Rim to Rim to Rim - April 2, 2016

"Let's go a little further," I yelled up to Greg, "I see a lake; let's check it out and we can turn around there. It's cooler when runs and workouts are defined around natural borders." It seemed fitting, too. It was my first time in Arizona and a big goal of the trip was to tackle the infamous Rim to Rim to Rim run. It is 48.8miles worth of trails with about 10,800ft of elevation and some of the most jaw-dropping views you can place upon your eyes. Greg and I booked our flights a while back and extended the invite out to a couple others. That was for tomorrow, though... right now we were about at our turnaround point for the 12mile shake out run on the Arizona Trail.

Races and runs that are defined by natural borders or occurrences always seem to move me a little more. The coolest thing about running the Boston Marathon is starting way out in the suburbs and then getting into the city and realizing how cool it was to actually run in-to the city from so far away (yes, I know, the distance is a set 26.2 miles but what I mean is that it isn't a course looped around itself or doubled back just to squeeze extra distance in... you start in Hopkington and run to Boston... it's the coolest).




The Rim to Rim to Rim is defined by starting at one rim of the Grand Canyon, running to the opposite rim, and then running back. (Yes, in case you were wondering, there are plenty of signs along the way warning of how dumb this idea is...) We drank a few beers the night before, laughed a little about "why we do this", and before you know it I was standing at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon with three others as the sun's beams welcomed us into what turned out to be one of the most memorable days of my life.











The cast:
Greg; training for a 24hour race around a one-mile track to qualify for the 24hr USA Men's Ultra Team.
Rivers; Elite endurance athlete, coach, all round heart-warming, genuine, naturally funny, and awesome dude. Greg and I met Rivers while on the Iron Cowboy's journey to 50-50-50 and stayed in contact since.
Drew; Rivers had met Drew during the Iron Cowboy adventure, too. Small world! Drew was training for a sub-2:30 marathon in a few months...
The only person we were missing was the Iron Cowboy himself... which came up multiple times during the day.

So, if you are wondering what kind of business I had being amongst these people, that makes two of us. I had neither the speed of Rivers and Drew, nor a fraction of the endurance Greg has been stockpiling in his cardiovascular system the past year or so. Greg had finished the Ghost Train 100 back in October when I pushed the eject button and yelled "no mas" after 75miles. I had rolled my ankle (again) pretty badly in this 100miler attempt and it hasn't been the same quite since. I took the whole month of January off from running, February I had logged about 20miles per week, March had averaged 40miles/week. But there I stood, April 2nd... ready to run.

I had no idea if I could finish this run - but I knew I was going to
. Greg is one of the best training  partners (let alone, friends) a guy could ask for and no doubt he would have carried me out of the canyon on his shoulders despite me outweighing him by about 40lbs if he had to. Spoiler alert: He damn near did.

We rallied at 2:30am for breakfast, picked Rivers up, met up with Drew (who had also flown in to AZ the same night and was running on no sleep; we found him reclined in his rental car catching Z's in a McDonalds parking lot), we dropped a car off and packed our supplies for the day. Best case scenario we would be about the for 11hrs... worst case was... well... I don't know actually, we didn't talk about that much but I was guessing 16hrs was the lower limit of our abilities depending on what the Canyon actually threw at us.

The Gear:
I was rocking my Orange Mudd double barrel pack and a hand-held. This thing is so money. It carried all my calories for the day, extra clothes, sunscreen, my phone, and yes, a couple nips of Fireball should we ever need it. Check out their stuff here if you need a pack. http://www.orangemud.com/#_l_51

I wore Altra - The One 2.5. These are not trial shoes at all. Super minimalist. Very little cushioning. Typically a road racing shoe. I like them a lot tho. They are the only shoe I can "feel" the trail on. Call me crazy but the low stack height is the only way I seem to keep my ankles aligned properly and not sideways over rocks and such. I react to the trail a lot better with less shoe.


I started a regimen of Tranzend about a month beforehand which was one of the best things I had going for me. This stuff not only helped with the semi-swollen ankle but also is huge on overall stress management in the body.

The bottles were filled with Tailwind Green Tea Buzz. Aside from that necessity- I will eat just about anything. And I did. I think around 9,000 calories total for the day.


