Build gradually—and logically—toward your goal race and enjoy the journey. by Carey Smith

“B

eep, beep, beep, beep . . . ” The amber light of the alarm clock flashed the time, 4:30 a.m., as I fumbled frantically in the dark trying to find the snooze button. “Just five more minutes, that’s all I want,” I said to myself, knowing this would be the last time I would be completely relaxed for a long while and not quite ready to let the moment go. Only a few seconds later, my watch alarm also began beeping and blinking, and I muttered under my breath, “It’s time; this is it.” I tiptoed over to the desk, trying my best not to disturb my crew, poured my cereal, and sat down to eat as the questions began flying through my head. “Am I ready? Can I do this? What will it be like? Did I train right? Enough?” By this time tomorrow, I hoped, I would know most of the answers as I would be nearing the finish of my first 100-miler, the 2007 Kettle Moraine 100-Mile Endurance Run in LaGrange, Wisconsin.

At 5:00 a.m., my dad and I left the hotel and began the drive to the start line. There wasn’t much conversation on the ride as I simply stared out the window in a zone, savoring these last precious moments of sitting comfortably in the car. This was my final exam; the thousands of miles of training, the planning, the preparation—all of it was for this day, and it was time for me to show what I had learned. We arrived at 5:30 a.m. and all of the runners were scrambling around, including me. I grabbed my necessities and headed over for the last-minute briefing, but instead of listening I nervously chatted with a few friends. “What color are the markers we’re supposed to be following?” I asked Deanna. “I don’t know, missed that too,” she responded, but before we could get the answer, Timo, the race director, started the countdown, and we were off! I guessed that we’d figure that part out soon enough; the race was under way!

Courtesy of Carey Smith

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The author is packed and ready for a road trip with Dad to the Kettle Moraine 100-Mile Endurance Run.

So how did I get there? How many thousands of miles did I run in preparation? What did I plan? How did I prepare? What’s the magic formula? Read on, and you will find these answers and more as I discuss how I trained for my first 100-miler.

The formula Training for a marathon is relatively simple; there is a formula, and anyone can go from a couch potato to a marathon finisher within six months. Get your base up to 25 miles per week, follow one of the many 18-week plans to a T, and run your race. With a bit of hard work, discipline, and dedication, you can finish a marathon. This is an extraordinary achievement, and I’m by no means minimizing the accomplishment, but training for and finishing a 100-miler is a whole different ballgame. Participants in these races are going the distance of almost four marathons in a row! It is said that you can power your way through the first 50 miles physically but that the last 50 miles are all mental. What does that even mean, and how are you supposed to train for that?

There are many opinions on how to train for your first 100-miler. Some are very scientific: “Run 75 to 80 miles per week; two runs should be at lactate threshold; your heart rate should be between 140 and 145 beats per minute for your 22-mile long run; you should eat every 45 minutes . . . ” I think you get the point. Still others are at the opposite end of the spectrum: “Run as you feel but not too much; just make sure you get in a few back-to-back long runs before the race and go in mentally prepared.” The common denominator here is the long run, not because it builds your leg muscles or makes you stronger but because it stresses your endocrine system and forces it to adapt to the demands of running 100 miles. Most runners don’t even know what the endocrine system is, but without it, none of us would be able to complete races of this distance. It is comprised of multiple

glands that regulate the body through the release of hormones; essentially, it is the thermostat and continually strives to maintain balance, controlling everything from metabolism to mood. These adaptations take many thousands of miles and years to build but, conversely, are not easily lost once they are achieved.

My approach was somewhere in between, with the foundation being the back-to-back long runs, logging 50 to 60 miles per week, and using races in the months preceding the 100-miler as long, supported training runs. Since most would agree that training for a 100-miler takes thousands of miles and sometimes years of training, it is impossible to give you a specific date where it all began. Perhaps it’s best to go back about a year before the Kettle Moraine 100-mile race to May 27, 2006, when I toed the line for my first ultra, the Berryman 50-Mile Trail Run in Missouri.

