Zane Grey Highline Trail 50-mile Endurance Run
April 16, 2011
Interview with Sean Andrish
Sean's thumb post-surgery
Sean, congratulations on a great race, especially given the circumstances. As I recall you have quite a history of toughing out stress fractures, seizures, a broken foot, and other injuries during races – how did this one compare to previous injuries?
This was by far the worse. The broken foot was nothing.
So how bad would an injury have to be to make you drop out? What’s the pain threshold?
I’ll drop if there is a chance that it will do permanent damage.
Um, how do you know that?
As soon as I knew that there was blood flow for the thumb, I knew that I wasn’t going to lose it.
Okay, so backing up, you were out skiing in Frisco, CO, the week before the race with the Frisco Ultra Contingent. Did this help prepare you for Zane Grey?
We had a great time at Kerry’s house in Frisco, CO – it was a group of VHTRCers and WUSsies, including Kerry, Doug, Aaron, Linda, Bill, and Bob. We had several days of spring skiing, including a fantastic powder day at Copper Mountain. While in Frisco, I was pretty encouraged by the fact that I got a couple fairly comfortable trail runs on snow-covered trails at 9,000 feet of altitude (Zane Grey is 5,000 – 7,000 feet). Then of course there was the run that became known as ‘Sean’s Death March’ that I did with Doug, Bill and Bob one morning with a bone-chilling wind with most of us gasping for air from the elevation and that saw Bill sink up to his waist in snow.
Good times. But in general you’d recommend at least a week of FUCing before a race?
I think it was good for acclimatization.
So how do Aaron and Brian compare as bedmates?
Well, um, Aaron and I didn’t share a bed like Brian and I did, so I’d have say Brian was a bit more affectionate.
(Laughing) So, um, why did you decide to do Zane Grey instead of Bull Run this year?
I actually first got into trail running in Tuscon, Arizona, so it was great getting back to that scene. I had heard great things about the trail, that it’s really rocky terrain, which you know I’m a big fan of. It was great catching up with Tom Nielson, Chase Duarte (who has run Catawba), and other old Arizona buddies.
So you kind of knew going in that there were going to be a lot of nose-dives.
Yeah, but Tom Simonds, a fellow Leesburg trail runner, and I did a short hike on the Zane Grey Highline Trail the night before and the trail had some rocks, but wasn’t as horrible as I’d been warned. We wondered if, like so many trails, the difficulty of the trail was overrated.
Like what trails are overrated?
Western States comes to mind.
I recall you skipped Terrapin Mountain in March – how were you feeling going into the race?
Having not run an official ultra since last September (G.E.E.R. 50k) (and Uwharrie was just was a wimpy 20 miler), I was just excited to get on the trail again.
So how did the race go? When exactly did the break happen?
There was a pack of four of us who took off at the start and we stayed together for a mile or so, until the climb got steeper and I decided to walk since I was a little worried about being able to cover the distance given my lack of long runs this winter (and because I’m a lazy runner who consistently walks the uphills). I was cruising along somewhere around mile 3, enjoying the sunrise over the mountains of northern AZ and the Mogollon Rim, when I tripped on a rock and went sliding down the trail. It didn’t seem like a particularly bad fall, but when I was picking myself off the trail I noticed that my left thumb was pointing in the wrong direction and was bent at about a 90 degree angle. I was careful the next couple miles, and frequently made sure I could feel the tip of my thumb to make sure blood was still flowing there. Once I convinced myself that my thumb was only dislocated and had not suffered any major damage, I became determined to get my head back in the game and finish the race.
Coming into the aid station at mile 8, I asked if there was anyone there with medical training. It took several minutes to locate an EMT and during this time fellow WUSsie Amy Sproston found me and asked if I needed anything. I was disappointed to hear that she had dropped out of the race within the first mile, but was grateful to see a familiar face there to help me. She was the calmest person there and didn’t seem alarmed at the shape my thumb was in. When the EMT arrived, I asked him to just pull my thumb back into place, but he said that he was not legally qualified to perform this task. So he just made me a splint out of a popsicle stick. Amy realized that I could not carry a bottle in my left hand and offered to let me use her Nathan hydration pack, which I quickly accepted. I had spent at least 10 minutes at the aid station and, during that time, several runners had passed through. I was somewhat discouraged by the fact that my thumb was throbbing, I was not going to be in contention to win the race, and I still had over 40 miles to go.
