Scott loves trails

Year of Multiple 100s @ Age 50: Training Week #5

2012-02-06T20:00:00.000-08:00

Week ending February 5

Overview: A good week overall. Extending the time on feet. First time doing six hour run since mid-November. I was unexpectedly "out of it" the next morning (little lightheaded, nauseous) so had to cancel the planned Sat. run and B2B plan. Also did my first two a day in this training cycle, and my first speedwork session since the hamstring injury. So all in all can't complain!

Runs: 5 (4 days)

Total running time: About 10 hours.

Speed session (Mike Keohane coach): 10 X quarter on E. Park Drive from 90th St. Did in controlled fashion, descending from 2:02 down to about 1:43. Minute rests. Stayed within myself. Felt a little hamstring "noise" last couple reps, and made sure not to test out a faster "gear" I knew was lurking in there. Smart transition back into speed! Hadn't done organized speed since early November.

Long run: 23.2 single track miles in 6:05 counting all stoppage time (Friday). Solo run in Palisades Interstate Park (NY/NJ border along Hudson River) from Police Station/Park HQ. Northern loop/out and back, reload at car, then southerly loop/out and back. Beautiful day, no clouds, high in mid-40s. Climbs: 2 X Huyler Landing at 460' per, 1 X Forest View at 520', 2 X Closter Dock at 460 per, 1 X Shore Trail up from Peanut Falls to State Line at 500'-ish. Maybe 3,000-3,500' of total climb for day? Did the (tougher) first 12 in exactly 3 hours, so slowed down in second half, with overall average of 15:45 pace. Felt pace lagging around 3:30 mark and then again the last half hour, but still managed to thrown in 13s to 14s on the more runable miles in second half. Very encouraging day!

Yoga/stretching: One Vinyasa class. Stretched 4 days. Need to make sure I stretch after long runs and on weekend.

Strength: One Iron Strength/full body, one upper body/core. Didn't get in a leg-specific session--pressed for time and knees a little sore after run Sunday. Need to get back to full complement of three strength workouts next week.

Cross-training: One easy half hour swim.

Weight: 158/159. Too high. Stubbornly high. Watch the post-long-run eating binges! Gotta watch the snacks and desserts.

Moving forward: Massanutten is 3 months and a week away! Entered Cascade Crest lottery this week, drawing Feb. 11th. Plan for this week is speed class (hills), at least two hours Friday, and then the 15-20 miles of the Hike-a-Thong at Sterling Forest on Saturday, complete with heavy pack. Then cut back a little early next week in prep for MMT Training Run on Feb. 18th. Tired over the weekend and today , but body is starting to make the adjustments to the increased workload, and legs per se aren't really beat up. Read up today on Udo's oil as a recovery aid, and picked up a small bottle at health food store today to start trying out as an experiment.

Training Week #4 YM100s@50

2012-01-31T13:57:00.000-08:00

Year of the Multiple 100s Training Week #4, ending 1/29

Overview: Very tired and getting pushback from legs and body first half of week. But good second half of week.

Runs: 5

Longest: 4:27 (11.9 miles of hilly/technical at Bear Mtn/Harriman, with Garth); longest outing of year, and a beautiful day. Felt good to be back on technical trails.

Total: 8:40 time on feet

Speed: No. Planned for Tuesday night, but dead legs that AM on short run so decided to forego.

Other key workouts: Sunday 1:20 run for about 8.9 miles on carriage trails in Central Park as somewhat of a second half of a B2B. Averaging 8:48 pace for the GPS portion. Felt strong, though a few twinges in right hamstring led me to back off a little toward end.

Yoga: one class

Strength: Only upper body/core (one), but didn't do legs due to early week soreness and then Sunday opted for run over planned strength session. Need to resume that this week.

Weight: 158-158.5 (need to get back to 150s)

Moving forward: Feels good to be stepping up the trail time, and also to get back the sensation of faster running the next day. Happy to get the acceptance to do MMT training run #2 in February and be able to combine with family trip. Need to up the ante next few weeks to be able to handle 30 miles in 3 weeks!

YM100@50 Training Week #3

2012-01-23T19:33:00.000-08:00

Overview: A good week. Stepped up the mileage, and did the first snow run and snowshoe run, respectively, of the winter. Cool! Hamstring a-ok.

Runs: 6 including one snowshoe (5 carriage trail, one real trail)

Hours Running: 9:45 approx.

Longest Run: 2:51 run on fresh powder with Paul and Garth at Harriman. Lots of work to cover 7 miles. Beautiful, but slow going, and some route-finding on unmarked trails plus tricky stream-fording with icy rocks.

Speed: None yet, though did some pickups Friday which felt good.

Swim/Bike: One 45 minute swim.

Yoga: One Vinyasa class. Nursing it slightly but yoga feeling coming back.

Strength: One upper/core, one traditional all-around legs (about an hour of adductors/abductors, high bench step ups forward and side with lunges, glutes, calves, etc.). Planned to do Iron Strength Sunday but with snow not likely to last opted for snowshoe opportunity that AM instead.

Days Off: None (second week in a row, and not a good idea to continue this streak! Already Monday I'm beat, after just easy swim and yoga)

Weeks 1 and 2 of the YM100s@50 (Year of Multiple 100s at 50)

2012-01-17T19:30:00.000-08:00

Overview: The main themes were injury recovery (December 11th hamstring strain at XC 15K) and slowly building back the base. On Jan. 5th the doctor said I probably was feeling the scar tissue from the recovering right outer/middle hamstring rather than the strain itself. (Strain is my word, he never really said). He said to get a couple deep tissue massages, and start his "IronStrength" program twice weekly to deal with strength and imbalance issues. And to stay away from speed and hill work for a while. It was good to know the recovery, after stops and starts the previous weeks, could move into an active phase!

Jan. 2-8: Week 1

Total Running Hours: 2:15 approx.

Runs: 4 (two were walk-runs)

Longest Run: 45 minutes

Strength: first Iron Strength + 1 upper body/core at Equinox

Yoga: None (still waiting)

Stretching: Good. Pre- and post-run. Most every day.

Swim and Bike: Two easy sessions (one each, or was it two swims?)

Weight: 156-157 (gone up a little post-holidays)

Comments: This would have been the weekend of Phunt 50K--damn! Being very careful until seeing Dr. Metzl on Thursday and still methodical after that. Runs prior to seeing him encouraging. One helpful massage. Lots of general soreness from recovering muscles, but not as painful in hamstring during massage as I feared. 45 minutes on weekend felt like a breakthrough, though very slow.

Jan. 9-15: Week 2

Total Running Hours: 6 approx.

Runs: 5

Longest Run: about 6.5m for 2:06 (run/hike at Palisades, including Giant Stairs rock scramble section; with Lesley, Jeff, Jason, and Garth)

Strength: 2 X IronStrength (legs/core/arms), still getting used to form, building reps, and finding right weights for weighted exercises; 1 X abbreviated leg strength prior to yoga (adductors, high bench step-ups, abductors)

Yoga Classes: 1 (first post-injury)

Stretching: Good, almost every day, including some before runs

Swim and Bike: None

Weight: 157-58 (highest I've been for a while, though was lower at end of week, about 177.5)

Comments: In retrospect will probably look like a key recovery week, both physically and mentally. Rebuilding the distance. 50 minutes, 55, 1 hour, 2 hours. No recurrence of hamstring pain. First time back on trails since the injury. Felt good! No complete rest days. One massage. Slow turnover, but legs are starting to come back. Ready to keep on building it back next week!

Of Transitions, Spinning Wheels, and Recharging Batteries (Fall 2012 Recap)

2011-12-27T16:18:00.000-08:00

Hello, lost blog! The last four months of 201 brought the glorious transition to fatherhood @ fifty--at turns, exhilirating, exasperating, exhausting, and (always) exciting! The four "E's," as I like to call them! Mihiret is the jewel in my crown, my pride and joy, and I can't imagine what life was like before her!

Well, I can, sort of, if only in the running sense! And hopefully in 2012 I'll get back to some semblance of the groove I was in the first half of 2011 leading up to my awesome Bighorn. No regrets, mind you, as it was natural that running would (and will!) continue to take a back seat. But hopefully now I'm in a position to sort of find that elusive balance.

But time to sort of close the ledger on 2011 first. What kind of stands out from the last quarter of '11 are the big races I *didn't* do, and then the season- and year-ending hamstring injury. Training July/August for SOS tri in September only to first have it shortened by Irene damage, and then not wanting to make the overnight trip up for it with Mihiret just out of the hospital. Right call, no regrets, but don't think me and SOS will ever be on the same page as far as qualifying standards, the entry a year in advance, settting aside a big chunk of summer just to train for it, yadda, yadda. Cross that one off the life list, as least for now!

Then getting sick a few days before, and with Mihiret home from surgery, had to pull the plug on what was going to be my "A race" for the fall, the Bimbler's Bluff 50K. Right call again, but I felt like I was primed for a pretty good race there. Unfortunately, part of being primed meant doing only the 25K version of Mountain Madness the weekend before, which turned out to be a nice day where I felt good and could have turned in a good 50K performance. Damn--20/20 hindsight!

At State Line Lookout in the Palisades, with Jeff and Lesley, in September.

The Positive Side of the Ledger

What I can take away on the positive side is four good to decent race performances, one per month. At the Pfalz Point 10 miler in September, I had a good age group place--my first race as a 50-something!--and felt pretty strong...despite the hornet stings I suffered along with maybe half the field! It was a beautiful day in the 'Gunks, and an interesting course. Sort of where cross country meets trails. Not quite the time I was hoping for, but it's a race I could imagine going back to occasionally. Fun time up there with Lesley, Garth, and Jeff.

October brought Mountain Madness.  Even just doing the 25K reminded me how tough the course is, and why I love its twisty, turny, wooded single track.   About as mountainous as NJ trail races get, and you'd be surprised! I felt pretty spent maybe halfway through, but then got my second wind in the latter miles. I kept telling myself I was holding back, and had "one more gear left," and to "save it for Bimbler's." Unfortunately, whatever I saved I didn't get to spen!. Still, it was nice hanging out with the crew before and after the race (Garth, Lesley, Paul, and Steve Cooper made the trip up from Maryland), and a beautiful sunny buy cool fall day with excellent fall color. I ended up with a good overall placing. Unfortunately, I got the news Mihiret was back in the ER just as we were lingering after the race, which meant rushing home and put a damper on the day.

Between what turned out be another hospital stay for Mihiret and my own illness of a couple days, training got shot the last two weeks of October along with Bimbler's as far as long trail runs (got some medium Park runs in, including one on the day of the big October snowstorm, which was one to remember--scary with all the trees coming down around me!).

So having signed up in late September or early October for Stone Mill 50 miler for the weekend before Thanksgiving, I realized I needed to make a bit of a desperate training stand in early November. So that Friday/Saturday I did back to back 6-hour days, in the Palisades solo and then with Garth at Harriman. Felt strong both days. Covered maybe 42 miles or so altogether. That boosted my confidence going in to Delaware Water Gap 50K Fat Ass aka Felsenmeer ("sea of rocks").

In retrospect, DWG proved to be the fall running highlight day for me.   Hands down! I felt good, really enjoyed the unexpected company of Ray Sales on the trip and throughout the run (didn't know till day before he was going!), and it was a perfect fall day, cool and sunny. I love the relentless climbs and rocks, the fall color was great, and it was really nice to see the PA half of the course for the first time. I knew on the early climb up Mt. Tammany, when I felt strong and moved beyond Cherie and Iliana (who were taking their time deliberatly I should add!) and then took off on the backside descent, that it was going to be a good day. While I had moments when I wavered, being with Ray and feeling fit from the fall's training pulled me through. We finished in just about nine hours flat. Not bad on that course!

Ray said on the way back that if he didn't do any more races in '11 (he ultimately did of course, Ray being Ray) it was a good way to end the year. The words proved prophetic for me. It was to be my last ultra of the year, and my first and so far only one since Bighorn. Even after taking two days off running, I then felt really sore Wed., probably from running more than I should on Tuesday (like an hour). When I felt the same dead sensation on Thursday while running and had to shut it down, that cinched my doubts about the long drive down to Stone Mill....not knowing anyone there...the long drive back after a 50 mile run because Esperanza was working Sunday...a course that seemed to be not as remote and gnarly as I might like. In the back of mind, I had known all fall DWG was important enough to go back to that I was not going to surrender it even for a strong 50 miler the next weekend. In the end it really came down to that, but I think I made the right call pulling the plug two days before Stone Mill. Much as I might have liked to run a 50 miler to close the ultra year. Oh well, eyes bigger than the stomach!

Injury Strikes

So, then, taking the hint from my dead legs, I decide to move up the little break I had planned for after Stone Mill, taking off what ended up being 9 days. Just easy cross-training. But that meant doing a little crash course when I came back, fitting in a couple speed sessions on my own, including one six days before at Van Cortlandt on the very same hills that would do me in. All of a desire to do well in my age group at the Pete McArdle 15K, which I'd done back in 2007 and 2008. If I could run about the same time as in '08, I figured in checking the last three year's results, I could maybe score a third place!

Well, thanks to a good warmup, I felt pretty good on the first two 5K loops. Not on the pace I'd hoped, but steady, and running well on the hills. But there were a few signs of hamstring trouble, which seemed to come and go, and I thought were about tightness. On the third and last loop, I really push it up the back hills, and then was starting what has become my usual mad dash down the latter downhills, where I always try to make good time on the course. But disaster struck, as I felt a huge knot and had to pull up. What should I do? Just walk it in? Well, there was maybe 1.5-2K to go, so I said, just keep turning over and slow down, and try not to injure it any more. Folks starting streaming past, which was frustrating, as I thought I could finish strong.

In the end, I maybe lost a couple minutes off my time. It wouldn't have been good enough to score an age group anyway, as I was maybe 6 minutes off the money, in 6th place. I felt pretty dejected afterwards, as I had to limp around, and knew I'd be out for a while. And kind of wondering whether it had been worth it to gear my training around this race for the previous few weeks. But it was nice running into Tim Decker after the race, and hanging out with him in line at Lloyd's as we picked up some of their delicious sweets.

I guess maybe the lesson is...not to bomb those hills so much...listen to your body when there are warning signs....maybe not take time off and then rush quickly back into hard training...don't go train hard up and downhills that close to the race. Tempting to think I shouldn't bother with those short, intense races on ultra-trained legs at all, but I thought the speedwork and shorter stuff from earlier in the fall would carry me through.

Still a Good Year Overall

I remember thinking after Bighorn, "the rest of the year is gravy." In retrospect, that was by far the pinnacle, and the first six months the highlight of the running year. I accomplished a lot those months, and really put it out there. Didn't mean to rest on my laurels the rest of the year, but in some ways circumstances kind of led to that. And I knew running would take a back seat.   Now I'm primed for a strong 2012!

the true spirit of trail running

2011-11-26T10:58:00.000-08:00

"He didn’t want level surfaces or follow-the-leader crowds. True adventure was to be alone. The terrain he traversed was steep slippy grass, or sheer clumps of rock where you had to climb or jump. Sometimes only shepherds or sheep had been that way before. Often you found your way just by eye and compass. If you were lucky, there was a good bright day, and close-burned heather to run on. If you were unlucky there was thick mist, loose scree, and a headlong descent down through rocks and bracken where you had to leap as much as run, risking a broken leg."

From The Economist's obituary of British fell runner Bill Smith, who died doing what he loved best (http://www.economist.com/node/21533348)

Fatherhood and Fifty (or Big Life Changes Come in Bunches!)

2011-09-11T17:06:00.000-07:00

The last few months have been a whirlwind! The trip to Ethiopia in June to meet Mihiret and travel around and have our adoption hearing. The trip to Wyoming a week later for Bighorn and the cathartic effort there. A summer of totaling reorganizing our place, putting up a new wall to create a nursey, throwing away tons of stuff, putting a ton of stuff in storage, and generally trying to get our place ready for the new addition! Then after also squeezing in Escarpment 30K and NYC Tri and mostly tri-oriented training in, we got the call to go back to Ethiopia in mid-August!

After 5 days of bonding with her and our embassy appointment to finalize everything and get the US visa, we finally got to bring her home (after a trip of nearly 24 hours) on August 25th! Five years of trying to adopt, 10 years trying to become parents.....Mihiret is WONDERUFL--social, inquisitive, walking, beautiful, into everything, just like a one year old should be (her first was last Friday !). But she also had a urinary tract infection, which involved two trips to ER, four days in hospital, and now a third antibiotic we administer at home via chest catheter they inserted as she finishes up fighting the infection. At its worst, it gave her high fevers, but never totally laid her low or sapped her energy. Amazingly resilient creature she is!

Of course, our arrival back in the States coincided with....Hurricane Irene...my 50th birthday...the start of the semester and my busiest time of year....but the East Coast quake came a few days later than we got back! Oh yeah, and trying to squeeze in as much tri training as possible (quality over quantity) after the time away, in preparation for SOS Survival of the Shawangunks which took place today. But alas Irene closed Minnewaska Preserve and the organizers chose (much to the disappointment of many of us) to cut the race in half by cutting out four of the eight segments. I might still have gone, but with Mihiret still needing a lot of special attention and the daily IV meds and such, it just made no sense to go up to New Paltz for the Sat. pre-race briefing and the shortened Sun. race. So the best-laid plans of man...and about 10 weeks of training focussed on that one race....oh well, you can't have everything! It was an amazingly EASY decision to give up on the race. I can see how parenthood changes your priorities! I usually HATE to cancel out on a big goal race!

Anyway, she's been a joy, and parenting is this incredible force that just upends and transforms your life and I still feel like we haven't had a chance to settle into any normalcy with schedules. Just how, I wonder, do parents ever get ANY work done? !So much still to sort out with her routine medical testing issues coming from a developing country, childcare to figure once Esperanza goes back to work (not so easy to do with oversubscribed daycare in Manhattan), etc., etc. But it's a joyous ride and we're just hanging on for dear life and trying to roll with it and enjoy it!

Back to the Trails

Well, what took a hit this summer was any time for the trails, especially post-Escarpment 30K in late July. It was hard enough to squeeze in the multi-sport training and then the logistics-heavy NYC tri (briefing Friday, take bike to transition Sunday, get up at 4Am for race Sunday, all for an Olympic distance event!). It's a little frustrating not to be able to take advantage of the modest amount of biking and greater amount of swimming I did since June. I was decently prepared if not ideally trained. Like being all dressed up and the party is canceled! But on the other hand, I feel strong aerobically from getting hard workouts in three sports and the bike hill training I think kept the legs in decent climbing form for the trails. So it wasn't a total waste at all.

I briefly just now flirted with doing a late-season half Ironman, like last year. But I can't really get motivated by that, and have been itching for the post-SOS change of gears back to the trails and at least shorter ultras for the fall. Now I got an earlier start on that, and don't have the post-SOS recovery to worry about. So, game on with the fall running program!

So....I think I've set up some interesting, shorter races I can sink my teeth into and get me back to the trails--Pfalz Point 10 miler, Mountain Madness 25K, Bimbler's Bluff50K as sort of my focal race for fall, and Delaware Water Gap 50K fat ass in November. BB and PP will both be new for me, and I've been wanting to try out. Great that Garth and Paul and maybe Lesley will join for some or all.

I've been thinking for a while I will try to race BB all out, and train accordingly for it, including some taper. I've very seldom all-out raced a 50K, as they've always been steppingstone races to longer distances. But this time I can afford the luxury of doing that. And it looks like the kind of course where a PR is possible, and I might be able to fare decently in my age group.

So all that re-focussing brings back some renewed vitality to my training these past few days, and something to focus on the next couple months. I'm psyched! After getting out to Palisades for two glorious hours on my birthday, Sept. 1st, I managed to get up to Harriman for a run/swim/run on Labor Day, when I thought SOS was still in the cards. Yesterday we had our first little re-grouping of the training group, as Garth and Paul and I were enjoyed also by Steph Case, who is back in Manhattan and just happened to contact me out of the blue looking for people to train with this weekend.

I felt strong despite the humidity, and good on the climbs, out in the Palisades The trail muscle memory is back and I could let it go a little on the descents again--nice feeling! We covered 15.4 pretty rugged miles in 3:45, counting stoppage time, and it was a good challenge to keep up with Steph, though I'm sure she could have gone faster (and she was adding in miles on both ends of her run, as she ran the 14 or so miles back to downtown after we finished--wow!). I felt like I could have gone on for a couple more hours, which is a good feeling to have when you haven't been on your feet that long for a while!

Today I went out for a hoped-for 10 miles in the Park, as a sort of back to backer. Carried the GPS for a little "pace accountability"! As serendipity would have it, ran into superelite Glenn Redpath at mile 1.3 or so (14th at Western States this year). He said "run with me" to chat a bit, I managed to for about a mile before he surged ahead. But it really forced me into a decent pace I might not have otherwise gotten to on tired legs, and I was able to sort of stay within the 8:00-8:30 range for another 9 miles, finish a little under 8s, get in 11 miles in 1:30, and generally sort of treat it as a long tempo run. Thanks Glen!

So combined with the 9 or so on Friday mostly with Garth and in the Park and yesterday, it was a nice haul of 35 miles or so and maybe 6.5-7 hours on my feet over 3 days--sweet feeling! Especially with the very light schedule and days off with the time spent in the hospital (which probably had me feeling unsually fresh, I guess).

So now I've gotta keep re-tooling..add back in at least once weekly yoga (after giving up since spring for time) and getting back into weights twice a week (been lax this summer). As I cut back or cut out the swimming and biking and pick up the quality and focus of the mileage. Nice to be back to the focus of a single sport, and the one I know best!

Can't tell you how nice it feels to be back on the trails, and back into focusing on ultras, even if shorter than my usual focus! The multisport thing is fun and everything, but my heart is really out there in the woods and on the steep terrain. Like with the buck and wild turkey we saw yesterday. And the beautiful views we had out over the river. And the camaraderie of the woods! Nothing quite like it!

But there's also a new sense of longing to get back home and see my darling little daughter, not to mention relieve Esperanza who's been tireless so far on her maternity leave! Hopefully I can become more structured and efficient with my training time, especially once Esperanza goes back to work. I now marvel at the parents who are able to continue training and competing while keeping their priorities in order, and strive to become one of them!

Oh yeah, what's it feel like to be 50, Garth was asking yesterday? No different really, I guess. I think I've internalized it for a while and well before the day, and becoming a daddy finally took out any sting, and made it feel pretty secondary as a life change. Plus I feel healthy and reasonably fit and motivated. So I'm looking forward to the new decade of running...as a daddy! And many thanks to all the good friends who came out, on short notice, on the day to celebrate with me! It was really great, and Esperanza showing up by surprise with Mihiret was really the icing on the cake!

Many good times lie ahead, I'm feeling! It's great when positive life changes come in bunches! Let the 50s roll!

A Breakthrough at Bighorn (at Last!)

2011-06-26T20:26:00.000-07:00

Sweet glorious Bighorn! My muse. My nemesis. You've been at the center of this trail runner's imagination and aspirations for more than four years. With your stunning canyons. Raging rivers. Brilliant wildflowers. Velvety green mountain meadows. Forever climbs. Moonlit June nights. Three times you've let me partake of your wonders, only to prove unworthy of a 100 mile finish. But my respect and admiration for you only grew, as I knew you did not give of your fruits easily. This time, finally, I made the grade, and you let me into your secret garden, sweet Bighorn. And what a glorious feeling it is!

The Unique Bighorn Experience

The barebones of it are there in this year's results--a 34:20 finish. Surprisingly little drama, especially compared to my 2007, 2008, and 2010 attempts. I built a nice margin on the cutoffs, feeling strong and breathing well. Held up surprisingly well on the dreaded overnight. Gave back a good bit of that time in the second half and in the greater heat of day two. But I knew I had time so I stayed methodical, and allowed myself longer aid station breaks and luxuries like shoe and sock changes.  Very focussed on the moment, without allowing myself to get too excited, or too down during the difficult stretches.

In the end, it seemed somehow more "normal" and satisfying than exhilirating or overwhelming. "Oh yeah, this is how you're supposed to run a 100 miler like Bighorn--duh!" Why had it proved so elusive in the past? It felt different than I had imagined that magic moment of finishing Bighorn. No crying, or kissing the ground, or other theatrics. Just an immense, quiet feeling of satisfaction.  Finally, I had finished this magical race, which had started my 100-mile quest when I was still an ultra newbie. Finally, I had bagged a 100-mile finish in a big mountain Western race. Finally, I had also overcome the sophomore 100 mile jinx, notching my second 100 finish since my first at Iroquois Trails back in September 2008.

So, the real backstory was the years of struggle to get to this past weekend's finish. The three DNF's at Bighorn, timed out twice and once giving up with only ten minutes to spare on the cutoff with a third of the race left. Always at the Footbridge aid station, around mile 65, my nemesis. Always dispiriting. As were DNFs at other 100s along the way, and three 100 campaigns cut short before I even reached the starting line with last-minute injuries or fractures a month or so out. In the races I made it to, it was tomach problems here, getting lost and giving away time there, not fast enough to have any margin for error when something goes wrong--and it almost does in a 100 miler. But this time I had that margin. And nothing really did go wrong. And somehow along the way and over those years I never totally lost faith that I could, in fact, cover 100 miles, and even do so on a super-tough course like Bighorn. Faith? Or maybe just plain stubbornness!

Why keep going back there? Why not go do an "easy," "runable" course that plays more to the limitations of where I train in greater New York City? A sense of unfinished business doesn't really capture it. With Bighorn there is something special about the place that keeps drawing me back. It feels like an annual pilgrammage to a holy site, as silly as that sounds. My own mecca of trail running. My own chosen proving ground. The whole feeling of the race--the organization, the great friends I've made there, the wonderful volunteers, the unsurpassed natural beauty--bespeaks the grassroots community and backwoods intimacy that I so love about mountain ultra trail running. Everyone involved in the race shares a reverence for awesome course beauty and difficulty. It's a backwoods fraternity.

If you weren't worthy yet of Bighorn, if you only made it two-thirds of the way, you wanted to *become* worthy. I've met a number of people who've come back a couple times before getting that first finish.  It's more than just a race to check off your list. Or a round number of miles. It's a special place, a special community, and an intense experience you soak up, remember vividly, and look forward to all year. From the arrival in Billings on day one and awesome drive south, where you see the peaks of the Bighorns looming large as you cross from Montana into Wyoming. Through finishing the drop bag packing, checking in, and the pre-race pasta dinner at Ole's Pizza the next day. Then the pre-race briefing and socialization on race day, and immediately following the race the picnic and mingling by the awesome tongue river in Scott Park.   Watching the races of all the various distances (30k/50k/50m also) come in, a big party for family, friends, crew, and racers. I always went back to watch it, even when DNFing, being transported over the backroads by volunteers to the finish, and getting to go back to my hotel for a few hours to rest first. I wanted to know and see up close what it meant to finish. And honor the accomplishment of those who proved equal to the Bighorn challenge. And now I know what that means!

Oh yes, and then the culminating moment of the Bighorn experience, the day-after Sunday morning pancake breakfast in the central plaza of Sheridan, with each 100 mile finisher getting honored individually, and everyone swapping tales of the race before heading off. Yes, it's always been more than just a race, it's been an enveloping five-day experience in a gorgeous old West town and wild backcountry area. It simply doesn't get any better than this!

Highlights and Lowlights of My Race

* Redemption for Chip, too!: I was worried about him as he was visually struggling on the early climbs and admitted he was having a hip flexor issue. But he surged ahead, and every time I saw him on an out and back he was further ahead. He finished in 32:11, washing away his effort last year that ended after he valiantly struggled through 70-some miles after injuring himself early on in the race. Awesome job, Chip! You've got a big engine, a big heart, and the agility of a mountain goat! Ours is a friendship that actually began at last year's race, where we first met!

* My first major wildlife sightings at Bighorn (three of them!): On day one, a mule deer who chose not to run away through the woods. Instead s/he posed calmly for a photo, frozen by my presence! Then at around 4, 4:30AM, on the way back to Footbridge, I thought I was hallucinating as I ran alone--is that a horse I see running past me through the river a few feet away? No, shining my light, it's way too big, it's a moose, in full flight! Must have spooked him as I ran by and he was bathing or drinking. Then on day two, as I ran the dirt road back toward Upper Sheep Creek, what crosses 10-15 yards in front of me but a moose sow and her calf! They run into the woods before I can get my camera unhooked from my pack. Manage to get a couple photos of them amongst the trees.

*Weather: Surprisingly warm night (with many stars and a moon just past full), maybe in 40s. Too hot most of the time, I ran in just two layers, and tied the jacket around my waste, and uncovered my ears under the stocking cap. But on the more wind-exposed out and back to Spring Marsh, I donned the jacket. Quite warm on day two, maybe up to 80, but a very dry heat. As it's pretty exposed, was feeling a little sunburned, and overheated, at times, and got a little dry in the throat toward the end. But will take that over rain any time! Day one was quite windy at times, including a headwind, but I kind of liked the cooler temps, and sort of mix of sun and clouds. Was wearing a short sleeve, arm warmers, and lightweight Marmot windbreaker both days, but mostly just the short sleeve on day two. Changed clothes for night and then again for day two.

* Falls: Only three, despite all of the muddy sections and the dicey stream crossings on newly rigged "bridges" of logs with a rope handrail which were often quite slippery and muddy. None of them serious, fortunately. Thought of training partner Garth, who always rags me when there is a stream crossing, knowing my traumatic near fall and save from a white-water plunge my first year in 2007 ("Bighorn," he would shout at tricky crossings!).

* Missed turns: Only one, briefly corrected. Maybe added an extra third or so of a mile. Along with a dozen other people, and in the same spot where I witnessed a runner miss the turn last year (some folks never learn!). Between Upper Sheep and Cow Camp.

* Running solo: As usually occurs, I ended up keeping my own pace and running solo most of the time. Pretty much from Upper Sheep around mile 18 (?) onward. Including through the night, which is the one time when I sometimes prefer company (and clearly could have used it, given the section paces recorded below for the overnight!(). But there were enough folks around my pace, and enough out and back sections, that I never felt too alone. So it was just the right balance for me. I had tried to find a pacer, but in the end wasn't able to. So in the end this was my first "unpaced" 100 finish--yet another first! This is important psychologically--I often looked back and wondered if it was simply "the pacers would get me through" that accounted for the "anomaly" of my Iroquois finish. Yes, I learned this time, you can get through 100 miles by yourself! Maybe this is more suited to how I run in any case? Something to ponder...

*Alternate course helped: They announced the new course only four days before. In the end we probably did as much climbing as before. Just didn't go as high, peaking at 8,000 instead of 9,500. For me psychologically it was comforting to get in more miles before Footbridge going out, and another hour of running before darkness with the earlier start. And to not face going all the way up to Porcupine ranger station turnaround, a climb that seems to take forever in the night. On the other hand, we had the same long nighttime out and back from Footbridge to Spring Marsh, which is slow, often technical, and difficult, as we did on the 2008 alternate course. That time I fell apart and this time I didn't. Oh yeah--and the extra hour of cutoff obviously helped lower the stress of finishing. But I honestly think I could have made 34 hours had that been the cutoff. Why? I took extra time in a number of places (for shoe and sock changes, port-a-san break, to eat) in the second half knowing I had the cushion. And didn't push the mega-downhill of The Wall, or the section from Upper Sheep down to Tongue River Trailhead, knowing finishing didn't depend on it and even though I felt reasonably fresh. Didn't feel like trashing the legs. Still would have liked to break 34 hours, but I realized quickly once on the final dirt road section that I didn't have the turnover to run 12 minute miles. So I settled into a comfortable powerwalk, and ended up chatting with a 50 miler from Michigan for quite a while. It was nice to know I didn't have to rush to finish in plenty of time!

* Race organization and management: Stellar, as usual. Good choice with the alternate course (more doable than the course chosen in 2008 under similar conditions). The earlier start and extra hour made sense, given the uncertainty on course conditions (which in the end were probably better than anyone could have expected just a few days prior, after some drier and warmer days). Well marked as always. Good aid station offerings. Great volunteers (except, surprisingly, at Footbridge, where it seemed disorganized, no one offered you food or drink as you sat to go through dropbags, and the timekeeper had an "attitude"--I think they had a new group running it this year, as they've always been great in the past). Nice finisher awards (a buckle and a technical long sleeve), notwithstanding whatever Daniel Boone or whatever that guy's name is who posted ragging about them on Ultra list!

Things I Learned on the Way to a Bighorn Finish

* Acclimatization is good! Those twelve days spent in Ethiopia, up until one week before race day, really benefited me. I could feel it after a week there when going up to Entoto Mountain for the second time since my arrival (about 10,000'), on my last taper runs back in NYC and in Sheridan, and on that long first climb during the race. There was just more oxygen in those lungs, and more red blood cells to pump them! Finally, I got to run a race at altitude with some acclimatization!

* A radical taper and pre-race traveling aren't so bad: I managed to squeeze in just 9 runs in 14days (16 counting travel, none of them longer than 14 miles and most just an hour. And two quickie gym workouts and one swim. But it was high quality, including two faster treadmill runs, and the two mountain runs at Entoto on dirt roads. Quality over quality. Not really much time for stretching, either. But we were constantly on the go, ate well, and so I didn't feel the usual taper lethargy. And all the traveling and then all the adoption activities really distracted me in a good way from thinking much about the race for a couple weeks. Had I been home, I would have been *obsessing* about it! And I think I managed all the time-zone changes (nine time zones over the week before the race from Ethiopia to London to NYC to Wyoming) pretty smart--I immediately got on the local time, used Melatonin if I couldn't sleep or woke up in the night, and really focussed on getting quality sleep, including on the plane trips. I really felt physically and mentally rested and refreshed before the race, despite all the travel. A lesson to really take to heart!

* You don't have to go negative: I usually tend to get into negative downward mental spirals when things started going wrong. Somehow I avoided that and worked through the rough patches. I never got too high when things were going well, either. I tried to sort of break it down into sections, and focus on the moment. I was amazingly calm, relaxed. The stomach mostly held together well, and when it didn't I sucked a little ginger, and made timely pit stops. The toes got sore, but never intolerable, and the two shoe and sock changes gave me relief, and made a lot of sense given how mudcaked the shoes and gaiters became. I sort of did a tunnel vision thing to get through the heat, the sunburn, and the eye irritation. So all the stuff that might usually bring me down and ruin my race I just sort of took in stride and worked through. Got to react well, and be a sort of resourcesful problem-solver, as stuff always happens in a 100!

* A good balance in the winter/spring training buildup: Compared to the last couple years, I maybe did a little less as far as 50 mile/100K races--only one this time around (Bear Mountain) compared to three Jan-May last year and I think two the previous years. But I did the three tough 50Ks in Feb./Apr./May, the trail marathon in January, trained hard on the snow in the winter, did the two snowshoe races and the snowhoe training that built the legs, the New Hampshire mountaineering, the Catskill and Hike-A-Thong winter hikes, etc. So I think I built my endurance and leg strength well, maybe more than ever in the winter per se. And since I pretty much trained through the races I didn't go through the taper/race/recovery cycle that disrupts the training, and was able to get in a bunch of 24-28 mile training runs (maybe half a dozen) and maybe 3-4 back to backers where I got in around 40ish miles over two consecutive days. I didn't have quite as much as I was hoping for as far as mid-week hill workouts on trails or intermediate distance faster running in the 2-4 hour range (like the Rockefeller workouts). But for this type of course, the "strength" and endurance type of stuff was probably more important than the "speed" stuff. And I was pretty consistent this winter/spring with the speedwork, and did the one 10K trail race in April and one 5K snowshoe race in Feb. So, in the end, I guess I was lucky that I decided with the adoption news to bag The Old Goat 50m back in March. And not to stick with the Massanutten waitlist (maybe mid-May would have been too soon for a good 100m?). And it was dumb luck that the Ethiopia trip forced me to skip the more runable San Diego (with the tighter cutoff) for the more hikable Bighorn, which was best suited for how I've been training lately.

* Persistence pays off in pursuing really big goals. Let the race come to you: Deciding to start my 100 mile career with Bighorn, and especially with only maybe 4-5 ultras under my belt, was a little naive and headstrong! But I came close enough, and loved the experience enough, to know it was worth coming back for more. And more. And more! And I knew that I could make it 100 miles after Iroquois, and that if things came together a Bighorn finish was in the realm of possibility.

I think probably the accumulated experience of running ultras over the years really made me in the end a more seasoned runner this time around, and that paid off. I knew what to expect, what kind of adversity I'd encounter, what might prevent or overcome some of the problems. But I also didn't overthink it, which was really key. That's a major fault of mine with these types of races. In the end, it's really the mental part that's the last intangible in getting to the finish line in a 100. Ironically, it wasn't 2010 when I went to a sport psychologist to prepare for Bighorn when I made it. But this year. I'm sure I may have carried with me some of what I learned from those sessions. But I think in the end being a little more instinctive and reactive and in the moment helped me more than being too premeditated or having too rigid a plan. I kind of soaked up the experience, took my pictures, enjoyed the scenario, stayed in the moment, didn't get ahead of myself, and "let the race come to me." Yeah, that phrase just occurred to me, and it really think it sums up my experience very well--I let the race come to me! Stayed really low key.

Breakdown by Sections

Scott Park (3,950') to Tongue River Trailhead (4,240'), mile 5.1--Dirt road. Rolling and slightly uphill. 53:07. 10:24 pace. Felt good. Remembered to walk.

Tongue River TH to Fence Spring out (6,800') to Upper Sheep out (7,450'), mile 12.5--The Wall. Massive continuous uphill, somewhat rocky single track. Breathing felt good. Keeping pace. 2:16 (3:09 cumulative). 18:22 pace.

Upper Sheep to Head of Dry Fork #1 out (7,500'), mile 17.5--Rolling. Mostly jeep road. Pretty steady effort and reasonable pace. 1:22 (4:32:05 cumulative). 16:24 pace.

Dry Fork to Twin Buttes (8,000'), mile 21.0--Continuous uphill on mostly jeep road with some single track through creosote. Steady pace but feeling the effort. Windy and cooler. 1:07:09 (5:39:14 cumulative). 19:11 pace.