The Scene:
There we stood with a few other hikers, a lone tree, the sun, and four smiles ear to ear. The descent along the switchbacks is like nothing I have ever run before. Gravity takes a hold of you and all you really do is stear your hips where you want them to go. Then you hope for the best. A mistep could mean anything from another rolled ankle, to actually rolling down the Canyon. We joked about what our last thoughts would be as we tumbled down to imminent death (yes, if you haven't noticed by now we are definitely a strange bunch of people/thoughts). I said mine would probably be something like the sound Mario makes when he is really small and gets eaten by a mushroom or Koopa hit him with spitting fireballs. Greg said he would be pumped to get the FKT down the trail and to make sure that someone sent his Garmin data in.

We caught our first glimpse of the Colorado River around mile 7 and then checked into the Phantom Ranch shortly after. 1hr 30min had passed but for the first time I can remember in my life, time stood still. It was just a non-factor. It was simply not a thought. It was, however, time to refill bottles, eat a bit, and change some clothes. It was 38 degrees Farenheight when we left the cars. The forecast said it supposed to get up about 80 in the Canyon throughout the day. And it did.

The next 9 miles or so are gradually uphill. But the kind of uphill you don't realize because you are spending all of your extra energy taking in the scenery, telling stories, laughing at jokes, quoting movies, singing, and wondering what is around the next corner. We were running at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. It was absolutely spectacular and again, another 2hrs had passed unknowingly and we had gained about 1,000ft since Phantom Ranch. Another bottle refill and we were off...

We got to the North Rim in about 5hrs45min total time. 23(ish) miles in and we were back up the 551 flights of stairs we descended earlier. It was 11:30 in the morning but I can't say enough about the feeling of time being non-existant. The only thing I really knew was that I was exactly where I needed to be at that moment in my life. I ate my PB&J sandwich, Greg threw a few snowballs, Drew howled at the wolf waiting for us at the North Rim, and Rivers sat in the big pile of snow with his burrito... We posed for some selfies and got our legs moving again. The pipes were all still winterized so there was no way to refill bottles at the top. Bummer.

Back down we went. The trail was filling up a with a bit more people so we stopped to chat a couple times. Some hikers, some runners, some campers - everyone had a story and it was pretty awesome. People curiously questioned what paths we took - if we were doing 3 rims, when we started, what we were eating, etc. It was fun to chat but we were making great timing and needed to keep moving. around mile 30 we were able ot stop and refill bottle. I took the liberty of taking a dip in the river. My legs were feeling it by this point. Not killing me terribly but after the pounding of the two steep descents and an epic number of switchbacks - I was feeling it.

Little did I know what the next 7 miles back to Phantom Ranch were going to entail. This was by far my favorite part of the day (Consequently, it was the same part of the day that probably roasted me toward the latter climb back to the South Rim). Call me Achilles but I was going to down in flames happily. About a mile after we refilled on the descent, the trail flattens out a bit... The same "sneaky ascent" I mentioned previously comes full circle and the trail turns into a slight downhill but not drastically noticable over the distance. The chatter, stories, and jokes stopped and I am sure that all of us fell into step tacitly. There was this magical rhythm that just overtook us. I didn't know it at the time but what I was experiencing was "flow". I can't speak for any of the other guys but their silence seemed to say it all.

Rivers led us out and he picked up the pace very gradually. He is a sub-2:20 marathoner, he's trained and raced with the best runners. He is also a family man, lives life with a smile plastered on his face, and goes where the wind takes him; he's also funny as all hell. I look up to the guy on more than one aspect of life. So when he started opening up a little gap along this section I had to ride the wave. I stayed on his heels and it seemed like he took my close proximity footsteps as a sign to push it harder. I was  a frog in boiling water. We ripped the next 6-7miles in less than an hour and along the straight sections we were no doubt around 6:30-7min/pace. I don't recall much of this section except how glorious it was to be running with friends at this other-worldly venue. These moments in anyone's running career are un-plannable and indescribable. Truly, a runner's high.

We checked back into Phantom Ranch 9hrs and 30min after the start (again, I only know these times by following the GPS data after all was said and done). 38miles, 10 to go, and they were all uphill. It was just now that I realized the error in my ways of trying to keep up with Rivs. I hadn't eaten or drank anything in the past hour or so. Not by choice. The miles to come were going to hurt.

Our way back up, we chose to take the Bright Angle trail. We wanted the extra shade and we also would likely never do this again so we had to see both trails... (What's an extra few miles at this point anyways?).