The 2006 Berryman 50-miler Shortly after finishing my first marathon in December 2005, I read the book Ultramarathon Man by Dean Karnazes and was introduced to the sport of ultrarunning. Before then I had no idea that people ran distances farther than a marathon and knew right then and there that I had to do it. I did an online search for “St. Louis Ultra Marathon,” stumbled upon the St. Louis Ultrarunners Group (the SLUGs) Web site, saw that it had a 50-mile race coming up in May, and promptly sent in my entry form and race fee. No problem, I thought. How hard could it be? It’s only two marathons—piece of cake! Needless to say, I had no idea what I was doing but did pick up a few tips online, focused on back-to-back long runs, and ran a few more road marathons.

By the time I began my taper three weeks before the race, I thought I was an old pro; after all, I had three official marathons under my belt and had been running for almost eight months. With my extensive experience and vast knowledge of the sport, I was more than ready to tackle the 50-mile distance. I stood at the start line bright eyed, bushy tailed, and ready to put another notch in my running belt, completely unaware that this would be one of the hardest days of my life.

The forecast called for unseasonably warm temperatures reaching into the 90s with high humidity. As I stood at the starting line, I thought, I can handle the heat; just stay hydrated and everything will be fine. I felt great completing the first loop in just under five hours, and as I headed out for the second, I thought, So far, so good; a finish is a sure thing! But the afternoon was a scorcher, and by about mile 32, my lower back started hurting, and my stomach was doing somersaults. I continued on as my condition worsened and reached the 45-mile aid station in about 10 hours. By this time my back hurt so badly that I could no longer wear my hydration belt, so I left it and headed on. Practically crawling, throwing up, and delirious, I needed almost two hours to cover the last five miles,

Courtesy of Carey Smith

▲ The author is a “zombie” at the finish of the 2006 Berryman 50-miler.

finally crossing the finish line in just under 12 hours. In retrospect, I believe I had a severe case of hyponatremia and was on the verge of doing serious damage to my kidneys; I had been taking electrolyte caps but wasn’t sure how many I needed, so I had taken only eight during the entire 12-hour race. As my father helped me to the car, I said, “Never again; this ultra stuff just isn’t for me. I’m sticking to marathons!” A few days passed and the pain faded, leaving only the feeling of accomplishment. I started thinking about going farther.

Will I ever recover? In the weeks following the race, I barely ran at all, logging only 108 miles in June. My body couldn’t handle the hot summer days, and after only a few miles I would be forced to walk. I didn’t feel right; I was constantly tired and queasy, had no appetite and little energy, and was emotionally depressed. Had I done permanent damage at Berryman? I now know that I had stressed my endocrine system far beyond its limits and that the only cure for my condition was time. In July I ran over 150 miles and escaped the oppressive summer heat of August by taking a vacation to Colorado, where the cooler weather enabled me to return to my preBerryman monthly mileage. Relieved that I would be OK, I began to focus on the aggressive fall marathon schedule I had planned for the months ahead.

Once September began, I knew I had my work cut out for me with a six-hour event and a marathon, two marathons in October, a marathon in November, and a trail marathon in December. I had promised myself that there would be no more ultras this year, and I rationalized that the six-hour event didn’t really count as an ultra since it was around a 1.4-mile paved loop. My approach to September was to treat the races as long, supported training runs with no taper or recovery, so I would head out the next day training my body to run on tired legs. While logging over 250 miles in the month of September, I was preparing to run my first 100-miler in early 2007 but wasn’t ready to mention it to anyone else. My focus race for the fall was the Chicago Marathon, where I set a PR of 3:24, and then I was back into training mode for the remainder of the year. In late October, after running with Dean Karnazes at the Endurance 50 in Atlanta, I decided to attempt a 100-miler in 2007.

The plan In early December, I began writing a blog about my life and running. I made weekly entries that included a bit about my training, race reports, and news in the running world. The blog served several purposes: it was a personal journal for me to review and reflect upon and also allowed me to share my love of running, my lessons learned, and my experiences with the world. In the December 5, 2006, entry I announced that I had entered the Three Days of Syllamo Stage Race, which would take place in March, and based on my performance there would then decide whether I would run the Kettle Moraine 100-Mile Run in June. I knew that by writing my intentions on the blog and telling everyone about them, I would be even more motivated to work hard and to follow through on achieving my 100-mile goal.