Twin Buttes back down to Dry Fork, mile 24.5--Back down the same way as up. Change of upper layers and reload of food from dropbag. 1:06: 05(5:39:14) 18:53 pace

Dry Fork to Cow Camp (6,400'), mile 30.5--Jeep road. Rolling. Sun coming out more. Mostly feeling good, keeping good pace. 1:31:05 (8:16:25 cumulative) 15:11 pace

Cow Camp to Bear Camp (6,800'), mile 37.5--Beautiful up and down single track, some forested, some from canyon to canyon through creosote and with great views of rocky outcrops. Saw a mule deer cross the path ahead of me. Instead of disappearing into the woods, it was still there when I get got there--and froze long enough to "pose" for two pics! 2:04:38 (10:21:03 cumulative) 17:48 pace

Bear Camp to Footbridge (4,500'), mile 41.0--Favorite section. Forested twisting techical single track with sustained descent. Passed 4-5 folks in this section. Feeling great. Getting to Footbridge before nightfall. Turned on headlamp just before aid station. 1:28:36 (11:49:40 cumulative) 25:18 pace, includes long aid station break to change to night clothes, reload food, etc.

Footbridge to Cathedral Rock (5,300'), mile 44.5-- Technical, winding, rocky section by the roaring river. First overnight section. Hard to hear yourself think at times. Some trouble getting adjusted to the night after the long aid break. Needed to peel off the outer layer, and uncover the ears under my stocking cap. Also some eye irritation from campfire/aid station smoke and maybe insect repellent. But then settled into a decent climbing rhythm. 1:16:14 (13:05:55 cumulative) 21:47 pace (includes long aid stop with drop bag)

Cathedral Rock to Spring Marsh race turnaround (7,200'), mile 50.3--Stars and near-full moon increasingly visible as we move out of the narrow canyon and head upwards. Continued windy, somewhat technical single track. Climbing with a pretty good rhythm, passing some folks. Colder as we move into a section farther from river and with wider canyon walls. So I put the outer Patagonia jacket back on, and pull the ski cap down over the ears. Seems like it takes forever to reach the turnaround, and see Chip and many others on the rebound. Big hug from Chip! He seems to be moving great! Into halfway mark at around 15:30, slower than goal of 14:30-15:00 but still faster than some of my 50 mile times at Zane Grey or Jemez Mtn.!. Smoke from fire at aid station bothered me, so I ate my soup quickly and got out of there. 2:27:26 (15:33:20 cumulative, now 1:33AM) 25:25 pace

Spring Marsh back to Cathedral Rock in (5,300'), mile 56.3--Back downhill from the more open section and back into the forest and toward the river. Keeping an eye out as I don't wait to be startled by anyone passing (one or two do). Moving pretty well considering nighttime. Somewhere around here took next Advil and caffeine dose (did that about every 5 hours throughout race). 2:16:38 (17:49:59 cumulative) 22:41 pace

Cathedral Rock back to Footbridge in (4,500'), mile 59.8--Section of the startles! First I think it's a horse running by me through the river in the pre-dawn. No, it's a huge moose! Must have spooked it as it was drinking or bathing in the river. Fortunately, it ran the opposite way, and didn't see it till it was behind me and at a good distance. Then the Italian couple (I thought they were French maybe at the time but later learned otherwise) totally startled me in one rocky section. I nearly jumped out of my skin, and he apologized profusely in his limited English. A few other menacing forms prove to be optical illusion on closer inspections. See a couple of mice (moles? pikas?) running in front of me on the path. 1:51:01 (19:41:01) 28:51 pace Wow, did I really slow down that much here? Part of that is my longest aid station break, as I changed to daytime clothes, changed shoes and socks/sock liners (to my Montrail Continental Divide GTXs), shed the lights, grabbed food from dropbag...and also did the required weigh-in (weight was actually right around the pre-race 165, which is 10 pounds over my actual weight) and chowed down quickly on same food there. With no aid from volunteers to speed things along....Great to be out of Footbridge--my old nemesis where my first three Bighorns ended-- with about *three* hours on the cutoff! I'm gonna finish this baby!

Footbridge in to Bear Camp (5,300'), mile 66.3: Not my favorite section as an uphill in early morning hours. Dawns on me that it's going to be a long second day and no piece of cake! Lots of eye irritation for a couple miles after the smoke at aid station. Feeling ok at first, but working harder as climbs get steeper. Mother nature beckons, as do the woods! Start seeing the first 50 milers zoom by, looking such fresh! In the first third or so of the pack, Jeremy, my pacer from last year, zooms by, looking fresh and saying Hi. The dude has clearly been training a lot since last year, when trail running was seemingly new to him as an avid outdoor guy. Can he keep that pace, I wondered? (In the end, he could, as a he posted a great finish and time--way to go, Jeremy! Missed the company this year!) 1:46:39 (21:27:40 cumulative) 30:28 pace (my slowest section, on the dreaded "climb out of Footbridge" everyone had warned me about and I got my first taste of!)

Bear Camp to Cow Camp (6,400'), mile 70.3--Mostly single track, with good amount of climbing and then descending. Getting warmer now. Working pretty hard in this section. Nice to finally get some downhills. Pass the 50K'ers zooming by and turning around at the stock tank just past Cow Camp. As with 50 milers earlier, their shouts were encouraging as they realized you were a 100 miler. And it was easier to pass them in opposite directions, than to deal with the constant overtaking of 50m runners the second morning that takes place on the usual course, which is quite distracting as you have to look back and to step out of the way. It was an emotional boost, as it was to see Diane toward the end of the 50K pack, who stopped to give me a big hug! She seemed to be taking her time and enjoying the race. 2:27:27 (23:55:08) 21 minute pace

Cow Camp to Head of Dry Fork #3 in (7,500'), mile 76.3--A double-track/jeep road section. Pretty warm now, but as I didn't apply sunscreen to my arms, I didn't want to roll up the arm warmers. I was conscious here (and rest of way) that I couldn't generate turnover and knee lift to actually run, but really was left with shuffling and powerwalking. So even older and back of packer 50Kers were moving by me. I was aiming to get this section in 18-19 minute miles, but barely managed just under 20 if you discount the aid station time. Really starting to feel the heat in this long, exposed section with lots of gradual uphill. 2:10:30 (26:05:39, now 12:05PM), 21:45 pace

Dry Fork up to Twin Buttes (8,000'), mile 79.8--Chip was coming in to Dry Fork as I was heading out, and we exchanged a hug and photo opp. Wow, he's really moved ahead (like seven miles!), or have I just fallen back that much? On the dirt road and then brief single track uphill, I was conscious of needing to pick up the pace a little. Passed a few folks. But this section seems to take forever. Could it really be the same one we had run yesterday afternoon? It seemed SO much longer! This section is a little cooler, as you go higher and get a bit more wind. That part I appreciated, as Dry Fork was not quite hot and dusty. Eyes are really bothering me as I approach aid station. Combo of sunblock running plus aid station smoke? 1:24:04 (27:29:43 cumulative) 24:00 pace

Twin Buttes back down to Dry Fork (7,500'), mile 83.3--Why can I only shuffle, even when moving downhill? Still, I'm keeping a decent pace, compared to those around me. I'm feeling good, but it seems my legs are too heavy to move as fast as I feel like I should. I see on the way down there are still a number of runners behind me, which I take some encouragement from. Back at aid station, take my time to hit the portasan (the juices are flowing again), change shoes/socks/liners/gaiters to my lightest pair, my Vasque Blur non-GTX, and reload food, all for the finally section as this was the last dropbag access. A little slow moving, but I think I enjoyed the chair time, and especially the brief shade. Lots of commotion as runners ask about if they need to check in when they get back from Twin Buttes, which of the remaining aid stations have hard cutoffs, and ask about remaining runners who haven't made it to Dry Fork #3 yet. 1:34:35 (29:04:19, now 3:04PM) 27 minute pace, including long aid stop

Dry Fork to Upper Sheep (7,450'), 88.3 miles--The feet felt light on the climb leaving Dry Fork--these non-GTX Vasques are a full three oz. per shoe lighter than the Montrails! Feeling like I've got to hustle as I'm not entirely sure what the cutoff is at Upper Sheep or if there is a hard cutoff there (someone was saying 5:00 or 5:30 PM, but nothing was marked on the preliminary contingency pace chart I was carrying). After I pass by a couple folks on the forest service road, a woman, a guy, and then a couple with poles each speed by me. Apparently everyone is infected by a certain urgency, or just can smell the finish! Along this road is where I see a moose sow and her calf run across and into the woods. I can't get my camera off my pack quick enough to catch them crossing, but they are still lingering in the woods and I get two pics from a distance. Pretty cool, but not time to linger! I move pretty well, but still pretty much shuffling to power walking, and we get into that station at 4:37. The section tends downward most of the way but goes back up sharply then only to drop again just before the aid station. It's quite warm in this section. 1:33:02 (30:37:23 cumulative) 18:36 pace

Upper Sheep via Lower Sheep (5,025') down to Tongue River Trailhead (4,240'), mile 95.7--What goes up (on the way out) must go down (on the way back)! But it's confusing because what awaits you right out of Upper Sheep is a long and steep climb up to what must be the peak elevation of the course at or just past 8,000. Only then do you start the long haul down The Wall. I was feeling good at the top of it, and decided to let loose a little on the steep, windy, somewhat technical descent down the meadow, passing by one pair of runners. I was trailed by a woman. At a certain point, when I thought I was further down than I was, I decided to back off. I was a little worried about trashing my legs, and also there was enough loose scree and it was steep enough that I was a little nervous of doing a faceplant that might mess up my finish. It seemed to take foreever and you had to really focus in order to descend slowly and safely. Wow, did we really climb this this thing yesterday. This is definitely the longest continuous descent I've ever encountered in a race. A good 2,800' over maybe 6 miles. Once we were down to Lower Sleep aid (where I forgot to hit the watch), I mistakenly thought we only had like 10 minutes down to the trailhead, and the dirt road that would take us out of Tongue River Canyon. I remarked to a couple runners (who zoomed by with urgency on the somewhat less steep but very windy and pretty rocky single track toward the bottom) that I had no recollection of covering all this territory on the way out. I gained renewed appreciation for how far we really had parallel the river and moved back into the canyon before we headed seriously up on day one. Anyway, once I realized this section had a ways to go, I tried to pick it up a little, and glide it down a little, but I was a little beat and my downhill form not so great. I really just wanted to be down on the road and the home stretch! Very happy to finally see the path bottom out and the volunteers down by the river! 2:16:21 (32:53:44, now 6:32PM) 16:50 pace

Tongue River Trailhead via Homestretch (4050') to Finish in Scott Park (3,950'), mile 100.8--I calculated as I started that if I ran maybe 12 minute miles I could break 34 hours. But as several runners who could still run zoomed by on the road, I realized my shuffle wasn't really a run and wouldn't get it done. And it didn't really matter to me that much, except that I really just wanted to be done at that point. So I started working in more walking, and pretty soon settled down to just powerwalking. The sun was very hot and low in the sky, and the dirt road (with some scattered residences once you get outside the canyon and I guess the national forest boundaries) seems to roll on forever. I had a nice chat with a guy from Michigan who was finishing the 50 miler, along with a couple relatives who were pacing/crewing. The nice folks who put on a little aid station at the end of their driveway gave us popsicles and some other cold drink. I kept thinking about what my finish would look and feel like. By that point it felt a little more matter of fact rather than something that would be dramatic or emotional. I guess since I had known pretty much all day that I would finish. I was able to break back into a trot from the time we crossed the bridge into Dayton and passed the elk statue where we had started. There were cheers as I guess they announced my name as a 100 miler coming in to finish. It was a relief to cross that finish line under a bright late afternoon sky, at 8:20PM! At long last, my first Bighorn finish!

The first person to congratulate me was Rob, who had run the 50K and was still waiting for Diane to finish the 50m (she would come in some 20 minutes later). It was really good to see a familiar face, and to get back to that familiar place at (the finally apted named!) Scott Park, where I had stood and watched so many others finish after my own DNFs in '07, '08, and '10, wondering what it would feel like. It felt...well...good...satisfying...like the successful end of a long journey! (last section: 1:26 (34:20) 16:52 pace)

Out: 15:33:20
In: 18:46:40

P.S. I love you, Bighorn! Always did--and do even more now! You're one of a kind!

Peak Snowshoe Half in Vermont

2011-03-06T21:08:00.000-08:00

Well, I finally broke three hours! Just didn't think it would come in a snowshoe race, or a *half* marathon--or that I'd be so proud of that kind of time for a "mere half"! But hey, this one was a KILLER, and it was my second ever in this category (both in the space of three weeks)! Based on a trail map, it looks like we ascended from the trailhead at about 1,050 or 1,100' up to South Hill at 2,065, then back down. Then we repeated the whole thing again. So you can break the half into four "quarters"--up to the summit, down to the finish area, back up to summit, back down to finish. All on a lollipop course with a short "stem" where the only common section is the first and last half-mile of each loop.

The climb ranged from steep to gradual, and the descents got to a be a bit hairy at times and I really had to concentrate on foot placement and braking, occasionally letting faster descenders go ahead and making sure I didn't lose it as I felt myself "skiing" (I *don't* ski, and once dislocated a shoulder trying to learn, also in the great state of Vermont!). The only real flat sections were brief sections of maybe half a mile at the top/bottom of each loop on this "lollipop" course. Generally, the snow was well packed down, and a little soft on top as it was a few degress above freezing.

What can I say, I haven't done a road marathon or any kind of comparable all-out effort for that period of time for like five years since I switched to ultras--a lot different than a lower intensity effort for a longer period. The first loop on the climb I saw my heart rate was hitting 160 and then creeping up to like 168 on steeper sections, as I was in the middle of a "conga line" of about 7 guys. I found it mentally exhausting to be sucked into other people's pace and stepped off to allow them to pass, deciding I couldn't keep that pace for another 10-11 miles. In the end, I think it was a good move, as I settled into a pretty even effort in the 150-160 range the rest of the race, stepping it up the last couple miles downhill and the flats toward the finish to break three. It was a struggle, but I was real pleased to make it and be able to finish strong! I felt like my legs were going to fall off! And mentally I found snowshoe racing on steep single track is RELENTLESS. In terms of the sheer combination of effort and concentration it requires to keep moving forward with some semblance of coordination and efficiency! You have to focus on every step, even more than in normal trail running and even more than on technical trails.

Based on quickly studying previous year's results, I told Esperanza to expect me somewhere between three and four hours total, finishing the first of two identical loops somewhere around 1:30-1:45. As it turns out, they had changed the course somewhat (apparently making the downhills a little steeper, and probably cutting some distance as I came up with more like 12 miles on my Garmin--but I'm not complaining!). Folks who did it last year were all reporting faster times, as apparently the snow conditions were also better. Anyway, she had time to go back to the inn for breakfast after watching me start, get back to watch me come through the first time and take more pics , go back again to surf the web, and then return for the finish!

The scenery was beautiful, as we were in a pine forest, at times dense like in one very cool section called the "Labyrinth," and we topped out on a hilltop with an aid station with a gorgeous view looking down toward the town and the start/finish at Amee Farm.   The village of Pittsfield is in a narrow valley with steep peaks on either side. Very quaint and New Englandy, and only about 10 miles from Killingston ski area.

The half started simultaneously with the full marathon (four loops) and one-loop 10K "fun run". The 100-milers (of which there were four) started at noon the day before and were still going. Still no official results so not sure on finishes but I think there were like 75 entered in the half, 55 in the 10K, and 50 in the marathon, something like that. Many of the l0K "fun run" folks were local college or high school runners and the 10K'ers yellow numbers stood out. But it was hard to tell easily who was in which distance out there, as they simply hand-wrote "half" on numbers that were otherwise identical to the marathon. So my "conga line" experience had a mixture of all three distances. Many were out there just for a good outdoor experience, and there were quite a few using poles (including a few of the faster folks).

Unfortunately, you couldn't focus on the scenery at all, as you really had to zero in on your footing and effort. The snow alongside the trail was 2-4 feet deep and a few times I fell sidewise into it before I would right myself, and there were lots of close calls, including on one of the narrow "bike planks" crossing little streams you had to swiftly cross.

Generally speaking, I seemed to be strong on the climbs, and could hold my own or gain ground or pass folks. While I'm usually good with trail descents, my lack of ski experience meant I was afraid to open it up on the steeper downs, and some faster ascenders would zoom by me as I stood aside on the single track to let them pass. Definitely something I need to work on, as none of the trails I trained on this winter had sections that steep (the Catskills did, but that was pure hike!). Also, the descents were a little gullied, so you had to do some high-steeping too, though I did find the going better and was a little less gunshy the second time through.

I knew after I left the start/finish aid station at 1:28 at the end of loop one that if I could hold pace I could break three hours. With my less breakneck pace on the long up section till we reached the "summit" the second time around (the third quarter of the race), I saw I only had like 35 minutes to make it back down--the same section that had taken me like 36 or 37 minutes the first time around. In the end, pushing those downhills, and then cutting loose on the last mile of more rolls and flats with a few last short hills, somehow I did the last quarter of the race like in about 33 minutes.   Good thing I was eating and drinking regularly and popping Endurolytes every half hour as I was right on the verge of cramping and bonking!

Neither of the last two people I'd been jockeying with and who passed me on the last big downs was in sight, nor was there anywhere nearby behind me to push me. But by then it was all about seeing the finish and knowing there was one last swithback up to the finish area and calculating whether I could make it under the three-hour mark! Very pleased when I saw I had it in the bag and could back off ever so slightly! Beside the 5th place showing on the computer screen at the finish for males 40-49 (for all I know out of 5!), I saw I was in like 28th place overall. But again, no official results posted yet.

I've got to say, the event was a blast, and it was a lot of fun meeting new people. In the end Lisa from our list didn't go (scared off by the weather, or maybe with too much work!). Despite nasty forecasts in previous days, the serious rains held off till Sunday, and even the marathoners only got sprinkled on, unlike a couple previous years that were nasty from what I hear. For the half it was cloudy, mid to upper 30s, and the sun even briefly peaked out from behind the clouds (sorry, Lisa!).

The folks we met were other runners staying at the Swiss Farm Inn, just 1/10 of a mile from the start (how sweet!). The owner Roger, himself a trail runner, was up by 5AM to make us breakfast for the 8AM start--awesome! Then he and his wife Joyce did a great dinner for all of us, and the "world's best breakfast" (as they call it without much exaggeration) this morning before we all took off. Wonderful!   Got to hang with a bunch of nice folks from the Albany area and Connecticut who are part of the WMAC scene, and then a bunch of younger folks from Manhattan and Queens. Yep, city folks doing a snowshoe race and meeting for first time in Vermont--how cool!

Also met some nice folks from Toronto at the Casa Bella inn down the way where we had dinner a delicious Italian dinner the night before. Part of a large contingent of Canadians who come down for the race. Also, the Snowshoe Challenge is part of a series of "extreme" events put on by series organizer Andy in that area, including a 53 mile trail race (with shorter options) in June, the Death Race Lisa did last year (and a winter version of it was taking place during our event with guys hauling wood and rocks up the mountain!), a multi-challenge Spartan race, etc.

What are you guys waiting for? They even rent snowshoes for the race! I'm definitely going back. Maybe for the marathon next time! Though I frankly couldn't have imagined going out for another loop, let alone two, as spent and wasted as my whole body and mind felt after that one! Snowshoe racing will rock your world!

And to think I used to wonder why I'd read those articles in running magazines about what great "winter cross training" snowshoe running can be! Cross training my %&^*!

Masochist and Hellgate: Making Sense of Senseless DNF's

2011-01-11T20:11:00.000-08:00

I could sort of rationalize the Masochist thing, with missing the cutoff by like 9 minutes at mile 42. I knew going in I would be slower than in '08 or especially '09, and that I didn't have enough quality training time post-toe fracture and post-Rainier and -half Ironman to really feel well prepared. But I had the comfort of knowing Hellgate was the bigger prize, and that I would have five more weeks to train. Surely the 42 miles at Masochist would also be a great training run. So after allowing a little more recovery time than last year (a lesson from '09) I got back in and did a couple of confidence-boosting 8-hour runs, each followed or preceded by 2-2.5 hour run as back to backers. That plus a good 16-day taper should have left me well prepared for Hellgate.

But things just went awry early, and I missed the cutoff at AS#4 (official mile 22.5 and Garmin mile 24.9) by something like 13 minutes. From the start I was near the back, though I thought my pace was decent based on my Garmin pace and HR feedback. I was happy to get through the dreaded deep water section at 3.5 pretty dry, as the water was maybe just past ankle deep and I only had to take a step or two through it, which the Seal Skinz, GTX shoes, and gaitors seemed to shield my feet from. Only downer was I dropped my flashlight somehow as I put in one of my pack front packets to concentrate on the water. So I was down to just the headlamp, but seeing just fine.

At Aid Station 1 around mile 4, Iliana and another runner passed me as they moved through more quickly. Only one runner behind me, I believe I heard them say, and I think he came in just as I left after a quick cup of Gatorade. On the "up, up, up" section of windy, steadily steep dirt road that came next and took us to AS4, they slowly seemed to pull away. I tried running brief sections, but starting coming to the conclusion that was counterproductive in terms of the effort and stress on the legs. I remembered how doing that at Masochist had seemingly cost me in terms of having the legs to be able to run well the downhills. So I focused on just trying to get in a good powerwalking mode. I remember thinking in this or one of the later endless climb sections that I wish I had done post-Masochist some of the treadmill hills and long Palisades hill run repeats I had done back in October and earlier in the year. I had pretty much relied on the dose of hills in my long and medium-long runs at the Palisades and Bear Mtn./Harriman to get me through. Worries about some adductor/groin tenderness had kept me away from their those hill workouts (or the "hill tempo" runs mid-week at Rockefeller in fall '09) or from the kind of weekly gym strength workouts at the gym I had been doing earlier. Big mistake! But I thought I was being kind to legs that were on the edge of injury, so these things are always tough to call and hindsight is 20/20, as they say!

Anyway, I don't remember the section to Aid #3 (around mile 12 ???) as well, but there was more single track and downhill, and I remember being happy about that. Legs felt pretty good. Pace was ok but not spectacular. I was still in next to last (as best I could tell), with a guy in front of me I could sometimes make the headlamp of, and one behind whom I could see from time to time, and who came in to AS#3 just as I was leaving. I checked my pace card, and I was out of the station like 15 minutes under the advisory cutoff, and only 2 minutes under Darin's 2005 pace, when he had finished in 17:48. So I really knew I had to boogie in the next section if I was to salvage my race.

The long section up to AS #4 at Headforemost Mountain proved to be my undoing. I tried to pick it up on the initial climbs, and my watch was showing me getting back into the 15-16 mpm pace and I felt briefly like I was putting distance on the guy behind me. I was really focused on not letting him pass me, and pretty much sensed my race would be over if I was left struggling in DFL place. I know my HR was getting up into 140s and maybe even briefly 150s. My sense from last year at races like Bandera is I can't really sustain anything past the 130s for long stretches of an ultra, without paying a big price later. Only thing is, the kind of pace I was generating for a given HR was slower than what I would expect to be doing. I was starting to feel winded and like I had to go back to a powerwalk from a powershuffle. And I was starting to feel that bilateral tightness/heaviness in the outer glutes just above the hips and buttocks that has kind of been my nemesis the last few falls, and was what I felt at Masochist after the long hills. I wanted to be able to turn over faster, but the legs weren't responding. And I wasn't feel particularly frisky with my footing, and was starting to wish I had brought the Microspikes and been able to strap them on. (I had left them at the start in my dropbag in a last-minute decision, based on advice from some people and Horton in the pre-race message, plus seeing scant sign of serious snow around the start and on the drive in to the start.) And I was feeling the rocks more than I should, wishing that maybe I hadn't worn the Seal Skinz over the Injinji liners, as they are much thinner than my normal SmartWoods. But felt too pressed for time to stop and change into the Smart Wools in my pack, as had been my original plan for after my feet would get wet at mile 3.5 Should have stuck to the plan even though the fet didn't get wet, in order to be comfortable.

The guy kept getting close, and the glare of the headlamp from behind me shining in front of me was really kind of getting to me. I was cursing the guy under my breath, and myself. I had seen him and he was maybe in his 60s, and sort I felt like, "if I can't hold this guy off, I'm toast". Well, sure enough! I was struggling so hard mentally and physically to keep him at bay, that I literally stopped for a few seconds to usher him through on the double track. I didn't want to be "the hunted" any longer! But I thought, ok, now you have to stick with this guy, staying close behind. But I couldn't, physically, as he pulled away steadily. I've never really been good mentally at staying with someone who has passed me. I kind of naturally crave space and not being encumbered by someone else's pace, whatever the race or distance or suface. But in this case it was a tendency I needed to resist, as I knew falling behind would be fatal.

I guess you could say I basically cracked, once I fell into last place. It was depressing. Suddenly everything hurt me more, and I felt my focus and even muscle control fade. The lift I had gotten from a Vivarin tablet seemed to have faded. Memories of Masochist and of way too many 100 mile DNFs flooded in. It was 4 Am or so, I felt cold even though it was balmy for that time of year, and suddenly I was aware a lot of rustlings in the woods, and getting a little spooked. I'm going to be out here a long time by myself, I thought. I tried to somehow muster the mental and phsysical energy to make a charge, but the windy technical terrain with slippery snow made for slow going and I longed again for my Microspikes. Another one of those dreaded downhill spirals of negativism set in, and became a self-fulfilling prophesy. Here I go again. I had slowed from 16 or 17 mpm to 20-22. A sure recipe for missing the next cutoff.

After that, it was just a slog. Kept checking my watch, and calculating how long I had till the 6:40 cutoff. The section just went on foreover, as we had been forewarned. I could here yelps behind me of a runner and maybe a pacer, being followed slowly by a vehicle. Didn't want them to pass me, so at least that kept me from slowing further. Turns out, I learned later, they were the sweeps, the dreaded hangmen. Probably just keeping a respectful distance. Once I realized I was past the cutoff without the AS in sight, there was a certain sense of relief. I knew what I couldn't face again was fighting a losing battle with cutoffs from early in the race, as I had for 20 miles or more at Masochist. I fought the good fight there for an extended period, but it was deflating after charging through a tough single track loop there to learn the time alloted to the next aid station was totally unrealistic. The volunteers were already packed up and ready to go, and when they said I had missed the cutoff, I said something about "thanks for the mercy killing". Gallows humor! I was about 13 minutes over the revised cutoff, which had been moved back 10 minutes as they moved the AS .5 miles back from its previous location in years past.

Anyway, I'm finishing this post with a good sense of distance now, in January. Start of a new year and decade, and feels like I'm off to a good start, with the training and with a trail marathon already under my belt. So don't want to dwell too much on the past. But definitely want to learn from it. I guess I'd have to attribute the negative experiences of Hellgate and Masochist to a combination of three things: (1) rushing back too early to race distances after the Aug./Sept. hiatus/parenthesis; (2) being inadequately trained as far as medium distance and hills and hill muscles; and (3) mentally not being in the right place. I think maybe my confidence was at an ebb, though I'm not entirely sure why. Mountain Madness and the training run in Boston the following weekend didn't really boost my confidence, and instead were a bit of an omen of things to come, and of not being in the kind of shape I was in fall 2009 for Masochist. Live and learn, so let's close the books on 2010, ok?

All in all, the first five months were really fulfilling, with Bandera, Old Pueblo, Miwok, and Bear Mountain. Bighorn in June I gave my all, though I'd love a "do-over" without the 6-day layoff 2 weeks out with that hip thing. Note to self: No more stupid stunt like a 100k/50K back to back weekend double that close to a 100. Just asking for trouble! RATs was a cool experience, though I treated it mentally as a buildup for Wasatch, and made the call to hold back the last two days and hang with Miles, which made it more fun. And carried way too much weight, so that's an important lesson. Came back from that and was in such good "mountain condition" for the push to Wasatch...and then the toe thing happened.

That kind of put a damper on the rest of the year, running-wise. But at least I made the most of the cross-training and got the first half-Ironman under my belt, and the qualifying time for SOS--and then got in it for 2011! Always a goal of mine to get in, and circumstance put me in the position to be half-trained for a a qualifier, and glad I stuck to my guns and followed through as I wavered a little close to the event. As it was right on the heels of Rainier. First ever half-IM, and first tri in like three years!

Rainier was a good experience, and really cemented the desire to go deeper into mountaineering. Whetted my appetite for more, getting that close to the summit only to be turned back by conditions out of my control. I showed myself I had the perseverance, the stamina, decent enough technical skills, and yes enough courage to face the strong fear of heights and falling to actually tackle something that is way out of my comfort zone--but that comfort zone is still *expanding*, and I'm almost 50. How many folks can say that? Anyway, gotta make a point of continuing to push back those limits.

Alright, enough of the pep talk, trying to put as positive a spin as possible on a year that had as many disappointments as accomplishments and successes. Hopefully in the end the scale of the disappointments is only proportional to the scale of the ambitions and expectations. But going to try to keep the ambitions and expectations high, and direct them to new and exciting goals, and just try to keep it new and fresh in 2011. Go with the flow, and enjoy the ride!

Better Safe than Sorry: Adventures on Mt. Rainier

2010-10-26T19:39:00.001-07:00

A much delayed report, but here's what I remember, about a month later....

Well, skipping right to the climax of the story, we got to about 12,400' or so, only to have to turn back due to unacceptable avalanche danger. Our outstanding guides from RMI made the right call. But it was still disappointing. Especially since my original journey in mid-August was postponed due to my broken toe, and the weather would have allowed for a summit then. It was only the second trip up of 25 or more for our head guide, Brent Okita, over the summer of 2010 that didn't result in a summit for him and at least part of his party. But them's the breaks!

Day 1: The 8 of us assembled at RMI headquarters about 20 minutes outside the park for the orientation and gear check with Brent. Turns out I'm with a group of 5 anasthesiologists from Chicago along with a friend of one of theirs from Florida. And then there is a separate group of equal size, composed of mostly women, with a different head guide. Then I went on to the Paradise Inn within the Park where I was staying. Beautiful and convenient location, right at the base where our climb would start. But oh did those mice keep me up each night! Can't believe what a casual attitude the Inn had when I finally complained!

Day 2: Climbing school on the mountain. In the rain and sleet. And wind. It's as if the stuff I learned a year and a half ago in NH had all faded. Even the self-arrest techniques seemed different somehow from what I remembered. And I don't feel so comfortable on the downhill stuff. Very tentative. A cold, strenuous day. I can see at least one guy from the Chicago group is going to have issues with the climb. Overweight, but seems determined to give it a go.

Day 3: We start out from Paradise at a little over 5,000' around 9AM. A clear day, and I can see high up the mountain for the first time since I arrived, even though I've been staying at its foot all this time!

First hour or so is strenuous hiking, as we are carrying full loads with 40 pounds or so. I notice the one Chicago guy is breathing heavy, using the compression breathing technique they taught us, but all the time. Seems ok at the first rest break, but shortly thereafter I learn he has had to turn back and walk down with one of the four guides accompanying us. I admire him for trying. I've forgotten his name, but he was a funny guy, with a racey and cynical sense of humor.

I believe we had another three breaks on the way up, the latter three all being in the snow. Today was strenuous hiking with trekking poles carrying heavy loads, and fairly substantial wind. Breaks would come about every hour for about 10 minutes, to put on layers, eat and drink, go to bathroom, and then de-layer as we resumed the climb. Barely time to do all that, remove and put back on gloves, and take the occasional photo. After getting caught a little bit back in the single file line, I managed to move up more toward the middle, and you could tell the group started to string out a little as some of the guys labored more with the growing slope. Some of these guys may have some trouble tomorrow, I thought to myself.

After I think about 5 hours, maybe a bit more, we reached Camp Muir at just over 10,000'. Beautifully situated on a rocky outcrop looking down the mountain whence we ascended on one side, and down into a crevasse field marked with flags (wands I believe they call them) and up the slopes that awaited us on the other. Gorgeous views of a variety of surrounding peaks in Washington and Oregon, like Hood, Mt. St. Helens, etc. We settled into the plywood bunkhouse, prepared our camping meals, ate, took pictures, and had a briefing on the summit attempt ahead. We were in bed by about 6:30. A couple guys were looking DOA already once we arrived at Muir, one complaining of a headache. Both almost immediately jumped into their sleeping bags to sack out. Not a good sign...

The wind was howling (gusting to maybe 30mph), guys were snoring, the anticipation was high, they were going to awaken us around 12:30-1Am.... and the Diamox was forcing me out into the cold to the outhouse a couple times. Needless to say, don't think I got even a wink of sleep! This on top of two nights of lousy sleep due to the incessant patter of little mice feet in my room at Paradise Inn. Not exactly feeling fresh for the summit push, but the excitement and nervousness are at their peak!

Day 4: They wake us at 1AM, and it's a mad rush to eat breakfast, drink coffee, take care of bathroom needs, and pack up our summit gear. Not so easy to do the latter, with the howling wind and freezing temps, as we had to leave our packs and crampons and such outside the hut. I'm paired with Eric, a lawyer from Tennessee, and guide Andy, on a rope team. From here on up we'll be roped up. Crevasses, rock fall and ice fall potential, serious hazards for novice climbers! One of the Chicago contingent stays behind at camp, so it's three rope teams, each with a guide, and six climbers. We depart aroudn 2:15, under a moonlit, starry sky. But boy is it windy!

The section up to the first rest stop skirts around crevasses on a marked route, and includes two ladder crossings. The ladders were covered by boards, and one also had a rope handrail, and in the dark it wasn't too bad to just move quickly across them, one by one of course. The grade varied, but was constantly up. It really got steep as we got to the infamous and tricky Disappointment Cleaver, which I believe came between the second and third rest stops. Footing was tricky because the route hadn't been travelled that much since the recent snows (as recently as two days ago) and because of the winds. They gusted up to maybe 40mph, and were blowing us around a little, including Andy. As we wound our way up the 15 to 30 degree slopes of the Cleaver in particular, it took all my concentration to focus on so much new stuff at once--keeping the right distance from Andy as I was second, trying to follow his tracks and kick in good steps, switching the ice axe to the uphill hand each time we switchbacked., and trying to pressure breathe with all the aerobic exertion so as to avoid breathing too fast and hard. It demanded so much concentration, and so much effort, that there was no time for smalltalk, no time to really look around and take it all in, but also no time to really get scared of how exposed we were. Survival mode. If it were daytime and I were alone or we were going slower, I would have had plenty of time to be petrified!

In the steeper and more dangerous sections, we were short roped. We hadn't really practiced that much, and I didn't realize that you're supposed to also keep the same "smiley-faced" slack with the rope between you and your team leader barely touching the ground and not taut, just like with normal rope travel. When Andy expressed some concern if I was lagging, I explained I didn't know how I was supposed to handle short roping pacing. I also said something cheeky when he inquired if I was up for continuing like, "If I can run 100 miles, I can do this! I'm fine!" That was around the point where they said, "if you have any second thoughts, this is the spot where you turn around, as you're now committed." That was the second or maybe third rest stop. I forgot to note also that well before even the first rest stop, two of the Chicago guys turned back, meaning there were just two of the original six contingent left, plus me and Eric. So just two rope teams led by the two guides with other guides ahead breaking trail and testing for avalanche conditions.

Somewhere around here the radio chatter between guides became more frequent, and it became clear it was focused on avalanche conditions. I couldn't hear both sides of the conversation, but I could tell Andy was concerned. He kept asking questions of the other two guides, who were ahead of us and trying to break trail. At what turned out to be our last upward rest stop, he said he was letting Brent and his team go ahead a ways, as he wanted to see what conditions they encountered, and didn't want us too close together. As we started up, and did a traverse where we were basically on the side of the mountain with a solid snow field above and below, he would stop periodically to do snow testing. He noted his experience with ski patrol at Taos, NM, and showed us how it was forming dangerous slabs from his tests. He also became concerned that Brent was underplaying the danger, and determined to press on.

Andy's nervousness made me nervous, and I told him something like, "Look, if you don't think it's safe, you can tell Brent it was our idea and that we thought it better to turn back. I don't want to jeopardize your job." I sensed he was reluctant to break ranks with his boss, who owns the record for most individual summits of Rainier at over 400. But around then, as we were still standing there trying to figure out if we should continue, he said based on the latest radio call that Brent's team was turning around too. In fact, IMG, the other guide service on the mountain that day, was also turning around. So nobody, at least nobody from any guide service, would summit that day. But before realizing that Brent was turning around, Eric asked if there was anyway he could join Brent's group. Clearly, he had summit fever, and as it turned out, he had been on an abortive climb only three weeks before, and had been allowed to come back at a discount and without repeating climbing school in an effort to summit.

There was really a lot of irony to it all. The sky was clear, and just maybe a half hour after we started back down, it was a glorious dawn. We could finally admire some of the spectacular terrain we had just climbed. But the winds were nasty, and most of all the snow was dangerous. Apparently, it hadn't really consolidated and settled from the storms of the previous 2 weeks or so, and was quite unstable. Ripe for a slab avalanche, which is the most dangerous kind. Andy asked at various times that we remain quiet in areas where we could trigger an avalanche or an ice fall. The other irony was that we had already really climbed perhaps the most technically difficult section, the Cleaver. So while we had another 2-3 hours of climbing left till the summit, we were well on schedule and in shape to make the summit and descend in a timely fashion. We had tackled what was under our control, but the mountain had other plans that day!

As it became light, and Andy shared some other experiences, and pointed out some dangerous areas on the way down he hadn't noted on the way up, the full picture began to come together...one that I was happily oblivious to on the ascent. The places where the biggest mountaineering accident had occurred in the 1980s and taken like 30 lives, including RMI guides. And where a dozen climbers had been buried in an avalanche just in June (turns out only one of them perished, I would learn later from a web search). And you could see the ice cornices in the sections where he asked us to move quickly and stay quiet to avoid icefall. And see a few stray pebbles sliding down in front of us in the area known for rockfall danger. Though those dangers are ever-present on this and I guess all Rainier routes. All of that added to my sense of just how fraught with danger this mountain was even on a normal day, and how sensible the guides' decision to abort the summit attempt on this abnormally dangerous day had been . This is what I pay guides for, and why I put my life in the hands of experts! They know the dangers, and are not willing to take unnecessary risks just to get you to the top. Consummate professionals!

