Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Book Review: Eat and Run: My Unlikely Journey to Ultramarathon Greatness by Scott Jurek



If you are reading this blog, I'm going to assume you are a runner, probably an ultrarunner, and you are familiar with Scott Jurek.  Scott Jurek is viewed by many in the ultrarunning community as a respected ambassador of the sport.  Looking at Jurek from afar, one sees a quiet, unassuming runner who has a long list of ultrarunning accomplishments, including numerous wins, course records and the American record in the 24 hour race format.  This book is the first time I recall Jurek doing some serious self-promotion, but as you read the book, you feel that rather than promoting himself, Jurek is simply sharing his story in order to pass on what he has learned.  Jurek does not come off as pretentious; he is the winner of the race who stays at the finish line to congratulate all the other runners. He said, of sitting at the Western States finish line,  "If you were an ultrarunner, you were an ultrarunner...We paid the same price and garnered the same joy. And staying at the finish line, I got to remind myself of our collective struggle, to experience that joy over and over again." Gestures like that earn you respect in the world of ultrarunning.

When I first read the title of the book, I assumed the book would focus a lot on Jurek's vegan lifestyle and a little less about his running.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that while the vegan lifestyle is the cornerstone of his running, the book was really the story of Jurek's ultrarunning career.  The book weaves together three integral parts of his ultrarunning journey: his childhood background, his vegan lifestyle and his friendship with Dusty Olsen.  Each chapter then ends with some useful running tips and a vegan recipe, striking a nice balance of autobiography and how-to advice.

In his book, Jurek credits his tough childhood for laying the foundation for his ultrarunning career.  He watched his mother, diagnosed at an early age with multiple sclerosis, slowly deteriorate, while Jurek took on added responsibilities and dealt with his authoritarian father who, understandably, had difficulty dealing with his wife's illness.  His father's phrase, "Sometimes we just do things" is a central theme in the book.  Running became an escape for Jurek and the discipline he learned from his father turned into self-discipline later.

Jurek also credits turning vegan as a game-changer for his running career.  He outlines how his overall running, energy, and recovery time improved once he cut out the animal products and figured out how to get adequate protein from other sources. He had trained hard but could not reach his goals until he changed his diet.  Jurek does not preach to the reader, but his story makes one think a little more about food choices.

Despite what he refers to as the lonely nature of our sport, Jurek describes just how tight friendships with other ultrarunners can be.  One constant in his running career was Dusty Olsen, his bad-boy, rebellious best friend, who, Jurek admitted, had more natural running talent.  Dusty got him into ultrarunning and supported him throughout, pacing and crewing him to many of his wins.  Dusty had little sympathy for any issue Jurek had during a race and constantly pushed him harder.  At Western States, as Jurek was on his knees, vomiting violently, Dusty tells him to "do that sh*t standing up.  "C'mon, let's get running."  Jurek thinks a lot about his running and how to improve it, but Dusty never gave Jurek any choice but to run and run hard.

One thing that struck me with Jurek's story is just how similar ultrarunners are, whether they are breaking course records or struggling with cut-offs.  Many times while reading, I found myself relating to Jurek's experiences.  From the drive to train to bad decision-making  to dealing with struggles in a race, Jurek shows just how alike we are.  While the book's subtitle is "My Unlikely Journey to Ultramarathon Greatness,"  from my experiences with ultrarunners and their motivations, I found nothing at all unlikely about his story.

I really don't know how non-ultrarunners will receive Eat and Run.  A book that starts off with the author puking at Badwater and watching the puke evaporate before it hit the road might not be appealing to some readers.  But I enjoyed Jurek's story of his ups and downs, his overcoming obstacles, and his rediscovery of the joy of ultrarunning.  Although at times the book left me wishing for more details, it did make me want to go out and run...and make some guacamole.


Friday, June 8, 2012

Black Mountain Monster: Brain and Body finish the Conversation.

Sometime around 10 p.m. on the Black Mountain course.  (On little uphill on the section of single track in the woods after the paved section.  You know where I mean.)

Body:  Hey, Brain, we're doing great!  We've been plugging along for over 40 miles now!

Brain:  Umm, I wouldn't say we're doing great.  It took us over 12 hours to do it. And we're getting lapped by everyone, even the lap counters.  And you're limping.

Body:  Are you living back in 2010 or something?  We've been reconstructed.  Things still aren't working right.  We're wearing this flipping brace that irritates the heck out of us. 

Brain:  But I wanted everything to feel good and work right.  It's been nine months.

Body:  The surgeon said we could START running again at 6-9 months.  I'm not really sure what he would think of us running a 24 hour race at this point.  But I'm giving her all she's got, captain.

Brain:  Sigh. You're right.  But I think we should stop after 50 miles.

Body:  Stop?  I don't want to stop.

