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hell or glory: the endless mile 48 hour race

Race Information

Goals

Goal Description Completed?
A don't quit early, do the full 48 Yes
B 100 miles Yes
C 110 miles Yes
D 116.3 miles (top 10 leaderboard) No
E podium No

Splits

Hour Mileage
1 6.5 miles
2 6.2 miles
3 5.9 miles
4 5.4 miles
5 4.9 miles
6 4.5 miles
7 4.1 miles
8 3.5 miles
9 3.7 miles
10 3.5 miles
11 3.5 miles
12 3.1 miles
13 2.1 miles
14 1.1 miles
15 3.1 miles
16 3.5 miles
17 4.3 miles
18 0 miles
19 2.8 miles
20 1.4 miles
21 2.8 miles
22 2.8 miles
23 3.2 miles
24 3 miles
25 3.2 miles
26 2 miles
27 2.8 miles
28 1.4 miles
29 2.4 miles
30 2.4 miles
31 1.6 miles
32 2.6 miles
33 2.4 miles
34 0 miles
35 0 miles
36 0 miles
37 0 miles
38 0 miles
39 0 miles
40 0 miles
41 0 miles
42 0 miles
43 0 miles
44 0 miles
45 0 miles
46 1.4 miles
47 3.8 miles
48 5.7 miles

Training

Ok, so, first of all: I did not train for this. I’ve been running all summer, but that’s not the same as training for a multiday ultra. If you’re interested in the raw numbers, check out my strava training log and see for yourself (https://www.strava.com/athletes/15875698/training/log). I’ll also provide a short summary of just how much I fucked myself going into this. In my defense, I didn’t plan to do this race, and only signed up about 3-4 weeks out from race day because I was bored. Please do not repeat my mistakes.
Okay, let’s rewind to, say, June. I’m in Pennsylvania living at my parent’s house for a month while I try to put my life back together. I’m doing the GVRAT (Laz’s virtual race, ~635 miles in 3 months). I’m just trying to maintain a base at around 40-50 mpw. June passed fairly uneventfully running-wise, with weekly mileage of 55 mi, 41 mi, 55 mi, 55 mi and a few walks/hikes sprinkled in. I was doing 1 workout per week (just kinda whatever I felt like that morning, fartleks or tempos usually). Long runs were around 13-14 miles with some quality sections here and there.
In early July, I drove back to Colorado, moved out of my old apartment that I had shared with my ex, and moved into a new place on my own. My running stayed about the same as before, but my daily walking skyrocketed. My monthly running mileage was 51 mi, 34 mi (moving week), 55 mi, 53 mi, 55 mi. When you add in walks (which I think count when you’re doing a race that will be a LOT of walking), my weekly mileage in July went 51 mi, 34 mi, 80 mi, 80 mi, 81 mi. As you can see, I was adding about an extra ~25 mi per week from walking every day after work. I had a lot more free time and while I kinda wanted to use that time to do doubles every day and bump my mileage up a lot, I knew that it maybe wasn’t the smartest option, so I settled for walking. My long runs were still around 13-15 mi (and no back-to-back long runs, let me be clear. The run the day after my long run was around 6 miles). I was still doing a weekly workout of whatever felt fun that day.
August was both a “big” month (when you count walking) and a shit month (if you look at just running). Running mileage was 47 mi, 44 mi, 40 mi, 31 mi. With walks, it was 72 mi, 74 mi, 58 mi, 68 mi. Long runs dropped a bit, to about 10-12 miles, still with zero back-to-backs. I was beginning to feel the effects of covid-seclusion-brain as well as dealing with the emotional fallout of the past few months. On the plus side, I started going to a weekly track workout with my boss and some coworkers, which helped make me feel human at least once a week.
September continued in the same vein as August, but with less walking. So, not much running AND not much walking. Truly, great training for a multiday ultra in October. But again, I wasn’t planning on running any races for the rest of 2020 so I wasn’t too bothered. Weekly mileage for September went 35 mi, 47 mi, 47 mi, 56 mi. With walks added in, it was 49 mi, 51 mi, 61 mi, 62 mi. Long runs were around 13-14 mi, and for two memorable weeks it was only 8-9 mi. Sometime in the last week of September I decided to say “fuck it” and sign up for a 48 hour race. I knew I wasn’t prepared AT ALL, but I really missed the pain cave of an ultra. This particular race also has a lot of personal meaning to me. My first ultra was a 12 hour at this race, back in 2017. For years now I’ve talked about wanting to go back and try the 24 hour or the 48 hour, and for the first time in years, I could actually do whatever race I wanted to do.
October (or at least October 1-15th) was my taper. If you can call it a taper when you’ve basically been tapering for an entire month beforehand. Weekly mileage went from 56 mi to 46 mi to 37 mi. The taper was honestly fun as hell. I felt so fit, but in more of a 5k-half marathon way. I knew I didn’t have the endurance for this dumb race, but I felt fitter than I’ve ever felt before in my life, and I was hoping that it would help at least a tiny bit.

