Trashing the Trends

I have never liked trendy things. In middle school I wore silk shirts and jeans because it is what all other other kids wore. Keep in mind, just a few years before this I was sporting Starter jackets, Hypercolor shirts, and Zubaz pants. And now a days, it seems as though Uggs and North Face are the official sponsor of college females across the country. Every facet of life has accumulated its own trendy characteristics, and thus twenty years after middle school, within my own hobby of running, I am still fighting the trends.

Why do I hate trends? Well, first of all it seems like every day some doctor, or other professional is telling you about some research that profoundly changes the way you should live. Diets and exercise come to mind first. In the last 15 years we have all heard ad nauseam the various kinds of diets we should have, what we should eat, and what we shouldn't eat. The Atkins diet, low carb, paleo, vegan, South Beach, using fat for fuel, gluten free, wheat free, on and on, and on. It gets so convoluted, restrictive, and confusing, it's no wonder people jump from one fad diet to another. And although a lot of these diets are based in science, much of them contradict one another to the point of utter frustration.

The same goes for running gear and running techniques. Do I use pose method, chi running, to heel strike, or to land forefoot? Ugh. In 2009 a book about barefoot running comes out, bashes Nike's bulky shoes, and presto, you have a instant trend towards minimalist footwear. And again, minimalist footwear, like the diets, has some benefits proven by scientific testing (albeit potentially biased). The following years saw the shoe market explode with minimalist everything, and people flocked to the stores to buy them. Folks, it's all a marketing gimmick to make people money. For a few years, the shoe companies had everyone picturing themselves frolicking in the mountains like Tony Krupicka in a tiny little pair of six ounce shoes. The ensuing years, however, were followed by a lot of overuse injuries acquired by runners who were too overzealous in ramping up their high mileage running in shoes their bodies were not used to.

Enter Karl Meltzer and Hoka One One. Funny, just a few years ago people dreamed about scampering over rocks with nimble proprioception in their Vibram Five Fingers. Now, runners who have been dealing with years of aches and pains all of sudden find themselves floating along in the new "clown shoes". Recovery times have never been quicker, and the "time to fly" is now all the time. Now having a fully cushioned ride is all the rage, and people can't seem to get enough of the puffy stuff. So how exactly, in less than two years, did the minimalist movement lose ground to the current maximalist movement? Marketing strategy. Nothing more and nothing less. This doesn't mean minimalist and maximalist don't have scientifically proven benefits, but neither is the end all be all of shoes. People tend to dive 100% into the new fads, dump their money into unproven products and theories, which they will probably change in a year anyway.

(photo courtesy of Ultraspire)

Shoes and gear will not compensate for your genetics, or make you heal faster. Kids in Africa run barefoot all the same, but that does not mean you can. Most of us sit behind desks, go to work in dress shoes, and at best run on a regular basis. Buying a new pair of shoes will never compensate for a lifetime's worth of a style of life unless you can truly commit to years, and decades of going barefoot. On the other hand, bulky shoes like Hokas feel amazing, especially if you are someone who has had chronic injuries and are tired of feeling like running beats you up too much. However, your ideal stride is designed for the natural dimensions of your body. Adding another inch of cushion means you are very unnaturally altering your stride impact points, regardless of the heal to toe drop on your shoes. I believe this inhibition of the natural stride will cause hip, lower back, and other injuries. The fact that people practice little sense of moderation with new shoes will exaggerate this effect. Moderation does not mean easing into a pair of shoes in a few weeks, or even months, but possibly in terms of years. However, nobody is patient enough to want to comprehend that.

Other things I have learned:

1) Compression gear is a placebo. Wearing tighter clothes with specific pressure points has never been proven to promote better performance. The idea of enhanced circulation and oxygenation to the muscles doesn't add up. I could do a whole separate post about compression gear, which I do own (along with yes Hokas and everything else mentioned), but it will be for another day.

2) All bodies are not created equal. We all "know" this, but fail to practice it. What works for others may not work for you. The quicker you can be okay with that, the less money you will waste on things that will never benefit your body type.

3) Gear will not make you faster. Running faster will make you run faster. If you weigh 250 lbs and think dropping from a 9 ounce shoe to an 8 ounce shoe will make you faster, you might want to reconsider where your weight really needs to come off.

4) Gear will not increase your endurance. Running farther and at a higher intensity, as well as sound in-race nutrition is what will increase your endurance. Trust the training, not the product.

5) You will race the way you train. If you never run harder in training, it certainly won't happen on race day. If all you do is long slow trail runs, all you will be able to do is long slow trail runs.

