Review: The Maurten Bicarb System

It has been known for years that consuming sodium bicarbonate (aka baking soda) can enhance performance during endurance activities. It works by removing and neutralizing hydrogen ions produced by the muscles during intense exercise, forestalling acidosis. However, there's a catch: Consuming straight baking soda followed by intense exercise causes stomach upset and vomiting in most people who try it. Now Maurten claims to have a product that solves that problem, by encapsulating the bicarb and releasing it slowly in the intestines, allowing you to get the benefits of bicarb without the gastric distress. I've seen a couple of pro athletes trying it out on their YouTube channels, so I thought I'd give it a try myself.

It's not cheap -- they only sell it in four-packs for $70. That's nearly $20 per use! But hey, if it gets you that PR you've been seeking then maybe it's worth it, right? So I ordered some via their website (you must customize your dose based on your weight and experience with the product). Then I tried it out on two separate runs -- a 5k time trial on local roads, and a 5k race in Spokane, WA. Here's what happened.

The Time Trial
Maurten says you should eat a meal 30 minutes to an hour before consuming the Bicarb System, which should in turn be consumed 90 minutes to 2 hours before the race / workout. Since it's starting to get warm here in Davidson, I wanted to do my run in the cool morning hours, starting my warm up at 5:45 am. That meant setting an alarm for 3:45 to consume some food, then 4:15 to consume the Bicarb System. I didn't eat a whole meal, just a 90-calorie granola bar. Then at 4:15 I got up and mixed up the Bicarb System. They give you a plastic bowl to mix up a hydrogel suspension. This seemed to me to be similar to Maurten's energy gels (but without the carbs), but Maurten says it is a different product. Then after a few minutes you mix in the bicarb capsules, which are hundreds of tiny pills. You have to eat them (and the hydrogel suspension) without chewing. If you're traveling, make sure to pack a spoon for this! Here's a photo of me eating them during my second test in Spokane: 

They taste about as good as they look

You don't exactly have to choke them down but it is definitely is a bit of a test of your desire to get a PR! I had a hard time getting back to sleep after consuming the bicarb capsules, so I wasn't sure how well my time trial would go. 

I would find out soon enough -- my final alarm awoke me at my usual 5:15 wakeup time and I hopped out of bed and rode my bike in to town for the workout. At 5:45 I was ready to start my 2-mile warmup. My stomach was definitely a little unsettled, even after sipping some water as I jogged along. I had to burp a couple times to relieve the gas pressure building up in my stomach, and I could definitely taste the bicarbonate making its way partly up my throat.

After my warm up, I lined up and started the time trial. I could tell almost instantly that it wasn't going to be a great run. I'm not sure if it just wasn't my day, if the sleep disruptions had negatively affected me, or if the bicarb simply wasn't agreeing with me. After 2 minutes I backed off the pace and decided to treat this run like a workout rather than a time trial. I ran 2 minutes hard / 1 minute jog until I finished the 3.1-mile course. I have to say that I did start to feel a little bit better toward the end of the workout, but it still wasn't a great workout. So maybe bicarb doesn't work well for me, or maybe it just wasn't a good day for me. On to test 2.

Test 2: The Windermere 5k in Spokane, WA
Two weeks later, I was in Spokane visiting family and decided to sign up for a race and give the Maurten Bicarb System another try. The race started at 8:15 am, so I was able to get up at 6:00 am, eat some food, and try the system again without disrupting my usual morning routine. I prepared the system just as I had before, then just stayed awake reading the day's news and doing the crossword puzzle before it was time to start my warm-up. I headed out at 7:45, jogging 2 miles to the race start for my warm up, with a couple bicarb burps along the way. 

I lined up for the race and zipped out at my planned 6:30 pace, which if I was able to sustain that, would give me an age-group PR. Fortunately there was another guy running that pace, so I could just stay on his heels for the first mile. At about that point I was really starting to suffer. The race was an out and back, so I told myself to just hang on until the turnaround, and then I could maybe rally as I was heading home. Unfortunately shortly after the turnaround, I lost contact with the runner ahead of me. My pace was slowing. My Mile 2 was a 6:46, and it was looking like Mile 3 was going to be worse. I struggled to maintain even a 7:00 pace for this mile, then limped in to the finish, a full minute slower than my goal time.

The Verdict
I don't think the Maurten Bicarb System helped me at all. Perhaps I just was having off days, but I also think the "ickiness" of the product just doesn't put me in a good mindset for racing. It also definitely put my stomach in an uncomfortable, gassy state before each hard effort. Compared to another recent innovation, the carbon-plated super shoe, I'd say it is a real dud. When I put on a shoe like the Hoka Rocket X (my current choice) or a Nike VaporFly, I immediately feel a significant boost compared to a daily trainer. The Maurten Bicarb System never gave me a sensation that even approximated that feeling. But products like these affect each of us in different ways -- the pro runners I saw using them on YouTube both had good performances after using the system. So if you are serious about getting a PR and seem to be stuck just below your goal, it might be worth it to you to spend $70 to test it out for yourself. Good luck!

Chasing a "PR" in the 5k

5k has always been my best race distance. I've put out some decent half marathons and 10ks, and even eked out a Boston-qualifying marathon, but if you check the age-graded scores of my PRs, my 5k best is in another league from all of those.

That said, I like to run a variety of distances, and last year, I ran my longest race ever, the 55-mile Comrades Marathon. When I was done with that, I was ready to go back to my bread-and-butter race, the 5k. At age 57, I don't think I'm ever going to match my 17:49 5k PR I set in 2013. But a sub-20-minute 5k does seem like it might be attainable. The last time I ran sub-20 was in 2016 at age 49. For various reasons, I haven't done it in my 50s.

