Contact John Loeschhorn
mtnrnr@pacbell.net


When we watch the champion mount the victory stand, it is tempting to think that he, like some of us began preparing for this race three months ago, and that he has won this race because he is gifted and running has always been easy for him. It may be true that champions are gifted, but championship running doesn't come easy to anyone and many of the most gifted runners never become champions.

Fred Shufflebarger is my first nomination for the Orange County Runner's Hall of Fame, in the Ultra-Running Category. I think Fred Shufflebarger's career exemplifies the career model of champion athletes and illustrates some important points that will be useful to you when you experience setbacks in your progress toward your personal goals.

On October 3, 1992, Fred Shufflebarger won the Angeles Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run, completing the race in 19:22:16, the second fastest time ever run on this very demanding course and more than two hours faster than Fred's previous best time. Many of Fred's friends know him as "Fast Fred," but Fred hasn't always been that fast. Fred raced for five years before he won his first race. And then after he had won a few races, he learned he wasn't as fast as he thought and he still had more to learn.  Fred and I talked about his race and the road he traveled to reach his lofty goal. Since Fred's experiences are so similar to those of other top runners I have known, I would like to share some of his comments. This is Fred's story:

"When I first started running, I wasn't that serious about my training, and for the most part it was hit and miss. I knew I wanted to race, but I didn't give much thought to what kind of training I needed to do to prepare for these races. In those days I would go to races and think about how hard they were. Maybe I was a little afraid of committing myself to these races, or of having to go all out, so I wouldn't really train for them. Then I would run these races, when I wasn't well prepared, but when I still had high expectations for myself, and I would usually go out too fast and die at the end. It took me a few years to learn that a lot of times the races were mostly hard because I wasn't prepared, or because my expectations were too high, and not because the races were really that difficult.

Now I know that when you are prepared, races seem easier. When you have trained properly you know what your abilities are and you are more realistic about your expectations. Your body knows more or less what it has to do, and therefore you get a better performance. You get a better performance, because you are tuned in to your body and know what to expect. The more specific training you do, the more you are in tune with your body and know what to expect.

My break though race was the San Francisco Marathon in 1985. It was the first race where I had a goal and I made a commitment to achieve that goal. That was the first time I had done that, ever. And the thing that struck me most about that race was that I nearly hit my goal of 2:45, which was a goal I just pulled out of the air. I ran 2:46, which was almost right on and quite an improvement over my previous personal record of 2:55. The second thing I noticed about the race is, I just went out and ran it; there was no drama. I didn't struggle, I just ran it. It was rather uneventful. Since then I have noticed that this often happens when I'm well prepared, when I know the course and what I have to do and when I am mentally and physically prepared; the race just takes care of itself.

The following year I won the Mule Run 50K, and that got me to thinking that I might be able to achieve something with my running. But then I ran the San Juan Trail 50 Mile and didn't run as well as I thought I could and so I ended up disappointed. Then the following February I ran the Pacific Crest Trail 50 Miles and won that, so things started looking up again. The next few years were up and down, I improved my marathon personal record to 2:38, and set a few records at the Pacific Crest Trail 50 Mile, but many of my other races were frustrating.

1988, 89 and 90 were bad for me. It's kind of hard to think about those years. In races like the Mule Run 50K, which I had won on my first attempt, I now finished a few places back. And although it seemed I had potential to run well in 100-mile races, I had a tough time finishing them. For example, I finished the Western States 100-Mile Endurance Run in 1988, but I was over-trained and burnt out and my time of 23:23 was pretty disappointing. Then, after being part of the lead pack for the first 30 miles, I dropped out of the Western States 100-mile in 1990.

The Western States 100 in 1990 was another break through, because it helped me to realize that I was better than I thought, but that because I went out too fast, I destroyed my quads and then I had to drop out.

I started to think that if I was ever going to be successful at running 100-mile races, I needed to learn more about what it would take to be successful. I started the Angeles Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run in 1990 intending to run slow, finish and hopefully learn something about racing 100 miles. Everything went well until 57 miles where I started racing and ended up bonking and dropping out. This race taught me not to race "people" and how to eat properly. I learned that if you bonk you can come back if you eat something.

I went to the Angeles Crest 100 in 1991 not expecting to run real great and nearly ran away with the race. I got in the lead and had fun, but my problem was that I didn't have a plan that included me leading and therefore I wasn't prepared for leading when it happened. I did better than I expected, but I tired late and finished second. All in all I ran a good race, even considering I faltered at the end. The race taught me that if I trained properly, I could run a pace that could win and that set me up for this year.

