Popping the Ultra Cherry - VUC 2013

Finally, I got the belt buckle. About time. Literally; I was dead last and really close to the cut-off. The finish area packed down and the race director anxious to get home. But it didn't matter; I finished it and can finally call myself an ultra runner. Now for some Aloe Vera oil for my butt cheeks.

Prolog
I can definitely say that I was better prepared for this race than my first attempt last year, though I realize now how laughably unprepared I was then. Never the less I did feel that I could have done a few more long runs in training, but I felt confident after 5-hour trail run with Matthew and a 3-hour recce of the race course in the weeks leading up to the race. Then I tapered as I usually do the last fortnight; way too much. I probably didn't run at all for most of the period and did some half assed jogs the last few days before toeing the line.

I felt more confident about finishing, even harboring a goal of finishing at around 12-13 hours, but thankfully the stupid optimist was calling the shots, because if I had listened to the realist inside I probably would have bailed and "overslept" when Matthew picked me up.

I had packed quite a lot of calories in form of bars, gels, nuts, candy and the bean-and-rice heavy burritos, dividing them in several zip-lock bags. Remembering how I struggled last time around I made sure I had more than enough, in fact too much.

I could have fed a third world village for a month with this. Which is genuinely depressing

The start in Holmestrand was at a sports club, with wardrobes and modern facilities - a far cry from NUC. We got there in perfect time, but the standard uncertainties of whether to change straight away, having a crap, packing the back-pack, picking up the racing bibs and maps, wondering if I had had a shit this morning or not, looking for the where to leave the dropbags, lubing up in public, putting on the shoes, and then finally going for a shit anyway when you hear some commotion and wipe yourself like your are under fire before you run out to the race director going through the race.

The race directors name is Thomas Pinås, and that Norwegian surname sounds comically close to how English speakers pronounce 'Penis', so Matthew giggled quite a lot.

"I can't take someone with that name seriously,"

Oh, look! The favorite to win this race, Simen(seaman, or, you know;) Ellingsen Rustad is here!

"..."

"And here's Smælly Kuntz with the starting pistol."

The Start
Matthew had spent some time to calculate the splits for several finishing times, it was a beautiful piece of excel work and we had also done a fateful recon of the first 20-30 Ks of the course so we planned to go out confidently slow in the back. The last time we were here we had spent most of the time wondering if we were lost or not, now we rode in the back just passing time and chatting. And by chatting I mean making fun of the other racers. We derided everybody in tights. People in Hoka One One shoes. Buff people in expensive gear. People with iPhones attached to their arms listening to dutch early nineties techno, no doubt. Old people who seemed to already be in pain - brave, but stupid. The guy who looked like a dickhead, he just did.

We entered the forest after a couple of klicks on road, behind a couple of fit guys running in-step. I was just about to point out that they looked military when Matthew interrupted me.

"I bet they are a couple,"

I didn't have a good comment. They were clean shaved, fresh-faced, fit and wearing the same tights and shoes. Army or gay? I was confused.

Still Having Fun

Hvittingen 13,8 K 
We had started to push a bit before the long climb up to Hvittingen, which was the third checkpoint. We had agreed to hike up easy as it was the first big ascent. I think we might have gotten a bit to preoccupied with putting some distance to the group we were running with because I was short on breath when we started up the dirt road up and I really didn't get it back for a while.

Matthew was eating and striding along on his unfairly long legs like he was going back to his cubicle from lunch while I was really struggling to keep up, feeling like a midget(which isn't too far off) taking 6 strides for his one. So much for taking it easy. But I felt some urgency too put some distance on the other guys, we thought we were in the back and there would be a long fast descent in a short while.

When we got to the top I forgot about my planned walking lunch and went up to lead us into the single track trails downwards. I could hear the rest of the group and I really wanted to lose them, so I went for it. I got to say that I think my edge is on technical and gnarly downhills, my ridiculously low center of gravity makes it almost impossible to fall over and my hobbit-feet always shuffle impossibly quickly to regain balance when I slip on wet rock. We went pretty fast down, perhaps unnecessarily so, but I had a blast.

