Scheisse Cramps My Style

June 9, 2013
Squamish 50 Orientation Run 3 of 3

There are a lot of things that inspire us to push our limits and force us to see just what we're capable of.
The Squamish 50 Ultra Marathon, put on by Gary Robbins and Geoff Langford, an event that I signed up for in December of 2012 (with very little concept of what I was in for), is one such life event that has developed a deeper sense of perseverance, and has pushed my training limits in so many ways. On June 9th, some of those limits fell like dominoes as I broke several personal records in my running resume.

When I signed up for the Ultra, the options were for the 50k, the 50 miler, or a shorter 24k trail run. As my first ultra marathon, the conventional wisdom recommends to run a 50k (often after having done at least one standard marathon of 42k). Well, not one to abide to conventional wisdom I signedup for the 50 miler, a full 59 kilometers farther than I had ever run.

I signed up for the full distance of 50 miles (80k), not because I want to boost my ego (running and training for an Ultra Marathon is more of a humbling experience than an ego stroking one), but rather because there was--and still is at the time of this writing--a very, very, very big chance of not succeeding. Well, that sense of potential failure (DNF) is darn right too enticing to pass up on!

Doing a 50k, even from where I was back in December compared to now, has pretty much a zero chance of failing to complete the race distance. I would finish the race with grit. Maybe it's my martial arts background, but you always finish the fight, and the 50k was a fight I knew I could finish.

Now step into the mindset of the 50 mile distance, and I wasn't so sure. In fact the seeds of doubt were so huge that I was forced to take it seriously. It is an intimidating and lofty goal for someone so new to running, and somehow that's attractive to me. The epic nature of the course, and the work that would need to be done to complete such an endeavor is monumental, and I like that.

Preparing for a long day

The RD's, Gary and Geoff, wisely put on several orientation runs: a 24k that followed the back end of the course (which kicked my ass and flared up a knee injury that set me back for 4 weeks), a 32k middle section (which kicked my ass and brought to light my nutrition woes with vomit inducing nausea), and a 47k which covers the course from kilometers 10 to 57.
Not more than a couple of weeks prior to the 3rd orientation run, Gary posted some changes to the SQ50 website listing the following: a new earlier start time for all runners, additional drop bag locations, and modified cut off times. The course was turning out to be much harder than first anticipated and when Gary says that, you know it's a beast! (The 2012 course was different due to permit issues and 2013 replaces a ton of service roads with amazing technical single track)

We Run Mas Crew

On to training day!! We show up on the morning of the final orientation, ripe with anticipation. Several of our running group "We Run Mas" members are there also, including Elaine Fung, Adina Dragasanu, Shanthi Jayarajah, and Gregan Dunn. The rest of the crew is planning on doing a 37k version, and I'm shooting for the 47k today: it'll be my first marathon distance, first ultra distance, most elevation in a single run, and the longest time on my feet. Like I said, dominoes.

My goal:  8 hours at a steady effort with no injury. Period.

Awesome Turn Out

Gary runs off, chalk canister in hand, as the rest of us take our group shot. He has a two minute lead, although it's doubtful anyone's gonna catch him, even with him having to mark the trail as he runs.

Gregan and I run together to the trail head, Adina "Fairy of the Forest" is slightly ahead, and Shanthi and Elaine are cruising in the back of the pack. Gregan and I take an easy effort to the first section leading to Debeck's Hill. As we reach the meat of the climb, we are about 45 minutes in, and Gregan, who is a much faster climber than I, takes off. It's pretty cool watching him run up hill. I am monitoring my heart rate and want to stay sub 160bpm to keep from going anaerobic.

As I climb Debeck, a familiar face paces with me, a wonderful lady named Michaela. Well, she's wonderful now, but she made some fierce fun of my passion for bright colors on the Iron Knee race at the start line a few weeks back. Just kidding . . .we have a great chat as we climb the hill, sharing stories of our families and the little motivations of life that push us forward.
I tell her my wife and kids are crewing me today, since it's my longest run, which she finds very endearing. Awwwww, how sweet. We reach the top of the climb together and her running partner, Margot, is seconds behind.

Michaela and Margot

Quick photo op, and we start down Debeck descent. I zip past them and bound down the hill, knees, feet and quads all feeling superb. I pass Adina and another runner named Emily along the way. After reaching the base of the hill fresh as a daisy, I run towards Alice Lake.

