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Admittedly, I am way behind on the Born to Run bandwagon. While this book was sweeping through the running community and Vibram’s five-fingered-footwear was making its way onto runner’s soles (even infiltrating my RTB team), I wasn’t interested enough to pick up my own copy. The impression I got from those who told me I needed to read this book was that it was a 280 page argument for running barefoot. I understood the argument, but wasn’t much interested I suppose. It didn’t sound that entertaining.

Kevin, my RTB Warrior teammate sports his Vibrams

I spotted McDougall’s book in the Hudson News bookstore at JFK right before yet another flight. I was actually searching for “The Conservative Soul” because I had forgotten my copy on my last flight and was only 30 pages in. They didn’t have a copy, so I picked up “Born to Run” and hey, from its description and praises on the back, it seemed more like an adventure story than a lecture on proper running mechanics. I love me a good running adventure story (check out Bart Yasso’s “My Life on The Run” for some great inspiration) and sometimes I do need to be reminded why I love running so much (like when I come to the realization that my calf has been nagging me for SIX MONTHS).

I loved this book.

I could probably sing the reasons at the top of my lungs via this blog and not spoil it for anyone, since I’m probably the last of my running friends who have read it. But still, I won’t just in case. I do want to mention how loaded this book is with anthropology, which I thoroughly enjoyed. It was one of my many almost-minors in college. I’m not taking everything the author says as gospel, even though I would love to. But it has spurred me into doing further research on my own- looking at my stride, checking out persistence hunting, and growing Latin grains in my backyard.

If you’re looking for a great resource on the grains described in Born to Run, check out my friend and fellow runner, Ana Sophia Pelaez’s article and interview with McDougall.

The persistence hunting will have to wait until I’m back in shape.

The Godfathers

As for my stride… As MacDougall described his quest for an answer to his foot pain, I felt empowered to start an exploration of my own with my calf pain. The Calendar had dipped into April by that time, five and a half months since the calf became an issue. I wasn’t satisfied with what my doctor had told me. Of course I was thrilled it wasn’t a stress fracture, and he did give me some clues, as did Michael at Finishline PT and Mark Thompson, my newly acquired acupuncturist. Mark, who is also a PT, suggested I get orthotics. He took one look at my right foot, saw how my arch collapsed, and made the call right away. I was ready to try it immediately. I was ready to try anything really.

But Macdougall led me in a different direction- natural running. I began “practicing” a midfoot strike in my hotel room shortly after my plan landed. And even before finishing his book, I ordered three more.

* The Pose Method of Running by Dr. Nicholas Romanov
* Natural Running by Danny Abshire
* Chi Running by Danny Dreyer

Dr. Nicholas Romanov

I started with Dr. Romanov’s Pose method, which describes running as a skill activity, just as skiing or even dance is. These activities are taught with a series of poses and movements. Ballet has great examples with first position, second position, etc. In skiing, those who were trained may recall french fries and pizza. Romanov states that there is a running pose that we all strike when performing the act of running properly. He also stressed that a runner should allow gravity to work for us.

Danny Abshire

Danny Abshire explained to me why “traditional” running shoes were no good. He criticized the raised heel and pronation control. The raised heel, designed to cushion the heel upon impact, interfered with our ability to land properly and naturally on our forefoot or midfoot. The pronation control in these heel striking shoes, only exasperated the unnatural heel striking stride. Abshire explained how the lower body is a natural spring and that heel striking with a straight leg negates this physiological feature.

Danny Dreyer

Danny Dreyer believes that chi plays a crucial part in good running form. If you don’t know what chi is, you obviously haven’t seen enough kung fu movies and we cannot be friends. Dreyer defines Chi as “energy – the life giving, vital energy that unites body, mind and spirit.” This energy flows through our body, but only when our body is properly aligned and we are receptive to it. Sounds hokey? You must be a Westerner. He stressed posture above all, as well as relaxing and running tension free.

These three runners, coaches- and yeah, I’ll say it- godfathers of this natural running resurgence (my godfathers, at least) have lots of common threads in their theories and practices. As a matter of fact, Abshire receives praise from Dreyer and Romanov on the back of his book and Abshire sites Dreyer and Romanov repeatedly in his text. Their shared intent is to make running easier, and injury free. I won’t attempt to summarize their writings any further than saying each believes strongly in mid/forefoot strikes, “proper” footwear, proper posture, and letting gravity help out while you run.

Weapons of Choice

As I read these books, I began testing a sampling footwear that I felt these coaches would recommend based on their arguments. The Runblogger was a huge help. Also, via his site, you can receive a nice 10% discount at Runningwarehouse.com. He has a great post reviewing a ton of minimalist shoes and regularly reviews new equipment.

The qualities I was looking for in a shoe are:

Low or no heel rise (zero drop)
If your heels are raised to far above your forefoot, your posture actually changes to compensate. Also, you put more stress on your calves. And midfoot striking is more difficult (heel striking is encouraged). Most “traditional” running shoes have heels that rise more than 10mm.

Minimal “traditional” stability qualities
The stability built into “traditional” shoes assume a heel strike. If I were to land on my mid/forefoot, their intent of stabilizing my over pronation would be neutralized.

Minimal cushioning & Flexible Sole
Now, I don’t mean barefoot running here. I just mean that I want to feel the road. This one has always been a requirement of mine. But the authors argue that the nerves in your feet communicate with the rest of your body, instructing it how to move. If they cannot feel the road, what you get is “stupid feet”.

Sampling: Brooks Mach 12, Newton Distance, Merrell Trail Glove

After reading a bunch of reviews and ordering 6 pairs of shoes to try in my apartment, I settled on two.

The Altra Instinct
It’s got zero drop (meaning the heel is no higher than the forefoot), moderate cushioning, is flexible, and has a roomy toe box. Altra is a start up shoe company. Those stores that are stocking them are having a hard time keeping up with demand. I ended up ordering mine from a running store in Miami.

Merrell Trail Glove
Also zero drop, roomy toe box, but these puppies have no cushioning, only a 4mm sole to protect you from rocks.

I want to stress that I am not going barefoot. The Altras have been working well for me because they protect my feet like traditional shoes, but allow by feet and biomechanics to work as they “naturally” should. They are a great compromise shoe. The Merrells are very minimal, but I am only using those in small doses as a tool to strengthen my feet.

The winners: Merrell Trail Glove and Altra Instinct

Form, Form, Form…

My transition to midfoot strikes began the first Saturday in April. I’m 5 weeks in now and still working on it. It hasn’t been easy. The godfathers all suggest disassociating the transition with result oriented goals. In other words, do it in the off season when you don’t have to worry about speed or mileage. Each of these natural running books offer a program to get you transitioned over, but I haven’t committed to any single one. I’ve been trying ideas from all of them. Probably just in the past week, things started clicking on a consistent basis. I still cannot do all the things I used to- speed work is a challenge as is carrying a back pack while I run- because I have trouble maintaining proper form.

I blamed my lack of form for my calf injury in my last blog entry and I stand by that accusation. As a coach, this is the one thing I stress the most with my runners. All of us TNT coaches do. I remember Lisa, Jim, Michael, and Ramon doing the same to me when I was just starting off back in the day. Runners World has an interesting article on the topic in the latest issue (while you’re there check out an article my friend the infamous MP was quoted in concerning BQing).

Posture is also stressed heavily by the godfathers. And though they heavily favor mid/forefoot striking, they recognize that a runner- from beginners to elites- can get away with heel striking while remaining healthy and quite speedy. I ran for two years- two marathons, a few half marathons, two RTB relay races, and tons of short races with training probably totaling 1,500 miles- without a running injury. In fact, I recovered from chronic patella tendonitis during this time. Yup, running, even heel striking, *helped* my knees.

Fellow Warrior Erin (aka Lady Southpaw) showing off her pretty much perfect form

This transition I am undertaking is a personal one. As I’ve tried to take my running to “the next level” (in my case, I wanted to be faster), I got injured frequently. And it was because I wasn’t holding good form with the speed increase. I’ve found new shoes, but they’re not magical shoes that will protect me from injury and make me fast. These shoes, I hope, will just be tools that will help me hold proper running posture, and sustain it for the duration of my runs (it’s why I do all that core work too). The same goes for all those wacky barefoot runners out there. Shedding shoes isn’t a magic fix- the intent is to *force* a runner to run with better form, otherwise he will end up with a stress fracture.

If you heel strike, you can’t go minimalist. You have to protect that heel. But it doesn’t have to be a huge heel. Asics DS Trainers, a stability shoe (that I used and logged over a thousand miles in) has a heel rise of about 8-9mm. Not bad. Nike Frees have maybe a 7mm rise, but no stability element. Saucony is releasing more and more low drop shoes in the 4-5mm range including their latest version of the Grid Fastwitch witch has a stability element. Runningwarehouse.com will give you this stat on each shoe you search for. But if you’re getting into the shoes for the first time, I still recommend trying them on at your local running shop, such as our friends at JackRabbit who even have a treadmill you can take the shoes for a spin on. How they feel other than this heel rise issue (too narrow? cramped toes?) is absolutely important. And again, shoes are just a tool for you to sustain proper form. Listen to your body.

If you’re reading this far into my blog, it’s probably because you’re a runner. And If I know you, you’ve probably already heard me preach these things a million times, but I might as well at least list these important running form points:
* Keep your back straight and don’t lean too much.
* Shorten your stride length (except for you Suzy) and aim for a cadence of 180bpm
* Soft steps
* Feet pointed straight ahead
* Keep relaxed, lose the tension in your shoulders and back
* Neat arm swings, 90 degree bend
* etc…

And of course, listen to your coach.

Shout Out
This summer season of Team in Training has been excellent. Our runners have graduated from hill training and are on to speed work and pacing. I’m proud and excited.

Shout out to my Team in Training peeps, Summer 2011

Back to my calf… What started out as a strained soleus muscle (lower calf) turned out to also be an issue with my posterior tibial tendon. This particular tendon connects at the bottom of my foot, wraps around my ankle, and heads north to my upper calf. So was it both? Was it the tendon the whole time? Did one injury cause the other? Reflecting back on the issues I had last fall, I’m guessing it was both. But while the muscle healed in probably a matter of a couple weeks, this lingering tendon issue has kept me sidelined.

So what caused all this? Probably a perfect storm of miscalculated decisions on my part. Let’s rehash them, shall we?

I got fast. I got lazy.
I experienced quite a speed boost in 2010. It wasn’t so much that my fastest time was much faster than it ever was. It was more that I was running faster times more often and more consistently. And if you look at snapshots of me in mid air, I am over-striding like a clown. I got careless with my stride form, perhaps due to a certain pair of Mizuno Inspires shoes with what felt like huge heels. But really, I’ve just got me to blame. I had a few bouts with shin splints last year and my calves were regularly tight. I should have made a more conscious effort to retain a more balanced stride, rather than getting lazy about it while focusing on speed.

