Ironman, Here I Come!

26 miles at 10 degrees

I bought myself an early 40^th birthday present (okay, a year early) and registered for the Florida Ironman Triathlon. I was getting a little stagnant during hunting season (I didn’t run at all in October, though I hiked all over tarnation) and I needed something to motivate me again. It worked. I’ve been swimming, biking, lifting weights, and running since I registered. I even enjoyed a 26 mile bike ride in 10 degree weather. Registering for the Ironman has made me excited again about working out. Hunting season, by the way, was a real adventure this year. We saw wolves, bears, big bulls (the day after my tag expired), but not a single buck. My boy got his first elk after a great hunt. Getting it out was a marathon in itself. 

Slowest First Place Finish Ever?

That’s right, I came in first place at the Run With the Horses race in Green River, Wyoming on Aug. 20, 2011. The whole family came with me to this one. I love it when they come along. We drove from Morgan, Utah where we were visiting my in-laws to Green River and arrived in time to enjoy the river festival—a nice little community shin-dig with booths, games for the kids (hoola-hoop contests, etc.), art galleries, hot rods on display, kayak competitions, rubber duck races, a shrimp fry, and so on. It sounds more fun that it actually was. You know how those things are, but we enjoyed it.

We had a nice stay at Little America

We stayed about 20 minutes out of town in the Little America Hotel because I wanted to tell my kids the story of my great Grandfather, Stephen Mack Covey, who conceived of the resort after a spending a night alone outside in a blizzard in that same area. His miserable experience inspired him to build a place offering warm shelter, beds, and food to anyone else in the future who might need it (I don’t know if his dream included a billboard every 5 miles reading NEXT STOP LITTLE AMERICA.) It was fun to stay there, but it meant the family couldn’t come to the race because we only had one car and we weren’t going to drag them to the start line at 5:00 a.m. only to have them wait for four hours for dad to come back from running with some wild horses up in the mountains.

So you’re already realizing the irony of this situation, right? That’s right, I ended up finishing first, and no one, and I mean NO ONE, not even strangers were there to cheer. It was hilarious. The race has a small field, of course, and it’s an out-and-back course that basically runs up the canyon and then back down again. And you do actually see wild horses. Pretty cool. So I had been chasing a guy, trying to catch up with him almost the whole way up. As I approached the half-way point, no one had come back the other way, and I started to realize that I may be near the lead.

I saw the guy ahead of me turn around at the halfway point, and when I got there, I asked the lady at the aid station, “How many people are in front of me?” “Just that guy,” she said, gesturing to the guy about a quarter mile ahead of me. I was in second place! I couldn’t believe it. I was only running about an 8:15 pace. Well, as you can guess, I made sure I caught up with that guy and passed him. I knew this would likely be the only chance in my life I would have to finish a marathon first, so I was really pushing it on the way down, and of course, I couldn’t stop looking behind me the whole way down. I had visions of that guy catching me and passing me right near the end, but my adrenaline ended up putting quite a bit of distance between me and him.

As I approached the finish line, there were no spectators. I knew there wouldn’t be, and normally I don’t care about spectators at all, but hey, I was in first place! Not a pair of hands clapping, not a stranger sipping coffee to mutter, “Way to go, bud.” I just ran up to the spray-painted line on the pavement and stopped. A volunteer noticed, jumped up out of her lawn chair, and asked, “Did you just come in?” “Yeah,” I said. “I think you’re first,” she said. It was hilarious.

It would have been nice to have the wife and kids there to make a moment of it. Instead, they handed me this dorky plaque that you could tell they had recycled from someone’s Eagle Scout award or something and placed a spray-painted horseshoe on it instead. All the other finishers got a slab of soda ash, which I guess is a mineral the town is known for mining. So I was kind of jealous. But the ice cold watermelon at the finish was fabulous and I ate a few melons-worth I believe. When I got back to Little America, my wife asked, “How did you do?” I just smiled. “No way,” she said, “You got first place!” She guessed it. I guess if nobody fast runs, a 3:42 will do it. We had a good laugh over the plaque. 

My Best Race Yet?

Fighting to the Finish Line

My fifth time running the Teton Dam marathon in Rexburg, Idaho turned out to be my fastest yet on the course (3:15), and fast enough for a third place finish. I love running this race because it was my first marathon ever, and it’s my hometown race (no planes, trains, and automobiles!) My family is always there and the comfort of my home is not far from the finish line. My brother was here to run the half, which also motivated me to run fast.

Me, My Brother, and our Families

The Mesoamerica Tour I direct in April/May makes it a little challenging to be ready by June, but since this was my second year on the tour, I knew of some pretty good routes to run in Mexico, Guatemala, and Belize. I also tried to eat light and lost a few pounds during the trip. I approached the Teton Dam race near or at my lowest weight since I started running.