That's Me Approaching My Crew

As I leave the perimeter of Alice Lake I see my crew. My wife and kids are there. I grab a quick cheer, pound a coke and refill some water. I bound off towards the Stump Lake loop with renewed vigor. I'm 10 minutes behind Gregan.
It's about kilometer 14 when I see Adina catching up. She chases me down for a few klicks, until I stop to evict "Henry" from my shoe. I'm normally fine with debris in my shoes, but once I start naming them, they have to go. We zip up the switchbacks together and reach the Aid Station at kilometer 18 together.

Adina "Fairy of the Forest"

She's doing the 37k route, so with a quick replenish of hydration, she goes left, and I go right to complete the 10k loop just south of the Aid Station. I dart off down the trail and suddenly, sharp pain in the right ankle. I screech to a halt and pull a nasty looking bug from my shoe. Bastard stung me! Well, whatever, move on trooper. I head down the service road, dodging hydro workers who are doing electrical work on some very tall powerlines. Suddenly I realize it's hot. Like really, really hot. Fully exposed, I trot down the hill at a decent clip when I see a runner heading up. He's about 7k ahead of me, having already completed the loop (amazing how fast some dudes are!). He gives me some pointers, and I take a moment to enjoy the scenery as I head back into singletrack forest.

This Bridge is Cool!! The Sun is hot!!

I get into the woods and am having a great time. Eating, drinking, pacing. All good. Then it strikes. Calf cramp. Weird. I don't cramp. I've heard of this phenomenon, but I'm not at all familiar with it. maybe my pace was too quick earlier? Hmm, Clif Shots? Carbs? Nuun? I forget about the salt caps in my vest (big mistake). I can't run fast. I can run, just not fast. Steady as she goes. Some light stretching every km or so. I reach some technical, very steep downhill, and wish I could jump down it, but don't want to aggravate the calf cramping.

I get spit out onto the bottom of the fire service road that I had left earlier and start the 4km climb back to the Aid Station. Uphill is much better! What the what? Did I just say that?! I truck along, passing some day hikers who think we're crazy (I guess they found out how far we were running).

I get to the Aid Station and ask Geoff how many more 47k runners to come. He says about twelve. Okay, I think, fine. Sadly, he was wrong, as those who signed up for it skipped the loop and were already ahead of me (this caused some confusion and phone calls to runners who they were expecting to see twice. Very responsible of the RD's. Good job.). This meant I had no one behind me (Shanthi and Elaine had gotten lost and took a "modified" route). I'm glad I didn't know this at the time. More coke, and I run off to meet the big climb . . . 3000' feet of up.

I hit the trailhead and start climbing. BAM, cramp. This time left calf. BAM, right calf. They're playing ping pong. Wait, the ping pong ball went out of bounds . . . BAM right Quad. What the heck!! I slow my water intake. Oh snap, SALT!! My black sleeveless windbreaker is white from salt buildup. I am at 1600' feet. My heart rate shows 220bpm. What the bejeezus?! 220!! I have a panic attack. Are my electrolytes so far out of whack that I'm having a heart attack? Wait a second, slow down there "worrisome willy". My heart rate monitor slipped off and was sending inaccurate readings to my Garmin. Okay, fix the darn thing, disrobe my vest and shirt and run on the spot as I do so. I must have looked like an idiot to anyone watching (which was the bears and the screaming trees and the moss) as my muscles were cramping and I sang a song to myself to ensure I was still alive. I know, ridiculous.

Shirt, vest and heart rate monitor all back in place . . . the problem is that the HR reading made me forget about taking salt caps. Dummy.

1900' . . ..cramping, 2000' cramping . . .  2600' cramping . . .  doesn't this mountain ever end?! It peaks around 3500' feet and I'm in full leg spasms the entire way up. At one point my left calf literally disappeared while my right calf did the wave up to my groin. Neat bedroom trick. Not so neat on a relentless climb up a trail called Galactic Scheisse.

Suddenly, the trail ends. it's kilometer 35'ish, I've run further than I've ever been before, on the top of a mountain that has no more trail. Instead, there's a small gorge and a river, and a tree with a rope hanging off it that drops to a small lip below. From there, a 20' foot log crosses the mountaintop river. Okay, easy, climb down the rope, cross the river by walking across the log and climb up the other side. No problem . . . except I'm cramping like a MOFO! A couple of deep breaths, grab the rope, and swing to the side of the ledge. BAM, full right leg cramp. I hang there for what seems like an eternity, as the bears and screaming trees and moss all giggle and roll in laughter. Good thing I have experience hanging from rope (a tale for another time)!

