Stu’s 30k
(Audio: link)
[audio:http://www.RunRunLive.com/PodcastEpisodes/Membership/Stus30KFinalCJR.mp3]
Link Stus30KFinalCJR.mp3
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They don’t make em like this anymore.
I did not expect it to happen. But it did. As the road flattened out in front of me for the last third of a mile I began to transcend the race. I was working hard, my legs were tired but I was no longer there. I was laying down 20 seconds per mile faster than my planned race pace at the end of a long, hilly and grueling 30k – but I had dropped into the race zone.
I was outside my body. Time collapsed. Effort was irrelevant. Through training and execution I had slipped into the elusive flow state. All was right in the world.
You cannot find the race-flow state without putting in the training. The training buys you a ticket to the show. The race tells your fortune. Every great once in a while the training effect collides with race effort and it coalesces into a beatific tapestry of effort and form and you transcend.
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In the old days a man named Stu wanted to create a training run for those in and around Central Massachusetts who were training for Boston. So was born Stu’s 30k. A brutal, grinding race around the Wachussett reservoir in Clinton, Massachusetts in early March.
The race was designed to coincide with a long run if you were training for Boston. The course was designed to be difficult. In those days of distance running they didn’t look for flat courses to make everyone feel good about themselves. They sought out hard, hilly New England fare that would build confidence for Boston.
Stu’s circles the reservoir counterclockwise. The course consists of some back roads, but mostly two lane highways open to the traffic. There aren’t many cars out on Sunday morning in central Mass and the way is well marshalled. There are long stretches of open highway but with the wide shoulders you hardly notice the few cars that are out.
Sections of the course are surrounded by forest and parts run through New England towns and farms and neighborhoods. You will be sometimes sheltered in the shade and sometimes open to the wind or the sun, depending on the weather.
The race starts at 11:00AM like many of the old races do to give the day a chance to warm up. The course is difficult. Not crazy difficult like some sort of adventure race, but difficult enough to test your racing skills. 30k is 18.6 miles. Long enough to make you know you’ve raced but not yet a marathon.
As you ply your way around the reservoir you climb and descend consistent rolling hills. It’s a loop course that ends in the same place that it starts so you get 1,100 feet of elevation gain and 1,100 feet of elevation loss.
The rolling hills are not mountainous but they never stop. It’s a real grinder. You’re either fighting up a hill or trying not to fight down a hill for most of the race. There are two whoppers in the last 2k to look forward to as you come into the finish that test your fitness, strength and sanity.
In places the road is broken by the frost and the camber is steep forcing you to choose your foot plants wisely and with forethought. The shoulders are dusted deep with sand and salt left like glacial till from the winter’s ice. On the uphills you have to be careful to stay out of the sand so as to not lose purchase with your stride.
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Sunday was almost a spring day. Like spring was trying to break free but winter had it by the tail and just wouldn’t open its jaws enough to let spring escape. That being said, it was the best weather I’ve ever seen for this race. It was Sunny in the mid 30’s with a 5-10 mph breeze. The weather held for the whole race – which is not a guarantee for New England. The last two times I’ve run this race I’ve finished in an impromptu snow squall.
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How did I end up here grinding it out into the headwind and up the hills? Stu’s wasn’t on my training plan or race calendar. I posted a question to my running club buddies last week, “What’s on your schedule? I’ve got another long pace run.” (We trade notes. They are also training for Boston and sometimes our schedules overlap and we can share all or part of a long run.)
The reply came back. “Stu’s”. Huh. Stu’s. I hadn’t run Stu’s in at least 5 years. Coach usually doesn’t like me racing instead of training runs but I figured there was no harm in asking.
Last couple times I did run the race I remember it kicked my ass and the weather was dicey. It seems 5 years is the statute of limitation on bad race memories.
But, counter to my expectations, Coach said “OK – just take it easy.”
Crap. Now I had to race.
Now I was worried. Or maybe scared is a better description. I haven’t raced much recently. I didn’t have any idea how my legs and my brain would respond. Was I up to the challenge of Stu’s 30k?
What I had going for me was I know the course. I knew a lot of people who were running it. I needed to get a long run in anyhow.
What scared me is that I’ve never been very good at pacing. I historically go out too fast and pay for it. This course is rather unforgiving of those who don’t know how to pace.
And I was tired.
I was at the end of a long build cycle. This would be the last run of two back to back 50 mile plus weeks with a bunch of long, hard step up runs and other quality work. Would my legs be able to handle Stu’s? The two days leading into the race were a 15 repetition hill charge workout on Friday and a 1:15 recovery run on Saturday. It was the ‘anti-taper’.
The die was cast when I hit enter on the registration. I got up early Saturday with Buddy and knocked out a recovery run the in the woods to make sure I got at least 24 hours of rest before the race.
