miles to decide to run on strengths, not deficiencies. The next six miles were run well, I began to settle into a better race, a better day. I was a little disoriented coming through the first loop, unsure whether I should really be crossing the finish line or not. I decided to stop at the aid station to fill up my water bottle, I was worried it would heat up in the second loop, but I probably should have just dropped the empty bottle at what would be the finish line, I didn't end up drinking much of the water and it probably cost me some time.

Going out for the second, shorter loop I felt pretty good, the heel was the only thing still really nagging me and I hoped to drop the pace even more. However, at about eleven miles the fatigue began to set in. I would have to settle for holding the pace, the legs may be capable of holding that pace for a half marathon but they really just aren't trained for it at the moment. When I came upon Blake with less than two miles to go I wondered when he had passed me. He said he'd accidentally cut the course, that he'd already told Gina about it and that he'd see me at the finish as he let me pass by him.

Coming into the final miles a volunteer directing the half marathoners told me I was in third place for females, I had been kind of hoping to chase Courtney down, but there was no one out in front of me that I could see. I had a runner behind me the entire second loop, I kept encouraging him to pass me but he kept assuring me that he was just trying to hold on. The short, but slightly steep final section of trail was not as hard as I recalled last year. I had planned on not pushing the final steps but when I saw I was capable of breaking 1:50 I picked up the pace to secure that feat.

Within moments of passing the finish line I had several people tell me I was third female and several tell me I was fourth. I didn't let the confusion bother me, I was preoccupied with a fair bit of itching. I had sat down in the grass and I don't know if that's what caused the itching but most of my legs and torso itched. Thankfully, Gina saved me with a Benadryl.

Turns out, I was third. One of the females in the race had unintentionally cut the course along with Blake and a few other guys. I felt really bad about this, like I was stealing third. Todd assured me that, while everyone involved felt bad, I was third and shouldn't feel bad about accepting the award.

Courtney Griffin (2nd), Dacia Reed (1st) and Alexis Thomas (3rd)

I urge everyone who hasn't run a Mountain Junkies race to do so, I have started several posts about just how well put together and carried out they are, but I think you just need to go out and participate to really feel what I would try to convey in a post. Conquer the Cove is next month, go sign up! You won't be sorry, but you may be sore!

Once again, post race, I'm floundering, frustrated. I feel lost. I know I can run well but being injury prone and with Western States looming closer everyday I am probably worse than ever before. I told Todd yesterday that I can't wait for July 1st, I'm just ready to see how it all turned out. I keep saying that I don't want to disappoint everyone, but to be honest, I'm most worried that I am going to disappoint myself, fall apart and quit before my time. If I could just locate that strength I know I have, bottle it up and have it ready I know I would be alright but instead I keep misplacing it, and that has me truly running scared.

-Alexis

Deep Hollow Half Marathon: Race Report (Alexis)

Deep Hollow Half
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Lynchburg,  Virginia

Two years.

That’s how long I've been waiting to run Deep Hollow. In 2010 I was battling a bout of iliotibial band syndrome  when I passed over the half marathon for the 5k distance. I remember being beat by nine year old Abby Gonzales and watching the half marathoners finish. Several of them were covered in dirt and blood, I envied their sweat soaked shirts and proud, exhausted expressions crossing the finish line. I am going to run that race I told myself, next year, I’ll be back. I came back in 2011, but not as a participant, but once again as a spectator at the finish line as I was counting down the hours until the arrival of our youngest child. Waiting on the hillside along the finish line I cheered in fellow runners, anxious for my husband to finish. I knew he wanted to finish in less than two hours and was worrying about his whereabouts when he finally came into the camp at 2:20. He was not happy; he’d gotten off course and had run some extra mileage. His pace was right on target, his time was not. Coming into 2012 we both had Deep Hollow high atop our race lists; I was eager to finally get to run the race that had eluded me and Todd was hell bent on finally chasing down that sub-two hour finish.

For the better part of our training year Todd and I have trained on the trails of Candler’s Mountain. Long runs, short runs, slow runs, tempo runs, we've done them all. We know that mountain well. It is this point that made this particular race stressful for me in the last few weeks. When I don’t do well at a road race or an out of town race I can tell myself that I don’t run roads, that I didn’t know the course. However, if I didn’t do well on our mountain, on our turf, how would I recover from the letdown?

In the past six weeks we’ve run sections of the Deep Hollow course countless times and the whole course in what we thought was its entirety on three separate occasions. I ran it the day after the Lynchburg Half Marathon in 2:32 as proof to myself that I didn’t leave enough on the Lynchburg Half Marathon course the day before. Two weeks later we ran it again in 2:35 as a long run. Not pushing the pace, just seeing what we could do running it through. The Saturday before the race we ran the course but not in order, chasing Jason Captain for nine miles, finishing in 2:12. It was with these numbers as well as an in-depth study of past years race results that I chose the arbitrary finishing goal of 2:10.

