I wasn’t planning on writing a race report for the Berlin Marathon, and really, I’m still not going to. Ok sort of, but the main topic of this post is my experience of a weekend where I was running with no competitive goal, no time target, just running for the pure joy of running and experiencing a new place. It’s such a seemingly simple thing, but remarkably important and incredibly easy to lose sight of no matter what level of competition we’re at.Read more
Lavaredo had a lot of firsts for me: first time in Italy (and Austria, after driving down from Munich), first time in an ultra that big and competitive, first time competing in an ultra between April and November, and first time in a race in anything that would be considered an alpine environment. I had an unforgettable experience and I think I ran a fairly smart race, but in the end it wasn’t my best outcome. Oh, and yeah, first time in a helicopter too.
Compared to the my recent novella on The Grand Round this will be a comic strip, complete with a nice punch line at the end (actually the punch line part is bigger than the race part). I need to move on and shift my focus to the two biggest races on my calendar for the year: Ronda dels Cims and Tor Des Geants.
I owe an enormous thank you to La Sportiva on this one, who not only sponsors me but sponsors the race. Without them that punch line may have been an absolute logistical disaster. It was also great to see a number of my teammates there from across the world; congratulations go to many of them for great performances (including Sophie Grant and Rachel Normand from here in the UK – 9th and 15th females).
Lavaredo was crammed into my schedule just a few weeks after the Grand Round and a few weeks before Ronda dels Cims. I wanted to run a smart, consistent race and not go out too hard.
After looking at recent results and considering the conditions this year I thought that I could still aim for around 14 hours and see if I could slip in to the top 10 (I nailed one part of that equation – 10th place ended up being 13:59). I had actually never finished outside the top 10 in an ultra, and while I recognized that I had also never been in an ultra with such incredible competitive depth, I figured I owed it to myself to at least give it a shot.
I found someone’s results from a previous year that I could use as a template: around 40th at the first checkpoint and then consistently picked people off to finish 9th. Perfecto.
One of the reasons I wanted to focus on ultras is because I personally just enjoy the environment and the culture more than triathlon. I wasn’t sure how I would feel about the big event that some European ultras are made to be. I’ve gotta say, it was actually kind of cool (but any more would probably be too much for me). It was good to get the adrenaline going, but then within a few minutes you’re out of town, out of the crowds, and it’s just like any other ultra.
I will admit I may not have felt the same way if I was in the normal corral getting crushed by 2,000 other runners. Somehow I had enough ITRA points (things like Barkley and The Grand Round don’t get any points) to get into a reserved corral and had plenty of space. I even got to chat with Tim Tollefson and Gabe Joyes, two of those people who for me I feel like I know (from online interactions and knowing so many of the same people), but had never actually met.
Off Into the Night
At 11 PM we took off from Cortina. As planned, I started off slow. Then Caroline Cheverot passed me. Let me be clear, this wasn’t a reaction of oh I’m getting “chicked” I can’t let that happen. It was quite the opposite. It was a reaction of “there’s someone who knows the course and knows what they’re doing and is probably gunning for around the same time as me.” I slipped in behind and stayed within sight of her on the first climb. Then, for better or for worse I flew past her and a half dozen other people on the first descent.
I actually came in to the first split 3 minutes slower than my template, so all was good. Then after the aid station (all I picked up was water) I got some of the worst bloating and stomach cramps I’ve had in a race. I thought about trying to stop somewhere to force myself to poop or puke. My theory is that I overdid it a bit with eating the day of the race. Normally I sleep all night, wake up, have breakfast then run. With the night start I had a big breakfast then pretty much snacked all day.
In any case, I kept on, but could barely eat and had horrible stitches in both sides. Eventually the cramps went away but my stomach didn’t feel decent again until, well, the next day really. After that point I relied almost 100% on gel and water. I got down less than 1,000 calories during the nearly 16 hours of the race.
Even before the caloric deficit should have been a problem, though, I also just felt completely sapped of energy. Maybe it was the late start coupled with a few nights of poor sleep leading into it, maybe it was the altitude, maybe it was insufficient Grand Round recovery (probably a little of all of them), but it just felt like there was absolutely nothing there.
Caroline passed me back at mile 20 something, and shortly after that the worst thing happened. People started passing me on a big climb. Hills are for me in ultras what the run was to me in triathlon: that’s where I do my passing. But I had nothing. I couldn’t do anything other than watch them go; it was such a helpless feeling.
We got above treeline for the first time around mile 30, and after that climb the quitting thought honestly entered my head. But, I quit Barkley and Grand Round, I’ve never DNF’d a “normal” race, and as much as it might suck I was going to continue running on fumes all the way to the finish barring injury.
