Book Review : "Obstacle Race Training" by Margaret Schlacter

I think there is an obstacle racer in each and every one of us. I discovered it for myself when I ran the Spartan Race, which I believe was the first obstacle event to be held in Quebec at that time. The incredible high and the feeling of achievement stayed with me for days, and I still love to take a look at my crazy race pictures every once in a while.

My friend Margaret Schlacter has captured and bottled that feeling, and is offering it for everyone to enjoy in her new book “Obstacle Race Training”, which is aptly subtitled “How to beat any course, compete like a champion and change your life”. For me, above everything else, that's what this book represents; an opportunity for many to discover something new, and change their life for the better.

It's not that the book holds any special recipe or long-lost secret; on the contrary. It does a great job of explaining what obstacle course racing (OCR) is, and of convincing you anyone can do it. And the best part is, it's true.

Whether you are specifically looking for advice on obstacle course racing or you're just looking for an inspiration to go out and have an adventure, this book is a great read. I found myself eating it from cover to cover in a single day, spending longer time in the adventure segments where Margaret describes her own experience as an obstacle racer and when she relates other people's journeys through the sport as well.

“Obstacle Race Training” is filled with excellent, simple, no-gimmick advice on how to train your whole body, make good decisions about your nutrition and hydration and about how to set realistic goals that are going to get you going and then craving some more as you experience success, just like Margaret's personal adventure. And although it doesn't shy away from the elite perspective at times, the book is centered on the amateur racer, from absolute beginners to experienced athletes.

That's all really good, but that's not what I liked the most about the book. I think the best value of “Obstacle Race Training” lies in its inspiration to go out and do things we've been told we are incapable of. For having experienced a couple adventure races myself, and marveled at times at my capabilities (as well as despaired at my shortcomings), I know first hand that the true experience in a Spartan Race, a Hunter Gatherer or any other obstacle course is in the discovery that we are all built to challenge ourselves and we all thrive and find a simple happiness in living exhilarating physical adventures.

Margaret and I finishing
Fuego Y Agua adventure race
in Nicaragua

We have been told for so long that everything is risky or dangerous, and we have been so overprotected in padded environments with warning labels, safety equipment and guardrails that we have forgotten a key element of the human experience: the risk and reward. Like one of my heroes, George Carlin, always said, “Take a fucking chance, will ya!?”. Adventure racing gives you just that; the opportunity to step out of your comfort zone, challenge yourself, and realize real life is built of obstacles to be conquered.

Margaret Schlacter guides you in this discovery and helps you get acquainted with this seemingly crazy world by showing you around, giving you pointers and setting you on your own journey to train your body, improve your health and experience the exhilaration of coming out of a race course filthy, scratched up and grinning uncontrollably from ear to ear, already wanting to have another go at running in the mud pits again.

This is what “Obstacle Race Training” will do for you. It will convince you to try it for yourself. It will help you achieve the proper physical training. It will guide you and accompany you along your first race experiences. It will encourage you to take better health habits through nutrition, hydration and rest. 

But, best of all, it just might make you take a fucking chance.

Review : Altra Lone Peak 1.5

• Type : Neutral
• Use : Trail
• Price : $115-130

Intro

I discovered Altra shoes while having a couple drinks and snacks at my friends the Miller's after a run. We were talking about the excesses of the “maximalist” movement, where shoes get more and more padding to appeal to the tired feet of long distance runners. Someone produced a pair of Altra Lone Peaks to make a point that there were shoes out there which offered significant padding, but followed some of the basic principles of “minimalist” running, too. No need to say, they got my attention.

First test

I had a long run scheduled shortly thereafter and received my Lone Peaks on the day I was leaving, which left no room for second thoughts. If I was going to wear those shoes in my Grand Canyon rim-to-rim-to-rim adventure, I had to be dead sure they wouldn't cause issues. The day before our traverse, we went out for a couple-hours hike down the south rim; that was my chance. I tried out the shoes, hiking for several hours, and was very pleased with the comfort, super wide toe box and soft ground feel. I was convinced enough to wear them the next morning.

Long-distance trail test

We started our adventure before daylight, which means some unsure steps along a very steep downhill in the semi-darkness. Immediately, I felt at ease in the Lone Peaks. They are grippy and feel very secure, yet their soft sole leaves all the room you want for foot flexing and ground feel. Being zero-drop, they didn't alter my running form in any way and their low weight, impressive considering the amount of material in the shoe, made me feel as quick-stepped and light as in any other, more minimal shoe I usually wear.