Pre-race

So I packed and re-packed for this race approximately 26 times. I wasn’t sure if I’d want to change clothes, or socks, or shoes, or whatever. So I brought everything I could think of. I even brought a beanie and gloves, on the off chance that it got chilly for a bit overnight (note: this is what the experts call foreshadowing).
I was crashing with a friend before and after the race, which made things easier (and cheaper). Now, this next part may be gross for any men reading but I am a firm believer that A. get over it, it’s normal and B. it is important to know if you want to get the full picture of my race. So, because I am an incredibly lucky person, I managed to start my period on race morning. While this is good hormonally (women tend to get a bit of a performance boost from the drop in hormone levels), it added a nice extra layer of complexity to my next 48 hours. Yay! pre-race 'fit in my sweet artc singlet
Anyway, after that lovely realization, I drove over to the race start and started prepping my stuff. A friend of mine was coming down from Georgia that day to hang out and camp and then run the 24 hour the next day. I knew I could use his tent and setup once he got there, so I just kinda dumped my stuff on the ground and vaguely organized it so that I could see everything easily. Visual proof of the poorly organized aid pile I put on my windbreaker (it was drizzling and mid-50 degrees F at the start) and waited around until 8:55 am. With 5 minutes to go before race start, I meandered over to the start line to hear the race instructions and size up my competition (LOL). I knew from stalking ultrasignup that there were a few women with a lot of multiday/48 hour experience, including one woman twice my age who had just done ~140+ miles at a 48 hour in February. I was absolutely expecting her to kick my ass. I’m fairly used to getting my butt handed to me by people twice my age or older in ultras. It gives me warm fuzzies, and a hope that when I’m their age I can be that person. I also saw Ed Ettinghausen (a legend in multiday racing… you may know him as the guy who always dresses up like a jester) and Ray Krolewicz (another legend in ultrarunning, at least in my opinion). Ray had been at this race back in 2017 when I ran it for the first time. I wasn’t sure if he remembered chatting with me briefly while I was running the 12 hour. But I remembered. He called me out in the first hour, asking why I was running so fast when I was doing the 12 hour and telling me to slow down before I destroyed my legs. And after the race, he told me I needed to keep doing ultras because I had some talent (which obviously stuck with me, if I remember it three years later). I crossed my fingers that we’d get some “walk and talk” time later in the race, because I distinctly remembered him being hilarious and great at getting me out of a shitty mood and I figured I’d definitely need that at some point.