So back in August I ran the Greek Fest 5k just to see where I was after spending a year training for Ultras. My time was humbling: 22:14. I had a long way to go to get back to sub-20. A couple months later in October I ran the Runway 5k in 21:03. Not bad, but still not quite what I was looking for. I bought a pair of "supershoes" (Hoka Rocket X2) and doubled down on training. I managed a 20:45 at the Little Sugar Creek Parkrun. Maybe I'm too old for sub-20 5ks any more? Looking back at the races I had completed since my last sub-20, I saw that the best I'd done was 20:18 at the Sprint into Spring race in 2019. Maybe sub-20:18 was a better goal?

I ran Spring into Spring again this year but it was brutally windy and I could only manage a 21:21.

So yesterday I gave it another shot at the Little Sugar Creek Parkrun. Going into the race, I was thinking I should maybe just shoot for a 20:30, to beat my best time since Comrades. But as I began to run through my race plan I decided that it would a mistake to start out too slow. If I ran 6:35 miles (20:30 5k pace) it would be tough to do much better than that 20:30 even if I was feeling good for the last mile. Plus I hardly ever pull off a negative split in a 5k. I decided to push it just a bit more, targeting a 6:30 pace. If I felt good, I could pick it up, and even if I slowed a bit at the end, I would still beat my season's best. If I had a really great day I could possibly challenge my 20:18 "Grandmaster PR" -- my best time since I turned 50.

The weather was perfect as we lined up for the race -- high 40s, no wind. The course is dead flat, and the distance has been carefully verified, so I know it's an accurate course as well. Looking at the other runners, I saw there might be one or two of us prepared to go 20-minute or better pace. The race started, and two runners took off ahead of me -- an Irish woman and a 40ish man. The Irish woman looked to be targeting a much faster pace, maybe even a sub-19, so I settled in behind 40ish man. 

After a quarter-mile or so, I looked at my watch and saw I was running about a 6:27 pace. A little faster than planned, but comfortable, so I held steady. 40ish Man was checking his watch too, and he too held steady. Maybe he was shooting for 20 minutes? That would be a 6:26 pace. If that was the case and he was a solid runner, I might be able to ride behind him to that elusive sub-20 as well.

I checked my watch every quarter-mile or so, and I was holding that 6:27ish pace, and still not feeling bad. Keep it up, Munger! I passed through Mile 1 in exactly 6:27. Not bad! But soon after this, 40ish Man started to slow just a bit. My watch was reading 6:30 pace, and I was gaining ground. I slipped by him and tried to get back to that 6:27ish pace that had been comfortable so far.

The course for this race is an out-and-back, with a sharp turn onto a bridge at Mile 1.5. You cross the bridge, turn around, and make the sharp turn again onto the main greenway, then head home. Irish Woman crossed the bridge ahead of me, made the turnaround, and I passed her as she was crossing back over the bridge. I made the turnaround, then headed back home, the other runners shouting encouragement as I passed them. Looking down at my watch I saw I was still holding a 6:29 pace. Not bad, but now it wasn't feeling quite so easy. Somehow I maintained that pace through 2 miles, so my total time was 12:56. Seven minutes and change to go. 

I knew based on how tired I was already, there was no way I was going to speed up at this point, so a sub-20 was not happening. But I could slow quite a bit and still get that sub-20:30. Or maybe, just maybe I could squeak out an over-age-50 PR by running better than a 20:18. I was too exhausted to compute the exact pace I needed to run to hit these marks, but I knew I needed to keep it under 7:00 per mile. I looked down and saw a 6:45 pace. Come on Munger, you can do better than that! I picked it up again. My pace slowly lurched down into the low 6:40s. There were no mile markers for our race, but I knew when I passed the fixed 1 mile marker on the greenway, there was 1/2 mile left in the race. 6:42 pace. DON'T SLOW DOWN. I passed the 1.25-mile marker. 1/4 mile left! There was one more turn on the course, at about the end of Mile 3 of our race. I gasped for breath as I rounded the final corner. My watch clicked, but I didn't look down to get my time. The finish was in sight! I gave it everything I had and crossed the line. I stopped my watch and collected my finish token. My watch read 20:17! I had done it -- not just an age group PR, but a PR for my last two age groups, the best I had run since 2016!

After the race, I dove a bit more into the details. I ran a 6:40 Mile 3. My overall average pace was 6:32. I actually ran slowest for the final 10th of a mile, a 6:50 pace, which means I really had given everything I had. Here's a link to the Strava record of my race. 

All this has made me curious about my lifetime 5k progression (which really only starts in 2010 when I began running seriously). I made a spreadsheet tracking all my 5ks for that period, and removed any that were part of duathlons / triathlons, as well as any where the distance was off or there was a net downhill. This subset of "legit" 5ks is 40 races over 14 years. Here's a graph of my results:

I really only had a few years where I was regularly getting under 20 minutes for the 5k. You can see a couple spots where I got close over the last 7 years, but I still haven't done it since the Runway 5k in 2016. I think I might try one or two more times this year, maybe with a pacer to help me at the end of the race. But we're heading into spring in the South, where the weather tends to be too warm for me to run fast. Yesterday's race could very possibly be the fastest I run for the rest of my life. Or maybe I'll do even better sometime next year, or the year after that. That's one thing I love about running -- it's not 100 percent predictable. I know at some point my age will catch up with me, and a 20-minute 5k will truly be out of reach. But I won't know when that is until I get there.

Race Recap: The Runway 5k, or "Did I Earn the Shoes?"

