2012 Three Days at the Fair

189.7 miles covered in 72 hours

221 laps of the .85whatever loop

7 more laps than last year

58 hours spent on my feet

12.25 hours time spent tossing, turning and sleeping

1.75 additional hours off my feet

1.5 hours, the rough estimate of how many MORE hours I was out there moving this year compared to last year, when I covered 183.5 miles.

78 reported high temp

39 reported low temp two nights. Next year, don’t pack like you’re heading to Nags Head in August!

8th overall place. This year’s total woulda been 4th last year

4 people I spent significant amounts of time with out there. Special thanks to Fred Murolo, Steve Tursi, Melissa Huggins and Bob Ring for all the laughs, convo, shared suffering.

23:00 The rough equivalent, says RD Rick McNulty, of my final 5K

0 inches of rain

1 more life-changing deal

So here's the thing ...

I have really, truly tried to do it. Be all bad. Be hard-nosed and tough. Set a goal and be serious about reaching it. Rock out and reach for the stars. Grab for the epic. Man up.

Three Days at the Fair is May 10-13. I've been saying 200 miles for awhile now. I've been writing it down. Tweeting it. Blogging it. Dreaming about it. Using it as a number during visualization.

Truth: When it comes right down to it, I got nothin'. Not really. Not like so many of my awesome, bad-ass ultrarunning friends.

I have been saying since this time last year that I really, really, REALLY want 200 miles. That I'm gonna work and toil and bust my gut and suffer like a dawg and do whatever it takes to push through the pain and misery and smack that 200-mile barrier square in the face and make it bleed red all OVER the place.

Reality check: I really don't care about 200 miles. Or even getting as far as the 183.5 miles that I did last year.

Absolute truth: I just want to have a good time. Laugh a bunch. Hear some good stories. Maybe tell a few. Push the pace every now and again. Walk sometimes when it's a bit too hot or when somebody needs a friend for awhile. Eat some yummy food. Take some great sleep breaks and then get up and walk a lap or two and then start running again. Surprise myself a time or two. Make a couple new friends.

Here's the thing: I want to totally embrace as many moments as I can stand from 9 a.m. next Thursday through 9 a.m. next Sunday. Run when I feel like it. Walk when I feel like it. Go until I'm ready to fall over with sleep, and then wake up when I wake up and do it all over again.

I'm about as fit as I can be. I'm stronger than I've been in forever. I'm running with more joy than I can remember. All systems seem to be poised on "Go."

OK, so maybe I have a goal after all — to soak in as much fun as possible.

U100 Finish Number TWELVE

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be sitting here. Twelve Umstead 100-mile finishes. Twelve.

And this 12th one was the most fun of all. No suffering. No nausea. No sleepiness. No blisters. (Note to self: Dude, keep on getting yourself sub-23-hour fit and then go at snail's pace. Wayyyyyyy more fun this way!)

Joy joy joy. This one was all about joy. Umstead at its purest. Umstead at its absolute best.

Thanks to those who ran with me. Thanks to those who volunteered. Thanks a ton to Team Gaylord, Tammy Gray (!!!), Beth Minnick (!!!), Fred "Doom" Dummar,  RD Blake Norwood, assistant RDs Joe Lugiano and Rhonda Hampton, Sally Squier and her crew at AS1 and Dorothy Hunter and all the rock stars at AS2, and everybody else who had a kind word, rang a cow bell, hollered my name, called me a baby and told me start running again. One amazing day and a bit.

Here's some of what I hope I'll remember forever ...

 • Getting longtime friend Bill Burns through much of the second half of his 8th lap when he was completely fried. Met him at AS2 while he was having some soup and looking like death warmed over. Talked him into getting out of that chair and going for a little walk. Walked and walked and talked and talked with him until I was pretty sure he couldn't stand to hear the sound of my twang any longer — and by then he only had a bit less than 2 miles left. Topics covered: NFL football. College admissions process. Hinson Lake 24-Hour tales from years gone by. The irony that we probably talked through these very same matters LAST year when I picked him at that that very same place and in about the very same shape. Burnsie is pure stud. I am proud to call him my friend.

• Seeing Jenny Nichols in cruise mode, complete with her award-winning smile, several times out there on the course as she rocked and rolled her way to a 22-hour finish. Your hugs out there were solid awesomeness. So impressed with the way you took care of business for your first 100-mile finish, rock star. Make that first of m-a-n-y!!!

• Lending a hand to my friend Linda Banks in her big ol' time of need late Saturday night or early Sunday morning, whenever that mondo thunderstorm decided to finally break bad and throw us a couple right-left combos. So I'm heading up the hill after that unmanned aid station that's at 3.5M/10.75M on the loop and is complete with port-a-johns when I see a runner up ahead in the distance looking back. Wait. Is she screaming? Pick up the pace a bit and, oh my gosh, it's Linda Banks. And she's kinda freaked out. Sorry about my headlamp in your eyes. What? Your pacers? You've gotten separated from your pacers? They think you're still in one of the port-a-johns? Oh. Tell you what. I'll double back and get 'em. So off I go. To mass commotion as I pass group after group of runner and pacer, each of whom think I've lost my freakin' mind because I'm heading in the wrong direction. And can't really hear that I'm asking, "Yo! Are you Linda Banks’ pacers?" because the wind is howling. Finally, I make contact with the pacing pair, and back we go. Was maybe a half-mile round-trip. Didn't affect my "race" at all really. And totally, completely needed to be done.

• Absolutely nailing the fueling for the first time in for. ev. er. Being so steady with a gel every 1:30, nibbling on a baggie of Chex mix with cheese cubes and dried fruit all day and night (!!!), slurping chicken broth throughout the dark, and staying with steady consumption of Gatorade, decaf sweet tea and water. And MAN did those two plain hot dogs with no buns taste awesome midway through that last lap.

• Amy Surrette doing the LAST FIFTY MILES with horrible blisters to knock out her first 100. Susan Dummar clocking a PR and then finding out several days later that she needed emergency gall bladder surgery! 

• Sprinting the final half-mile with the world-famous and completely fabulous Toni Aurilio. Crying like a baby along with Team Gaylord hard dawgs Rob Colenso and Bob Gaylord as they rushed Toni up and down and up to her 23:57 finish line. Toni clocked 24:11 last year and really, really, really wanted a sub-24. To be lucky enough to be along for that final push -- even though I still had another lap to do myself after that -- has to be among the highlights of my running career. Thank you for  letting me share in your amazing spirit, dear Toni.

• Being so full of running for my 8th and final lap. Deciding when I would run and when I would walk the whole time. Running the final 1.5 miles without stopping.

• Having a smile on my face for almost the entire 27 hours, 2 minutes and 53 seconds.

Some Umstead thoughts

from me are here.

P.S. Prediction: Jenny Nichols is gonna have Umstead begging for mercy!!! :)

Stuff I'm Chasing

Here's some of what's on my mind these days ...

• 65 pushups in 2 minutes. Did 60 on Saturday. Hard, this test. Fun, too.

• 200 Miles in 72 hours. Last year, I notched 183.5 miles at Three Days at the Fair 72-Hour. Way proud of that total, but there is a lot of room for improvement there. I slept a LOT across those four days (9 a.m. Thursday to 9 a.m. Sunday), and also spent a significant chunk of early Sunday morning on my tush waiting for a cold rainstorm to pass by. The sleep breaks make sense. The sitting was wimpy. This year, my hope is more movement and less wimpy.

• 25 pullups in 2 minutes. My best so far is 23. Very, very hard -- this one.

• Another Umstead 100 finish. I have 11 of 'em at Umstead 100. Here's hoping that I find that much-beloved-to-me finish line sometime early morn this April 1.

• A 15-second Crow Pose. 'Nuff said here.

• Keep the streak cooking. Coming up on 5 years. No plans to take a break. Plenty of time to rest in and around each day's session. Plus, superb motivator for those days when weather or a ridiculously full life schedule make you question the sanity of heading out the door.

• Really Long Thursdays. Been coming in late on Thursday mornings for awhile now. Great opportunity to punch out 4-plus-hour runwalks without getting in the way of weekend family jazz. And now that high school hoops season is about gone and ref duties with obligatory late nights have diminished, these can stretch to maybe 5 hours now and again. Way psyched to keep these rolling and package them with ...

• A couple marathon finish lines. Washington's Birthday Marathon this coming Sunday and Shamrock Marathon -- hello 5:00 pace group co-leader!!! -- in mid-March. Super excited for both of those as significant bricks in the wall for Umstead and 3Days72 and ...

• 100 miles of Reddish Knob Road. There. I said it. Don't know that it will happen this summer or even this year, but this one has been calling to me for some time now, and it needs my answer. From the Briery Branch Reservoir outhouse to the Reddish Knob parking lot is 6.7 miles. If I'm doing the math correctly, it seems that one would need to do seven complete up and downs and then one more up for 100.5 miles. All pavement. Not entirely sure about the elevation change, but it is in the neighborhood of 34,000 feet or something stupid. So my answer: yes.

Crooked Road No. 1 in the bag

Wanted to throw these numbers from Page 1 up here for NEXT year!! And in the hopes that this graphic will help me remember how inspired I was by so many of the folks who really put themselves out there day and night.

Pretty easy to stop in these short-lap deals, and never go out again. Cheers to all those who stayed out there the whole way, and also to those who took a break and came back out. I was in the latter group (as expected), and I'm 100-percent sure that I found the guts to leave that warm car and jump back in BECAUSE I heard the footfalls of Redpath, Finkle, Gabell, Kuzma, Surrette, etc. Thank you, friends. It was, once again, an honor to be in your presence.