Great example of my peg-leg landing

Ghost 3? Ghost me.
I love the Brooks Ghost 3 shoe. It really feels great to run in. But it is a neutral shoe and I pronate slightly. Actually, I pronate quite a bit on my right side. But I ran in them anyways. About 600 miles of running in neutral shoes. That caught up with me in October. This, I believe, was the direct cause of the tendon issue. I had run in neutral shoes in the past. And I had never had such an issue, even though I pronate. What changed last year was the volume and speed at which I ran. Cut 30 miles off of that total and I would not have reached the point that it became an issue. It’s cumulative. Add the fact that my ugly stride had me impacting the ground with greater force and well, crap. So now I’m running in Brooks Revenna 2 (or Adrenaline GTS 11). And I’m wearing insoles in my walking shoes/sneakers until I heal up.

Sore calves and my passive attitude.
My calves were fairly tight throughout the late summer and fall. I took extra time stretching them, occasionally rolled them, and regularly talked about getting them worked on by a sports massage therapist. But I never saw said therapist, I just talked about it. So two things here- The fact that my calves were so tight should have absolutely been a clue that something wasn’t quite right. I did buy new shoes rather early (with about 250 miles logged on them rather than 300+), because I detected an issue. But when that didn’t solve it, what did I do? Not enough. I should have gotten that massage. I should have thought, “Hmm, getting new shoes hasn’t helped as much as I thought it would. Perhaps something else is happening here that I need to pay more attention to.”

Pre-blizzard run with the gang

My Doc has given me a green light to start running, advised me to go slower than usual, and put me on an anti-inflammatory regimen of Advil and ice. We are a month into Summer Season 2011 with Team in Training, and I am a training captain once again and loving it. I spent this evening working on my running calendar and training schedule- something I haven’t done since last year- and it felt great. I’m not a fan of routine, but I seriously can’t wait to get back into one with my running addiction.

Somewhere after mile 18, MP paces me as I fight the pain.

Sources
These are the three primary sources I tapped. Thanks to the original authors and to all that have contributed to these theories I learned about.

health.howstuffworks.com
Active.com
Lore of Running, by Dr. Timothy Noakes

Muscle Cramps
A muscle cramp happens when your muscles involuntarily contract and/or expand when they are not supposed to. You’ll generally notice this happening because it hurts like hell. Sometimes you can actually see the muscle spasm under your skin. There are only “theories” about what causes them. That basically means the scientific community isn’t satisfied by the method of “proving” the causes. There are lots of anecdotes and little controlled clinical studies using the scientific method- you know, that thing we all learned in middle school chemistry class where some of you burned your hair with Bunsen burners.

The sports related theories are as follows:

Excess use of muscles/lack of conditioning- You work your muscles so much, firing off your neurons, contracting and expanding, to the point of which they are incapable of doing it any longer.

Dehydration/electrolyte depletion- Your body needs water and an appropriate balance of electrolytes to function.

Injury Defense- Something is injured and the muscle around the injury cramps in an attempt to protect it.

My cramps were not caused by injury, and based on the training that I did, I’m not willing to say I was under-conditioned for the race pace I set. So let’s focus on the electrolytes.

Hurting. Me and that guy in the foreground too.

Electrolytes
Electrolytes are electrically charged ions that can move to either a positive or negative charge mainly do to the gain or loss of protons in its atomic structure. These electrolytes are important because your body uses these guys to carry electrical impulses throughout your body, including from your brain to your muscles. Cool, huh? So if you are electrolyte depleted, electrical pulses will not be carried properly and your muscles will not contract and/or expand when you ask them to. An individual needs about 8,000mg per day to function normally. Keep that figure in mind.

The main body electrolytes are:
* sodium (Na+)
* potassium (K+)
* chloride (Cl-)
* calcium (Ca2+)
* magnesium (Mg2+)
* bicarbonate (HCO3-)
* phosphate (PO42-)
* sulfate (SO42-)

Sodium and Chloride make up the majority of these electrolytes. They also form table salt (NaCl) when combined. Potassium is another that I will mention. The two primary electrolytes responsible for water content control in and out of cells in the body are sodium and potassium. While sodium generally exists outside the cell, potassium is found inside. Because of this, it is mainly sodium that is lost while sweating. The concentration of electrolytes differs by each individual and is also dependent on acclimation to climate condition. I’ll be using average amount and assume the individual is acclimated.

Holding the line... the cramps will not beat me (just slow me down).

Mole to Mg Conversion
Does anyone remember how to do this from high school chemistry class? It’s been a while. Sorry Mr. Zentz. I remember that a mole is a mole is a mole, as you used to say, but couldn’t remember what the hell that meant. I had to look it up and still I cannot get my math to work out.

A mole (mol, or mmol for one thousandth of a mole ) can be converted to grams by multiplying the average atomic weight of the molecule by the mol amount. But I think other factors, such as ionization are important (ie, counting the extra protons). Rather than trying to teach you and myself this, I will be using the figures given in the Lore of Running book, by Dr. Tim Noakes.

Average electrolyte contents of sweat and blood.

Sweat Rate
So how much do we actually sweat? This is very individual. Again, assuming acclimation, the average runner sweats at lets say 1 liter per hour. Based on this, a runner could lose 1840mg of sodium and 100mg of potassium per hour. If you’ve never had problems with electrolytes during your runs, then this blog probably isn’t really that interesting to you and you probably fit into this average. Alberto Salazar was recorded to sweat at a rate of 3.7 liters per hour. Yikes.

To measure your sweat rate, weigh yourself right before you run. Then run, and weigh yourself right after. One pound lost equals 15.4oz (.455 liters) of sweat. If you drink water during your run, be sure to add that as well.

So the last time I weighed myself before and after a run was in the spring of 2009. I lost 8lbs on a 90 minute run and drank about 12oz of water on my run.

8lbs= 3.64 liters of sweat
12oz of water = .4 liters
That adds up to about 4 liters of sweat in 90 minutes.
And that calculates to a rate of about 2.67 liters per hour.

Yup, I sweat a lot.

Turning on to Park Ave South, tasting the forgiveness.

Absorption Rate
So we should just take in the same amount of water and electrolytes as we lose? No. Definitely not. Ideally you’ll take in just enough to get you through the race and you can replenish the rest after. You know, so you stop less and carry less water. But there are other factors to consider, such as absorption rate. Our bodies can only process so much at a time- there is a limit to the amount of water, electrolytes, and calories we can take in per hour.

What is that limit? I’m glad you asked. Again, it is individual. And there are different theories about what the body is capable of. It is thought that combining the right ratios of water, carbohydrates, and electrolytes will will optimize absorption. Check out this theorized ideal combo:

Sorry I didn’t calculate the mg of Carbs from the mmol figure above, but the source didn’t give its chemical equation. Studies show that because these different elements are absorbed in different places in the digestive track (ie, water in the stomach) the ratio changes as digestion happens. This actually allows for even higher rates of absorption. Anyone else out there think that’s kind of cool? To find your individual rate, all I can offer is trial and error. Just see what you can do, within the scope of what you need to do (ie, don’t try to drink a gallon of salt water if you’re not showing signs of dehydration and electrolyte depletion).

Now compare the electrolyte content of sweat and the absorption rates and ratios to the electrolyte amounts in popular sports drinks. Since sodium is the primary electrolyte lost, let’s focus on it.

Lacking, huh? I want to give props to Gatorade for even starting this trend of electrolyte replenishment. But they’re not going to change their formula if it makes their drink taste bad (or worse than it already does). Above is the figure for their endurance formula. Their normal stuff is much worse. From these figures, one could easily argue the content should be at least twice what it is. So I take salt, as I’m sure many of you do. And I drink V8 regularly during the week and for recovery- criticized for high sodium content, this is quite ideal for runners, as is the tons of potassium and other goodies.

Aldosterone: Less is more?
How one should preemptively take in electrolytes is debated. Your body regulates your electrolyte balance with something called aldosterone. If you need electrolytes, aldosterone will up the amount in your body. If you have too much, it will turn off. So eating salty foods encourages the aldosterone to stop doing its job. And you are potentially acting against your own natural physiology. But when exercising, you lose more electrolytes than your body can manage.

How do we reconcile this? Again, I’m not finding a definitive answer. My advice would be that if you take in electrolytes early, you should continue to do so throughout your run and after, restoring your levels “manually” while your aldosterone kicks back in. And at the appropriate ratios too.

Victory. But I know I have an even better time in me.

Mistakes and Lessons

So here’s the math of my 2010 NYC Marathon. At a sweat rate of 2.67 liters per hour, I was losing 4,913mg of sodium per hour. I was taking in about 300mg of sodium per hour via Gatorade & Gu up until I took in 1,500mg of salt (perhaps 2/3 of which is sodium versus 1/3 of which is chloride) at mile 15. I reached mile 16 in about 2 hours and that’s when the cramps started.

Me by mile 16:
9,826mg of sodium lost
1,600mg of sodium gained
That equates to approx 8,200mg net sodium lost
Remember the amount needed daily for normal body function? About 8,000mg.
Oops.

The average sweaty person would have lost about 4,000mg of sodium netting a loss of 2400mg. Manageable. I should have taken in more sodium and sooner. There’s still a concern that my absorption rate may not be able to handle it- my feet may be too fast for my digestion. Kind of funny. But only kind of. I ‘ll have to test this. But even if I was average and took in 2,800mg of sodium per liter of water per hour, I should be perfectly fine in the marathon distance.

Something else… Coconut water, loaded with potassium but little sodium, isn’t the ultimate electrolyte gift from God I thought it was. I thought sodium and potassium were interchangeable, but as you and I now know, they are not. I drank a lot of it thinking I was prepping appropriately. For electrolytes lost via sweat, salt rules.

And my final lesson… I am a really big running geek. Oh wait…. I already knew that.

So now I take a break, letting my calf heal properly from the injury that was probably caused by cramping 2 weeks before the NYC Marathon. Hopefully by late December I will be able to apply some of these theories, and by May put all this science to the test. Look out Fargo 2011. Here I come.

“Your calf feels more like a pull.” Leslie, my sports massage therapist broke the news to me. I had hoped it was just a knot of some sort that needed to be worked out. I walked gingerly home and took the prescribed epsom salt bath, pondering how my week would go. The compression socks I ordered arrived that day. I would spend most of that week in them. I wouldn’t be running until if felt better or the marathon Sunday came, which ever was first. I had 8 days. By Tuesday it did not feel better, so I made an appointment at Finishline PT to get some more advice. Coach Michael has helped me through other injuries and events, including last year’s NYC Marathon, and I was counting on the same magic.