Here Comes the Sun
But at the top of that climb came the sunrise, and the first beautiful views from the top of the Dolomites. I also got a pep talk from Matteo from La Sportiva and he set my sights on what lay ahead: a nice long somewhat sort of almost technical descent.
Up to that point the race had basically been a series of gravel roads, and I completely felt like a fish out of water. The descent gave me some energy and confidence back, and after dropping about 10 spots over the previous 15 miles I stopped the bleeding and held position to the big support point “halfway” in (How to frustrate an ultrarunner? Put their drop bag at the “halfway” point, 5K past actually halfway.)
For the next few hours I was completely alone in the most remote and most technical section of the course (but still, really not technical). It was glorious, just a fun day in the mountains. It didn’t matter where anyone else was, I was back in my element.
Then came another long descent. Time to get back to this whole racing thing. I cruised down it, my legs continually seeming to gain strength. I’m nearly convinced at this point that my body takes about 50K to get warmed up. I was feeling strong and ready to make a final charge.
Then with 16 miles to go someone told me it was all downhill, and me, knowing there was a final long downhill stretch and being stupid enough to believe that person, let it rip a bit more before encountering a pretty good climb. When I got to the top I was excited again and thought this must be the big final downhill. That pattern repeated itself no less than 6 times, a mental dagger every time.
When we finally did hit the last big downhill stretch (with about 8 miles left) I took off out of frustration more than anything. I flew down the mountain, the temperature continuing to rise as I arrived in the valley. I came back into town feeling pretty good and enjoyed my run through the chute.
Yay, a Helicopter Too?!
After finishing I sat down for a few minutes, and the hard effort, the heat, and the nausea I had battled for the last 15 hours all finally caught up with me. I was taken to the med tent, where they took my blood pressure and stuck an IV in me. Ok, I thought, that’s normal and it will probably help my recovery anyway.
After a bit, all I wanted to do was go back to the hotel and take a nap. I had just finished hard in a hot race after running all night; it seemed that being hot, nauseous, and sleepy were quite reasonable things. Then I actually did manage to puke. Perfect! I feel much better now!
But at some point they decided to take an EKG. I had no chest pain, and absolutely nothing other than the hot and sleepy thing (nausea gone now!). I also don’t speak Italian and had no idea what they were saying or doing. Next thing I know I’m in the back of an ambulance going to the local hospital.
They hooked me up to a better machine and some more people looked at it. At this point I’ve kind of figured out what’s going on and I try to explain to them that my EKG has certain abnormalities in it that are well-studied, perfectly normal, and nothing to be concerned about for an endurance athlete. Let me re-emphasize: I don’t speak Italian. At one point I even tried Spanish.
It comes to the point where they’re telling me I may have had a heart attack and I need to go via helicopter to a better hospital where a cardiologist can see me. I’m still 99% sure there is absolutely nothing wrong, but when “heart attack” is thrown around that 1% chance looms pretty large. So, off in the helicopter I go. My first ride in one! And over such a beautiful landscape! Except, I was strapped to a gurney and couldn’t see anything at all.
The cardiologist started doing an echocardiogram. It’s basically a sonogram of the heart, and the last time I’d seen one of those there was definitely an abnormality: two babies instead of one. By this time I had also managed to reach Jessi, and when the cardiologist left for a bit I called her. I’m an OCD data scientist, of course I have EKGs of myself stored on my computer. I also work in cyber security, of course sensitive medical documents are stored in a hidden encrypted folder with a 24 character passphrase and a keyfile. I walked Jessi through the process of unlocking it and sending me a previous EKG (great, now I’m going to have to change it all because the NSA was probably listening to our phone call 😛).
When the cardiologist walked back in I showed it to her. “Oh, it looks exactly the same. This is normal for you.” So there I was. No heart attack, but stuck in a hospital in who knows where. They still tried to wheel me in for a chest x-ray, but at that point I at least knew that no is still no in Italian. I had been scanned about 4 different ways and over a dozen needles had been stuck into me. Grazie, but I’m done.
I was wheeled into the recovery room, to await…. ok I have no idea what to do now. Fortunately the people at La Sportiva were on top of things. You know, the ones who actually speak Italian. They found an English speaking taxi driver who came into the hospital to tell me how to get myself out of there, and then drove me the 1.5 hours back to Cortina. At around midnight I was finally back in my hotel room and allowed to sleep.
It was an unbelievably frustrating experience, but let me be clear: I hold absolutely no ill feelings towards a single one of those doctors. On the contrary, I’m incredibly grateful that they did their jobs so well. It was kind of amazing to see a system in work where the utmost caution is taken in the patient’s best interest regardless of what it takes. I’ll admit I do feel a bit better knowing I got such a thorough exam after a race and checked out just fine. If anything, I feel a bit guilty that I wasn’t able to explain things a bit better due to the language barrier and that I used resources that I really didn’t need.