So many stories. So much exploration. Lots and lots and lots of suffering. And triumph.

It's ON!!!

There are 12 days left in 2011. And I am 12 2-hour runwalks away from knocking out 190 of them for the year.

Two more work days and then JMU shuts down until Jan. 3, so things get a bit more flex for me. Christmas Day is looking kinda squirrely schedule-wise, so that means I either punch one out at 0400 or try for a pair of long ones on one of the other days.

If everything breaks just right, No. 190 ought to pop to life on New Year's Eve just in time for the second running of the Reddish Knob Road Marathon, a ridiculous two-trips-up-and-down a fairly steep mountain road that tallies something like 9,600 total feet elevation change.

Twelve days left. Twelve more runs between here and 190.

This thing is so on! 

Winner

Well, here we are.

Two more sleeps until Crooked Road 24-Hour. This one's new to me, so I don't know anything more than what's on the web, which is a good bit, but def not the same as having seen it with your own two feet.

Optimism is running high. I'm feeling fresh. Have actually even done a bit of speed work for this. Even knocked out a 33:19 5-miler on a crazy hilly course Thanksgiving Day that was really more like a tempo effort except for flying down the downhills. Zero residual soreness in the days after. Very psyched about that. Seems the yoga and all the extra single-leg exercise attention may be paying dividends. Guess the running has something to do with it, too.

So, I've figured and re-figured and calculated and re-calculated to come up with The Plan. I've gone to sleep thinking about it. Dreamed all night about it. Waked up with it as my first thought (actually, second thought: First thought always goes like this: "Another day? Kewl. Thank you, Lord. Now, let's go kick some ***!)

The Plan: Start 3-Days-at-the-Fair slowly and go 3 mins. run 3 mins. walk until dark, then assess. Eat once an hour. Sip sip sip from either the Nathan 10 oz. Sprint bottle or the Nathan pack with two 10 oz. bottles. Tell as many stories as I can remember. Laugh lots, especially when The Hurt settles in.

Goal: Have fun.

If I'm having a great day once the lights go out, I'm going for it. And if I'm not, then it becomes a long walk and the chance to make some new friends.

Either way, I win.

A grand scheme

This just in from my friend Bob. Bob has broken 3:00 in the marathon 13 times. And owns a 20:58 100-mile PR. Bob is a genius. He hangs around with me anyway. Community service, I think.

We're doing Crooked Road 24-Hour together Dec. 3-4. It's a .94-mile mostly gravel loop down near Roanoke. And Bob has a plan.

From Bob ...

"I have a scheme that I think will work. I am using the run/walk model, and here is what I found. Walk 3, Run 2. Running pace is 10:00, walk pace is 20:00. I came up with a two-loop scheme: 3-2-3-2-3 first loop, 13 minutes; 2-3-2-4-2, 13 minutes, second loop. For a .94 mi loop that is right at 14:00 per mile, which will get us 100, plus a little. The 3s are walks, all 2s are runs, and the 4 is a walk, once every other lap. After 26 laps, we have 36 minutes to spare and still make 100 miles. That is for each 26-lap segment, we have an extra 36 minutes, for whatever. If we don't need it after each 26 laps, we are building in a good cushion in any case. 106 laps is a 100 miles. I think this scheme is guaranteed to prevent going too fast early. Walking @ 20:00 pace is leisurely, not the least bit pushing. It's a stroll, almost. Two minutes running is not going to get your heart rate up very high, ya know? Especially on a flat course. The key is inverting the usual ratio, with the walk segment a little longer than the run segment."

I don't really know what to say about this, other than that I thought I should share it. You just should not keep stuff like this to yourself. It begs to be shared.

I will come back here now and then in the coming weeks. Just to ponder this. And to wonder if I have the moxie to actually try it. I am betting no.

Could, however, make for a heckuva story. If the other runners don't beat us severely at 3 a.m. when my Timex 150-Lap Ironman -- the one with the SIXTEEN different interval settings that I can engage at the same time -- beeps for the 413th time.

Oh lookit ...

 Kinda looking around for a little something something to cap this year off when I get email today from my buddy Bob with this.

Let's see: December. Kinda close by. Mostly flat. Loop that's almost a mile.  $40 entry fee before Nov. 1. A new-to-me event.

Hmmm ...

Hmmm ...

May just have to pull the trigger on this one.

Word of the Day

OK, so Hinson Lake 24-Hour is this Saturday.

This is my fourth try there. The previous three have been, well, laughable. Here's how each has gone: Go out fast. Blow to teeny bits. Barely make it to 2 a.m. Stumble back to the vehicle. Drive home with tail tucked firmly between legs.

So how about No. 4? I am gonna go out on a limb here and say that No. 4 is gonna go differently. Call it a hunch, but I think I may have come to a reality at Hinson last year – I really really REALLY do not like puking. At all. Which is what I typically do at Hinson. Because, even after 105 ultra finishes and another 44 at the marathon, I pretty much suck at the event nutrition thing. Been practicing it with fervor all summer and think I may have some semblance of an answer ... NutriFit drink from Food Lion. Think scaled-down Ensure Plus. NutriFit is 250 calories. When I drink half of a bottle every hour, good things seem to happen. Haven't tried it beyond 5.5 hours, so that will be uncharted territory. Truth is that I'll probably change my mind and be after real food by then anyway, so no sweat.

Training has been off-the-hook good this year, yet that seems to have very little bearing on my performance. When I was faster, it mattered a lot. Now? Not so much.

I am in full-on pro taper mode. Most recent 2-hr. runwalk was Friday. Will likely do one Tuesday a.m. just to help with sleep. Legs have now officially moved past that achy start-of-taper feeling and on to oh-wow-strong feeling. Forecast changes daily, but is hovering around 80/50. Not optimal, but also not 91F like last year.

So here's the rough plan: Go slowly after the first lap or two, eat, drink and take what the day gives. Steady as she goes. Leave a bunch for night, especially at Hinson with as dark as it gets on the Back Nine. This is, after all, the site of the famous Fred "Doom" Dummar quote: "The party don't start till the lights go out."

OK, so my goals. Primary Goal: Do the whole 24 hours. Reach Goal ("reach" based on how poorly I've done at 5 of the 6 24-hour formats I've tried so far): 24-hour format PR of 60 laps for 91.20 miles. Dream Goal: 66 laps for 100 miles.

Word of the Day Saturday and Sunday: Joy. I get the chance to run a long, long way with friends and snacks and dirt and peace and somebody else keeping track of the distance.

Count me lucky.

From the "can-this-REALLY-happen?" file drawer ...

Latest ridiculous non-event brainstorm: Reddish Knob Road 100-Miler.

Briery Branch Dam to the top is 6.7 miles. 6.7 x 15 equals 100.5M. That is an estimated 39,000 feet of elevation change. If you start at the top, it would be 7 Reddish summits. If you start at the bottom, 8 Reddish summits.

When Mike Frazier, Jack Broaddus and I just did the Reddish Knob Marathon, the 26.8M jaunt took me 5:10. That was only two down-and-ups. And that was with running the final 2 miles without walk breaks. That was also on a thoroughly overcast day. That was also with me knowing that I was only gonna be out there about 5 hours.

Let's see ... 100 miles of Reddish road. Seven or eight summits. 39K of change. Um ... can anybody say 36 hours or so (maybe?).

Oh. boy.

Good thing I have a 24-hour coming up the end of September.

Really, really good thing.

Love you for always, VA

Last week, we lost one of the finest humans ever.

Virginia G. Gentry, ill the past couple years, finally gets some much-deserved peace and rest.

I could say so much about my remarkable mother, but for now I'll just leave it at this poem that I wrote on the morn of her memorial service. Overheard my dad Sam tell a visitor about this pesky plant the night before.

Gardening and words were among my mom's many passions. She really, truly was something else. :)

Two Blooms

Fully formed, forest green

Four-year-old Peace Lily

Standing guard from its gracious front-porch perch

Four years old. Never bloomed.

Until Tuesday, July 12, 2011.

Two small, creamy blooms.

One for Sam.

One for God.

The July Project

Here it is. July, in all its glory. Right before my very eyes. Begging to me from my Runner's World online training log.

I hear it calling to me in its soft, sing-song voice: "Hit me back ev. ry. day. C'mon. Lemme see what you got."

So far, I have a pair 2-hr. runs posted. Yesterday, July 1, Me and Jack knocked out the standard Tuesday/Friday 7-minute run/3-minute walk at a casual pace. Nice one. Great way to start a day, that. This afternoon, I pushed out a 4/2 on blistering roads in Harrisonburg. Shoulda gone first thing in the morning, before it got to 85F. Lesson learned? Guess we'll see.

As many of you know, i have a run streak going. July 6 will be Day 1,600. OK, you say, so don't you put an entry in your log for each day? Not exactly. Only the runs of 2 hours or longer get logged. Easier to keep track of the long stuff that way, plus this supports my assertion that the long stuff is all that really matters anyway – especially for me.