Race

How does one distill 48 hours into text? Let’s find out. I left myself voice memo’s at various points of the race, because I knew it would all begin to blend together in my head afterwards. Some of them are funny and some of them are a bit sad. But that’s life, I guess. The concept of running 100 miles in 24 hours has sometimes been referred to as “life in a day”. I’d say 48 hours follows that idea, but more like two lives in two days. There are peaks and valleys. You’ll feel like you may never be happy again, or you’re done running for the rest of the race. But it never always gets worse, and sometimes it even gets better and suddenly you’re running sub-10 minute pace at hour 46 and you don’t really know what’s happening but you’re definitely not going to question it. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Hours 1-6: (9 am - 3 pm)
So, at 9 am sharp, the gun goes off and we all start to shuffle across the line. No one is going very fast, which makes a lot of sense when you remember that we have to keep going for two days straight. One girl gaps everyone by quite a bit by about half a mile in, and my dumb competitive side starts to kick in. I had conveniently forgotten that there were relay teams in the race, and it never even crossed my mind that she might be a relay runner who only had to run for a few hours. This was mistake #1 (of many!). While trying to make sure I kept this girl in sight, I completely abandoned my tentative plan to run no faster than 10 min/mile in the first few hours, and blazed through the first ~4ish hours at sub-10 pace, including pauses at the aid stations and my personal aid pile. At this point, I was already starting to feel my lack of long runs in training. Huge shocker, I know. It was a little terrifying to think that I still had 44 hours to go. So I just tried to stop thinking about it, and focus on the hour I was currently in. At one point, I texted a friend to ask what % of critical power I should aim for during a 48 hour race, partially as a joke. He told me no matter what, don’t go over 80%. Oops. I had definitely been routinely going over 80%, and only barely averaging below it for lap power. I was beginning to slightly regret not actually making any sort of pacing plan before the race started.
Hours 5 & 6 were where I really started making more of an effort to walk. The course has 4 “hills” (which have maybe a combined elevation gain of ~25 ft), and I used them as my walk cues. Some people do a very structured walk/run (25 minute run/5 minute walk, 4 minute run/1 minute walk, etc), but I prefer to just do everything by feel. Doing it based on course landmarks seemed easier to keep track of, instead of having to constantly look at my watch and do math, or having to program intervals into the watch ahead of time. I averaged about 13 min/mile for these hours, and about 11 min/mile for the first six hours altogether.
Hours 6-12: (3 pm - 9 pm)
This 6 hour block progressed much like hours 5 & 6. At around the 9 hour mark, I began recording periodic voice memos to myself as a way to try to remember how I felt at different points of the race. I knew it would all start to blend together in my mind, so I wanted to have a concrete record of how I felt, especially the bad sections. I have a tendency to forget all the shitty parts of the race afterwards, which I think is a survival mechanism in my dumb brain that lets me keep doing these races. In my first voice memo, recorded at about 9.5 hours in, I talked about how I was doing a lot of walking because my legs felt dead and my adductor longus was screaming bloody murder at me. A woman who had been consistently about one lap behind me the entire race was putting forth a concentrated effort to catch up and pass me. She was doing a lot more running than I was at that point, and basically had her own personal pacer (a guy who was also doing the 48 hour who spent the entire race running right ahead of her or beside her and giving her encouragement). In the voice memo, I make it very clear that I do not care at all if she catches me or passes me, because there are 38 hours left in the race at this point and there’s still so much that can happen or go wrong for either of us. The real race probably hasn’t even started yet! At around 8:30 pm, I chatted on the phone with my mom and dad briefly, catching them up on how I was feeling and how the race was going. It was beginning to get a little chilly now that the sun was down. These six hours passed at a 17 min/mile pace, which tells you that I wasn’t kidding when I said I was doing a lot of walking at this point.
