I headed into Sunday’s Lake Tahoe Marathon, the third and final leg of the Tahoe Triple, dreading the final challenge of the weekend. I don’t fear running marathons, but I don’t enjoy pain. And I knew it would be close to four hours of pain.

I had heard that the course had a reputation of tough hills and when I drove the course on Saturday, I was able to visually confirm that reputation. There were two good climbs after mile 15. One was about two miles long and gained a good 700 feet, and the other was less than a mile and probably gained 300-400 feet. Those hills are tough at sea level. Tackling those up near 7,000 feet is something else.

So, I had some apprehension heading into the race, but at this point, I just run through pain for 26 miles on a weekly basis. I expected that to be the case today. Before the race started, my hamstrings felt pretty tight. I felt fairly good aside from that, but I’m more used to fighting through quad pain so I was a bit concerned.

Mentally, I planned on taking the first four miles as a warmup and then pushing a little harder when I felt loose. My goal for the day was to break 3:45. I also had outside hopes of capturing third place in the Tahoe Triple overall for the weekend. I entered the day in fourth place, trailing third place by about 10 minutes. I felt confident that I could run well, because if nothing else, running marathons through pain and fatigue is what I do on a weekly basis nowadays. I don’t have speed, but I can edure.

So, we took off and I didn’t feel great, but I moved fairly well. At a solid effort, I was turning 7:50 miles, which is a decent pace for 6,300 feet. I settled into a groove and felt decent by about four miles in. I caught the third-place runner by about mile 6 and we chatted for a bit. I asked him what he typically runs and he’s a 3:10 runner with a 3:04 PR, so I knew I was competing with the right caliber of runners.

By mile 7, he had to let me go. He told me he was shooting for a sub-4 because he was feeling pretty beat up. He ran the Triple four years ago, so he knows how he handles the breakdowns. I figured that if I ran my race and stayed strong, I’d have a pretty good chance at third place.

The first half of the race wasn’t tremendously challenging, other than the altitude. Some rollers up and down, but we stayed fairly level in the 6,300-foot range. I hit halfway right around 1:45, which I was pretty content with. The first hill, which they call the “hill to hell” came a little after 15. I knew it was a beast, but I just told myself that I only had five miles left in the triple. It’s all downhill and flat from 20, so I just wanted to get myself to that point.

The hill was a killer and the sun started peaking out. I ran the whole thing, because once I take walk breaks, I’ll shut down mentally and convince myself that more walk breaks are okay. A little before I got to that hill, I passed the runner who was second overall in the Triple. He had 25 minutes on me, but it was a pretty good confidence boost — I knew I was running well.

Between the first and second big hill in the second half, there’s a big downhill and I took it pretty hard. I wanted to get my turnover going and keep moving as fast as I could towards the finish line. As I told several runners over the weekend, the faster you run, the sooner you’re done! My left hamstring started to get pretty tight and my right knee started to hurt. I get tendinitis flare-ups in that knee occasionally, and it didn’t surprise me to feel it after 70 miles of racing on hills in about 50 hours.

The second hill was very steep, but I told myself that once I peaked, I was done for the weekend. My legs would turn themselves for the last 10K! I got to the top, and we were right where we started the first day. I had run around the entire lake! I had a pretty good view at that point and it was kind of mind-boggling that I had run all the way around. I try to think of running a marathon as 26 one-mile laps, and I know how my body reacts as the race progresses. I try not to think about how far I’m actually running.

Anyways, the last 10K starts with a pretty steep downhill and I did all I could to move my legs as fast as possible without losing my balance. I was moving at about a 6:50 pace — the faster I run, the sooner I’m done!

I was looking like I was in pretty good shape for a sub-3:40, which would have been an amazing day in my book. Times are relative to the course, and for my ability, a sub-3:40, especially on day three, would have been pretty nice. But I hit the wall hard at mile 23. From about 21 on, I was really wanting the race to be done, and all of a sudden, I couldn’t move my legs. I had been turning at about an 8:00 pace on fairly level ground and that dropped to about 10:00/mile.

