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Showing posts with label adaptability. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adaptability. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 1, 2018

2018 Fat Sass Switchback Challenge - Six Hour




Tougher Than Hyner In a Lot of Ways


Slideshow of the Fat Sass Switchback Challenge. Photo credit for all photos used in the
slideshow and blog post goes to the wonderful volunteers that made this an amazingly fun event!  

The Fat Sass Switchback Challenge is a distance/timed event orchestrated by Sassquad Trail Running, a division of Core Total Training and Fitness LLC. The event in its inaugural year (2018) offered runners a 5k distance option or the choice of two timed event options of three or six hours. I opted for the six hour challenge. It was managed as a self-supported fat ass style race, so no entry fees, no aid, and no swag. Even without aid provided, there was a designated park table for runners to donate community aid to and it was about as good as any aid station I’ve passed through. The organizers did ask in place of an entry fee that runners bring non-perishable food items to donate to Livingston Neighbors Helping Neighbors, a nonprofit organization that assists Livingston residents struggling with unexpected hardships by providing short-term financial and in-kind support. I was happy to contribute to the cause and have the opportunity to run a race on some new trails.
The course is a trail loop just a little over a mile (roughly 1.05 miles according to my Garmin data) in
Near the end of the one mile loop.
distance. The elevation gain per loop is 274 feet according to my Garmin data and 313 feet according to my Strava data, so trust whichever data set you feel is more accurate. Runners take on the course in a clockwise direction starting at the Locust Grove picnic area of South Mountain Reservation in Millburn, NJ. The trail starts with a climb up about 5 switchbacks (hence the name of the event) of primarily smooth trail for about a half mile before reaching the top of the ascent. There is then a short stretch (less than a tenth of a mile) of flat paved road before making a right back onto the trails. From there it’s about a half mile descent down more technical, rocky trails before returning to the picnic area.
I registered for this race to use it as a long training run with a good amount of elevation gain ran at a faster pace than I’m willing to push myself to without any competition. It was also a matter of convenience; I was visiting my in-laws the weekend of the race and the park it was held at was only about an hour from their house. For all those reasons and no entry fee while donating to a good cause, I couldn’t resist. Having never visited the area where the race was, I wasn’t sure what to expect of the trails. I knew there would be some elevation gain because the description on the Ultrasignup page said that each lap had about 291 feet of gain. However, I never did the math to figure how much gain I would accumulate based on distance goals until the night before the race when I was telling a friend about it. I casually told him that I planned on running thirty some miles in the six hour period. Then I did an estimate of the math in my head:  30 laps X 300 feet = 9,000 feet of gain. Shocked, I redid the math using a calculator:  30 laps X 291 feet = 8,730 feet. At this point in the conversation, in near disbelief, I told my friend that that’s more gain than Hyner 50k and I likely wouldn’t be running as far as I had planned to in the six hours. Setting goals for timed events that are pretty much out of my reach seems to be a habit for me. I did the same thing when getting ready for the six hour Running with the Devil.
Thankful that I figured out how much tougher of a race this was going to be than I expected the night before rather than during the race, I tried to get some good rest before my early alarm went off. Unfortunately, a good night’s sleep was not to be had. This weekend was the night of the Fourth of July fireworks display so the kids got to bed late to begin with after that. Then one of the two woke up a couple times during the night and had trouble getting back to sleep. So, after a few hours of
A rocky, but not the rockiest descent.
broken sleep I got up, ate some breakfast (peanut butter sandwiches), and drove to the park. I got there early enough to get situated. I checked in, dropped off my charity food donation, added my community aid of
Swedish Fish and olives to the aid table, and got my personal aid station organized. Since this was a self-supported race I brought enough Gatorade and calories to get me through the entire six hours. Since I’m a bit frugal and I only had one gel on hand, all of my calories came from that single gel, three cans of Wal-Mart brand cola, and a tube of green cake frosting. I know, sounds gross, but it works and it’s not like gels really taste all that great anyway. Since it was at most a six hour race, my plan for fueling didn’t rely on any real food. I basically just wanted quick energy from simple carbs and some caffeine. The soda and frosting met all my needs.
After a few words from the RD, Kim Levinsky, the race began. Interestingly, and maybe it was just for the sake of simplicity, all runners (5k, 3 hour, and 6 hour) started simultaneously. I guess in this manner, a single clock could be used to time all three events simultaneously. Another interesting part of the organization of the race to me was the lap counting system that was used. At the completion of each lap timed event runners would record their place at the time on a chart that had all the runners’ names in that event listed. Similarly, 5k runners recorded their time rather than place at each lap. With this system, you always knew what place you were in and could get an idea of how far other runners were in front of and behind you. A volunteer was there to assist at all times as the board could get a little confusing especially after a few hours of running trail laps in the heat and your brain is getting a bit foggy.


