Felix Culpa

felix culpa - a happy or fortunate fall

A few days ago I was running at my favorite cathedral of pain, White Ranch, on a section of trail that I’ve run dozens of times before. It’s a steep downhill section with a few roots but mostly buffed out single track through pine trees. It’s one of my favorite sections in the entire park.

Well, maybe it’s not anymore.

I was running just ahead of my friend when I rolled my ankle so hard that I heard the telltale POP that signals an ankle sprain. Just how badly it was injured remained to be seen. I stretched it out until I could walk on it and eventually run on it again, though it was very tight. Since we were 6 miles from the trailhead, we finished the 6 mile loop and it seemed to hold up ok, just tight and painful.

By the time I got home, my right ankle was the size of a baseball. I’m using the RICE technique (rest, ice, compression, elevation) and the swelling has started to die down, but it’s still sore and stiff. My ankle bones are not painful to the touch, so nothing seems to be broken or torn off a bone, but it’s going to take some time.

Unfortunately, there are only two weeks until Wasatch 100. Just guessing here, but I think two healthy ankles would be nice.

And yet, maybe this is a felix culpa. Yesterday, I rode my mountain bike for the first time in months. Cody ran behind me while I rode and she had the biggest smile on her face the whole time. I was pretty happy too.

As it turns out, it’s really fun to ride a bike again! So I went for a second ride that day up in south Boulder on the Flatirons Vista trails, which are relatively flat with only a few rocky technical sections. It was beautiful and there were hardly any other riders out there. I got my heart rate up and my legs got a great workout too.

I started thinking about riding my tri bike and my cyclocross bike again and got excited for the adventures I could plan. I remembered that I’ve been wanting to ride the peak to peak highway this summer, and maybe I’ll actually do it. I liked covering long distances quickly, with my head up to the horizon and eyes not always glued to the trail.

Today we even rode up Lookout Mountain in Golden for the first time, and I got a chance to watch the pro peloton ride up in the last stage of the USA Pro Challenge. It was awesome to see Jens Voigt race for the last time in his career and to see CO rider Tejay Van Garderen win the race. 

So maybe something good will come out of a sprained ankle. Maybe cross training will be fun again, like it was when I was racing triathlon. Maybe I’ll sign up for Leadman next year and do the bike races along with the runs in Leadville.

And maybe I won’t go completely crazy tapering for Wasatch 100 with a bum ankle.

Keys to Finishing a 100 Mile Race

After a successful Bighorn 100 mile mountain run in 22:04 and a top-10 finish, I finally felt like I knew what I was doing at the 100 mile distance. I made some mistakes that could've cost me my race, but I was able to overcome them and that's where long races get really interesting. Hopefully I can share something here that will be helpful to other ultra runners looking to tackle a 100 miler.

There are 2 keys to running a 100 mile race:
1) fueling
2) pacing

Fueling:

"It’s not about fitness. Everybody is fit, but it’s who can eat, drink, fuel, and get from the start to the finish—those are the guys that win.”
-Mike Aish, ultra runner

Calories:

I try to eat 200-300 calories every hour.

I like to drink a combination of Carbo-pro + water in my bottles and to have a variety of gel flavors to eat.

Carbo-pro is a flavorless powder with 100 calories and 25 grams carbs per scoop. Powerbar gels are currently my favorite gels because they have 110-120 calories, 200 mg of sodium, and 27g carbs. They are more liquid-like than GU or Hammer gels, and when they get cold they aren’t as firm to eat. I also like e-Gels, which have 150 calories and 230 mg of sodium.

If I have a crew at the race, I'll have them bring Ensure to each crew access point because liquid calories go down easily and quickly.



I find that both E-gels and Powerbar gels go down quickly during the night time when my stomach tends to revolt. I like a variety of sweet and sour flavored gels like chocolate for sweet and green apple or tangerine for sour. The balance allows me to avoid getting so sick of them.

I try to eat some solid foods early in a race, like granola bars, bananas, salted potatoes and whatever else they have at the aid stations that won't make me puke, but I generally move to a gel and liquid-only diet later on when my stomach is sensitive and I need calories quickly.

Whatever you're consuming, check out the calories and the carbs on the label. A rule of thumb I use when choosing a fuel source that will provide energy quickly is 25g carbs per 100 calories.