Did you ever think about dropping?
As I hiked up the next climb, my mood changed and I decided to not be a mental wimp and just keep running the best I could. How could I not enjoy spending a day running on rocky trails in the hills below the Mogollon Rim!
It warmed up quickly and by 8:30 I was feeling the 80+ degree heat. I settled into a routine of taking two salt pills every hour on the hour and drinking as much as possible. The vast majority of the trail between miles 17 and 33 was very exposed due to a wildfire and that’s when the hot weather was most noticeable. I ran this stretch fairly well and to my surprise I actually passed a few people. I seemed to run stronger throughout the race, even though my thumb was killing me and I kept falling on a regular basis (partly because of muscle fatigue caused by my epilepsy meds but mostly because I wasn’t paying close enough attention to the trail).
So you kept falling on the thumb? You know you’re crazy….
I practiced several falling techniques throughout the run as I tried to protect my left hand. I became proficient at the right-hand extended slide, the tuck and roll, and the sliding on my forearms rather than on my hands. Occasionally I would fall on my injured thumb and yell in pain. Given time to react, my preferred technique was the tuck and roll and I felt awful about the beating Amy’s hydration pack took as a result of these falls.
Sean's legs make friends with the AZ foliage
Amy became my lifeline. She was there at every aid station, filling my water bottle and my hydration pack, making sure I had food to eat at the aid station and on the trail, and offering lots of encouragement. She called my dad to tell him what happened and to see if he thought I should continue running. Amy told me that he did not seem too concerned and did not object to me finishing the race; this is no surprise to anyone who knows my dad!
If your dad lets you drop, you can be pretty sure it’s because you’re already dead.
I continued to catch people throughout the day and, as I came into the final aid station at mile 44, Amy excitedly told me that I was in 6th place and that three runners were right in front of me. That gave me a boost of adrenaline, and I took off out of the aid station. The boost of energy didn’t last too long, though, as I hit the final climb of the day; an extremely steep climb that seemed endless. However, as soon as the climb was completed my mood improved as I realized that the trail was runable, there were no more significant climbs, and there were only a few miles remaining! I passed one of the guys and ended up in 5th.
Master’s winner too!
Yeah, fastest old guy. Great.
First Inaugural WUS Donut Run
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Participants: Kirsten Corris, Tom Corris, Anna Griffis, Neal Gorman, Jonathan Loewus-Deitch, Justine Morrison, Doug Sullivan, Brittany Zale
Volunteers: Sean Andrish, Gaby Duran-Gorman, Cecily Garber, Bobby Gill, Brian Greeley, Keith Knipling, Martha Nelson
On April 21, 2011, a small but fierce WUS contingent consumed ~72 Krispy Kreme donuts by the Dupont Circle fountain over the course of a (slightly long) 10k out-and-back through Dumbarton Oaks. Brittany, Anna, and John accounted for half of the donut consumption themselves, with 12 apiece, with Brittany and Anna completing the straight-shot 5k course up and down Connecticut Avenue. Neal won the overall race so handedly that he threw down an extra two donuts just for good measure, for a total of 8. Other true (6-donut) finishers included Doug and Colin, Neal’s brother in law. Astonishingly, there was no puking. Much was learned about donut-eating over the course of the event: many favored the smushed donut approach (although Doug’s 6-donuts-smushed-together strategy may have backfired – a maximum of 2 at a time is probably preferable); Brittany discovered that the standing up approach is preferable to sitting, which squashes the already strained organs together; and Tom and Kirsten fared exceptionally well with the screw-the-donuts-let’s-get-sushi approach.
Doug demos the 6-smushed donut approach
It would have been nice to have seen Neal get some real competition. But John was fresh off a 100k victory on the West Coast (we will neglect mentioning the denominator of the competition) and was still recovering; Sean broke his thumb at his Zane Grey 50 in Arizona and was indisposed (a blog on his remarkable 5th place finish is forthcoming, but delayed by the said non-functional thumb); and Greeley has still not solved his knee problem, much to his ire. However, despite these set-backs, John was the only one to eat 12 donuts and run the whole 10k, and deserves some kind of prize for that (we’re not sure exactly what kind of ‘other way to reward him’ Martha was offering to those she thought deserving of additional prizes during the awards ceremony, but there will likely be much stiffer competition at next year’s men’s race on account of it).
