Dec/Jan - Avalon and Beyond

"Today, you have %100 of your life left." - Tom Landry (Dallas Cowboys Coach 1960-1989)

The most beautiful sunrise.  Mile 10 of Avalon 50

I don't even know where to start, other than by saying that the last 6 weeks have been some of the best I can remember.  I've run farther and faster than ever before, and have spent quality time with family and friends.  I've been incredibly lucky, and am SO THANKFUL for my life.

I ended 2010 on top of a mountain with 20 AMAZING and INSPIRING friends, and started 2011 by running down that mountain in the dark.  That run was the beginning of an epic 39 mile weekend with 9500 feet of climbing that ended a 59 mile week.  New years day was spent on parts of the AC course with Dom and Katie, followed by a burger and a beer.  The next day I ran the Boney Mountain course with a bunch of Coyotes in the rain.

For the last few months I've wanted to run 50 miles, and on December 27th, 2010 I registered for the Avalon 50 Mile Endurance Run.  I'd been considering it for a while, but was hesitant because of the problem I've been having with my metatarsal.  After trying some new shoes and wearing my VFF's more often, I decided to give it a shot.  I knew that even if it dropped, I could probably handle the pain.  Also, it's not like I'm going to stop running completely to let something that doesn't even hurt most of the time heal.  Stopping wouldn't even guarantee that it'd heal, either.  I just can't stop.  It's stupid, I KNOW. Anyway, I consulted with Jimmy and decided to register for Avalon.  From December 27th until January 15th(Race Day), I couldn't stop thinking about the race.  Would my foot hold up?  If it didn't, would I permanently injure myself?  Would I run into other problems? CRAZY, but whatevs.

I had 2.5 weeks to prepare for the race.  I wanted to get in at least 1 50+ mile week before I ran a 50 miler, so as mentioned above that week I ran 59.  It was a big jump from my previous high of 46 but I was feeling strong, so I committed and made it happen.  The next week I scaled back, doing about 19 easy miles during the week and another 26 on the weekend for a total of 45.  My one solid run of the week was with Lukas Temer, when we pre-ran the 13.5 mile Boney course.  We started around 530 AM in the dark, which almost always guarantees some beautiful scenery when the sun comes up.  After we were done I hung out at the finish line and watched the Coyote crew kill it.  Notably, Jimmy's Boney course PR of 1:41 and Crispin's first trail race time of 1:43 - AWESOME.  Although the 45 miles this week were almost as much as my previous high, I'd done quite a few 40-45 mile weeks in November and December so I still felt pretty strong.

The week leading up to the race was a nervous one.  My metatarsal had started hurting a bit during my run with Lukas, but I decided not to worry about it, as it has been pretty inconsistent and there's not much I could do about it anyway.  I did the Tuesday night SPEED workout with the Coyotes, and posted my FASTEST ever 2 loop negative split, with a first loop of 14:35 and a second loop of 13:50.  The loops are 2.1 miles, so our average pace was 6:57 (1st loop) and 6:36 (2nd loop).  I ran with Kevin Chan the whole time, and he and I both nearly puked afterwards!  AWESOME!  I didn't understand why I was doing a SPEED workout 4 days before my first 50 Mile race, but I trusted Jimmy and ran hard.  Thursday morning's Coyote run was up Westridge, and I took it super easy.  Annie and I did a 5 Mile loop with an average pace around 10 min/mile.  I wanted to run to the top, but Jimmy told me it would be a bad idea so I heeded his advice.  HOLY SHIT.  2 DAYS LEFT.

Thursday flew past, as it was my last full work day before the race.  I was booked on the 2 PM Ferry to Catalina with Jimmy on Friday, so I was planning on leaving the office at noon.   Thursday night I packed my bag and made everything ready for the race.  I woke up countless times, and dreamed about my race.  All week I could see Catalina looming in the distance on my way in to work.  When I woke up Friday I was SO EXCITED (man.  I need some new adjectives.  but seriously, I was really fucking excited and that's the best way to describe it).  I opened the office and got as much done as I could so Ryan wouldn't have too tough of an afternoon, then texted Jimmy to get our plan straight.  I left my office at 1145 and got to Jimmy's in time to wait for about 15 mins while he finished getting ready to go.  We grabbed Baja Fresh curbside and hit the road down to Catalina.  I had a double steak burrito with beans and rice inside.  It was dank. 