Salt:

I like Salt Stick caps with 215 mg sodium and a blend of 4 other electrolytes, or Succeed S! Caps with a massive 341 mg sodium and 21 mg potassium. I'll take one tab every 1-2 hours in the 60-80F degree days, and 2+ tabs if it’s hotter than that. At night, try some chicken broth for salt and warmth -- it's glorious when available.

Below is a pic of my secret weapon: the tiny plastic container. I keep enough salt tabs, gas-x, tums, and tylenol for 30 hours of running in this little gem and it's always on me during a race. No sharp edges to cut/chafe either.



Hydration:

I down 30-40 oz of water every hour if it's 60-80F. A bit less if it's colder and 50 oz or so if hotter. My target when I get 'running brain' aka 'the dumz' is to drink one and a half 22oz handhelds or two 17oz Salomon soft flasks every hour.

Ultimate Direction AK vest with two 17oz soft flasks on Redcloud Peak

We are each an experiment of one. Use your long training runs to experiment with different amounts of water.

Pacing:

"Let 'em all go"
-Me

Patience is key to pacing 100s, and you can ruin your race in the first 25 miles by running too fast.

Nobody wins a 100 in the first 25, but plenty have lost their race there. I've tried going out hard and hanging on, and afterward I vowed never to try that again. Recently, I've started using a HR monitor to keep close tabs on my effort, especially early in the race.

Bighorn 100 start. Currently in 50th place.

It is true that a 100 mile race begins at mile 75. If you can be patient at the start and hold a strong effort during the last 25 miles, then you have nailed the 100 mile distance. Most people will blow up between the 65-80 mile mark. I’ll venture that most runners blow up because of two reasons:

1. Not taking in enough calories and fluids
2. Going out too hard

Good news: these are fixable problems!

Heart Rate Method:

I’ve started wearing a heart rate monitor during races in order to keep myself from going out too fast, firing up the engines too soon, and blowing up. During training, I’ve figured out that I can run all day at 130-138 bpm. If I’m going up short hills then I can hold a 138-145 bpm effort, but if I’m running up any longer hills and I’m hovering in that higher HR zone, then I’m sure to explode at the end of the race.

There is no shame in hiking hills in order to keep your effort/HR low. Make it a fast hike and you can smash your mountain 100.

Matchstick Analogy:

Coach Jorge Martinez (E3 Training Solutions) uses the matchstick analogy regarding pacing, which goes as follows. Your body is a box of matchsticks, and there is a finite number of matchsticks in the box. Every time you spike your effort, you burn a matchstick. And when you run out of matchsticks, you have nothing to light your fire.

When you go too hard uphill or down, you burn a matchstick. When you pass someone too fast, or try to keep their faster pace when it's not your pace, you burn a matchstick. Matchsticks are valuable tools, and they should be saved for when they're most needed, like the last 25 miles of a race.

Bonus: Gear Stuff

Gear I like:

Ultimate Direction AK Race Vest 2.0
17oz Salomon soft flasks
Buff headwear
Garmin Forerunner 310XT w/ heart rate monitor
Nathan Quickdraw Plus
Petzl MYO RXP headlamp

Shoes I like:

Pearl Izumi Trail N2
Adidas Adios Boost
Salomon S-lab Sense 3 Ultra Softground
La Sportiva Helios
La Sportiva Vertical K
Montrail Rogue Fly
Hoka Bondi Speed

Moment of zen:

Why run 100 miles? Because nobody hires you to do it, nobody can fire you from it, nobody can tell you that you don't have the degree to do it, you just go out there and figure out how you can do it.

Bighorn 100 Race Report

One summer when I was 10 years old and living in upstate New York, my family went on a driving tour of Wyoming. The entire state. Disney World it was not. And that’s a good thing. I remember seeing Oregon Trail ruts, eating a chuck wagon dinner, going to a rodeo, and stopping over at towns where every single person was wearing a cowboy hat and open carrying a knife and/or gun on their hip. Sometimes two of each.

Cody in Wyoming Wildflowers

Earlier this year, the talk among my running buddies was about Bighorn 100 in Dayton, WY, and now that I live in Colorado, I knew I had to get back to that wild and rugged state. Plus I’d get to see the Bighorn Mountains for the first time. So I pulled the trigger and prepared for Bighorn.Special shout out to Hillary, who ran the 50 miler, smashed the course record, won the female race, and finished 3rd overall. Whoa.