I drop to the ledge, and regroup. Slow steps, no cramps please, otherwise I'm taking a drink. I focus on the log like a tight rope walker and make it to the other side before I collapse in a heap as my left calf revolts again. SALT!! Oh right. I pop 3x Thermalyte salt caps and take a sip of Nuun. Slow walk up the slope, and along overgrown single track and my legs are starting to come back after about ten minutes. I see the hill going down. I eat some McDonald's Cheeseburger extra ketchup, no onions from my pack. Salty. Delicious. Clif Shots . . . I can run!

7km of steep technical downhill. I'm having a blast again, but I probably look like hell. Let's take a picture:

My Hell Face

I'm moving at a good pace though. The salt helped. Quest University comes up quicker than I expected. Then I see this glorious marker!

Holy snap! Time for music. I max the speaker on my iPhone and pull up NIN Downward Spiral on the playlist. It's a solid 3K cruise down dirt road to the start area at the Canadian Tire just off the sea to sky! I'm about 800 meters out and my leg is cramping again (I'm out of salt caps) and I don't care. I'm running this in to the finish!

Running It In: 47km + 6000' of climbing!

I'm stoked to be done. My family is there and so is Gregan! So cool that he came back after having lunch to see me come in. Gary and Geoff congratulate me for the achievement as I share my stories highs and lows. Gary points out that 4 to 6 salt caps an hour is what I need, as opposed to the 6 caps I took in all day!
 Ok, lesson learned. Well, that's what it's all about ain't it!

Finish time:  7:51 of running. 

Iron Knee 2013: Race Report

Race Day: May 26th, 2013

I've been suffering a few niggly injuries in the form of a banged up knee from my femur rotating inwards and was aching for a solid long run where nothing went wrong. That wasn't going to the case on this particular event. The terrible beginning would pale in comparison to how simply awesome things were going to finish.

Gary Robbins, a local runner and elite Ultra runner, who is also the course director for the Squamish 50, my "A race" for the year, and wins more stuff than you can imagine (go read his blog), sent me a video with some rehab he did after suffering a double leg break a couple of years back. I had always ignored run specific strength training but, since February of this year, after my knee decided to revolt and sent March into a downward spiral of hurt, leading to a no-run April, I paid attention to the imbalanced and weaknesses I had generated, and started getting to work.

Massage therapy, some hard ass slow controlled movements and a focus on supporting muscle groups was slowly but surely alleviating some of my pains. KT Tape was also become a fast friend to my legs, if not my bank account. I had found a unique taping method that allowed me to run without stabbing pain, and so my runs ramped up again.

In the end of May, we did a 32km long orientation run in Squamish on the SQ50, and my knee was superb. That run I went out too hard in the first 14 k, overdid the gels in the first hour and became seriously nauseous by km 19 and had no quads left for what was, in essence, the most difficult and challenging long run of my reasonably new running life. I learned a lot on that run, but was not planning on repeating the poor finish and failed nutrition plan.
Now I ought to mention, I love downhill technical trails. A lot. I tend to go too hard down them, and haven't found the balance yet on how to enjoy that exuberance AND make it past plus 30k feeling fresh. I'm still learning and making mistakes on every run. Of course, I'm also listening to the feedback and ensuring it would generate a better performance for next time.

So here we were, the next time. The Iron Knee was intended to be a 24k training race for me, not an "A race" by any means. It was an exercise in seeing where I was, what was working technique wise, and also a bit of an experiment. For nutrition, I was going to run with 20oz Ultraspire handheld filled with NUUN grape flavor and CLIF Shot Bloks. That's it - no vest, no gels, no water, no salt tabs, no solid food. Let's see what happens.

Elaine Fung, a dear friend, fellow martial artist and 'OG' runner of our running group "We Run Mas," and I were decked out in rainbow gear. Compression sleeves, and fluorescent colors. Euro Chic is what we call it. We like fancy wine too.

Elaine Fung and I rockin' it like it's 1986

Our plan was to go out slow and enjoy the course. My personal plan was to run a steady effort the entire race. I wasn't going for a PR or a PB or anything else like that (well I suppose it would be both since I haven't run the course before, but let's ignore the semantics shall we). Sub 3 hours would be great. Sub 2:45, even better and on target. Sub 2 1/2 hours? Probably too fast for a training race, since I'm planning on running for the rest of the following week according to a schedule also. Now to point out I'm a 45'ish min 10k runner for road, which isn't too fast. I've never run a road half marathon, so the trail paces are all course specific. My 5k pace is 4:20 (yea, I know, chuckle chuckle potheads) and that's pushing it. There you go, enough of the math and runner geek stuff, let's get to the start line, shall we.