What was the race plan now that an impromptu 30K popped into my training plan? Coach told me to run easy for the first half or so, keep it in Zone 2 heart rate for the start, then run faster than marathon race pace for the last hour. For 30K that roughly translated into run the first half easy and race the second half.
That was the plan. But you know how plans go when the race starts!
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The race wasn’t until 11:00 AM. I got up at my normal time, had my oatmeal and coffee. Cleaned the kitchen and folded the laundry. Eventually I started to gear up. I mixed up a couple bottles of Ucan for the race and a smoothie for after. I rubbed down my tired leg muscles with Flexall 454 to get some warm up and some blood flow and got ready to go.
The weather said mid-30’s. Right on the edge of warm and cold. I decided to dress a bit warmer, thinking that I needed to stay warm in the beginning of the race while I eased into it, before I started working. I went with tights, a long sleeve tech shirt and a running jacket with a winter hat and running gloves.
I packed my bag with a change of dry clothes and other race sundries, jumped in my truck and headed the 15 miles or so west to Clinton.
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At the middle school I parked and went in to grab my number. I met Brian, Tim and Paul who were also using the race as a training run for Boston. They are the running club members I have been doing long runs with. I also ran into some other folks from my club who were running it, either as a 30k or as part of our two relay teams.
I wanted to get a good 15-20 minute warmup in so I could round up to 20 miles for the day. I also needed that warmup to get my heart rate down into zone 2 for the start. At my advanced age it takes 15 – 20 minutes for my heart to warm up and normalize. As usual, I thought that I had scheduled enough time. But you never have as much time as you think!
Looking around at my club-mates and the crowd I got into the classic ‘what-to-wear?’ anxiety loop. I was freaking out a bit that so many people were wearing shorts. I went back to my truck to see what else I had. I rummaged around and ended up ditching the jacket and instead wearing two tech shirts with my tights and swapped a racing cap for the winter hat. You’d think I’d learn after 20 years of racing.!
Less clothes ended up being a good choice as the sun stayed out and it was a nice day. I wasn’t hot, but I did work up a good sweat from the effort. I ditched the gloves a couple miles in.
With the change of clothes I had no pockets. I would have to make do with my one full bottle of Ucan. I had been preemptively sipping at the other bottle of Ucan while driving out and getting ready. I choked down a preemptive Endurolyte for the salt. Not that cramps have ever been an issue for me but better safe than sorry on a hilly course like this and I wouldn’t be able to carry any with me.
After the clothing indecision and deliberation now I was getting short on time. I headed out down the road to warm up. I could still at least get 10 minutes in. About 5 minutes out I ran into Brian and Tim coming the other way so I turned around and joined them as we ran back towards the start line.
We all had different plans and wouldn’t be running together like our typical Sunday long runs. Tim planned to race the whole race as a tempo run. Brian wanted to practice racing the downhills and step it up for the second half. I was planning on racing in from somewhere around the 8 mile mark. I didn’t see Paul, but he’s usually faster than me anyhow.
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We gathered on the main road and were off. I worked at holding my effort level low and holding back as I warmed up. Tim went by and took off with his tempo run strategy and we never saw him again. He ended up running just on 7 minute miles for the race – an excellent showing.
I found Brian and paced with him. There were maybe 300 – 400 total runners. A small field. We spread out quickly. I was chatting with Brian when Kerri caught up with us. She was running the relay. She announced her presence as I was talking about clothing choices – and piped up from behind me “No one wants to see THAT!” To which I agreed that I don’t even want to see myself naked.
I was just trying to stay in zone two. Throttling back my effort and holding my pace. Brian was would take off on the down hills, but I’d catch him on the up-hills and the flats. He was executing his theory that Boston is all about racing the downhills.
As it usually is with a race this size I locked in with some others who were at or around my pace. With my even effort level I’d catch them on the uphills and lose them on the downs. Like when you have the cruise control set when you’re driving. There was a dude wearing his iphone on his arm and blasting music for us all to hear. There was a dude that had “Follow me to the beer” on the back of his shirt.
There was a young girl in shorts, maybe in her 20’s who was pacing along with us. At one point she was running just ahead of iPhone guy and me. She had beautiful controlled form and mechanics. So, I said to them, not realizing how creepy I must have sounded, “You have beautiful form. Very tight.”
And so we ran through the first 8-9 miles trading places. Always someone ahead and someone behind.
The first half has more hills than the back half and my legs were tired. I felt the hills but managed to stay in a low heart rate zone. My legs were tired but seemed to be doing everything I asked of them without any hint of failure.
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I was tired from the start. My legs were sore and my knees were achy from the hard cycles. I focused on keeping my heart rate in zone 2 as much as possible and pushing my form on the hills. And not just the uphills but the downhills too. Holding on to the form. Pushing the hips forward, running tall with good turnover and running from my core.