Left to right: Hillary, me, Krol, Jon, Liz

I took a different training approach to this 100 than races I’ve done in the past. Usually I’ll race a couple 50 milers and 50ks to get prepared, but this year I just haven’t felt like racing much and work has gotten in the way, so I made a plan to train big mileage, big volume, big vert gain every week, with a few recovery weeks in between. I was consistent, motivated, and free of injury. I was ready to race this 100. That was a first.

Race week arrived. Wednesday after work we packed up the Element, turned it into a camper, and drove up to Glendo Reservoir, where we dirtbagged overnight and then finished driving to Sheridan the next morning.

In a parking lot near race registration, out of the back of the car, I obsessively packed and repacked the one drop bag that I’d be using for Footbridge aid station at miles 30 and 66.

Questions I ask myself while packing my drop bags:

1. Can too much Tylenol kill me? (answer: yes)
2. How many tubes of lube will my crotch need? (answer: 1)
3. Do I have enough salt stick tabs for heat? (answer: probably not)
4. Will too much Gas-X kill me? (answer: nobody knows)
5. Should I rearrange my iPod playlist again? (answer: dude, stop obsessing)

Race registration was in the basement of a consignment sports shop in downtown Sheridan, where all racers went through a brief medical check and weigh-in. Oh no, the dreaded weigh in. The past week I was feeling taper-fat, with droopy skin falling all over my jeans and neck fat I could see whenever I looked down at my bloated ankles. But when I stepped on the scale and saw a perfect race weight, the thought of wearing a muumuu to the race finally ebbed away.

After registration, I dropped off my newborn drop bag and went to the hotel to obsess over the race map and directions for amazing crew of one, Alaina. I annotated the elevation profile from the race website and wrote out aid station needs. Good thing my running pals, Krol, Liz, Adam, Hillary, and Jon wanted to meet up for dinner so I could take my mind off the details. Strong IPAs helped too.

The next day we drove up to Dayton for race morning. The race briefing was at Scott Park in Dayton, and the race start about 2.5 miles up a dirt road. At 11am, we were lined up on the road with canyon walls rising up on either side of us. Nervous chatter vibrated the air.

OGs

The RD started us off, and Jon, Krol, and I were running in a pack, reminding each other to let everyone go, to take it really easy – we had 100 miles to run and mountains to climb! Sure, it sounds easy to say, but 30+ runners were gunning it out front and not chasing them down was really hard. But I’d made that mistake at the Bear 100 and I told myself never again.

Left to right: Krol, Jon, me

The three of us took turns pacing at the front of our little gruppetto like a Tour de France echelon. I regaled Jon and Ryan with tales from the recent Criterium du Dauphine and the Giro, for which I presume they were most entertained.

We ran a lot of the gradual grades of the six mile climb, but we turned to a power hike for everything steep. Our spirits were high and the effort was very conservative, and the latter is rare for this group. Shoe adjustments ensued and aid stations were reached, with amazing volunteers working these very remote locations. This race has the best volunteers. Everyone asked what we needed and called out what they had. An aid station called Upper Sheep even had bacon!

Runners starting up the dirt road

Early on, water was pouring off my head, so I knew it was going to be a scorcher. I tucked my buff into the back of my hat so that it hung down to my shoulders to protect the back of my neck. Very Badwater-esque. Looking down at my one 22oz handheld, I had to be diligent to refill at the aid stations that were ~3-5 miles apart, which is a veritable luxury distance between aid at an ultra. Some other ultras spread them out 10+ miles apart. But even still, I was feeling dehydrated. I wasn't acclimated to this kind of exposed heat.

Buff in the back of my hat, a life saver

We missed one turn, which probably cost us 1 minute but we got back on trail quickly, with some help of fellow runners who yelled down to us. The trail running community is amazing this way. Overall, the course was marked brilliantly, probably the best I’ve ever seen for a 100. Even during the late night hours, when my pace was slow and my mind was failing, there was always a course marker to relieve me.

After a short section on dirt road we hit Dry Fork AS at 13.5, the first crew access, where Alaina yelled to all three of us that she had our gear. In fact, she'd laid out my shoes, nutrition, and clothes options perfectly. She's the best crew! I dropped my bottle and grabbed my UD AK 2.0 vest with its two 17oz Salomon soft flasks of water with Carbopro, and I ditched my Salomon Softground shoes in favor of a pair of my trusty Pearl Izumi N2. Alaina gave me a kiss and I was on my way.