The 2 PM Ferry from Long Beach was ALL runners.  EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM knew Jimmy, and as we all talked, I couldn't help wondering what the next 24 hours had in store for me.  Would I even be finished running by 2 PM the next day?  PROBABLY NOT.  I was excited to see what this new distance held for me.  Excited about being a part of a race with so much talent.  Just STOKED (there's one!).  We got to the island and checked in to the hotel, an easy stroll from the port, and headed down to get some pizza and check-in with the race organizers.  These few hours on Friday evening moved so fast, even though we were all pretty relaxed.  At dinner we celebrated Sean O'Brien's 48th B-Day, had some laughs and talked about goals.  It was nice being around so many runners who were so supportive and had so much experience, as it really calmed my nerves.  I had no clue how much pain I would be experiencing in a few hours.  Kam and I went back to the hotel after dinner to make some PB and J sandwiches around 9 or so, and afterwards said goodnight.  I set my alarm for 4:15 and hit the hay, and didn't stir until that sucker went off.

And we're off!

I got dressed pretty quickly, grabbed my hand-held and backpack, and met the crew downstairs.  Jimmy had given me a "lucky bandana" to wear around my neck and soak with cold water when it got hot.  I had my headlamp, I was ready to rock.  I just want to re-iterate that I had ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING CLUE how hard it was going to be to run 50 miles.  I was jokin' around, having fun.  Woohooo, headlamps!  Hey Jimmy, who's SHORTS are SHORTER.  In 7 hours I'd be death marching up a hill in the BAKING FUCKING SUN and not able to drink enough water.  But I digress.  It was super exciting, and we all sort of milled around and chatted while we waited for the race to start.  We lined up behind an imaginary line, and the RD came to the front and said "OK, everybody ready to go?  Alright, GO." and that was it.


We morphed into a line of headlamps running up a hill and into the night.  We ascended approximately 1700 feet over the next 4 or 5 miles, and I took it easy.  I walked 2 mins, ran 2 mins.  Did this for what seemed like forever.  I never really got into a rhythm.  All I could do was listen to people chatting, and focus on my pace.  It was WEIRD.   Almost every run I go on now will start out with a pretty good feeling.  I love the feeling of moving, of my feet hitting the ground.  I used to dislike running, especially the first few miles, but that's gone.  This run was different, though.  I wasn't nervous, per se, but I just didn't feel that feeling.  I was focused on pace.  I got a weird competitive feeling.  I was getting passed by a lot of people who looked slower than me, but kept my ego in check and followed my plan.

The SUNRISE was the most BEAUTIFUL sunrise I've ever seen.  Seriously fucking serious.  I laughed.  I laughed out loud to myself when I looked back over my right shoulder and saw an indescribable array of colors.  I almost tripped, because I couldn't stop looking back.  A truck with a camera guy on it passed me, and although I had my headphones in and didn't even hear what he asked me, I said "did you see that SUNRISE?!?!?!?!".  Anyway, for the first 30 miles I just tried to take it easy and deal with things as they came.  I didn't have any too serious stomach problems, but my energy remained low and my feet were hurting.  The metatarsal thing started happening a little at mile 12 or so, but eventually the bottoms of both my feet hurt uniformly, so it was bearable.  I changed shoes at mile 18 into my Lunar Glides, and didn't feel the ground for the next 3 or 4 miles, then they started hurting again.

On my descent towards the mile 25 aid station I saw Jimmy on his way up the hill.  I'd been nervous for a while about what he would say when he saw me reaching that point an hour ahead of schedule, but at the same time was overjoyed to see a friend.  Having a tough day and knowing you still have another 4, possibly 5 hours left of running is a tough thing to deal with.  I used the toilet at mile 25 and was REBORN.  For the next 3 miles, I ran pretty quickly, at around 8 - 9 minute pace.  I felt pretty good, comparatively.  I saw a bunch of people on this out n back section, including Kam, and cheered people on their way out as I passed.  I briefly stopped at the a.s. again at mile 28 and then began the steep ascent back up the fire road.  I passed so many people as my headphones BLASTED "Separate Ways" by Journey, and I sang along accordingly.  Later, after the race, a dude came up and was like "Your singing was motiviating!".  Sweet.