This season I've taken on a project -- get a new grandmaster PR in the 5k. My lifetime best in the 5k is 17:49, set in 2013 when I was 46 years old. Injuries and life caught up with me after that, and since I turned 50, I haven't even broken 20 minutes in a 5k (not for lack of trying). My PR since I turned 50 and became a "grandmaster" is 20:20. I've lost quite a bit of speed since then by dabbling in ultras, so it's going to take quite a bit of work to get to that level. I ran a 5k in August and could only manage a 22:13. Since then I've dedicated more serious training to the 5k distance, so I decided to sign up for the Runway 5k in Charlotte on October 21.

As my speed and stamina improved, I naturally started looking to boost my chances by shopping for shoes online. But at $250+ for the latest and greatest technology, was it really worth it? And for what, maybe 3 or 4 seconds per mile improvement? I finally decided to postpone new shoes until I could legitimately run sub-21 again in a race.

As the race date approached, my training suggested a sub-21 5k was in reach. All that was needed was a 6:45 per mile pace, and I was feeling quite comfortable running that pace on the track, albeit over much shorter distances. 

Fast-forward to race day. Getting to the start line was a bit of an ordeal, as there was a big lineup of cars outside the parking area. Then we had to get on a shuttle bus to ride to the start. With hundreds of runners still stuck in traffic, it seemed unlikely that the race would start on time. But surprisingly, the PA announcer came on 15 minutes before the scheduled start and said they would indeed be starting on time. I quickly got in my warmup mile, ran a few strides, and headed to the starting area.

Warming up. Did I mention this race was on a runway?

Soon we were off and racing. I started off a little fast, but quickly settled in right around my target of 6:45 per mile. There were a good number of runners around me, and another group about 50 yards ahead. The first quarter-mile was a gradual uphill, and by the end I was laboring a bit. Fortunately it leveled off at that point and I could run fairly comfortably at target pace. My watch clicked through on Mile 1 at 6:44.

Now I was starting to gain on a couple runners from the group ahead of us. Unconsciously I picked up the pace, and after a half mile or so I noticed I was running closer to 6:36 pace. I reminded myself to run my race and slowed just a bit. I clicked through Mile 2 at 6:39.

I just needed to hang on for one more mile. We had turned back towards the starting area but it was still nowhere in sight. I tried to spot that giant airplane I had run past during warmups at the Mile 3 marker, but I could only see an endless line of runners ahead of me on the tarmac. My pace slowed ... 6:44, 6:45, 6:47. Hang on, Munger! I was laboring with every breath. Finally we turned off this runway and I could see the giant plane in the distance... at the top of a long hill. It was a gradual hill, to be sure, perhaps just a 2 percent grade, but now it felt like a 10% slog. I passed a runner who told me my loud breathing had been motivating him to keep running. Funny, it was motiving me to slow down. Slowly, slowly, I got closer to the plane, and the finish line beyond it. Finally my watch beeped Mile 3 just as I passed the marker. Just a tenth of a mile to go, Munger!

I gave it everything I had. I watched the clock click 20:44, 45, 46... it seemed too far away to reach. It clicked 21:00 when I was still 20 yards away. I finally crossed the line and stopped my watch -- 21:03 by my measure. Not quite fast enough for shoes, but still a decent improvement on my 22:13 two months ago.

Then I looked up my official results and I actually got credit for a 21:01... even closer, but no shoes!

Me, Tara (who took the photos), and Mike after the race

I posted the results -- and the shoe disappointment -- to Strava, and the verdict of the commenters on my effort was that I should still treat myself to the shoes. As one commenter noted, the actual mileage on my Strava was 3.12, so the course was technically a bit long. If the course had been exactly 5 kilometers, would I have made it? Well, 5k is actually 3.107 miles, so assuming my watch was exactly correct on the distance, the course was just 0.013 miles too long. Does that make up for my 1-second shortfall?

If you do the math, at my average pace of 6:45 / mile, I travel 0.013 miles in 5 seconds, putting me well below 21 minutes for a precise 5k distance. So if we disregard the inherent error in a Garmin's data, I clearly earned myself a new pair of shoes. And if it gets me a new pair of supershoes, I'm certainly willing to ignore an error in my favor! Time to go shopping!

Click here for the Strava record of my race

Race recap: Comrades Marathon

The Comrades Marathon has one of the most storied histories in all of running. The race is so old that its distance, which varies a bit from year to year, is more than double the modern marathon distance of 26.2 miles. Comrades started in South Africa in 1921, and up to then there had been no official marathon distance. It was typically a long run of around 25 miles, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t call your much-longer run a marathon too. The distance of the race was simply the distance from Pietermaritzburg to Durban, around 90k. Despite the standardizing of the term “Marathon”, Comrades stuck with tradition and calls itself a marathon to this day. 

I chose the race because for some reason I really wanted to run my age in miles. At age 56, that meant I needed to find a really long race, and Comrades was about that length, and has a wonderful history and tradition to boot. As it turned out, the official length of the course this year was only 87.7k, or 54.5 miles. But I only learned that fact a few weeks before the race. Flights and hotels were booked, so this would have to do!

A few weeks later I was at the race expo collecting my swag and race bib, and Greta got this photo of me next to the Comrades logo. 

With apologies to Princess Leia, I look a little chubby for an ultra runner, but I had definitely put in the miles of training, and I was pretty sure I could finish the race under the 12-hour cutoff. 

The next day, the day before the race, I decided to do a little shakeout on the promenade in Durban. Turns out thousands of fellow runners had the same idea, and it was like a huge party out there, with teams running in their official gear, singing as they ran. I took a short video to try to capture the feeling. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced!

