Trail Running 101: How Not to Trail Run

I've been hitting the trails my whole life and running for over 35 years, and running trails for over 30 years. I've gained a lot of experience over the years and I pretty well qualify as above average when it comes not just to running, but to running trails. There isn't much I haven't encountered or dealt with, yet I recently received a reminder that I'm not perfect.

A friend of mine recently completed his first Ironman (140.6, the real deal) and is looking for his next challenge. This summer he also read Scott Jureck's book "Eat to Run", and he is now looking to do his first ultra with a long range goal of running a 100+ mile ultra some day. He knows I've done three 50k's and am looking to do a 50 mile within the next year. So, he invited me along when he planned to do his first 50k. Unfortunately the race was already closed, but undeterred he decided we should just do a 30 mile trail run in its stead. I agreed and less than two weeks later we inked in to run.

He got online and started looking at a trail and figuring out logistics. He quickly decided on the Appalachian Trail and found a place where we could start which would have us hitting a gas station 5 miles later, and a place to park his car with supplies 5 miles beyond that. The plan was to drop off his car and take my truck back to start point. We were to run 15 miles out (15.6 actually, he wanted 50k) and then turn back. With the gas station and his car we would have "aid stations" at 5, 10, 20, and 25 mile marks. Everything sounded perfect, except one teeny, tiny, thing. Neither one of us had ever seen the section of trail we were going to run.

Morning of the run came and he drove over to my house. I then followed him through the narrow, winding mountain roads to where we were going to drop his car. It was still dark and we didn't know exact spot where trail intersected road. After driving a while and knowing that we were getting close we found the spot where a trail hit the road and parked his car. I dropped off my supplies in his car, conferred with him about what he had and then we headed to out start area. By the time we got to our start point it was light enough for us to begin, so we geared up and set out.

I have to admit, that despite his having a fairly well thought out plan and course I did have some apprehensions. The first and foremost was the terrain that we would face. I didn't care about the ascents and descents, I knew they'd be there and they'd be long and steep, I was concerned about the trail itself. I had some fear that trail could be so rocky that running could be virtually impossible. In addition, we had a lot of rain recently, and who knows what that could have done to the trails.

Anyway, after putting on our camelbacks, off we went. We had about 100 yards on the road until we hit the trail, and were quickly there. Unfortunately, one of my fears was already showing its ugly head. The trail was immediately too rocky to run. The trail was nothing but rocks, some loose, some not, some suspect, but not runable. In all fairness, it was also a very steep climb that we may have walked anyway to save our legs for the run ahead. We slogged our way to the top, and got some sketchy, but runable trail and took off.

Back in the early spring I started developing some problems with my right hip. I went through bouts of better and worse through the rest of the spring, all of the summer and into the start of the fall. I was starting to feel better, but going into the run I was concerned it may not hold up, and within first mile I found out that it wouldn't. Our first downhill I slipped and came down hard on the heel of that same leg. I immediately felt a sharp, searing pain in my hip, and quickly lost strength in that hip. I could run, with little pain, but I wasn't able to lift knee of that leg as high, and that would quickly prove a problem.

The trail continued to be very rocky, and impossible to run in many places. It got to the point where we were desperate to run and we were running every possible opportunity. Unfortunately, since I was having trouble lifting my right leg, I was catching more and more rocks and roots with my toes and aggravating the hip further. I could have turned back, but I'm not that smart and it goes against my deepest beliefs, keep running until you can't.

After over an hour of running we reached the gas station that marked the five mile point in the run. We stopped for a few minutes while Doug (Jr as I refer to him) got something to eat. We both grabbed a quick drink as well and continued on.

The trail didn’t get any easier, and if anything actually got harder. The footing was horrible and we had some pretty steep ascents and descents. It resulted in us doing a lot of walking and slow jogging, but when we hit a decent stretch of trail Jr would take off. I did my best to hold on to him during those stretches. For the most part I was holding close to him, but it got harder and harder to do with each passing mile. I found myself focusing on just making it to the 10 mile mark and his car. I wasn’t going to quit, but I couldn’t look any further ahead than that point, or I would start the negative downward spiral mentally.

Almost two hours after leaving the gas station we finally reached the road where Jr had parked his car. Unfortunately, the trail didn’t cross the road where we thought it did, but it was close enough. We only had about 100 yards on the road to get to his car, where we pulled out our stash of food and drink. While refueling we discussed how long it had taken for us to reach that point, how far we had left to go, and terrain that we would most likely encounter. We quickly came to realization that instead of the 6-7 hour run we had thought we were going to do, that it was more likely going to be well over 10 hours. This was more time than either of us really wanted to put into the run, and to my relief, Jr agreed that we should turn back.