The check in board used to record your place after every lap.
After considering the amount of gain I had in store for me and my readjusted goal of aiming for up to 30 laps rather than thirty-something laps, I went out at a pace that I thought would get me close to that goal. This meant running the entire climb during the first lap which wasn’t bad as it was not too technical and not too steep thanks to all the switchbacks. However, I knew full well that after a few laps I would certainly be hiking portions of the climb. I ran the flat paved section at the top at a medium effort then tried to let gravity do the work and stay light on my feet as I flew down the technical descent to complete my first lap in about 10:54. This was good enough to put me in first place at the time. I was able to maintain that pace and running the entire course for about the first four laps. After that, my times started to slow a bit as I started hiking portions of the climb. It was somewhere around the fourth lap check in that another runner I had been yo-yoing with got to the check in right ahead of me. It turns out he was another six hour runner who had been checking in as second just behind me for the first few laps. He was a bit confused when filling in his place at the board when he realized he was now in first. Which is another point that made the lap counting system interesting. It was hard to tell who you were racing against unless you happened to be at the lap check in with them. There were no markings on the bibs, so unless you asked you couldn’t tell who was a six hour or a three hour runner. Hence the reason for the other runner’s confusion when he got the lead.
I continued cranking out laps in second place for a couple more hours maintaining a pretty steady pace. The mental challenge of a timed event on a short loop was something I haven’t dealt with very often. I approached it the same way I approach a distance event:  break it up into manageable sections and then comfort yourself every time you reach one of those check points. For this event, I broke it down into two hour blocks. The first two hours seemed to go surprisingly fast. I told myself “that wasn’t so bad, just do that two more times!”. The middle two hours were the toughest mental struggle for all the normal reasons:  it got a bit warm, I was beginning to tire, and there was still a pretty long way to go. Once I got through that and into the final two hours, things began to turn around. I knew at this point it was time to push and see what’s left in the tank.


The view from a point midway up the switchbacks.
I don’t remember exactly where, but somewhere near the middle of the race I realized at check in that I had been passed by a six hour runner and was now in third. I had no idea who it was for the reasons I mentioned earlier. I continued in third place until there was a little over a half hour left. At this point if figured I would have enough time to finish my current lap and run two more before time ran out as long as I maintained my pace of around 13 to 14 minute laps. As I’m going over this and calculating the time in my head while finishing up the climb and reaching the paved section I caught sight of a few runners ahead of me. At this point I knew they had to be six hour runners, but I wasn’t sure if they were runners I was lapping or if one of them may be the second place runner. I didn’t catch them before the check point where I saw that I was still in third. Not knowing if I was taking over the second place position or not, I skipped stopping for aid this lap and decided to run this second to last lap as hard as I could. I figured if I did just take second place this would give me a bit of a gap ahead of him before he finds out at the next check in. If I was still in third, it would at least give me a chance to catch the second place runner wherever they were or I could at least say I gave it my all to try to catch them. Running my second to last lap as fast as one of my early laps I reached the check in to find out that I was in fact in second place. Knowing this motivated me to keep my pace up for my final lap and finish strong in second place with a total of 26 laps (about 27.2 miles).


