50 on 50: My Urban Ultra

The idea came to me, as many crazy ideas do, during a long run.  It was a Sunday in February and I was cruising along at the back of a pack on one of the Runners Roost Aurora store’s group runs.  “I should do something big for my 50^th birthday,” I thought.  Running 50 miles leapt into my mind.  And so was born the 50 on 50: My Urban Ultra - a self-supported run to celebrate my birthday.

The Route:

My first idea was to run an out-and-back route along the Highline Canal Path.  The dirt trail would be less taxing on my joints than running on roads.  There would be few places where I would cross traffic and it would be mostly shaded.  The drawback is there would be no places to refuel, unless I dropped food, or had someone waiting for me at various intervals.

I wanted to avoid traffic and opted for this route which allowed me to run over half of the miles on trails.  There would also be several places to stop for food along the way.

From my home –

Northwest along the Sand Creek

North on Broadway to Lee Gulch trail

Lee Gulch trail west to Platte River

North on Platte River trail to Bear Creek trail

West on Bear Creek trail to Wadsworth

North on Wadsworth to the Lakewood Runners Roost store at Alameda

Alameda east to the Platte River trail

Platte River trail south to Mississippi

Mississippi east to Buchtel

Buchtel south east to St. Paul

St. Paul north to Mexico

Mexico east to the Denver Runners Roost store at Colorado

East on various streets to the Cherry Creek trail at Iliff

Followed the Cherry Creek trail through Kennedy Golf course and into Cherry Creek State Park

Exited the park at Quincy

Parker Road south to the Aurora Runners roost store

Arapahoe west to Potomac

Potomac south to County Line Road

County Line Road west to Peoria

Peoria south to Lincoln

Why the route past the Runners Roost stores?

The short answer is because that route came the closest to 50 miles.  The long answer is complicated.  I was looking at a map of Denver and guestimated that the distance from my home to the Lakewood, Denver, Aurora and Lone Tree stores was about 50 miles.  I wanted to finish the run with my regular Thursday night Lone Tree Runners Roost group.

On a serious note; my father died last August.  It was on a Thursday.  My co-workers were the first to know as my sister called my office with the news.  I went to where Mary was because I needed comforting.  Then I went home to be with my daughters because I needed to remind myself what it meant to be a father.  Then, because it was Thursday, I went to the Runners Roost because I needed to run with my friends. 

I wore the Altra Instinct 2.0 (shown here with my Guerrilla Tag).

What did I eat?

Pre-run:

1 ½ cups brown rice

            1 cup Almond Milk

            1 banana

At miles 15, 20 and 30:

            Bagel

2 tablespoons peanut butter

Banana

At miles 39 and 42:

            Cliff Bars (special thanks to Jill at the Aurora Runner’s Roost)

Throughout the run:

            1 packet of Vitargo

            4 pints of Red-flavored Gatorade

            1 very sweet tea at mile 30

As I compared the calories expended relative to calories consumed, I realized that I was running a large caloric deficit.  By the end of the run I was in ketosis and really wasn’t hungry and, quite frankly, nothing sounded that good to eat – except cake! 

The worst parts of the run were the stretch along Alameda and ten minutes around noon.  I stopped for almost ten minutes waiting for lights to change on Alameda.  That is where I met this dude.

Actual conversation:

Dude – “How many miles?”

Me – “About 25, on my way to 50.”

Dude – “I ran two marathons once.”

Me – “Well, get back at it.”

The other low point was when I was on the east side of Cherry Creek State Park at mile 39.  I was feeling tired and there was a pebble in my shoe.  I sat on a bench in the shade of the only tree within several hundred yards.  I responded to a text from Mary and looked at the time – 11:53.  A man walked by and I looked at the time again – 12:03.  Ten minutes vanished like my will-power at an all-you-can-eat dessert buffet.  The man was now a speck well away from me.  I had enough of my wits to know that I was getting close to the danger zone and needed sugar.  I exited the park and stopped at a Conoco where I guzzled a sweet tea and ate a Cliff Bar.

So, why did I do it?

Because I fear death.  Many guys when they hit mid-life, buy a sports car – typically red – and drive it like a matador taunting a bull, thinking they can out-race death.  There is some small part of me that thinks I can out-run death.

This was also an inner-quest.  I tried to equate miles to years in my life and recall where I was at each milestone.  That was cathartic.  The miles and years just flew by.  I got time to think about what is important to me and what I want to accomplish in the time I have left.  I have assembled a rough ‘bucket list’ and am looking forward to checking items off the list.  As a kid I wanted things because I thought that having things would make me happy.  As my body turns into an old man I want experiences, and friends to share them with.

Would I do it again?  Absolutely!

What would I do differently?

