N.Y.A.S.R. Not Your Average Shoe Review: Altra Torin

Not Your Average Shoe Review: Altra Torin

Anyone who is serious about running knows that the shoe can be your best friend or worst enemy. Find the right shoe? Buy many pairs because I promise you they will stop making it immediately.

As such, I’ve been seeking a replacement for my beloved Brooks Pureflows. I have 3 pair still, but they are really not built on the cushioning side for running much more than 100K at a time.

So onto these Altras.

In my experience, recommending a shoe is like recommending a wedding dress. All the reviews in the world mean nothing as every runner and every foot is unique from shape to stride mechanics.

Altra is a zero drop specialist. This means you’re running flat footed. Simple as that. Your heel is not elevated.

Running “purists” , whatever that means, have advocated for this in the last few years since the popularity of the book “Born to Run”, which focuses on the Mexican Taramuhara tribe who essentially run long distances this way.

So here’s the Altra Torin and my review that signifies and means nothing if not a couple of minutes of amusement.

Look. They advertise a lot of features but lets keep it real.

Design:

It’s a flat shoe with a decent amount of cushion and wide toe box.

As you can see, the designers spent some time on the sole with that toe pattern. Nothing impresses other runners like the bottom of your shoe. Am I right?

When you’re leading the field of 10 year olds in your local 5k, they will have that image burned into their brains. You can look back and wink, and say: “That’s right, kid. You see this? That’s the sight of my shoe kicking your ass. Life is hard and this is one of the easy lessons.”

High points for this design point.

Fit:

They fit like a shoe. Kinda snug and off-size a bit. That’s good. No point in utilizing a standard used for centuries. Very progressive, Altra. Well-played.

The toe box is wide. Not sure if there’s market for genetic foot mutations, but if you’re one of the foot X-men, these are for you. You literally could have a square foot with all the toes the same length. You’re welcome, X-men.

Feel:

I ran four mile is in these. They advise “working into” runs as zero drop running utilizes your calf muscles more. Since I already run on a near zero drop (4mm) I didn’t expect that to cause any issues. It didn’t during the run.

1 hour AFTER the run? Well…

As a child of the 70’s and 80’s you many remember this:

So yeah, the Altra Torin is basically the thighmaster in shoe-form.

Somehow I have run 50K, 50miles, and 100K races without ever utilizing the muscles tortured by this shoe. Inside of the thighs. As the hours passed I wondered if I had somehow been crushing watermelons between my legs and didn’t remember.

Thanks, Altra! These new muscle will come in handy if I …. Um… need to run in Altra Torins? Yeah. That must be it.

I’m excited about working out a new muscle group that has been somehow unnecessary in my life as an endurance athlete and obstacle course racer.  Awesome.

Conclusion:

I bought these shoes on sale for $55, as I’m pretty sure they’ve released 3 more versions since these. A good value for a shoe? Maybe. But the thighmaster is only $9.95 (plus processing and shipping of course which takes the price to about $400 I think).

It’s really your call.

Keys 100mi Ultra Marathon: May 2014 – Key Largo to Key West

Keys 100mi Ultra Marathon: May 2014 – Key Largo to Key West

It’s been a whirlwind and enough days have passed to be able to write about the race.

Prior to the race I’ve completed  15K, 25K, 50K, and 100K races. The Keys 100 was my first individual 100 mile (160K) race in Florida.

The following is my best recollection of the timing of things… any resemblance to things real or imagined is inevitable!

We started at 6:30am in Key Largo. I had a good nutrition, hydration, and electrolyte plan. I carried fuel for 20 mile sections and two 20oz handheld bottles to cover the 5mile water stops. One bottle was filled with tailwind product that provides calories, salt, electrolytes.

Off I went.

To start the day it was about 78 degrees and overcast with about 70% humidity, with a wind pushing from the north. This was ideal. I hit the road at my planned pace of 10-12 miles per hour. I was excited but calm about my plan and I didn’t let nerves push me too fast. I knew that would be a problem later.

The first 10 miles flew past on schedule. Then the sky cleared suddenly and the sun came out. The humidity increased and the full force of morning sun hit.