As I took off down a gradual descent, my legs were singing "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" in praise of all the cushion underfoot. But my stomach was starting to turn sour from being dehydrated. I started drinking more water, being sure to finish my bottles before each aid station and refilling fully, but during this section my stomach turned, along with my mood.

Around mile 20, I slipped running down a slick grassy section and screamed some obscenities. After that, I started slipping back from Krol and Jon. I needed some alone time and I wanted to make sure I took the early miles really easy.  I could feel our pace rising whenever there were runners ahead of us, and I couldn't afford to play rabbit games this early on with my stomach to shite, so I hung back and they ran out of view. I actually started feeling a bit better going my own pace and separating from the group.

I caught back up to them at mile 25 just before Bear Camp, when Krol stopped off to make like a bear in the woods. I ran with Jon down the ~20% grade to Footbridge AS. Along the way we caught one of the front women and wished her well. She was running alone and very strong.

At this point my hamstrings were already cramping and my quads were unusually tight. I think the dehydration was accelerating the damage to my muscles. I wasn't recovering well, though my stomach had settled considerably with all the water and salt stick tabs I was taking down in an attempt to recover from dehydration.

At Footbridge, Adam was quick to help me with my drop bag, refilling my gels and getting me an Ensure. I drank an entire bottle of water and a volunteer refilled it immediately. I took off uphill, starting up the 4,500' climb to Jaws aid station. I ran all the mellow grades and power hiked the rest. I thought for sure Jon and Krol would catch up to me at any time but they never appeared. I stopped briefly at the aid stations along the way, admiring the horses that carried in all their supplies. Bighorn is so rugged and remote that cars can't make it this far into the mountains.

I caught two or three runners along this 17 mile uphill section without putting too much damage on my legs, but I was worried about what the downhill would do to my quads. All worries subsided though because the views of the Bighorn mountains were spectacular in the approaching dusk. The sun had gone behind the ridges, so temps were much cooler. I was peeing regularly now and my stomach felt great. Mentally I stayed positive, I just kept moving at my own pace and feeling super.

Heading to mile 47, I ran up on another guy and looked farther up the trail where I saw a female moose just off the course. I yelled up to him and we gave her a wide berth, not wanting to start a Karl Meltzer type moose standoff, like the 2009 race when he got kicked!

I got to mile 46, Jaws AS, at dusk and once again Alaina was there with all my clothes ready. I changed into a long sleeve tech tee with my 6oz GoLite puffy and Mountain Hardware tights in my pack, along with the Brooks LSD jacket that almost never leaves my vest. That sumbeetch is mountain essential.

A mile later or so I saw Jon, with Krol shortly behind, heading toward Jaws, and I gave them encouragement. I was sure I'd be seeing them later down the trail.

Some snow lingered up top and the mud and water pits were harder to avoid on the way down, but I kept up a decent pace in the approaching dark. The descent is not steep, but it's long at 17 miles and the elevation loss is considerable: -4500'. And it's pretty constant. My quads were so tight that I could barely kick my legs back and hit my butt. I have no idea why they were so very tight so early. MOst likely it was the dehydration plus the rutted deer trail we'd been on for the first 20 miles. This is one rugged, wild, and scenic course! Maybe I should've stopped and stretched them out for a while. I don't know. They seemed destined for pain. That sounds like denial of my culpability.

Cody expresses how I wished I was running downhill

Soon two runners passed me and I passed one. I kept looking over my shoulder because I knew I wasn't moving that quickly downhill. I was a bit disappointed in my performance during this section. I was constantly glancing over my shoulder. I probably needed some tunes and podcasts to keep my company since I didn't have a pacer.

Finally I reached mile 66 and Footbridge Aid Station, where I saw Krol's pup, Honey Bear, but no Adam or Jason, so I got my drop bag and ditched my puffy and my tights because it was so warm, knowing I had my LSD jacket for the night. In hindsight, I should've changed my headlamp batteries here, about halfway through the night so that I wouldn't have to do it later. Small schtuff.

The volunteers kept trying to get me to sit down but I was all, 'No way!' I knew I'd never get up from the chair. I was only going to sit if I quit or if I finished. I stuffed more gels in my vest and got my bottles refilled and headed back quickly to face a very steep climb.