Had a nice barefoot run along this beach in Tulum

I trained consistently and was able to get pretty comfortable with the 7:30 pace, but the wild card is always the four miles up Summers hill near the end. I knew if I could keep it under 8 minute miles on the hill, I could finish near 3:15. Every 10-mile training run I did, I ran up that hill. And on my 20 miler, I looped it twice, something I had never done before.

The race went well from the beginning, the weather was nice, and I just felt strong going up the hill. I had shaved my legs (first time since qualifying for Boston), and I had bought a light-weight pair of Brooks bright-orange racing shoes. I even wore a pair of lightweight socks. I was trying to shave off every once I could to make a 3:15 possible for me on this course.

It paid off. It would’ve been nice to set a PR, but I missed it by a minute. The racing shoes felt a little hard beneath my feet by the end, but the lighter weight made a difference. I was very happy with my time for this course (it’s no St. George!) and it was fun to place third. I think the only way I’m going to get any faster at this point is if I can lose more weight. I’ve plateaued for quite some time now, and the distance running works up such an appetite. I can’t seem to get enough peanut butter toast and chocolate milk.

Finished at last

Way to go, Bro!

I ran the SLC marathon for the second time on April 16, 2011, this time with my brother. It was his first marathon, and so fun to run it together. He lost thirty pounds, gained two babies (twins), and completed an MBA during the time he trained. Wow! He’s my first sibling to run a marathon with me. Our goal was 4:00 hours and we came in just over that at 4:04. He beat me by one second, the sneaky devil. Way to go, Bro! Hopefully, we’ll do another together again soon.

Trails, Hills, and Hunting

I’ve run three marathons since my last post: the Teton Dam Marathon (again), the North Country Trail Marathon (Manistee, Michigan), and the Golden Hills Trail Marathon, (Berkeley, CA). The month before the Teton Dam Marathon, I was travelling through Mexico, Guatemala, and Belize with a group of students so it was difficult to train regularly, and the heat and humidity were killers, but the scenery made up for it—rain forests, pristine beaches, volcanoes, Maya villages, and Mexico City’s Chapultapec Park.

As soon as I returned from the trip, I put in a 20 miler and trained consistently until the race. Race day came with a terrible wind, but mostly at our backs, which helped push me up Summer’s Hill and finish in 10th place overall with a PR for that course (3:27). The new race directors changed the course (again) which eliminated some of the hills at the beginning and made it easier than any of the previous versions of the course.

In July I cracked some ribs while I was waterskiing and ended up not running for about a month (not waterskiing either which was a bummer). But gradually my ability to breathe deeply without pain returned and I returned to running. I prepared for the North Country Trail Marathon. It was the first time I went to run a marathon solely for the sake of checking it off my 50 states list; what I mean is that the only thing that took me to Michigan was the race since I have no friends or family there and my wife didn’t go with me. I simply caught a plane on Friday morning, rented a car at the airport, drove to the Manistee National Forest, checked in for the race, set up my tent, went to town for some dinner and site seeing (I’d never seen any of the Great Lakes before), and then returned to my camp and slept in my tent. In the morning, I ran the race, which was a beautiful, winding, leaf-covered trail through the woods. My Garmin couldn’t get reception for most of the race, which created a nice primitive feel of simply running through the trees. At about mile 20 I tripped on a root and landed face first. A little delirious after my fall, I took a wrong turn for about .5 miles, but realized my error and returned to the course. I finished in 3:56 and took first in my division. Due to some complications, we waited forEVER for the results, and then I started another race: rental car race to the airport to catch my flight. After some insane driving, I arrived about 20 minutes before my flight was scheduled to leave only to find out it had been delayed an hour. Whew. Too much racing in one day. But it was nothing compared to the people who did the same course TWICE (North Country Trail Ultra 50 Miler) and sprinted to a photo finish. Insane.

My last marathon of the year was my hardest yet: The Golden Hills Trail Marathon. I knew it was hilly, so I trained on hills, but even that was not enough to prepare me for the difficulty of this course. It is literally up and down the whole way on a rugged trail, some hills so steep you have to walk them. But the redwoods were inspiring and the views of the bay. Still, I pooped out by the end and had to walk off-and-on for the last few miles to keep from cramping. I finished 15th overall in 4:25, my slowest marathon time yet. I stayed with my sister, and her hubby took me to the wharf and Golden Gate Bridge after the race. I also won a small four wheeler at a raffle. I ended up renting a pickup and driving back instead of flying. The kids were excited about the four wheeler and had a good time driving it around the back yard for the next few weeks before the snow came.

Golden Gate Bridge

San Fran Bay

The Golden Hills Trail race was good preparation for hunting season. I hiked all over Idaho with my boys trying to fill a general deer tag, but had no luck. On a whim, I bought my first spike elk tag and harvested this beauty the same week.