6) Well planned use of gear and logistics can help cut time during longer events. Sometimes a good strategy can make up for speed. Just don't rely on it all the time.

7) Elite athletes don't need the gear they are sponsored by to be fast. Remember, they were fast first, sponsored second. It's never the other way around.

8) You don't need a long run every week. Runners can tend to be super OCD about training schedules and mileage. A solid long run every other week trumps a so-so, maybe fatigued and forced, long run every week. If you are tired 3 miles into a planned 20 miler, cutting it short is smarter than pushing to a crappy 4-5 hour slog. Despite what others may think, a long slog may actually hurt your training and set you back.

9) There IS such a thing as bad miles. A few good days of rest can do more for your training than a bunch of tired runs. We need to kick the idea that active always equals good and sedentary always equals bad.

10) More miles is not always better. Some of the best distance runners only run 50-70 miles per week (less than 3k per year), even when training for 100's. A well devised 60 mile week can provide better training than 100 mile weeks of constant slow stuff, and with a lesser chance of overuse injury. We read about elites and their sexy 150-200+ mile training weeks, and think surely bigger is better. Nope.

11) HAVE FUN! Running is our hobby, our privilege, our passion, but not our job. 99.99% of our elite runners have other jobs. A 15 minute 5k runner, a 2:20 marathoner, or even a sponsored ultra runner is not going to make much money off running. Lighten up and enjoy it!

Paved to Waves: Maysville to Macon 50 Miler

(Courtesy of M2M website. Race director Brad Mitchell on the M2M course)

One of my biggest desires in upcoming years is to run new unique and challenging events. I've never had a desire to be a 10 time, 20 time, 30+ time finisher of any event. With so many great concepts popping up in the running and ultrarunning world, I believe life is too short to do the same races over and over again.

That very idea is what got me to the starting line of the Maysville to Macon 50 miler. Initially, I saw that there was a brand new 50.3 mile race in North Carolina, it was reasonably close, inexpensive, and I would probably get to catch up with some of my runner friends. But, as I learned about the details of the race, that's when my interest really piqued. The event had a 12:01am start, just like the Hellgate 100k, and it would be run on 23 miles of roads (route 58) before turning and running up 27 miles of sandy beachfront (Emerald Isle). So much for the idea of a nice easy 50 miler....

On to the race!

After nearly a 5 hour drive through traffic, I finally arrived in Atlantic Beach, NC. When I got there, we still had an hour long shuttle ride to the cozy little town of Maysville, NC. I was pleasantly surprised how the town went out of their way to make us feel welcome. The mayor, the police commissioner (Dan Ryan, the man behind the idea of M2M), and a local mascot all came out to our starting point, a small diner in the middle of town. It occurred to me that this was my first 50 miler in about a year and a half, and only my second in the past three years. 50 miles is a fun distance because you can definitely blow up if you go out too fast, but you also don't want to go out too slow either.

12:01am. After the Pledge of Allegiance the race finally began. The 23 miles of roads were basically broken up into several segments. I ran the first couple of miles up front, but sure enough two other guys caught up and eventually passed me. The first 10 miles to the aid station went through dark county roads, but seamlessly passed by in an hour an twenty minutes. The eight minute pace was a bit faster than the 8:30's I had planned, so I backed off a bit more. By the way, we had a police escort that stopped oncoming traffic the first ten miles which was pretty awesome!

13 miles. I caught up with one of the guys who had passed me earlier, and he ran behind me for a mile, or so. His bright headlamp directly behind me was causing some awkward shadows so I picked up the pace just to get a little bit ahead. A few miles later I glanced back to see how he was doing, and didn't see a soul in sight.

ERROR number 1 (+0.5 miles, 5 minutes): At around 17 miles I realized I hadn't seen any signs for route 58, which is the road we were supposed to be on. Apparently, by running on the left side of the road, I naturally followed where it went and completely missed a fork in the road where I was supposed to bear right. It wasn't a huge mistake, but I added a half mile, and five minutes trying to find my way back.

About twenty five minutes later I crossed the only "hill" on the course, which was a pretty bridge going over into Emerald Isle. Though short, the uphill and downhill of the bridge was a nice change of pace for the muscle groups. From there we made a right turn and ran for three miles until we reached the oceanfront.