I hit the top of the hill and focused on hydration and food as I ran down toward the Wacko aid station again (the place where I'd changed shoes earlier) which was now at mile 35.  I was pushing an 8 minute mile in some places, and passed a few people.  Somewhere along this stretch I remember thinking to myself that I was about to pass the 31 mile mark (the farthest I'd run until then) and that I was still able to jog.  When I got to the aid station I poured cold water all over my head, soaked my "Lucky Bandana" and WL headband and began the hike up the next hill.  This is when the race became brutal.  It's hard to comprehend how far you've gone, and how far you have to go.  The sun was beating down, I was power hiking every steep uphill, sore on the downs.  I couldn't drink enough water.  I kept wondering if I was doing better or worse than I should be.

Mentally, this was the hardest part of the race.  I was by myself, and when the hills were steep, all I knew was that there was an 11 mile climb.  I couldn't imagine being able to climb the way I was for 11 Miles.  LUCKILY I didn't have to.  The ascent became much more gradual, and life sorta became better.  I was hurting all over, still feeling dehydrated, concerned about water and salt intake and my stomach felt weird.  I couldn't really pee, but felt like I could.  Just generally uncomfortable for this entire climb.  There were a few times that I felt ok running in the shade, but then sure enough I'd get to a point where I needed to hike.  HOWEVER, as I continued moving forward I knew that I was getting closer and closer to the finish.
It hurt to WALK, it hurt to RUN.  Everything HURT.  But, the miles kept passing by.  Or I passed the miles.  At one point - I think it was about mile 39 - I passed a Buffalo.  I was so tired that I didn't really care.  I just thought:  Hmm.  If that Buffalo wanted to gore me right now, chances of me out running it in my current state are... slim to none.  Please.  PLEASE. Buffalo, don't charge.  And he didn't.  At some point I passed a super cool aid station where there was music, people drinking beers, a grill.  All sorts of stuff that I was too mental to take advantage of.  They filled my pack and I enjoyed some more of the cool water before moving along.  I was so happy to only have around 10 miles left.

Feelin AWESOME mile 45 ish.

Very pained smile @ Mile 47 or so.

The last 10 miles seem sorta blurry.  I don't remember that much in particular.  Only that at one point, I was upset with my shuffle for shuffling though the same music over and over (that I loaded it with) and not putting on what I wanted.  This was shortly before the last aid station, where I was nearly moved to tears by the people working there cheering me on as I approached.  It was maybe 5 miles out, that felt like 3.  I hit the paved descent (which I'm told was 2.5 miles) and passed a guy who looked pretty beat up.  I didn't know if I was going the right way or not, but by the time I thought I wasn't I'd descended so much that I just said FUCK IT.  Who was I kidding?  I wasn't going to run up any more FUCKIN' HILLS.  I cruised. and cruised.  and cruised.  Jesus.  Is this hill ever going to END?  Then I came around a corner and saw the most beautiful thing ever.  A little town called AVALON.  A BOARDWALK.  A FINISH LINE.  I started HOWLING at the top of my lungs.  Nobody could hear me, but I didn't care.  I cruised down the streets passing houses and such.  Hoping I didn't have to avoid a car.  I turned on to the last hill, and started sprinting down.  I saw Jonathan Bernard at the bottom and figured I'd toss my handheld for my sprint to the finish.

Dude!  SWEET!

As I got closer to the finish line, I heard bells ringing and people cheering and it was all a blur.  I was looking for my dad (who couldn't make it) and for Annie.  I saw Jimmy running towards me and I reached out and slapped him 5 as I ran past.  I heard people cheering my name and I crossed the finish line and Jimmy and Kate and Annie surrounded me and gave me hugs.  It was one of the happiest moments of my life.  I was so happy to be finished.  I was so happy there were people there who cared about me.  I was so happy that I wasn't running.  It was UNREAL.  Kate almost immediately asked me if I still wanted to sign up for AC.  Jimmy said "Dude, now imagine feeling exactly how you feel right now and running another 50 miles.".  I told them I was still going to do it.  I tried to soak in the freezing water of the pacific but it was too cold.  Annie brought me a coke and a beer.  I sat down next to Jimmy, and it was FUCKING AWESOME.
The next 3 weeks were spent recovering.  My race performance and training earned me the honor of being the first ever COYOTE OF THE MONTH, and Coyote of the week.  I won 3rd in my division at Avalon.  I got a super sweet tile and some Moeben sleeves.  Basically, EVERYTHING that I could've asked for at the beginning of this year has happened.