I tried to take shorter strides and increase my turnover, but that barely worked. I also started to feel pretty nauseous, but there was nothing I could really do. I just needed to get the race over with. I got near the finish area and saw the finish line about 3/10 of mile ahead and did my best to kick. My 3:40 was long gone, but I had a chance at staying below 3:44. I crossed the line in 3:43:50 and was finally done! The guy who started the day in third place in the triple standings went 3:58, so I took third overall out of about 100 or so people who entered.

For the first time in a long time, I was actually very happy with my effort and output for a run, really more for the series of runs over the weekend. This wasn’t a course I could be blazing fast on, but I felt like I ran hard all three days and really pushed through and battled. By the end of this race, I was completely beat up. It’s been an exhausting month from a racing perspective and I completely ran myself into the ground. I told people before the race that I’d give it my best and I know I did that.

It’s incredibly satisfying to leave it all out there and I know that I did that. Now, I just need to find my legs within the next seven days!

46 down (plus a couple of ultras), only 15 to go! Next up, St. Charles, Mo.!

I headed into Saturday’s Cal-Neva Marathon expecting the easiest run of the three marathons I’m running in three days for the Tahoe Triple. The race might be the least difficult of the three, but it was far from easy.

I iced my legs in Lake Tahoe twice on Friday, stretched, took some ibuprofen, carb-loaded with an all-you-can-eat pancake feast at Denny’s and got a fair amount of sleep, so I didn’t feel too bad when I woke up. When I got to the start line, I had a “here we go again” mentality. Running marathons is what I do. Time to do it again.

During the pre-race instructions, we were told that it would be downhill for the first seven miles and then flat for the next 12. We’d hit a hill near the finish. Fair enough, I can handle that, not that I have much of a choice.

It was chilly at the start and with an elevation of 6,830 feet, it was pretty oxygen-free, too. Sure enough, we were running downhill right away, but I didn’t have any zip in my step. I wasn’t really sore (well, maybe a touch in my hamstrings), but my speed just isn’t there right now. My stride is strong, but my turnover is weak. It’s part of being beat down from fatigue, plus I’ve taken it easy during training in September because my schedule for the month is challenging for me (one double, two ultras, one triple, five marathons starting at 6,400 feet or above, seven races total) and I just need to get through.

I couldn’t run very fast, but I had the feeling I’d just pound away consistently and finish another race without much issue. During the early downhill stretches, there were some uphill portions that were a little tough. Not ridiculous, but I saw a man who was in fifth place at the time walking up them and we were only five miles in.

There also some uphill portions between miles 7 and 19, including a pretty good climb somewhere around 15 or so. I was running in fourth place from about mile 11 on and didn’t see anybody ahead of me until about 15, when I spotted the third-place runner about a quarter-mile up. He was taking walk breaks periodically and I was gaining on him.

I finally got on his heels by about 17, but I couldn’t pass him. He was faster than me when we were running and when I’d catch him on his walk breaks, he’d start running again. I just kept chipping away and he couldn’t fight me off and we started leapfrogging each other at about mile 19. At that point, I really wanted third place and I hoped I could keep it close because I knew I could outkick him. I had no idea how fast he could kick, but I knew I’d get him if it was close.

He was a really nice guy named Ryan, from Minnesota, we chatted a bit since we were so close to each other. He passed me and I started to fade at around 22 and got about 1/4 mile ahead of me again. There was a pretty tough climb at about 23 and I started to close on him as he took walk breaks. But when we crested, there was a long downhill section and I had nothing. Normally, that’s where I’m strong. But I couldn’t go to well and it was too early to kick.

I thought I had no chance at him, but I started to go at 24.75 anyways. No sense leaving anything out there. So I kicked and started to move pretty well. That’s tough to do when you’re well above 6,000 feet! I was gaining on him and he was taking walk breaks. And I gained on him and gained on him some more.

He knew I was coming and started moving a little bit, too. I closed the gap and really thought I was going to pass him. I wasn’t exactly sure where the finish was going to be, but I was right on him. I had closed to maybe 20 yards or so and I was closing fast. And there it was. The white chalk line. We were done and I was at the finish until about one second away.