I wanted to explore this amazing place, to try exotic foods, but I knew that walking around too much before a long race was not a good idea, so I chilled at the hotel and found a pasta place for race-day dinner. 

Finally, after a fitful (and short) sleep, I got up at 1:30 am to get ready for the race. I grabbed a quick breakfast, then walked from my hotel to the Durban Exposition Center, where buses would transport us to the race start. I recorded the 1-mile walk to the bus stop in case I would need to count it as part of my 56-mile day. 

There was a long, but orderly line for the buses, and soon we were on our way to Pietermaritzburg for the start of the race. We arrived at 4:15, in plenty of time for the 5:30 race start. 

At Comrades, the cutoff times are enforced from the starting gun, not the time you cross the start line. With 20,000 runners, folks at the back of the pack may take 10 minutes to cross the line, so naturally everyone wanted to get to their starting spot as quickly as possible. 

Unfortunately a critical sign was missing directing folks to the “F” corral, where I (and several thousand others) had qualified to start. We ended up in a log jam, with a big fence blocking our entry. Frustrated runners asked race officials to let us in, but we were told to wait, while others from corrals lower on the list (whose direction signs weren’t missing), were clearly getting in ahead of us. Eventually someone just pushed the temporary 8-foot-tall fence down, and we all poured into the starting area.

 

Fortunately, once everyone was in the starting area, we all settled down and awaited the start, now only 20 minutes away. At this point, the runners started breaking into song! I’ve been in dozens of races, and this is definitely the first time that’s ever happened. Here’s a little video clip of the moment. 

Finally, after more songs, the national anthem, and a bungled attempt by the DJ to get everyone energized for the race, the starting gun went off at exactly 5:30. And we slowly made our way to the start. After 8 excruciating minutes, we finally crossed the line, and the race began for real. 

My plan for the first 20 miles was to limit my pace and make sure I didn’t try to run too fast. I was hoping to finish in under 11 hours, which requires an 11:45 per mile pace. I knew I could easily achieve that pace, even if I tossed in a few minutes of walking per mile. As it turned out, going slow enough over the first few miles wasn’t really a problem. The course was so crowded that you had little choice but to run the same pace as the people around you. Then there was a massive bottleneck in Mile 3 where the course narrowed from 4 traffic lanes to 2. My pace for Mile 3 ended up at 14:44. Combine that with the crowding during Mile 1, and my average pace for the first 3 miles was 14:30! Finally things started to open up a bit, and I refocused on keeping a steady, comfortable pace. This photo should give you a sense of just how crowded it was during those early miles. 

That said, we were being treated to some beautiful countryside at dawn, with a crowd of like-minded people who all just loved running. Things could be worse!

Comrades Marathon traditionally changes direction every year, alternating starting in Durban on the coast, or Pietermaritzburg in the mountains. When you start in Pietermaritzburg, it’s called a “down year” because the run is mostly downhill. So this was a down year, but if you take a look at the elevation profile, you’ll see that’s only half true: there is a whole lot of climbing too—adding up to over 3,800 feet!

The downhill doesn’t really begin in earnest until you are more than halfway through the race. The accepted wisdom for Comrades in a down year is to not wear yourself out in the first part of the race; you will then be able to recover time in the second half. But I knew from my training that I would slow in the second half no matter what, and my legs would be trashed by then no matter what. I had to build a bit of a cushion at the start or I would be in jeopardy of not finishing. I wanted to at least be running that 11:45 pace, which would give me an hour of cushioning that I would almost certainly need!

As I tried to pick up my pace a bit over the next few miles, a man passed me and told me my race number was falling off my hydration pack. At Comrades you are required to have a race number front and back, so I stopped to remove my pack and fix the problem.

 

I was able to fix the number and awkwardly re-seat the pack on my back, but it had cost me a precious minute of race time. I hastened to get back to running. After a few minutes I noticed something seemed wrong about my pack. I patted the side where my fuel gels should be and it was empty! They must have fallen out while I was adjusting my race number! I had lost at least 5 of the 20 gels I would need for the rest of the race. I had already adapted my fueling plan for the race because it wasn’t easy to get the water out of the floppy race-provided sachets into my flexible water bottles. I ditched my plan of mixing my own Tailwind during the race and would be relying on the official energy drink for the race, “Energade,” which I had only tried for the first time the night before. Now I would need to rely on Energade even more. I decided to load up early on Energade and save my remaining gels for later. 

At least now it wasn’t quite so crowded and I was able to run steadily without worrying too much about the other runners. I clicked off several miles in the 11-minute pace range and caught up to the 11-hour “bus,” which is what they call the pace teams at Comrades. I’m not usually one to stick with a pace group, but I figured that with all the hills in this race, it would probably be easier just to stick with a group than to try to plot my own plan. So I just got on the bus with these guys and ran.

 

For the next 15 miles or so I was comfortably on the 11-hour bus. It was a little more crowded on a bus because perhaps 200 people were sticking with one pacer, but it meant I didn’t have to think and could just stay with a group. We walked a lot on the uphills and ran more on the downhills than I was comfortable with, but I didn’t have much trouble keeping up with this group. The only time it was a problem was at aid stations, when it was difficult to get what you wanted with 200 others grabbing for it at the same time. This little video gives you a sense of what it was like near aid stations with the 11-hour bus (I’m having trouble adding videos from my phone so you’ll have to follow this link to watch)

Otherwise things were going well. We were in a beautiful, hilly region, and it was quite a sight to see the seemingly infinite train of runners ahead and behind us:

I was through mile 25 and still feeling pretty good. But I was also beginning to wonder when our long descent out of the mountains would begin. I kicked myself for not doing a better job memorizing the course beforehand. We would crest a hilltop, then make a long descent. I would think surely we were done with the biggest hills, and then we’d start up another one. 