Rocking the expo with Syed, Jim, and Elvis

“I don’t feel any scar tissue or separation in your muscle,” Coach Michael declaired. This was fairly good news. Was my pain just in my head? Definitely not. But it implied the injury was minor. I asked about permanent damage. I was really hoping to be pain free by Sunday, but worst case scenario- if I were to run on it, would I do any permanent damage? “No. You’ll be fine. You’ll just feel pain. It may warm up and go away.” Relief.

“You know what you should do? Dunk your whole leg in ice for 25 minutes every day until the race. That’s what I would do.” Bart Yasso has quite a bit of experience running through pain, so I heeded his advice. I stopped by the Runner’s World booth to purchase my own copy of his book and get it signed. I couldn’t help but mention my ailment. I went home that night and wrapped my calf with a large ice pack and did that again on Friday. Saturday, I did it 3 times.

Icing le calf on Saturday night

Sunday I woke up with my calf aching. Not good. But oh well. With Finishline’s blessing, I had no intention of sitting this one out. I got into my gear, and my “throw-away” warm clothes, grabbed my bag, and headed out the door toward the park to meet the Team bus that would take us to Staten Island. I was calm. I had been for a few days. Friends had asked if I was excited and I would hesitate a bit and say either “yes” or “no”. You know, I was excited, but I wasn’t jumping out of my shoes in excitement. Riding that bus toward the Verrazano Bridge felt familiar. I reflected a bit on just how calm I felt. This would be my 4th marathon, my 2nd NYC marathon. Am I getting used to this type of thing? I’m not quite sure that was it. I couldn’t put my finger on it. It just felt right, like I belonged on that bus. I should be going to Staten Island on Marathon Sunday. What else would I do?

I chatted with some of the other participants on the bus. Murph, a leukemia survivor was aiming for a 3:30 finish. He was capable of going faster, but he factored in some family-hugging time. John, another survivor, was going for sub 3 hours. I admired both of their goals and race plans and admired their strength on so many levels. Their perspective on the race was optimistic. No matter what, it was going to be a great day. And their character- these two guys fought their battle with leukemia, and then joined TNT to fundraise and encourage others. To top it off, they were both quite athletic.

Pre race lunch included jelly fish, cow stomach, roast pig, beef noodles, clams, chinese broccoli and more

We arrived at Marathon Village and before the team separated into their assigned color corrals, we exchanged hugs and good luck greetings. My group, green, settled on a nice patch of asphalt while we awaited our starting times. I was in wave 1 and would start off at 9:40. My plan was to finish in 3 hours and ten minutes, recover while walking to my bag truck at the finish, meet my family, eat a sandwich, and get my ass back out onto the course before our team’s waive 2 runners passed mile 23.5. No problem.

I sat on my sleeping bag, closed my eyes, and visualized the race for the last time. I played it out in my head, knowing I’d have to deal with some pain, mentally pulling back in the beginning so that I wouldn’t go out to fast, knowing that the end would be tough and I’d have to “hold the line”. That’s my mantra when running hard. Hold the line. It was soon time to line up at the start.

All bundled up, TNT waits patiently for the start.

In corral 6, I started taking off my many layers. First, off came the socks, then my sweat pants and the jacket. I had actually gone out and bought new sweatpants and a new jacket just to toss. Last year I was shivering because I didn’t have enough warm clothes. I don’t really have much in my closet I’m willing to part with. I didn’t want to make the same mistake again. I spent $17 on the winter coat and $7 on the sweatpants. And I ditched them where nyrr would pick them up and donate them. It was a well valued $24 donation.

I warmed up my calf a bit. It was tender. I contemplated taking the ibuprofen in my pocket, but didn’t do it. I looked around, sizing up the runners around me. It’s not really a competition against them- I’m not gonna win this thing- but I was wondering if they were the type that goes out too fast? Are the conservative in the beginning like I planned to be? You can’t really tell by looking, but I was trying. I was truly excited now. The gun went off and 52 seconds later I was crossing the start line. 52 seconds. I can honestly say that there was a point in the race where I was only 52 seconds behind the winner.

Steve captures me as I approach my family and friends on 4th ave.

My first mile split was 8:20- slower than I was planning which was great. Usually I find myself going too fast. Mile 2 was 7:10. That’s right on target. Up Fourth Avenue I was averaging about 7:20 which was a bit faster than I had planned- I was going for 7:25- but it’s Fourth Ave! With all the cheering and being on my home turf, that I was only about 5 seconds faster on average wasn’t too bad. Anthony and Shannon brought their son Braden to cheer all the way from the Jersey shore. Steve and Vicki brought their boy to support me as well. Lisa and Amanda also made it out. And my family came down from upstate to be there for me. Not to mention the TNT cheering! Wow! I saw Robyn at 6th Street and Laura at Baltic. That stretch, I ran a 7:05 split. Sure, it was too fast, but on average I did a good job reigning myself in and never hit my lactic threshold. Things were going quite well… kind of.

That calf of mine ached from the very first step. Specifically, it was painful when I landed on my midsole. I found myself heel striking immediately. Well, more than heel striking- I could feel the impact reverberate in my legs with every step. It was more like heel pounding. It wasn’t the Verrezano shaking; it was me. This did not bode well. I was killing my quads and favoring one side. I had to force myself to land more on my midsole- where it hurt. Getting into a consistent rhythm, while doing this, was difficult. I naturally wanted to avoid pain, of course. That’s when Lady Southpaw’s song “Every Step Together” popped in my head and stayed there throughout most of the race. At 166 beats per minute, it was helping me find a more efficient stride- almost as if the artist created it that way on purpose (she did). It established a rhythm that I couldn’t on my own and distracted me from the pain of each footfall.

TNT pumps me up!

Somewhere in Williamsburg, while Melka was hanging from a lamp post firing off an air horn in support, I was contemplating abandoning my goal. My legs were not feeling as fresh as they should have. After the Lafayette Street hill, around mile 9, my intention was to drop down to 7:10 splits. It wasn’t happening as easily as I was hoping. As I approached the Polaski Bridge and the half way point, I decided to back off. Today wasn’t going to be the day. I’ll still finish strong, just not a 3:10. Perhaps a 3:15.

I flew through Queens, passing more TNT stations and seeing Coach Steve. “How’s it going?” he asked me.

“I’m tired.” I replied with a smile.

“Well you look great!” I don’t know if he was sincere, but the encouragement felt good. As planned, I took it easy on the Queensboro Bridge. After cresting, I ingested a bunch of salt. This bridge, in my mind, is the defining point of the course. If you survive it, you’ll be ok. Well, maybe it’s not just me. Haile Gebrselassie had to pull up here because of his tendinitis. I think he knew it too. He didn’t survive. It was after the bridge, on my way up First Avenue, where my legs began cramping last year. Proactively, I drank more Gatorade early in the course and took in a lot of salt on the bridge, picking up speed as I descended.

Then, on First Avenue, my legs started cramping.

“What the hell?” I thought to myself. “What have I done wrong?” I still don’t have the answer to that. Though I took in more fluid and electrolytes than I did last year, my legs were cramping even earlier in the race. I slowed down. I was expecting to find my family along First Avenue, so I used that as a mental excuse to why I was going slower. I was nervous. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. I looked for their faces. “What am I going to do?” I looked for their signs. “Where’s the next water station?” I couldn’t find them. “I’m going to miss them…”

Suddenly MP popped out on the course. “Hey man, how’s it going?” This is the same MP I did the NPT hike with. The same MP I planned on doing Boston with. The same MP that I will be doing Comrades with. And he lives in Berkeley, CA. He has a habit of showing up three thousand miles away when least expected. He does it so much it’s not really a surprise any more. He’s crazy. I love this guy.

“Hey MP. I’m hurting.” He ran with me. I needed it. Just as I did last year, I started double fisting water and Gatorade. I have to keep these cramps at bay. It was just my left hamstring at first, but soon, both hamstrings, both calves, and my left quad were all cramping. That original calf issue? Yeah, I didn’t feel that anymore.

Coach Pete ran with us a bit heading up to The Bronx. I received cheers all the way up First Avenue from a bunch of familiar and friendly faces. It’s a pretty amazing thing, being part of TNT and running in NYC. I felt like the mayor. I felt like everyone in town knew me. It really was great support.

MP kept me moving forward at a fairly consistent pace of 8:00 per mile, maybe a bit slower than that. I had stopped looking at my watch miles ago. I was fighting those cramps as best I could, but didn’t think I could maintain till the end. As we approached the 5th Avenue Bridge, I let MP know I was going to stop and stretch just after the 21 mile marker. This is where I stopped a year ago to talk with my legs and I was going to do it again.

“Thanks guys. You’re doing great. We’ll figure this out.” I was thinking about why I was cramping so badly. “I gonna push you. I need to you hold on. Hold the line.” I had no intention of backing off as I had last year. My energy level was good. I wasn’t breathing hard, my legs didn’t feel heavy. They were just seizing up. MP waited patiently as I had my two minute stretch session and pep talk. Starting again was hard, but I managed to find a rhythm after a few minutes. MP hung with me until 111th Street. He had a flight to catch. Yeah, he arrived Saturday night and was flying out Sunday evening. He came in running shoes and a fuel belt loaded with amenities. He came for me, just in case I needed him. Did I mention I love this guy?

More friendly faces and TNT cheers along First Avenue encouraged me to finish strong. I pushed up the incline at mile 23 and then started looking for my family. I had missed them on First Avenue, MP confirmed. They were out there for me. I had to be sure to see them. And there they were, at 91st Street, looking for me. I ran by waiving and calling for them, but they didn’t see or hear me. So I stopped, and walked back to them.

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” I said nonchalantly.

“Where did you come from?!” My sister asked in surprise.

“You know, just hanging around.” I walked up to my mom and gave her a big hug. I was inspired my Murph. This was a good idea. I greeted all of my family and thanked them for being here. “Ok, I’m gonna go finish this thing.”

“Do you want the pain killer stuff?” My sister called out. I had her hold some capsaicin just in case.

“No. There’s no holding back the pain now!” I thanked her anyways and took off.

I found the line and I held onto it, pulling harder and running faster. These cramps would not stop me. I was determined. I looked into the crowds and listened to the cheers for TNT. Central Park South was amazing, packed with people supporting us. I was passing a lot of runners- the exact opposite of last year. That felt good. I saw the 800 meter sign. “Yasso,” I thought to myself. I could do this last stretch in 3 minutes if I hold the line. I picked up the pace. The cramps were quite strong, but I was stronger. 400 Meters. We turned into Central Park and that last bit of a hill greeted us. I greeted it back by running faster. I could see the clock at the finish. I ran even faster. I looked up and took in the crowd. I raised my arms in victory as I crossed the finish line.