Friendship

"Life is partly what we make it, and partly what is made by the friends we choose." - Tennessee Williams

The past few months have been some of the best that I've had in recent years.  I used to think that Los Angeles was a place where good, close friends were hard to find.  That is %100 accurate if you are looking in the wrong place.  What makes it more difficult, is to even know where to look.  It seems that many people in their twenties and thirties are still trying to figure out what they want to be when they grow up.  There's an inherent insecurity that comes with the disconnect between who we are now and who we want to be.

For the first few years that I was here, that disconnect for me was huge.  Even through much of the self-discovery and positive changes that I made, I didn't develop too many close friendships.  For a large portion of that time, my perception of who I was depended deeply on my relationship with my ex-girlfriend, as opposed to my relationship with myself.  Over the past two years, the soul searching I've done as a single dude has ultimately led to a broad-stroke simplification of my life.  This has made it much easier to develop those close friendships that I was looking for.

Instead of focusing so much on what I want to be, I've just been doing what I want to do.  Most of what I want to do is running related.  It almost always involves the Coyotes, or trails that my involvement with them has lead me to run on.  I've not made these new friends because they are there.  I've made them friends because they are good people.  They share my passion.  They like to run, they like to drink beers, they like karaoke.  They are people that I want to be like when I grow up.  They aren't selfish, but not because they are trying not to be.  They are inspiring, and they don't care that they are inspiring.  They run free.

One of these friends, Gabi, pretty much fixed my foot.  It's been fucked up for a few months now, and I've done tons of research and been seen by a podiatrist and chiropractor and still it hurt. Since Gabi worked on it last Thursday night, I've run twice with no problems.  She didn't have to help me out, she did it because she's a good friend, and she asked nothing in return.  We ran up Mt. Wilson together on Sunday afternoon.  It was cold, pouring rain and windy.  We couldn't see anything other than the fire road, really.  We could see the trees surrounding us and the steep rocks above and below the trail, but there were no beautiful vistas.  All we could see were the clouds we were in and the rain blowing in our faces.  The rain pouring down on our hoods made it difficult to hear.

We climbed 9 miles in 2.5 hours, and when we were close to the top Gabi wasn't feeling great and we still had a few miles to go.  If I'd run this trail solo that day, I would've turned around far earlier, and I told her that we could turn around at any point if she wasn't feeling well.  She said "I didn't run for the last few hours in the pouring rain up the side of a mountain to not get to the top."  We got to the top of the mountain, and although my hands were freezing and the wind was throwing cold rain in our faces, it felt glorious.  We ran down the mountain in an 1 hr 10 mins after the 2.5 hour ascent.  Halfway down the mountain we reached Henninger flats and the clouds cleared enough for us to see the beautiful mountain we were running on, and just enough to see the city a few thousand feet below.  It was BREATHTAKING.  It was SO WORTH IT.  This run was EPIC.  Afterwards, I felt physically better than I have after ANY run for the last 4 months.

This brings me back to the quote on the top of the page.  If I hadn't met the Coyotes, more importantly, if I hadn't met Gabi, I wouldn't have had this experience.  I'm incredibly grateful for my new friends, and hope that these few months have just been the beginning of great times to come.

The Pleasure of Pain: Santa Monica 50K Report

"The Obsession with Running is Really an Obsession with the Potential for More and More Life"~George Sheehan

My friend Joe T has a rule that you shouldn't say something unless it is informative or funny.  I don't think bloggers generally follow that rule all of the time, but for your sake, I hope this race report will be both.

Although every race that I've run has been an exciting journey both leading up to and during the event itself, this race meant more to me than the previous 3.  It's hard for me to remember sometimes that I'm new to this sport.  Whether that even matters depends on who you ask.  Everyone has goals - short term or long term, professional, personal, spiritual, physical - it doesn't matter.   Everyone's got 'em.  I choose to set more goals than the average person, but not because I feel the need to have achievements.