At some point in this section, I lost contact with the 11:00 bus and was again running on my own. It was nice to be out of the crowd for a bit but I was also bargaining with myself over when to take walk breaks, when to push a little harder. 

I was definitely slowing down, though, running more miles in the 12s and 13s and fewer in the 10s and 11s. But I did finally make it to the serious descent. When I did, I wished I hadn’t. 

Now, around Mile 33, pain shot through my legs with every step. I was supposed to be running faster on these downhills, but I just couldn’t, and my pace was stubbornly in the 13s. 

I slowed even more for the climbs, which became bigger and more frequent around Mile 43. 

I spent my time going over and over the paces I would need to finish. I had no shot at sub-11 hours, but what would I need to finish in 11:30? How much could I slow down and still be assured of finishing before the absolute 12-hour deadline?

At Mile 48 the 11:30 bus caught up with me. Could I stick with them for the next 6+ miles? I decided to give it a shot. Once again I got into the rhythm of the group and was able to pick up my pace. I made a video of them chanting, over 50 miles into the race. It definitely helped to be running with a group again. 

But after just a few miles, I could no longer keep up, the pain of running downhill was too great and I had to walk. I was walking everywhere now, up and down, barely running at all. But there were just a few miles left. I was walking at a 15-16 minute pace, and by all my calculations it looked like I would make it with several minutes to spare. 

With just 2 miles left, I was passed by the 12-hour bus. If they were accurately pacing, I had to stay with them or get eliminated from the results. Fortunately another runner confirmed that there were several 12-hour buses, and this was just the first one, well ahead of schedule. I decided to try to run again and was surprised to find that I could. We were well within the city of Durban now and the hills weren’t quite so steep. With a mile to go I actually passed the bus and continued ahead on my own. 

I knew Greta was waiting at the finish stadium and I didn’t want to be in a big crowd as I finished. I timed it just right and ran into the stadium with a solid 10 meters of empty turf ahead of me. It was almost as if I was running alone. There were thousands of fans screaming for me and the other runners. I made my way around the stadium. I ran around the final corner and saw the finish line. I raised my arms in triumph. There might have even been a fist pump in there.  I saw the clock click to 11:46:00 just before I crossed the line. I had done it! And Greta did see me, snapping this photo as I headed toward the line! 

According to my watch, the total distance of the run was 55.29 miles. Added to the 1.03 from my walk to the stadium, that puts me comfortably over 56 miles at age 56. 

I wish I could tell you more about how amazing and how difficult this run was for me. Maybe I will find the words someday. But I would say that if you are at all inclined to run Comrades, and you have the means to do it, then you should. It’s like no other race I’ve experienced.

There’s lots more I could say about this race, but I’m exhausted, so I’m going to leave you with this Strava record. Thanks for reading!

Brief Race Recap: Ellerbe Marathon

My main focus this spring is training for the Comrades Marathon, a race with a storied history that began before anyone had settled on the distance for a "Marathon." The Comrades course distance, at 89+ kilometers, didn't prove popular enough to become a standard, but the name stuck. I'm registered for the 2023 edition on June 11, and I started my training regimen for it last December.

When you are training for a race this long (this year's edition should be close to 56 miles), a run-of-the-mill 26.2-mile marathon is a training run. So when my friend Chas invited me to join him at the race, I figured it would make a good mid-cycle training run, and hopped on board. I've done the Ellerbe Half Marathon but never the full, so it would make a nice notch on the belt as well.

Comrades requires a marathon or longer as a qualifier. This time is also used to set your starting corral for the race. I had already qualified at New York, but my time of 4:34:50 put me in corral 7 out of 8, and with over 15,000 runners in the race, it would take a long time for me to even cross the start line. With a hard 12-hour cutoff based on the race start gun, I would need every advantage I could get to be awarded a coveted finishers medal. So I set my "A" goal at Ellerbe to be sub-4 hours, which would move me up to Corral 4. The "B" goal was sub-4:15, which would still place me in Corral 5, and that would be a heck of a lot better than Corral 7!

I haven't been specifically training for a marathon, Ellerbe is very hilly, and I didn't taper for this race, so I really had no idea of what I was capable of, but 4 hours seemed possible -- that works out to a 9:09 pace per mile, and most of my training has been at that pace or faster. My longest run, however, was a 19-miler at a 9:23 pace, both shorter and slower than if I had been doing focused training for a 4-hour marathon.

Ellerbe is a small, friendly race in a small, friendly town in central North Carolina. There were about 70 runners each in the marathon and the half marathon, which started an hour later. The course has lots of hills, and the marathoners must run it twice. It's a "lollipop" course with a 2.5-mile "stick" you run at the start and the end, and an 8-mile "candy" loop in the middle. The stick part is nice because you end up seeing both marathoners and half-marathoners coming and going. The loop is where most of the hills are. 

The course

The race starts in the middle of the road out of town. You run behind a police car for the first couple miles, and then you're own your own in the countryside. My plan was to run comfortably around a 9-minute pace on the flats, pick it up a bit on the downs, and put in an equal effort on the climbs. The first several miles trend downward, so I was around an 8:40 pace and felt very comfortable. Peter Asciutto (of "Idiot Run" fame) was out of the course and got this photo of me and another runner a couple miles from the start:

After a while I chatted a bit with the runner in blue, and he was also shooting for a sub-4. But when the serious hills started a couple miles later, he pulled ahead of me as I didn't want to overdo it on the climbs. 