There is just one thing for me that is a problem, and is unforgivable really. My favorite post-race meal is pizza and ice cream. And there I was in freaking Italy for the first time ever, and my post-race meal consisted of some unidentifiable mush in a hospital recovery room. This injustice must be corrected. Tor Des Geants just became even more important…
Oh, about that race
My summary observations:
- If you look at place, I actually ran a fairly good race: first checkpoint at 37th, then dropped to somewhere in the 40s during my low point, then on the 2nd half worked my way up to 32nd overall, 29th male (so I reiterate, Can a Woman Finish Barkley?).
- I need to be more mindful of eating on race day for a night start
- If I’m going to compete at events of that caliber, they definitely need and deserve more focus. Three weeks of maintenance mode isn’t enough. I do think I’m capable of top 10 at something like that, but I also think that if I’m going to focus on fewer things then I should probably choose things that I’m more well-suited for. The more elevation, technical terrain, miserable conditions, briar patches, navigation, weird old guys with a cigarette and a sea shell, etc. that are thrown in the better I can do.
So bring on Ronda and TDG, a bit more my style. 🙂
Gear and Nutrition
I wore the same thing the entire time despite the big swing in temperature and I ate pretty much only one thing, so this will be pretty simple. I have relationships with a number of the companies below, which you can see on my Partners page (and find a few discount codes).
For the food, it was just two flasks of my Raspberry / Peanut Butter Chocolate Hammer Gel mix, along with a couple of cups of fruit at later aid stations (kind of like Dole fruit cups, but Italian).
I again went with the XOSKIN double socks – toe socks with normal socks over top. I also used Run Goo on my feet again. I have absolutely no scientific data to back this decision up, but with that strategy now having resulted in absolutely perfect feet after both the 72 hours of continuous wetness of the Grand Round and the heat and fast descents of Lavaredo, it’s going to be what I do every, single, time.
I also used XOSKIN compression shorts and a form-fit short-sleeved shirt the entire time. Over the socks I wore La Sportiva Akasha with Ultimate Direction FK Gaiters, and I accessorized myself with a UD Ultra Vest and a Petzl Actik Core (compact but stayed nice and bright for the full 6 hours of darkness).
I had a pair of Black Diamond poles because I really wanted something collapsible for this race, and they did quite well. They were just a little heavier than I’ve become accustomed to.
I did not achieve what I was aiming for on The Grand Round, but I ended up with more than I could have hoped for. I have never been more proud of a failed pursuit or gained as many unexpected positive outcomes. Of course I wish a few things had gone differently and that I had been able to finish. I’m an overly competitive goal-driven Type A perfectionist who is horrible company for a “casual” game of anything, and falling short will always gnaw at me. I went out to seek a challenge, though, and based on the criteria I laid out I got exactly what I was seeking. If everything was predictable, there would be no excitement or passion, no adventure, no exploration. In a way, the plan has to be for things to not go according to plan.
As it stands I had an incredible adventure and learned a great deal, both specific to the challenge itself and more broadly applicable to my own life. I also learned that there is at least one thing that I can reliably plan on: the passion and selfless support of the fell running community. I’m still in a bit of disbelief at their generosity, and I come from a place that I’d say epitomizes southern hospitality. I’ll tell you what, though, we sure ain’t got no monopoly on kindness.Read more
I wanted to get my thoughts on why I’m doing this “Grand Round” out ahead of time, before they’re forever altered by the pain, joy, and experience of actually doing it. For my own sake as much as anything, I wanted them crystallized in writing and set aside for me to reflect on afterwards. Because honestly, I’m terrified. This is likely to be more challenging than even Barkley, and I haven’t been this terrified of anything I’ve attempted since my very first attempt at Barkley. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing; actually I’d say the opposite.Read more
Training for Barkley is a bit of a conundrum as it is. There are so many variables involved in the race that it is impossible to optimize training for all of them. This year I had a couple more wrinkles thrown in: I was getting ready for a big move and trying to somewhat hide the fact that I was doing Barkley. At the same time, though, I had the benefit of more experience and more confidence under my belt, and a much different mindset approaching the race.Read more
I have no idea what this post is going to end up looking like. I just have some thoughts that I want to attempt to get out, and we’ll see where it goes.
I’ll also preface this by saying that this is 100% my opinion and feelings on what I do and why. As far as I’m concerned, what anyone else does is completely up to them and none of my business as long as they’re not endangering others. And that’s my main goal I guess is to try to ensure that people aren’t needlessly doing stupid things for the wrong reasons or without the proper training and preparation on account of me. I have 3 kids, and after seeing my 4 year old scramble up a briar and scree-covered 60 degree slope like a mountain goat a few days ago I know that there are enough problems my genes will cause without adding me setting a poor example.