On December 15, I had the opportunity to join Dean Karnazes again as he was running through St. Louis on his trek across the United States from New York City to San Francisco and thought it would be the perfect opportunity to present my training plan to an ultrarunning expert and get his thoughts. I joined Dean early that Friday morning and was pleasantly surprised that he remembered me from the marathon in Atlanta; in a way, it was like seeing an old friend, as we had chatted quite a bit during our run in October. As we ran along, I told him that I was seriously thinking about running my first 100-miler in June and wanted to get his thoughts on my plan.

I told him “my focus in training has been on the back-to-back long runs on the weekend, which I plan to keep doing throughout the winter, keeping my weekly average between 50 and 60 miles. The other component will be racing to train, with my first race of the season being the Sylamore 50K in mid-February followed by Three Days of Syllamo in mid-March. This is the event that will really

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prepare me for the physical and emotional hardships of a 100-miler since it’s a stage race consisting of a 50K Friday, a 50-miler Saturday, and a 20K Sunday, all on moderately difficult trails in north-central Arkansas. If I do well at Syllamo, and I think I will, I’ll commit to Kettle and sign up. In April, I’ll run the Double Chubb 50K, followed up with the Berryman Trail Marathon in May, which will be my last long run since it’s only two weeks before Kettle.”

I could tell that Dean was mulling it over as we ran along. “That sounds like the perfect plan. I agree that the key is the stage race; if you can nail that and get through the rest of the races healthy, you’ll be more than ready to tackle 100 miles. Go for it, brother!”

I was thrilled that I had received his stamp of approval and that he agreed with my plan, figuring that if anyone knew about running long distances, he was the one. As we continued on that beautiful December day, I knew that the journey ahead of me would be long and difficult but I was also energized and excited by Dean’s encouragement. As we returned to the place where Dean began his Endurance 50 challenge, he announced that he had decided to stop his run across the country since he was back where he started. We were all a bit disappointed but agreed with his decision; I told him good-bye and wished him luck on his next adventure. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, Carey,” he said as I started off. “Yes, we will,” I responded, and with that I began my 21-mile trek back to where we had met up that morning.

A running roller coaster By the end of January, I was sick of running and angry that I “had” to do it and began to wonder why I was putting myself through all of this. I even announced on the blog in the beginning of February that I was no longer going to run Kettle. This didn’t necessarily change my approach to training, but it did relieve some of the mental pressure. I no longer had the daunting challenge hanging over my head; once again, I could run for enjoyment. Looking back, I was severely overtrained and hadn’t given myself a break. At 285 miles, January was the heaviest training month of my running career up to that point.

Running the Sylamore 50K in February sparked the fire within me. Seeing all of my friends, having a great road trip, and running a good race reminded me why I love the sport so much, and I was excited again about Three Days of Syllamo in March. I didn’t take any recovery time after the 50K and began tapering for Three Days just two weeks before the race. Since I still hadn’t decided whether I would be running Kettle in June, this race was my big event for the season, and I wanted to go in well rested and ready for three straight days of trail running.

Standing at the 50K start line on Friday for the beginning of the Three Days of Syllamo stage race, I was a bit nervous about the challenge ahead of me. About

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Courtesy of Carey Smith

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The author is focused and determined during the second day of the 2007 Three Days of Syllamo stage race.

halfway through the race, my appetite started waning and I was feeling a bit off; since the temperature was relatively low, my plan was to take one Succeed S! Cap (buffer/electrolyte capsules) per hour, which I thought

would be sufficient to keep me in balance. By mile 26 I was in really bad shape and knew I was going to be sick; I began vomiting as I was walking but knew that I could tough it out for the last few miles. As I crossed the finish

line, I searched out the race director, Steve Kirk, to see whether he could help me figure out what happened since I had to run a 50-mile race the next day. He took one look at my salt-covered body and said, “You need to take

more salt, no question about it!” Still being an ultra newbie, I thought I was taking too much salt, so once I started feeling bad, I had stopped taking the S! Caps altogether. Apparently, this was what made it worse!