Although I had some hard years, I learned something in each race and I learned as much in the races I didn't finish as those that I finished. It is easy months after the race to say you could have done better here and there in the race. But then, the next year when you try to run it, you realize you ran dog gone hard the previous year and the improvements you thought would come so easy, come harder on race day. It is real easy to second guess yourself during and after a race, you look at sections of the race where your ran slow or had to walk, and then afterwards you think, "Oh God, what a wimp I was." But then you find out next year that you ran slower because that was a really tough section.

After the Angeles Crest 100 in 1991, I decided that I enjoyed leading the race for 75 miles and I wanted to see if I could go the whole way and race the last section of it. I knew I was going to run the race in 1992 as soon as I finished last year's race, so I had a whole year to plan and prepare for the race. It is not so much that I had a year to plan for the race, but that I was committed to running the race and my mind knew I was going to run the race. So in a way, while I wasn't making active plans, in a way I was preparing my mind for it. So on race day I was mentally prepared. You need to be committed well in advance in order to run great performances. I knew Angeles Crest was going to be my major race of the year, so every thing just sort of built toward that  Click here to view Fred's final preparations for the race.

It was the first time I was really well prepared for a 100-mile race, and I just knew I would run better than I had ever run before. On race day, the race just fell into place on its own. It was the kind of race where I just went out and ran and always felt good. 

I felt pretty good the whole day and although I knew there were runners behind me, and that maybe they could catch me, I didn't dwell on the possibility of losing. I had visualized myself running the race and no matter how many times I visualized the race, I just didn't see myself coming in second. Even when I visualized Jussi Hamalainen, last year's winner, catching me and passing me, there wasn't much energy in it, or fear in it. I guess I just wasn't having any part of that. 

I had prepared well and I knew I was going to run a good race. I had a time goal for each aid station and I checked my time as I went along and everything just fell into place. I had studied my splits at each check point from previous years and I had compared those times to the times run by Jim O'Brien, the course record holder, and other runners. I had developed goal times for each checkpoint that I thought were optimistic, but also realistic. I had trained extensively on the course and practiced running 100-mile race pace, on all the sections of the course, so I pretty much knew what I could do.

Having a good training program made a big difference, it gave me a lot of confidence. I believed in the program and that gave me the peace of mind of knowing that I had a good outline of what to do each week. In my training, I just felt I was doing enough and doing the right things, and I knew I was training better than I had ever trained before. I just felt the training program included everything I needed. Once I knew I had prepared as well as I could, then it came down to, "Just how talented am I?"

I knew most people would not be as well prepared as I was, so the question was, "Were there people in the race with enough talent to offset my preparation?" I knew Jussi knew the course really well, and had won the race twice before. I thought I could run a time about as fast as he had ever run there, but I didn't know how much faster he could go, if he were pushed.

I was amazed how well my plan worked and how well I ran at the end and that makes me wonder how much better I could be at this. I don't know if I could go much faster, but who knows? I was amazed at how much energy my body put out and how long I could keep going. I was also amazed at how well I ran on such a low intake of food. I doubt I took in more than 4000 calories, the rest of my energy was provided by my own body fat. Even when I was out of energy, I was still moving along at a good pace. It wasn't that I was trying harder it was just that my body was so much more efficient."

Now that you are up to date on Fred's story, I want to re-emphasize the important points. The process of becoming the best runner you can become is a drawn out and continuous process involving a lot of hard work and dedication. Patience, pacing and persistence are the keys to your success. As a beginner you should not be overly concerned with winning races or improving your times, but rather, you should strive to learn the training principles, develop the right training habits and expand your fitness. Once this foundation is laid, improvements will follow, in fact success can scarcely be avoided. But the road to becoming the best runner you can become is a long journey, and like all long journey's, it will be fraught with unforeseen and unavoidable frustrations. The way you choose to handle the road blocks life throws in your path will determine the level of success you ultimately achieve.

Many people simply give up in the face of failure, but champions like Fred Shufflebarger persevere and learn new survival skills while overcoming the obstacles. Fred Shufflebarger has earned the right to be an initial member of the Orange County Runner's Hall of Fame.


A Proud Fred Shufflebarger Stands Triumphant
-A Champion For the Second Consecutive Year-
On The Finish-Line of the Angeles Crest 100 Mile Endurance Race


Copyright © 2001 by John Loeschhorn - Mail to:mtnrnr@pacbell.net
March 9, 2001