The Flat Life

My usual training involves heaps and gobs of climbing. This fall has been starkly different. Recovery went well post-UTMB, so I enacted my “maybe this is a dumb idea but the UTMB-then-Javelina-double sounds awesome” plan. I was so fascinated at what it would be like to mold mountain legs into flat, fast, desert 100 miler legs. So here we are!

The switch from mountain running (aka power hiking with poles) to flatter trail and road running proved to be a strikingly enjoyable and effective training stimulus. My easy run pace rapidly got faster as my body adjusted to moving on flat ground. Doing workouts mostly on flat ground was a fascinating and novel task that I quite enjoyed. My heart is in the mountains, but making my brain and body figure out this new task was an absolute blast!  

I really enjoyed mixing it up from training almost all on Mt. Sentinel to exploring some local dirt roads and flatter routes. I’d practically forgotten they were there. I essentially became a gravel biker but without a bike. I also had a few weeks of travel this fall, and training for a flatter race worked very well given the topographic restraints I would have.

The biggest change I noticed was the huge drop in training time. My biggest week in this short build was 122 miles in 14:48. That is a massive difference from 120-mile weeks in 24 hours. There may be 30-35,000 feet “missing” in the training I just did, but it is fun to see how I can truly feel that difference, mostly mentally. Ten fewer hours of running a week makes it feel like I am hardly training. For instance, I’ve had time to embark on several ill-fated but enjoyable home improvement projects. I am well aware that the 14-15 hour weeks I am doing now are still quite large and are still considered higher volume training. But I just absolutely love massive weeks in the mountains, and it is remarkable to me to have a 120-mile week feel “short”. I am so appreciative of the big weeks I did this summer. Not only because they were an absolute joy, but because of the mental strength they provided me. Reflecting on this, that is a hidden benefit of the big volume. Never did I think it would be easy to wrap my head around a 120 mile as something “casually” attainable. Fun to look back at how my perception has changed over the last decade of training. I wouldn’t recommend what I do to most, but golly do I find it to be a blast.

Really looking forward to racing Javelina in just a few days! If I remember correctly, I haven’t run a “flat” ultra since Way Too Cool 50k in 2019. I am so excited about the challenge of a totally new type of 100 miler. I guess we’ll find out how I like running lap courses, too :P

Madeira Island Ultra Trail (MIUT) 115k

The race start in Porto Moniz was electric. The clock approached midnight and the music was bumping, crowds lined the streets, and 1,000 nervous runners were piled up in the starting corral. Seems every race nowadays starts off quick, especially these European races with the opening miles on roads. A large group of us in the front made quick work of the first 1,000’ climb and descent. I had the pleasure of chatting with Rich Lockwood and Ben Dhiman before the front pack began to spread out. On the second climb, about 4,000’, Ben and I soon found ourselves leading the race. It was great chatting with him. Occasionally I ran alone off the front, sometimes it was Ben. My teammate Arthur Joyeux-Bouillon was right behind us. At the first aid, Fanal (mile 9), we all came through together. Madison stopped by to cheer and I shouted “love you!” into the darkness. 

I felt very relaxed in these opening miles. Pressing harder than was sustainable, but not feeling like I was overreaching very much. I continually found myself smiling into the light of my headlamp. I was simply having a delightful time. After Fanal, Arthur, Ben, and I ran together into the first descent. It was steep, wet, and slippery (what would be a common theme for the day). By the bottom of that 3,000’ descent, There were six of us (I think) running within a minute of each other. Then we began to climb.

Another 4,000’ climb. I settled in and enjoyed the steep climb learning every imaginable type of staircase that can exist. Ben, Miguel, and some others were just ahead of me. Arthur climbed a minute or so behind me. I felt very relaxed and didn’t worry about catching the group ahead of me. They were under a minute from me, and soon enough we were a train of four. We all swapped leads, and eventually I was in the front as the climb mellowed on the plateau to the mile 20 aid, Estanquinhos. At some point Ben and Miguel got in front of me and led the way into the aid station with a few minutes until me. I took my time there, swapping headlamp batteries and enjoying a brief moment with Madison. At this point it had been rainy for a while and dense fog crept in.