I think I set more goals because I want to live a fuller life.  I want to have as many experiences as I can, and setting goals forces me to push my limits.  When the alarm clock goes off at 4:15 AM, and a choice has to be made, if I didn't have goals I would choose to sleep in.  I could just run a little after work, or not run as far.  Or not run at all.  But then, what would I do?  Just go to work feeling tired?  Afterward go and have some drinks somewhere, then go home and do it all again the next day?  I'm gonna give that idea the dolphin. You know.... eh eh (Dolphin noise?  No?  Not feelin' it?).  Whatever.

I choose to set goals that require me to live almost every day to the fullest.  Although I love running, in order to be driven to do what I love I need goals.  For me, the less achievable the goal, the better.  The harder I have to work, the farther that goal will take me on that journey.  For this race, my goal was to finish in the top 10 overall and in under 5 hours.  For someone with my running background, those goals were quite lofty.  In my mind they were attainable, though.  I mean hey, I'm a stud, right?  Don't answer that.

Anywho... I'd finished Bulldog in just over 5 hours, and felt more confident before this race in every aspect of my running.  Even though I took a month off from late September to late October, I'd gotten a few 45 mile weeks in leading up to the race, and ran strong at the end of my back to backs on the weekends.  At some points, Bowman and I had been running sub 7 minute miles on the downhills deep into our long runs.

The week before the race, the forecast for race day was cold and wet.  There was a 60% chance of precipitation.  Much of the course is on exposed hillsides overlooking the Pacific, so chances are it would be windy, too.  I still had high hopes, though, and wasn't too concerned with the weather.  What I WAS concerned with was the DUMB decision I'd made to buy a bed a week before to race instead of registering.  The registration fees weren't that much, but the bed was expensive, and I couldn't have both.  I figured that it was a smaller race and that it probably wouldn't sell out, so I could just register the Friday before the race when I got paid.  Thursday night I logged on to Facebook and saw a friends post that the race was SOLD OUT.  I was DEVASTATED.  I'd wanted so badly to run this race, and now it looked as though there was no chance I would be able to.  All because I chose to buy something that I didn't absolutely NEED, instead of registering to do something that I absolutely LOVE.  DEVASTATED.

Luckily for me, my friend GABI SCHENKEL knew the race director, and sent her an email for me.  Because of Gabi, I was able to run the race despite my poor choice.  Gabi, THANK YOU!  I was so relieved when I found out that I could still race, and I returned to my anxious and excited state of pre-race existence.

The day before the race, I relaxed.  I cleaned up my apartment a little bit, ate a lion's share of gelato, had a beer or two and went to sleep around 930.  The race wasn't until 830 Sunday morning, so I got a full 8 hours before waking up at 530 to eat breakfast and start my routine.  My roommate, Elya Beer, had given me a 25 dollar iTunes gift card on Saturday that he didn't need.  I bought some music that I'd been wanting for a while, loaded it up on my iPhone, and hopped in the car for my drive out to the Bu (Malibu).  It had been pouring rain when I woke up, but as I drove, the clouds started to clear up.  When I got to the start area it was gorgeous outside.  It was a little bit windy/chilly but comfortable racing weather.  I registered, met up with Bowman, and we put our drop bags at the pass through.

Pre-race pump up song:



The SM 50K course is two loops on the La Jolla Canyon/Valley trail, one loop in Sycamore Canyon, and one out and back on Ray Miller.  We started on time at 830, and Bowman and I settled in behind about 15 or 20 runners.  There was a 30K race also, which started at the same time, so we figured that most of the people ahead of us were in that race.  We ran the first mile a little fast at a 1030 pace (it's up a fairly steep hill in a canyon) but both felt pretty strong.  I was hanging behind Bowman, just watching his feet as we ran.  There was still a lot of mud on the course from the rain, and it weighed down our shoes as we ran through it.  Regardless, we kept pushing up the hill to Mugu Peak and didn't let it slow us down too much.  We were careful about our food and salt intake, eating every 20 mins and taking salt every 30.  There was one guy ahead of us for most of the uphill, who we ended up passing on the flat section through the valley.  He'd made some snarky remarks about our howling.  We didn't let it bother us.  We ran at a pretty quick pace back down the canyon but didn't push too hard.  When we got to the aid station at the bottom we both felt strong still, although my stomach had started feeling a little rough.