The one scary moment on the 2 hour or so descent down into Camp Muir was re-crossing the crevasses, now in daylight! One had a rope as a sort of handrail, but like the other it was a steep step down to place your lead foot on the wooden plank over the the ladder, and that was where you couldn't help but notice "the void" below. I just tried not to look too closely, so I didn't get a sense of the depth. We were of course roped together for safety, but still! The one without a handrail (which I believe came first) was the worst, as I stook there frozen for a couple of seconds, trying to get up the nerve, and breathing very hard! Andy urged me on, and finally I got myself to focus just on each step, and on stepping with purpose but not too quickly. On the second, I didn't let myself hesitate as long before starting, which went better. The longer you think about it, the worse it gets! My hands still sweat just thinking about it.

On the way back down to Camp Muir, we took more leisurely breaks, got to take more photos, and Brent was obviously trying to smooth the blow of us not being able to summit.We were no longer bound by such a tight schedule. I felt bad because I knew he felt bad. I guess I was equal parts relieved and disappointed. Kind of like the feeling of a DNF in a long ultra. You gave it your best shot, but there were conditions outside your control..... At least I could be proud that I was one of the four in our group who could handle the physical challenge, and was still plugging away until they had to pull the plug. I didn't give up (where others did), even though it was taking all my physical and psychic energy to stay in the game. I felt like that was equally a carryover from that "solidering on" mentality from ultrarunning. There were hairy moments, but I didn't lose my cool or concentration.

After the return to Camp Muir, and about an hour and half to gather our gear and eat something, the rest of the way down was a little anticlimactic. Even with the sunny skies, and great views. I think the lack of a real skating or skiing background makes me a little nervous on descents. Feels like a face plant or butt slide is always imminent! Also, it seems like descending really hits me in the chronically sore trail muscles. Anyway, there really wasn't anything to be in a hurry about, and all my adrenaline was left many hours behind. So I was content to bring up the rear with a couple of the guides, and take it easy as much as possible.

It was pretty amazing to see folks walking up in shorts or short sleeves (a few of them pretty far up into the snow), as it was a warm day down below, hitting around 70. So we were peeling off layers as we went down. It was also a little strange to come from this intense, gripping experience high up on the mountain, and running into these folks who were just hiking up for the day or a few hours, most without a clue what it's like "up there" but sometimes curiously asking questions like, "did you climb the mountain?" "Well, sort of" was the best we could manage as our paths crossed!

The other weird thing, now that I'm looking back on this well over a month later, is how difficult, pretty much impossible, it is to convey to people what you've experienced in something like this. Unless they've done something like it themselves. A few are curious, but most don't really perceive that it's much more than a steeper version of trail running (if they even have a clue what THAT is!). Or just a hard-core version of hiking or backpacking....

Wrong! As the guides would joke, "this isn't a hike!" There are definitely climbs a lot more technical or steeper in alpine mountaineering, but I definitely haven't been on anything in any hike or trail run or race as remotely steep as some of what we were on. Where it would difficult to imagine doing it without being roped up and without the aid of ice axe and crampon. And while I've been higher, I've never done that much continuous vertical in that space of time and with that much weight of my back. Or faced as many hazards as are standard fare high on Rainier, avalanche conditions or not. This one was "out there," well "outside the comfort zone!"

They're pretty much right in the trip literature that "you need to be in the best shape of your life," at least for the armchair athlete or outdoorsperson. I had some setbacks in my prep with the broken toe in early August that forced the postponement till September. But I definitely trained hard through that with the cross-training and put in the trail time (and treadmill time) with the pack, did the gym time, and still had the residual trail running fitness I was just starting to rebuild in the weeks prior. Without something at least approaching that specific and general fitness, your average decently fit 30 or 40 something professional, like those four Chicago doctors who didn't know their bodies well enough to be up to the challenge, just isn't up to a challenge like Rainier. So, this isn't a casual undertaking at all, and I consider it something to be proud of tackling, in the same breath with my trail running or triathloning or whatever. Just way more adventurous!

And yes, I want more! Not sure when, with adoption and parenthood looming large but with uncertain exact timing, and the need to sign up for guided trips well in advance (and after this, if I had any doubt before which I didn't, I know just why I always want to be accompanied by an experienced guide who knows the mountain I'm on!). But hopefully not too much time will pass. Whether it's a return trip to Rainier or tackling one of the volcanoes in Mexico or Ecuador or eventually trying something higher and more expeditionary like Aconcagua or Denali, I do crave more mountain time. Nothing quite like that feeling of being above the clouds, of being in a place where so few people go, seeing up close stuff you usually see only in a documentary or travel book. I just can't get enough of wild, remote places, where you get there (and back) under your own power. It's eerily peaceful, it's quiet, it's intense...nothing quite like it!

The Breathless Rockies: Mountains RATS race report

2010-10-26T19:36:00.000-07:00

As posted to my Yahoo group on August 4th (never did get around to writing the longer report)....

This is a not so short little recap before I prepare a more> organized report for my blog and post the pictures. Will give a> shout when that happens. And hopefully Brice can chime in with his> own take on things! You can see the final results, and some of the> racers' daily posts, at> http://www.geminiadventures.com/new/?page_id=374> <http://www.geminiadventures.com/new/?page_id=374>>> With me and stage races, I think it was love at first sight! Such> a cool format, combining friendly competition with camaraderie and> lots of emotional support. Really like a series of organized fun> runs, with some widely scattered checkpoints and unmanned water> spots. Time to hang out at camp each day and swap stories and get> to know each other (there were 11 runners here, and almost that> many race officials/organizers!).>> The Colorado high country was always between beautiful and> spectacular, especially the three passes above 12,000 feet that we> crossed on Thursday and then yesterday. About 70% of the time we> were on the Colorado Trail (which at times is shared with the> Continental Divide Trail or other local trails). Maybe 25% of the> time on jeep/fire roads, and 10 miles of pavement on a bike path> to get between trails. We covered approx. 85 miles over 4 days in> daily stages of (approx!) 17, 17.6, 27.4, and 20 miles. All within> the range of about 9,000 and 12,500 or so feet, so these weren't> just "any miles!" We were probably averaging 3,000-3,500 vertical> feet or so of climbing per day though I haven't checked GPS stats> yet (gasp for us flatlanders!), with fairly equal amounts of> descending.>> Oh yeah, and did I mention we had to carry ALL our food and> apparel, any personal items, and a list of required survival gear> (checked at each checkpoint where they would ask to see some> different item), plus copious amounts of water they re-supplied> 2-3 times a day? My pack may have started in the 25-30 pound range> (can you say sore shoulders?!), and gotten down closer to 15 or so> by the last day (but who's counting!). They provided (and set up)> the tents and hot and cold water and a little "mess" area and> washing station. That's it!>> The "mostly self-supported aspect" (which is like some stage races> but unlike some others, like the Desert RATS put on by these same> folks) meant not only "you want it, you carry it for 4 days." It> also meant being at fairly primitive campsites, not being able to> accept any outside assistance (eg no running into town for> supplies during a race, or accepting water from a wandering ATVer> as we were offered once :-), no trips to town at night to buy> beer...and knowing at the campsite just across the way the race> officials were gorging on "real food" as we downed our> freeze-dried camping meals and other fare that would travel well> and light! But you know what, somehow it sort of added to the raw,> barebones "it's all about the running" aspect of the event.>> What was cool about it? The sense of being in your own little> group running cocoon for 4 days, with no contact with outside> world, no distractions. It's really trail running life at its most> simple....get up, load up on calories, pack up the pack, hit the> trail, find a place to minimally wash up after (like maybe a> stream), eat and drink as much as you can to recover, share some> camp stories, and hit the tents and thermarests for the nights.> Get up, and do it again the next day!>> Other cool aspects.....The deep nature. The views. The camaraderie> of a great group of folks, and some incredible runners, from> Colorado, California, Virginia, and even CT and NYC!>> Personal high and lowlights:>> * Pushing it too much the first day (with no acclimatization) for> about eight miles of almost constant uphill, and then having a bit> of a solo sufferfest for the last 12 miles as I dropped back.>> * Getting some energy and zest back once I reached the first pass> on day two, took in the incredible views on a sunny day, and> enjoyed the ridgeline running and beautiful descent through a pine> forest.>> * Then on days three and four, I enjoyed the company of Miles who> went out with me and Brice, as I felt stronger and more acclimated> and he fell back from his two strong days and dealt with blister> and breathing issues. So it was two days solo, two days of tandem> running with lots of mutual support for me.>> * The views up around and from the two passes we went over> consecutively yesterday, and then the wonderful eight-mile almost> uninterrupted gradual descent through mountain meadows, across> streams, through evergreen forest, and with tons of wildflowers> all along the way.>> * Oh yeah, and there was this little encounter on Saturday, via> ungraceful face plant, as I discovered that railroad track is> harder than (believe it or not) human cheek and jaw, shoulder, or> knee...Suffice it to say, my first call this morning was to a> dentist, and there were a few short initial hours of thinking as I> covered the remaining 21 miles that day that maybe I'd need to ask> to go to an ER for an x-ray of cheek/jaw and/or shoulder. I'm> lucky the impact seemed to be spread over those three body parts> on two sides. So no fractures, and just need to check out the> dental damage. Lesson: Don't watch the runner in front of you pose> for the camera of the event photographer, and start thinking of> what pose you will strike or clever line you'll use....while> crossing 4 inch high railroad tracks. But still, I was having a> great day physically, and it continued after that, so you get up,> dust yourself off (with the aid of other runners), and get back at it!>> One fall over 28 hours of mountain trail running across 4> days...my luck it was on railroad tracks! :-)>> All in all? Stage races rule! A whole new world of experiencing> trails and ultras beckons! Bring on some more!>> Cheers, Scott

From Miwok to Eve of Mountain RATS via Bighorn

2010-07-27T11:27:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been a busy last three months, on every front except in terms of my blogging! Too much of a perfectionist to just sit down and get out those immediate thoughts and experiences. Which is I guess what this is all about rather than being too analytical!

Anyway, there were two interesting footnotes to the successful Miwok race and trip: My lost wedding ring on the Miwok course mysteriously became "found" when I happened to read the blog of friend Cherie Yanek a few weeks ago, noticing she had posted a report on the race. Turned out to be from the RD, and at the bottom she listed a wedding race as "lost and found." I had so given it up for lost (during a glove change at an aid station most likely) that I hadn't even thought to contact the RD till I saw that 2+ months later! In the meantime, I had gotten an identical ring at the same jeweler's as 1995.

The other Miwok footnote also involves Cherie: Turns out I came within a minute of her, even though I looked for her at the finish and she had had a good mile or two on me at the turnaround. I shouldn't be totally surprised, since I passed a good 20 folks or more probably from mile 48 onward, but she slowed enough with the various troubles she had (she was post Umstead 100 and Boston, so it stands to reason!) and I picked it up enough that I almost caught her. I just learned that also when I happened to check her blog a few weeks ago to see if she had posted on her VT100 race, and it kind of dumbfounded me, and brought back just how well I had closed at Miwok.

Speaking of "closing," that was also the theme of my North Face Bear Mountain 50K race, only seven days after Miwok. After a very sluggish first half, the rains stopped and sun came out and my spirits brightened and legs lost their heaviness. From the section past Tiorati Circle on to Anthony Wayne I picked it up, and from there took it into yet another gear. Easily passed 20 or so folks the second half, and ended up with a 7:17:58 time, which bettered my 2008 time at Bear Mountain (albeit on a different course that was a little easier this time around) by somewhere around 7-10 minutes.

That leads me on to Bighorn in June. Along the way, just when the training was going best, I got some kind of strange pain in my right hip, just after returning from Brazil, that led me to have to take 8 days off and only cross-train. Just in that period 3-4 weeks out when I was going to hit peak mileage, and put in another B2B. Anyway, by the time I saw a sports med (Metzl) the pain was gone, and he just said to do plyometric squat jumps to strengthen glutes. So, I came into Bighorn about 2 weeks back into training, but without the peak training, the speedwork sessions, and other confidence building I hoped to have. Still, I felt fit, and my four sessions with a sports pscyhologist left me feeling pretty good about my chances, plus I was psyched to have a pacer in Jeremy.

This was my first Bighorn, of my now three DNFs, where I felt like I didn't give it away, with blister issues, stomach problems, long energy outages, the things that plagued me in '07 and '08. I thought I ran a smart race, held back on the huge climb from about 6 to 9, picked it up from there, passed some folks, and felt good heading into Footbridge at mile 30. But I was still behind where I wanted to be, when I picked up Jeremy for the nighttime section, and the long ardous climb up to Porcupine. I could tell I was losing time as some folks passed me, and I did have to do a 5 minute or so stop to lube a spot on top of my foot that was chafing, under the tongue of the shoe. But my effort was steady, though when I checked it (more difficult in the dark) my HRM seemed to show lower rate than in the early climbs (110s-120s instead of 130s). So maybe I didn't push hard enough. But I didn't really feel like I could push much harder.

The only other mishap on the way up to Porcupine was having my glasses lenses popped out by the stub of a tree branch. We had to spend like 10 minutes finding it in the dark, and a runner coming opposite way ending up spotting somehow. It was slower going the higher up we got with all the mudpuddles from the snowmelt. And chilly! Anyway, as we got closer to the turnaround, on the slightly snow-altered course, I could tell as I saw folks heading back down, like Rob, that I wasn't coming in there with enough of a cushion on the cutoff to have a realistic shot of finishing.

At Porcupine, I ate and restocked food and changed shoes and socks. Not quite sure how long I spent there, but I didn't dally. I think I may have been one of the last to head out from there, as others had already dropped and were waiting for the arriving bus with the 50 milers to get a ride back to Dayton. I never seriously contemplated dropping there, though I knew my race would end at Footbridge at mile 66. I still felt good, it was nearly dawn and I wanted to see the sunrise, and was enjoying Jeremy's company. Also, he had no easy way to get back to Footbridge and his car.

Sunrise gave me some renewed energy. We weren't bombing the downhills, but weren't dogging it either. We lingered a little at aid stations, where Jeremy refueled as he was carrying less, and there was one station where the volunteers spotted a white wolf, which we briefly saw down the ridge. That was pretty cool! We didn't get a picture, but I did take several more in the AM with my nice new "bombproof" superlite camera. Then came the 50 milers zooming by, and the constant, distracting game of looking out for them coming, and getting off the trail to let them by. This I find to be one of the biggest problems with the race--it really throws you off your rhythm and causes you to lose time to have to constantly get out of the way of their faster folks. They're nice and let you know they're coming, but it's downhill, they're moving fast, and it takes energy and time to step onto the uneven surface off the trail to let them go by. I kind of wish they would find another way to get the 50 milers onto the same course more gradually and when they have thinned out more. It kind of punishes the back of pack 100 milers. Oh well!

Anyway, in the Narrows section, we didn't see many runners. One who had stopped and was holding onto a tree who had twisted an ankle or something, whom Jeremy stopped to talk to and check on. And two women 50 milers who passed us and urged us on, saying we could all make the Footbridge cutoff. But I knew from my aid station splits that wasn't going to happen, even though my Garmin had lost its battery life long since, and I had forgotten to swap out with my other Garmin at Porcupine. I had energy to keep moving, and to alternate running of a sort of shuffling variety with walking, but not to pick it up in any significant way. It always seems to take forever in the miles approaching Footbridge, and this year was no exception. When we finally got in there, I was surprised to see Rob and a half dozen or so others who had missed the cutoff or just decided not to continue. I got my dropbag, and we did the long walk up to Jeremy's car.

There was a mixture of relief it was over and disappointment another Bighorn was ending prematurely for me, and at the same point in the race I can't seem to get past. A little part of me had feared I would make the cutoff, in which case I know I would have gone on no matter what based on my 08 experience, but that was really unrealistic as I wasn't that close to making the cutoff. I did in fact pick it up some the last few miles, and Jeremy said after he had trouble keeping up (his trail shoes were all battered and full of holes and on their last outing!). But even then I was close to 35 minutes off the cutoff.

All I can really say is I gave it my best in terms of what I had physically and mentally. In retrospect, I guess it's worth pushing the early hills a little more and risking it, as you can't give that much time away. And I suppose a pacer who was an experienced runner might have been less shy about giving me some "tough love" of pushing me and keeping me on a tighter schedule. But that's a lot to ask someone who's new to this type of event, and I hadn't really given him direction about how to approach that. And in fact, I'm not sure I would have gotten through the night and morning as well as I did without his company and camaraderie.

Somehow there was a little less bitter aftertaste with Bighorn this year. The trip across the state to meet Esperanza in Jackson, and then the 10 days in Tetons and Yellowstone, totally enveloped me in new sensations and left no time for feeling sorry for myself. I took about 4 days off, as we did our near daily hikes, and then resumed running the last few days, and had a couple beautiful trail runs near Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, Mammoth Lodge, and then in Gardiner along the river. Looking back at our last day up in the Beartooths, when I ran up to the fire lookout at 9,900 to catch up to Esperanza, I look back and wonder what might have happened if I had had the benefit of that level of acclimatization (12 days into the trip) at the race. That's the one thing I haven't yet tried at Bighorn that seems like it could maybe push me over the top!

Anyway, I don't regret it, loved the experience, loved seeing Diane and Rob and meeting their friends with their new Ethiopian daughter, hanging out with Nelson and his wife (why am I blanking on her name), the pre and postrace meals, meeting folks like Chip and Bogie. The views continue to blow me away throughout all sections of the course. They pretty much take your breath away. The canyons, raging rivers, rock walls of yellow and orange hue, the verdant forests, the snow, the feeling of being up high in the cold predawn hours. These are those unsurpassed Bighorn experiences I'll always carry with me no matter what!

So, after the end of the Wyoming/Montana expedition, it was back to NYC for a pretty intensive month of training heading into RATS. Made it out to Delaware Water Gap and up to Hudson Highlands for first time, trained with the pack of 18 to 24 lbs. 3-4 times a week, was on the trails 3 days a week and probably averaging a good 12 hours or so of weekly trail time. Doing speedwork on my own, lifting, yoga. All in the heat and humidity of upper 80s and 90s. Two long runs with Garth, Paul, and Lesley, variously, in Harriman over that time. Now this is the type of training I should be doing for 100 milers, I thought!

Miwok 100K: initial report

2010-05-04T13:09:00.000-07:00

A longer report coming, but this is what I posted last night to our Yahoo NYC Trails & Ultras group...

When you get to see the Golden Gate at dawn and dusk, stunning views of thePacific from grassy bluffs a thousand feet up, start on the beach pre-dawn, it'ssunny all day with practically no clouds...well, this one is truly off thecharts scenic beauty-wise. The 10,000 feet of climb and equal of descent make it challenging, though the footing is decidedly tame by our Eastern standards (as is true of the other California races I've done). The race organization is superb, the aid stations good, course markings easy to follow...you can see why this one had to go to a lottery to fill its 250 slots starting last year!

The relatively smooth footing, and the fact that I held a pretty steady effort all day and had something left in the tank to pick off a good number of folksover the last ten miles or so, made for a very satisfying race (14:34). And even a PR of about 15 minutes (not that this is as technically tough as GEER or Bandera, my other 100Ks, but I'll still take it!). Definitely a nice confidencebooster for Bighorn 100 6/18-19, which was the main goal.

Our friend Glenn Redpath took 8th overall (in a cool 9:06), and was lookingstrong on the two out and back sections where I saw him. (Tony "the naked guy" Tripucka won the race, and yes he was running shirtless even in the predawnupper 40ish weather!)

I saw Cherie three times on the out and backs, the last time as I was a mile orfrom turnaround at 36 and she an equal distance beyond it. She was complainingof having had nausea, and I see from a Twitter post on her site that she hadsome other physical issues, too. She didn't say how she finished and she waslong gone when I got to finish. And results aren't yet posted. Look forward toseeing her report.

Anyway, as far as a tune-up for Bighorn and a destination race, Miwok fit the bill nicely! Hopefully a little left in the legs to get through the North Face Bear Mountain 50K this weekend in one piece. Look forward to seeing many of you out there on Saturday!

More later....

Scott

High Desert and Snowy Peaks: Old Pueblo 50 Mile Race Report

2010-03-08T13:54:00.000-08:00

Overall Impressions

Old Pueblo is a beautiful, well-organized 51-mile trail run through the high country of the Santa Rita mountains, about an hour southeast of Tucson. It features more dirt roads than is to my trail purist's liking. But fortunately these are mostly pretty remote forest service roads, with little or no vehicle travel. Some well graded and smooth, but occasionally pretty rugged. So you still get that "away from it all, out there" feeling, as you go back and forth from public land to private ranch land, crossing more cattle guards than I carry to count! Plus there are three distinct sections of the beautiful Arizona Trail single track. These tend to be the sections with the most forest cover in what is mostly a pretty exposed course. You have that "I can see for miles and miles" feeling at many different points in the race, contrasting sharply with that "closed in, don't know what's around the next curve in the trail" from our eastern Appalachian races.

Perhaps the most spectacular feature of this race are some of the high mountain passes you cross, as you hit points of 5,600-5,900 feet five different times. Particularly Gunsight Pass at around mile 17, from which the views are vast. For what seems like the majority of the race, there is a range of glorious higher peaks of around 9,000+, covered with lots of snow, gazing down at you quite tantalizingly. Just in case you're feeling too high and mighty at your piddling elevation! (Can't seem to find the name that one racer gave me afterwards for this range or one particular peak, as I peruse just now a long web list of Arizona's higest peaks.)

For someone coming from sea level like me, the moderate mile-high elevation of the race--ranging from about 4,100 to 5,900--adds a decent level of difficulty. The climbs aren't particularly long or steep or technical, and pretty much all the course is runable if you have your "wheels still on." Total elevation gain is 7,000, with equal amount of descent, so more moderate than, say, Mountain Masochist or Bel Monte among eastern 50 milers. Yet still for me, at a comparable (at least) level of fitness to doing those two races over the past year, it was a decidedly slower course than Masochist, and maybe in the same category of Bel Monte for overall toughness (I was 20 minutes or so faster at OP50).

I think that's mostly the altitude factor, but also the second half of the course is considerably tougher, and with a greater quotient of single track and (somewhat) technical terrain and lots and lots of stream crossings (falling in the last third of the race when you have the least patience and manueverability left in the legs for rock hopping--some wetness is inevitable, so better to just go with the flow!). So all that tends to slow you down quite a bit despite the general runability of the footing. A 50 mile trail PR course this ISN'T! But neither is it a Zane Grey or Jemez Mountain or HURL Elkhorn or some other "epic western mountain 50 miler," which will take mid packers 14 hours and up and up.

The weather was quite pleasant. Party to mostly sunny, highs in low 60s, winds got up there into teens and maybe 20s but were never a both for too long. Just when I got warm enough to roll down the arm warmers and unzip the vest I wore (beneath my Nathan mesh carry-all vest) and would think about discarding it at a drop bag location, I decided to keep it. Later on, as I rolled the sleeves back down, and zipped up the vest, I was glad I had kept it!

Race organization was first-class. Extremely well marked. Particularly as there were many side trails or roads where you could go wrong, if each turn weren't so copiously marked, wrong turns well chalked off, and ribbons placed nicely every few minutes so you never went far without knowing you were on course. Aid stations were well-spaced for a backcountry race, every 6 miles or so, with friendly volunteers and pretty good offerings (though a bit more in the way of sandwiches and soup throughout might have been nice).

Overall, I loved the setting, the wide open feeling, the high desert terrain of low forest and prickly pear, sotol, cholla, and other cacti, and the vast views of surrounding mountains in almost all directions. Quintessentially Southwestern. I had one of those "isn't it great to be a trail runner and to be alive" moments somewhere toward the middle of the race. Cholla and prickly pear and other cacti gleaming in the sun. The mountains I had just descended on a lovely stretch of screaming downhill behind me and off to one side. A beautiful string of snow-covered peaks pulling me onward as I ran toward it through a vast rolling valley...it doesn't get any better than that, and it's what ultrarunning is all about to me! All that, plus the spectacular couple hours I spent the day before at Saguaro National Park (west section) absolutely made this cross-country destination race trip well worth it--and one I'd do again!

Overview of My Race

I wasn't quite sure what to expect, so formulating goals was hard. I put down 11 hour, 11:30, and 12 hour aid station splits on my pace chart. I figured it was probably slower than Masochist with the altitude, and turned out I was right. I knew it was "way easier" than the venerable Zane Grey a couple hundred miles north, but so is pretty much any other race, so how much easier? Three hours? Four? Hard to plan!

Anyway, for the first half of the race, I was on a pace that would get me in around 11:30, and was moving well. Watching the heart rate, monitoring the effort, climbing pretty efficiently, gliding smoothly on the downhills. But it turns out the course is really backloaded in terms of difficulty. I moved well on the mostly uphill dirt roads from 25 to 29, and then on the single track from 29 to 33. But still my pace had slipped to a 12 hour pace by then. So I thought, well, 12 hours would still be quite decent on a course like this.

Then things slid a bit, and the energy faded for a couple miles at a time, at various points between about 35 and 46. My Garmin was registering mile splits in the 15-18 minute range, after lots of 12-14 minute ones in the first 35 or so. Turns out, my overall pace per section was pretty even through the race (from a high of 14:41 to a low of 13:18).

But in any case the pace did slip, and what I thought would be a "long heroic charge" over the last 15 miles ended up being confined to a "last-minute heroic charge" over the last 3-4 miles trying to salvage a sub-12:30 finish (which I barely made, at 1:29:26, good for 81st out of 122 finishers--173 were registered, but not sure how many of them started).

And charge it was, as I was suddenly able to rev it up to do 10-11 minute miles and surge past two people who'd passed me in previous miles, getting the old ticker up to the 170s to low 190s (could that be right?, I asked myself, as objectively my HR hadn't gotten that high in even recent speed workouts, and I was even doubting I could get it past the mid-180s based on those workouts!). I was pleased to make it in by sunset, and never have to turn on that headlamp I picked up at mile 40. But I did have way too much left in the tank?, I wonder in retrospect.

Oh yeah, and there was that extra third of a mile or so I had to run, when I left one of my bottles at the mile 40 aid station and had to run back for it!

The goal of finishing in the top half didn't materialize, as I was more like bottom third. But not too far off goal if you consider probably total starters. Anyway, since this is all about the buildup to Bighorn in June, the positive takeaways were that I still had a lot loft in the tank at the end (probably too much!). And that I never got too discouraged even when I slowed, and more ambitious pace goals went by the wayside. Never had one of those stretches where a stream of racers pass you by. And all in all from 33 on I passed a net total of eight people (the last of them a "re-pass" of someone whom I'd passed in the first half). So I was at least slowing down to a lesser degree than those around me! Stomach was ok (one brief pit stop aside), ate and drank regularly, blister issues only minor, no need for shoe and sock changes, efficient aid station get-thru, yadda, yadda, yadda.

So, all in all, I guess it fulfilled its dual role as "winter getaway destination race" and Bighorn tuneup. Though we'll see about the latter come late June!

(a more detailed section by section recap still to come in a separate post)

Obviously still need to work on limiting those bad patches

Starting the Year Off on a High Note: Bandera 100K Race Report

2010-01-19T20:01:00.000-08:00

As posted to our NYC Trails and Ultras Yahoo group on Jan. 11th (with further details and reflections below for the ultra freaks!...)

I thought when I signed up back in December I would be in for the usual fare oftemps in the 60s to 70s in this area about an hour west of San Antonio. Butthey too have been having a record cold snap, so it was about 16 degrees at racestart on Saturday, warmed to the low 40s by mid-afternoon, and went back down to the 20s at night, as my race ended about 11:30PM. It was a beautiful, sunny,cloudless day, and a nice starry night. I never shed my gloves or head covering and had two layers in the daytime, three at night. But not much wind,thankfully. (You guys looked colder in the Wathchung photos, I must say!).

I didn't quite know what to expect, this being only my second official 100K and on a course that looked to be even tougher than the first (the old GEER coursei n VA, which had a lot more paved roads than it does now). So I thought to myself, maybe somewhere between 15 and 18 hours?, and made out my pace chart accordingly. I knew it was supposed to be mostly quite rocky with lots of steep but not overly long (by western standards) climbs that have you up and down in the 1,400-1,950' elevation range all day and into the night. That turned out to be pretty accurate, and as advertised it's all "tough but runable," and also includes some lengthy sections that are less technical and faster. Loved the course, particularly the variety. The feet took a little beating with the rocks, and discovered some suspected toe blisters afterwards, but fortunately they weren't debilitating at the time and I'm glad I resisted the urge to change shoes or socks.I

In the event, it turned out that I ran like five races in one on this two loop course, where the second 50K is identical to the first. Out maybe too fast till about mile 16. Slowed from there to about 26. Picked it up again till the halfway point, but then slowed a lot from 31 to 42. And then from there as the darkness fell I regained momentum and made a good push, and passed maybe 15 or so folks over the last 19 miles.

Some valuable takeaways for me here on how you can recover from long periods of slowing pace and right yourself again. I charged as hard as I could the last 10 miles or so, including from the last aid station five miles out with the aid of an impromptu pacer who offered his services as he waited for his wife to finish. He was very insistent as the other runner there turned him down, and I ended up being happy I'd taken him upon it, as he kept me focussed. After having done the first 50K in 7:03, I was scared by that point I'd drop to a 16 hour+ finish, and that was good incentive to move as quickly as possible over the last remaining climbs and descents! Finally ended up in 15:48:53, for 61st of 110 finishers, and 147 starters (most of the DNFs got credit for 50K finishes).

The Tejas Trails folks (www.tejastrails.com) put on a slew of first-rate trail races around Texas by all reports, including Cactus Rose 100m in that same park, Rocky Racoon,and a new hundred in Sept. in New Mexico starting this year galled Gila Gundred. Bandera also featured a 50K and 25K, and there were 600 signed up between the three distances, though I think there were some no-shows with the cold. The aid stations (every 5-6 miles) were well stocked and manned, there were three drop bag locations and eight times you could access your bags if you used them all,and the course was well marked at all the key turns. Nice belt buckle for yourefforts at the end, and an attractive fleece pullover for race entry.

The course is very crew and pacer-friendly, with all aid stations road-accessible. First-class race management all the way, and very friendly folks! The area is one of rugged semi-arid beauty I really enjoyed exploring. From thepark's website: "The Hill Country State Natural Area is a scenic mosaic ofrocky hills, flowing springs, oak groves, grasslands, and canyons. The terrain ranges from flat, broad creek bottoms to steep, rocky canyons up to 2000 feet inelevation." 'Nuff said, though those springs and creeks were pretty much bone dry! An added bonus was getting to stay at a dude ranch just a few miles outside thepark entrance called Silver Spur(the area is loaded with them). And got to see the Alamo and some other nice sights in San Antonio yesterday. A direct, cheapflight from Newark made the travel a cinch. So, if you're looking for a great destination ultra next winter that would usually promise much warmer weatherthan the Northeast and definitely a lot different terrain and scenery, check this one out! The Tejas Trails await, and will beat you up good but then leave you with a big Texas smile on your face!

Here's the aid station blow by blow, for the detail freaks and those maybe thinking of doing the race (or so I can remember when I go back!):

Start to Nachos (5.6m) 1:07:38 split (12:04 average pace): Beautiful sunny morning, with some great vistas from the hills. Captured a few with my Kodak disposable digital. Felt good on the early climbs. Hands were cold at the start, where it may well have been in the teens, but warmed up. Had a little conversation with a guy from Colorado, and exchanged a few words with Olga V., who's a true downhill demon. In retrospect, probably out too fast, and wondered as much a few times. Pretty cool getting the mile by mile feedback from the new Garmin on pace, as well as the accessible HR info. Loved the cowboy songs playing at the Nachos AS, by far the most extroverted of all the stations during the race. This is a tough and rocky but still mostly runable section.

Nachos to Chapas (11.4): 1:03:31 split (11:40 ave. pace): Less rocky and technical. A few road crossings. I continued to feel good, with HR mostly in upper 130s to mid-140s, but climbing to 150 or so on the ups. Had a volunteer or crew guy take my picture in front of some cacti (nopales) just before this aid station. Grabbed a little extra food from my DB here.

Chapas to Crossroads (16.9) 1:13:37 split (12:34 pace): Probably the fastest and flattest, if least exciting section, of the race. Kind of interesting to run through some fields, as the rest of the time you're mostly in the forest. I was conscious in this section I was slowing a bit, and that it probably wasn't a bad idea to be running 12s and 13s instead of 11s and 12s. I think this was section where I first started seeing the lead 50Kers (who were 5 miles behind us on the course layout) whiz by. Took me a while till I realized what was going on!

Crossroads back to Crossroads (28.85) 1:15:40 split (15:14 pace): Early and latter parts with good terrain and faster, but the middle part is mountainous and technical. One of the prettiest sections, with some of the steepest downhills. It felt like this was as warm as it got all day, and I unzipped the top of my jacket and long sleeve thermal top at times, but never really considered shedding a layer all day. The section was tougher, but I was also conscious of some energy loss, and was getting passed a good bit. Did brief DB checks on both in and out (refill bottle with Ensure, grab food, apply sunscreen). The exit is a little confusing, and I doubled back briefly to make sure I was leaving the right way.

Crossroads to Last Chance (26.1) 1:18:13 split (16:03 pace): Good bit of climbing on this section. Was talking early on with a nice guy from Austin area who'd DNF'd Bighorn the first time but then finished. Didn't catch his name. Took my first Vivarin and Advil here, per my 5 hour schedule, and got a boost from it, but not till the latter part of the section. Early part of this was probably low point of the race for me physically and pscyhologically. Falling off pace, HR slipping but can't get back up, getting passed. Even briefly let thought of taking a 50K finish cross my mind. But the caffeine/Advil surge quickly dispelled those thoughts.

Last Chance to Lodge/halfway point (31.0) 1:14:58 split (15:18 pace) left Lodge at 7:03:41 so in to halfway in about 7:00-7:01: A better section. Tougher than previous one with serious of climbs and false summits, but pace still improves, and run the downs well and pass some folks for a change. The 17s and 18s give way to 15s and 16s, as spirits improve again. Nice to see guys from Austin I'd meet as I was coming in (Leary and Barrett), and all in all I felt ok that I was hitting the 50K mark at 7:00, especially recalling that was faster than my Bear Mountain 50K time in '07. Quick refill of bottle and food and back onto the course for the second half.

Lodge to Nachos (36.6) 1:44:38 split (18:41 pace): This section started well. There's a short stretch as you head out where you see the folks coming in behind you to the Lodge. Nice to know you're ahead of SOMEbody! But I could feel the heavy dose of climbs in this section was a lot harder than the first time around. My overall pace confirms this wasn't too strong a section for me. Nachos AS had some spirited rock playing instead of cowboy tunes this time through--fun group!

Nachos to Chapas (42.0) 1:37:58 split (18:00 pace): This section is less technical and has less climbing, but my pace didn't pick up too much. More folks passed me. Bit of an energy lull. It was just getting dark at this AS (and colder), and I took time to eat something solid and substantial (can't quite recall what). Changed my base layer, and put my comfy Patagonia alpine jacket back on over it. Left the lighter headlamp I'd picked up earlier and picked up the heavier one (good move, illuminates better) as well as the flashlight.

Chapas to Crossroads (47.9) 1:29:53 (15:22): This was the section where things turned around for me, and I took control of my race again! I had the sense leaving that aid station that I had given a lot of ground. The food picked me up, and I took my second dose of caffeine and Advil a little ways back out. After a quick bathroom stop, I passed a pair of women. Somewhere around mile 49. I had a real energy surge on this quite runable section and in these early nighttime hours, and I don't believe a single person passed me from this point of the race on through the finish. I probably passed 15-20 over the last 13 miles or so. I really felt like I was moving as we entered the winding section through the grassy fields. It was cool to see the lights in the distance near the edge of the park, and then the vehicle lights of support vehicles in the distance on the road. Very clear, starry night! But it seemed to take forever as you wound your way to Crossroads AS. I put on a vest here, as it was getting colder as the night progressed. Had hot soup, as I recall. But got out of there pretty quickly. Man on a mission!

Crossroads loop (52.5) 1:27:33 (17:39 pace): My pace naturally slowed, as this loops contains the most difficult section of the race (with easier beginning and ending parts). But it was decent considering where I was in the race, and I found myself enjoying being alone in the night. Occasionally I spied lights ahead of me, and I gradually overtook them. At one point I saw some lights getting closer, but I picked it up on the climbs and descents, and as I appraoched Crossroads again there was no one in sight. I again ate something solid and substantial there (inclucing some soup I believe). But got out of there good and quick. No lingering inside that comfortable, warm tent, which I sensed a few people who came in behind me were doing.

Crossroads to Last Chance (57.1) 1:10:34 (16:36): Somewhere in this section I passed one or two. At one point there were two people (maybe a woman and her pacer?) approaching, but I picked it up and didn't see them again. Still feeling pretty good here (had my Red Bull mini-shot). It was a real boost to get to the last AS! Since I had plenty of food to get me to the finish, I refused anything but water, and got out of there real fast. A guy was asking me, and a runner who had come in there ahead of me, if we'd like a pacer to the finish. She said no, and I was tempted to do the same, but he seemed so eager, I said "Sure!" So he quickly shed his coat to join me.

Last Chance to finish (1:16:04 15:13 pace): Wish I could remember the name of the guy who kindly paced me to the finish, but it's a blur. He was originally from the San Antonio/Austin area, but had recently moved with his wife to Denver. Apparently she had been running in like second place, but had taken a wrong turn and gotten way off course, and after a few hours' rest had decided to go back out and finish. So he was waiting for her, and had decided to kill time (and maybe stay warm!) by pacing. Anyway, it was great to have the company, after so much time alone. He let me take the lead, and he seemed pretty impressed with the way I was moving. I told him I really, really wanted to break 16 hours, and that I was cutting it close.

I kept checking my Garmin periodically, making the calculations about what pace per mile I needed. I'd forgotten how tough this section can be, with a series of tough climbs and false summits and the rocky, technical parts, especially the descents, tougher to navigate than the first time through in the daylight. But I was pleasantly surprised my legs could handle the descents (and in retrospect see that my overall pace in this section was only 5 seconds slow than it had been 8 hours earlier!). We passed a couple folks. At some point, not long after we started descending, my pacer said we were nearing the finish. I looked at my watch and realized we would be in well under 16 hours! As we came to the clearing and saw the illuminated finish line, he congratulated me and said he was going to veer off to let me finish. Not realizing there was a sort of chute, I veered that way, before he told me to head back and under the chute tape, and finish on the proper line. It was with considerable elation that I finally crossed the tape in 15:48:56. Not quite the ideal race in those middle section, but really nailed those last 13 miles, and finished quite strong.