"You kept a good pace there, eh?" Which was a relief to hear, since I feared that I had slowed us down on the way up.

Hanekleivane ~20 K
The weather was unseemly hot for late May, but then what is normal these days? We refilled water and cooled down in a stream in some shade before running into the leader of the 50K race.

"Way to go! WOOO!" We shouted and clapped, the poor guy almost tripped and looked liked he blundered into the serial rapist ward of a prison. We enjoyed cheering on the runners coming the other way, and I guess the Norwegian stereotype isn't know for this. But I realize I become the unfunny drunk funny-guy in a race.

"You're only two minutes behind, go get him!"

Kaldmodammen ~26 K   
We were doing pretty well, trying to stay in the shade when possible and dunking our heads in every other stream to cool down. I was worrying since I had hardly touched my food and only nibbled on nuts and some bars. We saw some guys lumbering in front of us and pushed a little bit to overtake them along a rural dirt road. When we overtook them I noticed the 50K bibs and thought we wasted energy on someone who were just about to turn around again for the shorter race. The first signs of fatigue were showing and I could feel my neck being warm. This will be harder than I thought.

Going uphill

We got to the aid station and the turn around for the 50k rejoicing and jubilant; the heat sapped our strength and the warm, flat coke was a godsend. Being Norwegian a slice of bread with a spread of salami is the most boring item in a school lunch pack, but at the aid station it was just glorious. It has never tasted as good, it tasted of victory.

I love the smell of salami in the morning.

We didn't stay in the gastronomic hotspot for long however, as we were looking for our dropbags. Someone said it was up ahead, so we went up ahead; a steep and rocky climb for about 100 meters until we got to the checkpoint which didn't have any dropbags. Matthew and I debated whether the guy we asked misunderstood us and we should go back or if we had enough food for the rest of the race. I was just tired and didn't want to head back down again because it would crush me mentally to climb back up, and I hadn't even gone through a third of my food. Matthew had packed lightly and was dependent of this resupply so he wanted to go back down again. I grudgingly went with him and filled my pack with a couple of zip-lock bags, which might have been a mistake - the pack was heavy and I hadn't even used up my first.

The Turnaround

"Faenfaenfaenfaen!" I was feeling sorry for myself; I was lost and shin deep in mud. I had managed to struggle up a long climb and knew that it would be a long descent down to the halfway point, if I found a way out of this nightmarish landscape that could be used as a location for scene for a film about the Somme 1916.

Suddenly I saw a runner peeking at me from the hill behind me; he waved and head down another direction. Fuck!

I was running downhill again, on a wide dirtroad, so my spirit soared again. But the halfwaypoint was still unbelievably far off and for every meter I ran downhill meant a meter of suffering back up.

Suddenly I saw Matthew again, he was hiking not so casually anymore.

"God, I'm finished, if you hurry up, you'll catch me," Yeah, right.

It got my racing instinct back up again and I pushed on.

Andorsrud, 41K
The guy who had waved to me strolled past, nodding and pointing to the car park just ahead.

"At-fucking-last!" was my response. My eyes were stinging from the sweat and I had realized that I hadn't lubbed up between my ass cheeks. They felt like they were glued to each other, so I grabbed one cheek and pulled at it - I didn't hear, but I swear I felt a tearing noise. Lord have mercy, it was painful, and it got even worse when a stream of sweat flowed down my crack.

Now I was in my municipality and at what I thought would be a critical point of the race - I had enough cash to take a bus home and feared that would be too tempting, but it was thankfully not even on my mind. Butthurt and warm I started on the climb back up.

I hiked hard, and actually sprinted up a steep section when I saw dead adder stretched across the road. I'm terrified of snakes and their smaller brethren.

Mapreading Blues

Dammyra, 47K

And here is where the race almost came undone. I got to the checkpoint and went straight up a smaller trail because of some plastic ribbons hanging on some trees. I didn't notice they were different from the green ones that had been used earlier and I didn't bother to check the map since it seemed obvious. So off I went for 3-4Ks before realizing I was completely off-course. I saw a energy gel cap on the ground and assumed it had to be one from the race until I found out, no, I'm definitely lost. I got up the map and dithered a bit before I decided trying a smaller trail to save time. After 15 minutes I got to my senses and backtracked, probably having lost an hour and, more crucially, my morale. From this point it was just a death march back.