The first trip up Ray Miller felt pretty easy.  Although my stomach was still upset, we were running a lot of the uphill, and it was fun seeing the 18 K leaders coming down the trail.  At the top, I tightened my right shoe for the 2 mile-ish trip down the fire road to the next aid station.  This is when we made our first fairly large mistake of the day.  Even though we were only 10-11 miles into the race, we somehow let ourselves run at a sub 6 minute pace for much of the descent.  Although it didn't hurt at the time (it was actually super fun!) our mistake caught up with us on our way out of Sycamore canyon.  We decided to run the last section of fire road before the Firetrail started, and then recharge as we hiked up the single track.  Although we both said we were feeling good, I think we both knew we were more beat up than we should've been at that stage in the race.  Additionally, the end of the single track is up a super steep section of trail that neither of us were looking forward to climbing.  We pushed on, and hit the 15 Mile mark at around 2 Hrs. and 28 Mins into the race.

We were a little behind our sub 5 hr goal, but at that point we both decided to say "Fuck It" and just run the best race we could from that point on.  At this point, I could feel my 3rd metatarsal in my right foot when I ran.  It's been "dropped" since I got over the plantar fasciitis, and although I'd had some adjustments done by the chiropractor, it dropped again during this race.  Although it didn't cause major pain, the concern would weigh on me for the rest of the race.  It was actually pretty F-ing annoying.  Moving on.

We bombed it down Ray Miller (one of the most beautiful and run-able trails in So-Cal) and got to the aid station feeling pretty good.  I put my shirt back on to try and warm up a bit, and Bowman and I started our ascent back up the La Jolla Canyon trail.  That's when we really started feeling SHITTTTTYYY.  My legs were tired.  Every running step was hard, and I couldn't run for more than 2 minutes at a time uphill.  Maybe less.  Adam was getting lightheaded, and we were passed by a few people, including the 2nd female.  During our ascent up Pt. Mugu Adam told me to leave him, as he was really not feeling well and didn't think he could even run the downs.  I wasn't feeling great myself, but I pushed along into the abyss by myself.  Along the hillside overlooking the ocean I ran into the wind, dealing with the annoyance from my right foot and trying to stay hydrated.  Things weren't great.  I didn't want to run, but there was another guy who had passed me and I decided I wanted to make a race out of it.  Once we got to the slight downhill before the flats, I slowly moved closer behind him before he moved over so I could pass.  I ran ahead of him for the next two miles or so, and then stopped to take a pee.

This is when I knew that things were not so good for old Jorge.  First, peeing was difficult, then when I did my pee looked like Cholula.  Ok, maybe not that bad, but it was orange.  Around this time, the one guy passed me again (yep, while I was "peeing").  I knew I was dehydrated, and had been paying attention/was worried as shit about my water situation for the last few miles.  Well, I was now out of water, and was 2 1/4 miles from the next aid station.  DOUBLE SHIT.  Luckily for me, I had pride and nothing but downhill to keep me going.  I let my legs go and allowed the hill to carry me down.  I passed the one guy and saw people just starting their 3rd loops as I made my way down.

FINALLY!  I arrived at the aid station where CRAIG SLAGEL (the man, the myth, the legend) was dishing out delicious treats and GLORIOUS, GLORIOUS WATER.  He told me that I didn't look so bad, in fact, I'd be fine if I chugged a few bottles of water there at the station before starting my final climb up Ray Miller.  Additionally, my roommate ELYA BEER appeared outta nowhere to cheer me on.  I'd expected my little sisters to show up, but they forgot (what a surprise), so it was a great surprise to have a fan section.  Anyway, the one guy had rolled into the aid station a minute or so after me, and I wanted to get a head start going up Ray Miller.  I tried to leave the aid station looking strong to intimidate him going into the last climb, but I don't think it worked.  About 400 yards up the trail he passed me as I was taking in some calories.  BUMMER.

I asked the one guy how old he was to see if he was in my age group, and in fact he was.  I gave him a little congrats for running strong up the hill, and he replied that he had to get as much of a lead on me as he could while climbing because I would surely pass him on the downhill.  Well, I surely did.  Even though he ran every step of the ascent up Ray Miller (a truly impressive feat after running 26.5 hilly miles) he didn't gain enough distance on me to maintain his lead.  I ended up passing him halfway down the hill, and finished strong in 12th place in 5:46:06.  My legs were quivering, and I was wrecked, but it felt SO SO GOOD.