A few more minutes of rest, food, drink and foam roller and we started back the way we came. I had tightened up pretty good during that stop and really started to struggle to keep up. Jr was running strong, and now that he knew we weren’t going 30 miles, but rather only 20 miles which he’d done before (though not on trails), he started pushing the pace. I was struggling to lift my right foot enough to clear the rocks and roots so I wouldn’t trip or injure him further. As a result, I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have been on where I was stepping with my left foot. I was only concerned with getting enough lift with my right.

About 2 ½- 3 miles into the return I paid the price for my inattention to my footing. As I was swinging my left leg through I smashed my pinky toe into a large rock, and the momentum of my foot and leg kept them traveling forward. Unfortunately my pinky toe remained with the rock (remember, I wear Vibram Five Fingers). The toe was forcefully ripped to the side and I felt an immediate sharp burning pain sear through my foot. I’ve stubbed many a toe over the years, and some of them very hard, but I knew instantly that this wasn’t a stub. It was broken. Plain and simple, there was no doubt in my mind, I broke my toe.

Despite the quick eruption of pain in my left foot, and the shout of pain that escaped me, I kept running. Jr heard me, glanced back, saw that I was still running and so he continued on not knowing what I just did. We still had over 7 – 7 ½ miles left to get back to my truck. I could have stopped and turned back for Jr’s car, but we had already shortened the run, I didn’t want to totally kill it for him, so I kept running.

The rest of the run was just a painful blur. I could no longer push off on my left foot, and could lift my right. This resulted in me catching my right foot more and more often on roots and rocks. Each time that I did so, the hip got a little bit worse. And, because of how rocky the trail was, I kept banging and catching my broken toe on other roots and rocks, most of which with healthy toe wouldn’t have been that bad, but were now causing me a good deal of pain. After what seemed an eternity to me, we reached the gas station again, which meant only 5 remaining miles to run.

We both got something to eat and drink while we were at the gas station. Jr inquired about my hip, and I told him it hurt, but I’d make it. I decided not to tell him about the toe just yet. I didn’t want him to try getting me to stay at the gas station while he went for truck, or to cause him to quit the run. It is just a pinky toe after all, and though it was painful, and I could tell very swollen, it wasn’t going to kill me. I’d been struggling to keep within visual range of him on the good sections of trail, and was taking some risks to try and catch back up on the bad, but I thought I could make the remaining distance without slowing him too much. So when he was ready to run again, so was I.

Not really much to say about the remaining 5 miles beyond that it got harder and harder for me and I kept falling further and further back. He started waiting for me at start of each of the bad sections and once I caught up, he’d start off again. Finally, with about 1 ½ miles left I confessed what had happened to my toe after he’d had a lengthy wait for me to catch up to him. I told him to go ahead and I’d be along as soon after him as I could. He refused to go and kept waiting for me, and so we very slowly covered the remaining distance. When we got back to road that my truck was parked on, he smoothly accelerated down the road the short distance to the truck. I was able to run a slow hobble behind him.

On the day mistakes were made, but things were also done right. It is always good to either scout the trail you plan to run, or get a good description from someone who knows. You can head into it blind, but may find yourself doing very little running as we did. Also, I probably shouldn't have attmepted anything like that until I knew my hip was fully recovered and healed. Trail running is much more strenuous than running on roads. However, we were smart enough to run with a partner in case something happened. Jr had done an excellent job of figuring out logistics for keeping us fueled and hydrated. We had our cell phones with us, and we were smart enough to turn back (well, at least Jr was) when we knew trail was going to be too much for us to do the distance we had planned.

After the run, instead of letting me lick my wounds, my wife had me out digging a new garden. Pinky toe and hip aren't that important...

Oh, and thanks to Doug, aka Jr, whose pictures I stole for the post...

Valentine's Day Marathon '11

The morning of the Valentine's Day Marathon I woke up, got dressed, walked the pooch and then hopped in my truck and left. I made a quick stop at a deli for a nice roast beef, egg and cheddar sandwich with hot sauce and a large cup of black coffee. Good fuel to get me through the 26.2 miles that were coming up.


I made the short drive to the park, found a place to park and went to check things out. This was a very informal race: no registration, no fee, no awards, and aid station only at end of each 6.55 mile loop. With all of the snow we had I wasn't sure about running the race at all. The only reason I was really there was to use it as a training run for the 50k trail run (The Hat Run) I had next month. Due to weather I hadn't been getting many miles in and this was good way to push myself into a long run.