The scene just before the start of the race.
The highlights for me during this race weren’t really about me or even specifically running. What I thought made this race great was the organization and volunteers that made it happen. There aren’t many trail races in NJ and even less trail ultramarathons. I’m so excited that Sassquad Trail Running has started organizing these events in NJ that are more convenient for me than driving to the middle of PA. During the race it was great seeing many of the volunteers taking time to run a few laps while they had downtime from their volunteer duties. During one of my laps, a volunteer took note of the Hyner socks I was wearing and commented about Hyner being tough and how this race compares. I replied with something along the lines of “This is tougher than Hyner in a lot of ways”. Strictly looking my Strava elevation gain data (8,142 feet for Fat Sass versus 7,507 feet for Hyner), the Fat Sass was tougher than Hyner. In a way, I feel that Hyner relieves a bit of the suffering experienced while running it with the beautiful scenery you enjoy along the way. Even with the arguably more technical terrain of the trails at Hyner, the grueling nature of repeating a one mile loop for six hours I still feel was more challenging than anything I experienced while running Hyner.
Scott Snell
July 31, 2018






Sunday, April 22, 2018

2018 Rat Race 20k

A Rat Race To Kick Off Easter Weekend



It has been a full two weeks since I ran the 2018 Rat Race now that I find myself sitting down to write this report. It is a shorter distance race:  a 20k that is made up of running two laps around a 10k trail loop. I decided to run it and register for it rather spontaneously as I was unaware of it until I saw an announcement that it had been rescheduled for a week after the originally planned date. I saw this announcement about a week and a half before the newly scheduled date. The timing of the newly scheduled date serendipitously worked out that on the morning of the race I would be driving right past Wells Mill County Park in Waretown, NJ where the race is held. I figured “why not run a 20k on my way to the in-laws’ house for Easter?”. I couldn’t come up with a good reason to say no to that. I thought racing a 20k on some new trails would be a great way for me to push myself harder on a mid-distance run than I normally do during a training run. The entry fee was pretty reasonable at $30 for day of registration. In addition to all this, I would get to explore some new trails that are only about a 40 minute drive for me from home.

This was a smaller race than most I’ve run, both in the number of runners and distance. Including all three distances offered (20k, 10K, and 5K) less than 70 runners showed up. This could be in part due to the race date being rescheduled. I’m not writing this as a positive or a negative, but simply reporting it. In many ways I prefer smaller events over ones with huge crowds:  parking isn’t an issue, day of registration is no problem, and they usually provide a better opportunity to chat and hang out with other runners at the finish. However, even for this race being a pretty small gathering in general, the crowd at the finish line seemed especially small. I would guess that in about an hour’s time from when I finished until after I ate a sub and some cheese balls before leaving, there were at most around 40 people including race volunteers/staff, runners, and spectators. My only explanation for the severe lack of a lively finishing celebration is that the majority of runners were running the 5k and 10k distances and most of them finished while nearly all of us running the 20k were in the midst of our second loop. I’m guessing that the majority of them finished their distance, got their fill of the subs, and headed out before any of us made it to the finish. Maybe I’m griping a bit here where I shouldn’t be, but found it mostly surprising and also a little disappointing that so few stuck around to cheer in the 20k finishers.


The scene at registration at a park in the New Jersey Pine Barrens.

I’m approaching this report a bit ass backwards, but I like to get complaints (however minor they may be) out of the way first. So let’s go back to my arrival at the park. Wells Mill County Park is just a few miles off the Garden State Parkway, making it barely out of my way as I traveled north on the parkway to visit my in-laws. Day of registration was painless and quick. I got my bib and awaited the start on a beautiful early spring day. I hung in with the lead group from the start of the race until about the first mile mark. We covered that at a 7 min/mile pace. At that point the group started picking up the pace a bit. My goal for the race was to run all 12 miles of it as hard as I could for the entirety of it without blowing up. With that plan in mind, I decided not to push too hard too early by chasing them. Without picking up my pace to keep up with the leaders, I was still able to keep the last runner of the pack in sight until about the 1.5 mile mark when the course cuts off of the fine, gravel maintenance road it had followed and hops onto some single track trail. From there the last of the lead pack was out of my sight.
Having never been at this park or seen any of the trails before, I really had no idea what to expect. All I knew for certain is that the course follows some trails that circumnavigate a lake. It turns out that the lake is much smaller than the trail network that we used to run around it. In fact, I don’t think the lake was actually visible through the trees until the last mile or so when the trail runs right along the edge of it. Even lacking lake views for the majority of the sixish mile loop, the trails were still pleasant and pretty fun to run. There were many more hills than I was expecting. There weren't an big climbs, this is still South Jersey after all, but many quick ups and downs which made the course interesting and forced me to stay focused.