I met a big swede on the way back to the course; he had kept getting lost in this race, but was cheerful, which didn't help me any. He chatted away and tried to urge me on, but I just wanted to be by myself and suffer in silence. At a small incline I just shuffled slowly and let him get away.

Now I had to loudly bully myself to run every time I had stopped or hiked. My legs were getting sore and my left knee felt very tight. I actually slapped my head a few times just to get running after hiking up a hill.

I really don't remember anything else than suffering and moaning at this point. I made it to the feedstation where the mr. Penis just arrived in his car and he had brought fresh pizza. He first offered me a ride, which I declined and then offered pizza, which I still can't fathom that I also declined.

"Are you sure? You don't look too good,"

"s,dfnjslkdlfns" I gibbered, I really couldn't string a coherent thought together and found it hard to explain why I just wanted to get on with it. Obviously I should have stopped for a few minutes to eat the pizza slice; it would have done wonders not just physically, but also given me a much needed mental boost. I trudged on knowing I had a lot of downhills ahead, which for once I didn't look forward to that as my legs were paying for the earlier ones I had bombed down.

Deathmarch 

The way down from the feedstation to Hanekleiva was just bad. My quads and knees were hurting, I had stopped to piss for the first time and it was the color of dark tea, my ass cheeks were on fire, I heard some runners catching up with me and it was getting dark as I stumbled up for the last, but long climb up to Hvittingen. It was a long, but fun and technical descent, now it was a stab in the heart of my efforts to get that damn belt buckle. It's here I questioned my sanity and why the fuck I had gotten myself into this situation. As in NUC I started to complain loudly about everything; absurdly abusing the landscape for being deceiving and the trails for making no sense.

When I finally got to the top the army couple caught up with me. They got to the ground, took off their shoes and started to eat - just taking a rest with neatness and precision. I squeezed out a few drops of coke colored piss and chatted with them. I didn't dare to sit down and told them about the strange tint of my urine. They said it didn't sound good. At all. That scared me into finishing this thing faster, so I left them and started on one of the most painful descents I've ever done.     

"How are you doing?" I checked my phone and I had just received a message from Matthew. I was closing in on check point 2 and was seriously considering just curling up to sleep under a tree. The army guys had overtaken me a long time ago and even though I was out of water I hadn't bothered to refill my bottles - I was a raving maniac at this point, giving my trademark abuse to a conspiring signpost. I just remember a dark forest with every norwegian, spanish and english swear words piercing the serene silence.

And the messages just got worse.

The Home Stretch   

I felt immense relief when I saw some lights in the distance and got to the farm stead, though it was short-lived as I stepped on the asphalt - I got some surprising jolts of pains up my legs and hips. Great. I had to walk a fair bit in the last couple of Ks.

I was on the verge of tears when a car stopped and a writer from Kondis(a norwegian magazine) got out to take pictures as he told me: "It's just 1100 meters left!" I guess he thought he was being encouraging, but you just don't say it like that. In my mind I was perhaps 800 meters off, now my sadistic brain started to count down: "1099 - 1098 - 1097... oh, for fuck's sake brain, thanks a lot!"

"You just couldn't say 1,1km, could you?" ©Kondis.no\Olav Engen

Matthew met me hundred meters of the finish and I tried to sprint in. It was just Mr. Penis who impatiently congratulated me and gave me five minutes to fill up some water before I unceremoniously changed to warm clothes and got in Matthew's car.

"Congratulations with your first ultrafinish, man. Now wear that buckle with pride."

The finish was quick and emotionless, all I wanted was to get home and go to sleep.

