Obstacle Course Race

I find myself coaching a little band of beginner obstacle course entrants in preparation for the Spartan race.  When I proposed that my Spartan race teammates get together for some training sessions I had envisioned a series of tough, anaerobic training sessions rapidly mixing tempo pace running and calisthenics at a high level of intensity.  But my happy-go-lucky team of beginners has no appetite for strenuous effort and discomfort, and instead we spend our training sessions working on technique for navigating monkey bars and climbing over fences and under barriers. So the training is more like a return to childhood — frolicking at a playground and rolling in grass.  I am a bit worried as the event approaches and some of the team struggles to do even a few push-ups or one pull-up.  So we practice working as a team to help boost each other over a fence.  

I had initially sought to push to the limit and test myself in the obstacle course race - compete against the younger participants and see how I feel coming in and out of the obstacles at an elevated heart rate and out of breath.  But when race day arrived it was an obvious choice to stay with my team and help each other.  

The Spartan Race is quite a spectacle — thousands of participants  winding around a 6-kilometer course on a military base all day long in wave after wave.  We are a bit intimidated as we arrive and see the muscular elite group in the morning wave.  We start at the back of the 11am wave and jog to the first barrier - a 5-foot wall which my team lifts and pulls one another clumsily over.  Then we roll sideways under barbed wire -- and as you can see above the rolling practice clearly paid off.  

My main concern given how old and feeble I am was how my back would handle the 3 obstacles involving carrying things -- sandbags, buckets of gravel and giant iron “atlas balls”.  The latter I just don’t even take the risk of trying to lift off the ground, and instead just substitute the burpees (Spartan Race has you do burpees if you don't complete the obstacle).  


But you my back seems to be strong enough for the sand-bag carry --  you can see me here awkwardly plodding through this obstacle  (though not actually hoisting the sandbag onto my shoulder as recommended).  

At the end of the course is the "wall of fire".  In the past I might have been cynical about such a contrivance.  But as we say at my Saturday morning Hill Repeats -- "It is all about the photo opps and social media" — so our happy band tries to join hands and leap over the wall of fire (really just a wall of smoke at this point).  We aren’t entirely successful at getting all 7 of us together ( but at least no one trips and tumbles into the flames -- which apparently happened at one obstacle course event).

We finish the 6k course in a time of 1:24:46 which put me in 2,567th place.  

What do I think of obstacle course racing now?  The event itself was certainly fun, and has been great fodder for conversation.  More importantly, having the race on my calendar provided a great target and incentive for various strength training that I hope to incorporate into my long-term weekly training regime.  It is harder to hit the weight room with the Spartan Race behind me.  I am a big fan of having events to focus one's exercise around, no matter how competitive or non-competitive you might be.  I can't imagine doing a lot of these obstacle events - they are expensive at roughly $100 a shot, a bit of a hassle compared to run events and some of the obstacles are a bit risky for the feeble elderly like me.  But I do hope to compete in a future obstacle event.   

Spartan Training

So as part of my new Spartan lifestyle and obstacle-course race training, I go to a Saturday morning "Spartan Training Session".  

I am very impressed with the well-organized, free session.  As I wrote in the HIIT and the Social Athlete post, socializing and camaraderie seem to be a useful driver of sustainable fitness lifestyle. 

We spend a lot of time introducing ourselves as we do some static stretching exercises and then play an introductory game involving merging into a big group, grabbing each others hands and then untangling the mass of people.  

I really, really can't imagine my serious triathlon mates putting up with all this for very long at all.  

But on this sunny morning I am happy to play games and make new friends. 

Then we start the actual circuit training and I quickly discover something I suspected, but which proves even more dramatic than I anticipated.  I am either relatively good at obstacle race elements (running, climbing on the bars, push-ups) or I am very, very, very poor (ducking under bars, hopping over barriers, jump lunges).