I don't always go 7/3. Sometimes it's 3/2. 4/1. 5/1. 25/5. 20/5. 12/3, or some such. That's if it's roads. The countdown-timer thing doesn't work for me on trails. At least on most trails. Don't need to force walks on trails. :)

Hello, July. Vaycay at the beach is in there. So is Catherine's 50km. And the mostly regular Tues/Thur/Fri group runs me and my bunch always do. I can usually squeeze another longish one in on one of the weekend days, and often on the other weekend day, too. So the greatest challenge will be those pesky workday Mondays and Wednesdays, that always require 0400ish wake-ups. Just from memory, I think my largest one-month total is 20 days. So far. :)

So ... here I am. Staring at July. Two boxes filled. Twenty-nine still empty. All with such promise. Sights to see. Moments to share.

Miles. to. go.

One For The Ages

Unbelievable. Mind-bendingly, expectation-shatteringly, reality-alteringly unbelievable.

Holy cow. Now I have a PR for a freakin' 72-hour race. And I actually had gas left in the tank at the end. And it didn't really suck hardly ever.

It really, truly was not what I expected. And then it was all that I expected and more. So, so much more.

Final total: 183.5 miles. Fifth overall. Fourth boy. Day-by-day totals of 66 miles, 55 miles and 62 miles.

Had the pleasure of sharing the path with some remarkable runners. Formed some bonds that I expect will last the rest of my life. Laughed until my stomach hurt. Slept so hard that I woke myself up because of the slobber ... twice!

Ate the best McDonald's milkshake in the history of modern civilization. Burned the back of my arms and the insides of my ankles -- the two places where I failed to put sunscreen -- so badly in the first 10 hours that I'm not done peeling yet and it's 10 days later.

Basically sprinted the final two laps of the .85-mile course with the awesome Sabrina Moran, who managed to tally just nine fewer miles than me even though she was in the 48-hour!!!!

Joe Judd. Mike Potter. Fred Murolo. Pete Stringer. Charlotte from Canada, who beat us all. Mike Brooks, a retired firefighter from Maine who notched 150-plus miles walking the entire way.

RDs Rick and Jenn McNulty. Rick's sis Marie. The McNulty children. Jessi Kennedy, who ran some of the 48 but who i think was awake for the entire 72 hours helping out. Scott Brockmeier and Liz Bauer starting the 48, not having the best of days, yet still coming back out to clock some miles and offer amazing support ... especially to ME! Inspiring work, you guys. I am in your debt.

So many stories shared. Such rich laughter. A teeny bit of suffering along the way, but nothing like I expected on the way to collecting so. many. miles.

A dream come true? Yeah. Sure was.

A return trip next year? 10-4.

Here I Go ...

Holy cow. Trained for a YEAR for this one. Three Days at the Fair. 72 hours. Starts in 1.5 hours.

I know what I'm getting into. And I don't.

It's not gonna suck. And, yet, it is.

Fun. Misery. Company. Laughter. New friends. Old friends. Patience. And lack thereof.

Time to think. Time to not. Heat. Cold that's not really cold but feels like it.

Yummy food. Lots and lots of yummy food.

A 72-hour look inside myself ... over and over and over.

THIS is how we roll!!!

Scene: Yesterday. David Frazier's wedding day, so a buncha us took our friend for a trail run up on Kaylor's Knob. Joining in the fun in addition to the Man of the Hour were his blood brother (and later best man at the coolest wedding I've ever been to) Mike Frazier, Carp, Thomas Jenkins, Jack Broaddus, Phil Turk (all the way from Morgantown, West By God!!!), Mike Zook, Vince Bowman, Tom Syre.

In other words, nine uber-studs and then me.

Tornado-like wind. Driving rain. Some gnarly trail. A lotta pristine trail, much of it built by hand by the Shenandoah Valley Bike Coalition forces who include a buncha the dudes there Saturday. A toast at the top of Kaylor's. A whole lotta laughs.

Oh yeah. Nine of the 10 of us wore shirt and tie.

All in all, vintage!!!

Some photos for my Me Wall ...



(From left): Phil Turk, Carp, me.



Me at my finest ...



(Thanks, MikeFraz, for setting this thing up, for shooting all this photos and, most importantly, for being a constant reminder to us about what it's really like to love someone as much as you love your brother. My life is a lot better because I have you guys in it. Same goes for most of these other knuckleheads involved in this particular affair.)

Big boy gear

Here, ladies and gentlemen, is a real, true head lamp. The Petzl Myo 3. Technology. Wow. No more $8 flashlights from Lowe's for me. No sir. Now, I'm big time.

Now, you may actually be able to see me at the same time that you hear me. Well, maybe.

Smart: The New Tough

This time, I was smart.

In each of my other 10 Umstead 100 finishes, I've had to be a lot tougher than this time because I haven't ever been as close to being as smart as I was this time.

Bob Ring and I basically did 4 minutes run/2 minutes walk for the first five of the 12.5-mile loops. Yeah. FIVE of them. That's the first 62.5 miles. Patience is good, especially when you've been there/done that/own the sweet, embroidered-with-your-name 1,000-Mile Club hat (!!!), you aren't too bothered what time you run and your main goal is to finish without suffering like a dawg. So we did the first FIVE laps in 3:00 each. There was a fair amount of messing-around time in there -- clothes change here, yak session there -- but, again, we had more or less turned this Umstead into a Three Days at the Fair learning lab from the get-go, so messing-around time worked. Lap 6 was slower because Ring sprung a slow leak that eventually resulted in a general blow-out to his right ITB. I hung with him through half of Loop 6, then bolted when he said he was gonna re-assess and that he didn't want to be my anchor. (He dropped at the end of this loop).

About two minutes after he cut me loose, this really cool thing happened. Along comes my boy Bill Burns, on his final lap, with a pacer and really down in the dumps after having gone for a sub-18 and having blown to bits. Burns says, "Kevin, this is Bill Gentry. He'll be good for a few laughs. Gentry, I can't talk, so you'll have to cover for both of us." Me? Talk? Hahahahah! Stealing a line from frequent training partner and ref buddy Mike Carpenter, I tell Kevin, "Oh, dude, are you in luck. My guys at home say I'm better than AM talk radio once I get going."

So back to life I come and BAM, before I know it, Burnsie is running faster than I can keep up with. Hah! We ran a lot of what Ring and I call The Back Nine (everything after the No. 2 fully manned and stocked Aid Station), including running almost the entire final 2 miles to his finish!!! Complete awesomeness! 19:15 or something. Of course I'm thinking, "Holy sheep-dip, it's gonna be hard to explain having done this if I blow a gasket but, what the hell, why else am I on Planet Earth if not for times like these, right?"

Well, Lap 7, I kinda did turn crater into a verb a little. Exhibit A: I freakin' fell asleep while stopping to pee ... standing UP, I fell asleep. OK. Time for a nap. After a 30-min. siesta at Aid Station 2 on Lap 7, I'm ready. It's 35F and I'm shivering so badly when I get going again that I have to start running after 200 yards of hiking cuz I have a little freak-out moment when I dump the hot chocolate I'm trying to drink all over myself, but it's OK. It didn't burn (much), and I realized it in time to suck some of it off the front of the blue zip-up fleece. Hey, L.L. Bean makes good stuff. You probably couldn't suck dumped hot chocolate off some cut-rate fleece, ya know? Anyway, a few minutes go by, I get back up to shuffle speed and it's all good again.

Kick out the rest of Lap 7 right at the 24-hour mark, so that means that I have done 87.5 miles in a comfy 24 hours (with a :30 nap and probably 5 other 10- to 15-minute stops, so I'm pretty MAJORLY psyched about Three Days at the Fair now!!!) ... especially if I can push this final Lap 8. Grab the iPod, snag some chicken broth, down a hot chocolate (heckuva lot easier to hit the mouth while sitting in a chair and not shivering), wait for the sun to come up enough that I don't need the hand-held flashlight, hit ... the ... gas.

Now it's ON, baby! Both earbuds in, sound turned up high, time to crank the run-3-songs, walk-1-song routine. (Hey, I runwalk on every run, so I like variety.) Do this for the first 3 miles -- with a quick stop to yak with Pete Lefferts who goes on to record his record-tying 13th Umstead 100 finish (Pete, you're one of my faves!) -- and then I manage to find another gear. Now it's 3 songs run, 1 walk and even a bit of 100-steps-run, 100-steps-walk on the uphills, too. No that-long hills at Umstead, but after 90-couple miles, it's all relative, right?

Outcome: I split Lap 8 in 2:50, easily my fastest of the day. And that includes a 3-minute break right at the end to blab with my friend Brenda from Virginia Beach who had been pacing earlier and has come back out to cheer the weary. Hey, more important to hear about her training and how excited she is about being in the Badwater 135 field than it is to push the final half-mile and still miss cracking 27 hours.

Aftermath: I crushed a huge omelet right away, then Ring came by from the hotel to scoop me up and home we came. Monday: Very little muscle soreness. No more than after a typical Sunday long run. Tuesday: none. at. all.

So, Umstead No. 11 Finish, I was smart. Stuff happened. I fixed it. Fun was had. Stories were told. Friends were seen. Hugs were exchanged. New friends were made. I finished in one piece, and I finished laughing.

Smart. My new tough.

Three More Sleeps

Randomness in the shadow of this weekend's Umstead 100-Miler in Raleigh, N.C. ...

• My Umstead PR is 21:57. I did that in 1998.

• It's 100 miles. Stuff is gonna go sideways. The Fun Factor will take some dips. Deal. With. It.

• I'm going with a 10 oz. FuelBelt Sprint. Totally tempting to punt that with all the aid at Umstead. Not carrying always blows up in my face. Every. single. time.

• This time, I'm bringing my own aid. Frito's corn chips. Chocolate milk. Nutella crackers. Feeling fairly certain that I'll grab here and there from Umstead's awesome fare, too.