3 hours and 14 minutes. The 23.3 miles of road were done, and I can honestly say I was glad to be switching over to running on the sand. As soon as I passed through into the beach area I was welcomed with a massive oceanfront of white that stretched beyond the view of my headlamp. The area was so wide and open that it was a bit disorienting to figure out where you were supposed to be going. Since I knew to go left, I just followed that until the shoreline narrowed down to a more defined strip of sand with the ocean to my right. From this point to the finish the pace of running, aside from fatigue and weather, would be dictated by the type of sand we were on. It would either be very loose granular sand that you would sink ankle deep into, or wet packed sand that was ALWAYS off camber closer to the water.

The first "marathon" of the run went by in 3:43 as I arrived at the aid station overseen by RacENC mastermind Brandon Wilson and his son Andy. This was mile 25.8 on the course, but actually my mile 26.3. Subsequently, the lead runner already had a 12 minute gap on me, but I viewed the next 24 miles as either an opportunity to close the gap, or let it grow. The next six miles to aid station 3 were by far my sloppiest. I struggled to find good footing as the tide was a bit higher and shrunk down the running path options to mostly the deeper sand. My slow pace during this stretch was mostly due to the soft sand and spending too much time zig zagging from hard packed sand to the flatter stuff when the hard packed got too slanted to run on.

31.8 miles. I arrived in 4:50, which is a decent time (31 mile split of 4:42), but it looks faster than is was due to all the road running at the beginning. The slowest part of the course was still to come, and there were still 18.5 more grueling miles of sand to cover. From here, the next two aid stations were both 7.5 miles apart. I figured a 10 minute mile pace, which was much tougher than expected to maintain on sand, would get me through each segment in 1:15, and give me a good shot at breaking 8 hours. The passing of time through the night and early morning wasn't as bad as I expected. The dark beach was certainly quiet, but I had some good tunes playing on my headphones, and I just settled into a rhythm. Every mile or so I would take a moment to jog backwards and take the strain of my left side. Running on a constant angle can cause major muscle imbalance problems, so I figured to take some time to relieve the physical monotony.

6:30am. Almost 42 miles covered and the ambient light from the sunrise meant I could ditch the headlamp. However, a chilly rain was already beginning to fall, and made the 38 degree morning all that much cooler.

Entering Fort Macon: I entered the Fort Macon beach access at 7 hours and 30 minutes, and had a little over three miles to the finish. I knew if I pushed it, I could break the 8 hour barrier, which would have been a great accomplishment on this tough course. However, the last few miles of the course were not how I pictured, and I found myself rather uncertain as to where to go. I followed my gut and found both of the hole punches we needed to prove we ran around the outer most portion of the fort beachfront. As I made my way into the fort area, that's when I got confused.

ERROR number 2 (+1.8 miles, 18 minutes): When I arrived at Fort Macon, I had only seen one sign that said "this way", which was located in a parking lot. I assumed it was pointing me to run down the only paved road in the fort area. And so I did. After almost a mile I saw nothing and realized I was running AWAY from the fort. It didn't seem right, so I stopped, asked a few passing cars if they knew where the finish was, but they were all employees and didn't know. I then ran back up the road to see if I had missed any signs, and when I was almost back to the beach area, a volunteer told me to turn back the way I had JUST run. I was literally a quarter mile from the finish when I had turned around. (f-bombs everywhere)

Needless to say, I was pretty pissed off at myself for adding 1.8 miles and 18 minutes at the very the end of a 50 mile run. Had I just trusted my gut, as wrong as it felt, and run another 0.1 miles I would have seen the turn sign into the finish area.

Finish Line: 8 hours and 21 minutes. My anger over the added miles subsided quickly after finishing. The third place runner came in three minutes after me, which was way too close for comfort, given that I was 20+ minutes ahead of him at mile 49. The winner, elite Iron Man Rob Hilton, finished his first ultra in a blistering time of 7:36. Rob is a 2:30's marathoner with an Iron Man PR under 9:20 (beastly), which explains how he just floated by me with such ease. Anyway, given the added 2.3 miles over the entire course, and 23 minutes of lost time, I am certain I would have been under 8 hours. Why so much fuss about breaking 8 hours, you ask? Well, breaking 8 hours was my goal from the start, and although just a number, I really wanted to know that I could achieve a goal I set forth to conquer. The good news is, the added distance did not cost me the win, nor second place. In the end, sometimes you just have to laugh it off, and realize that 8:21 over 52.6 tough miles is still a solid day. Other than that, I essentially ran every step of the race, aside from a few moments where I walked a few seconds to eat something, which means my endurance has finally bounced back.