After the Mesoamerica Tour in the spring, two fall marathon weekends, hunting season, and a work-related trip to Egypt and Israel for two weeks right before Christmas, I decided to take a break from travelling during the winter (i.e., I was in the doghouse). Maybe towards the end of the summer or this fall I’ll try to run a few new states. In the mean time, I’ve been training to run the SLC marathon with my brother (it’s his first, and he’s lost like 30 pounds training!) And then I’ll run the Teton Dam again. My “barefoot form” is going great. I’ve been training hard in my crappy old shoes with no injuries and quick recoveries. If I could only eat right consistently I’d be lighter and faster, but have you tried those new Reese’s Peanut-Butter Cup Minis? Yum.

Barefoot Form

Teton Dam Marathon, June 2009, Mile 20

Last June I ran the Teton Dam Marathon again. I tried to average an 8:00 minute pace but just couldn’t keep it up after mile 20.

Those hills are just killers, and at mile 24 I was on the verge of hamstring cramps. I felt terrible, and had to walk a little off and on. I still managed to beat my time from last year and took first in my division, which was fun.

Between Boston, Lake Wobegon, and the Teton Dam, I had run three marathons in about two months. My plantar fasciitis was acting up, but luckily I had a reason to take a break from running: his name was Thomas.

With a new baby keeping us up late, it was easy to find an excuse not to run much. I tried to squeeze in a run here and there, but I was getting frustrated with the plantar fasciitis, which seemed to be getting worse. I took a few weeks off from running in the early fall and focused on some deep calf stretches. That helped a little, but the pain came back as soon as I started running again. I ran a 5k just for fun in October. But by the time November rolled around, I had gained 10 pounds since my last marathon, and hadn’t run a distance more than 10 miles for several months. I needed some motivation. I needed to register for another marathon. So I did. Thanks to the encouragement of some friends in Dallas, I registered for the Cowtown marathon in Fort Worth, Texas.

We stayed at the Hutchings Hotel, which I'd highly recommend.

The pork burritos were amazing!

I started training again, and that’s when the barefoot form epiphany occurred. I was doing some research on running shoes and running form when I came across an article about some crazy-man called “Barefoot Ted.” He had run the Boston Marathon barefoot. What an idiot, I thought. Until the article made the claim that barefoot running improves your form and reduces injury. With my plantar fasciitis annoying me, injury reduction was just what I was looking for. But how could you run barefoot? Wouldn’t it tear your feet to shreds unless you spent months building up caveman-like calluses on your feet?

I did some more research and found several more articles touting the benefits of running barefoot. The arguments were all the same: 1) running barefoot naturally causes you to run properly, with the outer-edge of your forefoot striking the ground first, then rolling onto the ball of your foot, then absorbing the impact with the arch and achilles/calf like a spring, the whole motion occurring directly beneath you rather than in front of you; and 2) running shoes ruin your form by causing you to strike the ground with your heel first, your foot slightly in front of you, placing the majority of the impact on the knee and hip. Ironic, huh? The better your running shoes, the more you’ll heel strike, and the more injuries you’ll have. The less padding on the heel—in other words, going barefoot—the more you absorb the shock with the natural design and function of the foot, and the less injuries you’ll have. It made sense.

I stood up from the computer and jogged around the house a little on the hard floor. Immediately, I could tell that there was some truth to the argument. But I wasn’t about to start running around on pavement or a treadmill with my bare feet. So I started to look for footwear designed for a “barefoot from” style of running. Everything I found was either too extreme (Vibram Five Fingers) or too expensive (Newtons) or really not much different than a regular running shoe (Nike Free). Finally, I concluded that my best option was already in my closet: my older, “worn out” running shoes.

Like most runners, I was in the habit of buying a new pair when the heel of my shoes had lost a significant amount of its absorption power. So I put on my old running shoes for my next run, and changed my form. I forced myself you land on the forefoot, with a shorter, quicker stride. At first it felt awkward, like I was Mr. Twinkle-Toes prancing around. It also made me realize what a serious heel striker I normally was. And the next day, as I anticipated, my calves were sore, especially the lower half. But I also noticed that my joints, and really my whole body, just felt a little better at the end of my run.

I kept it up, gradually increasing my miles, and my speed as I adjusted to the form, and made some adjustments in my form. I concentrated on making sure my forefoot touched the ground first, but not so much that I was “on my toes” and straining my calves. It was more like a gradual roll from outer edge, to forefoot, to full foot on the ground, to heel lifting, and foot rolling forward into the next stride. It felt lighter, quicker, and more natural. Very soon, I had adjusted to a comfortable “barefoot form.” And my experience proved the claims I had read to be true: my legs stopped hurting so much. My plantar faschiitis went away. My knees and hips didn’t ache anymore after longs runs. My bowels even felt less-jostled and irritated. I was even able to run a little faster and felt less winded.