• That famous Fred "Doom" Dummar quote is plain down truth: "The party don't start till the lights go out." Leave. some. running. for. later.

• Of my 10 Umstead 100-mile finishes, I have zero in the 22s. Or the 26s, 28s or 29s.

• On the 12.5-mile Umstead loop, it's crazy easy to waste gobs of time at both of the manned aid stations. Really, really easy to add 2 hours. Something to think about.

• In the first three months of 2010, I knocked out 42 runs of 2hrs. or more for 114:10. For 2011, numbers so far are 51 for 132:34. Feeling pretty good about those.

• I have gained 5 pounds in the past month. Happens when you add two meals a day. Strength is way up. Way way up.

• I see that I'm tied for fourth on the all-time Umstead finish list. Pete Lefferts should match Tom Sprouse's all-time mark of 13 this year. Louise Mason should get to 12. Alex Morton and Mike Smith will get to 11. With some good luck, I will join them. Bob Calabria, Fred Davis and Susan Rozanski are each poised to snag 1,000-mile buckles this time. Here's hoping that their respective weekends will be a magical as last year's was for me.

Another Umstead 100. Three more sleeps.

Why EVERY Day?

This morning's little 2-hour runwalk with Jack marked Day 1,477 in my current consecutive-day running streak, just a touch beyond four years. Thought it might be a good time for a few "here's why" comments that have been roiling around in my head of late.

• When I was in college, I put in a LOT of 130-mile weeks without a rest day. Now, it's more like a lot of 50s and 60s. Maybe I never learned how to train properly? Or maybe I did.

• Stubborn is good.

• "When?" and "how long?" are a lot easier to answer than "if?"

• It's a constant reminder that except for those rarest of days, "hard" lives squarely between your ears.

• My hearing's not so good any more, but I hear The Clock of Life ticking loud and true.

• Several days a week, I get somewhere between 20 minutes and as much as 6 hours ... all. to. myself.

• On about half the days of a given year, I get 23 hours, 30 minutes or so of non-running rest.

• I don't want to miss a thing, especially before the sun comes up.

• There's nothing like the flow that comes from getting inside your own head, and my best way to get there is on foot at 5-7 mph.

• When I streak, I own the quote, "There will be a day when I can no longer do this. Today is not that day."

... or no Blue Monkeys!

Sometimes, you have to throw down an ultimatum. Sometimes, "ultimatum" = a great outcome. Take this morning, for instance.

I was 2:37:00 into what I was hoping was gonna be a 4:00:00 runwalk when I'd just dropped Vince and Jack off at their houses. They were heading to Shank's. (This is where, if my Verizon phone took photos worth anything at all, I would insert a photo of the world's most amazing blueberry muffins or chocolate cheese bread ... or make that THE WORLD'S MOST AMAZING BLUEBERRY MUFFINS OR CHOCOLATE CHEESE BREAD!)

Anyway, back to the run. Now I'm solo. Talk about a mega-serious dip in the Fun Factor. Enter the Annoying Voice. You know the one. "Dude. You've done way more than usual. You're the MAN! Stop now. What's the big?" Next, just a notch or two louder: "C'mon. 2:45:00 rules. Really. Who does that on a workday morning? Seriously. Five minutes to the truck. Call it now."

That's when it hit me. Blue Monkeys! Completely awesome pancakes filled with blueberries and bananas from Little Grill Collective, one of my favorite places on Earth.

Ultimatum time: "Look, here's the drill. If I get to 4:00:00, I hit the tall stack of Blue Monkeys. Any less, no go. Period. End of sentence."

Annoying Voice (wildly unhappy now): "Wait. No. Too much trouble driving across town for that. Plus, you have a crap-ton of work you need to get to today, all with deadlines. Now. Dude. Stop. Now!"

Just then, the biggest smile broke across my face. I had him. I really had him. And we both knew it.

Watch check says 3:32:00.

Annoying Voice (barely a whisper now): "3:32:00. You rock. Close it down now."

Me (really, really big face-breaking smile now): "Yo. Gotcha this time."

A bit later ... easing over to the Falcon ... 4:00:00.

Me (gathering my stuff and heading off to the shower): "Hey Voice ... suck it!"

On the Move

Today for lunch, I ate an entire large pepperoni pizza. All by myself. After a 2-hr. runwalk of 8 mins. run/2 mins. walk. That was on top of yesterday's 5-hr, 25-min. runwalk of 3 mins. run/2 mins. walk. I'm expecting to kick out another 2-hr. runwalk tomorrow, which is Tuesday. And Thurs. and Fri. And either Sat or Sun.

If I'm reading the calendar correctly, Umstead 100-Miler is 11 weeks in the future. And the Three Days at the Fair 72-hour is another five weeks from there. So the time to bumpity-bump-bump the training up a bit seems to be now. Combine this with a flurry of activity at work and the loooooooong days thanks to before-work runs and after-work travel/refereeing and we have the perfect environment to simulate a multi-day ultra. Now, if I could only find some people to scream obscenities at me around, say, 8 p.m. at Umstead or any of the nights at Three Days, well, I think I'd feel right at home.

Great start to the year. Counting today, I have 10 long runs for a total of 27:10. Staying consistent with the supplemental stuff too -- the low-key, in-my-living room yoga and Pilates, bodyweight leg exercises, and also the back-and-forth, sometimes-really-fast hoops referee running. It's all training, and it's all good.

I'm all over the map with goals for Umstead, the 72 and Old Dominion 100. Sometimes, I feel as if I want to rip it at all three. Other times, I feel content to just do whatever I can to get to the finish line of each. In the end, I expect the latter will win out. Seems to be my way this last decade or so. And that seems to be working pretty OK.

Streak is at ... lemme see ... 1,428 days. Year 4 is Feb. 17. Still having a LOT of fun with it. Still completely motivated by it. Yet to have a day when I just flat did not feel like going out. Not really sure how to explain it. Very thankful that there is no need to. :)

Eleven weeks to Umstead. 16 weeks to Three Days. A handful more after that until OD 100. Yippee skippy!

Do I have any clue at all what I am doing here? Nope. Am I having the time of my running life these days? Yes. Yes I am.

What a SWEET gift for 2011!!!

Found the following in my inbox today ...

We are happy to announce that NJ Trail Series will be offering a 72 Hour option at 3 Days at the Fair in 2011. This is in addition to the current offering of 48 and 24 hour races. The link to the website is www.njtrailseries.com/fair. The start date for the 72 Hour is Thursday May 12, 2011. The race location is Augusta, NJ at the NJ State Fairgrounds.

The race is held on a flat certified loop of .85 miles (approx 1.4km). There is a full kitchen on the loop to provide hot and cold food 24 hours a day. Bathrooms and showers are also right on the loop to allow the runners their best chance to achieve their maximum result. Plenty of space to set up tents or other items alongside the course as well.

--
Thank you,
Jennifer and Rick McNulty


----------------------

(No WONDER I found the extra mo' to kick out a 2-hour runwalk before work on this Monday when I typically do 25 minutes. Somehow, I must have KNOWN that Rick and Jennifer were gonna give this idea the official nod!)

OK, so now it's official. There will be LOTS of extra fun to be had along the way to the NJ SEVENTY-TWO HOUR. I'm gonna do a 72-hour run. A 72. Me.

Oh. my. word. times. infinity. With a big, fat smile mixed in there.

Math is Sometimes Good

In the spirit of go-for-it-to-finish-the-year-big, I unveil the following ...

The 12-in-17 Plan.

That's 12 in 17, as in 12 more runwalks of at least 2 hours in duration across the remaining 17 days of calendar year 2010. Why, you ask? Simple. Because once I knock down these 12 runwalks of at least 2 hours in duration across the remaining 17 days of calendar year 2010, I will then be able to stand on the tailgate of the Millenium Falcon (aka 10-year-old Ben Gentry's name for my 2004 Nissan pickup) and crow ...

"Oh yeah, 2010. That was the year that I averaged a long run every other day. Yeah. For the whole year. Yeah."

Some quick math. 365 days in 2010. Half of that is ... lemme see here ... 182.5. And with this being Dec. 14 and my total resting at a big, fat 171, and my JMU Christmas break time off from work running (arf! arf!) Thursday, Dec. 23, through the end of the year, lemme see here ... if I can manage to throw down an extra one here ... and here ... and ... oh, lookit ... we come to Dec. 31 and a year-end tally of ... 183.

Sometimes, you just gotta go a little crazier than your normal crazy. Yep. Must. do. this.

Let the hunt begin, baby!

One step at a time

Beautiful, beautiful solo run this morning. Two hours of 9 minutes run/1 minute walk through the darkened streets of da 'Burg before work. 19F with a steady wind that made it a heckuva lot colder than that. Wore tights. Hopefully will have the good sense to continue doing that all winter.

One of those mornings when 1.6753-million thoughts streamed through my brain and nearly all were positive. Or at least wound up as positive after passing through the this-frozen-morning, endorphin-covered filter that sometimes doubles as my brain.

This morning's random list ...