So the general topic of this post, at least, is the trend in endurance sports of glorifying pain, needlessly disregarding sensible safety precautions, and trying to look like the biggest, hardest “badass” instead of just going out there for the personal challenge and the experience. Some people probably are going to have problems with this or get offended by it, but I feel like I need to say it, especially with people out there putting their lives at risk for nothing more than taking a cool selfie.
“I was urinating dark dirt brown”
Again, what someone else chooses to do to themselves is up to them and I really try to not single people out in any sort of negative light, but it’s hard to broach this subject without mentioning “the hardest man alive” and I do have a problem with this kind of stuff being passed off as motivational or as an example to others. For the context around the title of this section, see the excerpt from his blog posted here. (I’m not a reddit user myself but this is what came up when I Googled that anecdote). If you have more time on your hands you can also listen to his interview on the Joe Rogan podcast.
The guy is tough, no question. He has an amazing life story, has accomplished some unbelievably incredible things, has done great work for charity, and has no doubt inspired a lot of people. That’s all awesome. But I don’t view unnecessarily putting yourself at serious risk of major health complications or even death as a positive example and I don’t want anything I do to influence someone in that way. He was in real need of medical attention and continued on, making it even worse, for the sake of a race. And frankly, not even an “important” one. Some things are worth it, some are not.
That’s especially the case when the risk is primarily caused by lack of proper preparation. I’ve mentioned before that I’m all about jumping in the deep end and seeing if I can swim, but when I start to sink and someone throws me a life preserver I’m not going to say “no thanks let me enjoy the pain of water filling my lungs.” I’m going to get out and use the knowledge I just gained to know what I need to do the next time. Even when risking your life might be worth it, like in actual war, you’ve gotta know when to cut your losses.
For me, the pleasure has never been in the pain; it’s been in overcoming the obstacles that cause the pain. This is a perception I find myself coming up against constantly, with Barkley being viewed as a “masochistic” race. And yes, I do voluntarily put myself through and force myself to push past a lot of pain. There’s just a line, and for me that line is when I’m creating a high risk of permanent or long term health consequences.
This is something I haven’t told many people, but after IM Mont-Tremblant, where I was pushing for the age group win and my first sub 9 hour Ironman, I peed red. Blood red. It was like Kool-Aid. Did I stand there and laugh and say “oh man, look how tough I am!”? Nope. It scared the absolute @#%& out of me like few things ever have. And it gave me serious pause as to whether I should be doing what I was doing.
I told the doctor in the med tent, and she had me wait around until I could use the bathroom again. Fortunately it was clear the next time and she said it was just dehydration. If it had been red again, or brown, good chance I wouldn’t still be at it, at least not at the same level. My health, and my ability to grow old and be there for my kids, is far more important than finishing some race in some certain time. And yeah, it’s a real fine line to walk. I want to find what I’m capable of and inspire my kids and others, showing them what you can accomplish if you really set your mind to it and work for it, but without going too far.
Amelia Boone has also put her body through some incredibly tough things and accomplished some amazing feats. She’s a 4 time world champion in obstacle course racing, has been called the “Queen of Pain,” and even with her consistent success in OCR she wanted to branch into ultrarunning to continue challenging herself and pushing her boundaries. I also have a great deal of respect for her and consider her a friend. She knows that some risks are worth it and that sometimes you have to back off, e.g. by focusing on health instead of running Barkley with a fractured heel and pushing further past the breaking point (pun not originally intended, but I do love a good pun… sorry Amelia 🙂). She isn’t afraid to share that with people and expose that she’s not, in fact, invincible. Note: to be clear, nothing in this post is Amelia’s thought or opinion; I’m just using her as an involuntary example.
Then why do I do it?
There are quite a few reasons. And sure, one of them is because I’ve always been super competitive and love having something I can compete at now that my stellar grad school intramural softball and flag football career is over. I could easily find something for that competitive urge that doesn’t involve continuously pushing my body to the brink, though (anyone up for a game of ping-pong?).
The main reason is that I love to discover new things about myself: most of all new strengths and new things I never thought I was capable of, but also what my weaknesses are (hi swimming, my name is John). That translates to so many other areas of my life, ones that matter much more than some race through the mountains in Tennessee, and I hope translates to other people’s lives as well.
I’ve had the great joy of being able to do that through an activity that I also love: running aimlessly (randomly, if you will) through forests and mountains. So I get to kill two birds with one stone, and I hope that everyone is able to discover something that allows them to do that: whether it’s running, analyzing data and writing code (oops, that one’s me too), music, reading, traveling, or any of the other countless hobbies out there.
At the end of the day, that’s all I am: an overly competitive guy doing the hobby I love who has had the good fortune of discovering that I’m also rather good at it. I’m not a badass, or a stud, or a hero, or a legend, or a warrior. I appreciate the sentiment, and I know people mean well, but to be honest I just feel a little awkward whenever anyone calls me those things (and what do we then call people who actually are those things?). In fairness, though, taking a compliment in any form has never exactly been one of my strengths.