“Yeah!” I clapped my hands together in approval of the accomplishment and exchanged pleasantries with the runners who finished next to me. I immediately thought to myself, “I want to do this again next year.”

——————–

Recovering with John P.

It took quite a while for my legs to stop cramping. After retrieving my bag, I happened to find John from my Warriors team. He had also just finished and was recovering. I sat with him for a spell, changed into my TNT Coach shirt and made my way to where my family was waiting. I couldn’t run. Walking was challenging. There was no way I could get on the course and run with any participants. But after meeting up with my family and eating a ham sandwich, I stayed on the course to cheer and support. By this time, I had missed all of waive 2 and the beginning of waive three.

I didn’t leave the park until 7 pm or so, cheering on those still finishing up their marathon and waiting on a couple TNT participants from Brooklyn, Carmen and Jenique. It was a long day, but a triumphant one. I’m proud to have been part of this TNT season.

————

Our San Francisco Nike Women’s Marathon and Half Marathon participants have returned with triumphant tales of guts, glory, and firemen in tuxedos. That fateful Sunday morning in the Bay area, they faced fog and rain. I and many of our teammates waited in anticipation of news. And we received it almost as it happened via text messages and facebook. It’s a pretty amazing thing, this facebook. I was fairly opposed to it back in January. Coach Lisa convinced me to give it a shot because it had developed into such a great communication device specifically for TNT. And I can say I’m thankful for it. Just moments ago, Brian posted a pre race video from Dublin. Pretty sweet.

The latest charity poker night was a success!

We are three events down, three to go. Our Dublin runners are lining up at the start line as I type this. I’ll be cheering from London, literally screaming “Go Team!” I’m sure the Brits will think I’m just another overzealous crazy American. I’d rather be on the streets of Dublin, but oh well. I gotta make a living too. Running doesn’t pay the bills. How can I make that happen? Hmmm.

————

Saturday’s GTS covered the last 10ish miles of the NYC Marathon course. We skipped The Bronx because the Willis Avenue Bridge isn’t open to foot traffic. So I didn’t see the spot of my infamous conversation with my legs from 2009. Our run took us over the 59th street bridge and back, then up 1st Avenue to 125th street, and over to 5th Avenue to meet the remainder of the course. I ran the majority of it with Erin. She’s great company- much better company than my cramping hamstrings were a year ago. We went along at an easy pace for both of us on that lovely autumn morning.

The team crosses the 59th Street Bridge

I had to make an unscheduled, GI induced pit stop due to the 5 day old pizza I ate for breakfast. No, I don’t know what I was thinking. Shut up. Erin offered to wait, but I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to run more so I sent her off. After taking care of business, I felt much better and tempo-ran the last 1.5 miles or so. Alone, I reflected on how I barely remember any of that last mile from 2009. I remembered the Mile 25 marker. That’s about it. There’s an incline right at the end. I didn’t remember that. I missed my sister and Lisa cheering as well as some work colleagues at Columbus Circle. I was really out of it.

Post run smiles

————-

The marathon is 13 days away and I am in taper mode, which challenges my discipline more than going out to run the Jim Purvis Hardcore Hill & Interval workout. Runners like to run. The difficulty is cutting back on mileage and convincing one’s self that doing so is good. What is helpful is having fellow running friends experiencing the same and constantly reminding me to behave. How about you? Are you behaving? Tapering properly? Just checking.

————-

MP sent me his copy of Bart Yasso’s book. I blew through it. Great read. It’s funny how after 4 years of marathon running I still didn’t know who he was until this month and within 10 days, I met him, read his autobiography, and want to emulate his running career. ‘Funny’ probably isn’t the right word- maybe ‘intrinsic’. I bet everyone who has met him and read his book feels the same way.

Christy and Bart at the Chicago Marathon expo

———–

The Boston Marathon sold out in 8 hours. Last year it took 2 months. So Boston 2011 is no longer an option for me, even if I qualify. That actually takes some pressure off. MP ended up not getting into it either. It appears they changed the qualifying race rule. His winter 2009 qualifying race is already too old to be used. I’m disappointed that we will not be able to run it this year, but am also excited that the popularity of the sport has exploded. I think Boston should make their qualifying times harder. Once upon a time (1989) a male under 25 years old needed a 2:50 to get in. Time to bring that back it appears. So we are aiming for Boston 2012 now. And we are both looking to get some clock smashing times, just in case Boston does adjust their qualifying times. It looks like we will be taking a trip to Fargo, ND, where the course is fast, flat, and friendly.

————

Is planning the next marathon like cheating on this marathon? I suddenly feel dirty. NYC, it’s you and me, baby. I’ll stop turning my head when other marathons walk by, no matter how sexy they are. I promise. We have a date with fate. November 7th…

Thanks for the pic Melka!

I crossed the Williamsburg Bridge 5 times on our Three Bridges run a couple weeks ago.

Another factor was my heavy weight leg training. It has always been a challenge to get into a proper rhythm with this workout. I push too hard, breaking my muscles down so much they don’t really have time to recover for the rest of my weekly workout. Yet, this work really pays off and I don’t want to abandon it. I like the free weights. It reminds me of high school football days, of working out with my good friend Matt in his basement where we’d follow Arnold Schwarzenegger’s book as a guide. But if I don’t stay disciplined with the weight, I ruin my week.

I guess that’s kind of like pacing during a race. If my Monday workout is too heavy, my Thursday workout will suffer, and by the time Saturday long runs come along, well, it isn’t pretty. So last week was my last officially scheduled weight session for my legs. It’ll just be my X-Circuit from here on out, which will limit me to using my own body weight as resistance. My tapering has begun with this switch. Sometime this week or next I will schedule a sports massage to work out some kinks. This weekend will be my last long run. Then I focus on some speed drills and pacing exercises while my mileage totals eek down to allow my body to fully recover.

But on to more exciting things… Yesterday was 10-10-10, and TNT hit the roads of Chicago for our second event of the season. The prior weekend had a couple hundred of our NYC TNT team travel out to the Hamptons for the Half and Full. It was a success, perfect weather and lots of PRs. Chicago had another story to tell, with about 25 of us traveling, temperatures in the 80s, and lot’s of PWs (Personal Worst, coined by Amanda H). Nonetheless, it was a success. Everyone completed the event and no one ended up in the Med tent!

TNT NYC at the Navy Pier in Chicago

Chicago was my 3rd event as a coach on the course. It has always been a pleasure to share this day with the participants. The reality is, all the hard work is done during the season. Event day is the celebration of what the TNT participants have already accomplished. It’s the exclamation point at the end of a long run-on sentence. Sometimes that exclamation is a “YAY!” Sometimes it’s a “F#@k!” We had a little bit of both in Chi-town.

TNT waits for the start, anticipating the run ahead.

I went to the expo the day before with Syed, Amanda H, and Christy where we got to meet Bart Yasso. Christy, who totally has a crush on the running legend, was almost too shy to say hi. It was cute. Syed egged her on and we all benefited. We chatted for about 5 minutes or so and he gave some brilliant and obvious advice. “You can’t go too slow out there in the beginning tomorrow. I think it’s going to be hot. You’re gonna see that anyone who goes out too fast is going to fade in the end.”

The 2008 event is remembered as having horrible race conditions, with temperatures that reached 89 degrees and water stations going empty. The course was closed early because of this. Weather-wise, 2010 didn’t fare much better with temperatures in the mid 80s. But the organizers and volunteers were on top of things this time. I was out on the course still seven hours after the start, and there was plenty of water, Gatorade, and beer (yeah, I had a beer at mile 23).

In the end... smiles!

Some of the team had amazing races despite the weather which was quite impressive. Some had terrible times. But everyone gutted it out till the end. And though some time goals were not reached, we were all well reminded why we were even there in Chicago pounding the pavement. Together the TNT-Chicago event raised over 1.2 million dollars for the LLS. Coach Sandy from Manhattan was the top fundraiser in the nation (and ran quite an excellent race I might add). Coach Lisa topped $10k by Saturday night. And Christy shared her personal connection with the cause, giving the inspiration speech at the pasta party, by introducing all of us to her mother who passed some 20 years ago. It was very touching. Christy’s mom was obviously a remarkable woman.

I feel fortunate to be a part of such a great organization and to have met such wonderful people. Some who will be life-long friends, I think. We’re at that stage of the season now where there’s an event almost every weekend. A Rocktoberfest, if you will (name inspired by the beer I drank at last night’s victory party). Things are wrapping up, and fast. And while I’m here I’ll do what I can to reflect upon the time and really take it all in.

I knew that I had a habit of hovering in the 30s, so I looked back in my training log to see if I had ever topped 40 miles in a week before. Back in April 2009 I had a 38.9 mile week. That’s as close as my records show. Maybe back in 2007 or 2006, before I started logging my miles, I could possibly have topped 40. But even on a week that included a marathon, I think I would have only run 3 other days for short distances.

Three marathons, a few half marathons, three RTB relays and countless other races trained for and I had never topped 40 miles. That 44.9 mile week in August ushered me into new territory. A month and a half later, it remains my only week in the 40s. Nursing a couple injuries, then running my fourth RTB Relay, my miles again hovered in the 20s or 30s. That is, until last week. Sunday capped my first ever 50+ mileage week.

James and I celebrate a good run and supurb week with hotdogs

I’m feeling great. My legs are strong. But my goal of Boston qualifying still seems ambitious. I have less than six weeks left till race day and three weeks until the tapering starts. I have one more leg strengthening session at the gym and a trip to the Chicago Marathon with TNT in a couple weeks. I have to somehow fit some quality long runs in with some solid marathon pace miles. I’ll have to stay disciplined, stay the course of my training calendar, and let the numbers take care of themselves. I’m kind of getting excited.

The Warriors took a mini trip to Utica, NY to partake in the Boilermaker (15k) on July 11. Kevin came into NYC and we met up with MK and John that Friday afternoon and started brainstorming some recruitment potentials. Dee was the first name to pop up on the list along with Ben. That gave us 7 runners. But we needed 9 to be comfortable and 10 was the magic number I was looking for. Lauren and Sara came into Manhattan that evening for drinks. Sara was one of the sudden drops. Ok sure, she had a good excuse. But that didn’t change the fact that everyone was sad she wasn’t going to make it this year. If you look back in this post, you’ll see she was injured last minute last year and couldn’t run then either. =(

The Warriors: 2010

Everyone left that weekend back to normal life with the mission to find our team 3 more runners. The main qualifier (besides having free time, $300, and being crazy enough to do this event) was chemistry. Who would make this trip more awesome than it already is? Who has a positive personality and could handle the stress of what we were about to undertake? What were we about to undertake?

Oh, yeah, in case you don’t already know… Reach The Beach is a 200+ mile relay race that takes a team of runners about 30 hours to accomplish straight through, taking turns running individual legs (36 in total). We start in Franconia, NH and end at Hampton Beach, NH. Great crazy fun.

