Chuckanut 50k 2019: Snow, Mud, and Mastering Weaknesses
This was my third time running the Chuckanut 50k, and it never gets any easier (or any less fun). Chuckanut is a different breed of course, as ultras go - the first and last 10k are relatively flat running along the Interurban trail in Bellingham, which leaves all of the 1500+m of climbing in the middle 30k of the race. There is only one technical trail: the Chuckanut Ridge trail, which is a really fun, rooty and rocky ribbon of singletrack that, as the name suggests, traverses a ridge with great views of Mt Baker on a clear day. There is one abominable dirt road that climbs relentlessly for about 4k (the dreaded Cleator Rd), and one mile-long steep but mostly runnable climb trail called Chinscraper. Apart from that the trails are smooth, flowy up and down switchbacks and wide rolling double track. In other words, there is LOTS of variation, which keeps it really interesting and evens the playing field in different ways - there aren't that many runners who excel at all of those different types of terrain.
This year, I had three main goals for the race. The first was to run a PB (personal best time), which meant running faster than 5:23, a time I set in my first Chuckanut in 2016 - a year that brought rare perfect conditions. Being in mid-March, this race is often a mixed bag of awful weather and muddy trails. This year we were gifted with a beautiful, cool day, but had the "excitement" of the top 1/2 of Cleator Rd and some of the trails being covered with mushy snow and ice (as well as the usual sloppy mud). I knew that the snow and mud would slow me down and make that PB a challenge, but I also knew that I had a much more consistent training block heading into this year's race, as well as 3 more years of ultra running experience in my legs (and mind). My other two goals were specific to where I have previously struggled in this race: to do better on the "runnable" climbs, and on the last flattish 10k. My strengths are the technical ridge trail and the descents (both of which, unsurprisingly, I also find the most fun, and therefore the type of terrain I am naturally drawn to). Knowing this, I decided to take a different tactic with my training this year and focus on my weaknesses.
It's funny that back in my cross-country running days, I always felt that running hills was one of my strong suits. In the last few years, I seem to have become more of a downhill runner, and in races have tended to lose focus and motivation on climbs that I know to be runnable. I think I am afraid of pushing into a red zone of exertion and going too far past the point of no return. So this winter in training, I made sure to incorporate lots of tough but runnable climbs, and to force myself to run up them every time, instead of letting myself take short walking breaks to catch my breath and get my heart rate down. It trained both my legs and my brain to recognize that I could do this and still recover at the top and continue on the run without collapsing into a heap. In Chuckanut, I took the climbs conservatively but steadily. Cleator Rd actually felt easy - until we hit the snow, which wasn't deep but was soft and slushy enough that it was hard to maintain forward momentum. Although everyone around me (including me) had the immediate instinct to try to power hike through the snow, I quickly determined that it was oddly easier to jog with little steps on my toes than to walk, so stuck with this strategy for the rest of the road, motivating myself with the knowledge that I had the fun ridge trail at the top as a reward.
The ridge was mercifully clear of snow, and I felt utter joy take over as I flew along this trail. It is my absolute favourite part of the course, and I soon found myself leading a small train of male French runners, who kept hilariously exclaiming "She is so good on the rocks! Just step wherever she is stepping!", etc. It was funny and flattering, except I kept thinking this would be exactly when I take a huge bail and everyone behind me ends up landing on top of me... but thankfully, I stayed on my feet and as far as I know so did the French train. The middle of the race, the trails between the ridge and Chinscraper, was a messy mix of sloshy snow and sticky mud, which I know definitely slowed me down quite a bit. However, I did manage to keep a fairly steady pace through this section, and hit the aid station at the bottom of Chinscraper in decent time. I even managed to run up almost all of Chinscraper, which I was pretty proud of since that steep climb looms at ~33k into the race, and I was definitely starting to feel the fatigue creeping in. Once you crest that climb, it is almost all downhill for the next 5k until you reach the interurban trail again. The first kilometer or so of descent plunged us back into the slushy snow, and I ran it as hard as I could in what I am sure was a somewhat comical flailing of legs and arms, with my feet kicking out in awkward ways with every odd step on the slippery surface. It was a little stressful, and when we finally reached a course marshall who said, "That's it for the snow!", I almost hugged her. Back on gloriously hard packed dirt, I just let go on the rest of the descent and enjoyed running relatively effortlessly down switchback after switchback.
