The American River 50 Mile and Unexpected Findings

"It sure is nice to run on fresh legs," I mused, the river rushing at my right in the crisp morning air as I sped through the early miles of Saturday's American River 50 Mile. I was fully aware that I wouldn't be having such thought a few hours down the road, but as I run most of my training miles on legs with at least some degree of soreness, it was a treat to leisurely run down the flat bike path with legs so fresh I had to restrain myself from sprinting ahead. Running with me was Mark Tanaka, who, after it became light enough to see, informed me that the "leisurely" pace we were running at was about 6:50/mile. I hadn't anticipated this, but it was a good sign! We continued upstream as the sun began to rise.

(above right: shirt says, "the older we get, the faster we were!)

I came to AR with two intentions-firstly, to assess my current level of fitness after an intensive two months of training, and, secondly, to break my 50 mile PR of 6:56:39, set at Jed Smith in early February. Before me was a course with 29 miles of relatively flat bike path with a couple miles of minor singletrack detours and 21 miles of hilly and technical terrain. The results of both my objectives would become known-but in such a manner I didn't expect at all.

As the out-and-back course of the Helen Klein 50 Mile, the bike path was familiar to me. We shot through the initial aid stations in a quick but consistent pace per mile in the low 6:50's. A matter of weeks ago, the pace would have been fairly strenuous, but I was feeling relaxed as the miles melted away. Mark and I kept up a conversation and around mile 12 or so we caught up with a runner named Theirry who came all the way from Quebec to race! Our pace remained the same, and yet, even as miles 14, 16, 18 were completed I still felt hardly any different than I had at the start.

(Speedgrazing at mile 9)

Eventually, Theirry fell back. (He would later catch me again and go on to finish in under 7:30) Immediately before the mile 19 Nimbus Overlook aid station was the first minor detour from the bike path. The course took us on a formidably steep but relatively short climb up to the parking lot where Gu20, Coke, gummy bears, and potato chips awaited being put to use. But I recalled staggering up the same hill at mile 90 of RDL, and so it felt like a piece of cake in comparison. The same could not be said of the subsequent dowhill, as I'm not particularly talented at tearing down sharp declines. Mark put some distance on me there, but we then returned to the wonderful bike path and I caught back up. After their minor interruption, the 6:50's continued.

At about mile 22 the course detoured again onto mostly flat fireroads and singletrack for another 1.5 miles. Our pace predicatably slowed slightly, but Mark and I did unexpectedly catch up to Jean Pommier and two others. Two days previously, at the Homestead HS v. Cupertino mile race, Jean told his son Max, "if he [me] goes running into the night, don't follow him." (Har, har.) Jean sported his Brooks Inspire Daily singlet and was looking strong.
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I changed my shoes at mile 23.5 from road racing flats to trainers in preparation for the upcoming trails. In hindsight, this was an excellent decision, as my blistering was minimal but my early pace assisted by faster shoes. Mark took off ahead of me, and although I would keep the same fast pace for the remainder of the pavement, I didn't see him again. He would go on to break his course PR in an impressive time of 6:42:16.
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I passed the halfway point in 2:55 and the marathon mark in 3:04:30, the latter being a PR. I was astonished, not solely by the time but the fact that my body felt astronomically better than when I ran 3:09:43 at the Austin Marathon just seven weeks previously, on a similar course. I realized at that point the magnitude of my improvement. I had reached an entirely new level of capacity-and, somehow, the trajectory of this rate of improvement in the last few months was showing no signs of leveling out.
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To be sure, I was no longer completely fresh. But as I reached mile 29 and took a right turn onto the beginning of the trails, I felt far, far better than expected.

Then everything went horribly wrong.

Hills slow a runner down. But although I knew my pace would slow in the final 21 miles, the hills alone were not the culprit. I do much of my training on hills and have raced on them many, many times. As a general rule, I'm good at the uphills and not so great at the downhills. But I'm a terrible technical runner. So it was the rocks, not the hills, that ultimately brought about my demise. Sound familiar? The same was true of my disastrous race at the Bandera 100K last January. As I hopped over boulder after root after tiptoeing gingerly down the hill only to hop over the next *&@# rock, I watched a potential 40-45 minute PR-and then a PR-become inexorably frittered away in the span of only a few aid stations.