If the race was 50 yards longer, I would have had it. Oh well, I guess I had to settle for just a marathon! But it was a lot of fun racing hard at the end like that. I was pretty out of breath at the end, but I was telling him and his crew how much fun I had in that race. I have no doubts that we were each about two minutes faster than we would have been if not for the other. We really pushed each other and it sure is fun to race to the finish.

I went 3:36:12, obviously good for fourth overall. I talked to the winner, who went 2:57, and he’s a 2:30 marathoner. So that made me feel good about my efforts. I knew the Tahoe Triple would be tough because it’s three marathons in three days. But either of these two races would make for a tough weekend. I rode Sunday’s course after the race and it looks even tougher than Friday’s run. This Tahoe Triple is three brutal races in three days.

After the first two legs, I’m fourth in the overall Triple standings and that’s where I suspect I’ll end up. But there are no guarantees of anything for anybody out there. Sunday’s race will be tough, so I’ll go out there and do my best. That’s all I can do!

So, for the weekend, two down, one to go. And for the year, 45 down (and a couple of ultras), only 16 to go!

I’ve been dreading the Tahoe Triple for a little while. September has been a long month from the running and racing perspective, and three marathons in three days at elevation on hills hasn’t sounded too appealing. On paper, it looks frightening to me. But none of that compares to actually getting out there and doing it. I ran the first leg of the Tahoe Triple Friday, the Emerald Bay Marathon, and it was even tougher than I thought it would be.

I tried not to think about what I was doing as we got ready to start. I’ve never run three marathons in three days. I’m not very good at elevation — I’m a sea-level guy. And I’m totally beat up right now. I checked the elevation on my Garmin, 6,850 feet or so, and mindlessly got ready to run. That’s what I do — I run marathons — so I’d just go out and run 26.2 miles like I always do.

Vaguely knowing what I did about the course, I was hoping to run a 3:40 or better, but I didn’t worry about it. I knew I’d go out, run myself into the ground and get to the finish line as quickly as I could. If that meant 3:40, then that’s what it meant. If it took 4:00, so be it.

We got going on a big downhill early on a winding road and we had to go single file to avoid traffic. The views of the lake were amazing, and the forested areas were very nice, too. I was moving all right early, but definitely not fast. I had no spring in my step and I definitely realize at this point that I have dead legs.

I felt nauseous for quite a while. I was sick to my stomach and pretty miserable. I know this is probably too much information, but I threw up a little bit in my mouth at about mile 10. It was just a little bit, but it was gross. I’d never done that in a race before.

My stomach started feeling a little better by about halfway through, but I felt like I had nothing physically. We bottomed out somewhere around 6,200 feet and started a series of gradual uphill climbs. I think I hit the half in about 1:45 or so. I don’t really remember and I wasn’t really concerned. I just knew to keep running hard so I could finish the run.

By about mile 16, I hit a point where I shut off the competitive switch mentally, because I knew there was nothing there. It was kind of a primal feeling. I was just running, looking at the trees and the laking, pushing myself with all that I had (or didn’t have), trying to get to where I had to go. It was a nice, albeit painful, feeling at that stage.

I kept rolling, but the miles were pretty slow. They were well into the 9s, which is a crawl for me. I knew there was a hill coming up at mile 23, but I had no idea exactly how difficult it would be. People can describe them in words all they want, but until you run it, you can’t feel it.

At mile 23, we were at about 6,300 feet. And then we started climbing. And climbing. I thought it was only a mile long for some reason, but we were still climbing at 24. I was shuffling at about a 12-minute pace. I was still shuffling at that speed as we continued to climb through 25. Around every turn, I thought it would level out, but I kept seeing more of the hill. We finally peaked at about 25.5. Elevation was 7,038 feet. That had to have been the worst hill I’ve ever run up in a race.

We made a turn off the road we were on down to the finish. I didn’t know what to expect for the finish line, so when I closed in and saw a man sitting at a table next to a chalk line, I asked if that was the finish and it was! Thank goodness! I crossed through to complete the toughest marathon I’ve ever run. No question about it. That was brutal! The hills, elevation and late climb made it an incredibly challenging run. But it was beautiful and it was nice to be out there running.