Hours 12-18: (9 pm - 3 am)
This is about when things begin to get a little blurry. I remember starting to get cold and putting on all the layers I had (a sweatshirt, sweatpants, beanie, gloves, and buff). At around 9 pm, I recorded another voice memo, where I said that I had been exclusively walking for awhile and had taken a quick nap earlier. I remember this nap, because it was another huge mistake. I had planned to just nap on the ground, with an inflatable pillow and small microfiber towel I had brought with me. This was dumb. Turns out, lying on the cold dirt while feeling very cold will just make you feel even more cold. After lying on the ground, shaking uncontrollably from the cold and getting zero sleep, I eventually got up and kept walking. Hour 12.5 face I tried to warm myself up with a cup of hot chicken soup but that only helped while I was drinking it. Once my tiny cup ran out, I started getting cold again.
At 16.5 hours, I recorded another voice memo to myself. I explained that in the hours between 9 pm and 1 am, I had gone through a huge rough patch of being very cold and having a hard time moving forward at any sort of respectable walking pace. I finally had a burst of inspiration and went to my rental car, turned it on, blasted the heat for 15 minutes to warm up, and started moving again, feeling much better than before. After I warmed up, I ran into Ray K. If you’ve done any fixed time race, especially on the east coast, and you dont know who Ray is, you might live under a rock. As he loved telling me, he’s been doing ultras “since before you were born”. According to ultrasignup, his ultrarunning history predates my birth by about 25 years. I walked with him for probably about an hour or two, and it honestly saved my entire night. For one, his walking speed is a lot faster than mine, so he helped get my butt moving faster than I would have if I was on my own. More importantly, he is one of the chattiest people I’ve ever met, and he kept me entertained the entire time by telling me stories about Yiannis Kouros and Bruce Fordyce, about how he kind of snuck into Western States one time, and about his adventures doing Vol State and Heart of the South in the same summer.
After getting to around the 16 hou100k mark and parting ways with Ray for a bit, I decided to try to jog at least 30 seconds or so each lap to try to break up the monotony. After that first spurt of jogging, I realized that my legs felt great running. Suddenly, I was spending most of the lap running. I even started throwing in some surges of faster running to loosen my legs up. I shed a lot of my warm layers because the extra exertion was making me start to sweat. I made it about an hour or so at about 12 min/mile pace (including my stops at the aid station… I was beginning to get the nickname of “Hot Chocolate Girl” because I kept getting cups of hot chocolate to keep myself warm). After this sudden burst of energy dropped off, I decided to take another ~30 minute nap in my warm car. These six hours passed at an average pace of 25 min/mile, which includes my periodic ~30 minute naps where I was blissfully moving at a 0 mph pace.
Hours 18-24: (3 am - 9 am) After getting up from my latest nap, things began to get a little pathetic. There’s a handful of voice memos recorded that are just muffled crying noises intermixed with exclamations of “I’m just so cold” and “I feel like I’ll never be warm again”. I honestly don’t remember many details from about 3 am until 6ish. It all blends together into an overwhelming feeling of cold and misery. At around 6 am, I recorded yet another crying voice memo about how the sun was finally coming up and how happy it makes me (which sounds slightly odd, as I’m audibly crying while saying that).
Luckily for my morale, once the sun started to rise, two things happened: I remembered that hot food exists, and my friends and family started to wake up. I started grabbing bacon every few laps, and had a religious experience with the best fried egg I’ve ever eaten in my entire life (and which I ate with my hands, to try to avoid carrying a paper plate and fork with me for an entire lap). The hot food (and calories!) helped bring me back from the deep pit I was in. Turns out, trying to subsist on hot chocolate and the occasional handful of skittles isn’t enough calories and can lead to grumpiness.