The last two times I ran Chuckanut, I absolutely died in the last flat 10k. It sounds like it should be relatively easy after running 30k with so much climbing and descending (and many people make the mistake of thinking this), but in my experience it has been quite the opposite: as soon as I popped out of the trail, my legs and motivation turned to lead and I slogged my way to the finish. As my friend Kim so eloquently put it, "the last 10k on the interurban is the devil and always will be". This year I was determined to do better on this section, and made it a goal to try to run the last 10k as close as possible to the time I ran in the first 10k. In training, I did a lot more running and workouts on roads than I normally do (which I actually loved!), and made it a point to finish every long run with at least a 4-5k stretch of flat road. This may have almost backfired early on, as I kept realizing during the first 10k of the race that I was happily running my tempo pace, and having to force myself to back off (!). Ultimately, though, it paid off in the end, as my last 10k was over 5 minutes faster than I have run it in past attempts, and only 2.5 minutes slower than my first 10 (ok, this is quite a bit slower, I realize. But it is not NEARLY as much slower as it has been in the past. So I am chalking this up as a huge win). I had one brief moment when that devil on my shoulder (or maybe it was the interurban itself) whispered, "Just walk a little bit", and actually started to slow down before telling myself (out loud) NO! DON'T DO IT! And uncharacteristically, I listened. Take that, interurban devil.
One final note about Chuckanut: it is historically an incredibly competitive race, so I am never worried about, nor sure of, where I stand in the women's field. I passed a couple women on that last stretch, and was passed by one other, but still had no concept of what place I was running in. The second woman I passed with only half a kilometer to go, and it was nice motivation for me to keep ahead of her to the finish (sorry, lady - but thanks). I somehow found a little finishing kick and crossed the line in 5h22, achieving a whopping 1 minute PB...not as fast as I was hoping for, but a time I am very proud of given the conditions. As an absolute bonus, I found out later that I had finished in 19th place (my first time cracking the top 20 here) and as the first female Masters (40+) runner. In my previous two attempts, I have won the 40-49 age group, but both times there was one woman who finished ahead of me to clinch the Masters title. I was so happy to get it this year, and to add to my collection of the world's best prizes, the beautiful mugs made by Millbrook Clayworks. The Canadian women killed it out there this year, with Kat winning, Kim coming second, and Tara finishing 11th despite only deciding to do the race the night before. We all ended up in the beer garden afterward (it really seemed like it was only Canadians in there, haha), and enjoyed our complimentary post-race pint of local craft beer and basking in the warm spring sunshine.
Will I do this race a fourth time? I still think I can run faster on the course, but for now I am happy leaving on a high note from this year's performance. Next year I will be there but as crew for Brendan, who had intended to run the race this year but unfortunately sustained a hamstring injury in training. It will be fun to experience the race from the other side instead of being in the thick of it. But 2021? It's almost certainly a date, Chuckanut.
 |
| Elevation profile of the race, from my Strava file. Cleator Rd is the climb from ~17-21k, Chinscraper is at ~33-35k. |
It's funny that back in my cross-country running days, I always felt that running hills was one of my strong suits. In the last few years, I seem to have become more of a downhill runner, and in races have tended to lose focus and motivation on climbs that I know to be runnable. I think I am afraid of pushing into a red zone of exertion and going too far past the point of no return. So this winter in training, I made sure to incorporate lots of tough but runnable climbs, and to force myself to run up them every time, instead of letting myself take short walking breaks to catch my breath and get my heart rate down. It trained both my legs and my brain to recognize that I could do this and still recover at the top and continue on the run without collapsing into a heap. In Chuckanut, I took the climbs conservatively but steadily. Cleator Rd actually felt easy - until we hit the snow, which wasn't deep but was soft and slushy enough that it was hard to maintain forward momentum. Although everyone around me (including me) had the immediate instinct to try to power hike through the snow, I quickly determined that it was oddly easier to jog with little steps on my toes than to walk, so stuck with this strategy for the rest of the road, motivating myself with the knowledge that I had the fun ridge trail at the top as a reward.
 | |
|
The last two times I ran Chuckanut, I absolutely died in the last flat 10k. It sounds like it should be relatively easy after running 30k with so much climbing and descending (and many people make the mistake of thinking this), but in my experience it has been quite the opposite: as soon as I popped out of the trail, my legs and motivation turned to lead and I slogged my way to the finish. As my friend Kim so eloquently put it, "the last 10k on the interurban is the devil and always will be". This year I was determined to do better on this section, and made it a goal to try to run the last 10k as close as possible to the time I ran in the first 10k. In training, I did a lot more running and workouts on roads than I normally do (which I actually loved!), and made it a point to finish every long run with at least a 4-5k stretch of flat road. This may have almost backfired early on, as I kept realizing during the first 10k of the race that I was happily running my tempo pace, and having to force myself to back off (!). Ultimately, though, it paid off in the end, as my last 10k was over 5 minutes faster than I have run it in past attempts, and only 2.5 minutes slower than my first 10 (ok, this is quite a bit slower, I realize. But it is not NEARLY as much slower as it has been in the past. So I am chalking this up as a huge win). I had one brief moment when that devil on my shoulder (or maybe it was the interurban itself) whispered, "Just walk a little bit", and actually started to slow down before telling myself (out loud) NO! DON'T DO IT! And uncharacteristically, I listened. Take that, interurban devil.
 |
| Kim, Kat, me, Tara in the beer garden. Pic by Tory Scholz |
 |
| The mugs seem to be getting bigger... |
Comments
Post a Comment