Final Thoughts: Thanks to race director Brad Mitchell and all the volunteers for putting on this event. Running in the rain, when temps are in the high 30's was cold enough, so I know standing out there all night and all morning to volunteer was even colder. It was certainly a unique and tough challenge. A 12:01am start, 23 miles of dark roads, followed by basically a 27 mile ultra on sand was definitely something I had never considered doing before this weekend. Congrats to all the other runners who endured hours and hours of freezing rain and wind, including my buddy Dave who gritted it out despite some muscle issues. Those conditions were just miserable, but the runners did what they do best, and that is endure. What an awesome day (or night) with a fun group of the toughest SOB's I know.

Thanks!

Mike Bailey

A Year In Review

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(Mt. Sneffels Highline trail in Telluride, CO)

With only eight days left in 2013, I find myself 60 miles shy of completing 3,200 miles for the year. This would top the 3,100 miles I completed in 2010 as the most I have ever done in one year. Based on how 2013 began, I would have never guessed it would have gone in the direction it did. Instead of dwelling on the many subpar performances that seemingly overshadowed the first half of the year, I decided look back with fondness at the many positives that occurred on the last loop around our sun.

Completing 3,200 miles is like running across the widest part of the United States, and represents a 61.6 mile per week average (68.6 mpw from March on). I don't think I would ever have succeeded in reaching such a total if I had made it a goal at the beginning of the year. Putting in that kind of mileage requires good health, a good schedule, and a lot of mental and physical consistency that we sometimes can't really wrap our heads around. With so many uncertainties in the beginning of the year, I really chose to tackle each week individually and made running a day to day concept. I think, however, in the future my focus will remain where it has been the past four months, and that is on more quality and less quantity for the sake of hitting numeric totals.

Aside from the numerous miles traveled, I also had a wonderful adventure in Colorado. It was a fantastic experience and I met many great new friends while at the same time exploring some of the most beautiful places in the country. The highlights included running in Telluride, seeing the San Juan mountains, a handful of trips to Leadville, Aspen, Maroon Bells, hiking Longs Peak, and nine other 14'ers. I also enjoyed volunteering and giving back to community after catastrophic flooding hit the front range in mid September. Like my trips to Hawaii in 2007, I know I will look back at the summer and fall in Colorado as being one of the best ever.

2013 will also go down as the year I paced several friends to very inspiring finishes. This is a trend I would like to continue as a way to give back to the people and friends who have helped me make it to many a finish line. I will look back at pacing Kyle Fricke for a short stretch between miles 80-90 en route to setting his 100 personal best time of 19:08 at the Graveyard 100. Then, there was pacing Ryan Nebel during a hot and humid Old Dominion 100, where he broke 23 hours just a couple weeks after completing the grueling Massanutten 100. Finally, the year ended with pacing my friend Helen MacDermott to her second Hellgate 100k finish in some of the worst weather conditions the race has ever had. In a sport where we can sometimes focus too much on ourselves, it really is rewarding to help others dig deep and find their potential.

Here's to the next 365 days!

Healthy Running

September of 2012 through June 2013 was, by far, the longest stretch of my "running life" where I had not been 100% healthy. It was always something, whether it be a car accident, my back, or other odd freak injury. I still had goal races to run, but without the ability to run healthy for them, the outcomes suffered. This ultimately led to months, or over a year in this case, of running that has been nothing short of a train wreck.

It was only a few years ago that it seemed like I could show up to a local trail race and be somewhat competitive. Then, in the blink of an eye, the talent around me got better, and my running started to take a downturn. For the first time since I began ultras in 2004, I was finishing races near the back of the pack, and those were the ones I didn't DNF due to injury. I ran the Holiday Lake 50k in February and finished over two hours behind the winner and over thirteen hours behind the winner at MMT. Talk about one big slice of humble pie after another.

So, when I moved to Colorado and flopped at Leadville again, I decided it was time get healthy and to absolutely stop doing these 100 milers that were making me hate running. It was tough at first, but I cut way back from the 100+ mile training weeks that got me nowhere in the spring. In fact, though high volume mileage would appear to be excellent for long distance training, it really just made me grumpy and tired. Oh, and it proved to do zippo for actual race performance as well. For the past four months I have been running much less and enjoying it far more. It also helped that I gave my body and brain a nice long rest from ultras, and that all my running was driven from a desire to see awesome places and just run for the freedom in it. I think that running is back to being healthy and playful past time for me, which is the very reason I got into it. Knock on wood, I have been running injury free for a while now, have seen my fitness improve a bit, and am starting to feel like my old self again.