After every run using this form, I came home exuberant about how good I felt. The only noticeable strain was on my lower claves, but I supplemented with some calf raises, and soon enough, I had done my first 20-miler with my new form, and felt fabulous. I couldn’t believe the difference. The heel strike felt totally awkward and unnatural to me now whenever I tried it. I was convinced that barefoot form was the right way to run, and I could do it in my old running shoes with no problems. But I knew the truest test would be the marathon.

My goal was to see if I could come to the end of a marathon and actually feel good, which had yet to happen in the nine I’d run. The last few miles of every marathon I’d run were always filled with pain, my body screaming for me to stop running, and my mind asking, “Why are you doing this? You’d better not ever do this again.” And then the post-finish-line waddling around in pain. Could I finish a marathon in under four hours and not feel the horror? That was my question. Here’s the answer: YES! I did it at the Cowtown Marathon in Fort Worth, and I attribute it entirely to the barefoot form.

I trained trying to achieve a consistent 8:00 minute pace, but planned to run the marathon at a slower 8:30 pace. My goal was to run a steady 8:30 pace from beginning to end, finish in under 3:45, and see how I felt. As usual, I felt great for the first part of the marathon. But with the adrenaline and energy, that’s always the case. I just concentrated on not speeding up. I knew the true test would be how I felt at mile 20, 22, and 24, as always.

As I worked my way through the teen miles, I felt so good and strong, with plenty of breath, that I continually had to resist the temptation to speed up. The weather was cool and I stayed relaxed, and kept my pace. I kept telling myself, “Wait until mile 20, then see how you feel.” At mile 20, I still felt good. Yes, I was tired, obviously, but I didn’t have that horrible “stop-running-now!” feeling that usually crept over me at about this point. “Wait until mile 22, then see how you feel,” I told myself. And sure enough, at mile 22 I was feeling better than I ever had at that point. I was smiling. I was happy. I was even enjoying this part of the race. I was passing people who were hitting the wall of pain and/or exhaustion. “Wait until mile 24, then see how you feel.” I kept my pace, and at mile 24, I can honestly say that I actually felt good. I was not miserable or discouraged or trudging along. My legs were tired, especially my calves, but I felt light, strong, and relaxed. My bones didn’t feel like they had been hammering against each other for hours. So I let myself speed up a little. And then at mile 25 I quickened to just under an 8:00 minute pace, and my last mile was my fastest mile of the race. AND I FELT GOOD! Tight was all, whereas usually I felt tight and achy and stiff and sore and miserable.

Some hot cowgirls at the finish line

It was the first time I had ever run the second half of a marathon faster than the first. It was the first time I could walk around afterwards (which we did, around Cowtown) and feel well-enough to enjoy myself. It was the first time I finished a marathon and felt like I could say to myself, “You know what, that wasn’t so bad.” I could even begin to understand how for some people, running a marathon at a comfortable pace could be easy. And it could be done in a pair of $29.99 Sauconys from Big Five. When I ran a 3:15 at St. George to qualify for Boston, I felt so TERRIBLE after, I thought I had reached the peak of my running; I could never go faster than that or farther. But barefoot form has opened a whole new realm of possibilities. My goal of running a sub-three-hour marathon doesn’t seem impossible anymore, and for the first time I can imagine actually running an ultra marathon. I’m 37 and feeling like my best running days are still ahead of me.

Cruising around Cowtown

This guy was AMAZING on the mechanical bull!

Ride 'em cowboy!

Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon

My darling sister and her darling daughter

Two weeks and five days after Boston I ran the Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon in Minnesota. I’ve never run two marathons that close together. It was a beautiful, small race with about 150 participants. It runs along a railway that has been converted into a paved trail. The whole race is flat and scenic, through the trees, along lakes, beside farms. It was a perfect day for running, cool and cloudy with a little breeze. And I had my sister, her husband, and their darling 16 month-old daughter braving the cold to cheer me on. I also met some amazing racers, including a man in his seventies who was 47 states into his second time through the 50 states. He had run more than 300 marathons in his life. Wow! My goal was to run 7:30s as long as I could. I lasted until about mile 19 then slowed way down and finished in 3:27 (21st place, 3rd in my division). Every race, I’m amazed at how difficult the end is. My body just completely runs out of gas—emotionally, mentally, and physically. I’ve yet to run a marathon where I don’t think to myself, “Why am I doing this?” during the last few miles. Yet the next day, I’m already thinking about and getting excited for my next race. My next race will be my hometown Teton Dam Marathon. It’ll be the third time I’ve run it. It was my first marathon in 2007. I’m really hoping to finish in under 3:30 but it’s a tough, hilly course. I need to lose some weight if I’m going to improve my speed and stamina. But I ate cookies for breakfast this morning. They tasted so good after my 5 mile recovery run. Chocolate chip. Yum.