Blues Cruise has been a staple of my ultrarunning career. I’ve come back to this race 11 times now, and it’s a great way to end my season. For me, the story hasn’t changed much—except this year. This year, I was coming back with my second coached athlete, Chris. This is his story.
I took up coaching last year because I was looking for something new within the confines of the ultra world. Those who are able to teach a subject must know it well. While I am no expert, I am a certified UESCA coach, and have completed several ultras over the past 13 years. Chris came to me intrigued by the distance, and in passing, I mentioned that he could do it if he trained for it. I actually suggested to him that this would be an amazing misogi for him to take on. The idea around the misogi is you do something so hard one time a year that it has an impact the other 364 days of the year. You put one big thing on the calendar that scares you, that has a high chance of failure, and go out and do it. This idea was introduced to me, like it was to many people, from the book “Comfort Crisis.” My firm belief was that anyone could take on and complete a 50K. I knew he was athletic to some extent—an avid tennis player who did yoga once in a while—and he was committed enough to put in the training and succeed come race day. The issue was whether I could convince him of the same thing. The furthest he had ever run in training was a 10K, which he did in high school, and he had never run any farther than that.
Training progressed slowly at first; it was about getting consistent. Most of his runs were completed on a simple 3-mile loop across from his house. A cinder path, it was easy access and comfortable enough for him to complete a few laps and come home. As training progressed, I stressed the importance of race specificity. The race terrain is rocky at times but the vast majority runnable. From the start, he had a very high heart rate for his age, but this was just an indication that aerobic fitness takes time—sometimes years. Training was going to take time before running became “comfortable.”
From there, we moved on to runs at local trails near him, like the Wissahickon and other parks near Lansdale. Trail running was a complete departure from anything he had ever done before. Trail running develops all those tiny muscles in the ankles and feet as you run on surfaces that vary in many ways. Training runs have to match the elevation and terrain type for success on race day, which I stressed knew.
We met up twice for some longer runs, and during those, I conveyed the importance of controlling the variables you have control over: pace, nutrition, and hydration. Those three things are your dials to turn when things get difficult, and sometimes it’s unclear which dial to turn. But that’s what you learn in training. When do I slow down? How many calories per hour? How much fluid should I take in? These were all things that Chris executed on race day, but are specific to him. It’s one thing to practice them in training, but when it comes to the actual event, it can be difficult to execute, or you just forget as you get caught up in the excitement of the race.
In training, we made sure that he was running efficiently. I had him film himself on a treadmill and slow it down using video tools to ensure he maintained good form and body mechanics while running: high cadence, low bounce, standing tall, forward lean, high knees, etc. A new runner will experience growing pains; things hurt if you keep showing up, but it sends a message to the body that you must adapt because the movement is important. It took time, but he slowly built fitness, and his heart rate in training continued to drop, and his form improved.
Race Day
I spoke with him after the event and one issue he had were his knees started bothering him after mile 20. He was feeling slight pain, but he pushed through it. He kept running and realized, “Wait, maybe this isn’t an issue.” He said to himself, “What other tricks will my body throw at me to stop?” In a post-race discussion, this showed me he understood the idea that ultras are a mental game. Yes, there’s a lot of physical effort, but at their core, ultras are a deep conversation with yourself and your perceived limits. Limits that were put there BY YOU. Once you shatter those limits, you start to have conversations about potential and where you might go versus where you think you are stuck.
He talked about time dilation in the race, and this is common for most once the pain really kicks in. Minutes seem like hours. The last 20% of an ultra feels just as long as the other 80%. Explaining that to someone can be hard, but when your body is in a constant state of trying to send you a message that you are just NOT listening to, it’s another way it rebels. You will hear people discuss the “flow” state that you need to try to achieve in running, but for those with underdeveloped aerobic systems, the flow state of an ultra doesn’t last as long when new to the sport. Intense pain tends to make staying in that flow state difficult, as its demand for constant attention never seems to waver.
One thing I stressed with Chris was mindset, but it’s the hardest thing to train. While on runs with him, we discussed practices similar to meditation, where you bring focus back to the present moment instead of letting it travel ahead or narrowly focusing on just the finish. Focus on the breath, focus on your stride, focus on getting to the next landmark that’s close, or focus on getting to the next aid station. That was the main focus for Chris: to break the race into smaller, manageable chunks. You can’t focus on just the finish line or when the end is going to get here. If you do, there is a negative downward spiral of hope. Our minds are geared for little wins, constantly knowing that these mini battles will lead to a greater victory in the war. It’s almost like a way of affirming yourself constantly; with each win you get in the confines of a race, the end goal seems more attainable.
Your bar is raised by constant daily actions toward a goal you feel you can attain. His path looks nothing like mine, and Chris’s path will look nothing like yours. We each have a unique experience that brings us to the ultra distance. What’s great is to see someone else get their first win, their first victory. He completed his first half marathon in training, then his first marathon, then ultramarathon on race day. Not many people can say that, or take that much risk, but Chris did.
My final advice for Chris was about Post-Race Depression
It’s normal that once a massive goal is completed, you lose focus. The reason for training becomes vague. What am I fighting for? Why do I need to get back in the gym? It’s normal; a massive goal has been completed, and now our minds want to shift focus toward the next big goal. For him, I recommended two paths going forward: 1) Jump right into a March 50K if he is over the pain of the first experience and wants to keep going, or 2) a trail marathon in April. These were two different choices for keeping forward momentum. It’s a lot harder to get a fire going than it is to keep it burning. So setting your target on that next race keeps the post-race depression at bay. Finally, I leave you with a favorite quote related to ultras that you will need to remind yourself of daily:
“Learn to love slow progress. Learn to forgive yourself for the inevitable backsliding. And of course, expect to be uncomfortable along the way.”
If you’re interested in coaching – check out my website at UltraRunCoach.com!
Here was my first blog post on Blues Cruise back when the stream crossing wasn’t optional!