On a side note, and a pre-triple dinner event the night before, I was recognized for what I’m doing with Operation Jack, so it was nice that a lot of people heard about what we’re trying to do.

Anyways, I finished in 3:49:42, and really, that doesn’t even faze me. In May I might have cared. Right now, I don’t. I went out, I gave it my all, and I wore myself out for Operation Jack. That’s what I’m here to do, so I’m glad that’s what I did.

44 and a couple of ultras down, 17 to go. Next up, leg 2 tomorrow!

It’s taken 43 marathons this year, but I think I’ve finally gotten to the point that I’m not stressing about my finishing times. I know at this point that I’m banged up and I can’t run like I’m fresh. If all I can do is go out and beat myself up and go as hard as I can, I’m not going to lose any sleep over it. Sunday’s Mountain Air Marathon in Colorado was a perfect example. I expected to be slow, I was two minutes slower than I thought I’d be, and I’m totally fine with that.

This race was a last-minute addition to the schedule. I originally planned to run in Yonkers, N.Y., Sunday, but I switched that to Boulder, Colo., about three weeks ago, because it was going to be a lot more effective for Operation Jack.

However, the race in Boulder was postponed six days in advance, which left me scrambling to find something to run. Fortunately, I found the Mountain Air Marathon, which was 225 miles southwest of Denver, starting in Crested Butte and finishing in Gunnison, and didn’t force me to change my airline tickets. It just added 450 miles of driving to the weekend.

Boulder was going to be a challenging race, because it had lots of rolling hills and the elevation varied from 5,200 feet to 5,600 feet — serious oxygen deprivation for a sea-level guy like me. The Mountain Air Marathon, appropriately named, started at 8,955 feet and ended at 7,850 feet. The highest elevation I had previously hit was in the 7,200-foot range at the peak of the Park City Marathon four weeks ago.

The elevation, combined with the fact that I was coming off of back-to-back weekends with ultramarathons, didn’t give me much hope of a great day. Regardless, I knew I’d go out and give it my all. I wasn’t hoping for much better than a 3:40, though.

Once we took off, I took it fairly easy, taking my time to get my heart rate up. Breathing was a little tough and it was chilly. I knew I was in for a long day and I did my best to make sure it wasn’t any longer than necessary. I was feeling fairly winded by about 3-4 miles in, but I comfortably locked into a groove of about a 7:30 pace. By about mile 5, my hamstrings started feeling pretty tight, which hasn’t happened yet this year. It made sense to me, though. I normally stretch my hamstrings pretty well after my training runs, but I’ve only been riding the bike at the gym for the past two weeks, so I haven’t stretched at all. I didn’t stretch after my 54-miler last weekend, because I was cramping pretty badly.

Although my hamstrings hurt, that didn’t really slow me down. I kept knocking off miles in that 7:30 range and went through the half in 1:42 and change. I felt better than I thought I would and was hoping to have enough to hang on to a sub-3:30. I kept an eye on the elevation, hoping we were dropping at a consistent pace. If the race ever leveled off, I knew I’d be toast. Everything seemed fine and I was encouraged about the second half.

However, out of nowhere, both of my legs got extremely stiff at about mile 15. I didn’t hit the wall. I was just in a ton of pain. I’m getting used to running through pain, and while I don’t like it, I deal with it. The only bummer is that it slows you down and the miles seem to drag on forever. I started running in the 9:00 – 9:30 range, just trying to hang on and breathe. I got passed by a few people and didn’t really care. It was me against myself and that’s all I could focus on.

The course seemed to be running a bit long — I know what kind of tangents I’m running and I truly believe they measured it about 2/10 of a mile long. It wasn’t a huge concern to me, though. If you’re going to run 26.4 instead of 26.2, you might as well see what I saw. It was nature at its finest. It was exactly what you think of when you think of Colorado. Mountains, plenty of trees, leaves turning gold, rivers, open fields — it was a beautiful course, definitely in the upper tier of courses I’ve run this year. Probably not a destination race, because it’s difficult to get to and it’s a small race, but it’s a great course.

