Cold Winter

Running has been hard this winter. The snowcrete storm at the end of January was followed by nine days with temps not getting above freezing. Trail running required traction devices so I got my screw shoes out of the closet, and eagerly scanned social media and run-group e-mails as we reported on trail conditions and road plowing updates. It reduced my mileage by maybe 20 miles one week and 10 another. Not that bad, but it took a lot of mental energy and reduced quality runs waiting to pass people on single-shovel width sidewalk paths and constantly scanning for ice.

I had plans to go run The Wild Oak Trail (Cold TWOT) President's Day Weekend, but the event was cancelled due to snow conditions. I also was stressed by almost getting off the wait list at the last minute for an event in Tennessee which I hadn't planned for. At the last minute since both of those were out, I decided to keep the rental car and dogsitter I had arranged and go to Shenandoah National Park and work on my #SNP500 miles.

I slept in the car at trailheads and got 100K total, mostly new-to-me trails in central and northern Shenandoah, including Big and Little Devil Stairs. I wore spikes about half of the first day, and carried them with me on days two and three but didn't need them, as the snow underfoot was nearly constant but not icy. It rained half of Sunday so I called it early. Conditions were mostly slow and crummy, but not terrible.

Filling in the #SNP500 map

It was a nice getaway, regardless of the weather, and a nice chance to get in miles.

My first race of the year ended up being Hashawha Hills 50K. It's a nice hilly course, but consistently muddy in February. I got a ride up with Heather, Mike, and Sue, and ended up running much of the first half with Heather. She dropped me at the halfway point aid station when I changed into dry shoes and socks. 

 

The weather warmed up to a lovely 60 degrees, but after getting dropped I spent the second half barfing, and possibly getting more upset at the guy behind me's reaction than the barfing itself. "Woah, man! Are you OK?!" I'm probably being a jerk about this, but something like "You need a gel or salt pill?" would be a much more constructive comment. Pity is neither appreciated nor helpful. I'm vomiting (but also still running just as fast as you), how do you think I feel? Also, vomiting happens all the time in ultras. Again, I'm still running just as fast as you--ask if I need a gel (something specific), or give me the shaka/hang loose sign and say "yeah bro, way to keep moving!" and move on.  

50K isn't that long, so I quit eating and drinking, kept moving, and I was almost done. I had a couple slow 15-minute miles, but got back to 12-or-faster that I knew would still manage to take some time off my 2019 time on the same course. I turned on some Pearl Jam and shed a few Eddie-endorphin-induced tears and went reasonably hard for the last few miles.

 

I finished in 5:53, which was nine and a half minutes faster than my 2019 race. Conditions may have been slightly muddier in 2019, but I'm very happy to be running even epsilon faster over age 40. 

Sign of a Good Day

Being able to consistently fuel would be great, though. I took down gels consistently, but then perhaps too much liquid ("I'll just finish this bottle while I'm at the aid station") or too many aid station tater tots ("mmmm, salty!") and the liquid appeared to not actually go anywhere. I'm skeptical of the accuracy but I'm looking into sweat tests to see if knowing my sweat salinity level would help me keep my stomach in check (after just making due for 20 years.)

Up next is another 50K (Elizabeth Furnace), a 40-miler (Hone Quarry), and 100K (Gorge Waterfalls). Then the real hundos: Massanutten, Hardrock, and Wyoming Range. 

P.S. It's spelled Hashawha (there's a third H) and pronounced like Joshua. Mike was right, I was wrong.