The start/finish area.

During my first trip around the loop I was still catching glimpses of the last runner from the lead pack. After the first loop, the course hops back on to the straight gravel maintenance road that we ran in the beginning. This is the only section of the course where you can get a good look ahead for any amount of distance. Unfortunately, no runners were in sight ahead of me. I decided to try to crank up my effort for the second loop and see if I could catch anyone on the single track during the second loop. I was pushing and giving what felt like my maximum effort as I covered the miles and saw the familiar sights during the second loop. I developed a side stitch early on this loop and it continued for the majority of the lap. It was a bit surprising for me when I felt it because I usually don’t push to that exertion level during most races because most races I run are a much longer distance. During those races my goal is to only push as hard as I think I can maintain for the duration of 30, 50, or 100 miles which is never to the level of developing a side stitch. Nonetheless, I expect to incur a certain amount of pain and discomfort during any race so I did my best to bear it and continue to run through it.
 
 


When I hit the last mile or so of the loop, a stretch through a wetland area near the lake populated with Atlantic white cedars, and I hadn’t caught sight of any of the runners ahead of me I figured my chance of catching them before the finish was pretty slim. I was bit disappointed that I wasn’t able to catch any of them; I crossed the finish line in fifth place with a 1:40:33.2 finish time. Later after looking at the official results it was even more disappointing when I saw that I was only about a minute and a half behind the runner who finished just before me. It’s easy to second guess things in the moment, but it’s even easier (and probably unhealthy) to second guess decisions and question your effort after the fact. Being aware of this, it’s exactly what I did. Even in doing this, I know that I gave my best effort during the second half of the race and it wasn’t enough to do better than fifth on that day. Regardless of placement, a bit of disappointment, and the second guessing there were many positives I took from the race. I put in a hard 12 mile run. I got my first race of the year out of the way which I feel helps resolve some of the pre race nervousness in future races for the rest of the year. Lastly, I discovered some new trails with a few hills not too far from home for me to revisit. And I did it all en route to our family’s Easter weekend celebration.
 
 
Scott Snell

April 22, 2018





Monday, January 15, 2018

2018 Goals

“Discipline is the bridge between goals and accomplishment.”
--Jim Rohn



As I begin writing this post, I await the opening of the registration for the 2018 Eastern States 100. In just under three hours, barring a shutdown of runsignup due to a ridiculous amount of traffic, I will be registered to run the Eastern States 100 for the second consecutive year. And with that registration, I will also be registered to run the entire PA Triple Crown Series again for a second consecutive year. Finishing the PA Triple Crown Series was my top running goal last year. After finishing Eastern States, I immediately set a new goal to set a PR for the 100 mile distance at the Tesla Hertz 100 miler less than two months later. Since then, I’ve struggled with goal setting. With the new year and seeing so many other runners announce their 2018 schedules, I feel like I should have figured out what my plans and goals for 2018 were a long time ago. That wasn’t the case though. I registered for Worlds End 100k the day registration opened when I remembered how great of a course it was and thought about what I could do to improve my running of it. Just in the last week, I decided I will register for Eastern States 100 when it opens today. Doing the PA Triple Crown Series again wasn’t my goal for the year; I never made any running goals for 2018. But why fix what isn’t broken.



As uncreative and repetitive as it is, my 2018 running goal is to repeat the PA Triple Crown Series. Why not? I had a blast training for and running all three races. They challenged me in ways I had never been challenged before. I believe I could run at least two of the three races faster than I did. So like last year, my running goal for 2018 is to complete the PA Triple Crown Series, but to do it better than I did last year. But how do I measure that. I could measure it strictly looking at finishing times and places, but that has its limitations. Varying weather and trail conditions could play a large role in altering finishing times from one year to the next. Placement is an even more flawed measure in my opinion as it is so strongly determined by the pool of athletes competing each year. I’m not saying I won’t be comparing my finishing times from this year’s series to last year’s, but I will focus strongly on qualitative factors when measuring my success. Did I avoid those really low points when I bonked hard two-thirds of the way through Worlds End? Are my feet completely destroyed because I didn’t take the time to care for them at the aid stations of ES100?  Did I avoid making the same mistakes as I did last year? That is the main question I want to be able to say yes to at the finish of Eastern States 100.