My quads were burning on the uphills but not in a debilitating way. I never thought about walking. I kept picking up my feet and putting them down. The race would come to me. The legs had none of that ‘race pop’ in them. There might be a crash, but it would come to me.
It was a beautiful day. The sun was out. The pack was thinned and spread out. I kept my discipline and continued to focus on running from my core. Lifting my tired legs up the hills with my abs. Holding the form tight on the down hills with my core. Turnover and leg lift.
Every few miles we’d run past a relay exchange and a small crowd would cheer encouragement. Every so often one of the relay team vehicles from my club would roll by and cheer at me. Other than that we were on our own on the New England roads.
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So it went through the early miles. Holding it in zone 2 and watching my form. Trading places with the same people.
I was passing iPhone guy again and I recognized the song he was playing. It was ‘you’re going to go far boy’ by the Offspring. He voiced his approval for my music acumen. When I started racing I would pass him for good but now I had that song stuck in my head, which wasn’t a bad song for racing.
As I came up on mile 8 stenciled on the road it was time to see if I could race. The 8 mile mark hit on a long uphill and I was already pushing my effort and HR so it hardly seemed like I could do much more. It hardly seemed the appropriate place to drop the pace, but in my mind now I was racing. My HR had started to bounce up out of Z2 on the hills. I just stopped looking at my watch and raced. I ran by feel. I didn’t race in the 5k sense, it was more like I just stopped holding back.
I knew somewhere up here at the top of a long highway hill was the halfway point where we took a hard switchback and headed back towards the school. I could see it in my mind’s eye. Sure enough at the top of a long pull up the highway was the turn.
The whole time I was wondering what I could do. How much I could actually push the pace with my legs so tired. How much did I have? Did I have 30K in me? Or some other number that would leave me crashed on the course somewhere short of the school?
I was still tired but functional. I would be challenged to get to the top of the long hills with my legs burning a bit but then recover on the downs. I whipsawed between I can’t do this and this isn’t so bad.
In my mind I made the transition at that halfway turn. I was racing now. iPhone dude and shorts girl were well in my rearview and I was steadily passing people. It seems that ‘follow me to the beer’ guy was executing a similar strategy because he steadily faded into the distance ahead of me.
The hills on the backside were less sever but we turned into that 5-7 mph head wind. Not bad enough to damage you but a bit of a drag. The pack was too spread out for drafting.
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As leg weary as I was I was passing people, and that is always fun. In a neighborhood on the back side of the turn I came up on a loose group of 3 women. I squeezed between the first 2 on the tangent. I hunted the last one, a fit and lean looking lady tucking around a turn and passed on the outside tangent. When I pulled abreast of her she shot me an evil side-long glance. I put her in my rearview with a little push.
I looked down at my watch out of habit and saw a 6-something pace with a 6 something HR zone. Oops. There’s racing and there’s stupid. This was mile 10 of a 30k. I pulled it back.
Sometimes I’d be too much in a race trance to say anything. Sometimes I’d just say “Beautiful day, huh?”
And so it went through the second half of the race. I was cranking out the miles with a nice race pace. I wasn’t looking at my watch. I was racing by feel. I was reeling people in and it felt good. It was work. I was hurting, but I was racing!
Cruising down a long empty stretch up past the 16 mile mark I saw a familiar stride ahead. It was one of my club-mates Paul. He’s a very strong runner and at more than 10 years my senior he typically kicks my ass. I couldn’t resist having fun with him. I called out “Paul! I’m coming!”
Next thing I know he’s stopped to tie his shoe and I’ve passed him too. Wasn’t expecting that.
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I have run this race before. I knew that the last 2k has 2 killer hills. The first one is steep and short. The second one is long a grinding and dumps you about a third of a mile short of the finish. I know they are coming. I can lift my head and see the course coming to me.
But I know the finish line is up there just on the other side of that hill. That little café with the swinging sign is where it levels out and then ¼ mile to the finish.
The hills are hard and my legs are tired but I am racing. I will not stop. I will not walk. I will slow and struggle but I will race. On my right the oncoming Sunday Morning traffic breaking down the hill towards the town center. On my left the broken, cement slab sidewalk, small houses and shops with postage stamp lawns browned and dirty from the Massachusetts winter.
Under my feet the potholed and torn street of an American town. In my head determination and resignation. In my lungs the cool spring New England air of another Boston training cycle.
Lift the knees. Pull and lift with the core. The finish line is near. I can smell it and in a few more steps I can see it.
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Paul was describing it to me after. He said he was gaining on me as I struggled up the hill. He had me in his sites and was holding on. He said once we crested the last hill and hit the flat spot down into the finish I shifted gears. He looked at his watch and I was running 7:38’s on that last stretch as he tried to hold on to me.
To me as I crested he hill I found the flow state. Everything was fine. Everything was as it was supposed to be. Legs, lungs body and mind in that perfect synchronicity where there is no thought and no struggle and time does not exist, only forward motion and peace.