Not too shabby for a test lab :)

But the Lone Peaks started to really shine when the miles piled up. Beyond twenty miles of fast downhills and gruelling climbs, I expected my feet to start getting tired and beat up. Not at all. The cushioning is thick and soft, and my feet felt so fresh that it was hard to believe, considering the terrain we were navigating.

More miles and more fatigue, and still the shoes felt great. I was a little worried that the very wide toe box would cause significant inner friction. On the contrary; the ample room left my toes free to move and I didn't feel any hot spots. I didn't have to lace too hard either, so no blood circulation issues, even when my feet inevitably swelled up from the hours of beating down the dirt paths.

I emerged back on the south rim over sixteen hours after I had started, and couldn't repress a wide smile when I took the Lone Peaks off to find no blisters whatsoever, no hotspots and no bruising. This shoe, I tell you, is an absolute keeper.

Analysis

Altra has definitely found an equilibrium between comfy cushioning and firm ground feel. The Lone Peak doesn't go over board like the ultra-cushioned extravagant Hoka, yet provides such a smooth ride that you can wear it for hours on end and still feel great, protected and close to the ground all at once. The soles are grippy and firm, never slipping, sliding or rolling. I even tried a couple pretty stupid steps on sketchy scree, wet rocks and other perils and I never lost grip. I felt confident and could focus more on the beautiful nature that surrounded me, instead of wearily scanning the trail to pick my way at every step. I finished a pretty gruelling adventure with fresh feet, and a huge smile on my face.

Conclusion

The Altra Lone Peak is an awesome trail shoe perfectly fit for long distance running on a wide variety of terrains. If you train in lightweight minimal shoes and are looking for a comfier ride for your trail ultras, look no further. The wide toe box lets your toes move freely, while the upper and the lacing fit snugly around your foot. The grip is perfect and actually added to my confidence on the trails. The cushioning is what really sets this shoe aside (and I would say above) the competition for its fantastic comfort while not taking anything away from ground feel and flex, which really made me wonder how I would ever run another ultra wearing anything else.

High points

• Thick, comfy, excellent cushioning
• No compromise on flex and ground feel
• Zero-drop conception doesn't alter your running form
• Light weight
• Neat extras, like a built-in velcro attachment for gaiters

Low points

• Probably too padded for an everyday trainer

Growing Feet... At 41

This is the weirdest thing.

My sabbatical year, as you can figure by now, was devoted to running and enjoying outdoor adventures. Throughout this awesome time, I have gained several benefits from the increased mileage and number of races I've enjoyed. During my travel time alone, I have now completed 16 ultras and several other running adventures.

The benefits range from excellent health (My cholesterol was recently measured at 4.10, which I'm told is exceptionally good - and I don't come from a good family background) to great immune resistance to increased fitness and a recovery capability I'd never dreamed of. Needless to say, I'm pretty stoked.

But my increased running seems to have had another, totally unbelievable consequence, too. My feet have grown a size and a half! How is that even possible?

I started running, a couple years ago, as a size 7. I have to say, after about a year, I started buying size 7.5 shoes, but I thought I was just getting to like more toe room (I'm not a big fan of black toes). But as my sabbatical year went and I replaced or bought new shoes, I found myself getting size 8, then 8.5... up to the point that I am now a size 9!

This isn't some kind of subjective matter; the shoes I had originally brought on this trip (that didn't end up getting worn to shreds or donated) literally don't fit me anymore. Even the new shoes I bought earlier on the trip are too tight and ended up in the donations pile.

Am I the only one? Did I trigger some sort of dormant gene that awakens after a couple thousand miles and transforms our feet to suit our running needs better? I have to say, I'm dumbfounded.




Qui aurait cru que nos pieds peuvent grandir et changer de forme?! À 41 ans, après un an de course intensif, ma pointure de souliers a augmenté d'un point et demi!

Crown King Scramble 50K - Best. DNF. Ever.

«If you're hurt or injured, don't press on and make matters worse. Just know when to call it a day.»

Although it's not always easy, I try to live by my own advice. Mind you, I consider myself privileged because I run all I want and I seldom, if ever, get injured. Knock on wood, I haven't had any serious injuries for a couple years now.