The race would also be a good test for Vibram Five Fingers KSO Treks. I had done some limited trail running in my Sprints and KSOs but was worried about how well my feet would do for a long trail run if there were a lot of rocks and roots. For short distances rocks and roots didn't bother my feet, but a 50k could prove different. So, shortly after signing up for the Hat Run I bought the KSO Treks, which have a slightly thicker sole. They also have a bit of a tread, more like a typical trail running shoe, which could prove valuable. The Valentine's Day Marathon I hoped would give me a good idea whether my feet would hold up with the KSO Treks or whether I had to quickly come up with another plan.

Upon arriving at the start/finish area I "checked in". I quickly donned my red stocking cap, which we were asked to wear to help ID "racers", but not required to wear and my bib number. I was assigned the number 2 and was feeling pretty special despite the fact that all of us got the same number. I didn't really understand that, but didn't care, figured it was all part of the fun.

There was a bit of a wait for start time and then for everyone to get organized. A few minutes after 10am, our official start time, we were set and the National Anthem was sung and race instructions given. Lots of warnings of ice and hard packed snow in them and cautions especially when passing. Then we were off!

The start area was only standard sidewalk width so I positioned myself a bit back from the line. The race included a 10k and 1/2 marathon option and I wanted to let the shorter distance runners a chance to get free without tricky passing. My mistake!

Within 50 yards I, along with many others, found myself trapped by a couple groups of some of the rudest and most inconsiderate women I've encountered during a race. I understand running with your friends, it makes the miles go by easier, but when you have a narrow path with deep and dangerous to run on snow and ice to each side and insist on running on 3 a breast so you can talk you are being inconsiderate. And to do it at the start of a race with several hundred runners trapped behind you goes beyond breaking race etiquette. They made no effort to move over as runner after runner slipped and scampered off path around them. They just kept chatting oblivious to the rest of us who were taking up space in THEIR world.

It took me almost a 1/2 mile to work my way around them and I was off. The opening 2 miles were as icy as promised. I was very glad of the extra traction my Treks provided me. As long as I kept my strides relatively short and took it easy around corners it wasn't too bad. There was one steep hill, to get up the side of an overpass, that proved too treacherous to run, but rest was doable.

The first 2 miles went by relatively quickly. There was some slipping, but damage done by it was minimal. But I was looking forward to the hard packed snow with good footing that we were promised for the remainder of the 6.55 mile loop. Once there though, I was less than thrilled.

The snow became hard packed alright, but was like ice and had all sorts of bumps and angles to it. Pace quickly dropped as it became a major effort just to stay upright, much less move forward. I had managed sub 9 minute miles to that point, but knew I was quickly around 11-12 minute pace now. The only fun part was 1/2 mile into it trying to hammer the gong they hung by the trail without slipping and turning my butt into a toboggan on the downhill where it was placed. I kept my feet somehow and rang out a solid bong on it.

The rest of the first loop consisted of some nice scenery and occasionally passing or being passed by other runners. A few comments during the brief meetings to distract from how the body was feeling helped pass the time. Footing remained horrible and feet continued to slide all directions twisting them up as well as my ankles and knees. Everything below the waist was a bit upset with me as I hit the end of the lap.

The aid station at the start/finish area was self serve, so I grabbed a bottle of water to refill my bottle that I was carrying in my waist pack. I quickly filled up and took off again for the start of lap 2. The temperature had warmed slightly since the first lap, which wasn't surprising since it took me around 1:06 to complete it. But, the footing hadn't improved much.

On the 2nd lap the ice was still slick, as was the hard packed snow, but both had improved very slightly. Unfortunately my legs were fried from the first lap and the 2nd lap just managed to put an even bigger hurt on them. I was still occasionally passing and being passed by other runners but things had thinned out considerably. I spent a good portion of the loop on my own. Even the 'highlight' of banging the gong was dampened when I slipped causing myself to straighten up right into the branch it was hanging from. I caught a bend in the branch right in the belly of my right side trapezius muscle. No major harm done, but an added insult to the injury I'd already been facing.

I completed the first half of the marathon in approximately 2:15. Far from a PR performance, but I was happy with my efforts. I quickly refilled my water bottle again and took off on my third loop. Things had continued to warm and there was now a 1/2 mile stretch of the start/finish stretch that was getting soggy. My feet were quickly soaked and over the first 2 miles got very cold. There was good news though. The ice had melted slightly and the hard packed snow had softened considerably and wasn't nearly as slippery. If my legs weren't already extremely sore from the first 2 loops I probably would have made much better time on this loop. But, as it was, I just kept plodding along at the same pace, unable to go faster. On the positive side though, the beating my legs were taken was considerably lessened.

The third loop was pretty uneventful. I saw very few runners, hit the gong without hurting myself and slipped around considerably less. I ran a slightly slower lap than the second, but didn't feel much worse. Unfortunately the final 200 yards was now a big puddle and my feet were thoroughly soaked and muddy by the time I reached the aid station.