At around 7:30, my lovely friend Katie called me and we talked on the phone for an hour while she did her morning run and caught me up on things I was missing in the group chat and I gave her all the ridiculous details of my disaster of a dating life. It was an amazing pick-me-up and helped get my morning off to a good start. Day two, here we come!
At the end of the first 24 hours, I had somewhere between 82 and 84 miles, depending on how much you trust my GPS (I don’t have access to the detailed lap splits yet, so the actual mileage is still unknown). I didn’t realize it at the time, because my watch had reset & saved my first activity somewhere around hour 17 while I was in my car warming up and charging my watch. Thanks garmin! I was convinced I was around ~80 miles, which was a disappointment. I had reached 82 miles in my last 24 hour (which took place during a mild blizzard and I had been similarly undertrained for), and I had kinda been hoping to at least match that mileage during this race, as stupid and ill-advised as that sounds. These 6 hours passed at an average pace of 23 min/mile, which is honestly surprising because I could have sworn I was moving as slowly or slower than the 6 hours preceding.
Hours 24-30: (9 am - 3 pm, 2nd day)
At 9 am, the 24 hour, 12 hour, and 6 hour races started. At first, I thought maybe the addition of more runners beyond the ~40 or so 48 hour runners would be energizing. Instead, it just kind of annoyed me. Getting passed by so many people and almost getting shoved off the path by the wave of runners made me even grumpier. I was also feeling quite jealous that other people could physically run while I was stuck in a painful shuffle. On the plus side, a few friends had started their races, so I got to see some new friendly faces out there while they were lapping me.
Beyond the addition of the new runners, these hours are mostly a blur of pain and more misery, just less cold than the nighttime hours. At around 26.5 hours, I recorded another voice memo to myself. I was stuck moving at a slow shuffling walk because my legs hurt so bad I couldn’t muster up any gumption to try to move faster. I also made a plea to my future self to PLEASE pack warm clothes next time, no matter what the weather forecast said. It’s easy to get stuck in the running mindset of “oh well 50 degrees is warm, that’s shorts and tshirt weather”. Which is true when you’re running, but less so when you’re walking slowly in the dark. I was able to talk to my sister at around noon, and my parents at around 1:30. Those conversations weren’t quite as helpful as my earlier chat with Katie. I’ve noticed that sometimes when I talk to my family or extremely close friends during a race, it can actually fuck up my headspace even more because I feel like I can dump all my shitty feelings into our conversation and cry and complain so much that it just ends up making me even grumpier. I was yet again moving at a blistering 26 min/mile pace thanks to my dead legs and a few quick car naps here and there. I had noticed that taking a quick 15-30 minute nap had the tendency to cut some of my grumpiness and bad mood, at least temporarily.
Hours 30-36: (3 pm - 9 pm, 2nd day)
At around hour 30, I recorded my last voice memo, again complaining about not being able to move well and being reduced to a painful shuffle. I desperately wanted to be able to move faster because I had promised myself that once I hit 100 miles I could take a longer break. I had figured out that at my current pace, I’d reach 100 miles at around sunset and I really wanted to not have to be out in the cold again if I could help it. I knew it would go poorly for me. I was having some big issues with thermoregulation already, and the falling temperatures would likely make it worse. I have a distinct memory of walking along the path, shivering and cold with goosebumps on my arms, while in full direct sunlight and 70 degree temperatures. If I was cold in those conditions, nighttime was going to be hell.