But whether you’re a proponent of those terms or not, I think the key here is that I do these things out of internal motivation, not to try to show people how tough I am. I greatly appreciate the words of encouragement I receive and I’m really, truly amazed and grateful that people can take motivation and inspiration from something I do (that’s one reason I have this blog in the first place), but otherwise I wouldn’t care if people even knew that I run.
And if you want to call me something, then John will do just fine. Or for a select few, Dad. Or, since I’m moving to a country where they still hand out crowns just for coming out of the right womb, I guess King of Frozen Head will also do. 😉
I know I haven’t posted anything in a while. The whole moving to the UK thing hasn’t left much time for writing blog posts. On the running side, though, here’s a bit of what I’ve been up to in the past month.
I did this as a fun project and challenge on my home turf, not really as anything related to Barkley. It was a personal challenge, and I chose to share in hopes that it would motivate others to set their own big challenges, or to come visit the park to challenge some of the records. I think it’s safe to say, though, that Brett’s record isn’t going anywhere. Probably ever. Plus, no one will ever run that same course again… it totally wouldn’t trigger the segment on Strava.
Even by my standards this is really, really late for a race report. But that is in no way a commentary itself on the race, I’ve just been a bit busy with the whole moving to another country thing. It was an extremely well organized event with a great community and a challenging course that I came away from with quite a few lessons. Thank you to Rob Goyen, Trail Racing Over Texas, and the volunteers who put this race together, and also to Gina Fioroni, John Sharp, and Jaime Aparicio, my impromptu crew who turned out to be invaluable when things didn’t exactly go as I planned.Read more
If you understand both references in the title of this post, then your invitation to the triathlon sci-fi geeks club should already be in the mail. Next week we’ll be re-enacting the Battle of Endor with TT bikes. It’s totally safe. Completely. (but be sure to sign those waivers… you know, just in case).
This will be my last “last” triathlon post. There were just a few things left unsaid, and a few things worth repeating, that I wanted to put into a proper farewell post. I’ll start with what I will and won’t miss, and finish with why I actually left. And no these lists aren’t comprehensive, just some of the highlights.Read more
Ironman Arizona was a fitting end to my time in competitive triathlon. It was a caricature really, of all my races to that point: an absolute disaster of a swim, a solid bike that held things together, and a great run. I had no concrete goals before the race; just to enjoy the experience of racing as a professional and go out with a good effort. Given the course, I assumed I would come away with a PR (which I did! by 26 seconds). Otherwise, though, this was more of a celebration than a competition for me – the cap to a long year and both my professional debut and finale.
Thank you to everyone who helped me pursue and achieve what I did in triathlon, whether tangibly or in spirit. It was a fun challenge and journey, but definitely not one without its difficulties. I’m looking forward to the next chapter, the next book really. But first, here’s the last chapter of this one (with maybe an epilogue to come).
I thought I’d be one year and done in triathlon, but the sport and the challenge of trying something different sucked me in and resulted in a great, fun few years. Unfortunately, though, time is finite. It’s time to spend the last years of my prime (for endurance sports) focusing on the thing I love even more and am best at. But first, one last race, as a pro, at Ironman Arizona. Sarah Wassner Flynn did a great write up for Triathlete Magazine on my journey and my race this weekend.
When it comes to racing as a professional triathlete, John Kelly’s triathlon career will be one and done. John Kelly is a standout age-grouper triathlete who has had a very impressive 2018: multiple podium finishes, an 8:58 Ironman PR, and a world championship title.
Kona was again an awesome experience overall: a great week before the race with Team EMJ, and a better week afterwards with Jessi. For the race itself, though, I’m honestly not 100% sure where to start. I made no secret that my goal was to return and make it on to the podium after falling just short in 2017, and that a year of training was focused on that. I managed a sub 9 hour finish, a time at Kona that I can be proud of by any measure, but I fell well short of the podium. I am incredibly fortunate to have even been able to pursue that goal, and oftentimes the pursuit of a goal can be more valuable and enjoyable than its achievement.
So I’ve had a lot of shifting and at times conflicting emotions since the race, and I’m not even sure that how I feel now is how I’ll feel next week. I don’t even know where this post is going to go exactly. I’m just going to transcribe my thoughts as best I can as they come to me. Some of those thoughts I’m going to compartmentalize into separate posts, though, as I want this post to be about my race itself rather than about larger issues within triathlon (Ironman specifically).