We start with one of the exercises I am pathetically bad at - ducking under a series of barriers,  and soon all of the other team participants have lapped me on the little circuit.  Two of the workout  leaders notice my achingly slow pace and my painfully stiff awkward form and they immediately express their concern -- they seem genuinely anxious about whether I will hurt myself - whether I will survive and not be carried off in an ambulance and potentially sue them. 

Three different participants ask me if I am OK.  All the other participants seemed to have started with a burst of adrenaline and competitive spirit, whereas for me after all my decades of doing frequent endurance events I instinctively pace myself.  Not to mention it is 8:30AM and I'm dealing with the constant background fatigue from my various other training sessions.  I feel rather bad to be causing the leaders and groupmates so much distress-- maybe I should have worn my Ironman World Championship top? I have to think that would assuage some of their concerns about my overall level of fitness. 

I am fine when we climb on the monkey bars and then start running around the park.   

Then I decline to do the sit-ups altogether.  I realize this is not in the true spirit of the ancient Spartan warriors, but I have read so much criticism of sit-ups over the years and never liked the way they felt, and so I waited in the plank position while the real Warriors paired up and powered through the 30 sit-ups.  

Then at 9:40am, I commit another unpardonable Spartan Warrior sin -- I need to leave early.   When I tell our group leader that I need to bail out with 20-minutes remaining in the session he looks at me with a mixture of pity and disdain.  He tells me that I did a fine job and if I continue to work at it I will be stronger next time and perhaps have the endurance to make it through the whole workout. 




Epilogue -- It is at this point, at 9:40am that my most intense obstacle course racing begins, I have a group waiting for me across town to lead Hill Repeats and I sprint out of the park, down busy city streets, and into Ginza station - the whole way weaving and dodging people -- I must have been running at 3:20 per kilometers pace.  I manage to make it to hill repeat session just in the nick of time to lead everyone through the hill sprints. 

Pivot to Obstacle Course Racing

I decide to pivot to obstacle course races.


I sign up for next month's Spartan Warrior Race. 






A few of the more traditional runners I know in Seattle heap scorn and derision on these events.  To the purists, events like Tough Mudder, Warrior Dash, and Spartan Races are just a silly, fad for America's Millenial generation whose coddling helicopter parents have made them the "Slowest Generation" and who lack the competitive spirit and toughness to excel in marathons and half-marathons. 

The Spartan Race looks tough enough to me, and these obstacle races seems to have become a legitimate part of the sporting landscape.   According to Running USA, more runners participated in non-traditional races than traditional events, such as half-marathons and marathons, and these obstacle events have seen a 40-fold growth in participation since 2000.

Anyway, I am not really a purist.   If the triathlon was modified so as to be comprised of the three sports of  running, cycling, and bowling I would be willing to give it a shot, and start working on my bowling.    Admittedly I am partial to the sports I am better at, but I feel that it is good to diversify my training and my experiences. 

More simply put, I am keen to try something new right now.  

And I am keen to work on some of my weaknesses.  Unlike traditional road races, climbing over a 10-foot wall, up a 30-foot rope, over and under obstacles demands greater flexibility, coordination and upper-body strength - areas that I seek to work on as I grow old and feeble and inflexible.


And I am keen to continue my emphasis on high-intensity interval training.    Yet another recent study shows benefits of high-intensity training - slowing or reversing aging at a cellular level.   I view any one of these studies with skepticism, but this particular study comes on top of earlier studies showing HIIT as optimal for race performance improvement, cardiovascular health, neurological gains, and fat-burning.




The spartan race is on May 27, and so I need to start shifting into a Spartan Warrior lifestyle. 

No Race for Old Men - 2

Once again, similar to this Post from a year ago, I find myself the slow man on our club’s most competitive, open relay team 

-  running with 3 much, much younger teammates.

  

I am haunted by the memory of my performance at last year's rely - dropping our team from 3rd to 7th place.  In addition, my interval sessions the past few weeks have been slow and painful. I grow irrationally anxious about my readiness for the relay.  On race morning, I plead with  several of the fast runners on the club's three other teams to trade places with me - but no one was willing.