I again quickly filled my water bottle and plunged into the fourth and final lap. The first 600 yards were more mud puddles and I slogged through them. The rest of the course had improved tremendously and if I had fresh legs I think I could really have cranked out a good lap on it. However, my legs were done and I just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. This lap there would be no luxury of having other runners to occasionally focus on, I was pretty much alone. In the first 4 miles of the loop the only people I saw were 2 unfriendly walkers going the other direction. Somewhere around the 4 1/2 mile mark a runner, not in the race blew by me. I saw and passed one other racer a mile from the finish.

The last lap was an exercise of will power. My legs and feet were in pain. My toes were frozen. I was starting to feel dehydrated and my blood sugar was plunging. I wanted to stop badly and say the heck with it. It was a race, but I was doing it as a training run. No harm in quitting. But, I've never had a dnf and that more than anything kept my feet moving. My spirits did buoy in the final mile when I saw and over took another racer. It wasn't so much from passing him as knowing I wasn't the only one still left on the course. At times it felt like I was alone in the world and just that one person made a big difference.

I finished strong, but still had my slowest lap of the day. My unofficial and official (timing was all on our honor, we recorded our own finish times) was 4:43:24. I felt like crap, my feet, ankles, knees, and all leg muscles were killing me. My right shoulder was throbbing, I was dehydrated and blood sugar shot. But, I was in and alive and met my goals. I got in a training run that would help me be ready for my 50k. My feet, though sore, showed they could go the distance in vibrams, no way the 50k course could be harder on them. I made it through almost 5 hours of running with zero calories or electrolytes, doing 31.2 miles with them would seem easy.

All in all it was a good day. I learned and gained a lot. I knew I would pay for it for a couple of days, but that's ok, as an endurance athlete I know to expect it. I may have even set a new PR, for my slowest ever marathon, but still haven't been able to find records to confirm. I had my first ever top 10 marathon finish and since there only 15 finishers I was also in possesion of my second worst finish, being only 6 places from my second dead last place (the only 1 I had was in a an injured 5k high school cross country race that would end up costing me the season). Looking back, I'd gladly do it all again.

Change of Season

I first started running when I was 11 years old and as a 7th grader joined my middle school's cross country team. However, it wasn't until 2 years later, as a freshman I high school that I started running year round. I quickly found that I was just as at home running in worst part of winter as I was the rest of the year. Whether it was because I was comfortable wearing shorts no matter the weather, my sure footedness or something else, running came naturally to me.


I took a 3 year hiatus from true winter running while I lived in Texas. Laredo rarely got below 40 degrees and we never saw snow while I was there. Despite the time away from it, when I returned to the north, I found that I hadn't lost a step in regards to winter running.

The ability to wear shorts year round I long ago wrote off as being a simple case of mind over matter. I didn't mind the cold, therefore it didn't matter. My ability to keep my feet under me no matter how slick and icy the roads became, I never really thought about. It wasn't until a few years ago that I even bothered to take notice of my luck.

About midway through that winter after hearing many a runner complain about their many slips and falls something clicked in me and I finally started to wonder why I had never joined their ranks. Sure I've slipped many a time and done all sorts of spins, twists and maneuvers that would make even the most experienced ballerina jealous, but I had never gone down. That isn't to say I never fell, but those few times I had was not because of slips, but rather from tripping over an unseen object hidden beneath the snow on the trail upon which I ran. Tripped and fallen yes, but never slipped and fallen on the ice.

It wasn't until the following fall that I finally caught a glimpse of the reason why. As the weather grew colder and the winter rapidly approached I started to notice something different about my running. How I had gone over 20 years without noticing, I don't know, but I was now. I found that my stride was slowly getting shorter. My pace wasn't changing much, but I was definitely shortening and quickening my stride. The colder the day, the shorter the stride. I wasn't sure why, but I was positive this is what was happening.

It took me a while to figure out a possible reason, which it wasn't until this winter that I finally felt was confirmed.

My normal stride is fairly long and as a result my heel would strike well in front of my body at a sharp angle to the ground. This was fine most of the year, but on ice it would prove dangerous. Only a small part of the sole would come into contact with the ice, which would lessen traction, and the angle would velocity across the surface of the ice. By shortening my stride I was allowing the heel to strike at closer to a 90 degree angle which would bring more tread into contact, therefore more traction, and would provide less angular velocity across the ice.