We ran on bike paths mostly and some road, crossing from time to time.

The volunteers were helpful and friendly and the aid stations were well-stocked and I stopped at each to fill up my water and have a quick snack. I didn’t want to get behind on either of these things.

Mile 15:

We ran in a residential area parallel to the road, surrounded by trees on either side that held more heat in, but provided no shade from the sun.

Mile 20:

 I was hot for the first time. I filled my bandana with ice and put it on my neck and went on.

If you haven’t been on the route to Key Largo to Key West, it’s hard to describe. Long straight sections of road and shops, then huge sections of nothing, with bridge crossing after bridge crossing.

I made a point to walk the uphill section of the bridges every time. It didn’t cost much time, but I knew it would help later.

Mentally I felt excellent. No nagging demons. Physically, legs still felt fresh and no issues at all.

I had a drop bag and changed my socks and applied more sunscreen.

Mile 25:

 Check-in I was dead on planned time of 5 hours. The heat continued to rise. More bridges and unrelenting heat. It started hitting me then and I decided to work in some short walking breaks every 3 miles or so for a tenth of a mile, hoping to cool down a bit.

I hit a long bridge and was refreshed a bit by a nice breeze. Someone standing on the side of the bridge called my name. It was a friend of one of my N-Motion workout group friends and he greeted me enthusiastically and offered water and a snack. I was fine but it was great to have the encouragement and he called my buddy from the group, Ken for a quick hello. Then I was off again.

Later on, on a long stretch, I heard a horn honking. This wasn’t unusual as crews and people did that a lot during the race. This time I saw out rental and my wife waving. I saw her turn up the road and was thrilled to know I’d see her shortly.

She parked in a little lot and greeted me with a smile. I hopped in the van and into the cool air for a few minutes. It was a real lift and one of my favorite moments of the race and such a great piece of timing. Seeing her was priceless! Shortly after, she slapped me on my ass, and off I went, back into the heat.

Mile 30:

 Now I started really grasping the heat and continued to pack my bandana in ice. I really wasn’t sweating as much as I should be. Now I was over 6 hours into the race and there was a problem: I hadn’t peed.

I forced myself to stop and try in a section of bushes. All that came out was about 1 ounce or dark urine. I knew this was a real issue and decision to hydrate even more.

Mile 35:

While I’m not sure about exactly where on the course this section was, anyone who has run the race knows it. I read about it prior, in fact. A long section measuring near 4 miles. It doesn’t sound long in theory, but it seems like an eternity. The path also runs parallel to the road on the bay side. Each side of the path is lined in large mangrove trees: big enough to stifle any air but not tall enough to create any shade at all. It was like running in a sauna in the sunshine.

I tried again to stop and pee. I was about 8 hours in I think. Nothing this time. Trouble. I had been hydrating more and keeping electrolytes up and desperately needed to see what color my pee was to see if it was helping, but no luck.

I knew I was overheated, even though my legs felt great to run. Even in this particular version of heat-hell, my mental game was still excellent. I expected the nagging negative voices, but there were none so that was encouraging. I stopped at a water chest and rested on a bench in the sun (no shade) with another runner for 5 minutes. He had run the race before but also hadn’t peed and was also worried.

Off we went.

Mile 40:

Huge straight sections with no breeze. Lines of power poles. I played the run walk game using the poles at my guideposts. Run 5, walk 1. I was trying to slow down and cool myself down. The ice bandana felt great but melted in less than 5 minutes in the heat.

I changed my socks again at the drop station. My feet were holding up beautifully. I had taped a few places prone to blisters and the tape was holding up perfectly. I felt nauseous for the first time, but choked down a half of PB&J sandwich and a stinger wafer. It was difficult.

Off I went again after a 10 minutes rest in the shade at the aid station.

It was hard to leave, but I knew that sitting wasn’t getting me anywhere. Maybe I moved on too fast here. I don’t really know.

Around mile 42 the nausea hit again. I threw up the food I ate but almost no fluid. That was really unexpected on a couple of fronts. I’ve never been sick before on a run and considering the amount of fluid I had in me, seeing nothing was troubling. It wasn’t sloshing around in my stomach and it wasn’t in my bladder either, which meant only one thing: my kidneys weren’t processing it.