I would have taken more photos.  I would have stopped at the Conoco near Kennedy Golf course.  Most importantly, I would have coerced some people to run with me.  Next year my birthday falls on a Thursday.  Please run with me.

I’m not sure if this is a hint, but my wife bought me a set of golf clubs for my birthday. 

Old Guy Epic

Was it all a dream or was I really being chased by David Rothenburger? 

It has been said that dreams about being chased represent your way of coping with fears in your waking life.  Instead of confronting your problems, you are running away from them and avoiding them.  Your own feelings of anger, jealousy or fear can assume the appearance of the threatening figure.  You may be projecting these feelings onto the chaser.  The next time you have a chase dream, turn around and confront your pursuer.  Ask them why they are chasing you. 

That is exactly what I was thinking when I looked behind me at the 26 mile mark of last week’s Colfax Marathon.  “David, just let me coast across the finish line,” I thought. 

The day got off to an inauspicious start.  My bag fell into the porta-potty; plop, right in a pile of you know what.  Maybe it was an omen.

Usually there are two forms races take.  Runners hold different paces and gradually drift apart or one runner flies and dies and is summarily passed by other runners.  My race against David was a classic back and forth battle as evidenced by our times at the checkpoints.

First	Last	6.4 Mile Split	10.1 Mile Split	16.1 Mile Split	20.1 Mile Split	TIME
CARL	MATHER	44:06:00	1:09:31	1:50:37	2:19:15	3:06:37
DAVID	ROTHENBURGER	43:34:00	1:08:58	1:50:46	2:18:56	3:06:45

My Garmin lost its satellite connections at the ½ marathon mark, which was a little ironic as that is about when I lost interest in the race.  But as the course made the left turn onto 20^th Street, I spotted David’s white singlet and unmistakable gate.  Slowly I drew closer to him, eventually passing him at mile 15.  Hoping to gain time on the downhill, I tried to press the pace, but my legs didn’t respond. 

David passed me at mile 18 and quickly had a large lead.  By the time I entered Mile High Stadium, David was through the other side.  I caught David at mile 22 and we ran together for a bit.  Mike Quispe joined us and gave us encouragement.  I was in no mood to talk, but Mike’s presence was comforting. 

Either Mike’s voice drifted back or my mind drifted, but I soon realized I was alone.  During the latter stages of a marathon the mind can go into some crazy dark places.  I turned around at mile 24 and didn’t see David. 

I got a side-stitch.  Hunched over pinching my side, I hobbled along for the next two miles.  Then, just after the 26 mile mark drifted below my feet, I turned around and there was David, showing up like a bad penny.  I did a ‘Feet don’t fail me now’ and held on to finish eight seconds ahead of David. 

It took everything I had in me to hold David off.  The proof is that my legs gave out just after I crossed the finish line.  Luckily, a volunteer was there to catch me before I collapsed.  I put my hands on my knees and told her I was fine.  I took two steps and my legs gave out again.  “Get a wheelchair!” she shouted.  “I don’t need that,” I said.  “Just help me walk a little.”  She did and I was OK in a few seconds. 

Rivalries exist, even in the Masters division, and David and I have had our share of battles.  Ernest has Julio; Ben has Jerry; Peanut Butter has Jelly; so we have each other. 

Thrilled Beyond Belief

What a difference a year makes.

Last year at 20 mile mark of the Colfax Marathon, as I ticked off another 6:25 mile on the downhill section of the course, my self-talk went something like this:  “You are running better than you ever have.  Finish strong!”  That, and the fear of being passed by the first female, Nicole Chyr, propelled me to a 2:56:45 PR and 1^st Masters finisher. 

This year at that same point I told myself  “Just hang on.”  And somehow I did.  I was very fortunate to defend my Masters’ title with a time of 3:06:37, out-sprinting my dear friend David Rothenburger by eight seconds. 

But this is not a story about personal performances.  This is a story about being connected and how lucky we are to be able to share an experience like the Colfax Marathon.

It was a beautiful day; sunny and cool until about 8:30, barely a cloud in the sky and the faintest of breezes.  Urban marathons are so special because they take you on a tour of the city.  Creigh Kelley and his team at BKB Limited put on a great race.  The logistics were flawless. 

Scott Dailey, my good friend and training partner, was standing next to me at the start.  I was wearing my red Runners Roost Race Team singlet and lost count of how many people gave me a “Go Runners Roost” cheer.  And there was Bret Stevens who ran beside me at the highest point on the course (in The Glens) and again somewhere along Colfax.  My old friend, Pat "Average Joe" Sullivan, was the overall winner in 2:40. 

The Rocky Mountain Road Runners and the Runners Roost Lakewood (aka Belmar Running Club) set up tents in the run club village.  I enjoyed the camaraderie of Jeff Wong, Ken Shimada, Deb Cunningham, and many others. 