• Why do coaches holler at us when we're reffing? Does it EVER help their causes?
• Another huge training year. Record totals for long-run frequency and overall time on feet. Sweetness!
• Need to e-mail Brad to snag a spot pacing at Shamrock Marathon again.
• Beeeeep. Oh wow. Already at 7 cycles of 9/1? No way!
• Crewing Amy at Hellgate this coming wknd is gonna be awesome!
• 17 weeks till Umstead. 23 till Three Days at the Fair. Not many more after that till OD 100. Lots to do to get ready. Oh what fun it will beeeeee!
• If 2-hour runwalks help define you, is there any hope at all that you can be classified as "normal?"
• OK, how 'bout this: In tonight's varsity girls' game, the first time a really obnoxious fan yells, how 'bout I blow the whistle, stop the game, run up in the stands and scream my head off at the dude? "Actually, idiot, yeah, I do happen to know what a walk looks like. I've done, what, 1,000 games maybe. I've called a few walks. And while we're at this, a kid hasn't had to be completely still to draw a charge for, oh, I dunno, maybe 20 years. He can even -- brace yourself -- be jumping in the air. It's called The Rule of Verticality! Oh, and one more thing: We don't cheat your team! Now, because I suck so badly, here's your $5 back. No, really. Keep it. What? Am I being a jackass?!" (Sorry. referee non-humor. Sometimes, I need to vent.)
• Slow down. Easy does it. Smiles rule.
• Man, that wind is cold. Man, that sky is gorgeous!
• Rabbit!
• How am I gonna finish Umstead, do 250km at Three Days, then come back and finish OD, all within a 9-week stretch? I know. I know. The same way I have been since the first day I laced up those adidas SL-72s 35 years ago.

One step at a time.

Saved by a Trash Bag

OK, so Hinson didn't go anywhere close to as well as I had hoped.

Did slightly more than 100km, 41 laps, before shutting it down at 4:20 a.m. Sunday after an 8 a.m. Saturday start.

In freakish 97F, I popped off 25 laps with my friend Suzanne in 8:00:00 -- on pace to crack my 100-mile PR by one hour!!! -- then the puke-fest ensued and I managed just 16 more laps in the remaining 12.5 hours. Well played, Goob. Well played.

I was eating. I was drinking. I was flying. And then, pretty much all at once, ka-BLAM! Stomach went South. I walked. Tried ginger ale. And kept walking. Tried candied ginger. Walked and sat. Walked and sat. Switched to really cold water. Tried cheese 'za. Even considered eating a bug that I found crawling across my lap about 3 a.m. Sunday, but it got away before I could close the deal.

I let my friend Donnie drag me back outta the chair and back out onto the course for one more lap shortly after the bug thing. I had one more lap to get to 100k. Donnie had one more lap to, as he so eloquently put it, "beat all the bozos who quit or will quit at 100k," so off we went. I had nothing left at all. Check that. I could still dry-heave great. Did that three times on that final 1.5-mile loop.

I went for it. I drew back a nub. Hinson Lake grade = Ep. ic. fail.

Solo trip home bordered on miserable. Cranky and tired from a fitful 3 hours of sleep afterward -- after practically no sleep Friday night -- and then a 6-hour drive with not close to enough stops. Proud that I kept trying and trying to find some sour belly answers before finally packing it in during the run, yet still pretty disappointed in the final outcome.

Short runs Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Lotsa non-running time to sit around and feel like an old coot and an abject failure who maybe shouldn't even try long ultras anymore.

Then came a marvelous thing this morning. That thing? A Trash Bag Run.

Woke up normal time for a Thursday, 4:01 a.m. Coffee maker was perking on auto. Wait? What's that roar? Is that rain hitting the side of the house? OK. Lemme look a sec. Whoa! That's not rain. That's SHEETS of rain! Great. Outstanding. So I'm gonna go do a solo 2-hour runwalk in the dark in THAT? On still-probably-too-tired legs four days after a 100k puke-fest? Really? OK, so now would be a good time to try out that new Mizuno jacket Craig gifted me as part of my TRC gig. Right? Um, well, maybe not the best idea to test-drive it in THIS weather. OK, maybe I'll just mess around and go 30 minutes or something once it gets daylight.

And that's when it hit me. Oh. my. GOSH! I know EXACTLY what I need. Serious time for a first-time-in-a-few-years Trash Bag Run! Lemme check over here in the garage ... and ... bingo! ... still one big, honkin' brown leaf bag left from the fall. Sweetness.

So a 20-minute drive later, I'm shoving off from JMU's Godwin Hall parking lot wearing a trash bag as a rain jacket. Learned the trick at my first Old Dominion 100-Miler when I think everybody in the field was wearing one as the sky dumped buckets on us at 4 a.m. on that steamy June morn.

Wind is cranking. Rain is blowing. Temperature is mid-50s. And then there is me, with the bag covering my torso and my Outdoor Research Gor-Tex hat-covered head poking out of a hole I tore in the bottom of the bag. And I have the biggest smile on my face. And the happiest song in my heart.

Two hours of runwalk later, I'm ready to take on the world again. And all it took was a driving rainstorm and a brown trash bag.

Lucky, lucky me.

Pre-race Thursday

(Subtitle: Even Pro Tapers Suck)

Did I pack those extra shorts? Wonder if I should really drive I-81 and U.S. 220, or if I oughta go U.S. 29 that I know. Well, that I know except for that part around Greensboro. I gotta remember to call my boy Doc when I get around there too. Been way too long since I saw him. Can't believe they're actually moving to Charlottesville. How cool is that? Is it really gonna be 92F Saturday? Holy crap, that's gonna be something. And with 200 and whatever people in the field, there is really gonna be some carnage out there. Please please please do not let yourself be part of that. Patience, patience, PATIENCE. Dude, it's 24 hours. There is no "too slow" for the running. We're talking just-faster-than-a-crawl pace at the start. And gentle walking. Man, I hope Andy can meet with me and David today or next Tuesday to yak about that Choose JMU brochure. And I gotta tell Chris to dig out that Duke Dog coloring thing and send it to Monyette. Maybe I ought to re-do my to-do list first thing. Is it Saturday yet? Or even Friday so I can get going on this trip. On Friday, do I Little Grill first for the awesome Blue Monkeys, or do I just run short, shower quick and then get the heck outta Dodge ... and get to Rockingham by late morning ... and sit around all day freakin' myself completely out. OK. OK. Little Grill. Or maybe I run short, shower quick and then meet Jack and Vince for Shank's muffins like a normal Friday. All that's left to pack is the cooler. Did I put my Saucony Rides in there? No I am NOT unpacking this whole truck. Wonder if I can find some pumpkin beer somewhere? Doesn't that sound delicious for Friday night? Especially if it's been on ice all day. Chocolate milk? Check. Ginger wedges? Yup. S-Caps? Si. Thyroid med? In the bag on the counter by the potato bowl in the kitchen ... with the S-Caps, ginger wedges and Nathan electrolyte tabs. Oh, and the chocolate goldfish. Why does 10 p.m. always feel like what I imagine 1 or 2 a.m. should feel like when I'm doing a timed event? Maybe it's cause I always go. out. too. fast? Slower-than-everybody-else-who-is-serious does not necessarily mean slow enough. Do NOT forget to re-order that Student Information Card. This will be my third time at Hinson. Is the third time really the charm? All good things come in threes, right? And I really hope this book on CD turns out to be a good one. So glad Rinn's letting me borrow her GPS. Is it Saturday yet? Or at least Friday, so I can get this show on the road? OK, so it's Thursday. And I'm typing this from the driver's seat of my pickup. At 4:38 a.m. OK, def time for a short run.

Dear Hinson Lake 24-Hour ...

Hello, my friend.

Next weekend, I'm coming down for another visit. This will be my third trip. The last two have been, um, interesting.

You look and sound pretty lame, but you've shown me your bad side both times so far. Lemme see ... 67 miles in 15 hours the first year ... 72 miles in 19 hours last year ... a pair of not-so-impressive days that started well and ended really, really badly.

Dude, 91F next Saturday?! Seriously? Kewl! 91F. Any chance you could bump that up maybe 10 or so? Last time I went stupid long in that kind of heat was Old Dominion 2009, and it squashed me like a freakin' bug! Thing is, you are a lot different than OD. Your ground is soft the whole way. Shaded, too, for almost the whole 1.52-mile loop. Another diff: your drinks and snacks are much closer together. Don't get me wrong now. You are still hard. But it's a way diff kind of hard than OD or Massanutten or Mohican. You are sneaky hard. Especially after the lights go out.

Well, and this summer has been pretty brutal here in Virginia, so I've been baking on many, many long runs this summer.

Anyway, I just wanted to reach out and let you know that I'm coming back. And this time I'm a LOT more ready than I have been the past two times. Don't wanna bore you with a buncha numbers, but suffice it to say that I've been working my hind end off in my hippy-out kind of way all year.

This time, my mind is in a different place. The 5-minutes-here, 5-minutes-there yoga has helped a lot with that. So did that solo 6-hour 50km three-peat of Brown's Gap Road on that smokin'-hot Sunday not too long ago. And that 4-hour road run with Bob where I fought through a pretty major bonk, yet managed to actually control the pace for the final 5 miles. And, of course, the bazillion 2-hour runs that all add up to steady-as-she-goes ultra fitness. Well, and there's also a nice 25:00:00 at Umstead and a decent 125 miles at that 48-hour in New Jersey. And guess what? No sore-as-you-know-what quads and hammies from a way-too-fast Charleston Distance Run two weeks before coming to see you this year.

So, how's this one gonna play out?

I've been playing this game long enough to stop short of predicting a final outcome, yet I'm feeling safe in saying that, this time, I am up for a good fight.