Mile 95 face, very thrilled to be alive At around mile 95, my friend Kelly started walking with me to keep me company. She had originally signed up for the 6 hour race, but switched up to the 12 hour mid-race. I felt bad that she was walking with me (because I was moving so slowly) while she was technically racing and could probably be moving a lot faster if she was on her own. Walking with her for the 5 miles to reach 100 was so so helpful. At first I was kind of resistant, because I tend to like to be on my own when I’m feeling shitty, but about halfway through I realized just how nice and distracting it was to have someone to talk to. I think I finally get why people like having a pacer during races. I know, I’m a genius. After I finally hit 100 miles (in my donut compression socks, Hoka slides, and Javelina sweatshirt… really looking like an athlete), Ray told me I had to do at least one more mile before taking my long break. He told me that just in case I never got out on the course again, I’d at least be ahead of all the people who quit after reaching 100 miles.
Mile 100 (with Ray)!
Right after getting my buckle
With Kelly
So, Kelly and I did one more painful lap and then parted ways. I headed to my car to finally change my clothes a bit (tracksmith shorts to BOA poop emoji shorts) and just chill for a moment. I got in the car at about 7:30 pm and stayed there for the rest of this 6 hour block.
Hours 36-42: (9 pm - 3 am, 2nd day)
I spent pretty much the entire 6 hours in my car, huddled up and hiding from the cold. I was semi-traumatized from the night before, when I felt like I would never be warm again. I was just so terrified about it hitting me even harder the second night, after feeling cold and getting goosebumps while walking in direct sunlight in 70 degree F weather. I settled into a routine of starting the car, blasting the heat for 5 minutes to get the entire car nice and warm, stretching out on the reclined front drivers seat, trying to sleep for 45 minutes, waking up, and restarting the cycle again. It was miserable. I bargained with myself, berated myself for being such a wimp, and alternated back and forth between deciding to quit with 101 miles or deciding to get back out on the course once the sun came up and gutting out a few more hours.
Hours 42-48: (3 am - 9 am, 2nd day)
At around 6:30 am, with the sun peeking over the trees, I told myself to buck the fuck up and opened my car door. I started shuffling around the course again after grabbing some more bacon and eggs and reassuring the aid station cook that I was indeed still in the race after he hadn’t seen me all night long. I had 2.5 hours to go, and I started trying to do mental math to figure out how many more miles I could get. I figured I was moving at just over 2 mph, so 110 miles was likely out of reach. I had pretty much entirely given up on running anymore, to the point that I was walking around sockless in my Hoka recovery slides. Pro tip: don't run in slides During that first hour, I noticed my walking speed was getting faster and my legs were starting to feel… not normal, but way better than they had yesterday afternoon. I began to throw in little 30 second bursts of slow jogging. Those bursts started getting longer and longer, and suddenly I was almost fully running around the course in my slides. After a lap or two like that, I made a brief pit stop to change back into running shoes and set off again. Somehow grinning like a psychopath again
I jogged a lap with the aid station cook after he chased me down while drinking a beer, and we traded stories for a bit until we got back to the start finish area. As I noticed the clock turning over to the final hour, I resolved to push myself and give whatever I had left. During my first ultra, one of the volunteers told me that it’s important to always save something for the last hour. While that may have been more practical for a shorter fixed time race, I took it to heart and was determined to use whatever I had saved. I ran almost every single step of that last hour, averaging ~10:30 min/mile. I didn’t know what was happening. My legs felt so great. I was the only 48 hour runner who was actually running, and I was passing people left and right. Once we were down to about 15 minutes left, I grabbed my blue flag that I’d use to mark my last partial lap. I switched my watch face to just show the current time, because I knew I wanted to really empty the tank in the last few minutes. With about 5 minutes to go, I started to really push. My last mile ended up being at 8:40 pace, and with about a minute to go I started sprinting and was flying by the 48 hour shufflers at 6:00 min/mile pace. As I was dying in these last seconds, the airhorn blew and I skidded to a stop and stuck my flag in the dirt. I knew I had managed to hit at least 110 miles, and maybe 111 depending on the distance of that last partial lap.