I take a lot of positives away from this race. Second 100K ever. First race of the year. Pretty tough course, so a good test. Dealt with some adversity, never panicked, and got my energy back, with plenty of gas left in the tank in the latter miles. If I'd been at that point of a 100 miler, I feel pretty confident I could have finished, and finished well. My aid station time management was solid (resisted temptation to ever change shoes or socks, got through quickly, kept it pretty simple). No stomach issues. I hydrated and ate well, and managed my energy well.

All in all, this was a really enjoyable destination race experience. I was pleasantly suprised by the rugged Southwestern beauty of Hill Country. Enjoyed the hospitality of the folks at the dude ranch, and getting to chat over Sunday breakfast with the owners and guests. Cool to see the Alamo. Could definitely imagine going back to this one someday, maybe checking out Austin, or some of the other little towns not far from Bandera that look interesting.

I've got an inkling 2010 is going to be a pretty good year! I'm fired up!

Wasn't Such a Bad Year After All

2009-12-31T05:09:00.000-08:00

Sitting here drinking my morning coffee on the last day of the year--and of the decade, if you don't get too technical--and staring out at some light, beautiful snow that just started falling makes me reflect back on the year that has passed. If I compare 2009 to the goals I laid out a year ago, I'd have to be disappointed. But I guess I'd rather dwell on some of the positives I take out of the year.

You do enough "destination races" in beautiful places, you start to take them for granted. But I shouldn't, and can't let myself! I got to run some awesome trails this past year in the low desert of California and high desert of Arizona, the verdant mountains of Virginia and Washington State, the vast open spaces of Montana and Wyoming, and a bunch of great new places I hadn't yet run in my own backyard (the Shawangunks, Delaware Water Gap, Sterling Forest). Oh yeah, and that big glorious hole in the ground in Arizona they call the Grand Canyon! And there was that guided winter climb up Mt. Washington and that introduction to mountaineering through a training course last Feb. in New Hampshire. I have to feel so, so very fortunate to have had the resources, the time, and the good health to be able to make these trail sojourns. And oh yeah, the patience and indulgence of a partner in life who's willing to put up with my obsession with this stuff. These journeys are really like pilgrimages to the soul.

I guess beyond the race results, the PR's and DNF's and injuries and recoveries and all that humdrum stuff, it's really the particular feelings you've had in the course of your outdoors experiences that really stick with you. A few stand out from this past year. The incredible glow of the Cholla cactuses by the roadside and the stark beauty of the Joshua trees you encounter after an hour or so in the back country in Joshua Tree NP still linger fresh in my mind from last January. Another highlight was seeing the incredible panorama of the Grand Canyon at first light as you descend the South Kaibab Trail, the colors coming alive as the sun slowly sweeps across the canyon. And as far as moments within races themselves, I'd have to say that the raging streams, alpine meadows, and pine forests of Helena National Forest in Montana at HURL Elkhorn were all all pretty memorable. Like running through a postcard!

And then there are those moments in a race or training run when everything just "clicks" and you find a zone and are able to stay in and really push beyond what you thought you could do that particular day. Training, preparation, the weather, the course, everything just seems to converge. I had long strethces like this past year like that at both Calico 50K and Mountain Masochist 50m. Not coincidentally, those were my two PR's for the year. I wish I knew how you can just "turn it on," stay on and then exceed your race plan, surprise yourself with how hard you can push it while staying within yourself. Those moments are so elusive, but I feel like they're at least more reachable now for me in distances up to 50 miles. High time to see if I can conjure a little of that elusive magic at distances beyond that!
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A nice little walk through the falling snow just gave me a chance to reflect on the lower points of 2009, and the lessons taught and hopefully soon to be learned! Three 100 mile DNF's and that pesky and mysterious knee injury in May are at the top of that particular list.

Not quite sure what it is with me and the 100 mile distance. It's easy to make excuses, and so much can (and will!) go wrong when you tackle that distance. If you let it.... And if you let the setbacks crescendo into crises and then into failures to complete the job at hand. Those awful spirals of negativity I can get into.

Bottom line, MMT I was fit enough but probably over-raced. Waiting list or not, shouldn't have done it with two fifty milers under my belt three and seven weeks out. And then shouldn't have let the wet conditions dampen my spirits and become some negative. With a better push through those sections with my pacer John, I could have made that cutoff at 66 or whatever, and gone on to fight further into the night, at the very least. Thinking that Tahoe Rim two months hence was going to be my "real 100" during that one was another big no-no...injury ended up keeping me out of Tahoe as it turned out, and so I didn't get the two birds in the bush or the bird in hand! If you're not fully physically and mentally committed to the very fiber of your being to finishing the race, things will go south in a 100 miler. That's a huge lesson I hope I can internalize!

Cascade Crest, after the injury layoff and such, I can chalk up to the combination of the stomach problems and not really being as fit as I needed to be to make that tight 32-hour cutoff. Just not enough quality training months after I got back to training maybe 7, 8 weeks out. So, be nicer to your stomach on the day before and race morning next time, Scott! And next time don't feel locked into a race just because you've registered for it months in advance, and even though you had to bag that same race two weeks before the last time ('07) because of an injury. It'll still be there! Just say no, and wait another month or two for another 100 and get fitter!

So that leaves Iroquois. Really should have finished that one. Three weeks after CC, so wasn't any fitter, but I knew the course, and had the mental advantage of having completed it already. I think in part I was too complacent about navigation based on that familiarity, however. Be very careful with nighttime navigation next time, and listen to your pacer (Jason) when he says he suspects you might be going in the wrong direction! Also, that "smart" plan of running the first half slower than the first year so you wouldn't wilt the second half as much probably wasn't so smart after all. It was a cooler first day this time, and with more "money in the bank" I could have ridden (rode?) out those huge time losses due to navigation errors and still gone on. And next time, don't assume you're out because you've missed the official aid station cutoff; tell the RD, whom you know in a small, informal race that's pretty flexib le, that you feel like you can go on and finish, and that you're only behind because of nav problems and are still feeling ok. Had you asked, maybe begged a little if necessary, I bet Ian would have let you go on. And you just might have made up that time. Truth is, I didn't have the courage, and felt mentally defeated by the combination of time loss and nighttime fatigue and didn't keep fighting when I needed to.

So, ultimately it comes down to a mental thing. I've got this big pyschological barrier about 100 miles going back to my first Bighorn DNF. "I'm not worthy of this distance! Stopping or getting cut off will feel so good!" But it doesn't! It sucks! You have to live with yourself, with the "could haves" and "should haves." And somehow the Iroquois finish last year didn't get it through my thick skull and thin skin that, yes, I can do it again, and need to be more of a fighter, need to maybe be a little more aggressive the first half and not cut myself such a small margin for error at night and in the second half. Damn it, this means SO much to you, you CAN do this!!!

So as I look into 2010, the major goal I have set for myself is to get that elusive first "western mountain 100 mile" finish. Where it all started, at Bighorn. That glorious Bighorn mountains backcountry with those tough, endless, breathless climbs. Then if I can do that (and I will!), hopefully maybe I can finish a second 100 around Sept. or so. Wasatch if I get in, or The Bear, or maybe something else.

What will it take to finish Bighorn? I've got to apply the lessons from the last few months and especially the time leading up to Mountain Masochist. Get fighter, faster, and lighter! Stick with the weekly speedwork, and get back into the second hard mid-week workout, like the medium-long "marathon training runs" or hill workouts in Palisades and Rockefeller that worked so well in October. Try to get the weekly mileage up to 80 or so for a couple months. Keep it up with the training diary you've gotten back into using (why did you ever stop?!). Be more systematic in planning the training calendar. Space out the races better, and make sure the last tune-up isn't too close to the big race. Experiment with the altitude simulator device you're planning to be. Find that perfect, elusive tune-up race for late April or early May. Keep the weight down!

I think if I do all those things, I can get to the starting line at Bighorn at maybe 150. Definitely no more than 155. And fitter than I've been for any 100. And race-tested and tuned-up but not over-raced. And make sure I have a strategy that gets me to Porcupine Ranger Station turnaround at mile 48 faster than last time.

That leaves the mental battle--the tough part! The rest is easy! I can make sure I do at least one overnighter in training, which should help. And hopefully this 100K next week helps build confidence beyond the 50 mile distance. But ultimately it will come down to how I can handle adversity when it comes, as it most certainly will. Can I muster enough belief in myself? Hopefully, good races at Bandera, Old Pueblo, and whatever I do in April/May will help keep the recent boost in confidence post-Iroquois going. Maybe try some visualization? What about a sport pscyhologist? A few sessions couldn't hurt, I guess....

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Summing it all up, I'd say 2009 wasn't such a bad year after all. Didn't accomplish all I wanted, and the 100 mile DNF's were true setbacks. But I started and finished the year on high notes, and improved my speed, and think I've latched onto a few keys that can help me make a better effort in 100s. Improved confidence being at the top of the list. If you'd said a couple years ago, I'd finish 4 50 milers (getting my total up to 10) and 2 50K's in a year I would have said "I'd take that in a New York minute." The year ahead promises to be challenging, but most of all full of new adventures. Can't wait!

MMTR Race Report: Masochistic Pleasures of Redemption

2009-11-11T19:03:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the second time is even sweeter! Especially where's there's personal redemption for "sins of recent races" involved! That's certainly the way it was for me this past Saturday at the Mountain Masochist 50 Mile+ in the scenic Blue Ridge Mountains of western VA. My race, the company, the weather, the warm camaraderie of this quintessentially "ultra ultra"--everything seemed just right on this Indian summer November weekend!

Quick Overview

Temps were right at the freezing mark as we started at 5:30, but got up to yjr mid to upper 50s, maybe 60, on the nice mix of single track, jeep roads,dirt roads, and finishing and ending pavement that comprises the gorgeous course of this point to pointer. It was a bright sunny day with plenty of fall color, although a little past peak compared to last year. 267 folks started this 53mile race (with its infamous, long "Horton miles"), and 226 finished under the 12 hour cutoff.

Our pal Glen Redpath had a fabulous day, finishing 7th in 7:45. A course record of more than 15 minutes, at 6:27, was set by a team Montrail runner who came in from Alaska. This Montrail Ultra Cup race features a top elite field, and the top two women finishers were Canadian.

The other friend who shared the trip, Lisa Madden, negative split a course that is heavily backloaded in difficulty in terms of technical single track, in a time of 10:35. This was her 4th MMTR, I believe.

I'm happy to report a 50-mile trail PR of 30 minutes on my end. My goal was to break 11 hours, and yes (should I get in that lottery) I managed a WS qualifying time with a 10:53 on the last official day of 2010 qualifying! (Just as with qualifying for Boston, half the thrill is actually in teh qualifying, right?)

Thank goodness for those late downhills where you can make up for lost time! An early glute issue faded with some Advil, and ginger cubes and Pepcid AC and sticking mostly to energy chews and Heed in the latter half kept some stomach rumblings under control. Felt strong most of the way, with the inevitable bad patches,and was able to run a lot more of those long runable steep dirt-road hills than last year. Helps to know the course your training for the second time around!

I had a great time hanging out with Glen and Lisa, as we drove to/from Richmond airport and stayed at the same hotel. Glen even managed to find a brewpub for us to have lunch the day before (I passed on the brew) and see a little of historic downtown Lynchburg. We had fun at the pre- and post-race dinners, and hanging out in my room with wine and beer after the race, as Glen regaled us with out of school tales about various ultrarunning elites. Unfortunately, Garth was a last-minute scratch from our original foursome, as he got called away on some business and couldn't make the trip.

MMTR is a really special race with a family feel and is managed with incredible care and professionalism (along with, by all reports, all the other races in theLynchburg Ultra series and The Beast series). Plus Horton keeps everyone institches at the pre- and post-race dinners with his non-stop humor. A guru and pioneer of our sport since its early days, but yet he's nice enough to come upafterwards to you and say, "Great race! I saw you cross the finish line, andy ou had a big smile on your race!" Indeed, I did!

For the ultra hardcore types, please read on for the blow by blow....
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It sure helps to do a race on the same course, with some time to do some focused training. MMTR is more runable than all the other 50s I've done (except JFK), with a greater quotient of smooth dirt and about 6.5 miles together with single track and a bit gnarlier jeep roads. This time around, I trained especially for that, focussing in October on some mid-week long runable hills, which paid off. So did having a lot of last year's splits on my pace chart, and being able to know from that and experience on the course where I stood, and where I needed to push it. The net result was I made my goal of sub-11, and posted a 31 minute PR with a 10:5d (compared to last year's 11:24).

The alarm sounded at 2:20, to give me time for the usual breakfast and pre-race routines prior to making it across the straight for the bus for the 4AM departure for the start. It was just about freezing at the 5:30AM start in the pitch black. Glen, Lisa, I, and most of the runners stayed on the nice warm bus till the last few minutes, getting off only to hit the port-a-sans.

The first 5.7 miles on the road were pretty uneventful. I felt like I ran a bit more of the latter steeper hilly sections than last year. But I didn't check my watch againt my pace chart at the first manned aid station (Cashaw Creek at Aid #2). The race splits they posted afterwards indicated I was right on last year's time.

As we did the mile out and back past the starting line I recall realizing for the first time, as I looked up, what a beautiful starry sky we were running under. Crossing the bridge over the river just prior to Cashaw, the views in either direction of the water, what I recall was a dam, and sunrise over the mountains was spectacular, and I stopped to take a shot with my usual Kodak digital disposable. Feeling good and controlled so far!

At 5.7 we hit a nice section of single track that turned into jeep road, featuring a lot of climbing. It was still fairly crowded, which isn't my favorite way to experience single track. A few runners passed me, but I ran good stretches of the hills till the grade got steep, and probably passed more.

I had a brief scare about an hour and a half in, as I could feel my right glute and upper hamstring and sacrum area kind of tighten up. Earlier in the week I had experienced a lot of bilateral tightness in that same general area in my short taper runs, and had to spend a lot of time stretching and with foam rollers to loosen it up. So I was wary of it flaring up in the race, as it seemed to be now. So, I had to kind of change my gait and slow down some, and then took some Advil about 1:30 into the race, much earlier than I usually do. Anyway, that brought us into Aid #3 at Peavine Mountain. I believe I checked my chart here, and I was up maybe 2 minutes on last year's split, but a little worried that a stupid little muscular thing would undermine what was taking shape otherwise as a promising race, based on my pace and how I felt energy- and breathing-wise.

From there it was a downhill section that was somewhat gnarly but still quite runable single track, and I let loose a little and passed some folks and was feeling good. I think the combo of the meds and the faster cadence of the downhills helped loosen that whole problem area up, and it was pretty much not an issue the rest of the race, thank goodness! I always love those types of windy, gradual, semi-technical downs where you can just let the momentum carry you, and in this case they were downright therapeutic! There were a couple of easily navigated creek crossings that were rock-hoppable. That brought us into Aid#4 at mile 11.2 (these are official Horton mileages based on a 50 mile course that I report throughout, not actual mileage, which in the view of most is around 53 or so for the whole course!). Here I left with a two minute gap on my '08 pace, so I made good time.

The section to AS#5 at Parkway Gate at 14.9 was more gently rolling, and by this point things had thinned out nicely, and I felt like my pace was picking up. But according to the post-race splits, I was now up only one minute on my '08 pace.

After a short downhill on jeep road, it was on to a section of 12 miles or so that was continuous wide dirt road, some of it gravel. And it started straight up, with the longest, steepest climb of the race so far! I was conscious of the sun and the warming temps, as here we got more direct sunlight even though the road has forest cover on both sides. This was the type of section I dreaded from last year, for the combination of the monotony and the fact that I couldn't make good time despite outstanding footing due to the steepness and length of the climb--a real grind! But this year I had prepared for it, mentally and physically! I think I set the tone for the rest of the race by running good long stretches of the 500 foot or so climb (to about 2,000 ft) up to AS#6 at the AT crossing, at mile 17.5. I passed LOTS of people, who were walking, mostly in groups. I kept telling myself to run up to a particular tree or other landmark, and then when it got steeper I would allow myself brief walk breaks, but focusing on power walking, and then transition back to running when the grade lessened. I wasn't breathing too hard, so this really boosted my confidence.

I was a little surprised, really somewhat shocked, to catch up to Lisa as we approached AS#6, which is the AT crossing. I asked her if she was ok, and she said she was taking it easy, and seemed to be in good spirits. My pace chart told me I was up by around 12 minutes on last year's split, meaning I'd made really good time up that long climb. But would I pay later on?, I couldn't help but wonder a little? Yet I felt strong, and even surged ahead of Lisa and the woman she was running with at that moment.... for a little while at least!

Keeping to my pattern for the day of getting through the aid stations quickly, I simply would fill my handheld, and sometimes grab a bite of potato or banana but mostly was relying on what I was carrying--energy gels and chews, Heed (consumed 3 8-ouncers over the day), Perpeteum (1 8 oz.), Ensure (only half one bottle), and some trail mix.

The next section took us mostly downhill to AS#7 at Lynchburg Reservoir (20.2) and AS#8 at north end of the reservoir (22.3). I think it was more gravelly here, and I felt a little the pounding of the descent, after the slower pace of the previous climb. I vaguely recall I had maybe 12 minutes on my '08 pace at this point.

From here the road began to climb significantly, and in this section some folks whom I'd passed on the earlier long climb passed me back, including Lisa. I felt a drop in energy in this section. But I tried to make sure I was still eating and drinking, and wouldn't let myself lapse into walking too long on the long gradual hills. In retrospect, this my first major lull of the race, so I was a little surprised to check my pacechart at AS#9 at mile 24.6, and discover I had built around a 20 minute gap on last year's pace! This was a real mental boost, and I had also been picking up my pace a little coming into that station. But one of two things must have been happening, as I look back on it--my pace chart splits may be a little off from '08 (didn't hit the watch at all the stations) and I was further ahead of the pace than I realized at the previous stations, or I had slowed down a lot less on the uphill section from 8 to 9 this time around (I recall it being a long, slow, boring slog in '08).

Also, last year I had lost maybe 10 minutes somewhere around mile 14 or 15 with an unplanned "trip to the woods." This year I managed to stave off the stomach problems that started surfacing at various points, particularly the latter half, with a combination of Immodium, Pepcid AC, and ginger cubes and minimizing the solids.

Anyway, bouyed by newfound energy and confidence that I would have a shot at getting under 11 hours, I moved pretty well on the climb up to AS #10 at Highway 60, at mile 26.9. The views were great out across the meadows and peaks, and I stopped to take a few shots. This marks more or less the halfway point time-wise in the course, Horton always tells folks. Though what the second half of the course may lack in distance, it more than makes up for with tougher single track sections and challenging trail climbs!

I was thrilled to get into this station in such good time. It has lots of crew, a ton of volunteers, and is the only drop bag station. Remembering I had dawdled some and felt pretty spent at this station in '08, I focussed on trying to get through quickly. So in the space of 10 minutes I managed to change my technical tee (keeping the arm warmers and vest I wore with them all day), shed my gloves for fingerless biking gloves and my winter Injinji cap with ear flaps for a lighter North Face summerish cap, do a brief lube and sunscreen, swap out my two mini-bottles of endurance drinks for new ones, fill my handheld, and graba bit of food and cup of water. I felt like a man on a mission, and charged out of there feeling quite optimistic! As I looked at my watch when I left, it was 5:31, compared to 5:53 last year. I knew last year I managed to "negative split," so I was confident I was in range to reach my goal if I could just do the same this year!

It's a steep, long climb out of that aid station, back onto a narrow jeep road that is really more like double-track of sorts, all the way up to Buck Mountain. Looks to be close to 1,000 feet or so of pretty serious ascent on the elevation chart. I felt pretty good going up, alternating runing and powerwalking, compared to laboring up it in '08. As you switchback your way up the mountainside, you can hear the loud "Rocky" theme music for miles and miles, tempting you into thinking you're getting closer than you really are. Unfortunately, by the time you get there, you're pretty sick of the short tape loop, and wonder how the volunteers can stand it! Another feature of the Buck Mountain AS, #11 at mile 29.5, are the various biblical proverbs about "races" and "perseverance" posted on signs as you approach. Guess I was prepared, as I wasn't as amused or "weirded out" as I was by this mixing of sport and religion as I was last year!

From there it's a nice downhill, continuing on jeep road that gets a little wider, to AS#12 at mile 32.1, at the crossing of FS 48 and 520. I think it was a peanut better or turkey and cheese sandwich I ate at the "Christian" aid station (or was it the proverbs?) that didn't sit too well, leading me to reach for the Immodium and the ginger cubes now. If I'd avoided trips to the woods this long, I didn't want to have to make one now! I also think I may have felt the first cramping of the day here (hamstrings), so I popped a couple Endurolytes, and tried to focus on drinking more (I seldom downed a full 16 oz. bottle of water between the frequent aid stations). I moved through the descents fairly well, but not really full throttle. The legs felt heavy enough, and it was early enough, that it didn't seem to make sense to push the envelope too much. The main thing was, I was mostly running instead of walking, and I think I came into AS#12 with a 22 minute margin on my '08 pace.

From here it's a steep, dusty dirt road climb, with lots of annoying support and crew vehicles whose drivers probably don't realize how much dust they're stirring as they whiz by. I kept having to rub my eyes with my bandanna. After it being pretty spread out since the halfway point, there was now sort of a conga line of runners here, forced to one side of the road by the cars and exchanging some pleasantries about the course and weather and such. After a quick right turn, we hit AS #13A, at Hog Camp Gap, which marks the start of the (officially) 5 mile single track loop. I don't recall checking my chart here.

The rather infamous loop section first has a gradual descent with good footing, then goes up steeply for quite a while with somewhat rockier footing, up past 4,000 feet to the high point of the race at 4,400 or so (or very close to it). Then it has a nice descent, which is steep in places and gradual in others. I got passed by some folks on the initial section, and was feeling a little fatigued. I think the transition back to single track after all the more runable stuff is a little difficult on both the legs and mind. But I got back some energy on the climbs, and then was able to move quite well on the final, downhill section of the loop, passing several runners over the last mile or two. At one point, there is a particularly rocky and steep downhill I remembered well from last year, and I felt nimble enough to manuever down it swiftly, passing a woman who was carefully wending her way down and who waved me through.

Overall, I remember this loop as being incredible long and slow last year, but somehow it seemed to go by much more quickly this year. I believe I pulled out of AS#13B at mile 38.6, at the end of the loop, with something like a 22-23 minute gap on last year's time. It was at that station that I saw Steve, a guy from Maryland whom I know from Phunt 50K and is a good friend of Garth's, I believe for the second time that day. I wasn't quite sure if he was already there ahead of me, or what, as I hadn't seen him pass me after I had overtaken him miles before. No matter. He seemed a little winded, and made some comment on how tough the race was. Since I was kind of running with blinders on, I avoided much conversation, and never really found myself hooking up with anyone all day, as I often find myself doing when I'm sort of feeling in a "zone."

I dashed off quickly onto the gravel road section that followed the loop, knowing I still needed to put a couple more minutes into last year's time to get under 11 hours. The first half of this officially 2.9 mile section is steady downhill, the second steady uphill. Nothing at Masochist is EVER flat (in fact, I believe it was in this section that I told a guy just this when I thought at first he asked "isn't there any flat on this course?"...in fact, he was saying that he tried to visualize it being flat so he could manage the hills better!). I felt pretty good on this section, with the momentum from the end of the single track, and pulled into Salt Log Gap at AS#14, with my margin over last year still around 21, 22 minutes.

From there it was back onto jeep road, for a pretty steep climb up to the Forest Valley AS#15 at mile 43.0. This was sufficiently steep that I didn't do much walking at all. It kind of felt good to walk after running pretty much all the previous section, actually! I ran into Steve again at this AS, still confused about whether I was catching him or he me, but I pulled away quickly leaving it, as he and other person there lingered a little more. By this point, I didn't have any more splits to go by from last year, but as I left the station, I saw from my pace card that I was behind 11 hour pace--damn, had I given a lot of time back?! I knew these calculations assumed an even pace, and that some glorious downhill awaited the last 5 miles or so. But still I realized I would be cutting it very close!

The initial mile and a half or so of this section, leading up to the last aid station, has a lot of climbing, some of it quite steep. You go up to right around 4,400 feet again. Some of it is "hands on knees" type stuff, and I was doing the "mountaineer cross-over step" on some of it to try to redistribute the muscle burn around a bit. But I felt energetic. Then we got to the nice downhill section, which has some rolls, and a few nice ridgetop views, before you descend down to the aid at Porters Ridge at 47.1

I passed maybe 4-5 people in this mostly downhill section, who all had encouraging words, though I sensed two guys coming up on me as we hit the steep descent into the station, where I sped up and got a little distance. They were coming in to the station, just as I was leaving. I was now in full charge mode, just as I had been last year! I did ask how many miles were left, and when "2.9" came back, I asked if they were real or Horton miles, to which I got different replies from the two volunteers--yes and no! Anyway, I knew from '08 that the next section was probably more like 3.5 or so, but was also all downhill, some of it quite steep, and all of it runnable! I'm not sure what the finishing elevation is, but I believe it's less than 1,000, like the start. And if Porter's Ridge a little ways before the last AS is 4,000+, you figure in the last 3.5 miles or so (really in the space of 2.5) you are descending a good 2,000-2,500 feet easily.

I was totally dialed in now to the effort to pull off another swift finish like last year, but this time with a better cushion to build on. I don't quite recall exactly, but I believe my watch indicated that I now had something like a 26 minute gap on 11 minute pace by my chart, which meant I could just make it under 11 hours. But I knew I still had to hustle!

This section features winding, slightly rocky, gradually descending jeep road, with a lot of crossing of short little trickles that I suppose are little creeks if water is higher. Unlike the rest of the day, I didn't hop rocks or avoid them, I rushed through them. Who cares about wet feet at that point in a race?! As we switchbacked our way down the mountain toward the finish, I first passed one couple I hadn't seen since early in the race, and then another guy. At this point I could feel the rocks under the toes, and the stress on the legs. I was now moving into drinking every 10 minutes, and taking Endurolytes about that often, and on one occasion took two to ward off cramps. By myself and charging down a beautiful, wind-y forested section, I was yelling loudly to urge myself on and to sort of get through the pain of the effort. But they were glorious yells of reveling in the effort, and there seemed to be no one around to hear them!

After a couple little turns that I remember being tricky last year but well marked this, you emerged onto a gravel road, which takes you VERY steeply downhill. If you don't break, you literally FLY down that sucker! I was doing all I could not to brake, though my quads and knees were straining. As I came up along four twenty-somethings walking abreast and away from me toward the bottom (couldn't tell if they were hikers or runners, as they were walking), I shouted "Runner coming through!" They stepped aside just in time to let me fly past. Somewhere just before a guy had passed me, and he was the only one to pass me from the next to last AS on, compared to a good 8 or more I had passed over that stretch.

Just before you hit the road, you see "1 mile to go" written in chalk on the dirt road. Once on the road, it's flat to rolling, with a couple turns. I was trying to remember if it was a real or Horton mile (turns out it's a real mile!). At that point, my watch said 10:44, and I pretty much knew I was home free! The guy who had passed me was out of sight around the curves, and no one was visible behind me, so I didn't have to go into overdrive, but still kept moving pretty quickly, filled with energy and adrenaline! I had to suppress some sobs of joy, as I had also earlier back on the downhill, as I realized that a sub-11 time and a PR were in sight!

It felt awesome to be moving swiftly with no real pain as I made the last little turn into the parking area and crossed the finish line, under the beatiful late afternoon sunshine! I had a huge grin on my face, and pumped my fist! You really have to love the last 4-5 miles of this one if you're a downhiller, and this year that section brought me a special gift!

*****************************************************************************
Whatever I did right in training since we got back from Mexico on Oct. 4th, I want to bottle it and save it for future races (no, it's not for sale)! Sometimes you get into vicious cycles like I had toward the middle of the year, but sometimes you stumble into virtuous circles: better training --> improved confidence --> better training --> weight loss --> better training.

To be specific: Going back to coached speedwork classes with Mike built speed and confidence I could still run and not just dawdle. The medium-long runs mid-week at Rockefeller were perfect for building hill strength on runnable trails, as were the sessions of hill reps with lots more running than usual at the Palisades. Plus the different type of lower-body strength exercises Mike suggested. And the long runs at Bear Mountain, Palisades, and Mohonk gave me a good variety of hilly surfaces and terrain well suited for this race. Overall I packed in a lot of mileage but stayed healthy over a tought three-week peak training period. Backed off a little on the upper body stuff, and stuck to the weekly yoga., too. The weight came down (which for me is SO key), and was in the 155-157 range compared to low to mid 160s around the time of Iroquois. My confidence grew throughout, and I knew 11 hours was quite doable.

All in all, this was my best race since probably Calico in January, where I set my 50K PR. And I was SO overdue for a good race after Massanutten, Cascade and Iroquois!

Now let's see if I can keep applying these lessons...starting with Hellgate in 5 weeks! I seem to be improving at the 50 mile and 50K distances, but let's see I can take it past that toward those races with "100" in the name! But for now, I want to bask in the joy of this one for a little while!

Gorgeous Fall Run in the 'Gunks at the Wagathon!

2009-10-28T20:46:00.001-07:00

What's your idea of a fat ass run? Would a run where you don't even realize who the "organizer" (director?) is till the after-party qualify? Or maybe one where a bunch of shivering cold runners look around at each other until someone says "let's go" in order to get the show on the road (er, trail)?!

The 4th annual (?) highly informal event known as the "Wagathon" or simply "the Wag" took place this past Sunday in the spectacular fall foliage and near Indian summer weather of the Minnewaska and Mohonk Preserves near New Paltz, NY. By following a list of turns and trails the organizer, a great guy named Felix, posted on the web and circulated by e-mail, we all navigated a series of challenging, hilly, and very scenic single-track and carriage trails in self-supported fashion, with a considerable amount of scrambling thrown in for good measure! The "course" was roughly a marathon, but most of us (I hear we were roughly 30) missed at least a couple turns at some point, so in my case and that of others around me, I think we got in a good 28 or so. It was a bit of a Jeckyll and Hyde, in the sense that the carriageways were quite runable if often steep, while the single track was often quite rocky and technical, and the scrambles were among the toughest I've faced on any organized run or race.

Friends Lisa, Garth, and I drove up to the event, along with our recently AWOL trail pal Melissa, who chose to do a shorter run/hike over part of the course since she hasn't been putting in as many miles lately (or maybe just wanted to soak in the peak foliage?!). After a god awful 5AM departure from the city, we met our friend Glen Redpath at the race finish area at 6:45 or so. His wonderful folks, visiting from Canada, were kind enough to ferry us in Glen's car and that of one other runner, Jim from CT, to the start in Cragsmoor, as the course is point to point.

The real highlights of the day were all the views--up to and down from the incredible cliffs, of the various lakes and ponds we ran by and looked down upon, of waterfalls, north to the Catskills and south to who knows which ranges and really in all directions, down from Mohonk Mountain (I think that's the name) of the spectacular Mohonk House, which looks like some transplanted European castle. Just gorgeous stuff! For much of the first 18 miles or so we were running near or right alongside incredible ridgelines. This was my first trip to these preserves, though I'd been to the general area, and I was blown away by its beauty.

This was one tough course! I think for Garth, me, and Lisa it more than served its ostensible purpose as a last long training run before Mountain Masochist (in VA on 11/7). Though mainly it was just plain fun! We got the runable very hilly dirt roads (carriageways), the slightly gnarlier versions of the same, and the hilly technical singletrack, all of which we'll face in a couple weeks on another course that also constantly changes up the surface (and piles on the climbs and descents!). Apparently, they had increased the single track quotient from previous years, when carriageways were more the focus. Fine with me! The early single track was quite muddy and at times under a few inches of water from the previous days' rains, though my Seal Skinz socks held their own. I particularly enjoyed the hand-over-fist scrambling in the Giant's Workshop, the section called the Crevice, and then in the climb up to Mohonk Mountain and the Castle around the famous "lemon squeezer" section, where you have to carefully hoist yourself up (after waiting a half hour in line with all the leaf-watchers and a group of boy or cub scouts ahead of us).

I felt pretty good. Early on when we got to single track for the first time I decided to move ahead of one group so I could try to hang with Lisa and Jim, who were moving at a good clip and seemed to have a good sense of the turns (Lisa having done the Wag before and knowing the Gunks well). Turns out I was right on the first count but not on the second---trying to be lazy on the navigation so I could just focus on the running proved to be a bad decision! We missed one turn and had to double back, adding maybe a half mile. Anyway, I breathlessly hung with them as best I could (thankfully there were occasional quick stops for route checks or bathroom breaks or photo ops!) on through the steep carriage trail that took us to a number of viewpoints.

Somewhere around mile 13 or so, though, we realized we had missed a turn. I pointed out to them that, though we had unwittingly cut the course a bit and bypassed a viewpoint called Gertrude's Nose, that it looked from the map like maybe we had cut off just about as much distance as we had added on with our earlier missed turn and backtracking. No dice! These guys were sticklers, insisting we go out and back along the steep, rocky trail down to Gertrude's, to make up for the "two legs of the triangle" we had missed. So I reluctantly followed them (still not wanting to take charge of my own navigation in an unfamiliar setting!).

The exertion of trying to keep up caught up to me, I found the faint blazes difficult to follow, and I fell back. As we came across runners going the opposite (correct) direction, I began to think, "this is crazy!" Once I encountered Garth coming my way, who I hadn't seen for 5 miles or so, I said to myself, "screw this, it isn't a race, and I'll easily put in more than the 'official' distance anyway!" So I hooked up with him, and we stayed together the rest of the day, sometimes briefly hooking up with others. As anticipated Lisa and Jim overtook us a few miles later anyway!

Like others, we had stashed water by one bridge (and really the only highway crossing) around mile 18, so that was our lone "aid stop." The rest of the course from there got pretty slow with all the scrambles mentioned above, and particularly with the long wait as people and especially kids got hoisted up the lemon squeezer (basically a hole in the rocks above you some 8 or 10 feet, with only minimal footholds between the opening and the bottom). I think we hit peak hour, on a peak fall day (it was sunny, breezy at times on the ridges, and probably hit mid 50s or so, but I kept on my long sleeve tee and vest and was fine).

Once we got through the lemon squeezer, got up to the top and the castle, and picked up our obligatory playing cards from the deck Felix had stashed there, we had to hightail it on the carriage trails (mostly downhill from there) over the last 5 miles or so. The day was getting late, we suspected we were the last ones out there (we had seen Lisa and Jim last going up to the castle), and there was the business of a beer and some German food to take care of at the "afterparty" at the Mountain Brauhaus (technically the finish, though we parked a 1/4 mile away at the Visitor's Center, and that was where the trail ended, and so did we).
I hit my watch at exactly 8 hours once we finally found the right lot among the many in a full late afternoon parking lot, which was just a bit more time on our feet than we had expected (especially given the good time we were making during the first half of the race, with its greater measure of carriageways). Somehow Glen had run the whole thing (and then some) in something like 5:30, and by the time we got to the restaurant was just leaving (beer in hand in the parking lot!) with his parents. One fast dude! And apparently two guys finished ahead of him (though rumor has it they may have been locals who took some judicious shortcuts?!).

Met some great folks from the New Paltz/Catskill area and CT during the outing. It was fun hanging out with them and enjoying a good Heffweizen and Schnitzel afterwards! The whole outing was really the epitome of the best of a fat ass event--great company, beautiful, challenging trails, an incredible setting, superb weather. Oh yeah, and no fees, no schwag, no official results or awards, no bitching--just good old-fashioned small-group trail fun! Thanks so much to Lisa for turning us on to this true gem of a event, and for organizing the whole outing for our NYC based contingent.

Can't wait for the next Wag!

Losing My Way (Iroquois Trails 100 Initial Report)

2009-09-21T12:03:00.000-07:00

Here's a first stab at a a recap I posted on the Yahoo user group I moderate (more gory details to follow later!):

We had a beautiful weather weekend in the Finger Lakes region. Saturday was sunny with highs in low 60s. The course features a real nice blend of forestedand moderately technical single track, steep ski trails at the Greek Peak skiresort, dirt roads, and a tiny bit of pavement. 18K each of climbing anddescent, and folks who have done it by comparison rate the course harder thanstalwarts like Vermont 100 and even Western States. But it makes up for thatwith a generous 36 hour 100 cutoff and 13 hour 50 cutoff.

I only saw her before as we huddled in my car with training partner Garth to stay warm (it wasprobably upper 30s then!) and on the course. But local NYC friend Cherie seemed in good spiritswhen we passed on and out and back, and had a great result. They aren't postedfor the 50, but I believe her time was well under 12 hours, as she had hoped. Yeah Cherie! Look forward to hearing more!

Garth fought through ITB band problems to finish in 12:27, very close to (maybejust under?) last year's time. By the time I saw him on the out and back nearthe Daisy Hollow Rd. turnaround (his mile 38ish) he said he had taken threeAlleves with no relief. But his stomach and energy were ok and he seemed ingood spirits. So clearly he toughed it out from there to match last year's timeunder those conditions! Way to go, Garth! Hope you'll tell us more!

Local NYC standout runner Glenn Redpath, known to many of you out there, did anincredible encore from winning a 100 mile race in his native Canada the weekendbefore by coming in second in the IT 100! In an amazing time of 18:56! To topit off, he's registered to run the VT 50 next weekend. What a triple that wouldbe!

Well, saving the least result for last (or most running for least to show for it!), I missed the cutoff at mile 73, for mylongest DNF in a 100. In actuality, I probably ran maybe 78-79 miles or so, andtherein lies the rub. By my calculations, I lost (very conservatively) 2 hourstotal to "navigational errors," not usually a huge issue for me. A little 10minute normal-type "couldn't figure out where the trail continues" deal in thefirst half, and then a more costly 20-25 minute or so, mile and a half or sotype deal in the first night section in the Greek Peak ski area. In the latterI messed up on two intersections that weren't marked with glowsticks (and onewasn't even flagged), and another runner ahead of me who had done the same andgotten lost and I struggled back and forth to get back on trail finally. What'seasy to follow in the morning with other runners becomes trickier alone atnight.