Part of me would like to start "racing" again, but the other part of me wonders how quickly I'll end up right back to the crummy place where 2012 and 2013 left off. It's a bit of a dilemma to still have races I would like to do, but I also enjoy having good fast trail run without the notion popping into my head that it is prepping me for some future event. But,for the time being, I kind of like being off the radar, and Lost In the Woods :-)

Lazarus Man- Mohican 100

"The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly....if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” -Teddy Roosevelt

Opening Scene. Fire tower aid station. Mile 86.

"We can call our medic, and he can give you a ride back." "Yeah, I'm done. I can't even move my knee." "Ok then. Just relax, keep that ice on it, and we will drive you back soon. 86 miles is still an incredible effort. Fire tower to finish. We have another drop."

"Who's that that all wrapped up laying there?". "Oh, that's Mike, he's been here for three hours". "Is he ok?". "No, he's had some serious stomach issues for the past 4-5 hours and it's only gotten worse". "Good news, our medic just arrived to pick up the two drops. You should wake Mike up so he can get a ride back with them". "Mike, mike! If you want, you can get a ride back now".

My response "No way! I am finishing this thing"


Eight hours earlier at the Hickory Ridge aid sation. Mile 71.

15 hours into the race a volunteer yells, "Mike, you have really been moving up all day!". Indeed my strategy was working incredibly well. I ran the first 26.8 mile loop in a fairly relaxed 5 hours flat. The second loop was an even more relaxed 5:45 in order to save myself for a strong push later. I was going to keep the effort level comfortable in the heat and humidity, and wait until the cool of the late afternoon to start an aggressive push towards the front.

For the past 5 hours, I had been picking my past runners. Top 30 through 26.8 miles. Top 25 through 41 miles. Top 20 through 50 miles. Top 15 through 58 miles.

As I passed yet another runner around mile 67. My position climbed one more time.....9th overall. I was running with a fire and fury I don't think I had ever run with before. I knew even if I faded a little on the last loop, I would finish in about 22:30. I was now inside the top 10 at the third largest 100 mile race in the country. Out of nearly 300 starters, I was in the top 10, and closing in on my goal to run a 22 hour race. I was focused, and executing to perfection the race I had planned out.

......But, I had noticed my stomach starting to fall apart. No, not now! Not after all this hard work to finally crack the top 10. Everything was going too well to let my stomach eff it all up. Just like Massanutten, it looked like my race was going to unravel after mile 70. I tried fighting back as hard as I knew how. I knew my body well, and over the next few hours I used every trick in the bag to attempt to settle my stomach. Ginger, ginger ale, salt, soup, Tums, ice, ice water, Ensure, daydreaming about Maria Sharapova handing me a cocktail on a tropical beach.....on and on. I tried everything. Things that had worked in the past were failing to provide any semblence of relief. Nothing freaking worked! Other than serious injury, stomach issues are the worst. When you can't eat, you lose energy. It made walking forward a chore, and moving up any kind of hill nearly impossible.

It was mile 84. All I had to do was walk two more miles to the Fire Tower aid station, and I could lay down for a while. Nope, I couldn't wait that long. My body wasn't having it. I needed to lay down now. I was walking 45 minute mile pace. Over the next two miles I layed down on the side of the trail four times for a total of about an hour. My stomach was not feeling any better, and it took nearly 1.5 hours to walk two miles. About a quarter mile from the aid station a volunteer came bounding down the trail to look for me. A few of the other runners had reported to the aid station they had seen a guy laying on the side of the trail "just sorta chilling there like he was relaxing".

When I finally got to the aid station, I knew my only resort was to lay down for a while. How long, I did not know. Within a few minutes I was already getting incredibly cold and wrapped myself in several blankets like a little Asian burrito. After an hour I got up to pee and nearly vomited to which I commented "Just like being back in college!". Pee pee break done, back to being an Asian burrito.

Two hours passed.....My stomach was still churning and bubbling. Three hours passed.....

It was now 4:45am. I arrived at the aid station at 12:45am. Four hours of laying down, and I inexplicably felt worse than when I arrived. Over the past 10 hours I had not eaten more than a cup of broth and a few sips of ginger ale. My body had long since been running on fumes. The meter was on empty, and had been on empty for quite some time now. Since laying down obvisouly didn't help, I knew I had to just get up and get moving. It was the only way I was going to make it to the next aid station, no less finish the race. At this point my G.A.S (give a shit) meter was also broken, and I switched into just finish mode. I got up, threw on a Snuggy (yes you read that right), because I was freezing from not moving for so long. After over fours hours at the Fire Tower aid station I made my first steps of forward progress, in my Snuggy, and was sent off with loud cheers. The resurrection of Mike Bailey.