Well, it turned out to be about 3.5hrs of shuffling, skipping, sometimes running, but mostly fighting the urge to put the two nips of Fireball down the hatch and call for a helicopter evac. We had to battle sand running, big steps, little kids, people with cameras, and the imminent (but alas gorgeous sunset) over the last 10miles (we somehow lost Rivers and Drew to a bathroom break at the last check in... we thought they were up ahead, they thought we were behind... neither of those things were true. We doubled back and waited a bit; they moved forward a little further and waited for us a bit...).

It was fitting that Greg and I shared the last 10miles together though. I knew in Greg's heart of hearts he wanted to pin this run sub-12hrs and for a while I thought if I shuffled along we could do it but as we went on I was limited mostly to a 12-15min pace on the "flats" and hiking the steeps. Any time my heart rate rose above 140-145ish my head got dizzy and I felt faint. Greg ushered me along like a champion though. I told him to keep going knowing that he would have none of it even as the potential for the sub-12hr R2R2R slipped out of reach. I was so hungry - but couldn't eat.

Any endurance athlete knows this feeling and it is sort of an unwritten rule that the subject can't be held accountable for much of what he/she says and does at this point. Well, I pushed that rule a bit. Greg was forced to deal with my hangriness (noun. unwarranted feeling of anger toward anything and everything due to pure hunger) for longer than anyone should (maybe I was secretly being a douche of a friend in hopes he would ditch me and make up time to hit his sub-12 goal?). Either way, I watched in disgust as he cheerfully offered to take pictures for strangers who I equally wanted to push off the trail. He still found time to offer me water and tell me I was doing well as I ran for 30seconds and then walked to get my heart rate down. He almost pried the pack off my back to carry it for me - but I wouldn't allow that. I still found the energy to demand he "stop belittling me" and tell him he was being a jerk for sticking with me... It didn't phase Greg one bit though - he just kept on about "how awesome it was we get to spend a little more time here." It was the same "runner's bond" that brought me to drive almost 2hrs at 1:30 in the morning to deliver him pizza as he set the FKT along the MA Mid State trail.

When we got to about a mile or two to go I shaped up and got my shit together. We trotted to the finished line. I know at the time Greg wanted to punch me in the face but we decided upon a hug. The struggle was epic but the day was surreal... Rivers and Drew came up about 10minutes behind us and we laughed at how we managed to get lost on a single track trail...

Toward the end of the ride home Greg asked what the distance was from the North Rim to the top of Mt. Humphrey's (which we could see from the North Rim). Our best guess we came up with was about 90-100miles. I knew exactly what he was thinking I didn't have the mental capacity to verbalize it yet, though. It was a great run... but definitely had it's ups and downs.

How to push thru any workout using real science

A couple of days ago I found myself in How-the-F-am-I-going-to-do-this-land. You know the place... it's right next to Why-on-earth-do-I-keep-doing-this-to-myselfs-ville and just north of It's-been-a-long-day-maybe-I'll-skip-this-ones-town. The workout had been aimed at me all week and I just stood there staring blankly down the barrel like I imagine a cow looks at an oncoming train while it is standing right there on the tracks.

5 sets of 5minutes at 400+watts. 3min recovery in between...




This is a workout where 5minutes seems to last an hour and 3minutes is over in the blink of an eye. I found myself rationalizing and thought I would share a new form of calculus I have devised that you can implement on any workout to help hammer it out. 

It's actually real science so pay attention...




 

OK so lets start. There are 5 sets of 5 minutes total where you will be breathing like a mad person and you heart will be beating out of your chest - which seems like a lot of suffering to think about at the start but you really don't count the last set because everyone knows the feeling of being on the last set is amazing and no matter how much pain you are in you push thru it...it's the last set after all, right?




Right! So now you only have 4 sets to do... 4 sets of 5minutes seems terrible still. But think about it rationally with me here: Once you are over the half-way mark the whole workout is basically over... You're killing it at this point. Catch my drift?
 
Half way point of 4 sets is 2... (Don't forget to show your work)... so now that you only have two sets of five minutes to do you can automatically subtract the first set because everyone knows you can do the first set no problem... It's only the first set after all...

SO after the long division and carrying the remainders and implementing the order of operations we find that the workout really is only 5minutes long...

Five minutes isn't that long but it still can seem like forever - but "forever" only starts after your heart rate gets elevated which takes a like a minute or so once we re-apply the aforementioned "halfway principle" (see above) the only real work you have to do is for about two minutes...