And the odd twist is that there was a Master’s Division at this event.  But the Race Organizers apparently felt that guys over 45 are just too weak and too feeble to run the open relay distance of 4 x 7.2-kilometers -- the Master's race is a mere 4 x 2.4-kilometers.   Having old guys do a shorter distance than younger guys is counter to my theme in the earlier blog where I noted that old runners gravitated to longer and longer endurance events where we are relatively more competitive.  None of my older teammates want to bother with such a short distance race  (Even though arguably we should focus on speed and strength as we get older...)  

So my club only fielded Open Division teams and here I was nervously waiting for the hand-off.   

My team is in 12th place (out of some 241 teams) when I receive the sash (baton).   I sprint off but am immediately passed by a much younger runner.  And then another.  And I fear the nightmare is repeating itself.  













However over this longer 7.2-kilomter course (versus the ultra-short 2.9-kilometers at the Shibuya Ekiden), experience and endurance play more of a factor.  I work the winding downhills and stairs midway through the course and overtake two competitors.  


Ultimately I am able to hang on to the 12th place position I inherited, and even though I record the slowest time of the team's 4 runners, I am pleased to avoid letting the team down..

Just Don't Get Injured 3 - My $175 Newton Running Shoes

The entire, multi-billion dollar industry is based on a campaign not of facts, but of fear. Fear that if you don’t buy a $175 sneaker and replace it in three months, you’ll ruin your knees. 

So why does anyone wear them? And how did the running shoe, which didn’t even exist before most of us were born, become a multi-billion dollar business and a purportedly indispensable piece of sportswear? 

-- Christopher McDougall, Author of Born to Run

During the Barefoot Running Era I was intrigued by the uprising against the supposedly evil Big Running Shoe Companies and the argument that Big Shoe was brainwashing us just like Big Pharma and Big Oil.  Was Big Shoe really conspiring with retailers, coaches, podiatrists, and journalists to spread fear and misinformation? 

I am not a “gear person’ and have lamented the expensive equipment “arms race” in triathlon, and I am cynical about the marketing surrounding running shoes -- much of the shoe reviews, and particularly salespeople going on and on about pronation and supination seemed meaningless to me (as the research in this article suggests).  

I really wanted this "shoes are bull ###" theory  to be true -- like I wrote earlier, I have a hard time budgeting for $175 shoes every three months.  

But, alas, I have personally observed a dramatic difference when switching shoes.  During the barefoot running era,  I transitioned to a mid-foot strike style of running by gradually increasing use of the Newton brand of shoes.  The Newtons models all are only 0-6mm between the height of the heel and the height of the mid-foot

Newtons were more expensive and difficult to find.  But the Newtons simply felt better on my feet, and I do find there is at least some merit to their “Action/Reaction Technology which supposedly absorbs and returns energy back to you better than other shoes and generates a boost in running efficiency 





 Nike's new shoes have created controversy recently with their even more aggressive energy-return





Even more importantly than race performance for me, the Newton shoes seemed to cause less stress. And once I had evolved into a mid-foot striking runner, switching back to any other shoes would trigger discomfort in my hips, knees and ITB

So I had  become deeply loyal to Newton (or perhaps I had become captive to Big Shoe, depending on your perspective).

Loyal or captive right up until I ordered a pair of Newton Distance last summer.  I was so pleased when they arrived, but then 2 kilometers into the first run my left Achilles protested.  Soon I switched over to an old pair of Newton Motion III which helped but did not resolve the problem.  Finally I resorted back to the classic workhorse pair of Asics DS Trainers, a 9mm drop shoe. 

Immediately the pain went away. 

Of course eventually after a few hundred miles of running with the Asics my other pains (hip, knee, ITB) begun to return.  So my running shoe section has evolved into a bit of a "whack-a-mole" dynamic as I repeatedly find myself rotating back-and-forth now between Brooks (10mm drop) and Newtons (0-6mm drop).    