The night was black as pitch. A runner ahead of me stayed up there and didn't slow down on the 2,000 foot climb. I hiked as hard as I could but damn it was steep. No one that I could see was behind me. I fiddled with my iPod until I got it in my ears right and nobody came up on me. I kept moving forward. Relentless forward progress, that's the motto. I listened to Freakonomics podcasts in the windy woods, happy to have some audio company. I was wide awake, peeing constantly, stomach mostly ok for this distance, and at each aid station the volunteers put a big smile on my pained face.

Pretty trail in daylight. Terrible trail when I felt like death.

I reached the top of the steepness, and now came rolling trail in the woods. I saw eyes staring at me off in the woods. I tucked my chin into my chest and stared down, staying calm. Unfortunately, my quads were totally blown. I could tell every time the trail went downhill. Flats were fine, even uphills were totally runnable. But the end of this race was about to get fugly.

Just before dawn, I was listening to a podcast about why the US doesn't care about the World Cup and I was crossing the 4,532nd stream on the course. I jumped from rock to rock and my foot slipped, so I went down on my back into the creek, just a few meters from where I'd fallen downhill on the way out. I cursed the race, my legs, and the World Cup. I cursed puppies and rainbows and bacon and all things that bring joy to everyone. I was fucking done. And cold and wet.

Pic taken after the race. These shoes used to be orange

Coming into the next aid station, I changed my headlamp batteries with ones they had at the aid station, got some soup, bananas, gels, and comfort. Thank you volunteers. My soggy ass was so damn grateful. But as I left this aid, the sun was starting to show signs of light. There was hope! No matter how I terribly finished, I could complete this thing! Thank you sun!

The climb up to Dry Fork AS seemed 10x harder than I had anticipated on the way out. I was so slow. My quads were so blown that every step was torture. I made like a cat hole in the woods along the way here and felt a little better. I knew I could finish, but how many people would pass me?

This is Dry Fork AS the previous day. Very few people there the next day.

Slowly I pow hiked up to Dry Fork AS where Alaina was waiting for me. She was so encouraging I cannot thank her enough. I felt like shiteballs covered in dog vomit. Probably smelled worse. I dropped off my LSD jacket and took some Ensure. I picked up green apple Powerbar gels, since I couldn't stand anything sweet. I still had 17 miles to go. I wasn't going to quit, but mentally I felt so so low. 17 fucking miles. And that last section is such a steep downhill. That's going to destroy me.
I hiked up the smooth road heading out of the aid station. Pathetic. Run you fucker. So I ran. Piece of shit. I ran slower so that I could keep running. Plod plod plot. Nice view. Fuck this. Stupid nice view, making me feel better. Why don't you feel like me you stupid fields of wild flowers, cast in perfect dawn light? Oh and here comes some dude to crush my soul a little more. 'Hi man. Hi. Yeah my quads are blown. Good job, you rock man.' Oy, I suck.

Dark times, but they pass. Not yet, but they do.

I tried to run downhill. I was at mile 87. My mind should have kicked into heroin mode and allowed my legs to feel nothing. Nahhhh, my quads still screamed. I walked a few sections of downhill. Terrible. I yelled into the mountains "STOP GOING DOWNHILL!" in a really pathetic, self-pitying voice. For fucks sake man, why do this?! You suck at this shit you fucking asshole!

So I ran angry. Really angry. I turned green and ran hard downhill. I saw the raging river beside me and thought of diving in, off a 500' cliff. But eventually, my legs kinda sorta stopped hurting so bad. I aimed for a 13 minute/mile goal pace for the last 15 miles. As the slope mellowed out and there was tree cover, I was actually hitting my pace. I blew through the last aid station and saw 5 miles to go. Ok, no problem, 5 flat miles on smooth road. Think of holding that buckle man!

Sure, I ran for a while. Then I walked. I even had a shot at sub-22 hours if I ran 9m/m. Instead I settled for 12m/m. I was blown. It was blazing hot in my long sleeve black tech tee and my vest. My legs might turn to shrapnel if I run any more. Still, I kept going. Angry, done for, spent, pained. This section was the worst of the whole race. I went to dark places. With 3 miles to go, I could kill bunnies. I was mean.

But I made it.

I ran into the finish after 22 hours and 4 minutes, with tears on my face as I ran under the finish banner. I went sub-24 on a very hard mountain course and a difficult day. I finished my third 100 mile race, and this was the most painful of all of them.