Epilogue
It was strange, I really hated the race and decided that I never would do this again, especially as I ventured into the shower and the unsurprising pain when water trickled down my crack. My colleagues thought I was nuts as I hobbled around in the office taking pride in that rather cheesy belt buckle that was so important to me, and I guess I could agree with them. It is nuts. It is bat shit insane. Nobody, not even me could see a point in the suffering. However I met up with Matthew for a few beers a couple of days later and we talked the whole night about the race and we enabled each other with this weird addiction, for some reason I was starting to look forward to the next race.

Pros
I finished. That's about it. The shoes and the hydration vest were good too.

Cons
*Food. I still hadn't found a good solution there. My energy was yo-yoing because of the erratic intake.
*Again I started harder than I should have. Especially the first climb and the first descent.
*Training. Even though I had prepared more for this than the previous race, I should have done more long runs and a lot more hiking.
*Map reading. The clue is knowing when you have to get the map up and getting better at comparing the terrain with the map. It was in the end an easy enough mistake, even the eventual winner of the race did the same, but for me it was an almost fatal blow to my morale.
*Mentality. One could say that since I finished I showed tenacity, but I think I should have done better if I had whined less and pushed myself on at a few points where I just gave up and started to walk.
*Preparation. Lubing my butt cheeks. Jesus...


 



  





  

Marathon Fail

Now I really didn't have any other ambition about this Easter Monday marathon than doing it as a long training run. Until a coworker heard about it and challenged me to go under his 3:26 time. Even though I wanted to tell him I wouldn't try to go for a specific time I guess he expected me to crush it easily enough and would take my "training run" approach as either an excuse or a belittling brag or perhaps both. So I quietly agreed. And I think that ruined the race.

I was at a good weekly mileage at that point with 90% of my runs on lovely snow packed trails and had only just started up some shorter runs on the few bare spots of asphalt I could find. The race route was really just outside my doorstep and consisted of a 10k loop around the river on road and some icy gravel paths. I had managed 2 loops of it before getting bored and going home on a training run in the previous week.

I woke up not feeling motivated and not feeling great, in fact I had to go to the toilet three times in the morning. The weather was crisp as I decided for shorts, fleece sweater and gloves. Because of the icy parts I went for the trail shoes even though they really don't make that much of a difference. Ice is Ice.

I got to an ok start with the 143 other runners, being really careful of my previous idiot starts and decided to keep the pace around 5 min per km. My legs felt a bit stiff and my shin acted up again, though not as bad as in the Egersund half marathon. The icy parts were as terrible as I had feared, but other than that it was a beautiful sunny day. I noticed a lot of people enjoying themselves and I was behind a couple of guys doing the half marathon chatting away, apparently having a great time - that's when I realized I wasn't enjoying it at all. Just after 10k I had the first thoughts of quitting. I felt fine physically, but my mind wasn't into it.

The half marathon time was 1:42 which is only 5 minutes slower than my half marathon PB and my legs still felt good, but I had to push myself mentally to keep going. I had just recently heard a podcast interview of the legendary running guru and physician Dr. Tim Noaks and his advise on finishing the last half faster than the first, so I guess that was my strategy. I thought I could pick up the pace, but even though I felt like I was  increasing the speed my watch told me otherwise. It can be devastating to see that in spite of your increased effort you're actually slowing down. At 25k my legs stiffened up, my feet started to ache and my hips were screaming. To make matters worse I started to taste my own breakfeast and when my Garmin announced 30k I scrambled behind a parked car and vomited. The race was over. I didn't even consider roughing it one more lap and I guess this was the excuse I needed to head home for my warm bed.

All in all it was a miserable race, even as a training run it was a failure, and I really struggle to take out a lesson from it. Was it the surface? The shoes? The training? The diet? Motivation? Or all of them combined? I guess I really hadn't a clear goal or plan for the race apart from it being in my neighborhood. If I had taken it as a training run I shouldn't have had worried about finishing times and splits. I obviously didn't prepare for racing it as I had spent the weekend working a heavy hangover and really neglected road running the weeks before. No, I'll forget about this one and come back next year with a clear goal and sense of purpose. I want that sub-3:30 time, even if I hate looped courses like that.