I won't try to go into physics to explain this, but it's a relatively simple idea. A simple way to look at it would be to think about an object sitting on ice. If you give it a push from the side it goes sliding across the ice. If you push straight down on it, it doesn't move. From there it is easy to see that as you vary the angle between straight down and directly from the side that the distance the object will slide varies. Same thing for our feet. That's why when most of us walk on ice we do so gingerly, carefully putting our feet down directly below us, flat footed.

Despite not realizing it, I had for many years been changing my stride every winter to maximize traction and returning to my optimal stride as winter passed. I would still slow further and run cautiously on ice, but my slipping was minimal.

Last winter I spent most of the winter working on becoming a forefoot runner and learning to run in Vibram Five Fingers. I was too busy concentrating on learning how to run differently that I wasn't paying any attention to any of this. After a couple weeks of running on snow and ice this year I came to a realization that helped confirm my theory on the shorter strides.

As I was running on a very slick, icy road, I realized I was running normal speed for dry ground and I hadn't shortened my stride. After thinking about this for a while I realized that when running forefoot my foot was landing directly below me at a 90 degree angle to the ground. This meant no angular velocity. In addition I was maximizing the amount of tread in contact with the ground, further improving traction. At least to me this confirms my theory about the shorter strides.

I still don't know why or how my body just automatically made this change in stride, but I'm sure I've been doing it since day one. I remember my freshman year my track coach getting on me all through February and March about lengthening my stride. He was same coach I had all fall for cross country and he never had problem with my stride the entire season. Every spring and fall while I was in high school he never commented on my stride, yet every winter same thing, lengthen my stride.

Winter running will always carry some risks and nothing can make you immune to falls. But, experience has shown me that the risk can be lessened by having your foot land as close to a 90 degree angle as possible and pretty much directly under your body. You still may need to slow down on ice, but by following this you should have maximum traction and minimize slipping. Don't let winter frighten you out of running, dress correctly, adjust your form if necessary and have fun.

Rev3 Quassy Olympic Distance Triathlon 2010 - The Next VFF Step

I arrived at the Quassy Amusement Park early Friday (6/4/10) afternoon. It was a beautiful, sunny day. The amusement park was much smaller than I had expected, but it looked like a great area for a triathlon. It was on a pretty, but small lake with clean clear water which would be ideal for the swim. The parking lot wasn't very big but they were in the process of clearing the field next to it readying it to handle all of the race day parking.

I wandered over to the registration area to check-in and pick up my packet for the Olympic distance race the next day. When I walked up to the table at registration they asked which race I was registering for, which gave me a momentary surprise, I had thought I would have to come back after Saturday's race to pick up packet for Sunday's 1/2 iron distance race. So I told them I was doing both and the problems began.

I should start off by saying that even though this race would prove to be one thing after another for me, the volunteers and staff at the race were incredible. They quickly took care of me, and made this as easy and pleasant as possible. The problems that occurred that were under their control were all computer glitches that were taken care of very promptly.

When I told them I was doing both races they checked their lists but could only find me listed for the Half and not the Olympic. I told them they I had definitely registered for both. Without questioning me or placing any blame they got me my stuff for the Half and went to work getting me set up for the Olympic. I was given my numbers, swim caps, t-shirts, etc. and then personally escorted over to the timing chip area where they explained the situation and made sure my timing chip was set up for both races.

While getting timing chip taken care of I was asked to check my info they had on the computer. Half of it was correct, but my address and birth date were wrong (I would find out later this was a common problem as there was some glitch between registration site and race site that scrambled that info). When I told them they corrected that and had me on my way to transition to check in my bike.

Checking in my bike and racking it was quick and simple. I did have two young female racers that asked me to switch rack spaces with them because one of them had a hybrid bike that didn't fit in their assigned spot. We made sure it was ok with the person in charge of the transition area and I put my bike in the new spot. I put my race numbers on it and before I left I let a little air out of the tires because I didn't want to risk them blowing from sitting in sun on hot pavement.

This done I made the short drive to my hotel. I got checked in, moved everything into my room and went after pizza. I brought the pizza back to my room and spent the rest of the evening relaxing, eating pizza and slowly getting everything ready for race morning.

The next morning I got up extra early. I almost missed the start of my race the previous weekend and didn't want to make that mistake again, especially since I was in the first wave. This time I vowed I would be on the beach and ready well before the start.

I got dressed in my race gear while eating my breakfast pizza, grabbed my gear bag and headed out the door. It was only a 15 minute drive to the park and it was raining lightly. The forecast had been for scattered showers most of the morning and they were here. The light rain didn't affect the drive and I was in transition a short time after leaving the hotel. I grabbed my gear bag and trudged off to setup my transition area. I had plenty of time, but I wanted to get it done and relax and maybe even warm-up a bit before the race. A short swim would be nice.