Wanna know what my plan is this time? OK. I'll give you a hint. I don't have one. Yeah. That's right. No plan. How come, you ask? Well, it's like this: I've tried the meticulous plan the last two times and, as you know, you have pretty much sent me home sniveling. The trouble with me and "a plan" is that when the plan blows up, the inability to properly execute "the plan" becomes a serious catalyst for me to quit. This time, I'm rolling on instinct.

Don't worry. I haven't totally lost my mind. I'm bringing some food, chocolate milk, ginger, S-Caps. And I'm bringing my little Nathan belt with the two 10-oz. bottles. Well, and beer. My cooler's bigger now, so there's room for more than there once was.

Anyway, in the end, as we said growing up, talk ain't nothing but talk. Reality is something different. Ultra translation: Like Malcolm Campbell said once in the middle of a 6-day, "You know, this was so much easier at home with my No. 2 pencil."

This is a 24-hour run. Stuff is going to get sideways. And there's gonna come a time or two when you'll help me peel back a layer or two and see what I have deep down inside. Will I or won't I? It's a worthy question. My hope is that we don't get the final answer until 8 a.m. Sunday when the final horn blows.

Anyway, lookin' forward to raising a glass with you Friday evening. And then seeing what we have for each other the rest of the weekend.

In the meantime, stay dry and dusty.

Gentry

The full-on def of WOOT!

Yup. Looks like I am a member of the inaugural team at The Runner's Corner, my buddy Craig Lowry's Harrisonburg, VA-based running shop.








Three words: Pretty. dang. kewl!!!

When I Run

When I run, I'm a 15-year-old with my whole life ahead of me. When I run, I'm a gazelle. When I run, everything eventually makes sense.

When I run, the world is right. When I run, problems dissolve. When I run, creativity flows. When I run, I am closer to God than any other time.

When I run, I am a great dad. When I run, I am a moving writer. When I run, poetry comes easily. When I run, tension melts.

When I run, old friends run with me. When I run, boundless energy follows. When I run, imagination comes alive. When I run, resolve personifies. When I run, my mood soars.

When I run, nature engulfs me. When I run, my smile is ceaseless. When I run, priorities untangle. When I run, my dreams come true.

When I run, I am fearless. When I run, I am strong. When I run, responsibilities vanish. When I run, I get lost in happiness.

When I run, I become -- if only for a couple hours -- the person I am meant to be.

One Zero Zero

So many races. So many finishes. So many stories.

Walking the last 25 miles and talking the night away with Aaron Goldman on the way to my first finish at Umstead 100 in 1996.

Climbing the gravel road up to Woodstock Tower with Ben Clark at 2 a.m. in June 1998. Mile 92 or so. Ben falls asleep hiking, walks in a ditch, slaps himself awake, then makes fun of me a couple minutes later when I scream like a 6-year-old girl at what I thought was a monster in the bushes. (Gotta love those early-morning hallucations!). We motored on to a 22:51 finish at that Old Dominion 100.

Me and Amy Brown laughing our way through the final 25 miles of this year's Umstead, then Amy and my brotha Bill Potts -- who watched over me the whole way and paced me Miles 50-75 -- being there at the finish line when longtime friend and Umstead RD Blake Norwood gave me my 1,000-Mile Buckle.

Sharing Promise Land 50km with dear buddy Michelle Huston on her way to her first trail ultra finish line ... just five days after she finished the Boston Marathon.

Mike Broderick's really loud "Gentry, I'm not going to let you DO that!" comment that woke me up 30 seconds after I sat in a chair at Mile 80 of Mohican 100-Miler. We went on to finish in 25 hours. Without Mike, I'd probably still be in that chair. It was 2005.

Suzanne Weightman sharing all 90 miles with me at the Virginia 24-Hour Run for Cancer, including hiking throughout the night as my stomach went so far south that all I could do was sip water and moan. Trying to get me to try something at around 2 a.m., Sue hit me with the classic: "Here, try this cracker. I put garlic on it. Garlic goes with everything." I ate the cracker. And several more. Absolute magic.

Doug Young giving me lots of lip for puking at the 100km mark of that Umstead in blistering heat after we split a way-too-fast 9:25 first 50. I puked 36 more times (give or take three or four here and there), walked from 70 to 80 miles, slept 1 hour, walked to 85, slept 30 minutes, then somehow kept going on the way to a 27:30 finish.

That moment, somewhere at the bottom of Bird Knob around 8 p.m. on May 8, 2004, when Molly Gibb stared me dead in the eyes and said, "Stick out your hand. OK. Now. Promise me that you won't run off and leave me, and I promise that I won't run off and leave you. (We shake.) OK, now let's do this thing." Then we hiked the final 45 MILES of Massanutten Mountain Trails 100-Miler together. (Actually, we ran hand-in-hand the final 300 yards across the grass at the very end. "I stayed up all night with you on your birthday, so we should do a little something to celebrate." Yet another Molly classic.)

Time spent out there with legends and characters. Tom Green. Chris Scott. Doug Young. Mickey Jones. Dennis Hamrick. Jeff Newton. Pete York. Neil Hayslett. Frank Probst. Lee Cox. Ron Shaw. Shelly and Andy Wunsch. Tom Sprouse. John Dewalt.

Is there any way to truly thank the gazillions of people who have contributed to my first 100 finishes? Takes someone a lot smarter than me to figure that one out. Maybe by sharing my deep love for this craziness, I am making at least a small repayment. I hope so, anyway.

A running lifetime of epic moments.

100 ultra finishes. One. Zero. Zero.

And here's to a whole bunch more.

A Good Run So Far

Rattlesnake 50km this past weekend marked my 99th ultra finish line. 99 ultras.

Crazy.

If you had told me I'd be at this place back in 1991 when I was training for Mountain Masochist Trail Run 50-Miler, I would have agreed. Same at Mile 33 when I had yet to walk my first step. Same at Mile 42. Most def not the same at the Mile 43 aid station when I was so shot to pieces that I walked the next SIX MILES, cussing myself and RD David Horton and Running Times mag where I'd seen the ad for the race and anything else I could think of to cuss.

After hours of walking, I had convinced myself that I was 1-and-done with this ridiculous ultra experiment, that I'd never set foot on another trail as long as I lived, that people who did this stuff and called it fun were complete morons ... and then here came Dennis Herr. On his mountain bike. Riding the last teeny little technical section of trail on the original MMTR course. Uphill. Without thinking, I broke into a jog. "Yo Dennis." "Hey Billllllll. Wow. Only a mile to go now. You look GREAT! Great JOB!" I did that final mile in 7:09. Have 11 more MMTR finish lines, too. And 10 Umstead 100s, 10 VHTRC Fat-Ass 50kms, 9 Rattlesnakes, etc. etc.

Next after MMTR was Wild Oak 50-Miler. I blistered the 16.5-mile road section, ran most of the next 10-mile trail section and then blew into so many pieces that it was lucky I had enough carcass left to be considered a finisher. I crossed the raging North River with Scott "Maineak" Grierson, the burley dude who almost hiked the Appalachian Trail faster than Horton ran it in 1991. Maineak saved my non-swimming a** twice crossing that river, then climbed Little Bald with me as we passed a dozen runners, then crushed me on the 7-mile mostly downhill to the finish.

The 100-miler finishes loom the largest on the list -- one Old Dominion, one O.D. Memorial, one Mohican, one Massanutten in addition to the 10 Umsteads. The recent 3 Days at the Fair 48-Hour (123.52 miles) and the Massanutten Ring are two more I'm particularly proud of knocking out.

I've done a couple 3-day journey runs, but I don't count those in my total. The Lexington-2-Elkton 3-Day and the Tour de Shenandoah -- the Skyline Drive trek -- were both complete blasts, but just seem a bit too much like training runs to count. Same with when Ring and I did the 77-mile Greenbrier River Trail. Big fun, but not an ultra for my list. I did count when Bur, Q and I did the Double Rivanna that year, so there you have it. Maybe my rule is "more than two" equals in ultra? :) Anyway, one thing is for SURE: if I ever do 4 loops at Wild Oak, i absolutely WILL no-matter-what count that monster. Hah!

Sorta interesting to see names of runs that no longer exist. Del Passatore 100K, the RRCA Eastern Region Track 50-Mile Championship, Fort Valley 50-Miler, August Lunacy 50km. Makes me feel a bit dinosaur-like.

What a fun trip I have had so far. Thousands of miles. So many, many amazing people. What a lucky, lucky dude am I.

Catherine's Big Butt is next Saturday. No. 100 looms. How totally cool is it that such a milestone should happen at a no-entry fee, no-schwag, party-out-for-hours-after-the-finish event such as Catherine's? Perfect.

I have 99 ultra finishes. And 46 marathon finishes. Me. Not a beast like so many of those guys I knew when I started. Just some skinny, blabby guy whose smile is a lot faster than his pace now.

One ultra finish from 100.

Crazy.

My first 48

3 Days @ the Fair = 144 laps for 123.52 miles. Thoroughly, thoroughly pleased with this first foray into multi-day fun.

It's Thursday the week after the run and my brain's still got a general fuzziness about it, but here are some impressions that I need to commit to words in hopes that they don't vanish.

Things to remember: Take a table. Take a lawn chair. HEED watermelon rocks. Fresh fruit (watermelon, blueberries, strawberries) rocks even harder!!! Decide to take a sleep break only when your eyes begin to cross. Opt for covering two more laps before each sleep break. Eat a belly-full immediately before sleeping. Change SOCKS!