After a few emails, we suckered, er… I mean recruited Syed, Kara, and Erin (aka Lady Southpaw) . I should note that Kara came all the way from Denver, CO. Syed handed me cash immediately excited to jump in, and Erin dragged her feet forever, not knowing what kind of wackos she’d end up spending the weekend with. Hopefully she now thinks we’re the best kind of wackos.

Erin may have been late to sign up, but she was early to my apartment Thursday morning. Together we fought Brooklyn traffic to get to the Dunkin Donuts on Atlantic and 4th ave to pick up Ben, and Syed. On the way I received a text.

SYED: Your breakfast is getting cold captain
ME: haha. did ben bring my shoes? (Ben offered to pick up my new shoes from JR for me.)
SYED: he forgot, we have to go to his place to get ur shoes. (Ok, so Syed has a reputation of not exactly telling the truth, and his legend would grow substantially on this trip. So I confirm).
ME: seriously?
SYED: yes! so we’ll be a lil late leaving bk. drive fast.

Ok so I still don’t believe him. So I call up Ben and ask him directly. “Yo dude. Did you really forget my shoes?”
“Yeah, actually I forgot them at the store but I left the keys at my apartment. So we have to go back to my place first.” Before he finishes his sentence I turn the van around.
“Hey I turned around. I’m just going to go get my old…”
“He turned around!! Ha ha ha!” I hear Ben yell to Syed. “Dude, I have your shoes, ha ha ha!”
So it’s going to be this kind of weekend, eh? Excellent.

Ben jiggles his egg yolks.

After turning back around, picking up the two jokers, crossing a bridge and a tunnel, and showing my passport at the border, we entered NJ, rolled up to Sara’s house sans Sara =( and picked up Lauren. Seven hours later, we arrived in Franconia, NH. MK, aka Van Mama, left shortly after we did with John and Dee in tow. Her route took her through Boston where she picked up Kevin and Kara. We rendezvoused around 8:30 pm. It was the latest we had ever arrived at registration, but it all worked out still. Ben suffered through the 45 minute orientation and registration process with me and learned all the rules that he summarized quite succinctly to the team: “Don’t be a Jackass”.

A week earlier I switched our hotel booking because I found a last minute deal that turned out to be pretty damn sweet. We got 3 rooms. One with a King and a sofa bed, another with two doubles, and a third with a king, a sofa bed and two bunk beds. Yup, bunk beds. Generally the team doesn’t split into boys and girls rooms, but that night we did. It was hilarious how the guys just gravitated to that room. All we needed was a Nintendo and a bean bag chair or two.

Warriors unite! Van 1 gets friendly with Van 2

Our original start time was 1:20 PM. It would have been by far the latest we ever started. Teams are slotted based on estimated speed. And in general, we’ve come in over estimate. Mark, one of the event coordinators helped us out and slotted us for an 11:20 AM start time. It was a great stress reliever. The next morning we all awoke early, prepared, ate a nice breakfast, decorated the vans, and were off to send our lead Warrior, Kara, through the start shoot.

Kara, donning a reflective vest, is all ready to go!

When we left Lincoln, the town where we were staying 10 minutes away, it was sunny. Franconia, the race start location, was wet and foggy. The slope where the starting gate was position was a muddy mess. The organizers required the runners to use the reflective vests and blinky lights for safety. Though kind of annoying to run with, it was definitely wise. Visibility was low.

Because we switched our starting time, the announcer didn’t call out “The Warriors” during team introductions. That was too bad. We got over it, but I’ll know next time to ask him ahead of time if this ever happens again. I took a mental note of some of the teams we were starting with. A few we would leave in our dust, and others would leave us in theirs. Radie’s Road Soda team started a couple hours before. Would we catch up? Would Coach Skinny’s Crew catch us as they had in the past? And I was hoping to see the A-Team out there at some point, but they were starting 2 hours after us and would have to make up some ground.

Van 1 is so hardcore

Kara took off and our race had begun! We piled into our assigned vans and headed for the course. The relay works like a batting order. I assigned each of our runners a slot that they had to stick with for the length of the race. With 10 runners, we had 5 in each van and 6 runners were assigned 4 legs while the remaining 4 runners had 3 legs. Kara, being number 1, had legs 1, 11, 21, and 31. John, in slot 6, was the first runner in our van (Van 2) and was the only runner in Van 2 with 4 legs. He would be crossing the finish line for the entire team in leg 36.

Van 2 waits in anticipation for Ben to fly by

I usually want 4 legs during this event. I enjoy the dazed feeling after the third and horrid anticipation of doing it one more time. Love it. But As the pieces of our team fell together, I found a unique slot for myself that would prove quite challenging. Slot 7: The Three Legged Monster. In combination, these three were the hardest based on hills and distance. And memories of John carving through Leg 17 last year got me excited. It was definitely going to be a challenge.

I tell Ben how hot he looks in a reflective vest.

Erin commented that she felt like a spectator until our van began its cycle as did Syed. I think it’s a common feeling for new participants. I knew the drill- the game of patience and the anticipation of our turn. Syed was so anxious. “What am I going to do for 8 hours? Can I run with other runners during their legs?” He was runner 10, last in the order. We drove the course and picked our strategic spots to support our teammates and cheer on other runners. Things didn’t start feeling real for the newbies until John took the slap bracelet baton about 4 hours into the race.

MK charges ahead

Dee powers through her first leg

Our first shift had started. We chased John in the van to cheer, then to get me to the next transition area. My turn was up. John hustled down the road toward me and handed off the slap bracelet baton. So what was my goal? Well, I wanted to be faster than last year. Last year’s first leg was longer but easier. In the end I came out with the same pace of 6:47 and I was more or less happy with that. The real game became the kills. And the warriors became very skilled at picking runners off. Ben and Kevin tallied decent counts during their first legs. John’s record of 16 from last year was the target in my mind. He had just ran his leg and I think he tried telling me his tally, but I didn’t quite understand what he said. By the end of my leg, I had killed off 18. It was the first thing out of my mouth after sending Erin off on her leg. John replied, “I just passed 18 too!” A new team record had been established. And there was plenty of time to improve.

I'm excited to be a Warrior. And excited to be running my first leg.

Before I started my leg, Lauren made a peculiar comment. “Shouldn’t we have the safety gear? We’re going to need it for Erin’s leg.” I think my response was, “Oh shit.” I had completely forgotten about the night gear. Normally we would already have the gear in our van, but the weather forced Van 1 to use it for the first few legs. As I was running my leg, the drama of the night gear unfolded. Van 2 sent Van 1 to the wrong transition area to meet. Van 1 was hungry and needed rest before their next cycle. Van 2 needed to support me with water and get Erin to the correct transition in time. And there was a mess of traffic. Van 1 arrived with the gear just as I was handing of the slap bracelet to Erin. She took off. Our plan was to make the exchange, drive up ahead of her, and dress her while she was running, all before the 5:30 PM cutoff. Sure, no problem. Crisis averted. I’m happy to say that is as dramatic as it got. A bit stressful, but we pulled it off together. I am sorry though, that because of said traffic, we were not able to stop for Erin again. I remember last year while stuck in traffic, John, who was running that leg, kept passing us on foot. We barely got Lauren there on time for the hand off. This year we made it with maybe 10 minutes to spare.

No wardrobe malfunction here. Syed and Lauren dress Erin on the run.

We continued cycling through our legs. Lauren’s leg had some treacherous inclines, but she was familiar with it and was strong… even if she says she isn’t. Don’t believe her. I mean, seriously, last year when she joined the warriors for the first time, she didn’t even consider herself a runner. Silly, isn’t it?

Lauren and her great smile, finishing off Leg 9.

Syed’s time finally came. He ran us from dusk into darkness and to Transition 10 where Van 1 was waiting to take their second shift. We settled in for some sub-par pasta, then drove to our next van transition area- number 15, where we would begin again somewhere around 11:41 PM. Most of the team got a nap in which is good. I studied the transition areas, maps, and my handy speadsheet to find us an appropriate place to “sleep” for the night. In the past it had always been at transition area 18, where the Girl Scouts would dish out spaghetti and meatballs, but it just wasn’t making sense this year for us and our 10 person team. That made me a bit sad. Transition Area 24 would be the spot- a camp ground.

The Warriors await the arrival of Syed

But we had a full van shift before then. I wandered the parking lot of Transition 15 on my own, stretching, rolling my quads, and just watching teams roll in and out. Who are we catching up to? Who’s catching us? It was fun watching the organized chaos in front of me. Shortly after Van 1 arrived, Ben spotted Radie and the Road Soda team. I was glad to see them. We are all on this big journey toward the beach- like a quest, and sometimes our paths cross. It kind of felt meant to be- destiny. I saw Katie on the course last year. And in years prior it was Coach Michael. It makes the whole thing more intimate somehow.

Our van stirred slowly, one at a time. Syed and Erin came out to say hi to Road Soda. John prepared for his leg. It was nearly midnight and we were off on our second shift.

A happy Kevin posts a sweet time and a bunch of kills on leg 15.

John’s leg 16 began with a long steady incline that seemed to just keep going. He kept a steady pace and Syed and I waited for him at the top with water in hand. “No thanks,” John said as he passed.

“You’re a Warrior,” I whispered. We were in a quiet zone and were not allowed to cheer or make loud noises for the sake of the locals. We stopped one more time for him and again he refused water. His pace had picked up substantially- he was slaying this leg. We took off to the transition area and I readied myself for Leg 17: The Hills of Death.

So what was my goal? To run hard. Really hard. And I did. There were two large inclines to tackle and two fairly steep declines. My pace never faltered and I pushed through some serious side stitches. My breaths where deep and quick- my diaphragm was working overtime. It was a beautiful run in the beautiful night air. The last .3 miles were mean- an 80ish foot climb to the end. But waiting for me was Erin’s smiling face. She took the slap bracelet from my hand and charged into her second shift. I stumbled, out of breath, toward my teammates, feeling quite triumphant. On that leg, I passed 28 souls.

A blurry Erin tells me how many runners she took down.

We piled into the van and tracked down Erin who had substantially increased her skill in the kills. She was strong throughout and by the end took down 8 runners and almost posted a sub 8 minute pace. Amazing. We were at Transition 18, home of the Girl Scout spaghetti. I looked longingly toward the doorway that lead to the pots of pasta and meatballs, but moved away quickly. Erin was speeding up the hill and Lauren was in place to start her leg. Just as quickly as we came in, we were out. Lauren only had 4.3 miles ahead of her and we needed to keep up.