Scott Snell
January 15, 2018

Sunday, December 3, 2017

2017 Batona 50

A Lesson In Adaptability





“One of the most remarkable of man's characteristics is his capacity for becoming used to conditions of almost any kind, whether good or bad, both in the self and in the environment, and once he has become used to such conditions they seem to him both right and natural. This capacity is a boon when it enables him to adapt himself to conditions which are desirable, but it may prove a great danger when the conditions are undesirable. When his sensory appreciation is untrustworthy, it is possible for him to become so familiar with seriously harmful conditions of misuse of himself that these malconditions will feel right and comfortable.”
-F. Matthias Alexander


I want to start this race report with a bit of a disclaimer before you get too invested in reading this write up. This is not a race report in the traditional sense. It is more of a report of my experience leading up to and completing the Batona 50 miler. If you are more interested in a traditional race report, check out my report from last year’s Batona 50. Otherwise, please read on.


This was my second consecutive year running the Batona 50 miler and for whatever reason, I was not as excited about running it as much this year as I was last year. There could be many reasons to explain this. Maybe it was because it was the last ultra of the year I was registered for, maybe it was because I already achieved all of my running goals for 2017, or maybe I was just feeling a bit burnt out on running in general after running two 100 milers in the three months leading up to the Batona. The last of these explanations is probably the best answer for my lack of enthusiasm. I had run Eastern States 100 in August and then ran the Tesla Hertz 100 miler in October. With little down time between the two 100 milers and even less time between Tesla Hertz and Batona, I had little time for recovery or training. This was my first method of sabotaging my day at the Batona:  setting myself up for failure by not allowing the time necessary for the physical and mental recuperation that is needed (for me anyway) after a 100 mile event. I’m no expert, but running 100 miles changes you a bit physically and mentally afterwards. The body needs to repair itself and the mind, I haven’t quite figured it out yet, but it seems to need to acclimate itself back to the real world. After maintaining the physical effort for such a long period and the intense mental focus during that extended time, I think some rest is probably the best thing for the mind and body.


I did my best to rest and recover, but I felt the need to pick up training again to prepare for the Batona 50. I was back to doing some short and medium distance training runs, but never felt really motivated. I was battling some plantar fasciitis issues which came and went making every run feel like a gamble. Then I came down with a nasty cold about the time I intended to get my one long run in before the Batona. What I had intended to be an easy paced 25 miler ended up being an 11 mile struggle. It was one of those runs where you don’t feel like going out to run for whatever reason, but you force yourself to thinking that once you’re out you’ll start to enjoy it. This usually works for me, but being more sick than I had thought I was messed that plan up. With my throbbing sinus headache and my runny nose I suffered through 11 miles before I called it and said that it just wasn’t worth it. Not getting a single long run in to prepare for Batona had a huge impact on my confidence going into the run. The two weeks leading up to the run I had created and repeatedly told myself the mantra “I have no business running a 50 miler”. So I guess that’s my second method of sabotaging my run, allowing a negative mental outlook to develop and then going even further and nurturing it with a mantra.


I hoped that my outlook would turn around as the race drew nearer and I became more excited for the opportunity to run, but it never happened. I went through my normal build up as the race date approached, checking the forecast and deciding how many layers to wear. The cold start predicted for the morning of the run didn’t help get me motivated. I enjoy some cool weather running, but a starting temperature in the low 20s with a high in the mid 30s is a little cooler than I prefer. Checking the forecast every couple days leading up to the run with little to no change led me to accept that this would certainly not be the most enjoyable 50 miler I’ve ever run and that I still had no business running a 50 miler at this time.