Despite the best distracting efforts of a pair of baby raccoons Martha found outside her office that afternoon, the race went relatively logistically smoothly, due to ample help from the volunteers: in particular, Gaby at the start, Bobby and Keith with the cameras (more pictures available here (Bobby’s) and here (Keith’s), Neal’s awards procurement, and to Sean for carrying all of Cecily’s and my stuff (with his indisposed thumb, and answering my cell phone…) while we sprinted to Dupont Circle to procure the donuts just ahead of the first runners. May I add that Greeley made a great water boy, too. Despite the arduous efforts of Sean, Cecily, and I to chalk-mark the entire course (note that Cecily saved the day by very ably diffusing any potential Sean-Martha showdown over Sean’s insistence that my course markings were a) too small, b) too infrequent, and c) indicating that runners should climb trees), Colin ended up on Mass Ave, but eventually found his own way home, which is all that really matters. Keith and Bobby crossed signals and Keith spent much of the race lingering outside the Krispy Kreme (although Bobby may have done that on purpose to keep those zebra prints out of his carefully chromatically arranged shots).
These gutsy (literally) performances bode well for next week’s Beer Mile. Apparently Wussies have stomachs of steel (see those pictures of Brittany’s donut-made six-pack). Following a smashing victory in 49:04 that included a stop at Krispy Kreme, 2 extra donuts, and a scratch in the woods, Neal is poised as the guy to beat on the men’s side. Brittany and Anna made it back up Connecticut with no puking (we checked) and will be the gastrointestinal systems to beat on the women’s side. But many new challengers will be making an entrance, and I’m afraid this time there will be no option to run less, consume more, Ms Zale.
Last bite!
From its humble beginnings as a small group of friends who had a standing “date” for a Tuesday night run and dinner, WUS has grown to the unwieldy beast of its present form. It seems inevitable that in such a large group of independently minded individuals, splinter factions should form. One splinter faction to have formed of late is the Frisco Ultra Contingent. The Frisco Ultra Contingent, or FUC, gathers irregularly in Frisco, CO, for activities that center on skiing, hot tubbing, stealing shopping carts and the consumption of adult beverages.
FUCers Prepare. Thank you, WalMart.
Kerry is the original FUCer, and hosts the entire group at her primary Frisco abode. As the matriarch of the group, Kerry is known within the group as the Mother FUCer.
The FUCers' method for getting up hills is far superior to that of the WUSsies.
We honored the customs and traditions of our WUS forbearers with pizza and beer at the Backcountry Brewery on the WUS sabbath, Tuesday night. However, the FUCers do not limit such activities to Tuesdays. Or nights.
A FUCer Tradition
In further keeping with WUS traditions, Sean talked about going for a run every day. One day, he did (purported) go for his long spoken-of run. And there was much rejoicing.
Bonus points to you if you can spot Sean in this picture.
Overall, the FUCers showed true WUS spirit, and soldiered on through sunny days, blue skies and excellent snow.
Bill demonstrates the FUCer work ethic.