During my short walk to transition the light rain stopped. The sky looked ready to dump some more, but for the time it was done. When I got to my space I started unloading my gear and setting things up. I pumped up my tires to full pressure. Then I pulled out my helmet put and put it on my aerobars. Then I pulled out my bike shoe bag and went to put the shoes in their correct place. Unfortunately, I had grabbed the wrong shoes. These were my old ones that really, really hurt my feet. I could use them, but didn’t look forward to torturing myself. So I ran back to my truck hoping that I had my new ones with me too.

I got back to my truck, dug around in the back a bit, and there they were. Whew, as much as I didn’t look forward to do any Olympic distance race in the old ones, I was really afraid of having to come back the next day and do a ½ Iron distance in them. That might have been too much.

I ran back to transition and put the bike shoes in their spot. I dug into my bag for my sun glasses only to find that they weren’t there either. Back to the truck!

I ran back to the truck grabbed my sunglasses and ran back to transition. Put them in my helmet and then pulled out my gloves and secured them to the handle bars. I quickly looked over everything and felt confident my bike setup was complete.

I then focused on my run gear. I dug in my bag for my Vibram Sprints and, yep, they weren’t there! WTH! Did someone slip something in my pizza last night?!?! I swear I had everything set and in my bag ready to go. So, once again, I ran back to the truck, dug through it, found my Sprints, and ran back to transition. I put them in place w/ my run hat, and gel packs.

Gel packs? Shit! Forgot my nutrition bottles! I finally remembered that I had stuck them in a separate bag from the other gear in case they leaked. So back to the truck I ran and back to transition again. All this extra time I thought I was going to have before the race was quickly being eaten up. So much for a warm-up swim I thought, at least I’d done enough running to and from the truck that my legs should be ready to go.

Finally, I had everything in its place. I checked the time and saw that I had a few minutes left before I needed to grab my swim gear and head to the beach. So I sat down to relax for a bit and sip some water and munch on a granola bar. About 10 minutes later I got up, grabbed my wetsuit, dug in my bag for my goggles and timing chip and they weren’t there. Now I was really starting to get mad at myself. I’ve done probably somewhere over 1000 races in my life and I was making every beginner mistake possible. I didn’t have a single thing ready.

Calling myself derogatory name after derogatory name, I ran back to the truck for what I was hoping would be the final time. I quickly found my goggles, timing chip, swim cap and my number belt with my bib numbe

r on it. Oh yeah, swim cap and bib number, kind of need those too! I ran quickly back to transition. Now I was going to really be cutting things close.

I stuck my bib number with my Vibrams, slathered myself in body glide, stuck my timing chip on my ankle, grabbed my swim cap, goggles, wet suit and sprinted for the beach. They were giving final instructions as I ran up. I rushed into my wetsuit, pulling the legs on as quick as I could, and then the arms. As I was pulling on the second arm I felt the wetsuit give and sure enough, I had torn a hole in it. Perfect! It wasn’t a huge hole and it was repairable, but just one more thing to add to the list. This day really wasn’t getting off to a good start.

I was finally zipping up the suit as they were starting to line my wave up on the beach. I hurriedly pulled on my swim cap and got my goggles positioned correctly as I ran over. I had all of about 5 seconds before the gun went off and we were plunging into the water.

I was slightly winded from all of the running around so I struggled the first 100 yards getting my breathing under control. After that though, things smoothed out and I started to swim well. I’m not a fast swimmer, but I am a strong swimmer. It is always hard to tell during a race, but I seemed to be holding my usual position toward the front of the middle of the pack fairly well.

The water was like glass it was so smooth and it was crystal clear and cool. Perfect conditions for swimming and despite my normal dislike of this part of the race I was actually enjoying myself. I was holding a good line and moving past the buoys steadily. It seemed like no time before I was making the final turn to head in to the beach and the swim exit.

The muscle milk swim exit was next to impossible to see. It's brown and white coloration blending into the trees and the sky. Fortunately there were a couple more buoys and I focused on them, but soon I was past them as well. I tried to get a fix on a point on shore straight ahead and kept going. However, as I neared shore I started hearing a lot of shouting near by that I knew had to be out in the water. I popped my head up for a better look and found myself about one stroke away from swimming directly into a swim raft. Thank you kayaker! That would probably have hurt.

I veered around it and was finally able to make out the swim exit and I raced quickly through the final stretch. As I reached shore I pulled off upper part of my wetsuit while I ran for transition. I wasn't sure of my swim time but felt I had put in a decent one (for me that is).

As soon as I reached my bike I jerked and yanked and tugged the rest of my wetsuit off. I quickly pulled on my cycling shoes, helmet, sunglasses and number belt and took off with my bike.