As the days before the race grew short I started to have anxiety about the race. I don’t throw that word around without a full understanding of what I intend to get across. When I thought about Deep Hollow my legs would become weak beneath me, my heart rate increased and my palms would become sweaty.  Failure wasn't an option and yet the thought ceaselessly weighed on me because I wasn't sure what the boundaries of failure meant for me and Deep Hollow.

I run because I am competitive. My umpteenth attempt at ‘starting to run’ was successful in 2009 because I signed up for the Virginia 4 Miler and got swept up in the spirit of the struggle. I want to race because challenge builds character. I want to push my limits, evaluate my strengths and shortcomings. But I know I’m not Ellie Greenwood and so I have to establish what success and failure mean for me and my abilities and goals. I take the idea of running and racing very seriously, perhaps too seriously. Maybe some days I lose perspective. Sometimes I wonder if I should race at all. And yet I’m also undeniably lazy. I would rather only run four or five days a week; a six day running week is virtually unheard of in my training log. I skip runs with little hesitation.  I hate getting up early to run, I dread running alone. Or in the dark.  I am only half-committed to speed work. My greatest, and sometimes only, motivator is proving myself. I want to believe in myself and I want to win over other’s respect and approval. It all boils down to low self-esteem, a high level of self-doubt, my astrological sign and probably something my parents did or did not do when I was growing up. I should probably see a therapist. Instead, I run.

So back to the week before the race, I was aiming for 2:10. Todd thought I could possibly run sub-2:00. I was not at all convinced in my ability to run a 2:10 and cringed every time I heard him tell someone he thought I would do really well. The half marathon is a wonderful distance, perhaps my favorite to race. The perfect distance really, short enough to run fast, long enough to recover from mistakes and yet you’re done before you ever reach a wall.  I ran portions of the course Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and came to the conclusion that in sections the course is very fast, it’s the last few hills over the last few miles that appear the most defeating. I knew that I had to be careful about fueling and energy conservation because of these last few miles.

Thus I drew up a fueling plan based on my goal time and scribbled it out on a little yellow legal pad. I grabbed four Strawberry-Banana GU from our bulk supply and laid them out with my fading Zensah sleeves and favorite Nike shorts. The morning of the race I tried to eat as much as I could but I had to force myself to eat three thin slices of toast, my stomach was wrapped tight due to nerves. I felt sick, almost as though I had the flu, my muscles seemed weak and I was nauseous. It was partly due to this distraction that I left my water bottle at home, a mishap I didn’t even recognize until we were on the mountain about to warm-up. I knew there were six aid stations along the course, a generous number for the distance, but I also yearned for the comfort a water bottle in hand provides. Todd asked around and secured a bottle for my use from Joe. The search for a spare water bottle did cut our warm-up run short but I didn't fret it, I was far more contented to have a portable hydration source.

With minutes to go to the start I took my first GU, took a final restroom break and made my way to the start line. Familiar faces were a comfort but my stomach was a ball of nerves. We started and I was immediately passed by a group of about ten. I was running faster than my target pace but I knew single track was right up ahead and I knew I would rather not have to pass others on trails. The single track we took however was not what we had run on training runs and it threw me off slightly, had me second-guessing how well I really knew the course. Todd passed me on Lasso, seconds later Jamie Swyers did. I tried not to let this bother me, I had convinced myself (or so I thought) that I was comfortable with a few of the seasoned ultra runners beating me, especially Jamie and Sarah Quigg. I’ve seen their times, I’ve seen them out running, I know they’re both strong runners.  It was still a setback to see Jamie pass by me running so effortlessly. I decided to hang on to her and Todd as best I could from that point.

Then at 1.48 miles a most ridiculous occurrence, I fell between the slats of a bike ramp. I never take the bike ramps in training unless they are the path of least resilience. However, I was chasing the group ahead of me which included Daryl, Jamie, Todd and a few other guys and when some of them took the bike ramp I thought (or rather didn’t think) to follow them. And I run on my toes and my right foot went between two 2x4’s, down to my shin. I was running fast and when my leg went down the action-reaction between shin bone and ramp was quite painful. I was trying to use a small tree by the ramp to pull my leg free and yet I look up to see no one has stopped and they are pulling further ahead of me. I managed to pull free and make it off the ramp and I looked down at the watch, 1.48 miles, that’s where my race probably ends, I told myself (always the optimist). And just like that the negative feelings started pouring in. For a moment I thought my race was lost.

Fortunately, I had a very negative race a few weeks back and I've been working on remaining strong. The struggle and yet resulting success at Douthat was at least a half-boost. Buy my shin hurt. Run until the aid station at Falwell Road, I urged the negative side. I knew that the pain might sub-side; I was more concerned with getting the anger and unconstructive thoughts to go with it. I ran easy up the hill on Lake Hydaway Road, watching as Todd and Jamie pulled further and further away. By the time I crested the hill they were out of sight. I ran hard down Lake Hydaway all the way to Lake Trail. On Lake Trail I could see Jamie at times but I was struggling, I took my second GU and walked a few steps up one of the small hills I have vowed in the past I would never walk again. It was becoming a rough day. I saw a girl behind me on the switchback at the top of Lake Trail, I was running scared. I knew if I didn’t pull it together I was going to spiral out of control.