 

 If you are thinking, "Two minutes is still pretty much forever," then you are absolutely right. There is no way you can do something for two minutes.

 


BUT there's another formula I'd like to introduce you to which will keep you going... It's call the 100 second theory. This theory incorporates the fact that you are a lean-mean-training machine and states that you can pretty much do anything for 20 seconds; so here we go, two minutes minus 20 seconds is 100seonds. So now you only need to make it to 1:40 (or 100seconds).






Once you get to 100seconds you start can imply the law of-"I am almost at less than a minute to go"... And no matter how tired you are you can make it to the one minute mark from the 100s mark... after that you can start thinking about one second, sixty times. 


Again you say, "one minute is an eternity" - have you ever starred at the microwave tick off one minute?... Have you learned nothing though? Think back to the halfway principle. You are pretty much at less than 30seconds of total workout time. So you are pretty much not even working out today since 30 seconds is only a few quick breaths... a few more breaths and your workout will be over.

So the final step is to do that... yes, just take one breath. Calm down and get a hold of yourself. Hard workouts are done by not panicking about what is to come or how many intervals you have left to do but just doing your best for one breath at a time and not worrying about whatever is down the line. Because really it is nothing and it'll be over in just the time it takes to inhale and exhale the next breath. Staying in the present moment will undoubtedly help you thru not only hard workouts but any other thing that is seemingly a source of stress in your life. You want proof? See Below...

One Hundred Eighty

A few nights ago I laid in bed sleepless at 3am. Not a huge deal as it happens every now and again and when it does I usually succumb to the endless rabbit hole that is Reddit and YouTube.

Now, there is no way I could possibly Hansel and Gretel my bread crumbs back to how I exactly ended up on the 2014 World Darts Championship video  but that is neither here nor there. I had played darts quite a bit passing time on the car carriers traversing the Atlantic with a few lively Croatian characters but I had no idea the intricacies or ways of the sport.

To summarize: Each person starts with 501points and casts 3 darts per round. The highest possible score per dart is the "triple 20". So if you land three darts in the "trip20" it is labeled as "perfect darts" and a "perfect score" of 180 is announced very exuberantly (or should I say 'ONNNNEEE HUUNNDRED and EEEIIIGGHHTTYY') by the announcer, the crowd goes wild, the 180 score is deducted from 501, and the darter retrieves his darts for the next round (the winner is the first person to get to zero). There are more intricate rules for everything, I know, but for simplicity sake a "9 darter" is a perfect game and you end with a bulls-eye... After the first cast, the next player casts his darts, and so on...

The most prominent thing I noticed in these videos was not how incredibly and lively the world of darts is, but quite the opposite. If you notice the demeanor of the player casting these "perfect darts"... Everyone is going nuts around them - the announcer literally can't believe it's not butter - and people actually make "180" signs and dance around, etc. The darter succumbs to none of it. He stays poised and focused. I bet he doesn't even hear anything and immediately after he throws the darts he probably forgets about them. The only thing on his mind is the next dart. It is pretty impressive. Only after all 9 darts are cast perfectly does the guy rejoice and pump his fist in victory. It's kind of like a pitcher throwing a perfect game... everyone knows what is going on around them but the challenge is to stay focused on the task at hand. Act like you've been there before. Every decision or task has a purpose and every thing you do has to bring you closer to the end goal; because, if it doesn't get you closer, it will drag you further away. I am a firm believer that there is no room for complacency and no such thing as stagnancy. It is better or it is worse.

Another example is this newly developed football phenomenon of a "touchdown end zone dance". The dances are nothing more than a self centered cry for attention and a simple way for players to whore-out there brand (OK admittedly this blog is not much more than that either but I don't really want to get in to that right now). They are getting paid to do their job of getting in to the end zone and only when the other 10 people on the field, 53 other people on the team, 20 coaches, and maybe even someone on the other team makes a mistake, do they get in to the end zone for points. Even so, you didn't win the game yet... so get back to work. Stay focused. Check this amazing video out of what Barry Sanders does after every time he scored: What ever happened to handing the ball to the ref and acting like you did what you did with intention...  "Act like you've been there before." How ridiculous would it be if I spiked my cell phone every time I brought in a sale? (OK admittedly sometimes I think about it... depending on the situation but it is but a fleeting thought.).