Elaine and I at the start!

The first climb is a steady run from Cleveland Dam to the base of the Grouse Grind. The gun goes off, and we run up the road for a mile and then turn right on the trail head and follow a rocky wide track that has a slow climb up with a few bends and turns. Calves are feeling tight right off the bat, but that's typical for an uphill start, so whatever, no biggy. Keep running. We were easily in the back of the pack, which is a nice feeling when you're not pushing it as a goal race, but rather using it to develop a strong performance for a few months down the line. You can talk to people and enjoy the scenery on these types of events and figure things out for later. Let's call it fine tuning adaptation.

We reach the single track trailhead together and after a bit more climbing, there's a short descent. I decide to see how the knee is doing, and skip down passing a few people along the way. I like to frolick. We reach the bottom, and there's a girl there at an Aid station in the middle of nowhere. I have a laugh, thank her for hanging out in the depths of a west coast rain forest, and take a few leaps up the trail and wait for Elaine. Uh oh, what's this? My calf is stiff and my right foot is tingly. Whatever, loosen the laces on my Salomon S-Lab XT5's, and keep going, It's technical uphill from here, so steady as she goes. Elaine catches up and we navigate some great roots, rocks and muddy middles. Right foot is still a bother, loosen the patellar strap and loosen the laces. Foot is a full tingle. Elaine continues on and I fiddle with my shoes.

We hit some undulating uphill and are only about 4km in, when that's it: I can't feel my foot. At all. I don't know where it's landing, what it's kicking, how high it is, or anything. From the mid shin down, there's zero propreoception and no feedback. Left foot strike, nothing, left foot strike, nothing, left foot strike, nothing . . . each and every stride. I'm concerned. Balance is an issue and I don't want to wipe out. I slow to a walk, since running on technical is impossible with no right foot. Elaine is long gone.
I walk for another 2 km, still nothing. I can't curl my toes, angle my foot or do any controlled movement below the right knee. Hmm, this could be the first time I DNF. No point in snapping a leg for a training race. My pace is gone. I am being passed by everyone. I mean, EVERYONE. I meet a trail marshall and ask her where the next aid station is as I will be dropping from the race. She says it a couple of kliks away on Old Mountain Highway and she' sorry. "Thanks," I say and plod along. One foot at a time.

What I imagine to be one of the last place runners in the race comes along. I'm likely around position 165 out of 166 runners. Yes, it's that bad. The runner asks if I'm okay and I explain I'm probably gonna pack it in, since I can't feel my foot. She's not overly fast and says she just started trail running 6 months ago. She's sliding all over the place on the slick roots and rocks, but is tenacious in her approach, which I admire immensely. I hold my breath a couple of times on her account but she stays upright and keeps moving forward. I can keep a slow run pace with her and place my feet where she does. She came at just the right moment. I thank her for allowing me to keep pace with her, and follow her footfalls, as it's the only way I can stay upright and run at the same time. We dial in a km or so, and then the first descent down Mt. Fromme begins. The aid station is near, so I might as well run it in before handing in my bib. My run is slow and tempered, careful and deliberate. Not how I tend to run downhill at all, but c'est la vie. Another kilometer and my day will be done. Somehow, I manage to catch up to Elaine and my right foot tingles, as though  it's coming back to life. I'm so excited to see her (really,you have no idea), and shout out as I catch up.

We run into the Aid Station together and lo and behold who do I see?!

Ellie Greenwood, Ultra Runner Extraordinaire

Yup, Ellie Greenwood. Now, if one is going to DNF a race, it doesn't happen at an aid station where Ellie Greenwood, Ultra Runner of the Year, Western States 100 course record holder, basically the elite of the elite Ultra runners in the world, is hanging out. She's offering coke and chips and gels. Big smile. I introduce myself, as I was too shy to do so when we ran (together) at the first SQ50 orientation run in March. She says Elaine and I look "too fresh" and we ought to "run faster". Okay, well, when Ellie says run faster, you run faster. My thoughts of DNF'ing due to club foot start to fade and Elaine and I depart the final stretch of Mt. Fromme heading into Lynn Valley.

Elaine and I drop into the trail head again, a part of a trail system we know very well, and my foot is coming alive. Tingly but giving sensation and feedback! Yes, I can run downhill at last. I shift gears and start a controlled tumble into some watery, rocky single track. The undergrowth holds their leaves out like fans on the side of the road cheering me on.