Obviously then I don't agree with the real skeptics who dismiss the shoe's contribution entirely -- for me it is dramatic what a difference shoes makes.  But between this rotation among different brands and my need for both racing and training flats, I am afraid my 2017 shoe budget will be well over $600. 

Just Don't Get Injured 2

Long, long ago, back in my first running life, one of my friends took me aside and said: “Jay, you are a nice guy and all, but nobody really wants to listen to you go on and on and on about your running injuries”  It was only at this point it dawned on me why at various social gatherings people kept backing away and avoiding conversation with me, and why I couldn’t find a girlfriend    

Since that long ago time I have told myself not to torture people with the excruciating tedious accounts of all my running injuries.  

Moreover I have strived to maintain a positive mindset and tell myself I feel 100%.  Voicing complaints and dwelling on various aches and pains therefore seems counter-productive.  And anyway, I really, really don’t like to feel like I am making excuses for my lousy races.  It is tempting for me to start whining about how if only I could run as much mileage as various other guys, I could be sooooo fast. But then I remind myself that I am extremely fortunate to be able to run and enjoy the activity at all, and anyway I can think of 10 guys who would be way, way better than me if they were in turn not hampered by their injuries.  

So I go to great effort to censor myself about running injuries:   

• Every week when I arrive at my interval workout and a teammate greets me with a friendly “How are you doing?”  I reflectively start to reply: "I feel like crap - my hip and hamstring are so tight and my achilles is still in pain and my upper body is sore from the swim session”.  But as words start to come out of my mouth, I manage to catch myself and say “Great!  How are you doing?”  

• This is the 330th post in the Greater Perrinville Blog, most of them race stories, and it seems like I have started out wanting to preface each and every race story with some long, detailed account of how my training leading up to the event was compromised by some combination of hip, achilles, ITB, knee, calf, back, hamstring, heel, or foot pain. But for most part I have managed to avoid discussion of run injury.  Sometimes avoiding injury discussion to the point that it is absolutely weird - for example in the recent Angkor Wat 10k post I just ignore the central story entirely — why did I stop racing at 7k and walk the last 3k?  

• Recently a teammate commented: “Jay, it is impressive how you are never injured” – I thought this an amusing comment since I am essentially ALWAYS injured – if they would run behind me and they would notice that I essentially limp every step that I take.  

• At the Vietnam Mountain Marathon, I availed myself of the post-race therapy, and the  physical therapist asked me: “So how long has your hip being bothering you”.  “Oh, I guess since May" I replied guardedly.  "Oh, not so long then", he says. I had to admit to him:   "Well, actually when I said May, I mean May of 1980, so I guess that is a bit of a long time...."   In fact I don't know what it is like for my hip area to not feel slightly unbalanced -- it started feeling funny shortly after I first started running competitively -- back when Jimmy Carter was US president and has never really been 100% in the decades since. 

Only now, after the discouraging string of injury issues that have plagued me since last summer have I felt compelled to rant at length about these injuries and risk alienating any poor person who happens to be reading this blog.  

As I said in the last post, at my advanced age the whole game is increasingly about avoiding injury - so I have been adhering to a more steady, training routine.  But that is not the only thing I am doing to avoid injury: 

1. As always I am trying as best I can to "listen to my body
2. Do my strength sessions
3. Cross-train
4. Stretch - After all the controversy, I am back in the stretching camp 
5. Avoiding marathons -- Lately I don't dare even sign up for a HALF-marathon - let alone a full marathon - for the time being, the 10k is my longest race.  I feel I can either handle short and faster (up to 10k), or long and slower (longer trail races with a variety of terrain).  It is the combination of both fast and long that has been problematic --  blasting through a city marathon has felt simply wrong.    
6. Walking home midway through recent run when calf pain flared up 

Just Don't Get Injured

My teammates and I ran with one of America's top masters runners last week.  The guy has been strong year after year at different distances while maintaining a busy professional schedule.   So we ask the enlightened one – "Oh oracle of the ancient, master of the marathon, sage of the serious runners, what is the secret to your long success in the sport?"