The highlight of the race came at the lowest point for me.  At mile 23 Mike Quispe jogged beside David and me, giving us encouragement.  Melody Drummond White posted a sweet note on Facebook “There are some days that just aren't your day and you just want to quit...thanks to my teammate Josephine for not allowing me to get my first DNF!!! I cannot thank this wonderful lady enough!!!! She is my inspiration!!”  I was so close to stopping, but Mike helped me to keep running. 

There was some drama in the waning miles.  I developed a side-stitch (I never get stitches) and ran the last two miles hunched over pinching my stomach.  It must have been a ludicrous site; wish I had a photo. 

I am so lucky to have so many friends in the running community. 

Boston Billy’s Advice

This year’s Boston Marathon is a week away and I know several people who are running the race, my old high school friend Patrick McGahan and my current training buddies David Rothenberger and Mike Quispe; to name a few.  With everything that happened last year and the preparations for this year, this year’s event should be epic. 

The 2014 edition of Boston will be held on Monday, the 21^st, the day after Easter.  The year I ran it, 2006, it was also the day after Easter.  I recall that event so clearly.  It is one of my most cherished running memories. 

The race expo, where athletes had to go to get their bibs, was held at the John B. Hynes Convention Center.  As a first time entrant, I wanted to get the full flavor of the event, so I spent a lot of time at the expo.  I met three marathon greats that day: Steve Jones, Frank Shorter and Bill Rodgers.  Jonesy gave me a nod and a perplexed look as he autographed a poster.  When I told Shorter that I was from Colorado, he said “Oh, good.  Have a great race.” 

The highlight for me was meeting Bill Rodgers.  The 45 minutes I waited to meet Boston Billy gave me ample time to rehearse my greeting.  “You’re the reason I got into running,” I blurted.  His response, “Is this your first Boston?”  “Yes.” I replied.

Sizing me up, he imparted some great advice and I’ll share it with you now.  “Take it easy, easy, easy,” he said as he held both hands spread out like he was dribbling two basketballs.  “You’re not going to run a personal best.  Take it easy.  Enjoy it.  And when you get to the hills, you’ll pass hundreds.”  He added another “hundreds” for emphasis. 

As I rode the T back to where I was staying, the word “hundreds” tumbled through my mind.  What did he mean?  Really, did he mean hundreds literally or figuratively?  Whatever, I would soon find out. 

Monday morning I climbed aboard a bus at the Boston Common and made that long ride out to Hopkinton.  Because I got an early bus, I was able to stake a patch of sod under one of the tents…and waited…for hours…until we were roused and marched to the starting corals. 

When we were finally released, I heeded Rodgers advice and took it easy.  Boston veterans know how difficult it is to run the early miles slowly.  The course descends unabated for four miles.  When the course makes the right turn onto Commonwealth Ave. the hills start abruptly.  I did indeed pass hundreds of runners just as Rodgers prophesied.  It seemed I overtook a runner every second. 

There was one runner I remember passing just before Kenmore Square.  He was an elite runner, as indicated by the two digit number he wore, and he was limping.  Clearly, he was injured.  Why didn’t he abandon the race?  Why?  Because it is the Boston Marathon and he owed it to himself, to tradition and to everyone who has ever run the race, to finish.

Way To Go Ohio

The great state of Ohio has sent more men to the White House than any other.  Eight of the forty-four US Presidents hail from the Buckeye state.  Columbus, the capitol, sits about in the middle of the state in the Central Lowland area. 

Last week I visited Kenyon College and Denison College with my wife and daughter.  Due to a peculiar combination of circumstances, those two colleges have the best Division III swimming programs and are located about an hour apart, just east of Columbus.  The NCAA Division III Swimming Championships were being contested that weekend in Indianapolis. 

Saturday we visited Kenyon College which is located in Gambier.  The nearest city of any significance is Mount Vernon – about five miles away.  I love running when I travel.  We had a full day, so my run started well before dawn. 

My Garmin quickly found a satellite and I was on my way.  In the darkness I felt the road rise – felt the hill.  Then the road leveled off for about three miles.  Then the terrain gave way and I descended for a mile into Gambier.  You can see a lot of a campus by running around it and I toured Kenyon College at about 8 minutes per mile.

On the return trip the sun began to rise – somewhere - below the bare deciduous tree line.  The sky became less dark - but not really bright – by degrees.  The scenery did not become more colorful.  The ROI for a photo-voltaic system is about 100 years here.  I saw the hill that leads out of Gambier.  It was longer going up than I remembered coming down.   

This time of year the Ohio landscape is bleak.  It seemed like there was more color in the darkness.  My headlamp illuminated the road kill – the white cat with its gut split open – wasn’t there on the outward leg of my run.  It was a redneck smorgasbord – raccoon, squirrel, cat and rabbit. 