More things to remember: Spray bottles with cool water. Rain hat. When running on this much pavement for this long, re-apply sunscreen often. Pitch tent as close to the tangent you will be running as you can. Extra steps matter a LOT when you're going for this long.

Practice VERY slow running. Often. So that it doesn't seem quite so weird when you are forced to do it. Develop several different walking "gears." Practice those often, too.

For 2011, remember to bring RD Rick McNulty a six-pack of Starr Hill Lucy.

So, how did it go? Still not sure I have the words to convey it just yet, but i did learn a few lessons along the way.

10) A .85-mile loop is just about perfect for the multi, especially when there's a full-service kitchen right on the course that stays open the entire race.

9) Walking through the heat of each day = solid strategy.

8) Cheese quesadillas are ridiculously tasty at Hour 42.

7) When you sleep, make sure the shoes are off and the feet are ABOVE the heart.

6) A kind word is always worth the effort.

5) Sitting in a "normal" chair without propping your feet above your heart? Worthless.

4) Tough is contagious. Soak it up at every chance.

3) Laughter is strong medicine. For yourself and those around you.

2) Bacon. rules.

1) Run 3 mins., walk 2 mins. is solid. And will be even moreso as I learn how to run slower.

Random thought that flashed through my mind about 3 a.m. Sunday: There is a universe between "I think that I can" and "I have."

Here It Comes ...

Three gear bags jammed full. A sleeping bag. A tent. A cooler on wheels. A folding chair. A four-pound bag of trail mix. Myoplex lite. Organic chocolate milk.

Am I running a race or going on a two-week jungle safari?

The 3 Days at the Fair is Friday through Sunday at the New Jersey State Fair. Course is a .85-mile loop. Entrant list reveals 31 pre-registered runners are in the 48-hour. Starts 9 a.m. Friday. Ends 9 a.m. Sunday.

Do I have any idea what I'm getting myself into this time? Not really.

Do I have a plan? Yes. Run 3 minutes. Beep. Walk 2 minutes. Beep. Repeat until i can't stand it any longer, then go to something else. Idea is to go SLOOOOOWLY until, oh, dark ... the first night. (Wow. Yeah. You know it's something when you can use "first night" AND "second night" when talking about a race you're doing. Wow.)

Message for this one is simple: Run from the heart. Embrace the unknown.

This one's been calling to me for some time now. Tomorrow is the 6-hour drive up. Friday, we tee it up. And round and round we go.

Here's to shuffle shuffle plod plod fun fun. And hopefully some unbridled joy along the way.

Always Remember

Yep. Did it. Busted out my 10th Umstead 100-Mile finish last weekend. So much help from Potts and Amy Leigh "Flame" Brown. So much good juju from so many others. Equal parts humbling and hard-to-believe-all-aimed-at-me.

Potts crewed me throughout the day and paced me from 50 to 75 miles. He saved my race at the end of Lap 5 by making me eat when I was totally outta gas, and then making me feel as if it was MY decision that we get up and get back out there. Flame jumped in @ Mile 75 @ 11:45 p.m. and dispensed her charm, fantastic compassion, expert ultra knowledge of what it's like to be "out there" all the way until we crossed the final line. At 7 a.m. the next day. Incredible. Not sure I could have done this without those two.

I really thought I'd have something moving to write about as the magnitude of this thing sets in. Truth is I don't. What I do have is a snip from a mid-week this-week e-mail to my dear friend Bobby G ...

When I was 9, my “other” dad, University of Tennessee men’s swim coach and legend Ray Bussard (my dad Sam’s best friend since the ‘50s), said this to me through a serious Jack Black haze: “Bill, listen to me. Never forget this. Dedication is the simple virtue that separates the extraordinary from the ordinary.” Heavy for a 9-year-old but, dude, I took it to heart. Never had a ton o’ talent in the running or the writing, really, but I’ve always recognized that sheer will gets you a long way.

Ray is early 80s and memory loss is kicking his ass right now, but he’s still around. Anyway, when I got to the Mile 11 pie plate on my final lap Sunday morning and me and Flamey were kinda quiet for the lone moment in the final 25 miles she paced me, I looked up at the sky and said, quietly to myself, “I heard you, Coach. And I promise to always remember.”

Umstead No. 10? Really?

Seems as if it was just last year that I got the crazy idea to drive down to Raleigh and run around in circles a buncha times to see if I could finally get to the finish line of a 100-mile race. Turns out that "last year" was really 1996. Yeah. 1996.

Although I had packed in some 30 ultra-distance finishes by then, I had tried and given up three years in a row at the Old Dominion 100-Miler. Good sense would dictate that 100 miles was probably not my distance. Me and good sense have never been pals. In this case, it seems to have worked out OK, I guess.

What do I remember of that first Umstead? I remember my finish time of 24:44:18. I remember hiking the final 25 miles with the legendary Aaron Goldman, who was 67 and had triple-digit ultra finishes but never a 100-miler until we made it around. I remember my friends Andy and Shelly Wunch passing us with one mile to go on Shelly's way to the overall female win.

Other Umstead memories: That time Doug Young and I split 9:25 for the first 50 on a blisteringly hot early-April day, then my stomach imploded and I somehow barfed/slept/walked/suffered my way to a 27:30 finish. That time Ben Clark and his Army Ranger buddy D.J. and I joined together and crushed the final 30 miles en route to a 21:57 finish. The "hurricane year" when I DNF'd at Mile 54 with early-stage hypothermia. Stuff happens when it rains sideways and the temp drops 37 degrees in an hour.

For me, Umstead is about each of the people I've had the pleasure of sharing the path with. Doom. Will Brown. Lee Cox. Mike Whalen. Clifton. Leo Lightner. Tom Green. Missy Heeb. Art Moore. Kevin Sayers. Bob Ring. Dennis Hamrick. Tom Sprouse. Pete Lefferts. The list goes on and on.

I've seen Umstead balloon from a field of 54 to a field that fills online in seven minutes ... when registration opens in September.

Umstead is the massive start with all of its crackling energy, and also the stunning quiet of an 2 a.m. lap when it feels as if you are the only person still awake on the whole planet. Umstead is aid every 2 miles or so, with no worries about going off course ... even when I'm so tired that I run headlong into a tree (see 2007!).

Umstead is RD Blake Norwood, assistant RD Joe Lugiano and a cast of thousands who give of themselves so we can come play and play and play. It's Myra Norwood, Blake's wife and a calming presence with one of the world's best, kindest smiles.

Umstead is a 12.5-mile loop that has a pie plate marking every one of its miles. Umstead is a worthy challenge. Umstead is sneaky hard. Go out too hard and you can pay dearly. Before you start, 100 miles doesn't really seem like 100 miles at Umstead. After three loops, it often still doesn't. After five ... a different story.

Umstead gets in your blood. If you fight it, it can bite you. Hard. If you embrace it and take what it gives you, it can be your friend.

Umstead is an indelible part of my story.

Whole Lotta Ahhhhhh

If it weren't a 5-hour round trip from Grottoes, this would be my Home Away From Home.

Oh wait. Maybe it already IS! :-)

By The Numbas

1,102 days in the run streak as of 2.25.10

687 calories in that totally yummy McSkillet Bfast Burrito i just knocked down!!!

200 laps of the same 400-meter track that i ran in 7:44 one 1995 August day in Maryland

129 finishes marathon or longer in my "career"

90 miles, my 24-hour format PR ... so far :)

45 marathon finishes

25 Shamrock Marathon finishes

20 pull-ups done after this morning's run

16 100-milers I have managed to finish

14 laps of the 2.5-mile road circuit over at EMU covered in a long training run last summer

12 Mountain Masochist Trail Run 50-Miler career finishes (really???)

10 Umstead 100-Miler finishes i will have after i bag this year's in late March :)

8 DNFs at 100-milers across the years (OH to be even half as tough as my friends)

5 guys who will gather tomorrow morning at 5 a.m. to run w/ me

2 hours of run/walk for this morning's "workout"

1 ultra finish it took me to find my true home

One of the Giants

Ladies and Gentlemen, the phenomenal Ed Whitlock ... in the conversation of the fastest of all time. The personification of simplicity.

Happy Meter

Totals For January: 40:28 for all runs. Long runs: 15 for 33:18. Legs feel great. Brain feels better. Happy Meter is pinging on all cylinders, which is no small feat these days with work, the fam, blahblahblah lotsa other things asking for attention.

A great test — and the main non-racing test — of my fitness works like this: When, during a run of 2 hours or more, does the Happy Meter peg a 10? This morning is a perfect example. I felt the rush at 45 minutes. Wow. After only 45 minutes? Perfect!

The Happy Meter is also my best mode for watching frequency of long-run activity. Too many long runs packed too closely together and — bam — the Happy Meter doesn't buzz until, say, 1:20. Sure sign that I need to back off in a big way to just shorties for three to four days straight.

Good to have benchmarks. :)

Day 1,075 ...

Today was Day 1,075 of the current run streak.

Popped 2 hrs. of 7 mins run/3 mins walk today starting at 5 a.m. with Carp, TJ, PJ and Frazier. I'm a lucky dude to have buddies crazy enough to join me for a weekday, before-work 2 hrs. Especially when it's 16F. Beautiful full moon. Minimal breeze. Lotsa laughter. Good, good times.

Why a streak? It's a question I've been fielding a lot since this streak jumping into four digits back in November.

Aren't you worried about your knees? (No.)

What do you do when you're sick? (Suck it up and run/walk the 20-minute minimum. Only happened once so far during this stretch.)

