Run 200 Miles: Failed Attempts at 200 Miles

Kids at White Tanks

Sometimes when I fail, the kids win...

This weekend I intend to set a personal record for the 200 mile distance. If I don't, it will join the other 3 times I tried to make it that far in a race and came home with nothing to adorn my belt. The cutoff at Tom Bunk 200 is only 60 hours. Although I came close to that at Pigtails 200 this year, Ken Michal and I finished together with some extra minutes tacked onto the 60 hour mark.

With such a task before me, I reflect on what happened the 3 times I failed to make it to the 200 mile mark in a race. Hopefully I can learn from my mistakes.

The first time I tried to make it 200 miles was Across-the-Years 72-hour (2013/14). My whole family drove to Phoenix in a rented RV, but my wife (Tawnya) had to drive the whole way because I couldn't open my eyes without throwing up. A minor cold had left a viral infection on my vestibular nerve, causing an episode of vertigo that took about 2 months to heal.

In the days before the race, I couldn't move. I stayed in bed all day, muscles atrophying, eyes closed and unable to eat or drink. I got a little better each day. By the day before the race, I was finally able to walk around and went on a test jog with Tawnya and her sister Priscilla. So I made the decision to go for it.

Aunt Marti reaches to support me as I start to fall over

My first shoe change happened at mile 5. Something was wrong. Perhaps it was the fact that I couldn't run in a straight line. Second shoe change at mile 15. As I was changing my shoes a third time at mile 25, I realized it wasn't the shoes. I was simply too wobbly from the vertigo. I was getting blisters from constantly leaning back and forth.

We jumped back in the RV and went camping at White Tanks with the kids. They had a great time, except when that jumping cholla got Kevin. Yikes!

I did come back for day 3 of the event and made it to 100 miles to get the buckle, but it was ugly. I did something that night that I had never done before and hope to never do again. I still can't believe the human stomach can hold that much.

Solution: Don't get a virus. You might be tempted at some point, but resist it.

My second DNF almost happened at Across the Years 2014/15. At mile 170, I pulled a muscle in the lower right shin when I stepped in a hole while grabbing something out of the car at night. Suddenly I couldn't bend my foot up or down. It was cold, and snowed briefly at one point. I pulled my hoodie over my head so nobody could see me crying as I limped around the 1-mile loop. I wasn't going to quit. Not with only 30 miles left. Eventually I figured out a way to jog without really bending my right foot and made it to 200. Make that 207. I had to go a little farther than Geoffrey and Cory who had finished 1 and 2 days prior. Deano, I'm going after that 230 this year!

Razorback course option 1 is a 2-mile loop around
the flat field at the bottom of this photo.

Failure #2 happened at the end of February at Razorback, which is just half an hour from our home in San Jose. I had run a second 200 in January at Icarus Florida UltraFest Spring, which was all paved. ATY is not exactly paved, but the surface is very hard. After 400+ miles of hard surfaces in January, I developed an overuse injury called Sesamoiditis in my left foot. It feels like a bruise inside your big toe pad. But instead of resting, I kept training and even ran Sean O'Brien 100k on February 7.

The second course option at Razorback is to do a 6-mile
loop up in the hills, with tons of climbing and descending.
Here are my kids doing a course preview.

When it came time for Razorback 3 weeks later, I felt fine. Unfortunately, by mile 100 every step of my left foot felt horrible. At the time I didn't know what was wrong. I thought something was cutting off my circulation. Retrospectively, I should have skipped Sean O'Brien and should have powered through the pain anyway. But ... my wife was there in a warm cozy sleeping bag in a tent and once I joined her, it was over. They say "beware the chair". I say "beware cuddling up with your wife at mile 100 of a 200".

Solution: No wives or girlfriends (or husbands or boyfriends) allowed in cozy tents next to a loop course. Also, don't ignore Ed Ettinghausen when he tells you to skip the 100k and rest your darn foot. Third, it's going to hurt when you run 200 miles. Deal with it!

Failure #3 is the one that breaks my heart. I already signed up for Bigfoot 200 in 2016 to redeem myself. It hurt the most because it means I didn't get to finish the first "Grand Slam of 200s", as Race Director Candice Burt was calling it at the time.

I did everything wrong at Bigfoot. The time between Colorado 200 and Bigfoot 200 was less than 3 weeks, so I decided not to run at all between the two. Oh how I wish I had tested my gear after Colorado ...

Twenty-five miles in at Bigfoot, I started getting a heel blister. My shoes felt very tight. I had some other shoes in drop bags but they were even tighter. I had the blister popped, cleaned, and taped. But it was back at the next aid station, so I had to do it all again. Every aid station was the same story. No shoes fit and the blister kept coming back. One solitary blister was ruining my weekend. Despite that, I still had fun getting lost in some brush with Tina Ure, as shown in this video:

https://goo.gl/photos/vmmZVjLEjGv3s64ZA

Somewhere around mile 70 or 80, I did something incredibly stupid. I got a scissor and cut the blister wide open. I clipped away all the dead skin and smiled. How could the accursed thing come back again after that? Ha!

Joel Gat and Mika Thewes witnessed my mental collapse firsthand.

That day I learned that if you keep doing the same thing, the blister will come back. The delicate pink skin under the original blister bubbled up to become a much more painful blister.

Approaching mile 100 during the long night, I entered a loop of negative thoughts. I just couldn't figure out a way to go another 100 miles when every single step felt like a red hot knife jabbing my heel.

By mile 100, I had lost the game mentally. I had been trying to prevent my right heel from toughing the ground for an entire day, and could feel the imbalance in my leg muscles and joints. It was too late. I still wish I had just gone for it anyway. It's just pain and bloody socks, right?

I dropped at mile 100.

This amazing view made the trip worthwhile despite the DNF.

Solution: Take care of your feet. Get rid of those huge calluses. Don't assume the gear you wore in the last race is going to be in the same condition at the next one, especially if your shoes have been through multiple cycles of wet and dry.

Here's me after Bigfoot:

http://www.amazon.com/Fixing-Your-Feet-Prevention-Treatments/dp/0899976387/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1446746620&sr=8-1&keywords=fixing+your+feet

1 comment:

notthatlucasNovember 5, 2015 at 7:32 PM
I love this! Well, not the DNFs, but the lessons and experiences. 60 hours is going to be tough, but as long as no big surprises get thrown at you (a surprise blizzard, mismatched gaiters), you are more than up to this. Thanks for putting this together (although it sort of sets our expectations pretty high for the post race report to come).