Anyways. That's the goal and focus for 2016. I realized my previous years racing have been all over the place with random adventures here, maybe a 70mile run if I want there, and no real structure or plan. With some much needed guidance from the Breakthrough Performance Coaching team and Jeff Capobianco I am pumped for things to come in 2016 and am confident this is the year we get to the Big Island in October. Having a coach who not only knows how to but also has the patience to focus and refocus (and refocus) a guy like me who loves to race and do any random thing I can think of is a rarity and after only a few weeks under the BPC tutelage, I can really feel how this structure is going to break me through (shameless pun) to the next level and help me get to where I want to be by the end of the year.

I will end with another little mantra or phrase that unmistakably emanates from the BPC family and the upcoming 2016 season. It is a Greek word that doesn't directly translate to English but is more of a feeling or idea... Arête - roughly " excellence for the pure sake of excellence. Depending on what the word is describing, the meaning changes. It is excellence in the purest state of the potential to be excellent.

Coeur d'Alene... here I come. Full force, baby.

"It was commonly believed that the mind, body, and soul each had to be developed and prepared for a man to live a life of arete. This led to the thought that athletics had to be present in order to obtain arete. They did not need to consume one's life, merely exercise the body into the right condition for arete, just like the mind and soul would be exercised by other means." "Ancient Greek Athletics", By Stephen G. Miller. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2004

When it's not about you...

I signed up to pace the Maine Marathon for personal, selfish reasons. Most of time, someone will sign up to "pace" a marathon to help others achieve their goal time. There's no doubt that the choice to take on these endeavors consequently takes away from time with friends and loved ones. Why we do what we do is still a bit beyond me but that is not what this is about...

I signed up to pace the 3h 55m group. Running a marathon at that pace was well within my comfort zone.  I was selfishly using this race as a training run for the Ghost Train 100 Mile Run coming up in a few weeks. My intention behind signing up was simply to have a supported long run with aid stations, where I don't have to plan gas-station-stops for food, or break into local port-a-pottys along the way. I thought I was just going to show up, run at an easy pace, and then go home.

I quickly realized that this race was not about me though; things began to change for me mentally just as soon as the cannon fired to start the 26.2-mile brigade. I held my orange 3:55 sign high, waiting in my corral. People began to nervously gather around the goofy looking, bearded, bandanna, guy with an Orange Mud double quiver back pack. The 3:55 group was sure to bring a wide variety of people my way. Breaking 4hrs in a marathon is a big goal for runners of all kinds of backgrounds.

The first few miles of a marathon are always interesting.

For this marathon, everyone seemed to be feeling good, it was a perfect day weather-wise, and the pre-race jitters hadn't really shaken out yet. From what I could tell, I had a pretty good group forming around me. 

Everyone made typical running small talk as the group got to know each other. I made a pretty solid effort to be on the receiving end of all conversation. I normally don't talk a ton about what I am up to (these self-centered, written, race-sermons aside), but today I made it even more of a point to get to know everyone in my group. There was a woman who was also training for an ultra in a few months, to another gal running her 98th marathon, to a couple first timers; there were two younger friends running together as a "reunion marathon", a couple of people who had said they had just quit smoking, and generally people of all different shapes, sizes, and ages.

Admittedly, my favorite of the crew was a guy who I would not actually come to see until the very finish. He was a heavy breathing man running directly behind me who would occasionally kick my foot or flatten my shoe under my heal. He never apologized. He never even spoke a word for that matter. He didn't laugh at all or offer any small talk. No one else in the group paid him any mind, and from what I could tell, he didn't care about that either.

This guy was on a mission. From the very beginning, I could tell that this man was digging into the depths of his soul to keep pace with my stupid, orange, laminated sign. I know this pain and this drive very well. He was on the fringe of his ability. Anything faster would have been too much for him, but- anything slower would probably allowed him to talk and chat a little bit. At this pace though, the numbers on the sign might-as-well be giving him the middle finger and taunting him the whole time.

I never found out what his motivation was but I guess I didn't need to know that either. I had been in his shoes and know exactly what kind of suffering he was willingly putting himself through to keep pace. My heart melts for people who subject themselves to a test of this sort.

The whole group kept it together well; we laughed and joked about pretty much anything along the way but about every 9minutes things would get ridiculously serious. The intention of the race would refocus synchronously as all the running-watches would chime off the mile semi-simultaneously.