I made it to the second aid station ahead of my goal for the day, perhaps too far ahead of my goal. I told myself to slow down, find a rhythm and a better pace. I ran the next few miles on Monogram Road and Monorail trying to refocus on my race. I didn’t run the switchbacks on Lower Dam Trail as well as I had during any training runs so I made up with it by running breakneck speed down Downhill Run. I teetered between running fast and feeling good to feeling spent and slow. On Bobsled I started to really contemplate my finishing time, I knew my pace was dropping and I wouldn’t break 2 hours, but I knew I could still easily hit my own goal of 2:10.

And before long I was on Walk in the Park, such a misleading name, it’s a hard section for me, hilly. I had a guy in front of me which was nice; I like to chase, or nevertheless to follow. I got passed going up a hill and decided to take another walk break to a count of 30 on the long hill that skirts Clear Cut Road and take a third GU. I was feeling tired yet was still having bouts of energy where I felt good, I took the downhill sections very fast.

At ten miles I decided I could hit 2:03 if I could run a sub 30 minute 5k. It sounds like a reachable goal but the last three miles of that race are on terrain that can break you down. The hills become more numerous, and even though I ran them in training they cry out walk break when you’re over ten miles in on race day. I had felt a few twitches in my calves up until this point. And even though there was only about two miles left in the race I decided to consume the fourth and final GU of my race plan, only about 20 minutes or so after the third. I drank the last of my water to wash it down. I knew I was getting close to the end; I started to feel some sort of second wind. And yet I took a final walk break when I saw Cheyenne and Debbie at the top of the final hill on the course. They were telling me about Todd, he had been en route to reaching sub 2 when they’d seen him. They looked so happy and full of energy. I wanted to steal their liveliness but I just took a longer walk break instead. When I took to running again I knew I was in the homestretch, so close to the finish I dug deep and picked up the pace. 

I was barreling downhill with a half mile to go when the cramps in my calves came back. Like fireworks rippling through my calf muscles, spasms catching and releasing, over and over. I tried to run faster but I was scared they would get worse, that I would fall on the trail. I prayed that they would cease. My pace slowed, the calf cramps continued, especially painful in my left leg, but I ran it in. I was so angry I wanted to cry; I bit my lip to hold it in. I felt betrayed by my body; I didn't even steal a glance at the clock as I crossed the finish line. I stopped, ready for the cramps to release. But they continued to spasm for several minutes.

Todd told me my time, 2:03:20. He gave me a little bit of a hard time for not being faster. I felt conquered by the course, by my weaknesses, the contractions in my calves. I have now had a string of poor finishes (in my opinion) due to cramping, three half marathons and a trail marathon this summer have all ended with cramping in the final miles. I have been trying to narrow down the culprit because it is humiliating to have it keep happening. At the 40 Miler I purposefully did not run the last mile in hard because I didn't care about the few seconds lost not doing so and was terrified that I would cramp up.

Having suffered from leg cramps during pregnancy in the past these cramps are different. They start with slight twinges in the calves and propel to tighter, rhythmic spasms the harder I push.  I never cramped until earlier this year with my first race fueling with GU or similar products. Am I taking too many GU? Or not enough? Do I need to consume more electrolytes? Am I not drinking enough water? Or am I just running beyond my ability? I have been looking for answers and to have it happen in the final steps of Deep Hollow was quite disheartening.

Immediately, despite the knowledge that I had finished third overall female, I felt like I had let people down. It took me half the day to realize I had let myself down with my perceived ideas of what others expect of me. I ran hard on a tough course. I grumbled about the calf cramps and the twenty or thirty seconds they may or may not have really cost me, I whined about my shin (which is still bruised and tender) but I can’t call Saturday’s run a failure. I reached my goals, what more did I want or need exactly? Will I never be content? Will I always be chasing a slightly faster time?

Sunday I awoke to sore legs, it was the first sign that I’d run plenty fast at Saturday’s race. My calves were tight, tender and sore. They carried that soreness that accompanies calf cramps the morning after they hit in the middle of the night, when you've all but forgotten about them. I begrudgingly took the day for rest following the advice that rest and recovery are part of training. I had hoped to hit 30 mile weekends between now and Masochist but I questioned the benefit on running long on tired legs and a downtrodden ego.

Today, after a few days further reflection on the race, I feel slightly better. I still have a lingering soreness in the legs but I've mostly returned to my ways. I skipped Sunday’s long run and cut yesterday’s run short, we can call that laziness. I spent hours worrying about Deep Hollow before and after, and now it’s on to hours spent worrying about Masochist but we aren't going to call that obsessive. No, I’d rather we call that passionate.

-Alexis

Looking much happier than I felt following Deep Hollow.

Deep Hollow Half Marathon 2012

Yesterday was the Deep Hollow Half Marathon at Liberty/Candler's Mountain. It is a brutal half course if I do say so myself but Todd and I both managed to hit our goals...for the most part anyways. I am working on a more in depth race report but here are the numbers:

Todd: 1:58:00

16th Overall

2nd in 30-39 age

Alexis: 2:03:20

22nd Overall

3rd Female Overall