But a certain amount of course-following errors are standard fare at 100s onsingle track, and those first two alone would have been quite manageabletime-wise. The kicker was the third nav error, which happened at night in(ironically) the first section with my pacer, a great guy named Jason who's fromIthaca who also paced me in that same section last year. Somehow we managed inthe twisty, turny forested trails under a moonless, starlit sky to double backon ourselves when were maybe 4.5 miles or so into the 6.3 mile section, andbasically run back in the opposite direction. Our bad as the Finger Lakestrail is pretty well blazed to start with, but nightime can be a whole differentdeal. True, though, the race's reflective tape was used more sparingly than itmight have been there (and no glowsticks I can recall there except at majorturns).

Really it was my bad for not following Jason's urgings for me to always take thelead, which is the usual pacing method on single track (we traded off informallyas I would slow down to get food out of pockets or adjust my three layers in thenear-freezing temps, and I kind of liked letting someone else navigate toconserve energy frankly). Anyway, as they say, two are more likely to get lostthan one if talking up a storm, as we caught up from last year! Jason thoughtfor some time we were possibly going in the wrong direction, but it was hard toget any bearings at night that would tell us, with no landmarks like a nearbypeak or moon or anything to orient us.So we pressed on at my urging!

We only realized for sure we were going in the opposite way when we came across a guy I knew was well behind me (based on earlyout and backs). Then the course sweeps with radioes sent out from the next aidstation came across us once we had righted outselves and asked if we were ok--wehad been out so long on that section they had sent out the cavalry!Bottom line: In a 6.3 mile section that should have taken us no more than 2:20or so based on last year's splits and how I felt our pace was this, we did 4:04!A good 1 1/2 to 1 3/4 hour of extra time! From there it became a racing the cutoffs story, and when those start that early in a 100, well...you know how they end,and it's never pretty!

All the huge cushion I had built up with my conservative pacing strategy the first half (I had 20 hours left to run what I had just run in 14 hours) just melted away on a late summer's night. The typical fading pace in the pre-dawn hours that occurred again this year (surprise, surprise!) was simply the coup de grace (down to 25 minute miles) rather than the main culprit. We had come in right at the cutoff at mile 67.5 . But slowing toa crawl at those lowest-energy moments of the race before sunrise wasanticipated, and shouldn't have been fatal. If I missed the 73.8 cutoff back at the start/finish by 50 minutes, well, you can do the math on how much time I hadthrown away on stupid nav problems! And the buck stops with yours truly on those!

This particular 100 DNF hurts REALLY bad--I didn't break down physically or mentally, which is more than often the case, but instead threw away the race with stupid rookie mistakes. Leave it me to find a new twist on a 100 DNF! I willbeat myself up for a long time about this one!

Thing is, I felt really good and confident and under control the first half, and was right where I wanted to be on my pace chart halfway in and up to mile 56. I still had a shot at last year's 32:45, and if not making that, a cushion of 3:15 in which to still post a finish in the generous 36 hours allocated (10 of the 29 starters would end up DNFing this year, none past mile 73).

But I want to keep it in perspective. However much DNFs can leave you sobbing in the portasan afterwards (don't ask, I was sleep-deprived!), trail 100s remain compelling challenges. I guess, since there's such a high risk/reward ratio in terms of satisfaction if you defy the odds--at least as a back of the packer-- and still make it there. Like the satisfaction of getting your first 50 finish, or that first marathon finish, but magnified. I'll lick my wounds for a while, and hope to summon the courage to get back out there for my (lucky?) seventh 100 start some time not too far down the pike! All wounds heal, right?! Even self-inflicted ones, I hope!

As for the race organization itself, Ian Golden and his great band of wonderful volunteers and the local fire department did a bang-up job with staging this event again. Even better stocked aid stations which remain well spaced, great pre-and post-racemeals, improved markings, a couple minor course changes that added a little single track, etc., etc. Crew, spectator, and pacer-friendly. This year they added a 100 mile relay event, which had three teams (of three up to a maximum offive). Can't say enough about what a great race it is! And it has that low-key, grassroots feel that Ian told me afterwards he wants to keep even as itcontinues to grow. Next year it will be called Virgil Crest (50/100/relay), and will be held againthe third weekend of September. Mark your calendar! Congrats again to Cherie, Garth, and Glenn!

[a more detailed section by section rundown to follow....]

Back to Iroquois Seeking Some Redemption

2009-09-09T18:49:00.001-07:00

After a good last week and half of training, and some reflection, I decided the 100 mile fire is still burning...so I pulled the trigger and signed up for the Iroquois Trails 100 on 9/19-20 upstate, near Cortland and Ithaca. I really want to get that second 100 under my belt, and this seems like the opportunity. Familiar course and faces, prospect of cool temps this last weekend of summer/first of fall, a generous 36 hour cutoff, a chance to measure myself against last year's 32:45....everything seems to point to seizing this chance!

Motivated by the Cascade disappointment, I decided I should try to squeeze in some quality training before committing to IT, given how much I'd cut back before the race. So I put in a solid 60+ last week, including a good 10 mile tempo run, 1 1/2 hr trail run just before I left Washington State, and a 20 miler on the Palisades trails with Garth last Friday, followed by a reasonably hard 1 1/2 hours in Central park on Sat. Those runs, plus a nice faster and shorter tempo run yesterday (6 miles), have me feeling better about my fitness and motivation (not to mention my weight!). So now it's taper time (again!). But first a few hills reps in the Palisades with Garth tomorrow. But not too many!

I need to formulate a good gameplan, but I can use last year's splits and experience at IT for that. The basic idea: to even out the superfast/superslow 50 mile splits into some kind of more manageable and sustainable pace I won't fall off so much on the (identical) second half. If I did the first half in like 13:15 last year, then maybe try to do it in 14 or 14:30. It's tricky, since we run with the 50 milers the first half. Easy to get sucked up into their pace.

I'll try to make a couple other changes in nutrition and in gear. On nutrition: Much more careful with what I eat the morning of and days preceding. During the race, I'm going to make sure I have bland salty stuff like pretzels and saltines in my drop bags, especially for the nighttime. And will look into a thermos of chicken soup at the start/finish AS we go through 5 times. And maybe even cans of it I can pop open in the nighttime drop bags, as last year there wasn't any beyond mile 55 and through most of the night. Even if cold, it might be one of the blandest, most nutritious things I can get down in the witching hours, where the stomach got weak last year.

On gear, I just got the Nathan running vest I ordered on-line today. Will test out tomorrow. If I can slip an extra layer, gels, lights, whatever in the handy front and rear pockets, I can keep the Fuelbelt lighter. And hopefully I can forego having to carry the heavy maps and case I did for CCC!

I'm very psyched that Jayson, my nighttime pacer from last year who lives in Ithaca, is willing to come out and show me some more of his owl calls this year. That will be a big help! And happy that the RD Ian allowed me to take my time in deciding whether to sign up....I'm in now! Here goes another adventure!

Stomach Does Me in at Cascade Crest

2009-08-30T19:26:00.000-07:00

Well, now I can add stomach troubles to the list of things that have done me in (I've allowed to do me in) at 100s! Not entirely sure why (thought that pulled pork sandwich that tasted so good on Friday lunch in Roslyn, the mining town where they filmed Northern Exposure exterior, may have had something to do with it!). But even the first hour it felt upset, and I waited to taste my first calories till an hour in, longer than usual. Then not longer after the second gel an hour and half in, it was my first trip to the woods with the Big D. Shortly after mile 15, there was another. And all along there a lot of stomach cramps, and a sort of heaviness and queasiness that got sharper on downhills. Tried some ginger cubes, had an Immodium, and then a Pepcid AC.

By around 20 or so as I we got on the Pacific Crest Trail, it was better, and I was feeling pretty good about my pace. It felt steady, and I was happy to be under a 17 minute pace when I got to mile 23, where my pacers David and Darren were there to greet me as it was a crew location. I felt strong at that point. Miles 23 to 30 were probably among my strongest, as we had the gentle rolls and nice footing and forest cover of the PCT. I passed back a few people who had passed me earlier. 30 to 33 I slowed somewhat, had to work a little harder on the climbs, and got passed back by some folks.

Mile 33 at Stampede Pass was an aid station location. I changed my shirt, put on my headlamp, swapped and filled bottles, etc. My stomach was starting to feel quesy again, and I got excited when they offered soup but wavered when they said they only had beef broth with noodles, but accepted it. By the time I left after maybe 10-15 minutes, I was pretty discouraged to see that I was only 9 minutes under an 18 minute pace, meaning I had slowed considerably the previous 10 miles. And to see that I was only 45 minutes up on the cutoff there, and to hear the volunteers talk of when they would shut down, and how many runners were still on the course behind me (not many!). Plus it was quickly getting dark in the deep forest, and I saw not a soul in those long 8 miles to mile 41 at Meadow Mountain.

It seemed to coincide with that period of darkness and verifying how far behind schedule I had fallen (I really wanted to make it to mile 53 with closer to a 17 minute pace as the second half of the course is tougher and slower) that my stomach really went south again. Heaviness, queasiness, cramps. I stopped at one point thinking I might throw up. I started to fall behind my eating and drinking schedule. Partly distracted by my growing concern and sense I needed to pick it up, and partly by the greater effort it took to check the watch. Since nothing was appetizing (gels, energy chews, Heed, the small doses of Perpeteum that I forced myself to stomach a few times), I was probably eating every 45 minutes instead of my usual 30. So that fed into my falling pace. One gel particularly went over lousy. I could sense that my pace was really slowing to a shuffle even thought it was pretty runnable and rolling. I was also realizing how many hours of darkness running alone awaited me till I picked up Darren at Hyak at mile 53 (the downside of that 10AM start!).

I kept thinking when am I going to get to this aid station, and wondering about my prospects for continuing. Could I drop there? Should I? As I looked at my split and did the math in my head, coming into Meadown Mountain, I could see that my pace had fallen to roughly 20 minutes in the previous section, meaning I was getting close to a 19 minute cumulative pace. I knew that no one who finished last year had gotten to Hyak at 53 with much slower than a 17 minute pace, and about all had had a good two hours on the cutoffs by 53, and I was looking at maybe barely getting there under it if maybe I was fortune enough to rally and the stomach get better and I could resume running.

I asked the volunteers if they had soup, and they gave me 1/3 of a cup of some kind of tasteless non-descriptive vegeterian noodles that didn't taste good or go down well. I dipped a couple potatoes in salt, but my stomach felt so bloated I couldn't finish them, so I didn't even finish it and threw it in the trash. I knew I needed to eat, but nothing looked appetizing. The grilled cheese they offered looked frankly disgesting, as had the PBJ there and elsewhere which is normally something I jump at. That was when I asked who the aid station captain was, and asked her what would happen if I dropped there (was there road access? and could they get us back to the start or to Hyak?). There was another runner sitting there who was in the same boat. Guy from Colorado. Turns out they would be closing up fairly shortly, and that once the four outstanding runners and the sweeps had come in, they could give me and him a ride to the start/finish in Easton. So that was what I ended up doing.

Will I replay that decision in my mind? Maybe some, but probably less than not going on at Bighorn at mile 64 in '08. Then there was nothing that tangible beyond general fatigue and I had reached basically the 2/3 mark and had 10 minutes to get through and out of the aid station. Here my stomach discomfort was great and had been ongoing for most of the race, and it was affecting my fueling and really causing me to slow down a lot at a dangerously early point in the race. Fighting what was looking like a futile battle with upcoming cutoffs with a stomach that was sapping all my energy and confidence just wasn't appealing. And I feared that if I did get into Hyak just before the 3AM cutoff it would have been too hard to say to Darren and David that I wasn't going to soldier on---even though objectively I would have no hope of finishing without getting in there more like 1:00 or 1:15 at latest.

Why the stomach troubles? I had some bouts of the big D the previous couple days, and some sour stomach Friday afternoon. But nothing too alarming. I was eating the usual mixture of gels, energy chews, and bland AS fare (mostly melon slices and boiled potatoes and a few chips). I didn't drink as much Perpeteum as usual (finished only one 8 oz. bottle over three occasions) since I feared it would worsen things. Only once did I dare take in a PBJ square. Don't recall seeing any sandwiches. Definitely wasn't getting enough protein, but also was avoiding stuff that seemed like to further upset . But what would cause all the stomach distress? And why didn't the two rounds of Pepcid AC and the ginger squares help? Maybe I should have avoided the second Immodium I took as the rumbles returned and I feared more trips to the forest?

Anyway, I'm left with more questions than answers! Including whether I should get back on the 100 horse quickly, or take a break for a while and focus on 50s and maybe some 100ks. One for five is definitely a batting average that will get you demoted to the minor leagues! Also, I guess I have to wonder about the less than ideal preparation coming from my injury and the forced march back to something resembling fitness. I was five pounds or so heavier, and definitely not as fit, as last Sept. at Iroquios.

Live and learn! Hope to fight another day! This race is definitely beautiful, well organized, with a great low-key feel--everything you'd want! And despite tough, long climbs and descents the footing on the sections I was was quite good, so it's quite runable. Least technical of any 100 course I've been on (at least the first 40 miles). Lots of things to recommend it if I could come back some year with better fitness and a stronger stomach!

Getting Back on the Horse: HURL Elkhorn 50 Miles & Escarpment 30K Race Reports

2009-08-05T20:34:00.000-07:00

Well, when you're out with an injury, missing valuable training time and cancelling race trips (Bighorn and Tahoe Rim) and generally just missing the trails big time, it's kinda important to....GET BACK ON THAT HORSE! That would be the "horse" of logging serious trail miles and doing those nice organized training runs they call trail and ultra races!

The short of it is that a month back into training I tackled the ever-tough Escarpment 30K (for the fourth time) in the Catskills and HURL Eklhorn 50 Miles near Helena, MT.... within six days...and came out of both in one piece! I can't say I posted stellar times or had super races, but that wasn't really the point. The point was to get in my first runs over 15 miles or 5.5 hours since MMT back in May, after all that forced time off in late May and June with the mysterious knee thing. And to build back that endurance and get back into that race mode and see if Cascade Crest 100 on 8/29-30 is a pipe dream and where I stand for it, just a month out. On that front, I think I boosted my fitness, confidence, and....well, maybe, just MAYBE, I stand a chance of making that 32 hour cutoff at CCC (or at least to put up a decent fight!). If I do make it, I'll look back on these two runs as crucial steps toward that goal!

Synposis of Escarpment: This is still the gnarliest, twistiest, rockiest, eat-you-alive 30K you'll ever find (the 30K that wants to be a 50K and that requires a marathon qualifying time or previous trail run of 30K or longer and where you spend as much time scrambling as truly running). I ran a pedestrain, above-the-official cutoff 6:19:45. Had a decent race as I slogged through the mud (from the previous week's rains), pretty high humidity, and made it up those 5,000+ feet of climbing and equal amount of descent without any major damage (unlike last year, with the scary lightning storm and torrential downpour and flooding on the ridge mid-way, which blew what was shaping up to be one of my better performances there).

Little faster than last year, a few minutes slower than my first time there in '05 (where I first really realized how different and wonderful trail running was and that I needed to COMMIT and FOCUS on it to really enjoy it). And considerably slower than in '07, when I ran like a 5:42. But most years it comes at a point on the race calendar where I'm in recovery mode or otherwise not in peak shape or worried about not expending too much energy due to a race the following weekend (like this year, or last with Catoctin), so I can't say I've ever been able to just sort of go all out. It's really an organized fat-ass (no winners, no prizes), so I like to treat it that way. But a 30K of this difficulty and caliber mid-summer really is something nice to break up the year and "bridge" my running from one phase into the next, I'm finding. After you tackle it, you feel like any tough stuff you encounter in other races you've already been through (and then some) before! A sort of trail running crucible!

This year it was sloppy and wet enough (some light rain in second half) that I just didn't want to plow through those hypertechnical downhills, including those ledges you have to lower yourself down on all fours. Plus I still didn't feel like I had good confidence or leg strength to take the downs fast, so I was conservative, letting several folks pass me in the last few steeply downhill miles (one of whom took a bad fall shortly thereafter, a fate which I know would have befallen me if I had pushed it in that section!). But I did feel pretty good on the climbs, including the ones up to Blackhead Mtn. at 10.2 (3,940') and Stoppel Point at 14.4 (3,430'). Felt like mid-week hill workouts at the Palisades and on the treadmill the previous three weeks had really paid off in terms of getting my climbing form and condition into some semblance of where it stood before the injury, when I was in good shape (for me at least!).

This race is a really important annual ritual for me that I'd hate to ever miss. Love the grassroots feel, the people who come back year after year and get honored with t-shirts marking how many Escarpment miles they've logged, the bus to the start, the in-your-face quality of the trail, the great volunteers who hike all the aid in along this remote point to point trail, the fact that they don't do awards or get carried away with bells and whistles...and this year the nice cool refreshing dip in North Lake right after the finish! Nice way to cool off and wash off all that MAJOR MUD from foot to waist (yes, one not to bad fall about midway!). Oh yes, and they sold an inexpensive, nicely designed technical T at the finish too (the race fee is rock-bottom so no automatic shirt)!

I will also confess to be utterly, completely perplexed at why my local trail friends seem to shun this race, or maybe choose not to go back having done it before (I know Garth didn't know I might be doing it, otherwise I'm sure he would have gone back.) We have a real mecca in our backyard!!! Maybe it's the cumbersome entry procedure, or the fact that it's "only a 30K" and "not an ultra." But I really think that you won't find a better test of your mountain trail running fitness and skills than this one...or a more challenging and rewarding local/regional Northeast running experience. And c'mon, you can be there from the city in like 2 hours and a quarter, 2 and a half tops! But at the same time, I kind of like that this is sort of my "own" little race that holds special meaning and others seem to not "get it" or to go to the trouble of sending in that SASE to get an application. Trail and especially ultra types are rugged individualists and iconoclasts, and decidedly don't "run in packs," so here's to those wonderful traits that make our sport so exciting!

HURL Elkhorn synthesis: It was a great experience to run 50 miles through scenic Montana high country. I loved the mountain meadows, wildflowers, and especially the pine-forested sections, running over soft pine needles. Some awesome vistas of lakes, mountainsides, and vast valleys. I held up pretty well, despite a middle section before and after the long 2,000' climb up to the highest point in the course, where I flirted a little closely with the cutoffs. But got a good burst of energy and picked up the pace from around mile 30, and held it together fairly steadily effort-wise the rest of the way.

Race director Steve Engenbrecht (sp?) and "RD for a day" Martin (as Steve ran the race) put on a well-organized event in Helena National Forest, with 10 aid station, helpful volunteers, and nice camaraderie. The course has a lot of twists and turns as it goes from trail to trail, and sometimes through meadows, with often faint signs of a trail and nothing like the blazes we grow accustomed to in the East. So navigation is tricky, and once I had to backtrack and wait for another runner and pull out my map and instructions. Maybe ran an extra 1/3 to 1/2 a mile. Two other times I either stopped and waited for other runners or encountered another runner doing the same for me, as I checked the map and directions and we made sure we did the right turns. There were several nervous moments, since I ran all alone probably 2/3 of the time, when I kept wondering if I would see the next marking, or had missed a turn. Elk didn't eat their markings this year (they used orange duct tape instead of flagging tape), but still they were spaced wide enough and the trails used don't have their own permanent markings to help, so that you had to use extra caution. A woman who passed me at the next to last aid station and waited for me at one point to make sure we were on course apparently missed a turn and ran four extra miles in the early section of the course!

The longer story: "What, a New Yorker? What brings you out to Montana?" I wish I had a dollar for every time I get that good-natured reaction when I go to a Western ultra! The usual reply, "Why this race, of course! And plus a nice excuse to check out a beautiful part of the country, get in some hiking, etc.!" But mostly at the nice pre-race dinner/orientation at the Elkhorn Fitness Retreat the talk with the nice folks I met was about the course, other races in the area like Devil's Backbone, various 100s people had done or were doing, and the usual ultra stuff. After a long raffle in which I think almost everyone of the 75 or so (out of 100 or more) 50K'ers and 50 milers won something (I got a nice Adidas bag), we got a thorough course briefing from R.D. Steve and were sent on our way. Had there been an award for who came from the farthest distance, I think I would have won it!

Driving out the road that leads into the National Forest and quickly turns to dirt, I was glad I had chosen to rent a 4WD! And really got the sense I was "out there," despite being maybe 8 miles from the Interstate, and maybe 20 minutes from the hotel in Helena where I stayed.

Start to Jackson Creek 1 (mile 10)

It was pitch black in the primitive Crystal Creek Campground when we started. It was an immediate steady climb up a dirt road for two miles or so (where the RD had some jugs of water to top off bottles), until we hit the forest service road, which really amounted to double track. Then a steady swithbacked climb up a low-forested section, where we encountered a lot of cattle, early morning moo's, and "cattle business" left on the trail. We got up to a nice section of ridge where we went through a lot of meadows where the trail grew faint and we had to rely on cairns. I saw what I thought was a cairn and then another that looked more like a rockpile leading down a steep grassy descent...but with no apparent trail. The footpath led instead straight across the meadow. After going on a quarter mile fearful I'd missed a turn that wasn't clearly signed, I backtracked. Along came a runner from Sheridan, WY named Liz, and by then I had checked the directions and my map. Between that and her sighting of an orange marking down the descent on some trees, we realized it was indeed the turn.

Then it was, as I recall, a few miles of rolling but mostly downhill double track surrounded by low new-growth forest till the Jackson Creek AS, staffed by a lone woman. She looked like she had quite a hike to get there! Overall, I averaged about 15:42 for the first 10 miles.

Jackson Creek back to Start/Finish (10-20)

Here we followed the creek up, up, up, before turning up to meet the trail we had come out, and facing a nice switchbacked descent off the mountain, and back onto the direct road headed back to the start/finish at the campground. Things slowed down a lot with the initial climb. It was quite pretty, and the sun was starting to burn hotter. It felt nice to be on the single-track descent, and then on the steady descent on the dirt road you could really pick up a nice head of steam.

I was a little confused at the trail intersection, not recognizing we had been there before and that we were headed back. I pulled out the instructions and maps, and looked at the signs with arrows (one seeming to direct us left, another that seemed to be for those coming another direction directing us right). I didn't recall the signs from before. Anyway, just then Liz and an older man came up, and assured me it was a left, confirming my general sense. She said "do you know this gentleman is 80 years old?" Turns out he was someone that had been paying a lot of attention to at the pre-race dinner. He asked "where you from?," and when I replied NYC he said something like "New York, why did you come all this way?" When I asked where he was from he said "Vermont, but I live around here." "When did you come out?" His mater-of-fact reply: "In the 1950s." Had to laugh at that one! You can take the New Englander out of New England.....! (Though he had finished a number of times and owns the over-60 course record, he ended up not finishing.)

Anyway, I got some distance on Liz and this gentleman on the downhill section, and didn't see anyone those last 5 miles or so. At the start/finish was my dropbag, and I took the chance to change my shirt, re-apply sunscreen and repellent (there were some bugs out there, especially in the low-lying areas), re-load Heed and load and drink some Ensure, re-lube, etc. I was probably there about 15 minutes. Just as I was leaving, Liz came in, and when I looked back after I re-traced my steps a few yards (forgot the damn bottles on the AS table!), she had made a quick visit to the portasan and was close behind me

My average pace per mile in this second section slowed to a more sustainable 17:18 I was happy to leave the 20 mile station with an average pace per mile of 16 minutes so far. I had done my pacechart with 16 and 19 minute paces, and knew the overall cutoff pace was about a 19:20.

Start/Finish Area to Elk Park 1 (20 to 27)

This section had maybe a mile and a half of dirt road, then a nice trail through new growth pines going steadily up to an AS at Teepee Creek at around 23, and then four of the steepest, toughest miles you'll encounter anywhere as you switchback your way up to Elk Park at 27. I was doing pretty well in the shaded trail section up to Tepee Creek, happy to be off the direct mid-day sunlight. The footing was a nice bed of pine needles and it was pretty smooth. There was a large crew of friendly volunteers there, and just beyond you could hear a bunch of kids playing in the stream.

Teepee Creek is at about 5,800', and Elk Park is just beyond the highest point on the course at a lung-busting 7,880. The first part of the climb is a series of switchbacks through broad grassy meadows with awesome views of peaks, including one mountainside off to the left denuded by the '88 fires, with only burnt out stumps of old grwoth. Eventually you get into a really nice pine forest, as it continues to climb upward. The length and steepness of this climb, a lot of it at what would prove the warmest part of the day (direct sunlight, as more clouds would thankfully roll in later!), reminded me of races like Jemez and Bighorn, though it didn't get up to 10 or 9K like them. It was a draining climb, and made a bit demoralizing by the fact that there was a fairly steady stream of 50Kers (whose course started where we hit mile 20 back at the start/finish) as well as, presumably, a few of the 50 mile leaders...all already on their way back home. They were moving wiftly downhill, and it didn't seem to be fair they would be doing that AND be miles and miles ahead of me all while I was straining my way upward!

At one point the climb seemed to reach its high point (we never really summited on any mountain on this course), only to dip and then proceed back upward. I had to ask runners coming towards me a couple times how far Elk Park was. I kept eating and drinking, and had by then upped my total hourly Endurolytes from the usual 2 to 3 and even to 4. I was worried about cramping, but fortunately it never came at any point in the race.

It was a real relief to come to the Elk Park AS, famously run by real cowboys. They were quite friendly, and one even scooted a few steps after me after I left one of my two bottles on the table (seemed to be a real problem for me in this race, when they would take the bottle and fill it while I did something else and got distracted). They said something about the "good part is that you made it under the cutoff." As I left, I realized that I had only about 22 minutes on the cutoff (which I knew from my chart was set at a sub-19 pace for that point).

My average pace slipped in this section to a tortoise-like 35:12 (with all miles rounded off, so that's very approximate, but still!). I hadn't loafed through the section, and no one was gaining ground on me, but nor was anybody in sight in front of me. In fact, I spent over half the race with no one (at least going my direction) in sight before or after me! Talk about spread out in the backcountry! I didn't mind at all--I really kind of enjoy the solitude,but I know it's dangerous pace-wise.

Elkpark 1 to Wilson Creek (27-32)

In retrospect, this was the make or break section. A little shocked I was flirting with the cutoffs and dismayed I couldn't really generate much turnover on the nice, curvy pine-forested descents, my morale faded a bit for a few miles. Would I have to play the old exhausting "beat the cutoffs" game the whole rest of the way? Maybe I should have signed up for the 50K (I joked to a volunteer at th eWilson Creek aid station about it being the 50K finish)? After all, I had already been out several hours longer and several miles longer than I had been since mid-May at MMT. So maybe my eyes had been bigger than my stomach in signing up for a 50-mile so soon?

Well, somewhere along there as I traversed some rolling to flat jeep roads, mostly shaded, I took the second dose of Vivarin and Advil. That seemed to buoy my spirits by the time I hit the next AS. That plus seeing that my pace had picked up, and that my gap on the cutoff had increased to 28 minues! (Somehow my Garmin wasn't properly charged at the start, so my only pace feedback came from comparing my watch times to the pace chart and the various paces I had charted out at each aid station)

My pace in this section improved considerably (thanks to considerable downhill and some flats) to 16:48.

Wilson Creek to Elk Park 2 to Teepee Creek 2 (32 to 39)

There was a little spring in my step, even as I realized we had a considerable climb up the other side of the mountain back UP to Elk Park! But it was through some of the most beautiful sections of the course, as we wound up wooded forests, across meadows with wildflowers and awesome views, and with a lot of pine needles and dirt and not too many rocks. My spirits were buoyed, and now I felt pretty certain I was going to finish this baby!

It was a mental boost to get back to Elk Park again, see the same volunteers, and realize that I was now on the "way back," with a very considerable downhill section ahead! Again, I didn't linger long, just filled by bottles, grabbed a few snacks, and was off.

The downhill felt good, and while my turnover was never great on the downhills throughout the day, I was able to at least take advantage of gravity to run them. The views going down of the valleys and neighboring peaks (one with a few spots of snow) were awesome. It was nice to see the same kids playing at the stream crossing, and to get back to Teepee Creek. Here I had my other drop bag, and took a few minutes to apply sunscreen and body lube, fill up my Heed and Perpeteum bottles, stock up on Endurolytes, and grab my second headlamp just in case. I left with a nice 40 minutes on the cutoffs, which now put me closer to an 18 minute than 19 minute average, which was very pleasing! I knew this would be a finish,and the only question was how far under 16 hours I could go.

I averaged 20:54 on the climb up to Elk Park,and 16:45 on the descent down to Teepee.

Teepee Creek to Casey Meadows to finish

I read from the race description: "From Tepee Creek, the course immediately beings a fairly steep uphill. This entire uphill section is exposed to the afternoon sun. The climbis approximately 2 miles and elevation gain is approximately 1,500'"(up to a little over 7,000'). Indeed! The sun and clouds continued to play tag, and this was maybe the rockiest part of the course. Some of it verging on scrambling at times. It was a LONG, TOUGH climb for that late in the race, but I plodded on steadily. There were some awesome views from up there, and some exposure but nothing too scary. It was also one of the steepest and most technical downhills of the day, descending toward Casey Meadows AS. My pace slowed down to a 22:45 in this section. I was 39 minutes under the cutoff at Casey, and still under a 19 minute pace overall.

Here we were (I thought) back on a section we had been on earlier in the day. It was a little confusing! Anyway, just a few hundred yards behind me was a woman who appeared to be in her 30s, gaining on me. I left the AS just before her, but sensed I should let her pass as she was moving very well. We conferred a little at one tricky turn, and exchanged a few pleasantries. Turns out she had run maybe 4 extra miles in the first 20 due to a wrong turn. That could have been me! Glad I waited at every junction where I wasn't sure throughout the race!

Anyway, after a fairly short climb, with some awesome views down over the valley and of the nearby peaks, we started a fairly steady, windy descent through mostly new growth. Markings were scarce, and I got nervous at a few points, only to finally see the elusive orange duct tape. At one point, there was a considerable climb again, and I saw the woman, who had gone far ahead, waiting for me. No, there hadn't been any turns I had seen, I told her. She ran a little ahead and finally saw a marking and yelled it was ok. From there we wound further down to a small aid station--the last!--at around mile 48, back at Jackson Creek (which didn't look at all familiar from the morning--were we approaching from a different side this time?). In this downhill section I got my pace down to a 16:48. But she was far ahead of me, and I didn't have any illusions of keeping up or catching her.

From the last AS, it was what seemed like a never-ending 1/2 to 3/4 of a mile, including a closed livegstock gate that I chose to climb over as it didn't seem easy to untie and retie the wire closing it, to get back to the dirt road. Now it was mostly a steady 1.5 mile descent on the dirt road to the finish. I didn't have enough left, or much feel compelled, to really turn up the juice, but I managed to run the whole last section on heavy but not unbearable legs. I though, well, might be nice to break 15:15, if I couldn't break 15. Ran into a guy walking towards me with a dog, and he clearly was a runner. I said to him his dog was the pacer I needed all day, and he told me it was just around the bend. I expressed some skepticism as they jogged beside me a few paces (I think he thought I wanted HIM to pace me!), but sure enough around the bend was the campground, and the little right turn intothe finish under pine trees!

It was a pleasant little scene at the finish area, as they offered a nice spread of food. A gentleman handed me a pencil drawing of an elk with the race name and my name and finishing time. Got to talk to Steve, the R.D., who had had to drop out with cramps or some issue at Casey Meadows. And to a guy from Alberta whom I'd talked to early on. And Liz, who came in a few minutes later as last finisher, and her training partner from Sheridan (he had missed the cutoff). And briefly with the woman who passedme and finishe dlike 8 minutes ahead (from AZ, it turned out). We saw a deer in the distance up a ridge. Earlier in the day, I had nearly stepped on a small snake (kicking a rock accidentally toward it as I braked on a dime!), seen various small rodents, a ton of cows,and some kind of vulture-like bird. The wildflowers were spectacular, and even one giant ubiquitous weed with a purple flower was beautiful!

All in all, course beauty aside, I thought this one was just what the doctor ordered! It really gotme back into the swing of things. I learned my legs and mind could still "go there" when the chips were down and the haul was long. The time (15:14:32, for an 18:18 overall pace) wasn't great, and I feel like had I been in better shape and more race-sharp and more time-focused, I should have been able to shave a good half hour to hour on that course. The course is only just one notch below Zane Grey (less technical) and Jemez (less altitude) in difficulty, so it was a good test/tune-up/ramp-up-into-shape run for Cascade. And in terms of the setting, the people, the race organization, the weather, everything was just real darn nice! Really enjoyed it!

Not sure why more folks don't know about HURL Elkhorn, but they should! Maybe they're deliberately keeping it low-key for a reason, so I'll try not to spoil it!

Catching Up...and Getting Back on the Trails!

2009-07-20T20:13:00.001-07:00

Well, it's been a few months, and the blog's been a little abandoned! Chalk it up to injury, lack of racing, travel, whatever!

I should have written a recap of my May MMT disappointment (DNF at 65) while the memories were fresh. I still plan to, and have begun at least calculating my splits from AS to AS. There are surely things to be learned from that one from a race strategy point of view. I'll dwell on that later, but the one lesson that sticks in my mind is not to be caught in that sort of limbo of running a 100 on short notice with less than ideal preparation. The whole waiting list phenomenon can throw you for a loop.

I was simultaneously probably overraced yet undertrained in terms of weekly mileage/time on my feet from going through the whole mini-taper/race/mini-recovery cycle too many times. In particular, had I known I was doing MMT, I wouldn't have done Bel Monte and Zane Grey fifties in a month, and particularly the latter only 3 weeks before (with the Canyon mega-hike to boot!). Instead, ideally I would have done maybe one fifty somewhere in the 5-8 week out range. I probably should have just let MMT go and focussed instead on Tahoe and Cascade Crest. But I was just itching to do a 100, and get another 100 finish, and felt like I had a good string of races and winter and spring of training to make it happen. But hindsight is 20/20, huh?!

Anyway, back in early May I strained something on the medial side of my right knee doing pigeon pose from yoga at home. Just would get really sore and stiff from sitting or sleeping in certain positions, though running itself was ok. Almost kept me out of MMT, but I think it got masked a little by the pre-race taper. It held up fine during the race (can't blame the DNF on that!). But I shouldn't have rushed back after really just a week, with a 3 hour run in the Palisades followed by some speedwork a couple days later. By the time I got to Brazil in late May, I knew I needed some more time off.

But the week off in Brazil didn't do the trick. It came back as I resumed training and started back into speed, did a 2 1/2 hour run in Iberapuera Park in Sao Paulo, etc. So then I get back mid-June, am still waiting for my doctor's appointment which isn't supposed to be for another few weeks, and face the Bighorn race just a few days later. A couple days semi-hard training convince me to bag Bighorn trip, and to stop running and just cross-train till I see Dr. Coleman. By the time I see him, and then get back my MRI a week later, I've had another 10 days off, and with no more pain have resumed training for a couple days as I await confirmation of his initial diagnosis of a meniscus tear and probably surgery. But....no tear! No nothing, really! Just take it easy and watch that "high-impact" stuff.

So since I got that news on the eve of July 4th weekend, been building back the running, have been to the Palisades maybe 4 times, in Harriman this past weekend, mileage back up to the 40s or so, just did 5.5 hours in Harriman yesterday. It's going well, and leg strength is coming back and it now feels like I never left the trails. The accent has been on hillwork on the trails. Have been easing back into yoga, and also into lower-body strength work, the last week or so. In the meantime, swimming and biking enough that it feels as if I were tri training!

So...I opted to cancel the Tahoe race too (RD had said I could drop down to 50K, but 7/18 seemed too soon and too far a trip). Instead signed up for HURL Elkhorn on 8/1 in Montana. Psyched! In meantime, it was the aquathlon last weekend, and it's Escarpment this coming one. And I even signed up for a sprint tri for 8/15 two weeks out from Cascade. Not the best taper plan, and it was a weak moment, but it's been two years, and I feel like I can do a shortie. It's also forces me to keep to my plan of relying more on cross-training to build fitness and lose weight and not over-rely on running as I build back the running for Cascade.

Aquathlon went pretty well. A few minutes better than in '07, and 5 slower than in '06. Seems as if the swim/transition split improved, as the run itself was a little slower. Felt pretty unsettled in that confusing start as people got tangled up and the buoy we had to round before heading south/downtown kept getting pushed out further from us (by the current? or by just the force of people swimming toward it and bumping it?). Anyway, after continuing on to try to reach it while others just cut the corner, I finally gave in and headed toward where we needed to go. Felt like it was going to get washed all the way to the George Washington Bridge!

The swimming rhythm got a little better mid-way, once I solved the water in goggles issue. It was a little choppy, and at times I wasn't sure whether to stay closer to shore or further out as there was a wide swath of swimmers. Anyway, the transition was ok. Had forgotten to leave the cap so I had to do without, and this year I didn't try to get fancy and go sockless (which gave me bloody feet a few years back). Nor did I use the fancy no-lace shoes, just the regular shoes and socks.

It felt strange to run on pavement, though it was the familiar tri sensation of passing runners who seemed to be almost running in place (like they must have felt passing me in the water!). I was no speed demon, maybe averaging 7:30s, but I passed a good 20 or 25, and no one passed me. I had had only one very easy speedwork session since before my last layoff, so I was breathing hard. But I still had enough gas to pick it up and catch a few runners in the last 1/4 mile or so and even a couple the last 100 yards. A kinda nice feeling I hadn't had for a while!

All in all, I feel like I'm in a nice training groove. The knee has been just fine. I don't think about it too much at all. I know it's a tall order to rebuild fitness to face the very tough task of finishing CCC in under 32 hours, but I kind of like the challenge (easy to say now, it's still almost 6 weeks out!). I'm trying to recapture that nice groove of intense training combined with good tune-up/re-build fitness races that I had last August before Iroquois. So far, so good, but the big tests lie ahead!

Boy how I missed the trails, and not being able to run. It's SO nice to be able to plan races, build toward goals, and feel "dialed in" again after that depressing hiatus! Don't know how good you've got it till it's taken away for a while!

arizona adventures part one--Zane Grey 50!