We did a drive by whisper cheer for Lauren and moved toward Transition 19, where Syed would start what may be the hardest leg of them all- a 9.2 mile slog with 900 total feet of elevation gain. After our runner swap, we all climbed into the van and began climbing those hills after him. After running a stop sign in front of a cop and having said action pointed out by said cop and then being let go without a ticket, I found a spot to park and we waited for our Warrior to pass in the darkness. There were tons of runners on the road. This must have been a big convergence time. All the fast teams are passing us and anyone slower are getting passed by us. Syed killed a great number of runners, but was also passed quite a few times. It was always about this time of night, I remember, that we would be passed by the elite teams. Two years ago I heard New Balance yelling outside our van around 2 am that they lost track of where Hello Kitty was. Syed conquered that leg with great strength and lived to tell the tale.

Syed tells his tale of Leg 20.

Kara is thrilled to be starting her second leg. Kevin is just a happy guy.

Van 2 (Lauren is behind the camera) off shift and on our way to sleepville.

It was about 3 AM and we were once again off shift. After sending off Kara and Van 1, we mounted van 2 and took off toward Transition 24. The next time we’d see Van 1 would be in daylight. It probably took nearly an hour to get to our destination due to traffic and a wrong turn. I think most of us got a couple hours of sleep. And soon I received a text from Ben. “Kevin just started. It’s 7:44 am”. That meant they were here. I stirred the others weren’t awake yet. We would have to get moving to make it to the next transition area in time. Just that quickly, we were on again. Tired, maybe cranky… I love this event.

Van 1, almost done with their 3rd shift and in line for breakfast.

We passed Kevin en route to Transition 25. John got in position once again, this time to begin our third shift. In the past couple years, Transition 25 was in a Fair ground. Now it was in a field where they stored the fair rides. But the volunteer parking guy wearing a pirate hat remembered us. “Hey, The Warriors! I know you!” We knew him too. This even has some pretty great volunteers. People who come back every year to help us out. People who are up through the night with us. People that put up with our shit. Here’s a shout out to you all and a big thanks.

John’s leg was boring. Even more boring than it was last year when he ran it. My leg was quite beautiful I thought, but man, I wasn’t recovered from Leg 17 yet. My abs were spasming throughout the night and my calves kept cramping up- sometime while I was driving which wasn’t exactly safe. And my shin was starting to ache like it had just after the NPT hike. I really laid it all out there on 17. I was relying on my body to make a comeback and it didn’t seem that it would at that point. I was struggling. But around 4 miles into my leg I started feeling better and I found a good pace that I could live with.

Erin's last transition to Lauren.

After my hand off, Erin had 5.3 miles left to show off her great running form. Lauren had 4 miles left to tell us how unprepared she was before running awesomely. And Syed… Syed had one more chance at glory. “This is the perfect course for a PR! I’m going to try and PR,” he said of his last leg of 5 kilometers.

“You know you’re body is quite taxed. It’s going to be harder than you think,” I advised. But I know what he was thinking and feeling. I would do the same in his spot and had done the same in my prior years at RTB. I ran the hell out of that last leg. Why not, right? It’s the last leg. I’ve never PRed though. I was always more exhausted than I realized. In the end I gave him some pacing advice and he was off.

Syed is ampped for his last performance. John scouts for Lauren's arrival.

And… Syed didn’t come anywhere near his PR. “That was rough.” Yeah, I’m sure it was. Way to gut it out though. You’re a champion Syed. We found Kara all alone at Transition 25. Since her leg was only 2 miles long, Van 1 took off before Syed’s arrival in fear of getting stuck in traffic. But we were there so she still got a proper Warrior sendoff. Van 1 was onto their 4th shift. All of Van 3 was done, save John. We took the time to refuel and rest a bit before going on to support Van 1. I had a cheeseburger that I literally stuffed with a breakfast sandwich then stuffed in my mouth. And a root beer. Tasty.

Give me a W! Yay Warriors!

We then took off after van one, trying to estimate who would be running when we caught up. We definitely missed Kara, who was probably done before we even ordered our food. But we were hoping to catch Ben on his leg. He had the last hard leg at 6.7 miles in length. But that would not be our fate. Stuck behind other RTB team vans, we didn’t make the time we had hoped. We passed transition 32 to start looking for MK and found her about a half mile into her run. After some water and quick high-5s she was off.

Dee readies her quads for her fourth and final leg

We moved on to the next transition area and happened to park next to the A-Team van. They had caught up with us. I went over and talked to them a bit. Impressively, they were averaging a sub 8 minute per mile pace as a team. It was nice to see them on the course after all.

MK came in and Dee headed out. Van 1 moved on to the next transition area and Van 2 went straight to Transition 35- our final switch off- where John would begin the last and final leg.

Vans unite!

Syed and MK await the start of the 36th leg

Van 1 arrived about a half hour after we did. Our adventure was coming to an end. Just these last 4.1 miles were left between us and our goal. I saw a lot of smiles on tired faces. Perfect. It had been a superb trip and I felt lucky to have landed such excellent teammates. Not just strong runners, but good people that I enjoyed sharing my time with.

The final transition. Kevin hands off to John.

Kevin destroyed that last leg, arriving with great speed, and John was on his way to the beach. Oh, and a lesson learned… Ask the last runner to not run so fast. Every year the vans get stuck in traffic and every year we arrive just in the nick of time to join the last runner across the finish line. This year only Van 2 made it; Van 1 missed it by seconds. John was just too fast. But in the end- the end of our 209 mile journey, we had all reached the beach together.

Sand? Yes, sand.

The Warriors on the beach

Prologue
Sunday evening, while catching up on some work, I received an email from MP, my co-conspirator of this grand adventure quoting marathon event advice.

“The nights’ sleep before a race isn’t nearly as important as the sleep you get 2 nights before. Not that I need to remind the coach, but as for me, it’s gonna be an early night. For shizzle.”

“What is he talking about?” I wondered. “Two nights before we take off is like next Sunday.” Silence. Then I hear a click deep in my brain. “Oh shit, are we hiking this week?!” I jumped up and dug through my bag looking for a written letter MP sent me from Alaska earlier this week. I pulled the note from the envelop and read its suggested itinerary dates twice, maybe three times. Our trip was to start on 8/17, two days from today. I was a week off. In a bit of a panic, I dialed MP who was in Atlanta at the time. As the phone rang to his voicemail, I started laughing at myself and left him a message communicating my ridiculousness. After months of anticipation and planning, I could seriously not be able to go.

How can I make this work? I was determined. I turned to my outlook calendar and began my mental and schedule shift. Within minutes MP returned my call, deservedly laughing at me. “If you can’t make it, it’s ok,” was basically his reply. He was letting me off the hook. But I didn’t want to be let off the hook.

“Give me till noon tomorrow. I’ll know for sure by then.”

I spent the rest of the evening and night doing work and making a list of things I had to accomplish the next morning. I finally went to bed at 2 am. The next morning, I got to the office a bit early to finish off the last of my tasks- rearrange some meetings, finish work for some deadlines, and send out a bunch of emails letting everyone know I’d be unreachable. I wrote to Coach Jim telling him I’d miss GTS, and wrote to Katie letting her know I couldn’t run with her on Wednesday. I let the guys know that I would be skipping yet another Yankees game. And I told Saira we’d be missing the movie in Brooklyn Bridge Park… Everyone was understanding of me blowing off our plans. I have been talking up this trip for quite some time. I will make it up to all of them. I owe Katie two 5:30 am runs now!

By 11 am I texted MP, “It’s on, baby! It’s on!” I had hours of work left, but knew at this point I was in the clear. I put in a full day of work, then rushed back to my apartment to finish packing. As the evening played out, my train upstate didn’t take off till past 11 pm. My dad generously still offered to pick me up from the station, even though it was nearly 2am.

Albany-Rensselaer train station. The clock reads 1:50 am.

Day 1: Bonus Round
“Good morning.” MP whispers into his phone to me.

It’s 4 am, I’ve had one hour of sleep and I know he hasn’t had much more. So I suggest the obvious. “Think we should sleep a couple more hours?” In 30 minutes I’m in his car and we’re off north. He didn’t think so.

The car ride went fairly quickly. After a couple stops for breakfast and supplies, we arrived at the trail head and set out around 8 am. The first six and a half miles were familiar. We had done that stretch last year before our volunteer shift started for the Ironman. After crossing that point, MP quoted Samwise Gamgee from the Lord of the Rings. The next 6 miles were fairly treacherous. The trail wasn’t very well maintained and beaver activity had swamped up lots of it. Our projected pace of three miles per hour was cut to one and a half. It would be a reoccurring theme.

Pumped and ready to hike

We reached Duck Hole (You’re a duckhole) where we stopped for a quick lunch of salami and cheese in tortillas and peanut butter crackers. MP choose the menu. He received some great lessons and advice from his fiancee who just happens to be an expert backpacker, outdoorswoman, and makes a hell of a pie. Estimating we would cover 30 miles each day would mean burning probably 3,000 calories plus our normal daily allowance. I let MP do the math on how we’d recover that since carrying cheeseburgers and pizzas probably weren’t an option.

MP excited to be crossing this pretty awesome suspension bridge

After about 40 minutes MP and I hit the trail again. At this point it was obvious we wouldn’t make our original goal destination for the night, but there were plenty of lean-tos along the way so we choose a new goal. 3 hours in, we passed a lean-to with horse ties. We noticed on the map that there was a somewhat parallel horse trail. Seeing those horse ties on our trail didn’t quite make sense. Did we somehow get on that parallel path? That didn’t make sense. But if it were true, we’d still be headed the right way and they intersect at our goal. So we kept walking. 20 minutes later MP takes out his compass. Something just doesn’t feel right to him. The compass confirm something is off. We’re headed north northwest when we should be going west southwest. About 50 yards up was another lean-to that was actually labeled. It read “Ward Brook” something something… We found the Ward Brook trail on the map. And oh were we way off. A band of hikers confirmed to us we were on the wrong path, so we turned back. I like to think of that as the *Bonus Round*. All seven miles.

We didn’t reach our goal that night, but did make it to a nice lean-to with a water source (river) just before we lost light or the day. My feet were killing me and I was exhausted. That lean-to was a very welcome sight.

Day 2: The Hill
Morning came too early, so we slept in a little. It was definitely needed. We hit the trail after a delicious breakfast prepared by MP and a nice cup of coffee. Behind by quite a few miles, out intention was to have a solid 30+ day. MP identified a couple lean-tos we would target as our end goal.

We were in the high peaks region of the Adirondacks and it was beautiful. We came across the occasional hikers going in the opposite direction, but other than that, all we could hear was the wind, rustling of critters in the brush, and the river rolling along. We reached Long Lake around 1 pm and rested for lunch. We were supposed to only take half an hour, but ended up spending a full hour. We took some time to soak our feet in the lake as we ate our tuna wraps and salami crackers. I sent out our first update via email. Service was sparse, so taking advantage of a couple bars was key. Leaving all technology behind is tempting, but the occasional update to family isn’t just courteous to them, but a smart and safe thing to do when hiking deep in the wilderness. The old school method is to check in and out at each trail head. We did this as well.