Mile 45:

I rested here again, but there was no real shade and an unmanned cooler I think. Now I was over 10 hours in with no urination. It all started to hit me then. I wasn’t tired. My legs felt good- just a bit stiff, but I knew with real certainty then that internally I was in a bad state. I didn’t think it was dehydration. It wasn’t over hydration either. It was the heat and my insides had shut down.

I had a very rational (maybe aloud) conversation with myself then: one I wasn’t prepared for. It was essentially this:

Ok. You need to figure out what’s going on for sure. If you don’t pee, you can’t know. You know for sure that you NEED to pee. The fluid isn’t going anywhere and you can’t tell what’s happening. You’ll stop at mile 50. Reesa will be there. You’ll sit in the car and cool down. You will NOT continue the race until you pee. The next 10 miles have practically no support and include the 7 mile bridge. No pee. No go.

It was a very rational talk. I’m thankful I wasn’t heroic, but scientific about it. That was hard for me as I pride myself on being able to grind through difficult situations. It’s my best strength in running. It makes me a good hill runner, trail runner, obstacle racer.

Near Mile 50:

Still no pee. A long stretch in the sun without shade in town approaching Marathon: the half-way point.

As I neared the check-in and my wife, I was suddenly overcome by emotion. Such a thing has never happened to me before in a run or race. My eyes welled. The enormity of that checkpoint hit me all at once, knowing it would end one of two ways, and I was afraid in my heart that it wouldn’t be the one I wanted. I knew that it had to turn around then. All the miles that offered hope of peeing had passed. Just this one place now.

I was truly unprepared for this rush of emotion. I was rattled, shaken, in unfamiliar territory. As I approached the chip scanner I saw my wife and was greeted by her and a volunteer asking what I needed. I couldn’t really respond. I had my head down, struggling to keep my shit together badly. I choked out a request for water and told my wife I needed to sit down. She was concerned but cool-headed and amazing. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without her there.

I sat down in the van and blasted the cool air, sipped some water, and told her what was going on as best as I could understand it. She quickly figured out it wasn’t hydration: that I was badly overheated.

We decided to wait at least an hour to start and see if I could pee. Nothing.

Another half hour and I managed to pee another ounce at most.

I sat again. We talked to the staff, solicited advice. They agreed that the hospital was the only real option. My wife was my rock and coordinated everything in this time. I wasn’t really able to process everything well enough.

Finally, I made the decision to tap out. I took of my ankle timer chip. My race in the Keys was over at mile 51.

We went to the hospital nearby. I had a fever and hadn’t cooled down so they gave me two bags of IV fluids. I took them and lay there shaking as my core began to cool down.

After a couple of hours and tests, they discharged me. No damage had been done to my kidneys at least and my temp was still higher than normal, but down enough to leave safely.

My wife amazingly got us to Key West and checked into our hotel. Because of a traumatic brain injury, she had driven very little in the last year, but somehow she managed to get from Key Largo to Marathon, meet me, be there for me half-way, manage my medical situation, handle logistics, then drive us to Key West in the dark. It was an incredible mix of courage and strength and I can’t thank her enough for that and being there for me and supporting me.

My fever finally broke about 10 hours after I left the race, near morning. It was Sunday morning and my thoughts drifted to the ghost version of me crossing the finish line that I didn’t get to see in real life.

We made the right decisions and that was without a doubt, the best outcome possible. Had I continued I would have put my life in jeopardy as well as risking others. I imagine my wife getting a call at 2am advising her of something much worse.

I am truly sad that I didn’t get the chance to complete my first 100mile race that day, but I don’t regret any decision at mile 50. I’m happy I’m healthy now and will have a chance to do it again, better prepared.

Upon reflection, medically what happened was this: my core was overheated. It sent a signal to my hypothalamus to stop processing fluids because I needed to sweat them out to cool me down. The heat and humidity simple didn’t allow the sweat to do this and evaporate, so my temp continued to climb ad my kidneys stopped processing liquid and there was nothing in my bladder to pee.