2009-05-05T19:36:00.000-07:00

So, was Zane Grey a pretext to hike the Canyon, or the Canyon a pretext to go back to Zane Grey? Either way, this was a glorious double-header of a trip!

Driving north on Highway 87 from Phoenix aipport toward Payson, it again blew me away how quickly you were in the starkly beautiful, virtually uninhabitated desert. I think I was more aware of that this time, driving alone instead of with Richard and (cousin) Cheryl like two years ago. Giant organ cacti gave way to greener, denser high desert forests as the highway rose, with lots of steep rises and falls, up to 5,000 feet in Payson.

The next day it was up early and off to do some solo trail maintenance east of the Fish Hatchery on the Highline Trail, to meet part of my requirements for upcoming summer races. Crossing the stream that runs south from the Hatchery, you immediately encounter the rocky, twisty, up and down terrain that makes the Highline such a rugged trail and Zane Grey such a tough and wonderful event (the 50 milers that wants to be a 100K, I like to think of it!). Moving logs that had been chainsawed by an 80-some-year-old who still runs the race (!) but not moved off the trail proved to be taxing at times. Finding branches that could give leverage and not stress the back too much proved to be a key! Building cairns, moving brush off the trail, and putting up branch edges to mark off side trails proved to be easier tasks. The all-purpose gloves I got in the bike department of a sporting goods store before the trip came in handy! I was careful to kick rocks and logs first before moving, or probe them with sticks, duly fearful of rattlers (none seen!).

All in all, it was quite cool and relaxing to be out there solo on the trail on a pleasant day, in the 70s. Getting acclimated to the dry heat and the footing. I went about 4 miles out before returning. A highlight at the end was eating my lunch among the rocks in the middle of the stream, soaking my feet and calves in the cold rushing water! Saw one large fish jump, which must have been a trout that hatched at the Hatchery just a few hundred yards north!

The Race

Sometimes the second time through a difficult event is a lot smoother! I'm not sure if it was the milder temps (mostly 60s, partly cloudy, and breezy, versus 80s in '07). But I'd like to think it was in part at least the accumulated ultra experience and better preparation with footwear, socks, etc.. Or maybe it was just my first experiment in carrying double handheld bottles and leaving behind the Camelbak (the biceps can get sore, but I'm lovin' it!!

But, whatever it was, this one just went MUCH more smoothly than the ordeal of blisters, heat, and suffering through the stark, rugged beauty of two years ago. No dramas, no blowups, no extended aid station stops, no blister treatment, not even any shoe/socks changes...just fairly steady pacing (or so it seemed). The most measurable result: a respectable 15:27:13, about 56 minutes under my '07 time! And instead of DFLing (that's dead f....'in last!) I actually had four people finish behind me, and there were apparently up to 50 or so DNFs, based on the number who had registered. The usual amount of Zane Grey victims!

It was chilly, maybe the 40s, at the start at 5AM, but not as bad as some years, people were saying. The headlamp stayed on for maybe 30-40 minutes, as we steadily climbed up toward about 6,200 feet the first three miles or so. Hey, the air is thinner here, my sea-level lungs started reminding me! The first ridgeline views of the surrounding hills and valley in the early morning light were awesome, but no time to linger and admire! Then it was a generally descending stretch for a few miles, culminating in a nice, curvy descent into Camp Geronimo at mile 8, the first aid station, at around 5,400 feet, about the same elevation as the start. Scooted through that one quickly, feeling good. They had my drop bag waiting, and I just quickly shed my windbreaker which I'd taken off and the trash bag I'd worn at the start.

Shortly after that AS, I remember a tricky turn where I waited for the person behind me just to make sure I was on trail. It's a steady climb up to about 6,500 feet till around mile 12. As with most of the course, it seems like most stretches are rocks strewn on rocks strewn on rocks. But then you'll have some sandier or dirt-like footing for a while, sometimes with a soft bed of pine needles thrown in, just enough to break it up. But mostly rocks! I averaged about a 14:30 for the first section, which in retrospect was probably a little fast. The telltale sign should have been the more labored breathing, particularly on the climbs, though once again altitude is deceptive and sneaks up on me rather than simply banging you over the head (at least at this elevation)!

The trail yo-yo's up and down up to AS#2 at mile 17, Washington Park. A few miles into this section I could feel my energy level dropping, and I had that sort of lull that I often experience three or four hours into it. People were passing me, and folks with whom I'd been yo-yo'ing pulled away. I spent longer at this aid station, reloading food and swapping out bottles and eating some real food (mostly fruit as I recall). I averaged around 18:00 in this section, slowing down considerably (but to what was ultimately a more realistic and sustainable pace).

After around 4:45-4:50 or so, not far out from this AS, I remember taking the "double shot of meds" I usually do every 5 hours (2 Advil, one Vivarin). That put some pep in my step. After that I managed to pick it up enough to pass or at least pull even with a few folks. In this third section of about 7 miles, leading to Hell's Gate (gotta love the name!), at 24, there was a lot of steady climbing, then a fairly sharp descent, then back up and then down. We started to get into the "burn section" from the early 1990s fire, where it's more open grassland with lower trees and vegetation (but it struck me that this whole middle section of the course felt less open and exposed and hot than even two years ago--in part, it had grown up more, and in part I guess because of the "game of tag" the sun and clouds seemed to be playing). In the more open section, you could hear the winds howling, and feel the breeze, and I would roll my arm warmers back up for more warmth. Overall, I averaged about 17:35 in this section. It felt like I was getting things back together, and I got out of the fairly bare-bones AS at Hell's Gate quickly. I remember asking the volunteers, "So this is what Hell looks like?!" They didn't seem too amused, as I think they'd already heard similar lines for quite a while by that time!

The section from 24 to 33, to the Fish Hatchery, seemed pretty long. Out in the open it felt pretty warm at times. The rush from the caffeine and Advil had subsided a bit. I think it was around here where I started jockeying with the guy from Salt Lake City, a pattern which would go on till the last aid station. We talked occasionally. A big, tall, broud-shouldered guy, he was an efficient, strong hiker, and powered up hills, but I never once saw him run (he later told me that he had "only one gear," and wasn't a big fan of these technical trails due to some kind of chronic injuries). So, I would tend to pass him on downhills and pull away on more runable rolls, but he would inevitably power his way back up to me and past me. At least it was all good-spirited, as he would cheer me on, and provided good if sporadic company. Never did catch his name though. Anyway, I averaged a 20:46 pace on this section, based on the official mileage, which would make it my slowest-paced section. Could well be, but part of it may also be that it was a bit longer than advertised, or the aid station placement was a little off. Somehow, this course allegedly comes out to 53 or so, even if the organizers says it's more like 51! Those extra miles are thrown in there SOMEWHERE!

I left Fish Hatchery, the first cutoff, with about 13 minutes to spare. But given the distance between aid stations, I had been there maybe a good 3-5 minutes, swapping out drinks and nutrition from my small drop bag, eating some AS food, and filling up my handhelds.

After Fish Hatchery, you hit a really long section, about 11 miles, till the next aid. I think there was one little water-only unofficial AS in there a few miles from the next AS, however. At first I was covering the same miles of trail I had cleared the day before, enjoying the fruits of my labor! Hey, who moved those freshly cut logs anyway?! What a super job they did, whoever it was! It felt like familiar territory. I took care on that first big stream crossing come out of the station, which I knew to be tricky, and was happy I managed to rock hop efficiently, after getting wet coming back the day before! Fresh legs are over-rated!

But....this section sure felt like a lot more climbing than what I remembered from the feeling on my fresh legs the day before! The first two-thirds or so of this section trends upward, and you reach the highest point of the course at maybe mile 40 or so. 6,800 or so (hard to read the typeface on the maps on the race site!). I felt reasonably good on the climbs, but they were a struggle, and I had to make sure I continued to eat and hydrate so as to muster the strength. Probably the toughest climbs of the race, at least effort-wise because of where they came in the race. Then you trended downward a few miles, before a steep drop, and then a steep climb going into See Canyon AS.

Between 33 and 44, there was a lot of yo-yo'ing with the aforementioned "one-gear" guy, and also a woman and a guy running together whom I saw a lot. I finally passed the latter two at one somewhat tricky river crossing. It involved some walking across a couple of logs placed side by side. Managed to stay upright and dry! That was the last time I saw them. In this section from 33(ish) to 44(ish) I averaged an 18:57 pace (if the official mileage is correct),which was decent given the terrain and stage of the race.

So, at See Canyon aid at 44, the last AS, I swapped out little bottles of Heed and Perpeteum and gels/shot blocks, put on a long sleeve and a vest (darkness wasn't too far off), and picked up my headlamp and back-up flashlight. A guy came up and asked if he could pace me to the finish. I said sure, why not? I left this last station with 14 minutes to spare on the last cutoff, having spent maybe 6-7 minutes getting my stuff together, and comforted by the thought that I was home-free, since past here there was no finish cutoff! (I like that system, and wish more races used it.)

I confess now that I can't remember my pacer's name (I'm finishing this post almost a month later!). But he was a real nice guy, triathlete/Ironman/3:01 marathoner, teaches phys ed in Phoenix, originally from Cleveland and a huge Cleveland sports fan. We had a great time running through the night. His friends who were running had either backed out or dropped out, so he was left with no one to pace, and apparently had been trying for a while to find someone who would let him! But I was sure happy to have the company after what had been some pretty lonely miles. We talked about how I got into ultras, his triathlon and marathon experiences, his plans for trying to get under 3 hours for the marathon, the Ironman he planned to do the next fall, and Cleveland sports, especially the Cavs and their playoff prospects! He seemed to love the outdoor lifestyle that living year-round in Arizona enabled him to live. Just two native Ohio boys in their 40s happily strolling through the night. But running at night on trails was fairly new to him, though he'd apparently paced before, and when I saw some animal run across the path in front of us (fairly large it seemed) and asked what it was, he said he was happy he hadn't seen or heard it as we'd been gabbing! Hmmm..what could it have been?!

I was thinking in this section how much I'd suffered alone, and with those horrible blisters on those jagged rocks on the descents, toward the last miles of the race in '07. And how much more under-control and smooth I felt this time! Having the company helped a lot. We neither passed or were passed at all in this last seven miles (where we averaged 18:42 by official mileage). The pair of runners never caught us, and the Salt Lake City guy, who had left the last aid just before me, stayed in front. We kept a steady pace.

I thought maybe we were slowing, and started wondering how far the finish was, and thought we would see sweeps out, but we saw no one going either direction. But then all of a sudden we could see lights and hear voices, and there we were, at the finish! A small crew of volunteers and race officials were on hand to clap and yell from the time they heard the cry "runner up". And it felt good to be able to run it in, after what had mostly been a "shuffling" section. Then they gave me my official hooded finisher's sweatshirt, I collected some food, filled my recovery bottle, gathered my drop bags, quickly changed, and hopped in the van waiting to take us back to Payson. A very low-key scene, but I felt a very nice sense of satisfaction in the cool Arizona night. Satifaction of a tough 50 miler that had felt almost...routine? Could these things EVER be routine? Well, maybe after 8 or so, and on a course you know and were mentally and physically prepared for, just maybe! I think it's mostly more confidence, and knowing what to expect, and being better able to work through those tough moments.

I've been wondering for a while how Zane Grey compares to that other off-the-charts-difficult southwestern 50 miler held in the spring, which is Jemez Mountain. And had been talking about that at the pre-race dinner with the nice grad student from U. AZ whom I'd been sitting with, as she had also done the race the year before, it turned out, and had DNF'd ZG (this year she passed me somewhere in the 15-20 mile range and I never saw her again, so she redeemed herself big time--she looked very strong!). Unfortunately never caught her name, and she was gone by the time I finished. Moving soon to PA to do more grad school, and she was curious about Eastern trail races and I was filling her in.

I guess now my perspective is that, while ZG is more technical, JM (which took me even longer than my '07 ZG time) is just a bit tougher, given the longer climbs (three above 10,000 feet) and higher average and peak elevation. To be clear, I love Zane, and will definitely be back! It just keeps beating you up, but you're just soaking up the streams, the rocks, the views down over the valleys, the occasional views of the spectacular Mogollon Rim above you, and that somehow makes it that much more bearable. Next time I want to have a day to drive the dirt road that runs at the tops of the Rim, and see the views from the top! I think maybe, though, next year I will go back to Jemez and see if I can lower my time, or see if I can get in the Miwok lottery. For variety's sake, if nothing else. But I'll definitely be back at Zane one of these years soon! Too awesome and too special a race NOT to go back too!

I'll save the rest of the Arizona adventure for the next post....

Snowy Peaks and Cloud Forests

2009-03-23T20:45:00.000-07:00

Well, it didn't take too much to wash the bitter taste of Mt. Mitchell away. Fortunately, a New Hampshire snow mountaineering training course and then a jaunt to the Costa Rica cloud forest with Esperanza came on that trip's heels, and provided great new thrills!

The EMS snow mountaineering course and one-day guided ascent of Mt. Washington certainly "took me out of my comfort zone," as they say--and then some! The stuff we did (two other guys I didn't know and an instructor named Craig) on day one was well beyond what I thought we might do that early. I expected the self-arrest, crampon and ice ax travel, and glissade training. But not the rope travel seminar or rappel. The most breathless moment was learning to frontpoint up a short steep section while roped up. I didn't get the hang of stuff as fast as the other guys, who were more experienced on snow (and probably not as freaked by heights). But while my heartbeat raced and I was sweating bullets at time, I never panicked or lost it. So I came out fairly proud of myself.

Day two was just me and a guide named Ethan ascending Mt. Washington from Pinkham Notch up Lion's Head. A mostly sunny day that turned more cloudy as it progressed. Mild temps by NH standards (40s at the bottom, I suppose 20s on top before the wind chill, but peak winds of maybe 75, Ethan was calculating). First time using ski poles on the lower section. Pretty cool. Then the crampons and ax came out. Learning to cross over and snake up sideways with ax in hand was strenous and challenging. Layers went on as we got further up and it got more exposed and windy. Incredible views as we looked back down, but it mostly required a lot of continuous focus and effort and didn't feel much like a pleasure jaunt! So cool to be on top! Amazinginly cold once you stop, even out of the wind. Hands freeze rapidly. Going up to the true summit with the sign and obligatory photo spot was a highlight. Another was the exposed fence you can lean on and over and get the full force of torrential winds that you do everything you can to keep from knocking you over.

Going down was technically much tougher, if not as physically taxing. Lots of more experienced or just less fearful folks just zoomed by. I had to pick my way down more carefully. There was enough ice (more than usual on that route, apparently), and I was not so trusting of my crampons and ability to use them, so my mind was screaming for caution. On one set of steep "snow stairs" (uneven, irregular) I caught a crampon on the other while trying to switch which direction I was lowering myself down sidewise and feel on my side and slide down. A few steps below, Ethan caught me. Of course, I had dropped my ax and the ski pole he had added to help my balance. So much for self-arrest training! (It somehow threw me off to have something in both hands, and to have to keep switching hands, I think). Scared the $%8 of me! Just thinking of what could have happened. Not a free fall, but would have flown feet first into some trees next to the steps, caught a crampon and surely broken or twisted or torn something had he not caught me. I struggled to regain my composure and get my head together after that.

Seeing how slowly I was progressing downward, and with other EMS guided groups coming up on us, Ethan and the other guides decided to organize a few unharnessed, arm to arm rappels down a few steep sections after that. Not as secure a feeling as the harnessed rappel I'd learned the day before, but felt good to have that assistance. Then it was the long bottom section back on ski poles and boots, as we struggled to make it in my sunset, and just did. I think we did just about 4 1/2 hours up, an hour on top including lunch and views, and about 4 hours coming down. I was definitely a slow descender.

I'm still digesting the experience a few weeks later, but I enjoyed it a lot and found it be really challenging. It took incredible concentration and will power for me. That one fall put an immediate damper and what would have been a 100% positive experience otherwise. But as time passes the overall experience stands out mor than those few seconds. It's not something I think I could have imagined myself doing earlier in my life. I feel like I crossed some kind of boundary. But I'm conscious of other limits, too. Can't imagine doing this without an experienced guidance and expert company. Could never get the hang of the knots and ropes and such, so un-mechanical am I. And I know I'm not the most coordinated person, and that clumsiness increases with tiredness. So I realize that it would take lots of practice time, further training, great concentration, and making sure to have a good margin for error it I'm to take some humble next steps in this process. But I *am* eager to have a go at some kind of guided course and ascent of Rainier this summer, that much I can say!

As for the cloud forest part of this post, well, just a few days later Esperanza went off to beautiful Costa Rica. We stayed four nights at an Ecolodge run by the University of Georgia near the town of Monteverde, and the last night at a nice little inn run by the Von Trapp family near the airport. Wonderful experience. The lodge, San Luis, in the middle of a slightly warmer section of the forest down in the valley below Monteverde. Esperanza found it quite an adventure to make the 15-minute walk back to our room amidst the forest using headlamp and flashlight. The first night there having just arrived and not being well oriented, we missed the turn on the dirt road, and almost walked right into the river just past it, before we realized our mistake!

The wonderful resident naturalists at the lodge took us on a night hike guided by headlamp to see insects and other exotic little creatures. To the nearby beautiful waterful, which was a nice 3-4 mile RT hike. Spectacular! And to a nearby organic coffee farm and grinder, which were really interesting to see close up (especially me having just taught a book about fair trade coffee production in Mexico!). The communal meals at the lodge were great, and besides the interesting naturalists, we meet lots of interesting folks, like those from an environmental NGO who accompany scientists around the world in helping them conduct research (in this case on birds' impacts on coffee farming).

The true highlights were undoubtedly the guided trip to Monteverde Cloud Forest Preserve and then another day to a less-visited nearby preserve whose name I forget now. We saw so much flora and fauna at Monteverde we wouldn't have known where to look for it wasn't funny (tartantulas in their daytime holes, exotic little rodents, the rare Quetzal multi-colored bird, butterflies and birds galore, the list goes on and one)! Such dense forest! Then we had time on our own, and took a beatiful hike up to the continental divide, at 3,000 or so feet, where you could see both the Caribbean and Pacific from the same spot. Had our lunch up in that area. Beautiful views out over the jungle and toward the sea. Well-maintained trails. Sun coming in and out, and low-hanging mist and clouds everywhere...you know, cloud forest!

At the other preserve, called Bosque Eterno de los Nin~os, and with a main trail called Sendero Bajo del Tigre (gotta love those names!), we basically had it all to ourselves, as opposed to the somewhat numerous but well spread out (and well behaved) folks with guides at Monteverde. A couple of hours of mostly admiring the exuberant flora, and mostly hearing but not see the abundant fauna. But THEN, after hearing the howls and following them, not far from the exit/entrance, we came upon...the Capuchin monkeys!

These were the guys we'd come looking for! Maybe eight or 10 of them, feeding in the trees while hanging upside down or rightside up, and not at all spooked by us, at times maybe 20-30 feet away. The smaller ones, presumably young and/or female, following behind the much larger dominant males, who seemed to be leading the way as they passed through in a procession, each stopping to feed periodically. We must have admired them for a good 10-15 minutes, just in total awe, and taking pictures like mad! Then once they finally all traveled out of view, and we got back to our car, Esperanza spotted yet another (or the same?) group of monkeys, in the trees right above and beside our car! Again we admired them for 5-10 minutes, and got some more great pictures. These were among the most exciting moments of the trip.

Besides a great lunch we had at a cafe/bakery our last day in Monteverde, and the nice visit to the terrarium to see the exotic frogs, another memorable aspect was just the experience of driving with 4wD on incredibly primitive back roads for the last hour or so of the trip to/from San Jose, and in the area around our lodge. At times reduced to 10-15 mph, and on slopes so steep you had to downshift all the time to brake or climb.! It's so great they keep the area protected from development by not paving the roads, which they easily could do. Great way to make it a haven for ecotourism. The only downside was that it made the El Arenal volcano (which I'd seen on my trip back in 2000 or 2001 when I was first there) too far for a daytrip in practice, even if by mileage and based on the map you would think it would be no problem Slow going on those roads, but no matter, there was so much to do in Monteverde, we just scratched the surface, and we just loved the downtime at our lodge, nestled in the jungle. Had a couple awesome short trail runs on the dirt roads and single-track trails in the early mornings! Once you got out to the "main road" (still primitive dirt), which passed by farmhouses and a little school, etc., you faced unending, steep hills that left you breathless!

In fact, breathless is a good word to describe the entire experience of both these trips!

Mt. Mitchell fiasco (er, race report), Feb. 28, 2009

2009-03-01T22:17:00.000-08:00

Would you believe an "extreme" winter trail run that gets shortenedby...winter weather?! Well, that's what happened at yesterday's Mt.Mitchell Challenge 40 miler, if you can believe it. And I'm fit tobe tied! That's three wevents in the space of a year that weatherhas prevented me from making to the start line, or has shortened byweather, including two Mitchells. But our friend Mason was one ofthe lucky, swift few who go to got to go to the top and do the fullchallenge, so hats off! (I hope you made it back today through therare winter snow that got at lower elevations in NC today, dude!Fortunately, I flew home last night and the rain didn't stop flightsgetting out from Charlotte.) Needless to say, Mitchell is seriouslyoff my list now, and I think given the poor planning of raceorganizers and those who help put this one on, I would urge others tothink twice about making the trek down for this race, too.Here is my saga, and the rationale for my critique of race organizers:It was already a steady rain when I got up shortly after 4 in myhotel, and we started in a steady, light rain three hours later. Theconditions were quite muddy, and in some spots it was windy, but nottoo bad. Temps in the 40s. But as we got higher, climbing from around2,200' at the start up to the turnaround for the marathon event ataround 5,300, it got noticeably cooler, definitely 30s with maybewind chills lower. When I took off my Seal Skinz waterproof glovesto grab bottles or gels and put them back on, my hands got chilledand the gloves felt wet (on the inside only?). So I switched to mythinner but slightly water resistant (seeming?) Injinji gloves ataround mile 10 or 11. And switched to alternating carrying myhandheld bottle in one hand and rolling down the sleeves of my jacketover my other hand to warm the hand, which helped. The feet managedto stay dry, protected by GTX Montrails, Outdoor Research gaiters,and Marmot precip pants (yes, pants, Mason--some folks actually runin them in winter conditions!).As we approached the aid station on the highway that marks the race'sentrance into Mt. Mitchell State Park, I noticed some of the runnersrunning past me on the way down with the same black-colored numbersof the rest of us Challenge runners (the marathoners had rednumbers). But I thought maybe they had turned around voluntarily...only to be told by an AS volunteer when I got there that we had toturn around and go back and settle for the marathon distance. Thepark service had closed the Park due to snow and wind, he said, andthose who had continued upward had been stopped by rangers/officialsand told to head back down.It was depressing news. You've been conserving your energy on theclimb, and are starting to brace for the most challenging section ofthe race, which is the last 1,200' of climb or so, covering around 7miles, up to the summit of the highest peak east of the Mississippi.Not to mention flown down to North Carolina and plunked down yourrace fee and hotel. And given up a race in Arizona the next weekendyou were registered for so you could could do this one right, and haptapered for a little over a week. All this after getting snowed infor this same race last year when we got ten inches in NYC, andhaving the R.D. blow off your questions about their deferral policy(never replied to a couple queries). Plus it's planned as yourlongest run of the year so far, heading toward 50 milers in lateMarch and late April, so you need the time on your feet and test ofyour fitness.Plus, you're well under the cutoff and maybe somewhere in the middleof the pack, and on pace to run something like the 7:46 you did twoyears ago on the same course, compared to a finish cutoff of like10:30 or 11:00 Being able to make the finish in the cutoff timeisn't an issue. And you've carried the extra pound or so of yourMicrospikes up the mountain, calculating that rain on the bottomequals snow and ice at the top (duh!), and they'll come in handy(after all, Kahtoola which makes Microspikes and other snow tractiondevices is actually one of the RACE SPONSORS of this year's event andis promoted by the RD on the race forum, for crying out loud!).All that, and it all comes down to...a few inches of snow and highwinds (I heard 50mph), which leads the park service to "shut it down"and the race director to relent. All this, mind you, in an eventthat features runners moving through snow on its home page, and linksto articles and race reports from various publicatons and individualswho talk about the appeal of its "extreme elements" and the unknownof the weather up top that makes it so different every year! We camejust for this kind of challenge, but they wouldn't let us experienceit!So, I filled my bottle, and entertained a brief fantasy of "whatwould happen if I continued on up?", until I remembered I hadn'tcarried a map, and remembered how obedient I am to authority (asometimes unfortunate trait)! A few hundreds yard back down theroad, I remembered to put on the Marmot windbreaker I'd carried up asmy third layer for the approach to the summit, which gave me a nicelayer to keep the wind from getting through my other two wet layers.I was so deflated on the way down I decided to treat it asa "marathon-distance training run." No point going for a decenttime, as I'd never run a trail marathon and never felt much interestin doing so, and hadn't pushed it on the way up to conserve energyfor the summit section. At that point the foul conditions just addedto my foul mood, and it really wasn't much fun anymore. All the windhad been taken out of my racing sails, you might say! So it become awet training slog, really.What re-energized me (a little) and got me out of the slow downhillstupor/funk I was in was finally getting to the super steep but lessrocky but quite muddy) dirt road and then road road, over the last 4-5 miles. The Vivarin I had just taken kicked in, and it's so steepthat it hurts to try to brake, so you just let the turnover increaseas if you were doing 100m reps or something. That gave me enoughmomentum, and got the HR going enough, to keep going at a good clipon the relatively flat final section of nature-trail-type footing andthen small town roads on into the finish. Passed a few people (aftermany had passed me on the way down), and only one guy passed me, whoturned out to be on the guys who had been all the way to the top.My "marathon" ended up being 5:41, for whatever that's worth.We heard various reports on the way down of how many had actuallygotten through to the summit (nine at one point? up to 30 atanother? maybe 15?). When I reached him by cell after the race,Mason told me he thought it was about 30, and that with his 6:25finish he was somewhere toward the middle to back of that group.About 160 were signed up for the Challenge (40 miler) alone, so youcan do the math of how many people, like me, they forcibly turnedback and made drop down to the marathon. Clearly the vast majorityof the Challenge participants.DID THEY NEED TO PULL THE PLUG?As I read now an account of the race in today's Asheville newspaper(http://www.citizen-times.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20090301/OUTDOORS/903010340), I see that apparently I missed thepoint where they started turning folks around by maybe 5, 10 minutes(!). And that they drove some runners down from up top withhypothermia, and that the RD said afterwards that all the Challengefinishers looked like they needed hypothermia treatment afterwards.Serious stuff, but alas that does occur often in winter enduranceevents, not to mention high mountain ultras, if you read the accounts.But I do think there's a lot of hyperbole in that. And if you lookat the photo on the newspaper site and check out the dude in shortsand singlet, you wonder how much of that hypothermia was self-inducedfrom poor individual planning of runners! Heck, I've been out thereon the trail or in Central Park a half dozen times this winteralready in 5 inches or more of snow, not to mention the Nor'easterjust about to dump the biggest winter storm on us. Yaks, Microspikes,snowshoes. Nothing that went down on Mt. Mitchell seems any worsethan any of those conditions.So, were the conditions at the top "life threatening" as was impliedor "blizzard-like" as I heard the RD say at the finish area to oneother runner? No, according to Mason. Cold and blowing and slippery.But not a blizzard by any stretch. His hands were cold, he said, andhe slipped and fell a few times on the way down (pretty much standardfare on the steep single track down off the summit, whatever theweather). Couple inches of snow. And Mason (like many speedy folkswho rely on body heat to get them through!) was wearing a singlelayer (I had forewarned him at the number pickup the day before tocarry another layer, but he's a tough Navy dude, what can I say!)!Most of the mid to back packers like me were dressed much morewarmly, not to mention the Microspikes I could have made good use of!We, more than the fast guys and gals at the front of the pack, werePREPARED for the long haul!So, the R.D. has to defer to the park service, right? Here's where Idon't get it. You sign all sorts of waivers, and the site is full ofwarnings about extreme hazards and difficulties, and how this isthe "opportunity to test oneself against the often-uncooperativeforces of nature" (end quote). You read the RD's words about howraces have been decided by which contender was wise enough to carryYak Traks and which didn't. And then this! Doesn't a race thatbrings tourism dollars and business to the area in the middle ofwinter, in a park that gets 20 INCHES OF SNOW on average eachFebruary, have some clout to let them keep the race going? And ifthe park service makes the calls, then why not be upfront in the raceliterature that "extreme weather" can alter the course and cause itto be shortened? Of course, that would demand "truth inadvertising," which is precisely what is truly lacking in terms ofhow the race portrays itself. Anybody reading this from theNortheast or most of the West would/should probably be laughing rightnow!Ok, so the volunteers and race officials at the aid station at thetop may need to be pulled?, the skeptic may say. Ok, granted, so youtell the runners that you will "proceed at your own risk" andthat "there will be no aid at the top," so they can stock up at thenext to last AS below the summit or the one at the marathonturnaround. Sound reasonable?If you have to pull the officials themselves for safety reasons andcan't verify who made it to the top, then tell folks you will treatit as a fun run and that you won't issue official times and thatcutoff times for a safe finish by dusk must be respected. Fine! Iwould have proceeded upward under those guidelines and conditions.But don't just shut it down over what would be a fairly severe butnot extreme winter weather event (at least not in the Northeast whereI live now or Midwest where I'm from). And one which isn't atall "extreme" by the standards of a peak that gets some 50 inches ofsnow per winter, apparently. You calculate the likelihood this willtype of weather event will occur every so often in an annual racethis time of year! That's why you decide to have a race up the peakin winter in the first place--HEL-OOOOOOOOOO!!You want mild temps andsunshine--hold it in the summer!ON TO A REAL WINTER SUMMIT!To add insult to injury, I'm sitting there at a Wendy's after therace, and see Mason is wearing a North Face fleece pullover like theone I had gotten at the race two years yearlier, only with "Mt.Mitchell Challenge '09" emblazoned. "Where do you get that?" "Oh,you had to go over to the little house by the finish." Of course,the finish line volunteers had neglected to tell me this, and we weretoo far away by then and it was hours later, so..... Or maybe theywere only for those who they let go up, so they weren't giving themout to the extra 130 or so Challenge wannabe's like me? Since minefrom '07 was a little tight, could have used an '09 in a larger size(but probably would have ripped off the logo right away!).Well--as the fates would have it--I'm going this weekend to NewHampshire for a mountaineering course and ascent up a mountain whichI PROMISE you won't be shut down over a few inches of snow and somewinds--Mt. Washington! It may be a few hundred feet below Mt.Mitchell in elevation, but the park officials and others there knowhow not to panick over a little white stuff and cold temps and wind!Gotta bag me a winter summit, by hook or crook! Even if it's not arace this time. And most of all, gotta wash the horribly badaftertaste of this race out of my mouth!Cheers,Scott

Calico Trail 50K in CA last month

2009-02-01T20:26:00.000-08:00

This race report has sure come in fits and starts! Work, illness, training...everything has gotten in the way of finishing, so not as fresh in my mind, all these weeks later. But the memories of the desert are still not far from the front of my mind, so here goes....

The 50K is a funny distance. Marathoners move up (many without much trail experience perhaps), while ultra folks move down. In my case, I had skipped over the 50K, when I moved up from the marathon a little over three years ago. Going to 50 milers, 40 milers, 100Ks, and even attempting 100 milers, before finally doing my first 50K a year ago. But then I did four last year, and this was now the second of the new year. They've always been "B races" in my mind--either on the way to some bigger goal race or coming back from layoffs or injury or both. With Calico (and to a lesser extent Phunt 2 weeks before), I feel like I'm starting to get the hang of actually "racing" a 50K. It requires a distinct mentality and strategy, and I still feel like I have a learning curve, but I'll take my nice little Calico PR just the same!

Checking out the ghost town of Calico, which we had visited on a cross-country trip on the way toward the L.A. area back when I was maybe eight years old, was a trip down memory lane on Saturday, race packet pickup day. I was staying in nearby Barstow, just 15-20 minutes away. After getting a nice run down of the course following the big map they had set up at the race table from a volunteer (and later on from the race director), I went into the shops and little museum. It is just as touristy and slightly cheesy as I remember it (though as a kid there's not much concept of cheesy). But the views of the old abandoned silver mine and of the hills above with the white-painted "Calico" emblazoned on the hillside are still pretty highlights. Above all it's the setting that makes Calico pretty, not the actual reconstructed ghost town shops (tacky, and they looked suspiciously like the ones from Virginia City ghost town in Montana last summer, and others in the genre I've been to over the years!). It was a warm afternoon, maybe 70ish but with cool air, and I met and talked a bit with one quite chatty young LA-area runner, Mark. Talked to me about his ultra plans, and his hopes to break 6 hours. I didn't linger in the town too long, as I wanted to get back to the hotel, prepare my stuff, have dinner, and get to bed early. Mainly, get off my feet, after the two hour drive earlier that day from 29 Palms, and the previous two days of hiking and trail running in Joshua Tree. No running this day!

They were forecasting temps early in the morning of upper 30s or so, but it wasn't too bad when I got out of the car in Calico about an hour before race start at 7, still in the dark. I had decided to experiment with my bicycle arm warmers (like the "Moeben sleeves" that have become so popular lately). Worn with a short sleev tee. I decided to forego the vest I was thinking of wearing also--fortunately, as it would turn out! It was nice to be able to go inside a restaurant near the startling line on the main (paved) street, so as to keep warm and stretch out a little in the last minutes before we set off.

As we headed down the paved road and onto the local highway at daybreak, it was beautiful to see the sun coming up to the east, and it was at our backs as the road turned east. The rocky gravel shoulder was uneven enough that it made more sense to stick to the road, though I moved off to the shoulder in areas that seemed a little smoother. It felt good to be moving, as it was still quite chilly. After 2 miles or so, we turned right onto a dirt road, with a ridge off to our right. We embarked on what was a fairly long section which was an almost imperceptible (to the eye) but very real (to the legs) gradual uphill. From mile 2 at around 2,000 feet, the elevation chart shows a steady climb up to around 3,000 just past mile 10.

I hit the first aid station at 6.99 (all distances by my Garmin) in 11:11:23, for an average pace of about 10:12. It was in the middle of a large field. I don't think I stopped here at all, wanting to keep it going and not needing to refill my handheld.

The slight but steady climb continued over most of the next 5.08 miles, to AS #2 at about mile 11.17 I started to make sure I was getting in more walk breaks here, as the terrain of gravel, small stones, and sand didn't really break it up for you. Sometimes the rises got a little steeper, though, so I knew to conserve and stay back on those. I averaged about a 10:42 pace in this section.

The next 5.27 miles, to AS#3, at mile 16.44, were definitely the mentally toughest of this race for me. The climbs got steeper, and the terrain sometimes got trickier, as the dirt roads sometimes yielded to rockier footing and some of it was single track instead of the predominant double-wide jeep road. I felt like I was working harder, and tried to continue conserving energy by walking the steeper parts. Some folks I had been jockeying with, like the woman I would come to think of as "Croc lady," were passing me and pulling away from me. But it felt like it didn't make sense to try to expend the energy to keep up with those folks. "They'll come back to you," I kept saying to myself! "They're probably road runners," I kept hoping! In this section, my average pace slipped to close to a 13:30.

AS #3 was perched beatifully on the edge of a ridge with a gorgeous view of the surrounding mountains and desert. I asked a volunteer to take my picture. Here I swapped out a few gels and Endurolytes and exchanged mini-bottles of Heed from my drop bag, and took off the vest (but kept the arm warmers), as it was getting warmer. I again filled my handheld with water (most times I couldn't quite drain it between aid stations, hard as I might try).

As I was fiddling with my drop bag, I asked a woman leaving the station, a bit increduously, "Are those Crocs you're wearing!" Yes, she replied, and went on her way, beating me out of the station by several minutes. Somehow an idea was hatched right then and there in my devious little mind that there was no way I could let myself be beat with someone with the temerity to run a trail ultra in Crocs! I had noticed that this woman, who seemed to be very roughly near me in age, insisted on powering up even the steep hills by continuing to run, however slowly. Even as everyone around her walked. Somehow this bothered me, and I kept thinking to myself, "She's not a seasoned trail person. She won't last expending so much energy!" (Probably mostly I was secretly jealous of her strength, though!). I also noticed that she tended not to keep the momentum going that well on the downhills. Funny how you develop these silly little fixations on runners around you to sort of pass the time and give yourself something (someone) to measure yourself against!

After a fairly steady climb out of AS#3, just before mile 18, we reached the high point of the course at close to 4,000 feet. There were a couple volunteers here, and I asked them to take my picture, and they kindly obliged. The course really went from scenic to just plain beautiful from here on out. The endless views of mountains, desert, and canyons spreading out before us were really spectacular. At this point we entered a great section of pretty steep and long descents--rejuvenation time for me! I reached one narrow scree slope, where a couple women were slowly picking their way downward, and scooted past them pretty speedily, making sure to pick up my knees and letting gravity take over as let my turnover increase. Then we came to what felt like a couple mile section of wide dirt downhill. I really just let 'er rip here, as my legs felt real good. I was passing a fairly steady stream of folks now, including at one point (and for what would prove to be for good) my nemesis the "Croc lady." In this 4.49 mile section, leading to Aid Station #4 at mile 20.93, my average mile time sped back up to about about 10:22. Nice to have gravity on my side again!

I filled the bottle quickly and took a few snacks (mostly fruit and maybe some pretzels or PB and J squares was what I took at most aid stations--this was back before the PB recalls!) and got though the aid station quickly, wanting to keep up my newfound momentum. The descent continued to about mile 22, where we started to climb again. It was mostly uphill till mile 24. I felt somewhat winded here given how hard I'd worked to make good time on the downs, but kept up a pretty good momentum, and no one I'd passed overtook me. I average about an 11:15 pace for the 3.27 miles till Aid Station #5, at mile 24.2

The next section was full of roller coaster "whoop-de-doo" type steep up and down hills in rapid succession. I got a little giddy with the thrill rid, and almost got too carried away! At one point I got my foot tangled and took a head first slide down some scree, just after I passed a woman who was (more sensibly!) slowing down. But fortunately I just dealt a glancing blow to my shoulder on some rocks and kind of rolled out of it, and the biking gloves cushioned my hands nicely. So I bounced right up and continued, no worse for the wear, with no cuts or bruises. Only the ego slightly bruised, but I mostly felt like laughing about it. I felt some folks shadowing me in this section, as they gained ground on the ups and I pulled away on the downs. I covered the 2.2 miles to the last aid station, Aid#6, in about 11:20 pace.