MP checks us into the trail

Soaking felt great on my unconditioned feet, but it didn’t last long. My marathon training translated very well in all other aspects except this- breaking in my boots properly and pounding the trail with 25lbs on my back. Knees? Awesome. Quads? Strong as ever. Back? Good to go. Feet? Oh my poor feet. Somewhere during this stretch I began to realize something other than fatigue and blisters was wrong. We kept moving forward toward our goal for the night. “Today will be the hardest day,” MP had told me. You see, there was this hill… ok, it wasn’t a hill. It was actually a mountain. We were in the mountains already, but had to climb another 1300 feet in elevation, about 800 feet of it squeezed into maybe a couple 1/4 mile segments.

Soaking our feet in Long Lake. We are so badass.

We had been in anticipation of this hill all afternoon. I popped some ibuprofen at one of our water/fueling stops for the discomfort in my left foot. That seemed to help. And so did that hill. We came upon it with little fanfare. Our conversation stopped and our effort levels shot up. This is something MP and I have in common that is unique to just us amongst our friends (except for maybe Brian who cycles now). We like this type of challenge. This strenuous physical challenge before us- it wasn’t enough to just get up the hill, we needed to crush it. I’m not sure how fast we did it in we didn’t bother checking time. Everything felt great in these few minutes (maybe an hour?) Heart rate was up, sweat was pouring, and I felt no pain. I was in the zone. This had to have been one of my favorite segments of our hike.

We got to the top, exchanged hi-5s, and took a brief break to refuel and change our sweat-soaked shirts. Dusk was upon us and we still had a good 5 to 6 miles left for the day. We would be racing the sun toward the horizon that evening. And the sun would win…

The pain in my foot began to return which slowed us down. This next hour was beautiful regardless. We crossed a bog and were again reminded of LoTR. Neither of us looked into the water for fear of seeing dead things. Despite it being a bog, it was impressively scenic. For hours we had been hiking in dense forest and here was a clearing, lit by a sky the color of a sunset. I had to take a moment to take it all in. About 15 seconds. Then we continued on.

A dirt road marked the last mental check point for the day. From there it was only a couple miles to camp. We walked along the dirt road in search of the trail head on the other side. According to the map, it should be just about a 1/2 mile to the right. We couldn’t find it. Darkness blanketed us. So we donned our headlamps. We spent maybe 15 minutes backtracking and searching for our destination. MP finally spotted it and we were on to our last leg.

My headlamp blinked three times. It had done this the first night too as a warning that the batteries needed replacing. And of course, neither of us had spares. “You better turn your headlamp off,” MP said. Huh? “I don’t know how much charge I have left in mine and we can’t afford to lose both.” Ok, that makes sense. “I’ll lead us and we’ll stay close.” Sure, no problem.

I had little strength in my ankle/foot at this point. It was clearly a tendon issue and not just fatigue. That was upsetting. Now I was hiking pretty much in the dark, through some rough terrain filled with roots, deep mud, rocks, etc. Good stuff. our 2 mile per hour pace slowed to something I can’t even calculate because the pain was too much for me to think. At some point MP convinced me to take a couple more ibuprofen. It may have helped, I’m not sure. Losing the trail may also have helped. MP walked into some brush into what seemed to be a field of tall grass with no obvious trail markings. “Are you sure this is right?” I asked.

He paused and began looking around. It definitely wasn’t The grass was hiding more bog- there was no way around. The trail is marked with blue trailblazers that are nailed to trees along the path. The trick is to follow these blazers while also watching your footing- a challenging feat in the pitch black dark. There was no obvious answer to this riddle. Just behind us was a blazer. Ahead of us was nothing. I turned on my headlamp and searched. What do we do? “Let’s go back,” MP finally stated. It was a good call. If things don’t seem right, we back track until they do. We would set up camp somewhere until dawn if need be. So we back tracked maybe 100 yards and found a peculiar thing. We had stepped over a bundle of branches that did not seem like a natural laying. Our interpretation of this was “trail end”. It was here that we found a detour. With a big sigh of relief, we continued.

A couple of confusing trail signs later, we finally get to the lean-to. Both of us exhausted and the clock nearly at 11 pm, we started a fire for dinner. MP wasn’t hungry, but knew better- we needed the calories so we both diligently ate our meals and refueled. Our ridiculous night-hike was done and my foot was all I could think about. I knew this pain. The familiar symptom was the lack of strength. Definitely a tendon issue and that was bad news. “I may have to bail tomorrow. I hope that’s not the case, but the way my foot feels now- I don’t think I’ll be able to go on. I can probably get my brother to pick me up in the nearest town. That way you can finish it.”

MP was having none of that. “Joel, we set out to do this together. If I were to complete it without you, where would that leave us when we try this again? I feel like we started it together so we should finish it together. If you have to bail, then we will bail together.” I hated that I was potentially going to end the adventure, but I did appreciate the brotherhood. We decided to just see how things felt in the morning.

MP prepares breakfast at our lean-to the next morning.

Day 3: Country Justice
I didn’t roll out of my sleeping bag until about 9 am. MP may have awoken slightly earlier. Our original plan had us hitting the road by 6:30 or so every day. But knowing that with my foot we’d already have to cut miles back, we took our time and got some needed rest. The guidebook stated this lean to was one tenth of a mile from Tirrell Pond, but it wasn’t evident in the darkness of the night. MP went searching for it that morning. We needed water. Other than the initial water we brought with us and some guys hose water from the prior day, we have been drinking creek, river, and pond water dosed with iodine tablets. Delicious.

MP washes something in Tirrell Pond, using natural soap only of course

We had another nice breakfast and took time to wash up in the pond. MP and I committed to cutting our mileage. Today, we had a goal of about 20 to do. Along the way were many lean-tos just in case. I popped 4 ibuprofen and we set off at a slower pace. Within about 3 hours we reached highway 28 which led to Blue Mountain Village. MP suggested we take the 3 mile detour and walk into town to get some duct tape and bandages for our blisters.

I soon discovered that hiking on pavement with a 30 pound bag on is no fun. MP already knew this and immediately started trying to waive vehicles down in hopes of hitchhiking. “Would you stop to pick up a hitchhiker?” I asked him, because he recently hitchhiked through Alaska. It’s a different world up there. Such things are normal. Here in New York State, no one stopped for us. I gave up after about a mile. MP gave up soon after. With less than a mile left into town, we came across an ice cream shop. “Oh shit…” I wasn’t sure if getting ice cream along the way was against the rules. What rules? Yeah, I don’t know. Imaginary we-are roughing-it rules. But then, hitchhiking would probably also be against said rules.

Unscheduled, yet delicious, pit stop.

The ice cream was delicious. As was the sub-par pizza we had in town while taping up our feet. I also had a coffee. We took maybe an hour for lunch, rebooted our feet, and were off again. I popped more pills, but was feeling pretty ok. The pain was tolerable so going on seemed to be a reasonable choice. Unfortunately this feeling didn’t last long. It was only about a mile and a half to the trail head from there. By the time we reached it, my ailment was already piquing with pain. We went on. It had come and gone the prior day, so perhaps it would do the same.

The next few miles were miserable. We had only covered about 8 miles or so and I already was at my end. The drugs weren’t helping. We were 12 miles off our target for the night. What to do? Being deep in the woods, there is no easy way out. If one wants to stop, one still needs to exit the woods so that he/she can hop in a car and go home. Could I go on? Yeah, I could. but for how long? The shortest distance to a town was the path behind us. The town ahead was a serious commitment. “Let’s just get to the next lean-to and reevaluate,” MP suggested. I agreed.

I’m sure I sounded like a whiny bitch for the next few hours… actually, probably last night too. I shouldn’t have been out there at this point, but didn’t want to give up. We arrived at the lean to with plenty of daylight left. This one was located by another beautiful pond, aptly named Cascade Pond. We dropped our gear and made our way to the water to wash up and get refreshed before making any decisions. Well, at that point we had already decided not to continue. It just wasn’t the reasonable or healthy thing to do. We were now even further behind.

Through the trees, Cascade Pond

That morning already, we agreed to cut our trip short by 26.2 miles or so (fittingly, the length of a marathon) and arranged to be picked up in Piseco. Stopping here for the day put us 10 more miles behind. Piseco had also become unreachable in our allowed time. MP studied the map looking for a reasonable out. Still, going back would be the shortest route, but neither of us were ready or willing to do that. How could we continue forward and still have an out? We would not pass through another town, but there was a road crossing on our way. And from there to the nearest village? I decided to take out my iPhone and cheat with google maps. We were going off trail into territory not covered by our maps our guidebook. With barely two bars of service, it took the GPS feature some time to find us. The blue dot blinked confidently in a mass of green area next to a blue shape. No roads in site. It was a pleasing site. I scrolled to the road crossing and looked for our new destination town, Indian Lake Village. “It looks like it’s about 7 miles from the trail head” I told MP.

Between us and that town lay about 11 miles. Very reasonable for one and a half days. We discussed exiting early tomorrow night or waiting for our scheduled Saturday noon extraction. I had nowhere to be and loved being out in nature. MP felt the same, so we opted to take our time and enjoy ourselves. MP was able to send a text to his fiancee, our pick up person. “New Plan; Joel hurt foot, down to crawl but can make Indian Lake Village (right on rt30) by Sat noon. Ok?” We received an confirmation text. Done. I was relieved. Sad that we couldn’t finish, but relieved. My three big fears about this trip were 1) getting a serious injury that would mean the end of my marathon season, 2) getting an injury that would stunt my progress of Boston Qualifying in the fall, and 3) bear attack. In that order. As I type this, I’m hoping none become a reality.

We gathered firewood for a decent sized campfire. It wouldn’t be a small efficient fire tonight. Sitting beside a camp fire is one of my favorite things and tonight we would take advantage of our extra time and lack of exhaustion. We prepared dinner and began to eat in front of our nice fire when it began to rain. It was the first rain of our whole journey and would be the only rain. I couldn’t complain. We weren’t on the trail and we had a nice lean-to to shelter us. But our time by the fire came to an end.

Day 4: The Search for Cedar River Road
We woke around 9 am, in no particular rush since reduced our mileage considerably. Breakfast was as delicious as ever. We set off at a somewhat casual pace due to my foot. After about a thousand yards we passed a hiker headed for the lean-to we just left. It was good timing. He was ahead of schedule and was going to spend the day lounging about. Good for him. The next lean-to soon passed and we came upon an intersection in the trail. Our detour yesterday took us off the NP trail and we were rejoining it now. Going left would take us back to Route 28. We were headed right, toward Cedar River Road. A sign marked the distances we should expect and read “Cedar River Road 7.2 miles.”

