I feel like a lot of coaches either didn't quite make it themselves or made it and only coach in retirement. It is obviously a balancing act to maintain focus on my athletes while still leaving the energy for my own running, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I think I'm deep enough in my personal process of improvement that my athletes can pick up on it, and with any luck, begin to see their own path to success.
The course was about a 5k out and back, followed by four 7.14 mile out and backs, all at Boulder Reservoir. The opening/closing mile'ish of each lap was on road, with the rest gravel and dirt. While not hilly by Colorado standards, the course was rolling for sure.
A light "breakfast" of a Vespa Concentrate, a SaltStick, and a little caffeine (part of a pill), was all I'd need after some natural "Cocao Crispies" after dinner the night before. -All the energy I needed was already sitting in my liver. That's the beauty of strategic carbohydrate use and it didn't let me down.
The opening mile of the race startled me, feeling myself separate from the pack instantly was unexpected. From the first half mile I was checking my watch and just settling into my own pace, hitting 6:50 mile after mile. The carbs the night before had me just a little foggy. I also absolutely hate mornings, so I had no plans of enjoying the first third of the race. Mile 5 was a 6:56, and would be my slowest all day. So I was alone way out front and just relaxed, felt my form, and watched my pace like a hawk: 6:50 after 6:50 for the first 10 miles. It's worth noting quick that my One2 ("one squared") was the perfect shoe for the day: I actually tried four different options on a treadmill at race pace before settling on them and they're definitely my favorite shoe for this kind of race. They just sing at 6:30-7 flat pace.
Around the half marathon point, about 1:29 of running, I got a good boost as the sun broke through the clouds for a few minutes. I had also taken a little more caffeine and my first VFuel and was finally mentally prepared to run this race against myself.
Coming through the start/finish for the third time (around mile 17), Sabrina was there with a new bottle and a Maple Bacon VFuel. I was feeling even better, with (I'm guessing) the ketones flowing and my liver dumping out sugar. This was the pivot lap, the last one before the last one. For the first time I allowed myself to soak in the venue; the Flatirons, the clouds, the other runners, the fact that in a another life I was a high school student in Illinois with a desire to run further than a 5k cross country race, and it was all almost too much for me. Here, winning a 50k in the mecca of ultra running, there was nothing more to my life and I wanted nothing else. The gratefulness I feel while racing is stronger than any emotion I've ever felt. I had a few faster miles here getting close to marathon pace, under 6:40, before reeling it back in before the last lap.
In any multi loop course, the last lap always feels the best: "last time up this hill," "last time over this muddy section." Plus I could finally let the cat out of the bag and run some faster miles without having to save anything.
6:41-6:17-5:51-done.
My legs responded as if they were simply warmed up by the first marathon of running.
3:28. Off the roads and at altitude. Not bad considering I can slow down 20 seconds per mile in April and still qualify into the pool for Team USA for 100k.
The reason I race is to find out how far I can push myself. At least that's what I tell myself. In those moments of purified power, a win means nothing. Your time means nothing. Even your limits being redefined means nothing. All that matters is the movement and the moment. The act of running has intrinsic value, meaning that even without health benefits it is still valuable. When you realize this during a race your speed is limitless and you feel nothing but joy.
Another race in the books.
G. Anthony
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