So what mistakes did I make? I think I know the answers:

1-     I didn’t train in the heat and humidity to find out what apparel would be best to promote sweating and evaporation.

2-     This is the big one: I simply got behind on heat management. By the time I was hot, it was too late. The ice bandanas needed to start immediately, not after 20 miles. Once I got too far, there was simply nothing I could possibly do to reverse the situation. It took 10 hours of rest before my temp came back to normal.

I’m glad I did the race. Afterward, Reesa and I enjoyed Key West after taking it easy Sunday, we enjoyed the food, accommodations and ocean and it was wonderful. We ate some amazing meals and reveled in being near the water and relaxing.

Without her, I would have been lost, and that too was a lesson of such a grueling event and I’m just thankful she was there and so strong.

I plan to return to the Keys and complete this race. While my physical conditioning was absolutely enough for 100 miles, I will be better prepared to manage the heat and humidity, and I will succeed. I’m sure about that. I’m a grinder and I don’t give up.

Special thanks to all the volunteers and race personnel, my friends and family for the support and love, and my pals at N-Motion Fitness and Guthier Family Fitness for all of the same, and to my #1, Reesa for everything she did and is.

Countdown to the Keys 100mi Race

On May 17th I will race.

It's the Keys 100mi run from Key Largo to Key West. 100 miles along the scenic Florida coast.
This will be my longest run and first 100 miles race. So far, as an Ultrarunner,  I've logged a 50K and 106K race. 160K is a different animal I am informed by everything I've read on the subject.
Over and over I see the expression: "The race doesn't really begin until mile 75."
I wonder if it's better to start there then?

As the race approaches there are a number of natural concerns:
1- Have I trained properly?
2- Do I have ANY idea what I'm in for?
3- Will I EVER find the right shoe?

1- I hope so. I've logged more miles this winter than ever before. Nothing over the 30mile mark but many around that distance. Above that I think it's more a matter of will. My fitness level is very good right now. Of course, I've had ZERO warm weather training so that's the big factor and apparently the primary reason for people not finishing this particular race. I have a hydration and fuel plan so that's all I can do for now.

2- Probably not. I know only how I felt after running 64 miles last September. I was damn tired. At the time I concluded that if I had to run another 36 more, I couldn't, but I don't know if that's really true, or just the standard finish line relief. When you run for 13hrs straight and you're done, you're not in a rational place to make such a conclusion. The prospect of 26-30hrs of running (which is most likely in the 100) is absurd of course, but only relatively.
Three years ago I couldn't run non-stop for 5 minutes. This is not an exaggeration. I couldn't. So if you had told me then I'd run a 13 hrs, I'd also have told you that you were insane.

3- Shoes. Yes. I ran the 106K wearing basically a zero-cushion shoe. Foolish for sure, but it was the most comfortable shoe I've ever run in. My feet were badly bruised after the race and understood how important cushioning is on long runs. Unfortunately, I have yet to find a shoe with cushioning that doesn't cause other issues. I'm not really concerned about blisters. I've had them and run on them. I'm sure I will have them in the Keys race. I just need to find the shoe that works. I hope I have time to succeed at this quest, or I'll be back on the Brooks Pureflows and paying for it.

In the next few weeks I'll continue to plan: what to put in drop-bags and when... all the details that the devil is hiding in, but shoes are the one thing I'd like to settle. Fortunately my wife is an excellent strategic planner and thinker and I know she'll help me with the devil's details.

Running from sun-up to sun-down to sun-up again is a daunting idea, but thrilling at the same time.
This is the test of my hard work both physically and mentally and I'm looking forward to see what I'm made of, and who I am at 3am on a dark road, physically and mentally drained.
There is no other way to find out.
I learned a lot about myself in the 106K race, things that I've written a bit about, but which cannot be fully explained.
To call distance running therapy is probably right. It is, but not in the way you might think. It's a blind topic at best. You never know what is going to happen in your mind. It's a mystery until you are there.

You can count on a few things as absolutes though:
1- you will feel amazing
2- you will feel terrible
3- you will feel elation and joy
4- you will feel despair and angst
These four things will come in the order and duration that they decide.