I tried to sit in the river. I was too woozy and tired and ragged. I sat on my knees, bent over the grass for a long while until Alaina and Liz got me water. I couldn't stand up. For the rest of the afternoon, I laid down, napped occasionally in the shade and tried not to pass out and/or throw up. By dinner I was a bit better but man did this 100 fuck me up royally. I don't know if these things are healthy.

I finished 9th overall at 22:04 and made the Rusty Spurs club going sub-24 and I'm still looking forward to Wasatch 100 in September. I can put together a solid 100 miler in the mountains. There's a lot left to learn and races to run, but I don't have any regrets about my Bighorn 100.

Adidas Adios Boost Shoe Review

Ryan's Review
I like lightweight shoes. I have toothpicks for ankles and a frame sometimes described as bird-like, so I appreciate shoes that cut the weight at the end of my slim leg pendulum. I also like shoes in the 8-10mm drop range, but unfortunately for me, most lightweight trail shoes gravitate toward the 4mm drop end. These make my calves explode.

So I tried an experiment with road shoes: Adidas Adizero Adios 2.0. These shoes are 8oz, 10mm drop, with a tough Continental rubber outsole. I loved them. I was running rugged mountain trails in the Golden, CO area and not feeling rock poke. My calves were singing praises. My only issue was the upper. I couldn't lock down my heel without tying the laces really tight, hurting my instep.

Adidas Adios 2.0

Enter the Adidas Adios Boost. Same specs (drop, weight, outsole) as the 2.0, but with two major improvements. First, the midsole: Boost technology does not use EVA foam; instead, it is made of thermoplastic beads that are fused together. This midsole is among the bounciest and most durable I have ever run on. It's like Hoka bounce without the stack height or extra give. Second, the upper has a stiffer lacing system that allows for heel lockdown that is so good I don't even run in my Adios 2.0 any more. It can't compare. 

Adidas Adios Boost. White Ranch Park, Colorado

This is a lightweight road shoe that you can use for running mountain trails. My first run in the Adios Boost was a 23 miler at White Ranch, featuring loads of steep, rocky terrain, cambered, snowy trail, and 4,000+ feet of vert gain. This shoe is up for the task. The next weekend I ran a 25 miler at White Ranch, again. I could bomb down the loose rock with confidence that the outsole and midsole would protect me, despite the fact that this road shoe has no rock plate. They're super snappy on the uphills and I've had some of my fastest mountain training runs in them.

Ride and Fit
The ride is firm on the Adios Boost, and it feels like an 8mm drop, but the claim is 10mm. Two drawbacks for trail running is they're not good in loose, dry rock/sand, and they're ice skates in mud. Compared to the Adios 2.0, they run slightly larger than size (maybe try 1/2 size down). The toe box is standard, and the heel is narrow. The low heel collar lets in a lot of debris, so you might want to use gaiters on dirty trail.

Pedigree
Hal Koerner won Hardrock 100 in Adios 2.0. Chris Vargo won Golden Gate Dirty 30 in Adios 2.0. Patrick Makau set a world record marathon 2:03:38 in Berlin in 2011 in Adios 2.0. Now with the Boost midsole technology -- both springy and durable -- if a touch heavier than EVA foam, this is a superb shoe.

Adios Boost sticking to rock on Beaver Brook Trail

Alaina's Review
Ever since I tried on the Adidas Boost shoes while working at Runners Roost, I couldn't wait to own a pair. The original Boost shoes are super comfy, but they are a lot bulkier than the majority of shoes I run in. When Adidas added the Boost technology to their lightweight Adios, I was sold. 

My first run in them was a 12 mile run on the Colorado trail. When I first put them on I was worried that they wouldn't have enough cushion to protect me from feeling every rock on the trail. I was quickly proven wrong. For how little cushioning there is, I was amazed at how much they protected my feet. I could still feel the ground really well, just not the jabbing rocks that I can sometimes feel in my Salomon Sense Ultra and La Sportiva Vertical K. They were very quick and responsive. I just love how the Boost technology feels.

Pros
Soft, yet springy and responsive
Good ground contact feeling, yet protective on all terrain
They just feel fast

Cons The only cons I have for these shoes are based on how they perform on trails, and obviously they were designed as a road shoe.
Very slippery on light, loose dirt/sand
Not great traction on ice/snow