Anyways, at mile 22.5, we were at about 7,800 feet. And then at mile 23.5, we were at about 7,950 feet. It was a brutal mile that seemed to leave a lot of us for dead out there. By mile 25, I saw three guys a few hundred yards up. I don’t have much speed right now, but I have endurance and I decided to kick for the last mile and try to pass them. I caught two of them at about 25.4 and I could tell they weren’t going to catch me. The third guy had passed me at about mile 22 and was moving pretty well, but I felt good and went by him with about a 1/2 mile to go. I kept pounding because I didn’t want to give him any hope of passing me back.

As luck would have it, there was final climb at about 25.9 before we headed into the football stadium on the campus of Western State College to finish with 300 meters on the track. I was limping a little bit but kept going as hard as I could. The WSC track team was there volunteering and cheering us on, which was a bit of a boost. I went somewhere right around 3:42 flat, good for 9th overall. They had an ice tub, which was nice to sit in for a little bit. I also stretched afterwards this time!

All in all, a tough day, but really, I can’t complain about running a 3:42 at that altitude in my 43rd marathon of the year after running ultras each of the previous two weekends.

So there you have it, 43 down, two ultramarathons in the books, 18 to go! Next weekend, the Tahoe Triple.

September 11 is a day that really troubles me. I think back to the events of that day, and all the innocent people killed, and the way it changed this country forever, and it really upsets me. I’m proud to be an American, and I enjoy Independence Day, but I think I feel more of a sense of national pride on September 11. In my blog on Thursday, I told you guys to do something American. I don’t think I could have done anything more American that participate in the Patriots Run in Olathe, Kan.

The Patriots Run is a combo timed ultra (nine hours, 11 minutes) and a marathon. I participated in both. They both started at noon, but I entered each race so I could have two official times. The course is a fairly flat loop in a parking lot of a mall in Olathe, a Kansas City suburb. There were bands and DJs playing the entire time, I could hear the PA on about 75 percent of the course and there were a lot of people hanging out with pop-up tents, tailgating and watching the race.

I could smell grilling, there were American flags all over the place and I could hear people listening to college football games. Some folks even help up white boards with scores so those of us running would know how teams were doing. There was solid military participation in the event, relay teams of troops carrying big packs dressed in full fatigues. Two men carried large American flags for the duration of the run. Another had the names of three relatives killed on 9/11 on his back.

Near the end of the race, one of the Army teams ran the course carrying a huge log or something like that overhead (it must have been 15 feet long and 2-3 feet in diameter), drawing applause from spectators. The volunteers were great and lots of spectators were generously offering assistance. This race was run in the Heartland, and it was nice and humid with the hot sun blazing overhead. It’s a tribute to 9/11 victims and proceeds from the race go to charity — I think the Salvation Army, but I wasn’t sure. Basically, it was as American as it gets and I loved it. That all being said, I’ll talk a little bit about how I ran.

It was hot out — 80 degrees with 70 percent humidity, very difficult running conditions. The race started at noon and ended at 9:11. I checked hourly forecasts and I knew it was going to get progressively warmer (only slightly) until about 5 p.m. and we’d start to get shade sometime after 7 p.m. I was entered in the marathon and the ultra — I was more focused on the ultra, but I still wanted to do my best for the marathon.

When we took off, I knew within about a mile it was going to be a tough day. I hadn’t run all week since my 45-mile/7-hour race the next day. I rode the bike at the gym, but I wanted to minimize impact and pounding. My legs felt good walking around, but once I started running, I could tell they were dead. And of course, I was roasting in the heat. I knew it was going to be a long day.

I dragged through the marathon, but got slower and slower. I hit the half somewhere around 1:47 and went 3:46, which was good enough for fifth place in a small field on a hot day. If you’ve followed along this year, you know that’s nothing I’m happy about.

I ran the entire marathon, but while I didn’t walk during my 45 miles last week, I knew I’d use a run-walk strategy immediately after I completed 26.2 miles. There was a stretch of about 1/10 of a mile from the aid station around a curve that I walked, then after 3/10 of a mile of running, I walked 1/10 of a mile up a slight incline and then ran 1/2 a mile to complete each loop. Repeat, repeat, repeat. I was running miles in the high 8s by the end of the marathon and once I kept rolling with the walk breaks, those crept into the 10s, then eventually 11s and 12s.