Post-race

After the race officially finished and I checked my preliminary mileage (somehow they had me at 111 laps!), I chatted with Ray again while the RD’s congratulated the podium (I just missed out, placing 4th F and 9th overall). I told him how I was already planning my next 48 hour, and that I had a list of things to change for next time. He told me that I had a gift and a lot of potential to do well in the sport based on how he saw me running during the first night and at the end, and how I came back out to keep going after my long break on the second night. I honest to god almost started crying while I was standing there talking to him. He didn’t remember, but he said something extremely similar to me the last time we were at a race together. To have someone who I respect so much and who has such a long history and a lot of experience in the sport, tell me that I have potential and can do well… it meant so much. It’s easy to brush that stuff off when it comes from my friends or family, especially when they don’t really know anything about ultrarunning, but hearing it come from someone like Ray is different.
After recovering from that moment, I shuffled back to my car and drove an hour to my friends apartment, where I proceeded to crash on the couch for several hours, wake up briefly to eat an entire pizza and watch The Addams Family (because I learned he’d NEVER SEEN IT), eat a giant bowl of pasta, and then fall asleep for the night. I napped on and off all morning on Monday before heading home. While I had definitely been shuffling around like a grandma with a fresh hip replacement on Sunday, by Monday morning I felt surprisingly good. I didn’t have any blisters, my toenails all seemed to be in decent shape, and while my legs felt a little sore, they didn’t feel anywhere near as dead as I was expecting. I even did a test jog to and from my car while getting my bag to pack up and it felt….. kinda good? Upon arriving home, I was able to walk up the three flights of stairs to my apartment with zero issues. I went back to work on Tuesday like normal. I also started running again on Tuesday, just a short 20 minute shakeout on a flat loop near my apartment. I’ve had a few people tell me i’m being an idiot for running again so soon, and plenty of other people who are just shocked that I’d even want to run this soon. All I know is that my legs feel amazing, I don’t feel very fatigued, and my body just wants to run. So I want to listen to it. I don’t have any blisters, my gait is completely normal, and I don’t have any lasting muscle fatigue (that I can tell). I’m restricting myself to nothing longer than an hour for this first week back at least. I might throw in some hill strides and a short tempo next week if I’m still feeling great.
My running “superpower” has always been twofold: not getting injured (which Ray tells me isn’t JUST because I’m young, thank you) and recovering fast. I eat a lot of food and sleep a lot, especially after a race. My BMI is nowhere near the “underweight” range (and yes, I know it’s a flawed measurement) and I’ve never lost my period or had a bone stress injury. I may not be the fastest, but I like to think I can outlast my competition, both in training (by not having to take time off for injury) and in a race setting. I’ve historically had no issues doing the occasional Super Week where I double my weekly mileage (or more). After my first ultra, I remember feeling pretty creaky and hobbling out some 10-12 minute miles in the following days (I was run streaking at the time). With each subsequent “big effort”, I’ve found my recovery is faster and I feel normal again a lot quicker. I know there is likely still some residual stuff my body is dealing with even though I feel great, so I’m trying really hard to not do too much too soon. It’s hard!!
As far as the future goes, I’m signed up for two 2021 races so far: a 24 hour in April (that was a deferral roll-over from 2020), and Western States in June (which was also a 2020 roll-over). I’m also going to be rolling over my 2020 Quad Rock 50 miler registration, which will be in May. Right now, my tentative plan is to do some 10k-focused training until the end of January, at which point I’ll start lengthening my long runs again in prep for Western training. I still haven’t decided if I want to try hiring a coach again. Western is really important to me, and I want to make sure I give it the best I possibly can, but I just don’t know if I’m really a “coachable athlete”. As much as I want to see if I can get to 100 miles in the 24 hour, I realize it probably wouldn’t be the smartest choice if I’m going to really try to nail Western States two months later. So I’ll probably use that as a tuneup (maybe 50k-50mi) along with Quad Rock. I’d really like to get a faster Boston qualifier under my belt (I think I could go at least sub-3:25,and Ray thinks I could probably run about 3:20 if I actually did my long runs), but I don’t think I’ll have time for a full training cycle + race next year with Western in the middle.
With regards to future multiday races… I already know I want to give the 48 hour another shot to see if I can fix my mistakes and start getting into some real mileage. With how great my legs felt at the end and in the middle of the night randomly, I think I’d definitely like to try some even longer multiday races and stage races. I know everyone says to save the multiday stuff until you’re “older”, but I feel so drawn to it in the same way I feel drawn to races like Hardrock and Western States. I just want to see what I can do at something very stupid and hard, and I especially want to see what I can do now that I know a bit more of what to expect. There’s no glory in multiday races, which honestly is part of the appeal. Almost no one knows what a “good” result is for a 48 hr, a 72 hr, a 144 hr race. No one cares. It’s wonderful knowing that no one cares or knows if you did well or can measure you in any way. I also love the sense of camaraderie in these races, especially the small looped courses. You’re able to interact with everyone if you want to, while in a normal race setting you might not be able to (because they’re either way ahead or way behind you). I’ve gotten shit before for not being a “real” ultrarunner because I don’t only run trail races, and been told that these short loop timed races aren’t the same or they’re somehow “lesser”, which I think is bullshit. I personally believe this type of race could absolutely break a good trail ultrarunner, and they shouldn’t be underestimated or dismissed just because they’re “road races” or because they don’t traverse grand mountain ranges. I love mountain running, but I also love being able to absolutely shut out the outside stimuli that can distract you from the pain and just be present in the moment without having to worry about tripping on a root or making a wrong turn or getting lost or being eaten by a bear.
Made with a new race report generator created by herumph.
submitted by cPharoah to artc

Why was the response to the virus so poor in the West? The answer is quite simple - Western leaders naively believed what China was reporting, and WHO had been parroting for many weeks.