I noted that the really big hill finished up around Mile 7, which would be Mile 20 on the second loop of the course. If I could stay on pace through that point, I would have a shot at my sub-4 race.

Throughout the race, there were  friendly volunteers. Though the course wasn't closed, there was very little traffic, and what cars we did see were extremely courteous. The whole town seems to come together for this event.

Another Peter Asciutto photo -- I think around Mile 11

The course flattens out near the end of the loop, with just a couple gradual uphills heading into town. But at this point I started to notice that my watch wasn't quite agreeing with the mileage markings painted on the road. My watch ticked off the miles a few hundred yards before each marker, and the difference seemed to increase with each mile. Despite this, I made it to the turnaround at 1:58 -- two minutes to spare on my quest for sub-4.

This time around, however, the 8:40 paces didn't come quite so easily on the flats, and my uphills were in the 9:30s and 9:40s. I did some figuring in my head around Mile 18, and it looked like I'd need to average about a 9:20 pace for the rest of the race to finish under 4 hours. I made it up the big hill before Mile 20, but even after this point, the course was hillier than I remembered. I was keeping my pace in that range or faster when I was running, but I needed to stop for water at the aid stations, and that slowed me down quite a bit. I ran Miles 21-23 at 9:35, 9:20, and 9:32 pace. And my watch was getting farther and farther behind the mile markers.

When my watch clicked through at 24 miles, my elapsed time was 3:37. If my watch had been accurate, I would have had almost 23 minutes to run the last 2.2 miles -- a comfortable 10:18 pace. By the time I got to the actual 24-mile mark, I only had 18 minutes left. This would have necessitated an 8:11 pace, and I was in no condition to run that fast. Realizing that sub-4 was impossible, I let myself slow down. I ran Mile 25 in 9:58 and 26 in 11:26. I crossed the line at 4:05:28, with my watch reading 26.63 miles. It doesn't seem like much, but that extra 0.4 miles meant there was no chance of me reaching my goal.

Chas (who had finished first overall with an impressive 3:10:13) took a photo after I crossed the line that pretty much sums up how I felt at the time:

 

Happy to be done, but also kind of annoyed

But now, thinking back on the race, there really isn't anything I would do differently. I'm not training for this race, I'm training for Comrades. This is my fitness level right now, and it's where I need to be. I was able to run 6 miles the day after the race (something I would never even attempt if this was a normal marathon) as required by my training plan. I'll continue to put in more miles, and there will be weekends down the line where I run 38, 40 miles — much more than this weekend's 32. If all goes well, I should be able to finish Comrades in June, and go farther than I've ever gone in a day before. If I finish it (or if I don't), I'll write about it here... and then move on to the next challenge! Stay tuned!

Click here for my Strava record of the race

Brief Race Recap: The South Mountains Half Marathon

After my difficult DNF at the Val D'Aran 55k, I pretty much decided to give up on trail racing. If I couldn't complete that race, there was no way that my ultimate goal of finishing the UTMB CCC 100k was going to be possible, even assuming I could qualify for the race in the first place.

But if there is one thing I've learned over the past 12 years of running, it's that I shouldn't ever say "never." So in a move that surprised no one, I signed up for another trail race -- the South Mountains Half. In my defense, it's "only" a half marathon -- albeit one with over 2,700 feet of climbing and some tricky trails. Add in a cold drizzle on race morning and all of a sudden it's not exactly an easy race. Here's the elevation profile.

As you can see, the race is basically two big climbs and two big descents. Other than a big staircase in Mile 7, it's all quite runnable. I didn't have a specific plan for the race other than "don't die," but after starting off the race and heading up the first big hill, it seemed like a pace of 5 miles per hour, 12 minutes per mile, might be sustainable, so that's what I tried to do.

Using a run / walk strategy, I made my way up the hill that spanned miles 1-4 in 48 minutes, pretty much right on target. I passed quite a few runners on the way up the hill, but then the route turned onto a long, downhill singletrack trail. Downhill is definitely my weakness on trails, so I focused on looking a few steps ahead and trying to maintain a steady clip even over obstacles. But the trail was wet and covered with slippery leaves, and I didn't want to injure myself for what still would be my primary focus this season, long road races. Inevitably I started to hear footsteps behind me, and I let two runners pass. A few minutes later, I was letting some more runners pass. Another runner was behind me, but I didn't think he was gaining much ground. But after a couple minutes of him right on my tail, I let him pass as well. "You'll probably pass me back on the next climb," he said. As he tore off ahead of me, I wasn't so sure of that. I managed to make my way down the 2-mile descent at around an 11:30 pace, so I was still on target for a sub-12 pace for the race. Here there was an aid station, and I refilled my water bottle and grabbed a fun-sized Snickers for the road.

Next was the climb up High Shoals Falls, 600 steep steps. I knew there was no way I would be doing this at a 12-minute pace, so I just tried to climb quickly and steadily. I finally arrived at the top on a runnable trail, and resumed a similar pace. Mile 7 had 520 feet of climbing and I finished it in 17:30. The next couple miles were also mostly uphill, but still very runnable. I tried to give myself reasonable mini targets, like "just run for 3 minutes," then let myself walk a bit to recover. I picked off several runners, including the guy who had passed me on the big descent, who gave me an "I told you." I said I was sure he would pass me on the upcoming downhill. I got through Mile 8 in 13:57 and Mile 9 in 11:38. 

Then I turned onto the Shinny Trail, a steep, singletrack descent for the next 2.5 miles. The first bit of it wasn't too bad and I managed a 12:48 pace. But then the trail got steeper and more technical. Once again several runners passed me, including the guy I'd been trading spots with for the entire race. "I told you so," I said. 