Brain:  You're limping and I don't really see the point in continuing on just to say we did.

Body:  But you know how these runs work.  If we just keep moving, we'll stack up a lot of miles.  I can do it.  I can keep moving.  See?  We're moving now.  And I only limp some of the time.

Brain:  I think I just received a message from the knee.  Yes, I did.  It said, "Ouch!"

Body: What happened to "suck it up, buttercup?"  Oh, I get it.  You're that evil twin Brain.  The one that shows up when we are really tired and can come up with 100 logical and rational reasons we should stop. You aren't fooling me.

Brain:  Look, we've had a good day.  We've seen lots of people we haven't seen in a long time and we've had fun.  Quit arguing.  We're going to try something new and stop BEFORE we are miserable.

Brain got the last word, because Body went into flight or fight mode as a gigantic, screaming, squealing, high speed train suddenly came barreling through the woods, twenty feet from the trail, throwing sparks and sounding like at any moment it was going to derail and kill us all.  By the time the adrenaline subsided and Body knew what it was doing, Brain had checked out with the lap counter.

52.7 miles in 14:01, run in memory of Angela Ivory.  For some reason I heard footsteps behind me all day.  It was making me crazy turning around looking and finding no one there trying to pass me.  Although it was probably something I was wearing, I would like to think it was Angela out there, enjoying an ultra one more time. 









 






Thursday, May 31, 2012

What Were You Thinking?


I know I will ask myself this question many times in the upcoming month.  I have always had the problem of biting off more than I can chew, but then gutting through it anyway.  Sometimes my body has a hard time keeping up with what my brain thinks I can do. For example:

Brain:  Let's run Black Mountain Monster in June.

Body:  Okay! It would be a nice, easy course to do a little 12 hour on for our first race back.

Brain:  Let's sign up for the 24 hour!

Body:  But we've only been "running" since March.

Brain:   We've been running since March.  That's THREE whole months!

Body:  But my longest run has only been about six hours.  That would be four times as long!

Brain:  But we walked 30 miles in 11 1/2 hours in January.

Body:  That was walking.  Six months ago. You're going to make me run. And you do realize that they put our knee back together and Left Quad still wants to grow up and be big and strong like Right Quad?

Brain:  Oh, it'll be fine.  We'll go nice and easy and walk a lot.

Body:  Sure, whatever.

Brain:  Oh, and by the way, three weeks later we are going to run the North Fork 50 miler in Colorado.

Body:  What??? I thought you were going to sign us up for the 50K?  You know we have trouble with asthma and altitude!

Brain:  Oh, suck it up buttercup. We'll get more bang for our buck by getting to see an extra 20 miles of the course.

Body:  Some days, I really hate you.

Brain:  Hmmm...do you think we can set a new mileage PR this weekend? 

Body:   Like today. I'm telling the doctor on you.


Monday, March 26, 2012

Six months later

On March 2nd, I reached the magical milestone of six months. Apparently this was the only number that mattered to my surgeon, not 92, as in my knee was at 92% of my other knee, or 30, as in how many miles I could walk on it in a day. I had to reach 6 months before I could run. The visit was pretty brief. He told me that this was what we had been working towards, me running 100s again, so he told me to head out and start training. Wear your brace. Case closed, adios.

Last week, for the first time, I ran on technical trail. I've been stopping and walking on anything rough but I just followed Tony. I jumped up on logs on my bad leg, and landed on it as well. I kicked some roots, ran on uneven rocks, and even "sprinted". It was all good and it was the best run I've had in eight months. Then this week I ditched the brace for two miles on the road. Amazing how five straps and some airplane-grade metal can cramp your style!

I still have pain. The surgeon found arthritis behind the kneecap (no surprise) and that in combo with the scar tissue hurts in certain positions, mainly walking steep uphills and doing lunges. It still swells up on occasion, freaking me out, making me think I've done something horrible. When you Google "knee swells 6 months after ACL surgery," you find that you are far from alone in freaking out, but apparently the swelling will happen for a while.

So anyway, I HOPE this is the last ACL rehab blog post. Here's a few things I've learned in this experience:

1. I can survive eight months of no running without seriously alienating friends and family.
2. After three afternoons a week of power hiking a very steep part of the Bartram, I can now cover that same section almost as fast hiking as I could running. That workout's a keeper.
3. As much as I hate spending time in the gym, it is a good thing. Sigh.
4. After spending all that time around other people in PT, you appreciate how trivial and temporary knee surgery is compared to their problems. I am a lucky girl!



Thursday, January 26, 2012

Fun News (and a Setback)

If you haven't already read about Liz and Scott's record setting quest, check this out
http://run30hundreds.blogspot.com/

If anyone can do it, they can. Here they are gearing up to help me finish the Bartram.
