The enlightened one was silent for a long time.  He stared into space with deep, mystic contemplation.  Finally he responded: "I have just one piece of advice".  We all leaned in closely, holding our breath, waiting for the secret to be revealed to us.  Finally he said: 

“Don’t get injured”

 Huh? We looked at each other with a mixture of surprise and disappointment after hearing this simple response.  I guess like many sacred revealed truths, at first it seems disappointingly obvious. Rather banal actually.  I mean, duh, of course we will try to avoid running injuries.

  

But on reflection , I find the words of the guru strangely useful, and consistent with my increasing focus on maintaining consistent mileage -- and not slowing down as I move into even older age groups.  As I noted in my previous blog post my focus in 2017 is on maintaining a sustainable, repetitive weekly routine (essentially 2 quality sessions plus 80% of mileage easy, volume runs), and avoiding any shock to the system.  Not sure yet if this is enough to avoid injury and achieve decent race performance, but so far I have felt better in the first two months of 2017 after struggling through all of the latter half of last year...  

Run Mileage Summary

I have read that true “competitive" runners log at  least 500 kilometers per month.

Well for me it would be nice to maintain 350 kilometers per month. Even 250 kilometers.  

Here is my actual monthly mileage since the run summary I posted in May:   

This all looks extremely similar to my post from last January  when I also lamented my inability to keep running during the summer triathlon season, and also noted a recent spike in volume. 

 Looking ahead, the goal for 2017 is to maintain a steady, sustainable level month after month after month.  

Starting 2017 with a Cold Ocean Swim

It's been a cold, late December and I've struggled with feelings of weakness and fatigue that comes from being out in penetrating, bone-deep cold.

And yet here I am on the Hayama beach getting ready for the annual TiT New Years Day swim.  Here even after reading this article describing deaths from hypothermia and cardiac arrest brought on by cold water swims.

I had also read about the benefits of starting every day with an ice cold shower: pushing you out of your comfort zone and creating willpower,  improving immunity and circulation, speeding up muscle recovery, triggering mood-boosting endorphins, easing stress, increasing testosterone, help your hair and skin, etc. 

I am not so keen on starting every day with an ice cold shower, but at least I can start the year with a cold (13 degree Celsius)  open-water swim. I try not to contemplate the cold water in the hour leading up to the swim, and when Mark shouts at us to start I am just thinking about keeping up with the group, and the shock of the water leaves me gasping.  My face feels numb and I immediately want to stand up out of the water, but the other swimmers are rapidly pulling away.  So I put my head down as best I can, catch up with the other six swimmers and am soon comfortably swimming  the 1.5 kilometers out and back to a beautiful nearby cove through the crystal clear winter sea.  Four of my hard-core teammates don't even bother with wetsuits, something I had not remotely considered.

And the cold water swim works!  I feel ready to tackle anything after powering through the swim.  The teammates who don't bother with wetsuits are even more positive - describing a euphoric, transcendent experience after their bodies adjusted to initial shock; and before the cumulative cold leaves them shaking uncontrollably. 

Now with the Polar Bear Swim completed the rest of 2017 should be a breeze. 

Angkor Wat 2016

I return to Angkor Wat for my annual low-budget Southeast Asia end of the year trip (and run).

Like the Chiang Mai Marathon, I have seen Angkor Wat Half Marathon and 10k evolve from a small-scale race for a handful of serious runners into a colossal tourist industry event.  A staggering 9,000 runners descend on a narrow area in front of the entrance to the temple for the sunrise start.  It has to be the most visually impressive and sublime location to start a race in the world, but it is an absurdly congested area for this many participants starting a half marathon then a 10k.   As loudspeakers blared right in our ears and huge crowds of runners surged in on us from both directions I start to be overcome by panicked claustrophobia.  I manage to focus on taking a few breaths and am able to calm down and return my attention to the matter at hand - getting somewhere reasonably near the starting line of the 10k.  Gradually we weave our way somewhat closer to the line, but despite our pleading and rather restrained effort, we are still chastised by an expat woman for for trying to nudge our way past her (yeah, I did kind of wonder what place this woman ultimately finished in the race, but you know - she is entitled to her opinion, there is certainly no reason to be annoyed, and as always I tell myself not to be excessively competitive).