Though I limped back home in pain my legs and my stomach recovered quickly and I was up and running a couple of days later. For what it is worth my recovery time has dropped considerably the last month.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/291702582

First race of the year

Egersund half marathon March 9, 2013
21.1km 1:37:18, new PB

Finally the start of this years race season. I thought a half marathon would be a nice way to check my fitness and since there are few bare roads in this part of the country I had to travel to the Oil Capitol Stavanger and meet up again with the Original Bar Runner Phil. Just the notion of flying out to do a race gave me rather childish sense of professionalism, which went away when I ordered a couple of beers at an airport bar.

The Bar Runner has landed

Phil and I drove down south in the scenic west coast landscape to Egersund, which is a lovely little town where we stopped for a coffee as we were very early for a change. Phil let on that he hadn't trained at all and was worried that he would come in last and I was very nervous and feared that running on bare asphalt would destroy me. I guess we were preparing excuses for failure, but I think being nervous before a race is a good thing, though I was more giddy now than I can remember ever being.

We were the only ones wearing shorts, but we compromised with wearing gloves which I wouldn't regret as it was cool and windy. After warming up and proffering more excuses we went to the start and did a White Man High Five before counting down for the start.

Real men don't wear tights

My goal for the race was a new PB(1:45) and I would be disappointed if I didn't break 1:40, Phil said he expected a 1:35 and I guess I secretly hoped to better that.

The race started suddenly and I went off very fast. Way too fast, as it turned out. From the school and out to the road I tried to get in a good position among the lead runners. I overtook a lot of people and were perhaps 10-15 runners behind the lead. After a kilometer there were two groups falling in line against the headwind in front of me, taking turns in front. I was just out of reach of the second group, never gaining and struggling to keep up. My shins flared up and felt really inflamed, after 3K the group distanced itself and I got caught by several runners. My paced dropped and I struggled so bad I considered for a few moments of dropping out. I looked at my watch and I was surprised that my average pace was just 5:00/km because I felt really slow.

After the aid station at 5K I had let a lot of people pass me and it got to me, I tried unsuccessfully to keep up with a line of runners as the wind took its toll, but I was still low on energy. A lone runner struggled to overtake me so I decided to hang on behind him. He kept a steady 5 minute pace and he kind of shielded me of the wind so I could recover. It didn't take long for me to feel the strength coming back and my shins felt better.

I had to be disciplined not to pick up the pace and break away, I thought staying behind him until the turning point at the halfway aid station would where I would run off was the best strategy, but I felt impatient and wanted to pick up the pace.

At the turning point I ran up alongside him, offering to pull him along, but he just gave me a thumbs up and so I took off without feeling guilty of cruising in his wake for the last few Ks. Not long after I heard someone catching up was surprised when an older guy screamed past me, I thought it was my previous windshield who was behind me. The old guy was my new target and I picked up the pace once again. I was overtaking a lot of runners on the way back and I saw that I was also gaining on the Old Guy. Now I was running as hard as I could. My laces came undone and my face was raw from wiping my face with my gloved hand.

In the last straight stretch into Egersund I overtook an attractive girl, but I ruined my chance of making a good impressions as I almost tripped on my own shoelaces. In the last K the road turned to the right and went under a railway and I finally caught the Old Guy, he was surprised and started to pick up the pace. In the last climb I went as hard as I could and was on the verge of blacking out when I crossed the finish line.

A volunteer offered me some bananas, but the thought of eating just made me want to vomit. I went to the car and got something to drink and rest and wait for Phil.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/282176253

Pros:
The finish was pretty good, I maintained a nice and steady pace from 10k and out. I think I recovered pretty well after the start and conserving energy behind the guy from 5k to 10k was an astute move.

Cons:
The Idiot Start. I never seem to learn. Instead of finding my own rhythm and pace I jockey for position and run on others. I really need to learn from that. I guess I could have shaved a few more minutes of the time if I had started easier.

In the end I got a new PB, but the start overshadowed the whole race for me, but it was soon forgotten as we had some beers and Jägermeister later that evening. Even though I really enjoy just the training runs in itself, it is also great to run with and compete with other people and see improvement. I don't train and run to compete, but it certainly helps bringing out the extra gear and effort.     