Ironman Mont-Tremblant was special for a number of reasons: the maple syrup, the poutine, the awesome course and scenery, the people, my actual race. But the best part by far was that for the first time my entire family was there. The twins are too young to be able to remember it later on, but it was still awesome to have them all here and for my kids to get to see me do that while I still can. So it’s equally important to point out what it took to make that possible: my wife wrangling a 4 year old and 1 year old twins at an Ironman that required off-site parking and a shuttle system. I’m thrilled with my own performance, but actually probably fewer people have pulled off what she did. I also owe a huge thank you to my teammates and their families who offered to help in so many ways.
As for my race, I am thrilled to have pulled out a sub 9 on a difficult course (and my new favorite course), an age group win, and top 10 overall including the pros. This was just a great event in a great area, made better by being with family and teammates. Thank you to all the great people I met here as well who gave such amazing support and made this such a friendly and exciting atmosphere. Next up, Kona!
Apparently Jeremy Sanders (Running Dad) and I ran a race together a few years ago when I was just starting back to running and before either of us knew who the other was. I was happy to answer some questions from him and then actually meet him for real at Miner’s Lady 8 Hour over the weekend. He’s a great guy and I’ll look forward to our next time on the trails together.
So much focus goes into getting to the finish line of a race, but the real journey is usually getting to the start. IM Boulder was much earlier in the year than I’ve ever done an Ironman, but the support of my family and my teammates got me to that starting line. The years of accumulated training and experience kicked in for that final 140.6 mile stretch.
On an incredibly hot and at times downright miserable day, I was thrilled (and honestly, relieved) in a way that I’ve been for few other races to make it all the way to that finish line Adversity breeds achievement, and everyone who made it to the finish line that day should be proud of it.
I also managed to accomplish my main goal in doing an early season race: securing my Kona slot with an age group win and 2nd overall amateur finish.
After a compressed winter ultrarunning season, with 3 races (Lookout Mountain, Bandera, and TWOT), 2 FKTs (AT 4 State and SCAR), and 1 weekend as the Barkley Marathons utility man, it’s time to fully switch into triathlon mode. Well, now that I’ve also had a little fun with a transition race at the London Marathon.
A large number of condolences went to extremely strong women in 2018, so much so that laz dubbed it the ‘year of the woman.’ Unfortunately some of those strong women didn’t make it to the starting line for one reason or another, but there were still some very good contenders in the field this year. Quite a big deal has been made over the years about the lack of a woman finisher at Barkley, and laz loves to get people (and especially talented women) riled up by saying a woman can’t finish.
The SCAR was a tough challenge, but one that I enjoyed every minute of. I came away from it with a whole new appreciation for the Great Smoky Mountains, and barely snagged the unsupported fastest known time. The run traverses the length of the national park on the Appalachian Trail, a 72 mile stretch with close to 18K feet of gain and loss. Most of it is right along the border of the two states that mean the most to me: Tennessee, where I was born and raised along with 6 generations of Kellys before me, and North Carolina, where I went to college, met my wife, and where her family calls home.
I also once again owe her a huge thank you for dropping me off in the middle of nowhere before proceeding on her own the remaining 1.5 hours to my parents house with all 3 kids late at night. On the other end of the run David Abraham, part of my extended family, was incredibly kind in driving out and waiting around in the middle of nowhere for me to show up a bit later than anticipated. And without the awesome community of trail runners in the area I probably wouldn’t have even known about the SCAR, much less known enough to attempt it.
I was fortunate to have perfect weather in January and great company for my fastest known time attempt on the AT 4 State Challenge, the section of the Appalachian Trail that starts at the Pennsylvania border and travels through Maryland and West Virginia to the Virginia border. It was a beautiful stretch of trail with a rich heritage and I can’t imagine a better way to spend a day of running. Conrad Laskowski and Chris Roberts joined me for the day and while I hope they enjoyed it just as much, I owe them a huge thanks for coming out and providing the company, the support, and of course for making the logistics of getting back to the start afterwards easier. And as always, I owe my wife Jessi a huge thanks for providing the support back home for letting me get out for the day to try these crazy things in the first place. At the end I ended up with a new FKT in 6:39:51 and a new appreciation for some of the terrain I have in my own backyard.
Lookout Mountain would be a great addition to anyone’s 50 miler list. The event and the course really typify what I love about trail and ultrarunning. It’s a great, low-key community of people putting on a well-organized race on a course with incredible trails and views. And it’s great knowing that the proceeds from the race are going back towards those trails. Thank you to Wild Trails and all the volunteers for such a great event.
I was thrilled to come away with the win against great competition. It turns out the race was also the RRCA Ultra National Championship, which is a pretty cool bonus (although let’s be real there are plenty of people in the country who can handily beat me in a 50 miler).