With reffing three to five nights a week during high school hoops season and getting home anywhere from 8:30 p.m. to 11 p.m., how do you get enough sleep? (Sleep is a crutch — at least for me.)

Do you really, truly like running that much to not take a day off? (I love hearing the following echoing in my head: There will be a day when I can no longer do this. Today is not that day. :)

It's actually pretty simple. I just go run. It helps me think. It helps me work. It helps me be a better dad, husband, friend.

Maybe most of all, though, it makes me very, very happy. As long as that keeps happening, why take a day off?

The best ultra runner ever

Check this out.

Pretty darn motivating.

The Pain Cave

Really, really interesting read here. Applications to competition and regular ol' life too.

Four words

Editor's Note: My dear friend Michelle asked me how it was pacing Bill Potts at the Grindstone 100-Miler. Here's what I wrote ...

------------------------

Pacing Potts at Gstone ranks in my Top 3 all-time trail experiences. Right up there with when me, Quatro and Mike Bur did that Double Rivanna. And when me and YOU did that Promise Land in the thunder and lightning and downpours and mud in 7:55 a mere five days after you did that Boston Marathon. Those are def my Top 3.

Potts was simply amazing at Gstone, M. I got him at the Wild Oak parking lot at 66 miles at 10:15 a.m. I'm thinking RUH-ROH, my boy is waaaaay too fast because Wild Oak parking lot at 10:15 a.m. is 24-hour pace. Oh dear. This is gonna get butt-ugly. I'm thinking, oh boy, my job status just ramped skyward from Pacifier Holder to Honest-To-God Pacer.

So off we go. We climb Lookout Mountain and Potts is struggling. We get to the Mile 72 aid station and he rallies a little. Cute, happy girls there. They bring out the best in Potts. About a mile farther along, he is in a bad way. Sleep-deprived. A little overheated. I'm just about to call a 10-minute TV timeout and suggest a catnap when Potts says, "OK. You see that meadow up there? When we get to that meadow, I'm out for 10 minutes under that tree. Set your countdown timer." I do. He plops down, pulls him Nathan pack off for a pillow. Out. 7 mins. later, just as I'm standing to do a bit of yoga, I hear, "Damn. That was GREAT! OK. Let's move out!" And off we go. Climb another mile or so, then rocket down this incredible Dowell's Draft Trail that's probably the most beautiful single-track I've been on. Not technical at all and just a gradual downhill. It's so sweet that Potts had to rein us in with my countdown timer (run 6, walk 2) out of fear that he would run so much that he would blow a gasket. So we blitzed that stretch into the 80-Mile aid station at 1:20 p.m. That means we just did a huge all-up-or-down 14-mile stretch from Mile 66 to Mile 80 in 3:05 INCLUDING THE 10-MINUTE NAP. Holy cow!

Maybe 10-minute stop at Mile 80, then off we go. Next up is the dreaded Chimney Top climb that took us 1:00 on Day 3 of our ridiculous 3-day summer training camp, so we knew what lay in store. This time it was more like 1:20 or so, with me on the point and in full-on storytelling mode. I had THE biggest smile on my face the whole way up that monster. Once to the top, we took a 2-min. timeout to get the heart rates down and cool off a bit. It was low-70s, so not killer hot, but you know Potts and the heat, so we were being extra careful. From there, it was across the ridge and then about 2 miles of cascading downhills into the Mile 88 aid station. Man, was this a day for the ages!

Mile 88 aid station is a freakin' smorgasbord, thanks to folks Potts and his buddy Robert Gillanders have as crew/fans. A cup of mashed potatoes with butter and pepper. YUMM! Only 5 mins. here, then it's off for one more windy, twisty, technical climb, then a push across the last real ridge top and, poof, hellooooo the Road Straight Down 4000-foot-high Elliott's Knob. Then same single-track to the final aid stop at Mile 95. This time? Mac and cheese. HOMEMADE mac n cheese. I told them I was gonna gain 8.6 pounds while running 34. Sweet!

From 95, it's a relatively flat push home. Me, Potts, Bobby G. and his pacer Bill Young, who doubles as Potts' cousin. Onward we roll, getting ever more giddy by the step. Potts is still amazing. G's feet are, in his words, "just a pair of meat hooks now," but onward he presses.

The final 45 mins. we need flashlights. At the 1-Mile-To-Go sign, I look over Potts' right shoulder and see THE most picturesque full moon. The scene
-- Potts with his head held high still running strong, the moon casting its countenance over us -- actually made me cry. How completely awesome is THAT?!

Potts: Dude, you OK?

Me: Oh yeah. I dunno if I've ever been better.

So we waited at the dam that you just had to drop down below, then clamber over, until G and B. Young get there. We do the final half-mile along with a cast of maybe 10 other supporters. Ultimately, we let Potts and G do the finish line hand-in-hand.

Potts worked his *** off this summmer. Even with that, I had no clue that he would run 25:24!!! 12th overall. Male Master's winner.

So how was pacing Potts at Grindstone? Four words.

It. Was. A. Dream.

Swing and a miss

When it got hard, I pushed. When it got really hard, I quit.

Did I set myself up for failure? Armchair quarterback answer: yep. Even with training my butt off for the past six months, the idea of 100 miles in 24 hours isn’t so realistic for me any more. Neither, probably, is my lifetime best of 90 miles. A reachable goal? Probably 80 miles – especially on this 1.52-mile loop format that allows for SO many options to call it a day if you're a little slow or need a little break.

Hinson Lake 24-Hour Ultra Classic is such an interesting challenge. Soft, most shaded, nearly flat surface. Cheerful volunteers. Some 170 starters this year, so a lot of different people to pass and be passed by, at least until the 11-hour mark when it gets dark and the course gets pretty darn empty.

Want to know a way to make Hinson Lake a REAL mental bear? How about this: When you friend Bob asks if – rather than the more traditional method of pacing whereby he would start with you at, say, dark -- you think it’s a cool idea if he pays the paltry $24 entry fee and then run three loops with you, then sits one, and then repeats that the whole 24 hours … you answer, “Dude. That sounds PERFECT!”

What makes this insanely hard is when Bob decides at, oh, about 2:18 a.m. that he has had enough, that he’s got 50 miles in and that he’s calling it a night. And that he’ll get his sleeping bag out and hang until you finish.

(Enter that little voice in your head, the raspy one that is telling you to have mercy on the poor dude, who you know can’t sleep in a sleeping bag and who also cannot find his way back to the hotel without your help …so that you should just be a pal and stop now, too. That same voice, a bit more insistently, points out that you have clearly missed both your 100-mile goal and your 91-mile goal. Same voice questions what, if anything, is the value of walking the final 5 hours for, what, another measly 15 miles?)

As I said earlier … when it got hard, I pushed. When it got really hard, I quit. Fast.

Upsides: No stomach issues, even in heat that has often turned my gut to stone. Succeed Caps are a definite winner! Also was great seeing Suzanne, Doom, Laura, Ray K., meeting Christian, chatting up the vaunted Gary Cantrell and sharing an early-morning walk lap with Hinson RD Tom Gabell, a stud runner and a genuine guy.

Aftermath: It’s Monday and – thanks in part to taking this day off from work! – energy levels are soaring back in the direction of normalcy. So are legs. Did a 25-minute run/walk to keep The Streak alive at Day 942.

Hinson last year, I went out way too fast and blew up at 63 miles in 14.5 hours. This year, out much more slowly, a lot hotter, and a final tally of 70 miles in 19 hours.

Disappointed in myself? Yes. Devastated? No. A bit more wise than before? I’m a slow learner.

Over the next horizon ...

is Hinson Lake 24-Hour Ultra Classic, the one I've been prepping for since Umstead 100 back in April.

Format: 1.52-mile loop around a small lake in the hamlet of Rockingham, N.C. Soft, rock-free surface. Basically flat. Gun fires at 8 a.m. Saturday. Air horn blares at 8 a.m. Sunday. If it works out the way I've been dreaming it will, I will still be out on the course. Running.

Plan: Run 5 minutes. Beep. Walk 5 minutes. Repeat. Do. Not. Go. Out. Too. Fast.

Food: HammerGel at one to two hits per hour until dark. Nutri-Grain bars after that. One 8 oz. chocolate milk every two hours. Also, I'll be rockin' the Succeed Caps every hour on the hour until dark. I have ginger. I have Maalox chewables.

Prep: Crazy amounts of climbing and dropping. Lots and lots of bodyweight leg work. A 1:50 at the wicked 15-Mile Charleston Distance Run two Saturdays ago, way faster than I thought I could go. Or would.

Last year, I wasn't this uber-fit, started too fast and spent the last 2 hours getting my butt kicked by the Barf Monster before throwing in the towel at 15 hours and 63 miles.

Am I ready this Hinson? Yeah. Yeah, I am. Nervous? That too. How's that feel? Pretty darn good.

Ready for something!

August tally: 15 runs of 2 hours or more. Total time of 43:45.

I've been keeping long-run records since 2003. This crushes my heaviest non-100-miler month by 9 hours.

After 3:15 Thur a.m. with Jack Broaddas and then 2:00 Fri a.m. with The Posse, I was gonna phone it in today w/ a streak-saving 25 mins. Instead, found some free time mid-afternoon so ... cashed it in for 2:00 of 7/3. Temp was 93F at the start. Run was muggy as heck. Focused on relaxing during the run phases. Actually felt stronger the final 4.

I've probably eaten 2,000 calories since finishing. So far.

Now, where'd I put that bowl of vanilla ice cream?