If I've learned anything important so far, it's this: don't get attached to any of them. They come and go unpredictably. Getting attached to feeling good is a sure path to disappointment. Getting lost in suffering is also foolish. It too will pass.
What I've learned is that all of these things are just ONE thing: being present.
We don't see the world as it truly is; we see it as WE are.
It's some zen shit for sure. Everything is everything else.
The gift of Ultrarunning is that you get to answer the questions:
Who ARE you?
Who is this person when you are alone, stripped down, exposed?
Will you break?
Will you rise?
Will you endure?
What part of you is unbeatable?
What part of you can harmonize and reconcile the physical, mental, and spiritual YOU in one place at one time, or a LONG time?
What are you made of beyond a collection of atoms?

There's your gift. You'll get the answers. They may be surprising.

Oh, and this is the buckle you get at the end of the 100mile race. HA!

 

Texas Spartan Beast - 2013

The Texas Beast – Dec 2013 – Glen Rose, TX

To the beast and the trifecta for the year. I managed to make this a VERY inexpensive trip. Air miles for flight, $27/day for car, free hotel on my Hilton points. A good start.

Did I mention COMPACT car?

As always, tons of Spartans at my hotel. I went through my normal routine the night before my 8am elite start time. Drink a ton. East something that won’t strike back in the morning.

My fav is Wendy’s Baja Chili Salad. Plenty of greens and some chili. Perfect.

The Day:

The weather in Texas had been utterly crazy in the days leading up. Snow and ice storms, freezing temps. Norm, the course designer, announced there would be no swim across the lake do to safety concerns. I like the swim and already knew what this meant: he would make up for that in many evil ways.

I brought and decided to wear my wetsuit. I’ve never done any activity in it so that was a risk, but the 30mph winds and cold dictated this move and I was glad that I chose to.

Off we went. 

Within the first mile, they threw us into the chest-high water/mud pits. This wakes up up fast but the only cold thing on me were my feet. Thank you wetsuit.

And off into the race.

I won’t go through all of the obstacles because that’s tedious; just a few highlights:

1-      The course was about 14.5 miles long

2-      It was muddy, snowy, icy.

3-      They utilized the hills to the max this year

4-      This was NOT last year’s course. Not even close.

5-      They got us wet early and often.

6-      There were TWO rock bucket carries. The last one at mile 12. A shocking surprise that almost broke me. My hands were rough and frozen and I really struggled… but I made it through.

7-      I missed my spear throw (normally a given)… 25mph wind in an open field made the spear look like a matchstick.

8-      The swim was removed, so instead we had to walk just below waist high AROUND the lake in the frozen water and mud. That was utterly brutal. Feet like cold stones in the end.

9-      They did an AWESOME memorization challenge. Early in the race, you had to memorize and alpha-numerical code based on your bib number. Mine was Delta6012313. You see I haven’t forgot. Anyway, after the lake walk and a short run, they had the station set up for you to check in with your code (probably 7-8 miles after getting it). I remembered mine. Many people didn’t and had to do burpees before going on.

 Barb Wire: note: crushed cacti in mud STILL hurt!!!

 The final grind to the finish.

 No ups at the end of THAT race.... ooof.

 The map and my GPS watch route. Dead on.

 My thoughts about the race: it was tough, cold, long. Took me over an hour longer than the previous year because of difficulty. I’m never satisfied with my performance, of course, but my effort level was good and consistent. I cramped a couple of times, but quickly moved through them. I really used my grinder mind to keep moving through the mud… often I could even see my shoes.

Any then the finish and my trifecta!

Shortly after I got the wetsuit off and jumped in the car with the heater on full blast. It took me almost a half hour to quiet the shakes and shudders.

Glory-be, had first class on the way home and I enjoyed every second of it.

And so the end of another race year that I remained healthy, injury-free, and hit many goals and new firsts! Arrrooo!

The Gifts

The Gifts

There are moments you are currently unaware of. They haven’t happened yet. Your job is to make them happen.

It sounds simple, because it is.