"You'll get me on the next climb," he replied. Unfortunately there were no climbs left in the race, so I didn't see him again until the finish. My pace for Mile 11 was a slothlike 14:48 while descending 380 feet. 

At the bottom of the Shinny trail, you cross Shinny Creek several times. Because I was going so slow, I was starting to get cold, and now my feet were getting wet. I knew the trail would soon be getting easier, but I wondered if I could take advantage of the easy trail with cold feet and legs. Fortunately, my legs did respond, and I was able to run a respectable 11:27 for Mile 12. Now I was on the easy tourist path with just a quarter mile to run, and I picked it up even more, finishing at an 8:44 clip. I crossed the line, high-fived Brandon the race director, and headed to the hut in the parking lot, where they were serving delicious hot chili. My friends had already finished, much faster than me, but I was happy with my efforts and the fact that I didn't die! 

Overall my time was 2:39:08, which works out to a 13:03 pace by my watch. But watches are notoriously inaccurate on trails. While my watch logged 12.19 miles, the official course length is 13.3 miles. Assuming that's accurate, my actual pace works out to 11:58, which means I beat my goal pace. I'll take it!

Click here for my Strava record of the race

Race recap: The New York Marathon

The New York Marathon this year was supposed to be a celebration. I had spent 10 years trying to qualify for the race, and finally did it this past February. When I couldn’t get into the race via the standard qualification process, I decided to run for a charity, the Choroidoremia Research Foundation. I successfully raised over $3000 for the charity, and so I was allowed to enter the race!

But after a summer spent hiking across Spain, when I arrived home at the start of September, I was out of shape for running. I set up an aggressive plan to train for the race, but it was too aggressive. After a long flight across the country to visit relatives in mid-September, I could barely walk! It turned out I had acquired runner’s knee, a common affliction for people who try to ramp up their training too fast.

I took the week off of running, then visited a personal trainer, who told me that I could probably rehabilitate fast enough to finish the New York Marathon, but it would be very difficult. I had six weeks to do it.

I took a conservative approach to my training, with no speed work, lots of stretching and strength exercises, and very gradually building up my mileage to a long run of 18 miles two weeks out from the race. I was running slowly, but I could at least run a relatively decent distance. It would have to do.

Two weeks later, I was in New York, waiting to board the Staten Island ferry for the race. After 10 years, I was finally here, but the weather was not good. It was already over 70°, and was forecast to get up to 75. I generally do best in races at around 40°, so this was almost as bad as it could get.

Outside the terminal 

Inside, with a few thousand friends

Still, it was exciting to actually be heading to the start of the race. Claire, a Davidson runner who I had only just met a few weeks before, ended up sitting right across from me on the ferry, and we chatted nervously as the sun rose over New York Harbor.

Then it was off the ferry to get on a bus for the 4-mile ride to the race start. But the the plaza where the buses were arriving to pick up runners was chaotic, even by New York standards. I made my way to a "line" where hundreds of folks were pushing toward the line of buses. There must have been 10,000 people in the plaza, and the buses were loading painfully slowly. Then the row of buses would depart and another row would ease in, as the runners shoved forward. It seemed like I was only moving forward a few inches with each bus, and there were hundreds of people ahead of me. After a half hour or so of waiting, someone asked if this was normal. Several veteran runners said it it wasn't; usually you could just hop right a bus as soon as you got off the ferry. That DEFINITELY wasn't happening. I took a picture of the scene.

Craziness!

Some of the runners said we should let those who were in Wave 1 get on the buses first. That made some sense, but how could anyone be sure the runners cutting ahead were being honest? What if that meant the Wave 2 runners (like me) missed their own starting times? People were yelling for folks to push forward; other people were yelling back that that was the stupidest idea they'd ever heard. I had arrived at the bus stop around 6:45, with 3 hours to spare before I was supposed to start, but now it was looking like I might miss my starting wave. It was after 8 am, and there were still mobs of people pushing and trying to get onto the buses ahead of me. One Wave 1 runner decided to jog to the start, adding an extra 4 miles to his days' run. Honestly that might have been better than standing in a hot crowd for 2+ hours!

I finally got on a bus around 9 am, arriving at the starting area at 9:20. Then I walked towards the starting area, stopping at an open porta-potty. But then suddenly I noticed that signs to the Orange corrals (my assignment) were pointing backwards. Could I have missed a sign? I turned around and found the right pathway to my corral. I arrived just as the corral was closing. "Hurry up," the race official said, and I ran through the starting area as ropes were being pulled up to close it off. I got to the starting area and looked ahead at a sea of people. Behind me was an empty freeway. I had just made it!

In the corral

Soon the PA announcer counted us down, and we started the race, with the song "New York, New York" blaring over the loudspeakers. By the time I got to the start line, the song was over, but I was really here, and this was really happening. I couldn't resist taking a selfie on the bridge; it was just an awesome scene, with 10,000 runners all starting this epic event together (and 3 more waves of 10,000 to come!).

I'm on a bridge! Running a marathon!

A fireboat with the Manhattan skyline in the distance

The race route crosses the Verrazano Narrows bridge and then spends the next 11 miles in Brooklyn. After the excitement of starting the race, it was time to get to the business of making sure I finished it. My plan was to run the same pace I'd been running in training, about 9:15 per mile, for as long as I could. I had completed an 18 miler at this average pace, but I had slowed down drastically over the last couple miles. So the last 8-10 miles of this race might well be much slower than that 9:15 pace. Now, 3 miles into the race, I was feeling just fine, and a 9:15 pace felt quite comfortable.