Race morning came early. I got dressed, grabbed my stuff, and was out the door. As soon as I stepped out the door the cold hit me and I decided I had under dressed. I ran back in and exchanged my outer layer long sleeve wick away shirt for my winter gear wick away long sleeve. Feeling good about that last minute decision I was enroute to the rendezvous parking lot near the finish of the race where everyone running the race carpools from to the start, 50 miles to the north. I followed my GPS which I had set the directions for the previous night until it led me to a dead end road, not the meeting location. It was at this point that I almost quit the run before ever starting it. I was now running late and not even sure if I would arrive in time to catch the carpool to the starting area. As ridiculous as it sounds, I actually thought to myself, “Well, at least I tried” and seriously was on the verge of just driving back home and going back to bed. I hurriedly gave it another effort to start the race and catch the shuttle. I arrived just before the 5 minute warning for departure was being announced. I quickly grabbed my stuff and was the last one to hop in the van.


Shortly after the van ride to the start, the run was underway and we were off on the trail. It was still dark and pretty chilly, but calm so the temperature wasn’t as bad as I had expected it to be. I had hoped that once I started running all the negative thoughts I had leading up to the run would fade away quickly as my sole focus on covering the distance took over. This began to happen early as my feet crunched noisily through the heavy layer of leaf debris. It wasn’t long until the first of two early mishaps occurred. The first being the fact that my Garmin watch wasn’t able to locate satellites at the start. No big deal, I would just start recording when it did pick up satellites. When it did, I hit the button and nothing. It was a minor annoyance, but one more thing that wasn’t going how I wanted it to. I messed with it for longer than I would like to admit, but to no avail. Eventually, it beeped and the bezel became locked. At that point I said heck with it, I’m just going to run. It was also somewhere around that point that the few other runners I was with realized that none of us had seen a trail blaze in a while. We went a bit further and concluded that we were definitely off course. We decided to turn around and retrace our steps about a mile before finding the missed turn that we had all run by. I don’t know if it’s “ha-ha” funny or “strange” funny, but if we had stayed on our inadvertent detour about another 100 yards from where we turned around we would have run right back into the trail. Regardless, we got a couple bonus miles in early.


Things started going smoothly after that. I used the mile markers along the trail to have an idea of how far I’d traveled and how far I had to go. I used my watch to have an idea of what kind of pace I was keeping and an approximate idea of how long between aid stations. I started to get into a groove as the miles and hours went by. It wasn’t until around the 30 mile mark that I had my last and final mishap. I was beginning to feel a bit tired and worn out at that point. I’d run pretty much solo all day so I decided I’d put my earbuds in for some music and maybe a little bit of an energy and mood booster. It turned out that there was a short in one of the wires causing the music to go in and out. It made the music more annoying than anything else. I messed with the wire for a little bit hoping I could situate it just right so it would stay on when it finally hit me. I had an epiphany of sorts at that point when I realized that all of the hardships I had experienced leading up to this point before and during the run were either self inflicted or intensified and blown out of proportion by my reaction to them. For example, my Garmin giving me trouble should have been a minor distraction that I accepted and moved on from, but I exasperated it by continuing to try to get it to work and giving it more attention than it really deserved. In turn, that reaction may have caused the entire missed turn and early detour mishap due to me being distracted from watching for trail blazes. This is just one example of how an overreaction to one minor mishap can spitball and cause additional problems to crop up if you allow it to.


For better or for worse, and I would argue for better, I decided to run a race that I had convinced myself I was not prepared for rather than take a DNS. Although it may not sound like it from this writing, I argue that running this race was an overall positive experience because of the strong lesson I was already aware of but had fiercely reinforced upon me. That lesson being how great of an effect and impact your mental outlook can have on how a run turns out. In a broader view, it’s not just a lesson in ultrarunning, but life in general. Often problems are only as big as we make them. Probably even more often, our reaction to problems causes them to intensify or cause other hardships. If a set of headphones not working ruins your race or your day in general it’s not the fault of your headphones, but your reaction to that problem. Many of the hardships faced while running an ultra and in life in general only have the power of impact that you allow them to have.


Scott Snell

November 30, 2017