1st inaugural wus donut run
thursday, april 21, 2011
6:30pm meet for pre-run briefing, 6:45 run starts
wus house
destination: dupont circle krispy kreme (actually, the donuts will be in the middle of Dupont Circle near the fountain — more room there)
options: 10k + 6 donuts OR 3mi + 12 donuts
bring with you: $5 for donuts
Confirmed participants:
Male: Doug S, Ryon L, Neal G, Joe S, Mario R, John L-D (12 donut option), Colin Campbell (Gaby’s brother)
Female: Kerry O, Anna G, Brittany Z (12 donut option), Justine
Volunteers: Martha N, Sean A, Brian G, Gaby D-G, Cecily G, Keith K
1st inaugural wus beer mile
thursday, april 28, 2011
7pm
wus house
destination: cathedral track (garfield & 34th)
bring with you: 4 beers (12 oz min) in cans or bottles
Confirmed participants:
Male: Doug S, Sean A, Ryon L, Brian G, Neal G, Joe S, John L-D, Mario R, Keith K, Art, Adam, Bobby G, Bob N (Martha’s dad), Fred (Martha’s brother), Sean B
Female: Brittany Z, Anna G, Robin B, Kirsten C, Martha N, Gaby B (Brittany’s friend), Justine M
Volunteers: Marko R, Bella L (Ryon’s daughter), Jill N (Martha’s mom)
Post-event: Cactus Cantina
The WUS Shirt
2nd place Bull Run 50 finisher Neal Gorman sporting the crimson
I received my glorious crimson WUS shirt today. I love it, it’s silky and light and the women’s medium fits perfectly. I normally race in singlets (I know, very road runnery of me), but I will race in the WUS shirt with great pride. If I have a piece of tape, that is. I know it’s just cheeky and cute, but I cannot run with ‘You are being beat by a WUS’ being broadcast to those behind me, the negative message will be the death of my karma. And as with most of me, my karma is very delicate: it’s all part of the whole no-watch, no-GPS, no-heart monitor, no-counting miles and seconds thing. It’s about waving and saying Good job to the two girls who were kicking my ass after the turnaround at Charlottesville even though they said nothing back. I have a visceral reaction against shirts like those that read, You are being beat by a girl, which seem to defeat my years of effort to acclimate guys to the idea of getting passed by women so they don’t do that stupid surge and block thing (yes, I mean you Anand Reddi, BCC High School class of ’99 — don’t think I’ll soon forget you stonewalling me in that 3200m). Believe me, the Marine who runs MCM carrying the US flag does not wear a shirt saying You are getting beat by a dude carrying a flag.
My trail racing career was actually launched by a visceral reaction against a message on the back of woman’s shirt. I was a total road runner at that point and merely planning to trot through the gnarly 18.9 mile Escarpment Trail Run in the Catskills of New York as a more adventurous training run, as I had never done a trail race before (I had no idea what I was doing – I ended up 4 hours in the July heat with no water bottle — I thought aid stations every 7 miles sounded like a lot). I trotted along the first 5 miles leisurely, enjoying the mud and rocks, and loving that we were allowed to walk up the hills – go figure! But at some point I found myself behind a woman (later identified as Sheryl Wheeler) in a shirt that had a message on the back something along the lines of ‘Jesus has made me fleet as the deer’. My first reaction was that this was a boldface lie, and an insult to the lithe deer that could dust this lady any day. As I thought about it, the line bothered me more: it would be better said ‘Jesus has made us fleet as the deer’ – I mean, who was Jesus to pick favorites, we were all out here running. As an evolutionary biologist working on my PhD at the time, I started coming up with my own lines: ‘Darwinian selection, meiosis, random mutation, genetic drift, and environmental conditions have made me an f-ing little tiger that could rip a deer to pieces’. I have nothing against Jesus, in fact I consider myself a fan (even as a non-practicing Jew), but as an evolutionary biologist I had been dealing with a lot of religious zealots who thought I was the devil for trying to improve human health by understanding how viruses evolve, so this touched a nerve. And in general, I don’t care what people believe as long as they don’t get flaunt it in my face and insinuate that their religion is somehow superior to mine (as a 5 year old my born-again cousin told me I was going to hell). As a rule of thumb, I’d like to keep trail-running as egalitarian and religiously neutral as possible. To defend the virtues of my own spirituality, or maybe to prove that Jesus liked me too~, I quickly passed the Deer Lady and raced all the way in, collapsing over and over in the last 4 miles (there is a lovely youtube clip of me biting it here) because trail runners in July really should take water bottles, but crossing the finish line in 1st.
Bringing us back to the present, I’ve been trying to come up with what kind of appropriate, non-offensive personal message I’m going to tape on the back of my WUS shirt. I thought about ‘Ditch the watch,’ which really does capture the essence of my running philosophy, particularly after witnessing Knipling’s bloody foamy wrist tonight, savaged by his man-eating GPS (and well as several runners last night admitting that if they can’t find their GPS they will forego the run entirely – I think a running fairy’s light goes out every time that happens). I think that ‘See you on the Uphill’ could also be my epithet, assuaging all the runners I’m speeding by down the hills that they will soon be seeing me plodding like a lame ox as soon as the angle of the slope reverses. But I really like ‘CAUTION: This WUS has gas’, a nice little double entendre that is simultaneously intimidating and self-deprecating.