New Years Resolution

Now we write 20123 for the next few weeks and there's a natural point in time to end a season and start a new one. Of course, making a list of sorts is mainstream and boring, so I'll do just that, but I'll like to sum up The Bar Running Year of 2012. I guess a new years resolution should be ceremoniously announced for all to see and get ridiculed when I eventually fail it. As far as I know one is supposed to stand upright and state it will you have your eyes closed at the strike of midnight on new years eve. Unfortunately I was hardly upright and I were having my eyes shut at the time because of danger close fireworks. If I made a new years resolution I've forgotten it, so I guess a repeat of the last years one will do fine: To finish an Ultra.

Main Goal
That was of course my ultra debut, Nordmarka Ultra Challenge. Now I didn't finish, sadly, but as a foray into the unknown it taught me a few valuable lessons, most of which I've written about in the race report. Not everything is possible if you haven't prepared enough. In contrast to the half marathon and the full marathon debuts, were I also felt slightly unprepared training-wise, I manged to force myself through it with shear willpower. Before the NUC I had the same feeling, but assumed it was just the pre race nerves and that I would eventually pull through, though there is no way I can finish a race like that without better training.

Best Race
The Helteløpet in Telemark was a repeat of my first race there in that I really enjoyed it. The weather, the tactics(or the lack of it), the companionship and the beautiful scenery made it a special day. The trails were nice and run-able, and, apart from slicing up my heels and struggling in the last downhills it was as a good a run as I can do. I'm definitely doing it this year too.

Best Bar
Solli Bowling. Because I never go bowling and since it's great getting drunk on the company credit card. It was fun, at least the parts I remember, and the next day was like the film the Hang Over. I woke up in a train in a different county without my keys, jacket, mobile phone or memory of how I got on a train. The rest of the day was an epic effort to unravel the mysteries of the night before. There was a strip club, crashing a birthday party, getting off a buss to early in the middle of nowhere and probably trying to keep warm until the first train started in the morning. It was legendary and it was awkward the following Monday.

Watching The Big Lebowski before going out bowling and drinking
results in way too many film quotes and white russians.

Best Run
The Kongsberg-Drammen one, because it was somewhat spontaneous and it was just so full of impressions. I got the idea the night before and then decided that I would do it that morning before I took the train to Kongsberg. I remember it with a soundtrack even though I don't listen to music on my runs, but I guess an upbeat Sigur Ros song would fit. It was winter and I had a gorgeous red sunset behind me while I ran for the sparkling valley of Drammen. A cathartic running experience as one can have.  

Shoes of the Year
My trusty New Balance MT 101s, even though I bought the upgraded 110s, I won't throw these ones out yet. A remarkably light and minimal shoe, though with great grip and relative durability over the whole year. Yes, they took some beating, yes, they cut open my heels and yes, they slipped off my foot in almost every marsh or bog I splashed into, but they fit perfectly and were perfect as a transition to a more forefoot running stride. I ran at least a 1000 K in those shoes and hopefully I get to use them a little bit more this year.

What 2013 will bring
Unfortunately, the Normarka Ultra Challenge is cancelled for unknown reasons so I will not get my revenge, but I realize 2012 was the start and that this year will be the first full race year. I've learnt a lot from my trials and errors, this year I'll have to put my lessons to good use. As my friend and room mate said when I told him about my ambitions this year: "Dude, you didn't even finish one ultra last year and now you're signing up for three?" He didn't even take his eyes of the TV where he was killing for fun in BF3. I guess I didn't have good explanation, nor would he have heard it above the noise of the fire fight unfolding on screen, but his point was well taken.

When they eventually develop remote controlled robotic soldiers,
this is the guy to control them.

But then again you need that crazy optimism and insane persistence to keep putting yourself through all those hours of pain, sweat and exhaustion for an achievement that most other people I know would just shake their head disbelievingly at. So failing last year in what was truly an overly ambitious ultra debut I'm raising the stakes and will go for three this year. All or nothing.

"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result."
-Albert Einstein

He was obviously thinking about ultra runners.