I also learned some great lessons, the biggest being to stop worrying about the details and just run! I caught a stomach bug the day before the race and absolutely none of my “all-important” pre-race preparations that I usually worry so much about went right. Sure, some of that stuff matters a little and given the choice I’d rather have it be right, but in the end, the cumulative training and experience built up through time and hard work are vastly more important than the final 24 hours. The issues before the race forced me to run one of the smartest races I’ve ever run and I may have actually ended off better from it.
One of my favorite parts of running and biking is exploring new places, but there’s still something comforting and exhilarating about the familiarity of a regular, well-trodden route. Like being in the company of an old friend, we can let our minds relax and just enjoy being there.
As a follow-up to running a local 5K, I wanted to post some of my favorite local routes. The landscapes, climates, and infrastructures of the areas we call home have a huge influence on how and why we train and our experiences doing it. It’s fun to dream about far off mountains and incredibly scenic races, but we should all have an appreciation of and make the best of wherever we find ourselves at the moment. Need some ideas for routes around your area? Check out the local groups that make up our running and biking communities, and that create a lot of the infrastructure, opportunities, and support that make training and racing possible in the first place.
A large part of what’s below originally appeared in a blog post for Chopt a few months ago, when they were creating local destination salads and focusing on the local farms that make up their supply chain.
While the elite road runners of the world were at the New York City Marathon, and a lot of ultra runners were recovering from races like Javelina Jundred and Pinhoti 100, I ran a local 5K! The real performance of the day came from my 3 year old son, though, who crushed the one mile fun run. I originally signed up for the 5K because it was right after that and I thought, why not have my own fun run (by the normal definition, not the Barkley definition)?
This isn’t really a race report, as obviously I would never do a report for a “race” like this (I did throw a small one in, though). This is more a set of unexpected lessons I took away from the experience and if anything it’s more related to training than to racing. I’ve posted before about choosing goals and failure when pursuing them. This looks a bit at using component-level goals to build towards those main ones. A lot of training components go into meeting my primary racing goals, and having individual goals for each of those components is an effective, and fun, way of improving.
And in case your news feed was buried in football and you missed the first American woman winning the NYC Marathon in 40 years, check out the finish video below (this was the only video I can find that appears to actually be licensed on youtube).
This was a bit last minute, but the timing worked out perfectly to talk about Kona and my journey there from Barkley. It’s always great to chat with Ethan and Kim!
Kona was an unforgettable experience. The race was incredible to be a part of, especially with so many of my teammates there to share the experience with. The trip itself was an amazing time with my wife – some time off like we really haven’t had the chance to have in over four years. In fact it was all a bit much to put into one post, so this is just the race report itself. The rest of the trip will come separately.
My race went well, finishing as the 26th amateur, 60th overall, and 10th American male. That came after coming out of the water in 854th place, putting together a solid bike, and then turning in the 2nd fastest amateur run for the day. The support we received as a team throughout the event from our sponsors, family, and friends (as if the support during training isn’t enough) was unbelievable and a huge boost throughout the day and the typical rough Kona conditions.
As much as I love to race in new places and experience new challenges, there are really few things better than going back to race in East TN where I grew up. The Ironman 70.3 World Championship being in Chattanooga this year gave me the perfect opportunity to do that, and to do it against the best in the world. To make it even better Jessi was able to come watch her first triathlon of the season, we got to spend some time with friends and family, and I was joined by a large group of guys from Team Every Man Jack. And of course without all of their support, plus our great sponsors, competing at these races wouldn’t even be possible.
The course was amazing, as was the competition. Apparently the course was one of the hardest 70.3 courses people have seen, but I’ve only seen one other 70.3 course and to me it just seemed like a bunch of fun hills to play on. I had a strong bike, and actually a swim that could have been worse and a run that could have been better, to put me 19th in AG and tied for 99th overall. For a world championship, at that distance, I’m pretty happy to come away with a top 100.
I had a great time at Ironman Lake Placid racing with Team Every Man Jack and bringin’ home the maple syrup! I was also incredibly fortunate to have my brother to support me and to be able to spend the weekend there with him.
The course was incredible and the race went well: 3rd in age group, 6th amateur, 18th overall, and 3rd fastest run overall. As usual my teammates James DeFilippi, Michael Hoffman, and Clay Emge turned in outstanding performances, with Clay leading the way with the top amateur finish and 5th overall. A number of other teammates also showed up just to support us – I’m constantly amazed by what a great group this is.
Conditions were tough at IM 70.3 Syracuse this year, with strong currents and chop on the swim, wind on the bike, and heat on the run, but Team Every Man Jack turned in a solid performance! Greg Grosicki finished 2nd overall, I snagged 5th overall and 1st in my age group, and Michael Hoffman was first out of the water and 5th in his age group. My goal was to do well enough to grab a spot to the IM 70.3 World Championship in Chattanooga, and I’m happy to say that I punched that ticket and will be heading to my home state in September to race against the best.