How well do we really know ourselves? Often we become a product of our patterns, consciously and unconsciously. The automatic self takes over. This is the self that tells you when to go, when to stop. This is the known and comfortable self.

Without getting too hippy-dippy about the whole thing, here’s what I found out. Here is the secret:

Only when you push yourself to that place beyond comfort will you find those secrets.

There is not one. There are many. They are gifts.

Here’s how I found some of mine:

1-    My first Spartan Race. Climbing a ski hill. Heart pounding. Exhausted. Really unsure if I could finish that race.  I kept moving though. Not fast, but I did.

When done the race I thought I would never do another one. It was too tough. After a week or so, my mind changed as I reflected on it. Who was I in that moment of near quitting? What had I learned?

My lesson there was very simple: keep moving regardless of how you feel. Feelings are transitory. Momentum is not. This was my gift.

The next Spartan Race confirmed this as that hill confrontation occurred but that time I knew the secret.

2-    25K race in the mountains. At mile 11 I started cramping. There was no physiological reason. The cramps coincided with the fact that I had hit my previous longest distance running. It was my mind directing my body to throw up warning signs to stop… that anything past there was madness. I kept going. What had I learned? My gift was this: There are comfort factors mentally that will attempt to prevent me from learning new things. Expect them. Keep moving.

3-    50K race in the mountains. My first ultramarathon. This race had a 20mile exit option. As I ran with a group of people, they decided that they had enough and would be leaving the course at 20 miles. My mind started fighting me then, assuring me that 20 was still a record for me, that today wasn’t the day for the full race. It told me I had done well, but this was too much. Building on the last two gifts, I was expecting this. I listened to the voices, understood them, sympathized with them even… then kept going… into the most demanding part of the race. Alone. When I hit mile 29/32 the gift came that belonged to this race: I realized in complete clarity that I would finish this race, but more importantly: I had not yet realized my capabilities. POW. That was huge. This race that I had built up as the “real” test was just one test, and that there were more. It was a great feeling. That was my gift. The other was knowing how it felt to be visited by the monster that wants you to quit, and the angel that gives you a lift. They both come in races, not always in an equal serving, but knowing they will come, acknowledging both but giving no power to them was the key.

4-    Spartan Race, Virginia. Having done many of these races, I was ready. It was brutal. Hardest Spartan race I’ve done to date. 8 miles of hills and obstacles. I did not question if I would finish. My other gifts kept giving to me and pushed me through. I saw and heard a ton of negativity though, as people struggled with their minds, bodies, and mostly their expectations of what the race would be versus what it was. My gift came: joy. I felt it on that mountain. I smiled and laughed in the hardest parts. I had fun when it was tough and shocked people who were in such a different mind set. I felt bad for them that they were not open to receiving their gifts, and hoped they still might in the race.

5-    100K Race, PA Grand Canyon. This was the mother of all of them all so far. I went in not really worrying about finishing the race. I knew I would. I had hopes for a certain pace and time, but was not really attached to either. My goal was to be present, open, and finish. I was all of those things. My gift in this race was simple: selflessness. 13 hours of running takes a toll mentally and physically. It’s a long day. The sun comes up and goes down and you are still running. You drift away for hours. You become something else. You move to a mental plane far from everything you know. You dream, you disappear, you float, you stumble, you grind, and you become selfless. It’s hypnotic and transcendent.  I suspect it’s akin to deep prayer or meditation. The difference is that while you do this mentally, your body is also doing a difficult job. You cannot disconnect from it. It requires water and fuel. You’re not separating from your body; you’re being parallel with it instead. You exist in both places as the same time evenly, selflessly. You are your mind and your body and that other thing that straddles the two but is separate: the selfless part.

So what is next? What is the next gift? What kind of race will give it to me? I wonder about these things. Must I up the ante? Is there a gift in every race? How do I find it, or do I just allow it to happen. I want to find out more. These gifts have given me strength and understanding that is hard to explain. For those stuck in the routine of comfortable patterns, I implore you to stretch out and find these places. It doesn’t have to be physical. That’s just where I found the right about of silence to discover them. They exist everywhere. Just be open to them and seek them out. They just don’t happen on their own.