Starting the race 4 rows deep does make the first 500 meters rather scary and draining (very much like the cross country race's explosive starts that leave me struggling through the remainder of the course).  Still I am with Arnaud at 1k in a slow 3:50 and the lead pack of about 10 runners is within range at about 15 meters ahead.  I had hoped to just stay behind Arnaud and kick at the end, but when I gasp to Arnaud "Shall we catch pack?"  he grunts back that I should go ahead alone.  It is a wrenching decision given how bad I feel, but maintaining contact with the pack is my only shot at being able to declare any real triumph for the day.

So I reluctantly surge ahead of Arnaud and burst to catch the pack, clocking 3:40 for the second kilometer. 

As always I appreciate this aspect of the sport - mixing it up with the other athletes, testing myself, pushing myself, and it is an intriguing effort to try and capture one of the 3 overall podium positions.  But on this day it is not meant to be -- I am fading by the 5k turnaround mark, lose contact with the leaders, and at 8k with my leg protesting, I wait for Arnaud and we jog the final few kilometers. 

But the trip is really about continuing my global search for great running courses.  So from Angkor Wat I travel to Laos and the idyllic 4000 Islands - 4,000 automobile free islands. 
I dream of automobile free islands -- running and cycling on roads free of all those horrible cars, and relaxing amidst the laid-back vibe that emerges when cars are removed from your surroundings.   And in southern Laos, the Mekong River spreads out to form some 4,000 Islands - all 4,000 of them blessedly free of cars.  Granted there are some motorcycles puttering along the bumpy dirt roads and admittedly most all 4,000 of these islands are essentially just rock outcroppings amidst the rapids.   But there are several islands ideally sized for circumnavigating on a bike or run.

Cross Country 2016

I dreaded the prospect of joining the CNW team for last weekend’s Pacific Northwest Cross Country championship -- the frantic high-speed start down a slippery grass hillside, the tight muddy corners, the lung-searing pain on the climbs, the self-conscious pressure of struggling near the back of the field in the fish-bowl setting of Lower Woodland Park's 6k course (3 times over a 2k loop).   

Maybe I could just find some charity race to boost my ego?   But like three years ago, I told myself to step up and mix it up with the hard-core master's runners.   I have been seeking to do more team events — the fun and camaraderie of contributing on a team is what essentially brought me back to competitive running this past decade.  And CNW's Master's team is a juggernaut - finishing either first or second place in nationals over the last 8 years.  During warmup I ask some of the CNW teammates about their overall racing program for the year and am struck again by their focus on cross-country — “I didn’t do any events in 2016 until the autumn cross-country campaign” one of the guys tells me, and another elite runners scoffs at the very idea of doing road races, concentrating only on track and cross country.

I want to make excuses about my focusing on triathlon, but I mange to bite my tongue.  Who cares?  It is all about cross-country today. 

My first kilometer is in 3:37, while my remaining 5k are all around 4-minute per kilometer pace.  But this is cross-country where even masters runners start too fast, and so I actually mange to struggle past other runners throughout the run.   

I had lower expectations this year.  If you lower your expectations enough you are bound to do OK.  And sure enough, my time of 23:50 - a 5-second improvement over last year - felt like a triumph.  I manage even to be in the top 7 for my age-division on the juggernaut team, though am still a minute behind the top 5 pack.  

Off-Season 2016 - No rest for the weary, just more fun and bizarre endurance events

It is that time of year again; the leaves are turning color, the grapes are ripening on the vine, school is back in session, the weather outside is crisp and clear -- autumn has always been my favorite season.  And just like last year it is my "off-season" - supposedly a time of rest and recovery - a time when the experts recommend taking it easy, focusing on lifting weights, honing technical skills, sleeping...  