As usual I wouldn’t have even made it the race, let alone raced well, if not for quite a bit of help: from my wife’s unwavering support, to my parents coming to help with the kids the weekend of the race, to my teammate James Defilippi for lending me his wheels for the race. I’m extremely lucky to have such great family and teammates.
In the weeks leading up to the Columbia Triathlon, I actually considered a DNS for the first time in my life. My post Barkley “indulgence period” had been a bit longer than expected and I hadn’t kept myself in the best shape. There were also delays getting some rather important parts for my new bike, like, you know, wheels. Finally, some big travel had come up for work that would sandwich the race. I had to travel to Europe the week of the race, which was a bit of a disaster where I averaged less than 4 hours of sleep per night including spending a night homeless on the rainy streets of London, and then go straight from the race to the airport to fly to Hong Kong.
The race was planned as a tune-up to jumpstart my triathlon season, though. I figured that no matter the outcome, I would at least accomplish that. I also still had the incredible support of my family, and teammates even more amazing than I originally thought, so I moved forward with my plans.
In the end, things didn’t really work out the way that I planned. After finishing 2nd overall, I noticed from my GPS data that I missed a turn on the run course. I reported myself to the race director and got DQ’d. I can’t thank the RD enough for everything he did to try to get the best outcome after my course error, but in the end rules are rules. I’m still glad I did the race, and if nothing else it was great preparation for the rest of the season. It’s also an outstanding event with a course that I really love (I can’t get enough hills). Read more
When I considered joining a triathlon team after the 2016 season, I really had no idea what was out there. I was (and still am) quite new to the sport and had been improvising up to that point. I knew almost no other triathletes and I wanted to find a group of people with similar goals that could help me learn more about the sport and the community. As I researched teams, my sights landed squarely on Team Every Man Jack: they were a team of extremely good athletes, but they also made it a top priority to be great ambassadors for the sport and to avoid having anyone on the team with the arrogant, elitist mindset that can unfortunately be found in triathlon.
I originally signed up for The Wild Oak Trail (TWOT) 100 as practice for Barkley. As I learned more about the race, though, I became quite excited about it in its own right. While I stuck to my original plan of using it primarily as part of Barkley training, that excitement was justified. It was a really fun race that’s actually about 112 miles with 30K ft of climbing on a gorgeous trail in Virginia. I met some great people, had no major problems during the race, and came away with a new course record.
A huge thanks goes to Antoinette Landragin and the volunteers that made this exactly the kind of race I love: low key but well organized and on some great trail with great people. Also thank you to Antoinette and John Daniel for the pictures.
Hellgate was an awesome race, and actually my first “normal” ultra over the 50 mile mark. It was a bit colder than I’d hoped for, but otherwise was a great night (and morning) in beautiful mountains and a chance to meet some more incredible people in the ultrarunning community. This is a race that I’ll definitely be back to at some point, and can definitely see it as being one of the primary races I focus on in the future.
As always the community and race organizers were to thank for making the race so enjoyable; without that I’d probably just stick to trail running on my own and wouldn’t do these things. Thank you in particular to Scott Livingston for some pictures from the race, as I actually didn’t get any myself. And of course without my wife’s support and her making it possible for me to shirk dad duties for a day, I wouldn’t be able to do these things at all.
JFK 50 is America’s oldest ultra, local for me, and it was on my birthday this year… how could I not sign up? It was also my first big, well-known ultra and a great opportunity to get out there and knock the rust off of my trail running legs after my triathlon season ended in October. I enjoyed the race, it turned out to be a beautiful day (at least while I was on the course), and for the cherry on top I got to share the experience with my dad while he was in town.
I ended up in 8th, something I didn’t think I had a shot at given the conditions, and Jim Walmsley broke the record in a 54 year old race by over 13 minutes.
Ironman Maryland was the focus of my 2016 triathlon season, and it was a relief just to get to race day. My wife Jessi was 35 weeks pregnant, and with twins we knew that in the weeks leading up to the race that they could arrive at any time. I had continued training as if the race was a sure thing, but obviously the race was far from my most important concern and at any moment I could be dropping everything and end up with my first DNS (did not start).
Not only did Eric write a great article, he filled out a witness verification form for me for my Guinness World Record application!
John Kelly figures he has the record. The 31-year-old native of Rockville Md. crossed the finish line of the 120th Boston Marathon on Monday with a time of two hours, 57 minutes, which by his estimation is some 12 minutes faster than Neil Light managed in last year’s Virgin Money London Marathon.
My first Ironman was supposed to be my last. I signed up for it on a bit of a whim, out of curiosity in what I could do with a new type of challenge and to fill a gap after qualifying for the Boston Marathon and having to wait a year and a half to run it. I thought it would be fun to see what I could do in triathlon, so naturally I signed up for an Ironman.