It was this check-in that kept me super motivated throughout the race. This is when everyone made it clear that they were counting on me to get them to the finish on time. I don't quite know how to put in to words how important everyone tacitly made it known that we were on pace; that they were counting on me. This damn paper sign just kept getting heavier.

One woman even said to me around mile five as I shifted my stride to the middle of the road, "You can't move too much like that because I will get too nervous if I am far away from you."

Everyone here had been training for months. Sacrificing personal time, putting themselves through vigorous training, and pushing their bodies through tough workouts, they unknowingly put their faith in some chump who signed up last week, and only a few hours prior, just though he was going to show up, finish, and go home.

It was amazing the amount of trust they placed in me, a complete stranger, with a stupid smile on his face, corny running jokes, holding a dumb sign, to make (or break) their race. 

Strava data HERE! The miles clicked off quickly. For the first ten, according to my watch, we were right at 8:55 pace per mile. A 3:55 marathon is equal to 8:57 pace per mile. I had told the group that I was planning on "banking" some time until I could figure out if the course was running long or short or whatever.

Everyone else was wearing a watch as well, which proved to be an added bit of difficulty. A couple grumblings like, "We are at an 8:50 pace why are we going so fast?"

But I had assured them to place their trust in me and assured them, "This is what I get paid the big bucks for." (Listen to me bullshit... they had no reason to trust me and even more so that this was my first time pacing any sort of a race... but I kept that part to myself... "ActAsIF is the name of the blog after all, alright? Back off.).

There was a race clock at the half way point and I started to get really nervous as we approached it. Though I thought we were banking time, I was also running the turns pretty wide and weaving a bit for optimal placement. I was running on pace but the small amounts of extra running side-to-side on the course made it so I was running longer than the measured 26.2-miles. Marathons are measured 26.2-miles if you run the exact shortest distance possible on the streets. I completely overlooked this fact as I paced the group. 
So, as the clock ticked 1:57:24 as we crossed 13.1-miles, I told the group we were right on pace and exactly where we needed to be. 1:57:24, times two, equals... well, you do the math.

The miles got longer and longer perceptively, but the crew was still doing well. I think a few dropped off but I tried to offer some encouragement through the marathon-doldrums of miles 16-21. The talking and chitter-chatter turned into grumblings and eventually to silence.

Around mile 21 is when the silence turns to swears and curses.

I started to pass people on the course who were up ahead for most of the race, but now they were unwillingly slowing down. They looked at the stupid numbers on my sign and said things likes, 

"Shit! Not you!"

"Ahhhh WTF are you doing here?" 

And the classic, all encompassing, softly but meaningfully spoken, "Goddamnit."

I knew they were not talking to me personally, but I tried my best at a humorous response, maybe to lift their spirits, 

"C'mon I am not that ugly am I?"

"But we barely even know each other!"

However, and I know this all too well, all humor is out the window at this point of a marathon victim in this mental space. My outside efforts and vocal encouragement to pick people up and motivate them along the way to, "Just keep up with me for four more miles! I'll get you there." weren't nearly enough. A drop in the ocean of hurt. Most people who heard me tried to put in that extra boost, but in the last four miles of a marathon, the motivation must come internally. Nothing can really snap someone out of it but themselves. 

I still had a skeleton crew with me, but more and more I felt the pain of the people that I passed. I started to actually think that I should slow down and run with them at their pace, as if me carrying the 3:55 sign meant that I was in charge of the official clock. I was the impersonation of some hellish suffering people not only willingly were putting themselves through, but paid money to suffer through as well.

We got closer and closer to the finish line and I was nailing the time/pacing pretty on point.

It was uplifting in the final 100-feet or so everyone yelled,

"Great pacing!"

"Well done pacer!" 

They could see the 3:54:30 tick off the clock as I approached at a constant pace.

I smiled an unenthusiastic smile.

What I really wanted to do was yell at them, infuriated, "Well done pacer? - FUCK that! DO YOU NOT SEE THE GROUP BEHIND ME THAT JUST BURIED THEMSELVES TO GET ACROSS THE FINISH LINE?! CHEER FOR THEM, NOT ME, MOTHER FUCKERS!"

I didn't yell that. I was too busy trying to curb the wave of emotion washing over me. You know that feeling in your chest and face right before you get that, "Aw-shit-I'm-about-to-start-crying-in-pubic?"