As I had picked up speed with the downhills, from 18 on, I started realizing that a sub-6:29 and thus a PR was very much in my sights if I kept it up. At some point, I started thinking more ambitiously about the prospect of breaking 6 hours. But I knew it would be a haul.

There was quite a steep descent coming off the last aid station, and I passed a guy who was shaken and want to know how bad his face looked from a fall he had just taken (I hadn't seen it). I told him it was more of a scrape than a gash, with no blood dripping, so didn't look too bad at all. It didn't seem to reassure him much, as the fall had seemed to shake his confidence quite a bit. Unfortunately, I couldn't linger at all, as I pretty much felt like a man on a mission.

The last few miles had some pretty winding trail. Some steep climbs and downs, a U-shaped section, a last descent down the mountain past the campground and onto the road, and then past the entrance station at the bottom of the hill from Calico, and throught the parking lot (and past my rental!) and back up the mountain on the road and up a very steep hill. There were a couple runners biting at my heels the last few miles. I felt like I could fend them off as long as we were on the trails, where I could pick it up on the downs and skirt quickly through trickier footing areas. But once we got to the road section, I felt them coming up. I had been fighting off leg cramps for a couple miles, and was down to taking my last few Endurolytes, sometimes two at a time. It felt pretty warm by then, maybe around 70. I felt a little cramping coming on as I tried to speed up as first a guy, then a woman, overtook me toward the foot of what would prove to be the last steep, paved hill up into the town. I realized it was no good to speed up, and then slowed to a walk as we went up the hill. The woman remarked, as she passed me, on the guy's ability to run swiftly up a climb that steep after 30 miles. Those were the only two people who passed me (back?) the whole second half of the race, of the 15 or more I had passed. So I kind of took it in stride, as the finish was close, and no one else was coming. I wasn't falling apart, I was just being caught by a couple surging runners.

Anyway, my fear going up that hill was that maybe they would have us wind around the town, or back onto the trails, as my Garmin was only showing like 30 miles. But once we crested the hill, it was just a nice quarter mile or so of downhill to the finish line! Nice to be able to finish swiftly with the aid of gravity! (Turns out I averaged a nice 10:45 pace for those last 3.34 miles, so it wasn't as if I was slowing down!) And really psyched to see a finish time of 5:41 and change on the race clock and my watch--a PR of 48 minutes over my Phunt PR of two weeks earlier! Maybe I'm getting the hang of these 50Ks after all!

After going back down to the parking lot to change clothes and call family, I headed back up to the town to use my free meal coupon at the restaurant. Ended up sitting with a nice guy from Nebraska or Kansas (he was from one but had a tee on from the other) who had won an age group for I think the 60-69 group (faster than me, too!). Nice to sit and relax and eat on the porch outside on a sunny winter desert day. Then it was back to the car for the 2 1/2 to 3 hour drive to my hotel near Orange County Airport. Heavy traffic most of the way, but still mostly flowing at 70 or 80--ah, California highways!

All in all, it was a great race. Well organized, well marked, scenic, challenging but still quite runnable, fun. Running through arid mountains and canyons does have its charms! Loved that second half of the course especially! I was glad I organized a trip around this one and the wonderful days prior at Joshua Tree (which, in retrospect, were still really the true highlight of this trip--the race was just the icing on the cake!). The combo of some quality hiking and outdoor sightseeing with a destination race is just the ticket!

Desert sojourns in winter--have to remember that delicious recipe for coming years!

1:11:23 lap 1 6.99

54:15 lap 2 5.08

1:11:18 lap 3 5.27

46:35 lap 4 4.49

36:56 lap 5 3.27

24:55 lap 6 2.2

35:56 lap 7 3.34

Joshua Tree National Park Travelogue

2009-01-22T18:51:00.000-08:00

Well, I guess I should say the highlight was the Calico 50K, and my exciting PR there. And I really did enjoy the race. But, truth be told, the highlight of my five-day solo trip to the California desert was the hiking and trail running through Joshua Tree National Park. More than add-on sightseeing piggybacking on a race, I think I really had a race as pretext for the sightseeing this time! And I kind of like that feeling of soaking in the destination as much as the race in the whole “destination race” thing! What spectacular desert scenery throughout! And how interesting the differences from other desert environments I’ve been lucky enough to visit! So I think I’ll make this post into more of a “travelogue” (be forewarned), and so a separate post tomorrow on the race itself.

The trip idea started when I sought out a race someplace scenic that coincided with my winter “break,” and Calico ended up fitting the bill nicely. I’d also heard good things about the race from friend Kelsey, who did the race last year. Then, looking at a map to see where I could do a few days of “getting back to nature” and re-charging mentally for the busy work months ahead. So cool to see that Joshua Tree NP was sort of vaguely on the way from Los Angeles to the Barstow area (not exactly, but who’s counting!). And glad to remember the article from Trail Runner mag about cool trails to run on there…and then be able to track it down on-line from their site (from 2006). Both of the trail runs I did were recommended by that article…and just as cool as advertised!

So, Wed. was a flight into Orange County, and then the 2 1/2 – hour 130-mile drive (with some great L.A. traffic thrown in!) northeast to the town of Twenty-Nine Palms, near the Oasis northeast entrance to the NP. Stayed at a nice little cozy inn called the 29 Palms Inn for three nights. The increasingly arid terrain, the surrounding mountains like snow-covered Mt. San Jacinto and one other snowy peak whose name I need to look up, the cool valley with miles of windmills on either side of the interstate before the turn off onto Rt. 29 (27?)…some of the highlights of the drive up to 29 Palms.

Thursday morning I did an 11-mile, 3-hour out and back run/hike of the Boy Scout Trail, accessed from just inside a separate northern entrance with a ranger station that is located just west of the town. Started out in the first couple miles following a wash with a steady, slow incline, with mostly low shrubs like creosote with great views of the Wonderland of Rocks (such odd and varied piles and piles and piles of rocks, and a climbing mecca, though no climbers were to be seen that day). Mostly sandy footing, but it was soft enough and the grade was just enough that it was hard to keep a good pace going, so it was run/walk. Then you start entering a series of canyons, including some really cool slot canyons, as you continue to climb upward, and the footing becomes rockier and a little more technical. In this section there are a few more signs with arrows at points where you could go off-trail, but most of the way you have to rely upon your sense of the basic direction of the washes, and the occasional rocks lined up on the edge of the trail to sort of direct you and keep you from wrong turns. But navigation proved surprisingly easy, and I only got off trail once, and only for a few feet before I realized my error. Pretty much all the trails in the Park proved follow the same basic parameters. Blazes or greater signage would kind of ruin the views, when you think about it.

Then after maybe 4.5 miles or so along the Boy Scout trail (why exactly it’s called that I don’t know), you enter this beautiful high plateau. Up around 4,000 feet or so maybe? (Gotta check my Garmin specs). And there suddenly it’s Joshua trees every 20 to 30 feet as far as the eyes can see. Majestic! In the background, the beautiful higher peaks of the northern part of the Park, west a snow-covered peak. Awe-inspiring! So quiet out there, with no one around (saw a total of two other hikers and two overnight backpackers the whole time!). The only sound my own footfalls and the wind (which could be strong at times, and the arm warmers I was testing out served me well along with my long-sleeve tee).

Really hated to turn around when my watch read 5.5, but I knew how much time was ahead of me, and wanted to get on to some afternoon hiking and drive-by sightseeing. I knew the whole trail was a 16-mile round-tripper, and that the miles ahead of me that I was foregoing were flatter and less eventful terrain-wise, though I’m sure the views would have continued to be awesome. Going back proved to be faster, and a lot of fun, as it’s mostly downhill, and you can really cruise down those switchbacks and admire the Wonderland of Rocks and the canyons in a different light and from a different perspective.

After a picnic lunch in the warm sun by the trailhead and a stopoff in town for a coffee to go, it was back into the park via the Oasis entrance. The highlight of Thursday afternoon was the 2.4 mile round trip hike up to Ryan Mountain, which at 5,461 feet is the Park’s highest point (but not it’s most demanding ascent at all, according to the guidebooks). It’s not particularly steep, and the footing is quite good, and a fair number of hikers of various ages were making the trek up from the roadside parking lot in late afternoon. The views get more and more interesting as you wind around and up the mountain, and then at the summit you have a 360 degree view that is truly awesome. Desert cut by ridges to the east and south, the Wonderland of Rocks to the north, and to the east the impressive snow-covered peaks. All bathed in the gorgeous late afternoon sun, with yellows giving way to more oranges as the sun moved lower. I changed into my windbreaker nearing the top as it was quite windy and brisk, and a nice Aussie whom I encountered was kind enough to walk the few steps back up to the top to take my picture. When I asked him if JP and Death Valley (which he mentioned just visiting) were at all like the Outback, he joked about how flat it is back there at home by comparison. And how excited trekkers get when there is so much as a turn in the road or trail across that Australian icon!

Friday morning it was on to the other major climactic and vegetation zone, in the southern part of the Park, which is the Colorado desert (part of the larger Sonoran desert system). It’s so cool to see the changes as you drive the 35 miles or so south through the park, descending in altitude, and entering a terrain with all kinds of cacti, instead of the characteristic Joshua trees and other yuccas of the northern, Mojave section of the park. Cholla, beavertail (like Mexico’s nopales from what I can tell), cactus species like that, prevail in this part of the park. There are still ridges in all directions, but they tend to recede more in the distance, be lower, and to take different forms and colors from the northern ridges in the park. Here you’re below 2,000 feet mostly.

I did a gorgeous trail run of about 7.8 miles, in somewhere around 2:20, along the out and back Lost Palms Oasis trail. You access it just a mile or so from the Lost Palms (southern) visitors’ center. Here there were more folks, but by no means crowded trails at all. More of a wide open, rolling desert trail, sandy but with its share of rocks. Leading down into a wash and down some smaller canyons and then to the top of a deeper but narrow canyon, where the trail ends. And then voilá, you look down into the canyon to see a whole line of palm trees smack dab in the middle of the desert—so cool! From there it’s a fun, quite manageable scramble down some switchbacks into the canyon (you have to take some care with the scree), and on the canyon floor you come face to face with the massive palms (of two different species, as some have that more “normal” sleek look, and others have a bushy covering that extends from palm fronds all the way down the trunk toward the bottom). Pretty unusual sight, though one not so “with-it” woman hiker I encountered proclaimed something about liking the “trimmed” ones better! ”Then go visit an arboretum!,” I felt like shouting!

In the canyon you can see that there is a spring, with occasional puddles of water, that irrigates the narrow strip of valley between the canyon walls which hem you in two sides. Don’t think I’d ever really seen an oasis so close up! You can sort of bushwhack your way on through the canyon as the palms continue as far as the eye can see through the twisting canyon in front of you, but the footing becomes dicier. Plus the mind does tend to wander to rattlesnakes, as you can’t see exactly where you’re stepping while you traverse downed fronds, mud, rocks, and other stuff all kind of thrown together in mounds. You start to feel like a machete might come in handy!

I spent maybe 15 minutes just sort of exploring and taking pictures, and then hiked back up the canyon and took a few more pics from the top, before heading back. The return trip was a pleasant net downhill, and I could appreciate more the views southward to and across various ridges, and to the Sea of Dalton, which I gather lies outside the Park. Lots of cool cacti of all sizes and shapes. It was a clear and pretty warm day, hitting 70ish but with the air still cool, and I was fine in my shorts and short sleeves and “Lawrence of Arabia” sun hat.

Not too much in the way of wildlife spotted on the various hikes over the two days at JP. Mostly restricted to small lizards, a couple of long-eared jackrabbits, and some desert field mice or something along those lines. No rattlers or other snakes (fine by me!), mountain lions, or elusive desert bighorns. And oh yes, just as I was complaining to my mom on the cell leaving the park of the relatively few wildlife sightings, a smallish coyote did cross the road in front of me on the road just outside the park, and next to a row of houses. He didn’t stay still long enough for me to get his picture once I pulled off the road, but fortunately (s)he did finally walk off the road behind me, rather than crossing it again in front of the cars coming up behind me as he seemed to be doing for a few seconds.

After a picnic lunch at the Lost Palms campground (totally deserted), I drove back north, and moved into road-side national park sightseeing mode till dusk. Plenty of explanatory signs at various vista points and points of interest along the roads. The Cholla cactus garden, as you near the transition zone between the two deserts, was a real highlight. Spaced just a few feet apart, the white tips of these little guys turn a luminous silver type color when they are backlit by the sun. Set in a narrow valley framed by ridges on either side, it makes for an incredibly beautiful tableau of color, as you walk the few hundred yards along the nature trail through this natural “garden.”

Back in the northern section of the park again, I drove to Keys Point. At 5,175’, it’s the highest point you can drive to in JP. The views from this wind-swept vista are spectacular—especially east toward Palm Springs, the San Andreas fault, and a couple snowy peaks, and south toward various peaks and the Sea of Dalton. It was freezing up there even with my windbreaker and long pants, and the gusting winds nearly blew off my hat despite the chinstrap! Another cool stop was at Cap Rock. Bathed in the late afternoon glow, this rock climbing mecca had a sole climber, though only a lonely pack sitting on a rock halfway up this formation was visible from my vantage point on the little nature trail that circles around some of the contiguous formations. Only on the way out in the car could I finally make out the guy rappelling down the other side (presumably the owner of said pack!), and stopped to get a nice shot where he barely came out.

Really hated to leave the park, and head back to 29 Palms for my last night, and then on to Barstow the next day to get checked in for the race (the subject of my next post). But I had pretty much squeezed as much as I could out of two full days of venturing through this captivating piece of desert real estate. Amazing it took till 1994 to make this into a full-fledged national park. A lot more to see, a ton of trails to explore, much that Esperanza would love to see…so plenty of excuses to go back!

2009-01-04T22:19:00.000-08:00

PHUNT was phunner than ever! Such a nice, low-key way to ring in the new year of running.

Organizers Phil and Hunt outdid themselves this year with a larger “fat ass” event than ever, with close to 200 participants among the 20K, 42K, and 50K distances. Still as well-organized as ever, and one of the nice new touches was a charity foodbank drive where they asked each of donate a can of food for every 10 miles we planned to run. It proved to be a beautiful sunny if chilly and windy day for a run through the rolling countryside of Fairhill Natural Management Area, just west of Newark, DE and south of PA in Elkton, MD. Across fields, down dirt roads, along forested single track, up and down many a hill, across many a stream, and amongst quite a few frolicking deer.

A Fearsome Foursome

We had a nice little group in my car, with Judith, Stephanie (Case), and Garth. It was also great to see Mason and Brennen just before the start, keeping warm by a fire as they were dressed minimally and for speed! Didn’t see them afterwards as these speedsters were long gone. Probably for that brewpub in Newark they mentioned to me! And couldn’t find their results, but hope to hear from Mason on how they did.

After much e-mailing on and off the Yahoo group, it was great finally to meet Stephanie, a Canadian who just moved to the city a few months back after law school in Vancouver and quickly plugged herself into the Flyers and other local running networks. Turns out that in addition to that engaging personality she’s quite an athlete—she’s done a trans-Canada 640K run, the Race for the Planet Vietnam stage race, Boston, etc.! She seemed quite happy with her swift run (somewhere around 5:20 I believe she said). Particularly as she was coming back from an injury hiatus.

Judith did the 20K, and was kind enough to wait around for us for several cold hours after she finished. She seemed happy with her run. There was a little last-minute crisis as we prepared our stuff in the car beforehand, as she realized that she had forgotten to pack her orthotics. But after we determined none of our extra insoles would work, I let her use and cut to size the manufacturer insoles from my Salomons, which I don’t use for running (too roomy) and where I usually use other insoles or arch cushions anyway. That at least enabled Judith to go through with the run, as it looked for a minute like she may not be able to do it at all.

A Recap

Garth and I were together for maybe 2/3 or ¾ of the run. At the start he encountered Steve, a good-humored 50-something (?) pediatrician from coastal MD whom he had met and ended up running with at Highlands Sky and Catoctin. The two of them stuck together the whole way, and at various points I caught up with them. Early on we realized we were going out too fast (around 8:30 pace for the first two miles, which were through fairly flat and runable meadows—Stephanie was still in sight during this part, and I called ahead to say the first finisher from the car must buy a round of beers at the next trail mixer, but that failed to slow her down, and we never saw her again till the finish!). But as we hit the woods and more challenging single track, we slowed, and I lost sight of them during a quick trip behind a tree. I started thinking to myself around this time: “hey, it’s a fat ass, your first event of the year, you have a big 50K destination race in two weeks, don’t’ sweat it, have fun, and think of this as an organized training run!” That thought kind of relaxed me.

Around mile 7 or so I was surprised to catch up to Garth and Steve. The one little navigational problem we encountered on this winding course with many turns, and turnoffs for the shorter distances, was toward mile 17. Here we came back to a point by a stream we had just been a mile or so earlier, and realized there were runners approaching from several different directions. Soon a group of 20-some runners had formed and were engaging in an animated conversation, maps in hand, about whether we were lost and where to go next. During that time, two runners who said they thought they knew where to go went off to check out the next turn maybe 1/10 of a mile away, and were kind enough to run back and tell us that, yes, indeed, they had found the way forward and we should follow them. Which we did!

While waiting for them, at a couple of points in time we had almost followed the advice of some in this gathering, such as Steve, who were suggesting an alternative route from this three or four-way “intersection” where we were stuck. Thank goodness, Steve later remarked, we didn’t follow his suggestion at the time! Turns out, apparently, the three of us had done the mile or so loop that we were actually supposed to, but some folks just now coming to that spot still needed to *start* this loop, and indeed it appeared that the others did then go back and do the loop rather than going with the three of us once the confusion had been (sort of!) clarified. Good sportsmanship! What added to the confusion for Garth, Steve and me was that at that very spot the first time through we had nearly missed a turn (or maybe not?), only to be called back by those behind us who shouted “off trail.” But whether we did the little “extra loop” the right direction or not, in the final analysis we did indeed do it, and my final Garmin GPS watch reading of 30.6 miles came out pretty much how one of the event directors said others’ watches did (and my watch usually undercounts distances a little over that much time and terrain). So we got in a good 31-32 miles, for sure!

Once we got back on course, I immediately started recognizing the forest trails, the beaver dam, and other sections and points of reference from the previous year. So did Garth. We were back on track! I also recalled that it was in that section that Melissa and other folks had gotten turned around or lost last year, and that made me feel better it hadn’t been just our stupidity! Unfortunately, the 15 minutes or so lost in all that course confusion had tightened up my legs. That plus the simple down time probably cost us a bit in terms of potential finish times, but hey, that’s trail running! I recall that at mile 16 we were at about 3:03, and we briefly mentioned the possibility of a 6-hour finish, but the second half, and especially with the time lost, we switched to talking instead of breaking 6:30 as a more realistic prospect to shoot for.

An Unexpected Late Surge

A dose of Advil and of Vivarin somewhere in the vicinity of 19 started kicking in by somewhere in the early 20s. I had started lagging off from Steve and Garth, but caught up with them at some point and we stayed pretty much together till around mile 27. There was one iffy turn in there that had Garth concerned we were off trail, but it turned out we were ok. Steve suggested I take my turn in the lead on the single track (we sort of informally rotated, but more often they had led). I think maybe a caffeinated Hammer Gel then kicked in. That plus being in a really nice area of forested single track, with the mid- to late afternoon sun shining through, and thoughts of still maybe breaking 6:30….some combination of things led me to start picking it up a little, and stop walking any but the steeper uphills. My legs suddenly felt lighter. Also, Steve had been battling some adductor cramps, and a couple times in the previous few miles I had passed on some Endurolytes to him, of which I had fortunately brought an extra little plastic bag. So, quite inadvertently really, I may have surged a little, just as they were lagging a bit. Sometimes I guess you just go with the feeling, like when you pick it up at the end of a training run. If it had been just one of them, I might have had second thoughts, but I still did feel just a little guilty for suddenly bolting away. It wasn’t my plan, but I kind of just went with it!

Before I knew it, I passed a few guys who we had jockeyed with earlier on, and found myself thinking back to my determined charge through the latter miles at Masochist. Only here it was rolling terrain rather than serious downhills, and it felt more relaxed rather than “torpodoes be damned.” I had pretty much given up on 6:30, since I figured—with the course being perhaps a mile long by memory and given the extra distance I thought we may have run—I would end up at 32 or so on the GPS. And by that measure I had 18 minutes to cover like 3 miles!

But it turns out, as I sped nicely along the river, and then made the turn away from the river, that the finish was much closer than I thought! Once I made that turn and started recognizing scenery from last year’s painful final stretch, I realized it wasn’t far at all. And I looked at my watch, with what appeared possibly to be one final rise on the dirt road to go before cresting a hill just before the finish, and saw I had like 4 minutes. So I breathed hard and surged up the little ascent (which I would have much preferred to powerwalk at that juncture), and then saw it was only a few hundred yards and I could make it comfortably if I just kept a good pace. I was real happy to see my watch hit 6:29:30 when I crossed! A good 20-25 minutes better than last year, and in fact a 50K PR (though Catoctin, Bear Mountain, and Montaña de Oro, the others I’ve done, are decidedly tougher courses in terms of technicality and elevation gain/loss, so not to get too carried away!).

Maybe five minutes later, Garth and Steve crossed together. They were all smiles, and we took a couple photos, and then some other group photos back at the car, where Judith and Stephanie were waiting. We enjoyed the nice hot chili and hot dogs at the finish line tent, another nice touch.

Singing PHUNT's Praises

All in all, this is really just such a nice winter, beginning of year, work off the holiday pounds type of event. Totally non-competitive. They give finishers a nice informal Trail Dawgs logo decal stamped on a little piece of carved wood. They charge nothing. But encourage donations of not just the food for charity, but also race foods and drinks, and $5 to cover parking fees and contribution to the recreation area. Three well-stocked, mostly self-serve aid stations make it possible to restock liquids and munchies. The attitude is fun and festive. And the rolling, horse farm countryside is really quite picturesque, and the course quite varied. As Steve noted, you think it’s flat and should be easy, but it really isn’t! Just enough rocks and roots and frozen, uneven ground thrown in to keep you on your feet (or off them, as I scraped and banged a knee about a mile and half in that bothered me a little early on). It’s not a pushover of a course at all, but a real good one to start off the year, work off those cobwebs, and start getting back into shape. This year the temps were a bit cooler (never escaping the 30s, with wind chills maybe never cracking freezing, and my three layers staying on the whole time as I just unzipped when necessary). But it was still more pleasant, as we had barely a cloud in the sky all day compared to the gray skies we had much of the time last year.

On a personal note, I was happy to be able to run a much higher percentage of the time (maybe 75%?) than last year, and feel on a much more even keel energy wise. It’s been a learning curve with this distance, which I didn’t start doing till a couple years into the whole ultra journey. Last year, coming off my broken foot and some subsequent setbacks and literally months of physical therapy for this or that, it was my first “race-type” event in like 5 months. I really labored then to keep Brice and Garth in sight, and they waited up for me many, many times. I remember not being able to run a step for the last 3-4 miles. So I felt like I exorcised a few ghosts this year in being able to finish strong and not feel depleted. Something good to build on, as I look toward Calico and the real start of the ’09 racing season in the weeks and months ahead.

I think PHUNT is definitely one to keep on the running calendar for next year! Thanks so much to Judith, Stephanie, Garth, and Steve for sharing in the great experience! I think 2009 is going to be a special running year!

2009 resolutions, etc.

2009-01-04T13:45:00.000-08:00

Damn! I just typed this out and was saving when the wireless connection on this laptop went down. Let’s see if I reconstruct them. I know these are a few days late, but hey, they still count! They’ve been brewing in my mind for a while but I’m finally getting them “on paper.”

Here are some New Year’s resolutions:

* Be the best runner I can be, within the constraints of schedule, time, family, age, etc.

* Become a more solid 100-miler and an improved overall ultrarunner

* Learn the basics of mountaineering, and start carefully exploring what I’m capable of with ample help from instructors, training resources, guides, etc.. Safety is first!

*Train and race smart and healthy. Know when to back off, and take time off. Keep up the yoga, weights, swimming, and (to extent possible) biking. Let that stuff come before “junk miles” for mileage sake.

*Explore the synergies between mountain ultrarunning and mountaineering.

*Let adoption and fatherhood take their rightful central place in life when they come along (hopefully this year!). Search for that elusive balance when the time comes, but err on the side of family first. Remember: It’s all about the journey, not the destination!

Here are some specific goals for the YEAR that just started:

1) Complete two 100 milers (Tahoe Rim, and another tough Western races in Aug./Sept.)

2) Learn and apply lessons from Iroquois and Bighorn about pacing at altitude, acclimatization wherever possible, blister prevention, use of pacers, etc. Keep learning about strategies of how to tackle these mountain ultra beasts and train for them!

3) Improve my 50 mile times. At Zane Grey, go from 16 hours+ in ’07 do again this year, get under 12:30 or even 12 and under 11, respectively.

4) Improve my 50K times (just did so yesterday at PHUNT!). Let’s see if I end up with any more repeat 50Ks at same races from last year.

5) Keep clear in my mind which are “goal races” and which are “training through” races. Don’t forget to take time off running and to cross-train after big goal races, and especially after that 2nd 100 of the year.

6) Apply myself methodically to the task of learning about and training for mountaineering, starting with the EMS course. Keep an open mind about whether or not this is a path I wish to travel down, and travel the path with caution if I decide to. No summit fever! Ok to say “not my cup of tea” if I discover it’s beyond my capacities.

7) If the course goes well, try a guided summer expedition to a western peak like maybe Rainier. If that goes well and is fun, try a guided expedition up Izta and/or other nevados in Mexico next December.

8) Find a way to sneak in a tri in 2009, hopefully my first off-roader. Do one of the MIF open water swims this year.

9) Do some AMC group hikes, including something this winter

Finally, some medium- to long-term goals (including some life listers):

* Complete three serious mountain ultras in 2010

* In 2011, the year of “50,” complete one of the Grand Slam 100 series of four races in a single summer (Classic Slam, Western Slam, or Rocky Mountain Slam, preferable one of latter two)

*By the end of 2013, finish all the 100s on the Hardrock qualifying list…including HR itself!
Finish two loops at the infamous Barkley

* Trt a stage race overseas in some exotic, exciting location

* Crew Badwater to check it out close up and explore whether…

* Tackle some South American or Asian peak at 20,000 feet or more with a guided, experienced team, if the mountaineering dream continues

*Find a way back into tri’s on my own terms, hopefully passing through off-road. Perhaps the Ultimate XC three-day challenge in Quebec if held in 2010 as one concrete thing? Keep looking for longer off-roaders out there, beyond the X-Terra distances

* Find groups to do some long-distance backpacking or running in beautiful places…just for fun!
Winter sports? Winter tri’s? Long-distance snowshoeing or cross-country?

* Never stop dreaming, but keep those feet firmly planted so you don’t fall over! Safety is never optional!

SM

Reflecting Back on 2008

2008-12-29T17:51:00.000-08:00

The year 2008 treated me well on the running front--so sorry to see it go! After the injury travails of 2007, I felt fortunate to stay healthy. That was my single biggest accomplishment of the year, in fact. Not a single visit to the physical therapists--after spending more time in than out of PT in '07 (nothing personal, my dear friend PTs, but I prefer to see you on social occasions only!).

Why? I guess I was "due" a good year. Thanks, running gods! But also I think I played it pretty smart in terms of cross-training, off or low periods after major races, and just building up a certain base of time on my feet that carried me through the year. Packed in the quality mega-long runs getting ready for those 100s, for sure. But didn't just pack in miles for miles sake, and even backed off the back to backers I used to swear by. Got back into the yoga later in the year, too, and definitely want to keep that up.

Maybe more *is* actually more, when it comes to ultras! I was healthier with the "ultra a month" plan than in previous years with races more spaced out. 9 ultra starts, 8 finishes, plus the other shorter stuff. The key was, I think, to have some as just organized training runs without serious time goals, and others as "A races" I could taper for and recover from. Worked out well, so more of that to come in '09!

The other thing I'm happy about was pushing the envelope with new challenges. "Limits off," my new heart rate watch flashed as it beeped at me in Mexico a few days before the Izta race. Still can't figure out what that means as I hadn't programmed in any limits, but I like to think that's a good mantra to follow--keep pushing those limits, stay out of that comfort zone! This year it was proving to myself I could hang in there for 100 miles just three months after the 2nd Bighorn fiasco. And the SkyMarathon and the challenge of racing at altitude. Let's see what new challenges '09 will bring!

Performance-wise, the second half of the year was definitely better than the first. The only one that stands out as a decent effort in the first half was really the Bear Mountain race. Bighorn was a learning experience (again!), and I was definitely on a better pace than in '07, but probably needed to start out slower so I could sustain better. Altitude is a sneaky devil. But things got much better from Catoctin in early August onward! Montana de Oro, Iroquois, Mountain Masochist, etc. Reduced weight, different blister prevention strategies, learning to run lighter with a handheld, adding in those marathon-pace longer tempo runs....but most of all, something just "clicked" somewhere along the way in terms of having more of a positive "can-do" attitude. Hard to explain. But wish I could bottle it, whatever it is, and keep it! Not sell it, just keep it!

Most of all, I've really got to be grateful for all the incredible places I got to run on trails this year. The snowy peaks and beatiful valleys of Jemez and Bighorn. The incredible coastal mountains of Montana de Oro. The hot desert training run in Canyonlands and the "grizzly alert" run early one morning at Glacier, with bear spray at ready and shouts of "hey bear" around every corner. Beach runs in Acapulco and Florida. The wonderful up and down trails in Santa Fe. The rocky forests of Bear Mountain/Harriman and Catoctin. Some great runs in all seasons, solo or with friends like Garth, at the Palisades and Harriman. It really was a special year in terms of experiencing beatiful places, seeing wildlife, taking in breathtaking vistas, just soaking it all up. It would be pretty hard to top the breadth and diversity of ecosystems and climates I got to run in this year. Hmmm....maybe rain forest and arctic tundra were missing, but that's about it!

Just remembering it all re-affirms my love for trail running, and the desire to get out there and experience even more next year. And while I'm at it, push back a few more limits! But--you know me--carefully, with calculation, deliberately. Don't put your full weight on it before you've got a secure handhold, as they say!

Scrambling Through: Sky Marathon Iztaccíhuatl on Mexico’s “Woman in White” Volcano

2008-12-16T10:06:00.000-08:00

Altitudes above 15,000, you say? Ok, that’s higher than Rainer or the famous 14-ers of Colorado, but we’ll just rest a little more and go a little slower, right? But agonizingly steep scree slopes of volcanic sand and rocks requiring hand over fist scrambles and perilous “butt slide” descents? The mountaineers going around us to and from the peak, with their helmets and ice axes and poles, must have found us “sky runners” quite an amusing sight!

Yes, the Sky Marathon Iztaccíhuatl proved to be much more of a challenge than I and newfound Mexico City friends Wendy and Alex (courtesy of the Ultra list) had bargained for? Six hours (plus about 25 minutes in my case) to cover 21.6K (about 13.8 miles by my Garmin)? You MUST be kidding!

I can’t remember Wendy’s exact words after the race, but it was something to the effect of, “What did you get us into?” Yes, it was *I* who had convinced them, the locals, to come along to the race when we met up on-line on the Ultra List as I posted a question about high-altitude races and heart rates a few weeks prior to my trip and Wendy replied with a direct message. Mind you, she’s a veteran of Wasatch 100 and Bear 1000, and has paced Hardrock, and Alex has done quite a few ultras up to 50 miles. And they had done another of the races in central Mexico’s “Only for Savages” (Solo para Salvjaes) race series that this race is also part of (to the top of the Nevado de Toluco west of Mexico City). And they live and train at around 7,500 feet in Mexico City, and regularly head up to 10,000-12,000 feet on weekend trail runs, and kindly introduced me to one of their favorite trails the weekend before on a training run. So, if *they* found it off-the-charts tough, imagine this flatlander!

The “woman in white,” so-called because the mountain takes the shape of reclining woman covered in snow, was looming large and beautiful as the sun rose from behind her as we drove toward the race in the early morning hours. It was a pretty thrilling scene to arrive at the alpine shelter site at about 12,500 feet that served as the race staging area, and see all the runners assembling in the valley that lies between the extinct “Izta” volcano rising to the north and the quite active Popocatepetl (“El Popo”) to the north. It was a sunny, unseasonably warm winter day, with barely a cloud in the sky, with temperatures reaching the 60s down below and probably never below the 50s up to where we were going. Izta, which rises to 17, 159 feet, still had a fairly small snowpack, mostly on her “head” and “bosom,” but not so much if any on her “feet” toward which we would be climbing.

El Popo, which reaches 17,802 feet and has been off limit to hikers and climbers for several years due to heightened volcanic activity, had a more extensive icy (glacial) covering of the upper reaches of its more classic conic dome. And as Alex pointed out, if you looked closely, you saw that some of those “clouds” by the cone were, in fact, a steady stream of smoke or vapor rising from the majestic mountain. Living up nicely to its Náhuatl name of “smoking mountain.” Cool beyond words to be close to such grandeur! Also, as I had hiked with some expat friends up to the Popo snowline back in 1985 as a visiting Fulbright student, it brought back fond memories to see the mountain up close, and to be starting from the same shelter (if memory serves) where we overnighted way back then.

This out-and-back (make that “up and down”!) race ascends roughly 3,870 feet to a little under 16,000 feet The first 7.5K, where took us up 820’, are taxing but really proved to be just a warmup. The footing was good on a wide dirt road with scattered small rocks. Though I ran slowly for a few minutes at a time up a few sections that weren‘t as steep, I quickly realized power-walking was more efficient, particularly when I would sometimes pass those who were attempting to run. I was with Wendy and Alex at times, and had them in sight.

So far, so good--I thought--the breathing seemed to be under control. At one point around two hours in it looked like I was averaging 15 minutes a mile, which is decent for a steady, slow ascent at altitude. Little did we know what awaited us above once the 15Kracers headed back down, though!

The climb--and here I use the term in the more literal sense, though rock climbing or alpinism this was not--from 7.5K up to the turnaround at about 10.6K, and then the descent back to that same point, easily took up half of the race by way of time. In that section we gained about 3,051 vertical feet (in less than 2 miles). As Wendy put it afterwards, she noticed on her Garmin they went suddenly from 15-minute to 48-minute miles! Suddenly, we were on much steeper slopes, sometimes wide but occasionally with hundreds of feet of exposure a few steps away (but nothing that activated my vertigo tendencies, I’m happy to say).

The soil was volcanic dirt, cinder, and sand, interspersed with everything from pebbles to boulders the size of small animals to every size and shape in between. In some sections rockier, in some places sandier. Two sets of flags of different colors marked the sort of outer boundaries of the ascent (whether just for us, or there generally for the mountaineers and recreational hikers, I wasn’t certain). So, without a neat little trail per se, there was a certain amount of deciding whether to just follow those ahead or to weave to one side or another to find a more accommodating “line.” But navigation or wrong turns were never an issue—when in doubt, proceed upward!

As I slowly moved higher, the strenuous grade, tenuous footing, and altitude began to move me into the “take a few steps, then stop to breathe” mode which I had read about in mountaineering books but never quite had to put into practice. In some sections, you felt as if your feet would slide back a few inches for every upward step you took, such as the beach-like quality of the terrain.

Increasingly, I was making more use of my hands to power me up certain sections. Though it remained warm and gloves weren’t really necessary for warmth, I was glad I was still carrying mine, and had put them back on by now for better grip and skin protection. I was glad, too, that I was wearing my sturdy Montrail Hardrocks with gaiters (over my lycra tights). They give good underfoot protection and as good traction as one can expect on that surface (I did manage to avoid any falls despite many close calls).

One of the Mexican runners struggling upward alongside me commented at one point to me (in Spanish) of, “now I can see why you’re wearing those boots.” I guess to someone wearing road shoes, hardcore trail shoes do look like boots! Another, noting my Camelbak and Fuelbelt, asked if “among your belongings you’re carrying any Micropore?” He was getting a hotspot, but unfortunately I wasn’t carrying any footcare aids, nor was another runner also carrying a pack nearby whom he then asked.

On that note, Wendy, Alex and --comparing notes after the race--were a little surprised by not only the minimal footware but the fact that many racers chose to carry little or no water at all, relying on the six checkpoints of which maybe four had any aid to speak. One guy after the race, who was a climber and not a racer, admired Wendy’s and my “Joe Trail Man” trailrunning gaiters and asked how he could get them.

Say what you will of ultrarunners, but we come prepared! And I needed every drop and ounce of those 2 liters of water, 2 eight-ounce bottles of Heed and Perpeteum, four gels, and one pack of Clif Shot Blocks I was carrying. And could have used more! The only thing I took the whole way from the aid stations was one small piece of energy bar and a few sips of Coke. Thanks, Wendy, for forewarning me about the wisdom of traveling self-contained and not having to worry about the origins of the water or “mixed drinks” we might be drinking! Speaking of which, they weren’t quite mixed drinks, but one self-appointed volunteer along the way who was handing out nice little galletas Maria (sweet crackers) smeared with Carnation milk was also offering shots poured right from a bottle of something or other (Tequila? brandy?). Both directions I kindly declined the shot, but did enjoy one of those tasty crackers on the way down!

As we got higher, the views behind us of El Popo, which now gave the illusion of appearing closer up, became even more jaw-dropping. And to our west loomed the more distant snowy visage of El Nevado de Orizaba, which is Mexico’s highest peak, at 18,619 feet. But despite the occasional photo break, it was hard to soak in the views, what with the more immediate challenges of propelling oneself up against gravity amidst the thinning air and all! At one point I loosened my cheststrap on the Camelbak so that my chest could heave in and out more easily as I strained to suck in more air.
Despite my advance fears (and no experimenting with Diamox I had asked a doctor about or even aspirin to thin the blood), I don’t think I experienced any altitude sickness symptom per se (e.g., no headaches, no nausea, though my stomach wasn’t always happy). Yet when I would occasionally straighten up from the mostly bent-over position I was traveling in as I leaned into the mountain, I would often experience a brief second or two of light-headedness. Conditioned as you might be, these were serious altitudes, and as you looked around at any given point in the upper reaches half the people were hands on hips or crouched over or sitting on rocks, in resting mode. This woman in white was one tough mother!