In the streets of Brooklyn, people were starting the line the course and cheer us on. Some folks had signs; My favorite was "RUN FAST, WE HAVE REALLY BIG RATS IN BROOKLYN." I tried to high-5 as many kids as possible and just soak in the spirit of the community.

The runners' guide promised aid stations with Gatorade Endurance and water every mile starting at Mile 3. I was also carrying 6 gels for fuel. Since the weather was warm and humid, I knew I would need to drink as much as possible. I also had brought some electrolyte tablets but somehow those hadn't made their way into my pockets at the race start, so I decided to drink as much Gatorade as I could during the race. In the past I haven't done well with Gatorade, but more recently I had trained with it for my Ironman, so I knew I could tolerate at least some of it.

As the miles ticked by, I amused myself with little observations about the culture of the race.

• Unlike in Boston and Chicago, people in New York would dash across the course in front of runners. For the most part they managed this without incident, but for some reason even large groups of people would all try to cross together. There was no way a big group could cross without making a collision course with some of the runners. PEOPLE, I wanted to shout. YOU AREN'T GOING TO GET LOST! JUST CROSS ONE AT A TIME AND REGROUP ON THE OTHER SIDE!

• "Allie" was the most popular name for a runner. I would say that "Go Allie" signs outnumbered all other names on signs by at least 2:1.

• This was the only race I've been in where runners routinely stop in the MIDDLE of the road. They were, like, answering their phones, or taking a selfie while STOPPED. What part of RACE don't these people understand?

Me taking a selfie without stopping. It can be done, people!

• The smell of marijuana doesn't bother me during a race, but chestnuts roasting give me a nearly instantaneous gag reflex. Fortunately there was much more marijuana being consumed along the course than chestnuts.

• There is a Lorimer Street in Brooklyn. It's a little different from Lorimer Road in Davidson though:

Not as many trees. Other than that, pretty similar to Davidson ;)

As we got closer to the center of Brooklyn, the crowds got bigger and rowdier. The course was taped off with police tape, but no one paid any attention to that, and fans were out in the middle of the street. 

We were getting funneled through a narrower and narrower corridor

I would say the inconvenience of being packed tightly among the other runners was roughly balanced by the energy and enthusiasm of the crowds, so all in all it wasn't too much of a problem. 

During Mile 14 we crossed over the Pulaski Bridge and into Queens. This section of Queens was fairly industrial so there weren't quite as many people as in Brooklyn but there were still plenty of folks to cheer us on. After 2 miles in Queens we got onto the Queensboro Bridge and headed towards Manhattan.

I had been told this was the quietest part of the race, but even though it's a big climb to cross the bridge, I didn't have much difficulty with it. I think I was anxious with anticipation of coming out onto First Avenue in Manhattan where the largest crowds of the race would be. Soon, I descended into Manhattan and got to see those crowds for myself. They were AWESOME! Super loud and enthusiastic (though still biased towards runners named "Allie"), and it was a huge help. 

Running up First, getting cheered by a few hundred thousand friends

Miles 17-20 were on First Avenue, and despite the enthusiasm of the crowds, my body was beginning to remind me that I hadn't run this far even once during training. So far I had only been taking walk breaks at aid stations, but I bargained with myself, telling myself I could start taking an extra walk break each mile after Mile 20. I had kept that 9:15 pace up until about Mile 11, but now my pace was more like 10:00. I didn't really have a time goal for this race other than making sure to finish in less than 4 hours and 50 minutes (which would qualify me for the Comrades Marathon next year). I started to do mental math to figure out what I needed to do to stay under 4:50. I convinced myself I should be fine as long as I kept the pace faster than 12:00 per mile. 

The course crossed into the Bronx for a mile and a half. As we headed back towards Manhattan a woman held a sign indicating it was the LAST DAMN BRIDGE. In Harlem now, I passed a big high school band, who SCREAMED with glee at the person running behind me. Who was it? J-Lo? Drake? No, it was a classmate of theirs.

I was running on Fifth Avenue alongside Central Park, then into Central Park. Just two miles left! But I had spent almost everything to get to this point. I walked the hills. I turned onto Central Park South. One mile left! Then I turned back into the park and headed toward the finish line. I had watched Shalane Flanagan and Meb Keflezighi run this section to victory. Now I was running it! I crossed the line! I had done it!

My time was nothing special, 4:34 and change, but it was solidly under the 4:50 I needed. But New York had given me a fantastic race. Now I just wanted to sit down. Unfortunately, they don't let you do that at the end of the New York Marathon. I had to walk a mile to get out of the park. Finally, on 76th Street, you can walk back into the city. I looked for a park bench. The best I could do was a half-wall in front of a brownstone. I sat there and rested my aching legs. In a minute a man joined and asked how my race went. I said it was tough, but I really enjoyed it. Then I asked how his race went. "Oh, I didn't run the race, I LIVE here!" Embarrassed, I thanked him for sharing his wall with me. He told me it was his pleasure, then offered me a beer. I was in no condition to keep a beer down, but I thanked him for the offer. I chatted with him for 10 minutes, then headed out into the city to meet up with my family. 

After 10 years of trying to qualify and run the New York Marathon, was it worth it? Absolutely! It wasn't my fastest race, or even what I should have been able to do given where my training was earlier this year, but it was about as good as I could have expected under the circumstances. And I got to experience New York in a really cool, fun way, and see New Yorkers at their best. Would I do it again? I'm not sure -- there are lots of other things I want to do first. But I would highly encourage anyone who's inclined to run a big city marathon to try to get into New York. It's an amazing experience!

Click Here for the Strava record of my race.