As soon as I reached the bike mounting area I jumped on my bike and almost wiped out. Both feet slid right off the pedals. I tried clipping both in again and again both slid right off. I tried the right one, nope. The left, nope. Right, no, left no, right... I was swerving all over the place like a drunk on ice skates. I couldn't get either foot to lock in. It was like I had a cover on my cleats...

Shit! That was exactly what it felt like and I was sure I knew why. When I bought the new shoes I got new cleats for them as well. And, I figured I would get some some coffee shop covers for them to help them last a bit longer. I fricking forgot to take them off!

Sure enough, reached down to bottom of right shoe and grabbed a cover. I pulled it off, locked in, pedalled a couple strokes and did the same for the left. It only took about 100 yards but I was finally off and riding. Over the next mile I pulled my gloves off the handle bars and put them on. Finally, I was fully on the hammer.

The roads were a little damp, but were drying quickly. The clouds had started to part and it looked like the rain had given up totally for the day. There were almost no riders on the road (I was 12th in my wave in the swim, so I really was almost alone out there), which felt very weird, but was not surprising since I went off in the first wave. There was nothing to slow me down and I cranked away at the pedals.

The bike course turned out to be much more challenging then I had expected. There weren't any hills that I considered tough, but they just kept coming at you. There was virtually no flat anywhere on the course. That coupled wiith the lack of other riders in visual range most of the time made for a tough ride, but I kept the speed up pretty well.

The bike course wasn't closed to traffic, but there were plenty of police and volunteers limiting cars and keeping things safe. About one mile from the finish of the bike I heard a car coming up slowly behind me. I glanced over and saw an elderly lady driving. She took over 1/4 of a mile to fully pass me. Just as she got slightly ahead of me, still in the other lane, we came over a hill and I saw stop sign right in front of us.

I start to brake, but not fast enough. She pulled over at an angle and came to a complete stop directly in front of me. I locked the brakes, but had no chance. My rear tire slid around to the left of me and I slammed right into the side of her car. I no sooner hit and she starts driving again. I'm leaning against the side of her car trying desperately to get my balance again while not sliding down the side of the car toward the rear wheel. I can see the volunteer that is working the intersection over the top ot the car. He was a teenage boy and his mouth is just hanging open in shock. He had no clue what to do.

I rode on the of her car almost 50 yards before I finally got enough control that I was able to push off with my shoulder and get off the side of her car. I'm positive she had no clue I had hit her or that I was still there. We turned seperate ways about another 50 yards down the road, but I was unable to really get going again. I just spun the pedals the rest of the way in.

When I got back to transition I slowly dismounted and jogged my bike back in. I was in no hurry. I pulled off my helmet, gloves and shoes and stuffed my toes into my Vibram Sprints. I took a sip of water and jogged out of transition.

It took me a good half mile to get anywhere near pace and longer than that to get my mind back into the race. At the first water station I yelled out for a couple of people I knew on twitter, so I could at least put a face with them, but didn't see a response. I found out later that they heard me and yelled back, I guess my mind was still too unfocused.

Somewhere between the 2 and 3 mile mark I finally got my game face back on and started pushing the pace. I still had the 1/2 iron distance tri the next day, but there was no reason to hold back and I emptied the tanks. I finished the last 4 miles at a strong pace and had a solid race, despite everything, in my first attempt at the distance.

I finished with a final time of 2:44:03 (swim – 24:47, T1 – 2:44, bike – 1:22:28, T2 – 1:33, run – 50:29). A lot went wrong, but it was a solid performance on the day and I was happy with it. The run was the only section that was completely problem free. My feet felt great in the Vibrams and I was confident they would work great for longer distances. Now it was a matter of getting ready for the 1/2IM the next day, things could only get better…

Ironclad Sprint Triathlon 2010: My First Tri with VFFs

The morning of the Ironclad Sprint Triathlon arrived way too early. My alarm went off at 4:30am and I slowly dragged my butt out of bed. I got dressed, prepped my water bottle for the bike and a bottle for the drive, walked the dogs, grabbed my gear and stumbled out the door. At this point I was only running 15 minutes behind schedule.


In my truck I quickly programmed my Droid phone to use as my GPS and pulled out of the driveway. It was a 1 hour drive to race sight and the bulk of it was uneventful. As I neared the race sight I started to see more and more cars loaded with bikes, obviously going to same place as me.

As I neared the race I had a growing line of cars with bike behind me. However, just before I got there everyone disappeared. As I noticed this I realized I had goofed. There was no parking at the race site, we were supposed to park a mile away at a school. I had programmed my Droid incorrectly and I was going to lose even more time. I searched for a place to turn around and doubled back to where I had last seen the other cars and followed the cars I saw with bikes to the parking area.