I woke up the next morning feeling achy, nervous, and a bit scared about the day ahead. Fortunately I had learned a lot the day before and stuck with my plan of taking two Succeed Caps per hour, staying hydrated, and fueling properly,

finishing the 50-mile race comfortably in 10 hours, 15 minutes. In fact, when I crossed the finish line, a woman teased me, saying, “You don’t even look like you’ve done anything; perhaps you should go out again!” “No thanks,” I responded, “

glad to be done and feeling good!” The hard part was over, and the 20K run on Sunday was more of a victory celebration of successfully completing the stage race. When I returned, I wrote in my blog, “What a great weekend! My love and

passion for running has been renewed; it’s a lot better when you don’t feel like you’re going to die when you finish.”

Let’s do this thing! A few weeks after Syllamo, I was sitting in Starbucks reading the latest issue of TrailRunner magazine and came across the Kettle Moraine 100-Mile Run advertisement. When I got home, I went directly to the Web site and signed up; I

had been on the fence for a long time, but now it was official, and I was committed. As I received the e-mail confirmation, I felt mixed emotions of relief and nervousness. I would be toeing the line of my first 100-miler in less than eight weeks.

My goal during the two months before Kettle was to remain healthy and take it easy during the Double Chubb 50K and Berryman Trail Marathon. I focused on repairing my body by doing some core workouts at the gym, a few exercises for a nagging right shin splint I had been suffering from for some time, and sticking to a healthy diet. My last long run was at the Berryman Trail Marathon only two weeks before the race, and then I went into a strict taper mode to allow my body to fully repair itself before the big day. I spent the entire last week before the race preparing Excel spreadsheets with splits for my crew; printing maps and directions; making small baggies of candy, S Caps, trail mix, and chocolate-covered espresso beans; preparing my drop bags; and checking and rechecking that I had everything I needed for the race. Once the training is over, planning and preparation are the last pieces of the puzzle.

I stood at the start line of the 2007 Kettle Moraine 100-Mile Run feeling better than I had in months, muscles loose and strong and my body 100 percent healthy. I was ready, I could do this, and I had trained hard enough.

A little over 27 hours later, as I made the last turn and saw the finish line in the distance, I began crying so hard I could barely breathe. Crossing the finish line to the cheers of my family and friends, I continued on for a few moments to myself. I was flooded with emotion and tears of happiness and wanted to savor this moment. The feeling of accomplishment was unsurpassed by anything else I’ve ever experienced, and I now knew that I could achieve anything I set my mind to. Was it all worth it? Try it, and see for yourself!

Courtesy of Carey Smith

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The author with his coveted finisher’s award at Kettle 2007.

What I would do differently Train more at night For me, the night was most difficult part of the 100-miler because of the incredible physical and mental exhaustion. Once the sun went down, I ended up walking practically all of the last 38 miles. To better prepare in training, I should have done a few runs where I got up early, worked all day long, went to a yoga class or worked out at the gym after work, and then headed out on a 20-plus-mile run at midnight. This is the best way to simulate the conditions you will experience during the night at a 100-mile race. Nail my nutrition After mile 60, you are definitely not going to feel like eating, so it is important to ensure you are getting calories early on when you’re still feeling good and figure out something that will work during the latter stages of the race. In training, I rarely ate much unless my runs were longer than a marathon; therefore, by the time I started eating during the 100-miler, I was already too far behind. During the latter stages, I was very sick to my stomach and barely ate anything, which greatly contributed to my 38-mile death march. I should have practiced eating from the beginning during my training runs and experimented with foods such as Coke, gels, and soup for the end of the race, when the last thing I wanted to do was eat. Be flexible with the plan Just because you had planned to take a few minutes to relax and change your clothes, socks, and shoes at a certain point in the race, you don’t have to if it’s not necessary. At the 100K point I sat down, changed my shirts, socks, and shoes, soaked my feet, and ended up spending 20 minutes there before heading back out. As the sun went down, I never got back into the rhythm of running again.