Six hours later, through mud and chilly morning downpours, I crossed the finish line in 28:55. The last 23.2 mile loop of the course took me 12:25. I had needed to casually walk/run it in 7:22 in order to break 24 hours. Basically, I could have walked the final loop and broken 24 hours. However, some days are just not meant to be, and all you can do is just try and finish. It was like going on a date with Beyonce, and having her look like Oprah by the end of the night. Still a wealthy bang for the buck, just not nearly as attractive.

I think the races that give us the most challenge, can often come with the most reward. I think my crappy Massanutten 100 made me more mentally tough to handle a horrific day at this race. In a way, Mohican was much more mentally agonizing because of how well I had been running when shit hit the fan. At Massanutten I was never near the front, and was still pretty set on dropping, and yet at Mohican the notion of dropping never entered my thoughts. Even without a pacer, or crew, and even offers to get a ride back, I was 100% set on finishing. I suppose it really is the rough days that make us tougher, and not so much the "easier" successes.


Other than that, there were some fun quirky moments of this race.

1. Unknown to me, I ran the entire first loop with my shirt on backwards. That's what I get for putting my clothes on in a dark tent
2. I did run 3 miles of the race wearing a Snuggy
3. I lost both a handheld bottle and a flashlight
4. Shattered my "motionless at an aid station" PR by three hours (previously set at Massanutten)
5. Had roughly a 30 minute conversation about poop with a female runner (note: it was mostly her talking)
6. Drank water from a stream (possibly the reason I got sick. It almost makes sense with the timing of events)
6. Ran through a waterfall as tribute to The Last of the Mohicans yelling "I will find. Just stay alive!"
7. Forgot to pack a watch. Ran watchless all day. The second 100 I have finished without a watch.

waterfall on the long loop --->

<---the beautiful covered bridge

The Comeback Kid: A Massanutten 100 Story

(photo courtesy of MoutainPeakFitness)

There were three comebacks that happened on Sunday May 18th, 2013. The first being a comeback from months of injury and doubt to finish one of the toughest foot races in the country. The second being a comeback back from a recent back strain that got reaggrevated at mile 70 which nearly caused me to drop out at mile 78. The third and final comeback was avenging my DNF from 2009.

It was May 7th, 2013. All morning I had been stairing at my computer deciding whether or not to click the submit button. I was on the VHTRC's Massanutten Mountain Trails 100 "remove from event" page. I had eveything filled out and all I had to do was click a little button and I would be removed from the entrants list. Afterall, it was just two days earlier I had strained my back again from sleeping awkwardly on it. Those pesky lower back problems. Sigh. On and off since I was 14 years old, and now was a pretty crappy time for them to revisit. On a scale from 1 to 10 (10 being so painful I can't tie my shoes, or get out of bed), my body was around an 8 or 9. Not the place to be two weeks away from attempting a grueling event. May 7th was the last day to withdraw and receive a refund, and thus, removing myself from the entrants list seemed logical.

However, as May 7th came to an end and midnight arrived, I never allowed myself to click the submit button. So many thoughts had been lingering throughout my mind. I had waited so long to get back to Massanutten. Four long years, in fact. Though injured the entire fall and winter, I had forced myself to reinvent my running so I could squeeze in five weeks of quality training. 20 mile running weeks turned into 40 miles, and then 60, 80, and eventually 110 by May. Simply put, I had worked too damn hard to get be ready, and I owed it to myself to at least make it to the starting line.

The race itself really isn't as important as what happened before, or even after. I chose to run a smart race and not risk gunning for a sub 24 hour time. Five weeks of training, for what it's worth, wasn't enough to make a sub 24 hour finish plausible. Why chance it? Instead, I opted to run a smooth and casual 26-27 hour projected finish pace through the first 70 miles. I didn't feel tired, and everytime I arrived at an aid station I looked fresh as a daisy. A lot of folks commented on how, even matter 60+ miles, I looked like I hadn't even been running Then, in the blink of an eye my worst fears became a reality. On the steep climb up Jawbone my lower back completely seized up. Everything I had worried about happening in the previous weeks was coming to an ugly fruition. Over the next three hours I spent significant time stopping to stretch, rest my back, and figure out how to minimize the sharp pain running down my back with every step.