But that comes with a little price to pay; I can't have an ego. Not that I want one anyway, but still, I like to keep up with my running friends and do well in the events I run.

So when my right knee started to hurt less than 2 miles into Crown King Scramble 50, the pinch I felt the most was to my pride. I was running with La Mariposa, and I was feeling very happy to be out in nature with my friend, about to experience a new part of beautiful Arizona. The morning was fresh and the day full of promise, but all I could feel at that point was disappointment and worry.

«What is it?» she asked, noticing my form had gotten weird. «My knee. It hurts. I'm gonna have to walk bits. Just go on, run your race, I'll see you at the finish.»

«No way», is what I got for an answer, and after a couple friendly «Andale, huevon», I gave running another shot. For about 300 yards. Things were getting desperate, and I knew I couldn't hope for a finish that day. I stopped at Nathan Coury's truck, less than 2.5 miles in, and looked at his passenger's seat. «Really?!» he said. «The day's just starting. Take it easy, walk bits. No worries. Make it at least to the first aid station, then see how it goes.» I returned his friendly smile, and went on.

The first aid station came, about 8 miles in. I hadn't run a lot, and when I did, I felt this shooting pain in my knee that I know too well. It's exactly like an IT Band symptom, except in my case, it's just my body screaming at me. Like a warning light on the dashboard. «If you keep going, I'm gonna mess you up.»

No one at the first aid station, including La Mariposa, had any pity for me. Most of what's ahead is hiking anyway, I was told, so no point in stopping now. Make it to mile 15, then you'll be at the bottom of the long steep climb. Keep a good hiking pace and you'll make the cut-offs, easy.

My buddy Richard

Ah, well. Walking didn't hurt, so I reluctantly kept going. I was really grateful that my friend was with me, even though it was turning her run into a leisurely walk while everyone else was whisking by. Soon enough, though, my other knee started to hurt, and then my hips. Walking was now painful, too, and my greatest fear, getting hurt, came to haunt me. Luckily, the mile 15 aid station was coming, and I told Maria I was done for good. I stopped and sat on a chair, massaged my legs in the morning sun and cheered on the other runners.

Soon, the aid station staff figured they had to do something with me, but no one was going in the direction of the finish line, where all my friends and El Capitan were. While they were breaking down, one of the local radio operators, Richard, showed up in his macked-out Rubicon. «Can you take this guy up the trail?». Richard just smirked. He pointed to his Jeep with his chin and said «The ride might be a little bumpy.» I smiled wide and said «Bring it.» Instantaneous friendship ensued.

Richard's macked-out Rubicon

We climbed in his Jeep and Richard gave me a preview of what his machine could do. We climbed rock walls, bounced off pitches and rocked left and right as we drove up to the next aid station, listening to French music and talking trail adventures. We picked up another tired runner on the way, Chris, who was more than happy to jump in with us and enjoy a little break. We all squeezed in the two-seater and we got to the third aid station before we knew it. I high-fived my new friend, thanking him for the awesome ride. «Chris will take you guys to the finish from here, I have to go back to work.»

Crazy Chris and his Trail Machine

A third fallen brother, Vance, was waiting for a ride, too. His face was pale and he looked like he was ready to call it a day. I figured we'd hop on some kind of pickup truck, but instead, we were pointed to a 4-wheel dune buggy-looking machine, which I later learned is called a Razor. There, another Chris waited for us, and he was smiling, too.

«Let me set up your guys' harnesses», he said, smirking. This guy looked like trouble, and I loved it. I called shotgun, not that I think any other guy wanted the seat anyway, and jumped in front, my camera in hand. So, instead of telling you how it went, let me... show you :)

My DNF ride absolutely made my day and allowed me to cheer on my friends and experience the trails they ran on. I got to the finish line dirty and grinning from ear to ear, excited with our trail shenanigans. It was an absolute blast, and a good reminder that whatever you do out there on the trails, including dropping out from a run, has always the potential to make you happy and enjoy a great day out with friends!


Post-race note. My knee's just fine. After 3 days of rest, I've been enjoying two days of pain-free running over all sorts of terrain. I guess my long drives from the days prior to Crown King kept my legs always in the same position and caused some sort of muscular unease.




Abandonner une course, ce n'est pas abandonner la vie. C'est juste prendre un autre chemin, qui peut se révéler aussi passionnant, excitant et mémorable que le plan initial:)