“That can’t be right,” MP noted that it should only be about a 5k from there (that’s runners talk for 3.1 miles). We continued on, puzzled by the sign, but confident the guidebook was correct. It was a 2007 edition and the math and maps hadn’t failed us yet. My foot though, that was failing us. Or did I fail it? Interesting philosophical question I will come back to later. Either way, its tolerance for hiking was considerably less than the preceding days. I was making it worse with every step. Knowing we were so close to the road kept me motivated.

Genesee Cream Ale. These bottles are probably older than me.

I had been stopping periodically to deal with the pain. It would build up to a point at which I couldn’t willingly take another step. Stretching seemed to help. Wrapping it with duct tape for support did to. And the ibuprofen. And water. Water always helps. Hours went by. Were we really moving so slowly? I made us stop yet again and MP suggested I elevate my foot. It was swollen. “I’m going to scout ahead.” He left his backpack and took off ahead. I laid down on the trail and raised my foot onto my pack. I probably looked really strange to a passer-by, if there were any. After a few minutes, I sat up and rewrapped my foot with more tape. MP returned. “It’s about a quarter mile ahead.” Finally. “It looks pretty abandoned. Hasn’t been used in some time.” Really? That seems odd, but whatever. We put our packs back on and continued.

MP wasn’t kidding. The road had full grass growth on it. It could only be identified as a road because of the wheel divots. It wasn’t likely ever paved. To our left- in the direction we intended to go- was a swampy mess. I suddenly had an eerie feeling, you know, the type of feeling you get when you suddenly realize that civilization as fallen to ruin and you find yourself in some sort of post apocalyptic reality. I expressed my doubts that this was the road we have been looking for. True, our road was well over due, but how could this be it? MP pulled out his trusty compass and tried to get a feel of the direction the road was leading in. It seemed correct, but I just wasn’t feeling it.

We discussed what to do for probably about 20 minutes. Taking a left onto Cedar River Road meant heading to Indian Lake Village, an estimated 7 miles away. Taking a right meant staying on the trail. Our goal was Indian Lake Village… but was this really Cedar River Road? MP went to the right to scope out the muck we would have to cross. I took time to read the guidebook again and review the map. There were very specific clues that made me doubt. A) This intersection should have been the homestead of John Macaluso. We should have walked on his driveway, in fact. B) The map showed structures on the road and the guidebook suggested we would see some along the road. Where I was standing, I couldn’t see that.

“It’s a mess, but we can get through it,” MP returned with his evaluation. I voiced my concerns. But our primary objective was water. According to the map, we should head left on the road to get closer to the river, about 1/8 of a mile. We both agreed that was prudent. We began to hike, looking for signs that we were where we thought we were. No river. No structures. No driveway. MP checked is compass regularly. There were a few offshoots to the road that could have been driveways, but it still didn’t feel right. We stuck to the trail. MP’s fiancee would be proud of us for that. We soon both became confident that this couldn’t be the road we’ve been looking for.

“Where the hell are we?” My foot screamed out loud. The sign we had passed hours ago was most likely correct- the road must be 7.2 miles from there and the guidebook must be wrong, however unlikely that seemed. So we kept going, knowing that at least we were on the trail so we weren’t technically lost. Our pseudo-road suddenly became paved. Interesting. And a handicapped accessible camp site was on the right. My foot repeated itself. “Where the hell are we?”

“There are fresh tire tracks. This road has to lead somewhere,” MP suggested. Yeah, but where? We followed. The pavement soon disappeared and became dirt. I was hoping it wouldn’t turn back into grass. Then suddenly on the right we could see water. “The river.” MP pointed. We were both excited, but the river should have been to our left… Guess what my foot said. But it didn’t really matter at that point, we needed water. “I bet this path leads right to it.” We followed the path toward the mystery river. It led us to a camp site and I was excited.

“I think we’re staying here tonight,” I said even before knowing where we were. We continued a few yards further to the edge of the pond. Pond? Yeah, pond. MP pulled out the map and studied it. “I think this is Sprague Pond.” We must have cut north of it some how. Sprague Pond was our tentative goal for the day. It would leave just 3 or 4 miles left for the morning. Our plan was to hike up to it and set up camp. If this was Sprague Pond, than that was excellent news.

Hikers at a pond. But which pond?

I had a look at the map. “It could be Wakely Pond…” It was the only other pond within reach, but it was considerably father. How far have we come? Hard to say. But we needed to be sure. MP dropped his gear and returned to the trail to scout again once again. I took the time to resupply our water. He returned quickly with knowledge of exactly where we were.

“It’s Wakely.” I laughed. I guess we did hike pretty far. And the trail was obviously rerouted since 2007. MP had waived down a car to ask our location. The driver also estimated we were 12 or 13 miles from Indian Lake Village. That’s a lot more than the 3 or 4 we were hoping for. After briefly flirting with the idea of continuing to Sprague Pond, we decided to stay put for the rest of the day. “We’re have to really wake up at 5 am tomorrow.” Our pick up time was noon and we had to cover 12 to 13 miles by then. At the pace we were moving, this was the only way to insure we make our rendezvous in time.

After taking a dip in the pond, I sat on a log in the sun and contemplated life.

We saw a beautiful sunset that night and turned in shortly after dinner before we had lost all light. It was about 9p and we’d be waking in 8 hours for our last stretch.

Day 5: The Road
We rose out of bed in darkness. MP went straight to the fire and started boiling water for breakfast. I packed up my stuff, then prepared coffee. Boy, did we need that coffee. We had been traveling with MP’s French press which yielded us fantastic coffee, nothing like the instant stuff Kim and I used to drink while camping. We thoroughly considered how to cut weight from our packs, including leaving a tent behind. But there was no way we were going to give up the press. Up at 5 am, we hit the road at 7 am. That’s 2 hours. We had always planned on only taking one hour, but we never achieved it. This morning we were fairly efficient, but still overshot our goal by an hour.

There were two particular things that delayed us. Our intention was to have a whisper lite stove to cook with. It would have been much quicker than building a fire just to boil water. On the first night, the stove appeared to be leaking fuel. MP couldn’t get a good seal on it. So we went the camp fire route which worked out just fine. Plus I love camp fires so I didn’t mind at all. The other thing was pooping. We didn’t schedule pooping time. That’s time to hike into the woods, dig a hole, do our business. We also had to wait for each other since there was only one trowel for digging. I consider myself an efficient pooper. I have my running regimen to than for that. But it still took us over half an hour for us to collectively take care of business. Too much information? Yeah, well, there’s really no such thing when backpacking in the wilderness. But I’ll move on.

Wakely Pond at 6 am. Breathtaking.

With our gear packed up, we headed out an onto Cedar River Road. The first few miles were dirt which was easy on our feet. I needed all the help I could get. My foot hurt from the minute I woke. We had to cover 12 or 13 miles in 5 hours- an average pace of 2.5ish miles per hour. That ordinarily would be no problem on the road, but this morning would be an exercise in pain management. MP stuck with me, but if it appeared we wouldn’t make it, he would go ahead in order to arrive on time.

The dirt soon turned to pavement. We started seeing structures regularly- old barns, farmhouses, and soon normal homes. An occasional car or truck passed us. We caught the attention of a dog in a driveway. He started toward us wagging his tail. His owner called out to him and he obediently stopped. “They’re just hiking sticks! It’s ok!” She laughed. “I don’t think he likes your walking sticks.”

“Hi,” MP greeted her. “How far are we from town?” She gave us a fairly precise estimate.

“Well, it’s about 6 miles to the end of this road and another two to Indian Lake.” 8 miles left. “Are you coming of the NP Trail?” We answered affirmatively. “I used to see hikers pass by all the time, but the changes the path.”

Oh yes they did.

“Yeah, we discovered that last night. When did they make the change?” I asked.

“2009. They were working on it all summer.” So our 2007 edition guidebook was outdated. We chatted a bit longer, talking about the trail and our mix up, then continued. We were on pace to arrive by noon… if I could keep up the pace.

About half way to Indian Lake Village.

Mile markers appeared when the pavement did, every half mile. We arrived at mile 6 (counting down) moments after we left the woman and her dog. I started clocking our splits. The first one we did in 9:35. If I could keep that up, we’d easily make our deadline. I couldn’t. I had to stop to stretch and we stopped to fuel and hydrate. We were still making over 2.5 miles per hour though, which is what we needed.

Working on my putting at the Cedar River Golf Club

This walk toward town was a gradual reintroduction to civilization. We soon came to a golf course. As we approached the end of Cedar River Road, traffic increased. It ended at route 28- the same 28 we tried hitch hiking on two days ago. We passed a motel, then a lumber yard. We passed a school, and antique store, and more homes. MP took his last outdoor piss in the bushes of the local department of transportation. Then came the pulled pork joint. Oh how tempting that was. But I wanted to finish our hike and so did MP. We were maybe 500 yards from the end. My paced slowed considerably and I was stopping more often. It took us 4 hours to do the first 11 or 12 miles, then about an hour to handle the last two.

We figured the town was small enough so that we could find the center and be found by our ride. We imagined that center would be at the intersection of Route 30 and Route 28. It was. There was a park about the size of my stoop in Brooklyn that had two benches and two trees. It was clearly visible from the road and we could see traffic coming from three directions. Perfect. We took off our backpacks and sat down at exactly noon. 91 miles completed.

End of our Journey. Country Justice indeed.

Epilogue
MP’s fiancee found us in the park ten minutes after we arrived. We picked up her father from the Adirondack Museum (tore him away actually) and made our way by car to Northville. MP’s family was having a barbecue at his grandparent’s lakehouse. This was the reason we had but 4.5 days. We wanted to make the party. Everyone expected to see us arrive on foot (or on all fours), but it was a Honda Element that delivered us. After a round of greetings and hellos, I took my first shower in days. I’m not convinced I was actually clean after that. I think it took two showers to get the grit out.

It was a grand barbecue, great food, great company. A fitting conclusion to our adventure. Well, to this part of the adventure. We still have yet to complete the Northville Placid Trail in its entirety and are already scheming our return. Can we do it in four and a half days? Yeah, we can. I’m confident of that now. But should we? Without my foot issue, we would have pushed through and done 30 miles a day, taking most of our daylight, and leaving us exhausted. An endurance test only. Because of the foot, we found ourselves with some precious free hours that we used to chat, recharge, and relax. We also discussed completing it, then running a marathon at the end. Perhaps we were a bit delusional.

So today marks a week since the hike and my foot is getting better, but is still tender. I’m stretching, icing, massaging, rolling, drugging, and not running. So my part of the tale is not quite complete. The day I lace up my running shoes and hit the pavement, will be the day it comes to an end. I see that day coming soon.