So many doubts afflicted my consciousness. "I should have just removed myself from that damn entrants list!". "Mike, why the hell did you come out here? You knew this would happen." "Your race is over". "Drop at the next aid station. Afterall, 78 miles on this course is still something to be proud of". "Mike, you have suffered for over three hours now, the next 34 miles will take you 12-13 more. You don't need this." "Be safe Mike. Just drop and don't hurt yourself. It's not worth it". "Two starts at Massanuteen. Two drops.". "You just flushed that $185 entry fee down the drain."

Crossing over Kern mountain in the black of night was a dark journey through my mind. It might has well have been the road to perdition. I slowly walked down the road to route 211 and the visitor's center aid station. I took my time, because I knew my race was going to end in just a few short minutes. Pretty soon this silly notion of running 100+ miles will be over and I will be in a warm car headed back to a haven a sleep and rest. Oh the irony. Such a difficult race, and yet the one thing to take me out was an injury that had nothing to do with this race, or even running.

When I arrived at mile 78, I told the volunteers I was dropping. I met my friends Tabitha, Ryan, and Emily and told them what had happened. I received no pitty as they urged me to keep going. But,they didn't get it. My back was jacked up, and another 26 miles of notoriously rocky mountain trails was not in the cards. 26 miles in my current condition meant at least another 10, or more hours on the trail. I was going to drop. Again, no pitty. I wrapped myself up in warm clothes and a sleeping bag, and laid on a cot to loosen up my back. I staired at the night sky, then at my friends, and listened to their encouragement to just keep going. I thought about what would happen if I dropped. What did I even have to go home to? My empty apartment? My job that is getting the axe in six weeks? All I would be bringing back with me would be dirty clothes and sense of longing for not acheiving what I ultimately set out to do. That's what makes me an ultrarunner.

"Ok Mike, it's time to go." Those were the simple words my friends gave me. Like a boxer getting up on the count of nine, I made my way back to my feet. Sometimes it just comes down to how much you can take and keep moving forward. Albeit slow, we soldiered on through the night as I fought off sleep deprivation. I had been up since 2:30am the day before, and was now nearing 28 hours without sleep. For most of my 100 mile races, I have finished near midnight, but this was an entirely different beast. My back was now a fleeting thought as lack of sleep had become my new nemesis. Eventually, I stopped along the trail for a five minute nap. When I got back up, I was recharged as if I had slept for several hours. As the sun came up I was a new man. Thought most of the final 26 miles were incredibly slow, I closed out the final seven miles with the heart of a lion. It wasn't fast, it wasn't pretty, but I'll be damned it WAS a finish. I will add, the one good part about having such a slow race is that I felt remarkably good post race. Considering the challenging nature of the course and terrain, I was quite pleased to come away with no blisters, no sore feet, and only minimal residual soreness in my legs. I actually looked so fresh at the finish that a lot of people (especially the ones who heard me say I was dropping at mile 78) thought I had dropped and had come back to cheer runners at the finish. Another friend even thought I had dropped and come back to pace a runner in. He didn't realize that I was still in the race and the runner who was with me was actually my pacer.

When I DNF'ed Massanutten in 2009, the only souvenir I got was a car accident, shards of window glass, and two bloody legs. This time I got a buckle, and from experience I will say getting the buckle is better.

Big thank yous to Ryan Quinnelly and Emily Warner who paced/crewed me for the final 26 miles. Thanks to my friend Tabitha who crewed for me most of the day and helped make my back feel better at mile 78. There's no doubt that without their encouragement during the race, and specifically at the crucial moment at mile 78, I was 99% going to drop. I am humbled by the amount of time and energy all of you put into this weekend to make things happen. You are amazing! Thanks also to all the volunteers who were out there from the early morning and the wee hours of the night to see us through.

Massanutten in 2014? We will see........ ;-)

-Mike Bailey

Stuff in the Basement: Graveyard 100, Round 2

(photo credit Russ Carawan and RacENC)

"Hey Rock. It takes guts climbing back in that ring knowing you're going to take a beating. Yo Rock....You're gonna do alright Rocko. There's stuff in the basement."

Eleven months ago I finished the innaugural Graveyard 100 in the Outer Banks. My body hurt more after Graveyard than other other race I have finished. My feet were swollen from pounding 101.2 miles of pavement. My teeth were chattering like castanets from being exposed to mid 30's temperatures and a constant wind. My mind was drained from gazing upon miles and miles of endless route 12 road. I told myself I was never going to run the Graveyard 100 again. Apparently, I lied. In two weeks I will step back in the ring for another round with the long lonely shoreline of the OBX.