From Critical Spectator FB post:

So, a lot of people are asking - why was the response to the virus so poor in the West?
The answer is quite simple - Western leaders naively believed what China was reporting, and WHO had been parroting for many weeks. That includes even Donald Trump, who (notably) mentioned being reassured that PRC has it under control.
China has reported over 3000 deaths out of a population of 1.4 billion people, with millions allowed to travel in the midst of the epidemic - during the Chinese New Year. Chinese authorities themselves have committed many mistakes before taking a tougher stance and locking down cities and provinces. By then the epidemic should have spread far and wide.
Yet, despite all of these stumbles, the toll wasn't exactly horrific.
In proportion to population ca. 3000 deaths in China translate into 100-200 deaths in countries like Italy, Spain, France, Germany and 700-800 in the US.
But, of course, all of them boast far more advanced healthcare systems so the expectation would be even lower than that. After all - if the virus hasn't took a catastrophic hold over a country of hundreds of millions of people, in the middle of the peak travel season - so what should developed Europe and America fear?
On this basis, why would any of these countries stock up on millions or billions of masks or tens of thousands of ventilators if the expected impact was in mere hundreds?
However, as it is with totalitarian regimes which have no systems of independent checks and balances, no supervision over what they do and report, and are completely devoid of independent media - whatever they publish simply cannot be trusted.
It now turns out that the Chinese may have under-reported the extent of the epidemic not by a factor of 2 or 3, but as much as 15 or even 40, as the British suspect.
Suggestions have been made, given the round-the-clock operation of Wuhan's crematoriums, that the death toll in this one city alone could be 20, 30 or maybe even 40 thousand people.
Across entire China it may well over be 100,000. Of course in a pool of 1,400,000,000 even that is merely a drop. Surely, however, if these figures are true and had been reported reliably, then the West would have prepared for a much bigger blow.
With 30 or 40 times more cases, the number of expected fatalities in Europe rises to thousands - which means that, as it happens right now, hundreds of thousands would be infected. Naturally, national preparation for 100+ fatalities and a few thousand cases is different than for thousands of fatalities and hundreds of thousands of patients.
Other Asian countries and cities - like Hong Kong and Singapore - had, notably, a much better response for two main reasons:
  1. They have been through the SARS scare, what made them far more vigilant.
  2. All are relatively small but densely populated, so the threat of a rapid and deadly spread is much higher there - and so is treated more seriously.
So it's hard to compare experiences of a place like Singapore - where nearly 6 million people live packed in an area of 45 x 25km - to dozens of small towns in northern Italy or the Swiss Alps, where the nearest sufficiently advanced hospitals may be tens of miles away.
Sadly, leaders of those Western countries - for years eager to do business with China, shutting an eye on its many transgressions (internal and external) - have simply began to believe the facade it has put up. One of shiny new skyscrapers and modern cities - a country where innovation - supposedly - thrives, where modern products are made, which has advanced by leaps and bounds, and has become a part of the globalized world, with ambitions to become its leading superpower.
Surely it would act responsibly in the face of a serious epidemic and cooperate above boundaries to solve the problem?
Well - wrong.
But it's also where Chinese propaganda may have been too effective - to the point that, as its lies are being exposed, their consequences will come to bite the entire country, as the West counts its unemployed - and dead.
PS. The two photos were taken by me in Shanghai, back in 2013 - so, yes, a fairly long time ago. But they summarize the impression of the place - a beaming, futuristic metropolis, where in the side streets (just next to East Nanjing Road, to be exact), food is being prepared, quite literally, on the tarmac.
Perhaps by today this sight is gone from Shanghai at least (although I'm rather skeptical about that) but it is certainly not gone from China. And as it paints itself to be like the picture at the top, there's plenty of the rotten bottom left that nobody in the world paid real attention to.
Until now.
submitted by Much_Use to China

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