The Pleasure of Pain

That feeling is one of the things I love the most about running far.  To push through.  To do what I want .  That is freedom.  It gives a sense of confidence in all areas of life.  That regardless of what may happen, you can get through it if you want.  I haven't been in every situation, but I'm sure that practice doesn't hurt.

Sum Up/Longest Post Ever

Greetings, reader!  Ha.  That's corny, but seriously.  Greetings, reader!  In order to completely understand my various forms of weirdness, you need to have an idea of how I got to where I am.  This post is what Inigo Montoya (the guy looking for the six fingered guy in The Princess Bride) would call a Sum-up.

First of all, I'd like to start by saying that this is the most anticipated blog in the history of blogs, and because you're reading it, you are helping make history.  There are few people who actually care what I have to say about stuff, so CONGRATULATIONS!  You are one of the ELITE!. 

HERE'S THE DIRT:
I haven't always been a runner BUT I have always liked adventures.  I used to ride my bike as far away from my house as I could when I was a kid.  I would rollerblade or skateboard far away when I got older.  Stand By Me was my favorite movie.  Well, maybe Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.  Not important.  The point is, I love adventures.  As I've gotten older, though, I've struggled to find ones that are healthy/inexpensive/legal.  Until I learned that I could run far.

I used to like running around when I was a kid.  When I was a teenager, I hated it.  I was on the Tennis team in high school, and the golf team, and the football team.  The worst part about playing sports was having to F'n run.  I was a smoker.  I was out of shape, too.  That was the case throughout high school and for the first year and a half of college.  I got in better shape in college, but was too busy partying to care about my overall health.  I just wanted to look good naked.  I know.  Vanity is unattractive.  So is having a big gut and love handles.  I did it for the ladies.  Any-who! Not important.

When I moved to LA, I continued the unhealthy lifestyle for a while, but eventually my irresponsibility made my life pretty freakin' difficult.  I was having some real problems with pretty basic stuff, like paying rent and affording food.  My girlfriend at the time (how anyone actually put up with me, I don't know) moved to LA to be with me, and I decided that I was going to change my life.  It was for pretty selfish reasons, but nonetheless, it was a choice.  I didn't want to be the reason for problems in my relationship.

I joined a gym and lost a bunch of weight.  I started eating healthy food.  Making my own lunch.  You know, responsible, adult-ish stuff.  Around this time I started to enjoy running again.  I would always push myself to run farther and faster (on the treadmill).  Eventually I started running up Runyon Canyon on the weekends, sometimes TWICE.  Haha.  Then my knee started to hurt, and I had to stop.  I figured, I'm a bigger guy, maybe running and Jorge just don't mix.  So I swam a bunch.  Then I'd hike.  When my knee was better I'd run a little more.  I couldn't commit to it though, because my knee hurt.  I did crossfit for a while, and got in incredible shape.  I was faster and stronger than ever.  But eventually, I got sick of being in a freakin' gym ALL THE TIME.  I started working out less, sleeping in more.  More unhealthy-sh habits.  I didn't completely unwind, but I was in the process.  Wooohoo.

THEN.  Magic happened.  The girl who I became a more responsible person for (now, and at this point in the story, a friend) challenged me to run the LA Marathon.  I can't turn down a challenge.  Especially not from  A GIRL.  So, we decided to train together.

I trained for 6 weeks and did a 17 mile run and a 20 mile run.  I also changed my foot strike to land on my forefoot, as I'd either read somewhere or been told that this was the right way to run.  I got tendonitis in my achilles tendons, but I swam instead of running to get over it and train at the same time.  AND no knee pain!  Race day, I felt solid, and ran a 4:26 Marathon.  Other than the bottoms of my feet hurting, I felt fine after.  Immediately, I thought to myself:  Wasn't this supposed to be a RACE?  Why don't I feel completely SHATTERED?  I must have just not run fast enough.

So a week later I started a solo 16 week training program for the San Francisco Marathon.  I researched a proper mileage buildup and bought a Garmin Forerunner 405, which kept track of my pace/heart rate/everything possible.  I got some new running clothes at Top to Top (Running store), and started running 5 days a week.  One of my customers saw a picture of me running, and saw how pale my legs were, and that's how I got my nickname ("White Lightning" -- LESLIE COHN is an amazing girl, and she had custom headbands and wristbands made for me, which I wear for every race and most training runs).  Anyway, I was running a lot, and enjoying it.  I set a very ambitious goal of knocking an hour off my Marathon time.  Running the streets was better than the treadmill, but the loops started getting old.  And the city streets sorta made me feel dirty.  Dirty like a bum's undies.  Around this time, Garrett from Top to Top recommended that I try running with a group called the "Coyotes".  This group of trail running enthusiasts meets every Thursday in the SM Mountains to run trails with their fearless leader, Jimmy Dean Freeman.