And then my legs tightened severely. Imagine a marathoner who has a great day and reaches, say, mile 15 way ahead of PR pace. Then he sits down for 5 minutes, gets up, and tries to continue at the same pace. It doesn't work. I'm not well-versed in physiological jargon, but essentially in those 5 minutes of sudden inactivity the leg muscles tighten and lactic acid is allowed to form. Because my rhythm had been so dramatically interrupted by the change in terrain, that's essentially how I felt at mile 35.

I won't say much about the last 15 miles-it would just be a lot of whining-other than they were possibly the toughest physically in any 50 mile and certainly the most hellacious mentally. I will say that the one cool thing about this part was running with James Bonnett (former teenage ultrarunner, became youngest to run Western States 100 Mile at age 18, holds Junior National Records in 24-hour and 48-hour, now age 21) for a few miles. I caught up to him around mile 34-he, too, was struggling with the change in terrain-and I must say that the man is truly a great example of good sportsmanship. He encouraged me, kept things positive, and even offered me a salt tablet despite not being asked for one. James would go ahead of me at mile 38 and eventually finish in just over 7:00. I would finally, finally cross the finish line in 7:47:17 in 40th/~450.

(Mark nabs a PR and finishes looking strong...)

(...I finish much later looking like I was hit by a truck)

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(Mark and I, with his son Peter-the 2032 AR50 winner!)

I know what you are thinking. "Oh, that's too bad, Michael started out too fast." Surely this can be the only explanation for a person that breaks their marathon PR but goes on to miss their 50 mile PR by almost an hour. But this was not the case. The failure to attain my goal was attributable entirely to the change of terrain in the last 21 miles for two reasons. (This is the part where I start rambling and you can skip to the end if you want.)
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1. My condition at mile 29. Never before had I run at such a pace for that distance and felt so comfortable. I had passed halfway on track for a 5:50. Would I have run such a time if the course had simply flipped a U-turn and the remainder had also been flat pavement? Probably not. Sub-6:00 would probably be a stretch as well. But I am convinced that a 6:10-6:20 would have been possible, if not probable. A huge PR would have been a guarantee, unless something had gone wrong. But I don't think that would have been in the cards. Like I said, I felt so good. I would compare my condition at mile 29 to that of mile 15-20 of Jed Smith.
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2. Pace per mile consistency. One of the major disparaties between Saturday's marathon PR and the Austin Marathon was the consistency of the time in which I completed each mile. At Austin, I passed mile 5.6 in an average of 6:30/mile, mile 15 in 6:50/mile, mile 20 7:05/mile and finished at 7:14/mile. On Saturday nearly every mile split was between 6:50-6:55/mile, and I passed the marathon mark in 7:02/mile. But even the few seconds per mile I did slow were not necessarily due to tiring; two contributing factors were the 2 miles of trail detours in the first half and the minute or so I spent at mile 23.5 changing shoes. It is one thing to have one's pace gradually slow, and another to tire slightly but keep a consistent pace. I don't think I would have slowed significantly in a final, flat 21 miles.

Anyways, I can't wait for the Helen Klein 50 Mile in November so I can back up these arguments with results. But I won't have to wait that long-my next race is the Ruth Anderson 100K in two weeks. I will be fully recovered and well tapered. It's a flat and paved 14-loop course around Lake Merced in San Francisco which I ran last year, and this year I plan on breaking the 100K Junior National Record of 10:55:14. In addition, I plan to race it like a 50 miler, hopefully nabbing a big PR, and then bringing it home for the remaining 12.2. And, thankfully, Mark will be there to discipline me when I try to tear through the first lap in 6:00/mile.

I'm by far in my best shape yet-of this I was convinced Saturday. Unfortunately those darn rocks caused this conviction and my race goals to become, alas, rather incongruous. But I will have no such excuse at Ruth Anderson. The course is far more conducive to aspirations of BHAG's and PR's-and I will break my personal best. Because I'm going to give everything I've got. It's gonna rock.

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(Edit, a couple 5,000 calorie days later): Somewhere between the roast beef sandwich and my John Steinbeck synthesis essay for American Literature I was looking this over and realized that I'm kind of a jerk in that while I was busy ruminating over my personal experiences I failed to acknowledge and thank the wonderful support of all the volunteers, RD Greg Soderlund, and my Dad, who crewed the race for me again and took all the photos. None of it would have been possible without the support of all the aforementioned people. Thanks everyone!

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Other Reports:

Jean Pommier

Anton Krupicka

Alan Geraldi

Rajeev Patel

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Photos:

Jean Pommier

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Results:

overall/age group