Once parked, I pulled out my pumped, got my tires up to pressure and took bike off of rack. I then gathered my gear out of the various bags it was in and stuffed into one bag for transport to transition. I put numbers on my helmet, bike, and race belt. All of this I'd meant to do night before and never got around to. I took my time and once everything was set I got on my bike to ride to the transition area.

About midway to transition I glanced at the time and realized transition closed in 5 minutes and race started in 20. I was running way behind and cutting things a bit too close. I sped up on bike and rolled up to transition as they were starting to push everyone out.

I hurriedly racked my bike, and set everything up. I put on a liberal application of bodyglide to both legs from knees down and both arms from elbows down, but, as I realized later, forgot my neck. This done I picked up my wetsuit and goggles and started to head for the swim start. As I was leaving transition one of the volunteers came through yelling out a reminder to the athletes to pick up their timing chips and swim caps.

Oops, I knew I was forgetting something...

I sprinted to the nearest tent and got my timing chip. Unfortunately that was all they had. The swim cap was at another tent over 200 yards in the wrong direction.

I quickly ran to the tent to get my swim cap. When I got there however the volunteer who was there was just watching the tent. He had no idea where caps were and once found what color I was to get. After what seemed like ages, but was probably about 5 minutes the correct person showed back up and gave me my cap. It was 2 minutes to start of 1st wave and I was in 3rd wave and had yet to put on my wetsuit.

I dashed off for the swim start about 300 yards away. I got there as the first wave was lining up to start. I hurriedly pulled on my wetsuit, causing 2 small tears in the process, put on my cap and got my goggles ready. By this time 2nd wave was starting, I had managed to get ready with a whole 3 minutes to spare. Not a good way to start things off.

A few minutes later I entered the water and off we went. The swim took place in the Long Island Sound and when I had checked the water temp online a couple days before it was only 54 degrees. It definitely hadn't warmed up much since then, and my face was hurting from the cold before I had reached the first buoy. The swim, other than the cold, was uneventful. I exited the water with a swim time of 16:42 for a half mile.

Coming out of the water my feet were numb. This was probably a good thing though because the beach was very rocky and full of broken shells. I ran as fast as my numb feet would carry me to transition. The top part of my wetsuit I had shed as I came out of the water and I had taken my goggles and cap off as I ran.

When I got into transition I struggled out of the bottom part of my wetsuit which got caught up on my timing chip. Once free of the wetsuit I got my cycling shoes on, put on my number belt, sunglasses, helmet, grabbed my bike and ran out of transition. I jumped on the bike and off I went.

The first loop of the bike was uneventful. I was flying by other riders on a regular basis. It seemed like no time before I was starting on the second loop and this was a little more difficult. On the second lap we started mixing the faster racers with the slower novices that really didn't know what they were doing. High speed passing the slow and erratic made things a little dangerous and crazy.

I completed most of the second lap without incident when ahead of me I saw my friend who was doing his first tri. I caught him quickly and I glanced over to say hi and encourage him on. As I did this I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. There were people rushing into the road to slow us down. I had to lock my brakes and went into a slide barely missing a couple other bikes. (I would find out later that I had torn most of the rubber off of a section of my tire as a result, but it held long enough for me to reach the finish.) There had been an accident and they were trying to keep us from running into the downed rider.

I was quickly around them and finished the final miles without incident. I slipped my feet out of my shoes as I approached transition. My odometer told me I had only rode 12.5 miles instead of the 13.5 they had told us. I hopped off of my bike and ran into transition. Despite my toes being numb making it difficult to feel toe holes, I quickly pulled on my Vibram Sprints, grabbed my number belt and hat and was off and running.

The run course was mainly off road, with a good portion of it being on well groomed trail. There was a lot of gravel in opening stretch but my feet had become well adjusted to it and this caused me no problems. The trails themselves were a bit of an adventure. There were a couple mud pits we had to run through and at the first I hesitated a bit. If had been running in shoes I would have just jumped in but for some reason I paused a moment and contemplated my alternatives. I quickly realized I was being silly and just plunged through and didn't slow for the remainder.

The only other concern was the sections of trail that had large roots crossing them. They were a concern for any runner because they were an easy way to trip or twist an ankle. But, with VFFs I was also concerned with injuring my feet if I stepped on them incorrectly. I just carefully watched my step and danced my way through them.

The run was over before I knew it and I found myself sprinting for the line. The race itself wasn't much of a challenge because of the short distance, but I still felt like I had made a huge accomplishment. I had run longer distances in my VFFs but this was the first time I had used them in a triathlon. My feet felt great in them and they made running the trails a true joy. I found myself anxiously awaiting my next tri in them (the next weekend).