"White Lightning"

I liked the trail runs, but they started at 6 AM (BALLS EARLY), and I didn't like driving back and forth from Hollywood to S.M. twice in one day.  I stuck with the streets most of the time.  I had a hip injury during this training period and had to take some time off, and ended up buying a pair of Vibram Five Fingers shoes.  I also read the book "Born to Run" (very inspirational, and yes, I know EVERYBODY has read this book).  Combining some theory from the book with my new weirdo shoes, I changed my stride and was able to run without hip pain again.  I think this may have been when I started going nuts.  I'd read about Ultra-Marathoners in the book and I'd heard some Coyotes talking about ultra-marathons they were doing.  I even started reading complete strangers' race reports (I know that seems weird/stalker-esque.  that's because IT IS).  Running really freakin' far started sounding not only not crazy, but fun.  I ran the SF Marathon and finished in 3:55:58.  Although it was half an hour slower than my total awesomeness goal, it was still half an hour better than LA.  AND it beat my slight awesomeness goal of a sub 4 hour finish.  I went for a hike in Muir Woods the next day and couldn't stop thinking about running the trails I was walking on.

I came back to LA and heard that some of the Coyotes were training for a race called the "Bulldog 50k".  I asked Jimmy about it, and he said I could definitely do it, but maybe the 25k would be better since I just ran the marathon the week before.  I decided to do the 50k, though.  Go big or go home, right?  He suggested that I do back to back loops on the race course (15.5 Saturday, 15.5 Sunday) so I did.  As I had to work at 9 AM that Saturday, I had to be finished with this challenging loop by 8 AM, so I started running at 5AM.  RIDICULOUS. 

After my first Bulldog training loop.  That's blood.

HOWEVER - Being on a trail by myself and reaching the top of the cloudline while the sun came up was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.  I fell in love with trail running.  I finished 25th overall at Bulldog, and 5th in my division.  Although I could barely walk because of the plantar fasciitis that I had the next day, I knew that I'd had a special experience.

Over the last few months I've been getting over injuries.  After I beat the P.F. (BOO-YA   Plantar, you're now officially my bitch!  j.k.  please don't come back), another foot problem came up which was explained by my doctor as "some type of itis" (yes, I paid a medical doctor, and that was his diagnosis) in the soft tissue on the top of my foot.  The pain was so bad that I took an entire month off from running.  I swam 5 days a week to stay in shape, and waited for the opportunity to run again.  That opportunity came when I went to Fountain Hills, AZ.  I had gone out to crew some fellow Coyotes for a 100 mile race they were running (Javelina Jundred), and hadn't planned on doing any running at all.  I didn't even bring running clothes (which I learned is never smart when you go somewhere w/Coyotes).

Sunset over Javelina Jundred

On a Saturday night in the middle of a desert, a woman came by our tent looking for a pacer for her husband, Mark Kirkby.  Mark had a few of his pacers bail out the day before the race, and the lone pacer that showed up for him needed a rest after pacing his 5th loop.  As I hadn't run in a month, I didn't say anything, but about 15 minutes later Jimmy convinced me to pace.  I borrowed some running SHORTS from Jimmy, and a jacket and socks, and paced Mark for his 6th loop (15.5 miles).  It was an incredible experience.  Mark ended up beating his time from 2009, and placed 16th overall in his 2nd hundred.

Mt. Wilson in the Clouds

Since that weekend, I've been training for my next race.  I'm running the Santa Monica 50K this weekend, and am hoping to beat my time from Bulldog and finish top 10.  My training has been solid the last couple of weeks, with my foot pain almost completely gone.  I'm descending better than ever, and my stride feels smooth and natural.  My training partner (Adam Bowman) and I are shooting for a sub-5 hour finish.  First ever race report will be here in a couple of weeks, as well as some photos from my training.

La Jolla Canyon Trail looking South over PCH