The next descent was a steep, rough dirt-road plunge into fog. My raincoat went on as the temps dropped and visibility seemingly disappeared. The fog was so dense you could barely make out the trail 10 feet in front of you, which made moving quickly quite challenging. I saw this as a benefit, as I didn’t want to hammer any downhills yet. The descent only got steeper and wetter as the rain came down quite hard. By the time I saw Madison at Encumeada (mile 30), I was feeling just ok (a bit of brain fog) and two other runners had caught me. Still, I was only 10 minutes from Ben and Miguel and was not worried. My body felt good. 

It wasn’t long before I started to get worried. I couldn’t catch up with the two in front of me once they passed me. I just felt…weird. I had been fueling at around 100g of carbs/hour (400cal/hr) up to this point with what felt like great hydration. And now I started to feel quite nauseous. I remained nauseous for the next 5 hours or so. My fueling slowed to a trickle, taking gels when I could but not nearly enough. My guess is I was eating 100-150 calories/hour, maybe less. The sun rose and I descended to the aid at mile 39, Curral das Freiras, where I would see Madison. I felt like trash. I descended SO SLOWLY. My quads were starting to feel fried. When I saw Madison, she later told me I looked ghost white. I was 10 minutes behind the two in front of me, and maybe 20-30 min off the lead. I was still in it. But I felt awful. 

I did what I could on the 4,000’ climb up to the course high point, Pico Ruivo. After maybe only 1,000’ of climbing, Anthony Costa passed me. I swear he was bouncing up the mountain and I was crawling. I felt horrific. I dragged myself, mind woozy, still nauseous, to the aid station at Casa do Pico Ruivo (mile 46).  I had climbed about 20,000’ by this point in the race. At that aid station, I had a sip of coke and felt instantly better. I ate a Naak bar and it sat great. I left with a bottle full of coke feeling fantastic. Well, mentally fantastic. My quads were still cooked.

How did that happen? I went from feeling absolutely horrible to feeling great. For the remainder of the race, I fueled at probably 80g carbs/hour, maybe more. I was right back on. When I finished the race, Madison pointed out that I may have been motion sick. My family gets terrible motion sickness, and I have had to stop skiing, stop surfing, and stop whitewater kayaking at times because it is so terrible. In hindsight, I think I was severely motion sick for about five hours during this race. Thinking back to other races, when the visibility is good and I am not under headlamp, I don’t have “stomach” problems. These only arise when at night or in the fog (and especially both). This is a thrilling revelation and explains many of the issues I had had in past races.

Anyway, I started pushing hard and told myself “hey you’re good just kick for the next 20 miles, it’s all downhill”. I tried that for a bit, but I became acutely aware of the sensation that my quads were being ripped off my femurs and split into thin strands. I love ultrarunning. I saw Madison at Chao da Lagoa (mile 52) and said I finally felt better, but I felt horrible. Mind good, body not so good. I figured I’d start kicking from 20 miles out and see if things turned around. I did not want to go down without a fight.

I ran as hard as I could down to Porto da Cruz (mile 63), but managed to drop back some 40 minutes from the person in front of me. It was bad. I was passed in the final aid station and tried so hard to catch back up, but my legs had nothing. So I ran in 6th, desperate not to slip any further back in the field. Only when I was two miles from the finish did my legs find another gear. I looked back to see someone charging towards me, and my body went nuts. I gave it everything I had and was soon running 6 min pace (granted it was downhill) and hammering with everything in me. I held off MIUT veteran Luis Fernandez by a mere 15 seconds. My god did he make that one hurt a bit extra. Crossing the line and collapsing in the shade felt so, so good.

This island is magnificent. Traversing it was absolutely spectacular. The race organization was amazing, the volunteers incredible, and the whole energy of the race just rocked. The love of everyone involved in this race for the race was palpable. They’ve created something really special here. Thank you so much to everyone involved! And a HUGE thank you to Madison for crewing me all night long on her birthday. You are the best!! I have a feeling I might be back here.