I've always been a huge fan of the Rocky movie franchise, and as we are now fourteen days away from the Graveyard 100, the quote from above rings truer than ever. For those not familiar with the film Rocky Balboa, potentially the final movie in the series, the quote is from a short dialogue between Rocky and his often troubled brother in law Paulie. An old retired and recently widowed Rocky is coming out of retirement for possibly the last fight of his career. He knows he's rusty, decades beyond his physical prime, and knows he doesn't stand a great chance against the younger stronger opponent. He knows time is not on his side and that he's going to have to dig deep in order to go the distance. He has to find "the stuff in the basement", and if he does, only then will he be fully satisfied with the effort he gave.

Well, I may not be Rocky's age, but I am rusty and have had limited time to run the past six months. Thankfully, I seem to be mostly recovered from all the injuries that built up from September through January that prevented me from maintaining much of my fitness from 2012. I have some how managed to get in about a month of relatively consistent, though still fairly low intensity and low volume training. All my longs runs have had an average pace of 10:00 to 13:00 minutes per mile, and thus my speed is pretty much non existent these days. In all honesty, anything faster than a nine minute mile is probably too fast, so again, lack of speed isn't so much an issue as is conditioning for the distance. Like Rocky, I have had to revert to going completely old school in my training and methodology. No track workouts, no tempo runs, no 100 mile weeks, just grinding out the long stuff at a slow and steady pace.

If I am going to finish the Graveyard 100, I too will need to find the stuff in the basement. I'm not in the shape I was in last year, but I have valuable experience going in. Let's take a look at last year and see what I did right, and what I did wrong.

What I did right:

1. Not much, but my training leading up to Graveyard was solid, and eventually building up to some 90 mile weeks. Too bad I squandered good training with a poor strategy.

2. Kept my nutrition and hydration pretty good during the race.

What I did wrong: Everything

1. Went out too aggressively. Led through the mile 38.6 water stop before being passed by the eventual winner. Ran splits of 2:44 through 19.9 miles, 3:40 through the marathon, 4:22 through 50k, and 4:35 through 32.7 miles. Way too fast for a 100 miler, but it was tough earned lesson in realistic pacing. FYI, it was a projected sub 14 hour pace. Legs got too trashed too early which caused me to slow down way sooner than expected. End result, epic blowup, finish time 20:28.

2. Did not use a crew. This meant I had to carry all my clothing and nutrition in a pack for the 18-25 mile durations between full aid stations. Carrying the extra weight took its toll over the course of the race.

3. Did not pack warm enough clothing. My body got very cold after mile 80, and really prevented me from getting my legs moving much for the remainder of the race.

4. Did not take care of blisters early. Again, the blisters started forming, and I was still 15 miles from the next place to fix them. When I got there, they didn't have anything to fix blisters like duct tape, body glide, or vaseline. My feet were too wrecked to even jog after mile 80. Lack of running meant I got cold quicker and easier which led to even slower walking. In fact, lack of any running/jogging after mile 80 probably cost me over an hour.

5. Missed a waterstop. Some of the main water stops were not set up when I ran through, and therefor only gallon jugs of water were put out. I actually missed one completely and had to run backwards on the course a quarter mile to refill.

This year the game plan is to be smarter than last year, which shouldn't be tough. Looking back at last year's splits it's crazy how fast I went out. That 4:22 50k split was actually a personal best (which is never ever good to do during a 100). Factor in wearing about six pounds of gear, spending six minutes at the water stops, I was probably running low eight minute miles for the first third of the race. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This year, I will be uncrewed again, but hopefully plan ahead a little better.

On another note, this year's event has drawn some of the biggest names in ultrarunning, including Valmir Nunes, Mike Morton, Jonathan Savage, and Connie Gardner. This means the 2013 Graveyard will host two of the fastest Badwater champs of all time, a Western States champion, two American 24 hour record holders, and three members of the US 24 hour team. Every name mentioned above is capable of breaking 15 hours, and most likely 14, and dare say 13 for Morton. My one regret is that I will be hours behind and won't be able to watch this incredibly talented field. There are also several other very exciting names in the mix including Brad Smythe, Olivier Leblond, and Marie Ange Smith. Jan Erick Olsen, who battled Brenda Carawan for first place in the later miles last year, is back to avenge his mile 90 DNF. Andrei Nana (2nd last year) is another returner who has recently taken the 100 mile running scene by storm, as well as last year's female open winner Kelley Wells. All in all, it should be an exciting day, and depending on what the weather decides, we could be in for one wild ride.

As for me? I don't have any real goals, other than to finish. Hopefully, I can break 24 hours again. I still plan on putting everything out there and to do my best, regardless of where my fitness may.