Then there were open fields of closely shorn corn stalks.  In five months this year’s crop will be 12 feet tall.  Then there were houses; first farms on several acres, then a small cluster, then the Ohio Eastern Star Health Care Center.  Then there was the mile long descent into Mount Vernon.  In all a 12 mile round trip; before 6:30 am. 

________________________________________________________

Sunday was the first of three Rocky Mountain Road Runners Spring Marathon training races.  I ran the 10 mile option in 1:04:46 – about 6:28 / mile, well off the time I ran it in last year. 

I am 800 % done with winter.  The heavy wet snow that fell this Thursday morning interrupted my planned run.  I am hoping that is the last of the snow for the year.

That Ship Has Sailed

With greater frequency I am forced to add another item to the list of physical activities I can no longer do.  Swimming 100 yards under a minute, running a mile under five minutes and dunking a basketball come to mind.  There is an even longer list of things I could do, but choose not to due to modesty, decency or because they are just plain stupid.

One such item came to mind as I was doing a Google search for “the running of the green in Denver”.  Somehow I ended up in a small town in the Basque region of Spain. 

Google feeds my short attention span.  Like chasing rabbits, I start down one train of thought and end up in some chat room and I’ve forgotten what I was looking for to begin with.  I was trying to determine a good place to park downtown; a spot close enough for me to gimp back after the race, but not too close so I could avoid traffic.  Given those parameters, I found the perfect spot on Lawrence and 17^th Street. 

I started typing “running of the’ and Google thoughtfully gave me the option of “Running of the Bulls”.  The most infamous “Running of the Bulls” occurs in Pamplona, Spain and is an annual ritual which involves many cervezas and the risk of death.  Just the things I was into – when I was 22.  Now, as I stand at the threshold and peer into the abyss of my 50s, running a 7 kilometer race in Downtown Denver is about as dangerous an activity as I can handle.  

What took me down that rabbit hole was the recollection that two guys I used to pal around with actually survived The Running of the Bulls in Pamplona.  There is a bit of alright and I remind them of my unqualified awe at that accomplishment.  I can say with certainty that they ran faster with the bulls than I did at today’s Running of the Green.  They had to.  Their lives depended on it.  

For the record, I finished the 7 kilometer course in 26:16 (~6:03 / mile) - 52^nd overall – 6^th in my age group.  It was great to see so many red singlets from my fellow mates on the Runners Roost Race Team in front of me.  The weather was perfect for the 26^th Running of the Green.  While the temperature was 26 degrees when I awoke, by race time it had risen to about 50 degrees.  There was barely a whisper of a wind.  There is something really cool about racing through city streets.  

Rounding

The struggle bus makes many stops in my neighborhood; all of them self-induced and emotional in nature.  I recognize the source of my internal conflict.  Maybe my capacity to embrace dissidence has atrophied as I’ve gotten older, but I like symmetry. 

From the visual appeal of Greek architecture.

 

To the recurring motifs of Bach’s Two Part Inventions.

 

To the predictability of the Pythagorean Theorem.

I’m the same way with mileage and yardage.  There is something unsettling about finishing a run at some fraction of a mile, or adding up the yardage from a swim workout only to find out I’ve swum 4,950 yards.  It just feels unresolved, like a hanging chad.

As I’ve noted before, distances are arbitrary.  Between miles, kilometers and time surely I could find some metric that would be whole.  I drive myself crazy being yard wise and hour foolish.  It is good to remind myself of the core reasons I stomp by woods on snowy mornings. 

Garmin brings out the OCD in all of us.  Here’s a simple question – If you complete a run at, say, 7.89 miles, do you call it ‘good’ or do you run around in circles to square it up to 8 miles?  Or, if you run, say, 8.11 miles on Tuesday, do you add that .11 mile onto your next run?  Am I the only one who thinks like this?  Do I need to check into a small, padded room? 

There is also some noise.  A few years ago after running the Boulder Backroads Marathon, four finishers were comparing mileage from our Garmins.  There was a .4 mile spread.  That’s a 1.5 % difference – a catastrophe if we were attempting a lunar landing, but a rounding error if we worked for Enron.  A training log isn’t like a check book.  Mileage doesn’t need to be balanced. 

 

Some tension is good. 

Bach wrote the book on resolving the dominant 7^th chord. 

There is something comforting about the asymmetry of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater  

There is elegance in plotting a graph that approaches, but does not reach, a Limit.

Maybe I could just run as much as I felt and it wouldn’t matter how many miles I ran.  Maybe I could find other people who felt the same way.  Maybe there’s a place where there are no hills and you always have a tail wind; where they play Yanni 24x7 and no one gets cramps or blisters.

Maybe it’s in Utah.