The steep steps that drop into Lynn Valley road are coming to completion and Elaine is minute or so behind. I see waving hands down below and another lift of spirit is there cheering me on! It's my wife and two boys. They're clapping and waving as I make my descent and greet them. I quickly communicate what happened and why I'm so far behind to which my wife, Simone says, "Don't DNF because of your foot. You have another one!" With a backwards run and a big smile, I give a wave and burst down the road to the next trail connector.

Coming down Mt. Fromme

I come into the Lower Syemour Conservation Reserve feeling great. I've made up a few places I lost and take a coke and some chips at the aid station. I'm about to enter a trail network I haven't run before so "stay conservative and run with a steady effort" I remind myself. There is a big climb ahead . . . somewhere.

I reel in a couple of more runners on a service road that goes downhill. I have modified my technique on this type of terrain in the past several weeks and the refinement is paying off. There's a hurt runner ahead and woman in red assisting him. I stop and she explains his knees are toast. He looks like he's in pain big time and the straight downhill gravel road is killing him. He struggles along and he, Donna (the lady) and I head towards the next climb as we turn onto a single track uphill. Donna and I have a great chat about the course, which she has run about 20 times, and has raced 4 times. I make a mental note of her wisdom and thank her, since now I have a plan in my head on how to run the rest of the race. My foot and DNF woes are a distant memory.

Now I want to know how I can make up some time.

Our injured friend starts the climb with us, I tell him he's doing great and then Donna and I start power hiking up Powerline Hill. It's a 1500 foot climb up single track within a 2km distance. In other words, steep. Last year in Oct 2012, when I did my first (trail) half marathon the climbs were torture. I didn't have the technique or form or muscular set up to achieve any success in them. This climb was a confidence booster. I kept an even tempo and reached the top with a lot left in the gas tank. Two aid station workers hold out a buffet of hydration: coke, electrolyte, water, juice? Coke please. 2 Clif Shot Bloks left and Donna says it's all downhill from here. I take off.

Now, I've had fun running downhills before, but never like this. I am literally flying down the trail. It's the most aggressive and carefree I've ever run downhill. It's gonna be a solid 6k effort, but I've got the quads today and I'm energized to finish after such a brutal start. I'm reeling in the back of the pack runners, and passing course marshalls with a huge smile on my face. It's super technical, rooty rocky, slippery and tacky mud throughout but I'm charging it with a recklessness. Day hikers heading uphill are cheering on the runners and they boost my energy, as I thank them all for giving way on my ridiculous free-fall down Mount Seymour's east slope. My Garmin later shows I peaked at 3:37 pace and averaged 5:15 for this section. Wicked! A couple of small up and downs near the base and the last downhill to the end. THE best final 5 1/2k stretches I've had all year.

Final junction, and I yell out, "How far?" to a course marshall. She says 400 meters, and I see the beach and balloons at Deep Cove. Full sprint. Yes! BAM! No! Calf cramp. My right leg buckles then goes straight. I'm about to go over. Hard. Someone screams, "Come on, it's right there!" I pull my toes up in my shoe, and push to the finish line, arms raised.

2:57:36! Paris, my son and Peter, Race Director

My wife, and boys are waiting for me. I get my medal. Final Placement was 133 of 166 - a full 32 spots up from where I was at km 6 of 24. I can live with that. A strong finish is what I was after.

Mmm, Gold tastes like chocolate

Damn, I love this sport.

The Starting Line

Hi Everybody,

This blog is a record of my journey into the world of Ultra Running (and running in general), hence its title Ultra Inspired. I started running late in my life, having started last year in March of 2012 at the age of 37 in order get ready for Tough Mudder Whistler. Before that point, I couldn't stand running (loathe wouldn't be out of place here) and focused mainly on being athletic through Kickboxing and MMA.

However, something clicked and I really loved it. The whole minimalist movement changed the way I ran and suddenly I could go further and faster than I could before. More on the minimalism thing in later posts.

So, I'll be sharing some tidbits of my journey so far, what made me go from a non-runner to deciding to set my goals on trail running and Ultra distances, as well as the bumps along the way. I certainly hope you find some of what you read insightful and entertaining.

I will also be posting about training successes and failures, race reports, trail reports, nutrition highs and lows and other related topics throughout. One of the great things about trail running is the culture that goes along with it, including the elites who are willing to give you some tips, and the general camaraderie in the woods, including the evolution of our running group "We Run Mas".

It is very much a human-binding experience in my mind, the connection that we feel and develop with others "out there."

Welcome to Ultra Inspired (or U and I for short). Let's go run together.

Ed Kumar