But just like last year my off-season calendar is filled with another weird assortment of endurance events:

Adidas World Battle Run 

One of my key endurance events during my off-season.  OK, the event was all of maybe 80 meters in length so it was hardly an "endurance event" -- perhaps one would call it a sprint event.  And I am not entirely comfortable calling it a sprint event ---  essentially the World Battle Run was an Adidas marketing shoot in which us participants were "extras" who were compensated with the cool t-shirts, fancy food and drink and a funky, high-tech party atmosphere. 

We were also spurred to jump through the obstacles with the always-enticing motivation of free shoes for the winning team. My team of largely middle-aged, male distance runners seemed especially incentivized by prospect of winning shoes. During the long build-up to the obstacle event my team grew increasingly confident-- confidence bordering on swaggering cockiness.  In retrospect I am not sure what gave my team such confidence.


Personally I knew that I was not in my league at all (this was another "No Race for Old Men" where my advanced age and years of long-distance running and cycling combined to render me embarrassingly clumsy and inept on an obstacle course that rewarded quickness and finesse).


My teammates (though also slow-twitch athletes) were clearly more agile than me, but still no match for the teams made up of young, co-ed  basketball and rugby players.

I was a bit relieved that we were hopelessly in last place when my turn toward last leg of relay arrived.  Still I gamely stumbled through the various obstacles as best I could even as I am being totally overtaken as you can see in the adjacent picture.

At the end I absolutely exhausted, but primarily just relieved that I did not pull any muscles.  Despite my pitiful showing in the Battle Run I come away feeling determined to enter other obstacle type races in the future - one because of the sheer fun of it and two because of obvious need to diversify the type of exercise that I do.

Vietnam Mountain Marathon


I had sought to visit Sapa since hearing a fellow traveler's captivating description of climbing Mount Fanispan a half dozen years ago.  

So at last second I register for the Vietnam Mountain Marathon, an event of increasing popularity that attracts a variety of different runners from all over the world to a remote mountain setting, and that requires an overnight train and dangerous van ride along winding mountain roads to reach Sapa. 

It is my second "once in a lifetime race experience" in just over a single month (including Australia Worlds)


There is a lot to be said for recent race specific training the experts say.  But once again I have to rely on long-term muscle memory, memory that has faded with lack of any running on trails.  

I power though the first 7k uphill portion of the race and move into 4th place.  But it is pretty much all downhill for me after that (and as I am sure you already guessed:  I mean downhill both literally and metaphorically).

Apparently a winner never quits, and quitter never wins.  But by 9k I have totally given up on placing well in the Vietnam Mountain Marathon.  

I must have looked pretty bad.  At the 17k I stop briefly and immediately a kindly fellow runner came to a halt and asked if I am OK.  I was getting out my phone and I looked up to tell him "I just need to get a selfie"  The look of deep disapproval on his face when I tell him this is a bit disconcerting.  

But hey the terraced rice fields are simply stunning and when am ever going to be back on these remote trails? 

Afterwards I am asked about my "running race" by the wildly ebullient guest house staff, and I am not sure that it is technically accurate to call what I did a "running race" given I had walked or climbed more than 50% of the course so it wasn't technically a "run" and I did not consider myself to be racing anyone.   I was too busy enjoying the mountain scenery and the wildlife along the course

Fruits Marathon 

I enjoy a triumphant podium finish  -- 

with a crowd of teammates cheering raucously and the race sponsors awarding me a huge box of grapes.

The run experience was great fun --- 

running through vineyards, 

dealing with a wicked sequence of hills,  

mixing it up with teammate Michael T 

and enjoying my last second kick finish....

..... the next morning I look on Strava results and compare Fruits Marathon with my results at last May's Fuji-Susono 10k and I notice that my time at  Fruits was 2 full minutes slower on a course with less than HALF the elevation gain....

.....but...


.....I will take any glory I can get these days (especially after my triathlon season) 

and moreover, look at all these grapes...