At mile 30, I asked a spectator to borrow her phone to call my wife and let her know that I was OK. I’ve found that women like to know that their husbands are alive and well when they’re running in the sun for nine hours. I found out on that call that our oldest son accidentally spilled water on Tiff’s laptop. She started asking me all sorts of questions, but I had to remind her I was in the middle of a race and I needed to keep rolling!

When I was on lap 33, I heard the PA announcer say the ultra leader was on lap 33, but he didn’t say who it was. I thought it was entirely possible it was me, but I knew there could have been other people on the lead lap, too. So, I started to have thoughts about going for the win, even though that was still more than four hours down the road.

On lap 40, I stopped to call Tiff again and let her know I was OK. Everything sounded like it was going a little better back home. About five minutes into the lap, I passed a guy who was talking to a woman and I could hear him say he was on 40. I suspected he was my competition, although it was tough for me to know if he was a lap ahead, a lap behind or on the same lap. I just knew I needed to keep an eye out.

At about 7 p.m., I could feel both my calves feel like they were on the verge of cramping. I never use electrolyte tabs and I know that in long races in the sun, that’s pretty important. I had been drinking a lot of Gatorade at the aid station throughout the day, but at that point, I started eating a fair amount pretzels each time through to get the salt in my system. I knew it was going to be a matter of me hanging on until the end without blowing up. I was getting concerned.

My miles slipped down to about 12 minutes each. I had been looking at 55 miles as my goal for the race, but I could tell I was slipping down towards 52-53. For some reason, with about an hour to go, I caught a second wind. I called Tiff one last time at mile 48 and it sounded like everything was fine back home, which is nice. She had a rough day Friday and I hate it when that happens when I’m gone.

Anyways, once I left from there, I was doing math in my head and knew that 53 was looking good, but if I could average a little better than 11-minute loops, I would have a good shot at 54. It was cooling off, down to the high 60s or so, which made it a little bit easier. I started knocking off laps in the mid-10s and when I ran, I was in the mid-8s. I forget exactly what times I completed some of the later laps, but I knew after I hit 51 miles that I’d be able to hit 54 if I skipped my last three walk breaks. I was dreading it, because those helped me re-energize during the later parts of the day, but I knew that I’d been working so hard for so long, and I didn’t want it all to go to waste over a walk break.

With two laps to go, I crossed through with the guy I had seen on lap 40 and he told his friends he was excited, because he knocked out that lap in 9:30, which is exactly what I had done it in. I knew I had a race on my hands, but I was pretty tired. I took my walk break from the aid station. I needed to catch my breath and get one last drink before pushing on for the final 1.9 miles. I could see him gain quite a bit on me during that time, but physically, there was not a lot I could do. I had to walk.

I kept shuffling as well as I could and I don’t know how quick that mile was, but I’m pretty sure it was quicker than nine minutes. When I crossed the mat for mile 53, I knew I’d hit 54 because I had 13 minutes or so. But I needed to run that guy down! I didn’t know if he had lapped me or if he was just 1/4 lap ahead of me, but there was no sense not doing everything I could to pass him, just in case.

I went as hard as I could and could feel the twitching really bad in both hamstrings and both calves. I came up on him with about a 1/2 mile to go, right at the top of the incline I had been walking. I was thinking about hanging behind him and passing later, but I felt strong, so I just powered by and kept rolling. I was striding funny, because my legs were about to lock up, but they didn’t until after I finished. I ran that last mile in 7:53. Sure enough, we were on the same lap and he was the race leader, so I won the race! We both completed the same number of laps, but since I finished about two minutes ahead of him, I took first place and he was second.

I continued on after the finish walking for a bit until the clock hit 9:11. I couldn’t quit until the end in a race like that. It was a lot of fun and a great way to spend a day. I know I’m doing what I’m doing for Train 4 Autism, but I ran this one thinking a lot more about September 11 and how proud I am to be an American.

So that’s all, I guess. 42 and an ultra down, 19 marathons to go!