I chatted with a bunch of people in my group afterwards. This was so awesome and motivating. The man who was outwardly busting his ass ended up falling off my 3:55-train in the last few miles, however, he crossed the finish line a couple minutes after me. He nailed is ultimate goal of a sub-4hr marathon.

The people in my group kept thanking me, but they truly don't know how much I appreciated every step I got the honor of sharing with them. I was all smiles the whole way home. Doing this really warmed my heart in a way I could have never imagined.

http://beastpacing.com/billy-hafferty
https://instagram.com/haffatree/

SOS (Survival of the Shawangunks)

This race's uniqueness is rivaled only by it's beauty. Not to mention it is put on by an incredible team of directors and volunteers. The 50.5 mile, 8 stage race is completely point to point and not for the faint of heart. 

Bike: 30 miles 

Run 4.5mi to Awosting 

Swim: 1.1mi Awosting 

Run 5.5mi to Minnewaska 

Swim .5mi Minnewaska 

Run 8mi to Mohonk 

Swim .5mi Mohonk 

Climb .7 mi to Albert K. Smiley Memorial Tower

This is a picture of the finish... from the start!

I have been trying to get in to this race for years and finally made it happen for 2015. It sells out in minutes as there are only 150 slots. Anyways, signing up was bittersweet after I realized it would be only two short weeks after the 140.6 in Muskoka. My legs were still a bit wobbly at the starting line but this thing was going to be a ton of fun no matter what.

The Bike 1hr 24min (21.4mph) 300watts
The 30 mile bike starts off with mostly flat rolling terrain for the first 25 miles and then ascends about 1200ft over the next 5 miles. Oh, you were looking forward to the descent? I am sorry to hear that because at the top of the climb you kiss your two wheels goodbye and begin the trek to the first pond. I lead the bike brigade for the first 10 miles which we hammered out in about 23 minutes. It was the first time I have been following the police escort car in a race before. I was robbed of this at about mile 11 but still managed to throw down the second best bike split of the day. We hammered the first 25 miles out in seconds over an hour and the next 5 miles took about 23 minutes climbing up the hill.

Here is the Strava file on the next 20.5miles with the breakdown below mostly in pictures.

I ditched my bike and grabbed all my gear I would need (goggles, cap, food) for the rest of the race. The run to Lake Awosting is a gradual uphill for about 4.5miles. I kept the leader in sight but he kept getting smaller smaller. Not a huge deal though; my legs were already screaming and I had beaten them so badly the past month that the crack of whip or jab of a spur no longer affected the motivation to move faster. This was expected and did not affect how awesome the race was for me mentally.

It had been about 36 minutes since I stopped pedaling and here is where the logistics get fun: you cross the timing mat and jump in the water. The shoes slid off you feet and into the back of the shorts, cap on, goggles on, and now you are swimming the length of this gorgeous lake. The 1.1mile swim took me about 28 minutes.

Again, like a transformer on the hunt you pop out of the water, get your balance, and throw your sopping wet shoes back on for the 5.5 mile trail. This trail is slightly downhill and it takes me about another 36 minutes until the sight of more water and cheering voices. I am horizontal and kicking again at one end of Lake Minnewaska - 16 minutes and half a mile later I am being helped out of the water and up rocks and putting my shoes back on!

My body has no idea what is going on at this point but I can't imagine it being too befuddled after some of the previous crazy tasks I have asked it to perform over the years. By now, it just says, "WTF, why not?" and goes with it. The run to the next lake is a long one; 8 miles and some decent hills but the scenery is a the most amazing form of distraction.

The 8 miles cruise by in a little over an hour. I get closer and closer to the lake entrance and the cheering is louder and louder. I looked from one end of the lake and the huge smile I have now had across my face for the last 4.5hrs stretched even wider to the number of tiny people at the other end of Lake Mohonk calling me over.

I let out a giant "WOOO HOOO" as I jumped in the lake and turned myself back into a swimmer for a half a mile and 13.5 minutes.

The grand finale after getting out of a lake for the third time of the day is a glorious 7 tenth of a mile hike up 500ft to the top of Mohonk Skytop Tower. The view is worth every vertical step.

With a total time of 4hrs 44min I finished 8th place and fastest male 25-29 (I was a dingus and signed up for OPEN so I forfeited the official award). This race should be on the bucket list of any fun seeking triathlete who prides themselves on taking on new and different challenges. You gotta step outside the box every now and again and TRY SOMETHING NEW!