As for me, no more running per the surgeon for at least two months. PT thinks my muscles are strong enough to support the knee, so I've been running for about three weeks, but the surgeon says it's too early. I was enjoying the idea of getting back into it so soon, but becoming a stronger, faster hiker will pay off. Still, disappointed.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

12 Hours of Hostelity


"Poor decisions make good stories," is the Dumass (Dahlonega Ultra Marathon Association) Events' slogan.

"Please don't be my second story," is what my surgeon told me the last time I saw him, referring to the fact that he has only had one patient retear his ACL after surgery, doing something he shouldn't have been doing.

I had picked the Dumass 12/24 Hours of Hostelity to be my first ultra "hike" with my physical therapist's blessing. It sounded pretty tame. It was a little .65 mile double and single track trail with only 100 feet of elevation gain that passed through the back porch of the Dahlonega Hiker Hostel every loop. So Tony and I headed down to the North Georgia mountains, where I discovered that 100 feet of elevation gain can feel pretty significant when you walk 46 loops. And I want a second opinion on that 100 foot number.

The morning started off good. The Hostel was an ideal venue for the race. Racers had the luxury of using the downstairs area throughout the run as a place to get out of the cold or rest or stash their gear. Race Director Willy Syndram had done a professional job organizing the race and was using things you would normally see in a larger races, such as chip timing and a live video feed throughout the run. The large back porch and deck of the hostel had ample space for the well-stocked aid station and timing station, plus had a fire pit with a fire going all day and night.

Willy gave the runners a short briefing and then led everyone one loop around the course to make sure everyone was familiar with it. The course started at the back deck, looped around the hostel, past the chickens (who talked to you every time you went by) and down into the woods. The trail was wide enough for two people and was dirt/clay with three or four rocks or roots to worry about. The first part of the course in the woods consisted up switchbacks that, with the exception of two short, steep uphills, were gently rolling. After you popped out of the woods, you were at a powerline area (the Chasm of Despair), which consisted of a long steep drop and then a short, steep uphill. Then you were back at the hostel.

I'm assuming that the weather in the days leading up to the race was similar to the weather here in the NC mountains. We had had a lot of rain and then some snow and very cold temps. When the run started at 9:00, the ground was frozen. After about an hour, though, it started to thaw and turn into sloppy, slippery mud. It was at this point that I started to think about those two quotes. I hated to leave after only finishing a 5K, but I was starting to slip and slide and I really didn't want to become story #2.

Willy's marathon session of blowing leaves onto the trail to provide traction and me remembering that I had snow spikes in the car made me comfortable enough with the trail to stay. I had originally hoped for a 50K in about 10 hours, but it became apparent early on that with the mud, that wasn't going to happen. I stuck it out for 46 laps (my age) in 11 1/2 hours, which turned out to be 30 miles. Surprisingly, that was good enough for 3rd female and 6/14 runners in the 12 hour. Tony hung out with me for 18 miles of it and that made it extra nice. My longest hike thus far has been 18 miles in 6 hours, so this was a big jump. And it was my first ultra distance since June 2011.

It was great to be back in the ultra-world, although watching everyone else made me miss running. Hiking, however, is much more relaxing than running. I didn't eat, drink or sweat as much and my legs still felt good after 11 hours.

No knee issues, no brace issues. The rest of me feels like I've been hit by a truck, though.

Photos by Jenny Coker and Tony Davis

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

ACL at Four Months

Quick update:

I got booted out of rehab last week. I felt a little sad. I had been there for two to two and a half hours every Monday, Wednesday and Friday since the first week in September. What will I do with all that time? Okay, maybe I don't feel so sad after all.

My quad is at 88% and my hamstring at near 100%. I have good balance, good mobility, good flexibility (gosh, I thought I would never say I was flexible). I can ease back into running now, at four months (much sooner than the six to nine months I was originally told). Three to four weeks of building up on safe stuff (track, greenway, dirt roads), then slowly back onto trails.

I went outside and ran my first mile on Christmas Eve. The knee felt fine, but after not running for five months, it was a little tough on the rest of me. I did a 16 mile hike a couple of weeks ago (10 of it on dirt road) and the only thing that bothered me was the brace. I was wiped out afterwards, though! I did a 10 mile hike all on trail a couple of days ago and halfway through just wanted to curl up beside the trail and take a nap. I will try a 18 mile hike tomorrow and will run a little bit on the road section.

All in all, while the whole experience has not been a lot of fun, it has not been as bad as I imagined. All that time rehabbing, including three a days at home, plus working and coaching, kept me so busy and tired, that I haven't had the time to miss running or dwell too much on it.
I'm still amazed, though, that they took out part of my hamstring and repurposed it as a ligament to put my ACL back together. And it worked. Wow.