Each time we finished a section of the ascent or reached another of the race checkpoints, I looked upward hopefully toward what I hoped was our turnaround destination, only to see a string of racers still reaching upward and around the mountain. It seemed to go on and on, and at one point I despaired of ever reaching the top. Several times I saw racers who had given up and were headed down, or others who were resting on rocks and seemed to be preparing to throw in the towel. The organizers had declared a 3 ½ hour time limit for reaching the cutoff. Though clearly they couldn’t enforce it short of a helicopter rescue or some strong climbers to carry down stragglers (neither of which I saw any signs of!), I nonetheless worried a lot about making it, knowing it was important if I hoped to get back down under the (again informal) 6-hour finish “cutoff.” (Which didn’t matter, as all who completed the course got finishers’ medals.)

Finally, we could look up, and see what appeared to be the turnaround point. Racers heading down encouraged us with shouts of “Animo, you’re almost there!”. This section was by far the steepest and most difficult of the race—and I mean off-the-charts difficult like no section I’ve ever been on in any mountain ultra, to be sure. It was basically pick your poison. Either go to the right and attempt to get enough purchase on the steep volcanic sand and scree to try to hoist yourself up slowly (the more direct line). Or stay to the left and scramble up the steep rock and boulder field, which offered better handholds and traction but was a more indirect line. I chose the latter course.

On all fours, I tried to make sure of each hand and foot hold. Many of the rocks weren’t firmly in place, and on a number of occasions I or others had to shout “Roca” (Rock!) to alert others to mini-slides we inevitably created for those just below. On one occasion, on a section that wasn’t even quite as steep, a stumbling fist-sized rock hit me just above the ankle bone. Had it had any more momentum, I could have broken something quite easily. But no worse for the wear, fortunately!

I remember looking at my now dust-covered Garmin and seeing at one point I had 20 minutes to make the informal turnaround cutoff. And while the high point of the race was finally quite visible, and those coming down assured us we were almost there, those last few hundred vertical feet were like nothing else I’ve encountered in a race. The rocks had ended, and it was all uber-steep cinder, sand, and pebbles. I balled my hands up into fists to drive them into the soft stuff and propel myself up those last few minutes, as my heart felt as if it would pop out of my chest. A guy who was a few steps from the “top” was crouched over with what seemed to be dry heaves (I didn’t want to look too closely). He looked pretty much like roadkill, and I didn’t feel too much better myself!

Finally at the turnaround, somewhere around 3:35-40 into the race (and still 1,214’ from the summit, mind you!), the views of El Popo were incredible. It was a little surreal, as there wasn’t much room to stand, and racers naturally stopped to catch their breath and take photos while volunteers checked off race numbers and marked your race number or body with green ink to indicate you had it halfway. I took turns taking photos with one guy, and started down after just a few minutes. I looked up once, but the summit wasn’t visible.

That was when it dawned on me that breathless ascents make for perilous descents. Immediately, for me and most everyone around me, it was major butt slide time. Made me think of schoolboy baseball days of sliding into second base, except I never used my hands at times to brake those slides like I did now! Once we reached somewhat less steep sections, with more rocks to break the footing up (if not one’s bones!), it became more of the slalom- or surfing-like “run sidewise left for a few steps then sidewise right for a few,” in order to move downward with some semblance of control.

Maybe a half an hour or so coming down, when it had become a little more of a controlled rock-hopping and –skirting descent like I enjoy in trail ultras, I started cramping up in my adductors, as sometimes happens to me. A few extra double-doses of Endurolytes (which I took maybe 15 of in the course of the whole race) quickly did their usual trick of unlocking those muscles and enabling me to continue downward.

Unfortunately, my hypoxia-assisted thinking on the way up (“I love downs, and will make up a bunch of time on the descent”) proved to be a little too optimistic. By the time we got to downs that weren’t as steep and where you weren’t in constant fear of imminent face plant or backward fall, I didn’t feel I had the energy left to just let ‘er rip. And once we got to the final 7.5k of more gradual descent on the dirt roads, the energy for the knee lift to do more than just power-shuffle downward just wasn’t there. Progress was steady, but unspectacular, and a fair number passed me, and I couldn’t seem to summon the energy to care too much. Somehow it was a little anti-climactic those last few miles on the way down, as reaching the turnaround had really been literally and figuratively the race’s high point. Hey, I already climbed this baby, and cutoff or not I’m going to finish in one piece! The one nice thing from this section was to be able to look straight ahead and up and admire the majestic views of neighboring El Popo towering in front of us.

For a while, I was motivated by the goal of making the informal 6 hour cutoff. But my Garmin, which proved pretty close to the race specifications going up, told me I wasn’t going to make that. And the last few k, there started to be a fairly frequent stream of vehicles heading upward—some probably race support, a few ATVs, an ambulance going up to assist a racer I think, etc. Fortunately, I could cover my face with my bandanna (like a bandito), such was the amount of dust they created as they went by. My throat got pretty dry from the dust and altitude by then, and remained dry for a few hours after the race even as I re-hydrated.

It was a thrill to finish, and to share big hugs with Esperanza, who patiently waited for us the whole race (meanwhile experiencing some altitude sickness herself), and Wendy and Alex, who had come in right under 6 hours. Somehow I managed not to stop either my Garmin or my stopwatch, but it was somewhere in the 6:20-25 range. Only a few hours more than I or any of us had anticipated! I’ve never been so covered in durt and dust in a race in my life. It took several of those large camping wipes to restore some semblance of normal exposed flesh and wipe away the grime.

So, what to say of this adventure? I was easily out there as long as I might be for a faster 50K. In terms of physical difficulty, those middle 2 to 2 ½ hours were easily the most difficult single section I’ve been on in any single race. For the steepness, the technical nature, and the altitude—quite a triple whammy! It’s really fulfilling to be able to push back a new barrier and make it as high as 15,944 in one piece, and then back down. I had had 12 days prior in Mexico, but two of them at sea level in Acapulco, so I was not even well acclimatized for racing in Mexico City at 7,500 feet or so, let alone double that. While not mountaineering conditions of terrain and technicality, these were at least mountaineering-quality elevations. A pretty cool feeling to be racing up, down, and around mountaineers clad in full garb, even if we left off where their hard work only just began.

One measure of the difficulty is the fact that the finisher took 2:49—and broke the course record! Wendy aptly described his technique coming down from the top as “controlled falling.”

In my hypoxic enthusiasm, on the way up, I recall entertaining thoughts of organizing the “Izta double” for next year or some future double. It would go something like this: get together a little gringo group from among my ultra circles, convince Wendy and Alex to go back against their better judgment, do the Izta race as acclimatization, stay overnight at the shelter, and hire in advance one of the local mountain guides to accompany us on a journey to the summit the next day, or perhaps more realistically over two days. With all the requisite crampons, ice axes, other gear, prior training, etc., etc., of course. I’m not one to “wing it,” present adventure aside! Summiting Izta is said to be technical but not—on some of the easier routes—hyper-technical, as such ascents go. Many foreign guided trips use Izta as acclimatization and training for a subsequent climb up the higher and tougher Orizaba, I’ve discovered in some browsing.

Only time will tell if these were oxygen-starved, high-altitude fantasies, or something I can help turn into reality by enlisted some fellow travelers. (Please contact me if you’re interested.) In the meantime, I’m thrilled to have become an official “sky runner,” and become just another of the “savages” to make the exquisitely exhausting and demanding pilgrimage partway up the slopes of the beautiful “Woman in White.” It sort of gives the concept of “half marathon” a whole new meaning!

And I’m particularly thrilled to have made great new “partner in crime” friends in Wendy and Alex, thanks to this wild and wonderful little race and this trip. Sincere thanks for letting your arms be twisted, guys, and for introducing me to mountain running, Mexican-style! Only for savages, indeed!

fun braving the elements at Pete McArdle 15K

2008-12-02T20:17:00.000-08:00

As posted to the Yahoo user group I moderate on Sunday 11/30:

Hey everyone, what's shaking on the trails?Not sure if anybody else was up in the driving light rain in VanCortlandt this morning. It wasn't exactly a good setting forsocializing, or identifying team singlets or whatever, as it wasdefinitely a day for hats and layers! I saw one Flyer I recognized, butno one from the forum. But it WAS a great day for a race with theadded challenge of competing against the elements!Anyway, I wavered till this morning as no one had taken up my call tocome join me, but saw it hadn't started raining yet at like 8 anddidn't look to be a deluge when the rains came according to WeatherChannel (race didn't start till 11:30). I'm really glad I did! A smallcrowd (by Road Runner standards) of maybe 150 or so braved the rain andwind (not nearly as bad as the Nor'easter we encountered up there forthe UEC in '06, which you'll remember Chris, but not too terribly faroff either!).My legs felt fresh after a little mini-taper the last few days and acouple solo speed workouts the last week since my two weeks off post-Masochist. I wanted a decent "tune-up" race to get ready for this skyhalf marathon in two weeks in Mexico (and remember what it feels liketo run sub-12 minute miles!). Plus, I had the benefit of having donethis particular race twice and knowing not to blow it out early in thefirst two 5K loops, especially on those dreaded back hills! VanCortlandt also used to be my training and racing "backyard" of sorts,and still feels like very familiar and even hollowed running ground, soit's always nice to go back.It's still a "Jeckyll and Hyde" race that beats your legs up right,with the fast flats on cinder and grass around the parade ground andthen the constant short, sharp ups and downs on the cinder and dirtpath taking up maybe half of each loop. There was a fair amount ofpuddle jumping and mud today, and I felt vindicated in my consideredlast-minute decision to go with my light, fast trail Inov-8s with theirzero cushion but superior traction in wet conditions (not to mentionGoretex!). Been training some in them the last few weeks as I thinkthey'll be my shoe of choice in Mexico.Anyway, the Inov-8's plus the Sealskinz socks (over Injinji toesockliners) and Marmot precip pants kept the tootsies warm and dry andhappy, and meant I didn't need to worry much at all about footing anddodging puddles. In fact, I felt like the conditions favored the trailrunner types today! I saw some slowing down and braking on thedownhills as I was entering "no brakes" mode!I was really happy to be able to charge down the downhills and shoot by(at least temporarily!) folks who, at least early on, had better speedon the flats than this aging ultra guy. Ah, the secret weapon of thetrailster when competing with the road runner (sssshhhhh)! The lastloop I kept the momentum coming off the downs going through the flatsand got some distance on some folks who'd I'd been jockeying with. Ifigured I would need it! I was happy that strategy on the last timethrough the back hills left enough cushion for them not to pass me backon the last half mile, which is pancake flat (with lots of puddles!).All-out charges for the finish that strain the hamstrings are notexactly something that 50 and 100 milers prepare you well for!Anyway, just checked my previous results from the nyrr site and I wasthree minutes off my time for Pete McArdle two years ago and only fouroff my 2001 time, back when I was just two months off my liftime 3:07marathon PR at Chicago. And just a second or two under 1:10 by my watchand the official clock, which was kind of an informal goal (not sure onplace, and it was too cold to linger, but I know that a woman whofinished not far behind me did win some kind of 30-something genderaward they were handing out right in the finish chute). Given the muchsloppier conditions today, the heavier clothes I had on (two layers ontop), and the slight course alterations due to the ongoingcoconstruction along the parade grounds (now longer or shorter? notsure).....I'll take it!Oh yes, and speaking of the Mexico race, some great news to report! Mypost to the ultra list (ultra digest) about doing "sky races" with aheart monitor got a reply from an American ultrarunner living in MexicoCity and playing basoon with the Mexico City symphony who's donesimilar races there. (She's a veteran of Hardrock and Wasatch 100's,and her father owns the course record for Wasatch, one of the toughest100s in the country in case you haven't heard of it.) Every time Ipost something there or reply, I seem to have interesting exchanges(like this week a German guy who's preparing for a Grand Canyon doublecrossing with whom I've been exchanging info for the late April R2R2RI've been trying to organize--hint, hint!).So, anyway, Esperanza and I will have company to travel to the "volcanorace" (on the 14th) with her and her husband..and I'll have trainingpartners to at least get in one "long training run in the mountains"surrounding Mexico City next weekend. Despite living there before andtraveling frequently, never quite knew where to go to run (safely,alone) outside the city to train trails. So I'm really psyched, and tohave fellow ultra travelers for all this in particular!Yesterday I did invest in a Polar HRM to track my effort for that raceat Paragon (with a handy altimer as well). That became necessary sinceI discovered with my Garmin 305 this week that you can't actually havea readable display of your HR while tracking time and distance withouthitting like a million buttons (unless you have Superman visiion to seethe tiniest of letters on that huge watchface--poor design for THATfeature! Apparently this is one--perhaps the only?--advantage of the405, which the salesperson showed me). That plus I lost the watch foran older Polar I used to train some with and like a lot.Now, if I could only locate that oxygen mask I've been shopping aroundfor! Those damn hypoxic tents I long for are still too expensive, andSanta has been amenable to bringing one this Xmas!

Cheers,Scott

Mountain Masochist 50 Mile+ Trail Run, 11/1/08

2008-11-05T19:34:00.000-08:00

What a nice way to end my '08 ultra season! And wow, Masochist is a TOUGH race! Not as technical as other 50s, but the climbs seems to go on forever (all 9,000 feet of them!). And in someways the fact that the majority of the race is on various types of dirt roads with good to decent footing means your legs take more pounding with the constant same motion, rather than the more varied movements of technical single track. Fortunately, there are a couple of neat single track sections to break it up. Lots of downed leaves made for pillowy footing in those sections.

With all that repetitive motion (2,000 more feet of climbing than descending), it was the hamstrings and upper calves in particular that bore the brunt. Felt at times like I was on a treadmill set at a max of 15 grade, with the continuous steep and long climbs! Despite a day that wasn't too warm (never got beyond maybe the low 60s or so), I cramped quite a bit. Never enough I had to stop, but it really slowed me in some otherwise runable sections, particularly maybe the third quarter of the race. Thank god for the rejuvenating force of downhills!

It was GORGEOUS in the Blue Ridges! Beautiful fall yellows and reds, as we were constantly under some level of forest cover, even on the dirt/forest service roads, which seem to make up maybe 2/3 of this course. Not a cloud in the sky. Temps got up to maybe into the low 60s, but I kept my vest on all day and just zipped/unzippedand rolled up my long sleeve tee as necessary. Lots of folks in singlets or tees, but you know me, always preferring to err on the side of being too warm rather than too cool!

There was really excellent race organization all the way around, with aid stations every 2-4 miles. Horton really hammed it up at the pre-race dinner and tonights' awards dinner. What a force of nature he is! He can get away with those non-PC comments (particularly about women) with his charisma and presence. He stepped down as RD after 25 years, and ran the race he created this year for only the second time.

I'll admit to being nervous in advance about the whole "agents of intolerance" aspect of Lynchburg country (you know, Jerry Fallwell Airport, Jerry Falwell Parkway, Liberty University!). But they didn't mix religion with sport (much), just some of the volunteers out there who put up signs with biblical proverbs coming into a few aid stations. Oh well, guess I can live with that. Maybe it was a good idea I didn't wear an Obama pin or shirt, which I was tempted to do! Might have gone without the aid! The nice thing was the whole spirit of an ultra community that comes together, year after year, with many folks earning 10 and even 20-year jackets, prizes for two different races series that this culminated for the year, and a sense that people knew each other and treasured this race as special.

My race went very well, I'm happy to report. Didn't make my "A" goal of breaking 11, but made my "B" of breaking 11:30 (11:24:30, good for 135th of 258 starters and 186 finishers). I had hoped to be among the top 50%, and I just missed that goal.

The early part of the race felt good, the pavement for 5 miles where I averaged 9:30s or so, and then some real nice double-track and rocky four-wheel-drive road. The middle parts where we were mostly on smooth gravel roads started wearing on me after a while. There was also a "long trip to the woods" toward mile 20 in there that cost me a good 10-15 minutes, but paid off as I felt much better after, and an Immodium prevented any further such problems! The stomach was mostly settled from then on. I enjoyed the 5 mile single track loop that came in the 30s or so, even though I started feeling the first hamstring cramping there. The last single track section, leading up to the final aid station at about 49, I suffered a fair amount the first two of the four-plus miles, and was caught by one guy. I remember struggling up the last really steep climb, as I felt like I needed to sort of plant my feet a little sidewise to muster the strength and not really seize up.

From maybe 47.5 on through the finish, starting with the final section of single track leading into the final aid station, the downhills really brought my legs to life. I started picking up steam and passing people, and the legs loosened up. Then I hit the last aid station, asked how many miles were left, to which I think they replied "3.5 miles," and I asked if they were "real" or "Horton" miles, and they said they were real. (Turns out, from my Garmin, it may have been closer to 4). I was in such a hurry that I just ate but forgoto fill my handheld, and so I only had a small bit of water plus half a Fuelbelt 8 ouncer with soda to get me through. I saw that I had about 41 minutes to make it under 11:30, and I knew I had to boogie! There was no running the few hundred yards back uphill to the AS once I realized I hadn't refilled the fluids. All the more incentive to finish fast!

Anyway, they said it was all downhill from there, and they were right! First a somewhat rocky dirt road, then a smoother dirt road, and then the last .75 mile or so on the paved road. All told, I must have passed 8-10 people those last 6 miles of downhill, before and after the last AS, and it felt good. I just focused on leaning into it and letting the turnover take over, and I was breathing pretty hard and concentrating intensely. I was really flying for a while there (or so it felt!). As it leveled out toward the finish, I still had a head of steam, and passed a woman and a guy. The guy was real nice about it as he heard me approaching, and said something gracious like "bring it home" or "it's all yours." I didn't want to show anybody up, but I just liked the feeling of ending the race running as fast as I could, and while I was doing that those folks were easing into the finish. Felt very satisfying to finish the race on a high note, and to make it under 11:30 with 5 minutes to spare!

It was really nice of Lisa to hang around at the finish, after her unfortunate DNF due to bad cramping issues. Hanging out with her over the weekend was one of the highlights of the race experience, and driving down the Blue Ridge Parkway the day before on the way in from Richmond, and over part of the old GEER course, was a lot of fun. I thought she would take the bus back to the hotel where the race was staged once I saw her limping back to 26.9 to drop (after being miles ahead of me). But she waited several hours for me once she got taken to the finish. It's nice to see a familiar face at the finish, for a change! Thanks, Lisa! So many racers I've gone to alone and felt the anonymity of the finish (especially if I've brought up the tail end!). It was nice to be a mid-packer for a change today! And I know Lisa, who's such an amazing athlete, will be out there doing great things at races in the coming months!

So, this was the last ultra of the year for me. It was kind of a breakthrough year, with eight finishes and my first 100 finish, but mainly because of the way things have gone since August. The first half of the year didn't feel so successful, despite some really enjoyable race experiences, in particular at Bel Monte, Bear Mountain, and Jemez Mountain. Maybe because I treated them as warm-ups for Bighorn, and then the DNF came, so it cast a negative pall on all of the previous months? But somehow it feels like things have been "clicking" since August--slimmer, running lighter with a handheld instead of pack, a blister prevention system that seems to be more robust, a few different training wrinkles like longer marathon-pace tempo runs mid-week, and just a more positive attitude. Feels like I'm longer running to just make the cutoffs, like I know what it means to "race" an ultra, and push it, and not be afraid to crash and burn in the process! Catoctin really set off a string of what has been four solid races to end up the year right! Really makes me feel confident going into '09. Hopeful to be able to "take it to the next level" whatever that means exactly!). I'm excited now to have races locked in for next year all the wya through the end of April, with some sense of what lies beyond that, too. Makes it easier to rest with a purpose in mind!

So, for now, it's 10 days to 2 weeks of only cross-training and healing. Be kind to my body time! So far, it's been two days of swimming, a day of elliptical/spinbike, with cold soaks, strethcing, and a massage thrown in. Then in about 2 weeks I'll resume training, focus on shorter speed, do Pete McArdle at the end of the month as a training run, and take on the SkyMarathon in Mexico on Dec. 14th. A nice little altitude challenge to end the year. But for now, it's R & R time!

Iroquois Trails 100 report (9/20-21/2008)

2008-09-30T19:50:00.000-07:00

An initial post from our Yahoo trails user group from Monday 9/22, day after the race (or was it Tuesday?).....

Three’s my new lucky number—and so is 13!

Yes, the third time attempting 100 was, indeed, a charm! Plus it was three years ago that these crazy thoughts of doing ultras, and eventually making it to 100, started creeping into my thoughts and beginning to take on concrete form! Oh yes, and Iroquois was my lucky 13th ultra finish (finally matching my marathons completed). So ‘3’ just keeps popping up for me now!

But first, a big shout out of congratulations to my friend and training partner Garth! In his first 50, he ran Iroquois in a swift time of around 11:30 (I’m proud to say, wearing a long sleeve layer I provided him the night before, when he fretted how cold it was at the outdoors pre-race dinner at the race site!). He looked good and happy throughout, as I was near him for a while, and then saw him ahead of me several times in out and back sections. Then briefly said congrats when I reached his finish/my halfway point. He was already seated in celebratory mode (albeit not yet with long-awaited beer in hand!). Garth had been quite worried ahead of time about the tight 50 mile intermediate and finish (12-hour) cutoffs. Fah-ged-a-bout-it, you blew those times away, man!

The other big shout out is to my friends Kim and Phil, as well as Jason from Ithaca. Such supportive, friendly, helpful crewing and pacing, from mile 55 on, could not be found anywhere! With the occasional dose of tough love, “chop chop,” “don’t dawdle at that aid station, “don’t even think about a nap” along the way! NOW I know why crewing and pacing are such great ultra and especially 100 mile traditions. You guys were awesome, and I truly couldn’t have done it without you—the night would have done me in again, for sure.

My race had a great first half. Maybe too great, as it would have been a 50 mile trail PR for me. When I plotted out that my pace a third of the way would have me in under 24 hours, I had to chuckle at that totally ridiculous thought. But did entertain only slightly less ridiculous notions of 27, 28 hours for quite a while. But miles 60-80 or so, in the cold upstate overnight which got down to the low 40s and maybe even 30s, disabused me of such fantasies, and I slowed way down. The culprits: stomach issues that made it hard to eat enough, blisters under both big toenails that I had to drain twice, and a nap I craved but didn’t have time for and my crew sagely warned me away from.

The last 15 to 20 things got better. Sun was out, temps were pleasantly moderate (maybe low 60s tops), the single-track terrain varied and pretty, and the pacer company cheerful and supportive. After my margin on the cutoff shrunk to as low as 2:20 at one point in the 70s or so, I got it back up to 2:50, and then finally made it in at 3:45 under the 36 hour cutoff (for a finish of 32:45, good for 13th of 15 finishers, with the 9 starters DNFing, all due to voluntary drop-outs, the R.D. told me).

The course was really pretty, with hints of fall color already creeping in that far north. And with 17.7 K of up and equal amount of down, plenty challenging—did I mention the DNF ratio?! (Those who I talked to who had also done other Eastern 100s found Iroquois tougher than Vermont, though with a more forgiving cutoff, and a notch or two easier than Massanutten.) Whenever Iroquois started to seem too easy or runnable, it felt like a tough climb would come along! Not as rocky as Harriman, but with its share of rocks, and a ton of roots, twists, and turns. Nice mixture of single track (maybe 60-65%), dirt roads of the forest service or ski access variety (as in up and down slopes!), and a couple miles only of pavement to get you from one set of trails to another.

Very good race organization, especially for a first-time event. Ian Golden, the R.D., is a great guy and committed young runner who also, as I understand it, owns the Finger Lakes Running Company. Imagine e-mailing you in advance to find out what kind of food you like at aid stations, and then following through?! Would have liked some fruits slices and more soup in the night, but you can't have everything!

Nice volunteers (maybe twice as many as actual runners?), with plentiful aid stations that were pretty well-stocked. And the course was reasonably well marked, though I’m glad I carried along a verbal description. That, plus the occasional look back at the next runner when I was unsure, kept me from getting off-course at a few tricky turns. An interesting course design of multiple small loops and out and backs made it friendly for aid, crew, and pacers, but still plenty varied for runners. The event had that nice distinctive ultra feel, with a pre-race dinner the night before, some runners camping out or staying at the cabins on-site, and a nice little finish-line “fry up a meal as they come in” banquet at the finish.

Favorite moments: Sunrise as we ran up and down the slopes at Greek Peak on day one. Then running that same section completely solo under a three quarter moon, starlit early night sky, and encountering a toad on the road who completely froze in my headlamp beam….The lush all-fern sections beneath a canopy of frest at several points along the trail….When Steve from PA, who’s thru-hiked the AT, pointed out the bear scat we were running by…Listening to the owl calls on the Finger Lakes Trail, and then my pacer Jason’s owl calls a few minutes later to try to attract them (no reply!)…At two different aid stations, having a filmmaker (documentarian? reporter?) sticking her camera into my face and training it on my feet for long stretches. As I tended to blisters and changed shoes and socks and she peppered me with questions on what the hell I was doing with tape on virtually every inch of my feet and how I was feeling….Hammering, with Phil nipping at my heels, the steep, technical, windy final descent from the Greek Peak area down to the valley of the finish, on 97 mile legs that still felt workable…The weirdly calm elation of finally reaching a goal you’ve been working toward for…well, three years! Feels pretty damn cathartic!

Thanks to all for your support and encouragement! (For a longer blow by blow for the diehard ultra enthusiast, read on below...)

Race results at: http://www.iroquoistrails.com/

Cheers,

Scott

I wrote this blow by blow in fits and starts over the last few weeks, finally finishing today!

Gatherings (start/finish) loop of Greek Peak ski trails and back to Gatherings at 5.9: Great section of dirt ski access roads. Sun coming up. Longest climbs of the race. It was cool to watch the sun come up over the distant hills, and to run the steep grassy downhill section. A little scary that you could lose your footing. Glad I started out with the Goretex Hardrock's, thanks to R.D. Ian's last-minute warning that we would encounter lots of morning dew. Hate to start off with wet feet. Felt good, and tried not to push it too much on the hills, but couldn't help but let myself enjoy the descents. Ran with Garth for a while, and chatted some with Andrei from Ridgewood, NJ.

Pipeline "lollipop" loop #1 (Gatherings to Pipeline AS, a loop up and around the power line hill, back to Pipeline, and return to Gatherings--5.9-23.5): Finally, the first single track (after a mile or so of steep pavement)! Nice forested moderately technical and hilly sections, with some mostly bone dry creek crossings. Then a long dirt road, then the AS. After that a short road section, more dirt road, and then the long, steep ascent of the hill beneath the power line. Turning onto more dirt road, to loop back to Pipeline, repeating the single track and now downhill pavement back to Gatherings. This was a nice, varied section. I felt good for pretty much all of it. Didn't feel like I was pushing it, but I was worried to be so close to Garth, who was doing the 50 and I knew I should just let get some distance on me. I recall I was well under the 16 minute pace on my chart, and by my rough calculations somewhere between a 14 and 15 minute pace, which seemed fast but didn't seem too taxing. Talked to some folks in this section, like Ruthann from PA and her husband Ed. Most of it I was solo, but with runners in sight ahead of me. I wished I had a change of shoes at Pipeline AS, as the toes were getting a little scrunched in my older pair of smaller GTX Hardrocks. Didn't change into regular Hardrocks (and a new pair of outer socks, Smartwools) until Gatherings at 23.5

Gatherings to Daisy Hollow Rd. out and back section #1 (23.5-49.9): This section was really nice, but pretty tough. The dirt road back through the ski resort, then a steep climb up to Greek Peak, onto the single track, through the GP AS, then more single track on to the Rock Pile and to the Daisy Hollow AS which marks the turnaround. Then reverse course all the way back to Gatherings. I started falling into a slower but probably more reasonable pace in this section, and was conscious of runners who I had been with earlier now ahead of me. It starting warming up a little as I neared the turnaround, and I recall throwing water over myself and even putting water under my hat. But not much direct sun, and I never felt like I was too warm in short sleeves, as my singlets stayed in my drop bags the whole race. Most of the way back to Gatherings, in the late afternoon and early evening, I recall feeling pretty good, but I was also conscious of not moving as quickly as early on.

Gatherings-Greek Peak resort-Gatherings loop (49.9-55.8): It was a real pleasure to come in and see not only Garth sitting there, all content after his first 50 mile finish! I think I joked to him about taking my 50-mile all-trail PR (i.e., not including the mixed-surface JKF 50) at that point and calling it a day! Then appeared Jason, and a few minutes later Kim and Phil, who had just arrived. The whole crew was in place! But I still had to head out alone, as pacers couldn't start till 55.8. Garth came in some 20 minutes ahead of me. I think I came in around 12:50, but this was a long AS stop of 20 minutes or so. Before heading out of Gatherings I changed to another pair of Hardrocks and socks/sock liners (all of which I'd keep on the rest of the way), first draining the blisters under both big toenails with my handy syringe. The videographer came by just after the draining was done, but as I was putting powder in the liners and socks, and she seemed thrilled to shoot my neatly taped/mummy wrapped toes, balls of the feet, and heels! Lots of questions on why I taped, what issues I had with my big toes, how I felt, etc.

This was the first nighttime section, and it was mystical and magical. It was so cool to experience the ski resort section under a starry, moonlit sky, all by myself. A few times I could see headlamps in the distance behind me, which led me to speed up, and then they seemed to recede. Didn't want someone sneaking up on me! Who could be out at this hour?! A neat moment was seeing a toad or frog frozen in the beam of my headlamp, right in the middle of the ski access road I was on. At one point, toward the end of the ski trails and prior to getting on the dirt and then paved road back to Gatherings, I passed a couple guys, but they were the only people I saw close-up this whole section. I felt good on the climbs as well as steep descents of the wide ski roads and trails, but you had to be careful with the footing, especially in the muddy and grassy sections and in the dark. This was a fun section, and I was feeling quite good. After leaving Gatherings at the halfway mark at around 13:10, I felt like my chances of breaking 30 hours (well beyond what I thought possible) were pretty good.

Gatherings to Pipeline out and back and loop #2 (55.8-73.4): Jason was my stalwart pacer for this nighttime section. We had met for the first time at the pre-race dinner, and R.D. Ian was nice enough to put me in contact with this local runner and Cornell Ph.D. student. We had a great time chatting away through the night about anything and everything (jobs, academics, relationships, environmentalism, genetically modified foods, ultrarunning, you name it!). It was really nice to have company the second time through this section. I felt pretty strong through the out section to Pipeline, but then on the loop around and back to Pipeline, as night fell, I started feeling a little less energetic, and felt some queaziness coming on. From Pipeline back in to Gatherings, I felt fatigued, and kind of a loss of energy. This section is a little more technical, and my reflexes felt slow and I felt awkward at times. It was also starting to get really cold, and we could see our breath. A pleasant distraction was hearing the calls of the owls, and then Jason's efforts to imitate their calls and entice them into an exchange and maybe coming closer (it didn't work, but was interesting to hear!). Once we exited the dense forest to hit the paved road section coming out of the Finger Lakes trail to head back in to Gatherings, we REALLY felt the cold of the open air. I had a long sleeve, jacket, stocking cap, hat, and gloves, and I was still cold! Jason was close to shivering, as he was dressed much more lightly. It had been below freezing a night or two before, and I suspect it may have gotten down to the upper 30s or so. I recall mentioning something about really needing a nap. Seeing the 3/4 moon and being all alone on a country road was cool, but it was hard not to focus on just how tired and sleepy I felt!

Gatherings (yet again!) to Daisy Hollow Rd. (73.4-86.6): Hitting Gatherings at 73.4, it was time to bid farewell and grateful thanks to Jason, and welcome Kim as my pacer for the next section. As I ate some tasty quesadillas, drank some soup, changed shorts, put on my Marmot pants, and reloaded food and liquids, Kim urged me to get out of there quickly, and I think the phrase "chop, chop!" came up there (or was it later?). I joked that I was going to ask her if I could squeeze in a 15-minute nap, but she didn't pick him on my hint (thank God, that would have been the WORST mistake!). It was good that she got me out of there quickly, as the way I was feeling, lingering longer was only going to make it harder to head back out again.

The section with Kim, from 73.4 to Rock Pile at 81.4, was probably the toughest physically and mentally, together with the previous section with Jason from 67.1-73.4. These were the witching hours, and my body and mind felt it BIG TIME! (My average pace slipped from 13:53 per mile the first 27, to 17:44 from 27 to 50, to 24:42 from 50 to 77.) Kim kept gently urging me to run if I felt like it , but all I could manage was a shuffle, as I didn't have the energy to lift my legs. I forgot now exactly where, but somewhere along here I fell twice in short succession. Nothing bad at all, no cuts or bruises. Just more the lazy falls of someone who was half awake and couldn't pick up his legs! Just get me through the night, and bring on the daylight, I kept thinking! Kim kept insisting that I drink and eat. I was still having a lot of queasiness, and it seemed like only pretzels or bland fare appealed. I didn't have the stomach for gels, or the Perpeteum, Heed, or Ensure I had taken in earlier in the race. Most of the stuff at aid stations felt unappealing, and I was disappointed there wasn't soup in this section (or fruit, which I probably also would have gone for). There were also two early morning unavoidable "trips to the woods" during this section (don't you love the TMI on ultra blogs?!). No amount of Pepto Bismol and Immodium prevented that good old 24 hour cycle from repeating itself. Race or no race, the digestive tract does its work!

From Rockpile (81.4) on into the turnaround at 76.9, my spirits lifted, buoyed by the early morning rays of a beautiful day. The cheery volunteers at Rockpile made it my favorite AS by far, and the nice forested location, just off a field and dirt road, also gave it a nice vibe. I think some tunes were playing most of the four times through in the course of the two days, too. Anyway, I guess the feeling was, I'd made it through my first ultra night, and I was still moving, go praise be! It felt like I was moving a little better (though my official split through this section begs to differ from that memory--maybe because this is a hilly and somewhat more technical section, requiring more effort?). But then it also felt like it took forever to finally get to the turnaround, as the section has so many twists and turns, you don't get a good sense of how much progress you've made, and how far the station still is.

Daisy Hollow Rd. (86.6) to finish at Gatherings: The glorious home stretch! It felt really important mentally to get to the point where you're turning back, and heading home. On trail that was now familiar, as I was traversing it for the fourth time in two days now. Who cares if it's another 13+ miles?! I can smell the finish! And there was also the passing of the pacing torch from Kim to Phil, which also felt like I'd reach an important milestone--the third of my three pacers was now taking over! Kim had been truly awesome, and we'd talked about this and that all night and into the early morning hours, though I don't recall quite what. She really kept my spirits up when I was hurting. She wanted me to sing at one point, but I couldn't quite get out the tune of the Van Morrison song from the old cassette I'd been listening to in the car, and she didn't seem to know it ("woman, woman, woman, woman, yeah, make me feel so good," or something like that, goes the tune!).

Anyway, Phil was as helpful with his cheerful, low-key, calm demeanor as Kim had been with her upbeat words of encouragement and constant reminders to eat and drink (she wasn't a tri coach for nothing!). There was lots to talk about with him also. Races, family, their hopes to relocate geographically eventually, our jobs, etc., etc. Somewhow I remember more, even though I'm sure I talked just as much if not more with Kim! Just a reflection of my improved level of consciousness in the latter, daytime stages of the race! Phil had the good fortune to catch me in a stretch where I felt much more alert and focussed. (And he got a slightly better workout than she, who only got a hike--sorry, Kim!) I think I said to Phil a few times I could smell the finish!

It was just nice to be in the forest, with the sunlight streaming in, on a cool, pleasant partly sunny day that got cloudier as it progressed. Over the last 13 miles I managed to pick up the pace a couple minutes per mile, and drop down to a 21:16average (and my pace from 77 to 100, of 22:28, was a couple minutes faster than my tortoise pace for the third quarter of the race). Not exactly blistering, but I'll take it. I think at the turnaround where we met Phil I was down to around a 2'20" cushion on the cutoff, which had had me a little worried, and spurred me on. While in a few weak moments overnight hile with Kim there had been some fleeting doubts if I would make it, now finishing felt like a certainty. They had been very fleeting, however, as there wasn't the horrible alone time when you keep asking yourself if you can make it and if you are tough enough and all the stuff that had haunted me at my two 100 attempts at Bighorn. That whole negative mental cycle just never really got started at Iroquois, and I think pacers were really a big difference. And the only question in the final section with Phil became instead, by how much while I finish under the cutoff?

When my gap on the cutoff increased to around 2'45" at Rockpile at 91.8, visions of breaking 32 hours started dancing in my head for a few miles. I made sure we got out of there in a real hurry, and felt like a man on a mission as I took the lead from Phil, and felt (with my 90 mile legs) that I was actually "pushing the pace" for the change. But somewhere short of the last AS at Greek Peak I realized breaking 32 wasn't going to happen. So I backed off a little, and then it seem to take forever to get to Greek Peak, with lots of twists and turns--cross road, back on single track, another dirt road section, back on single track... I had forgotten about all that (how short memory is in these things!). Anyway, once we got there, Kim was waiting for us, and I gave myself the luxury of sitting down briefly to take in some food, and we visited briefly with Kim before heading off for those last 3.6 miles.

The last section coming back down off Greek Peak to the finish at Gatherings had two highlights. The first was the steep, somewhat gnarly and slightly technical downhill, of maybe 1/4 to 1/2 a mile, coming down what felt like a good 800 vertical feet or more off Greek Peak on the Finger Lakes Trail to the dirt road. I live for descents like this! You could really get up a head of steam, but it was like a slalom course, with enough roots and rocks that you had to be careful to keep the knees high. I was really happy to have enough coordination and lycogen or whatever left to be able to sort of let 'er rip without worrrying about falling. Phil was nipping at my heels the whole time down, which added another element of thrill--he being a pretty big guy, the consequences of a little trip felt kind of magnified. Anyway, we made it down without a problem, and then onto the dirt road by the ski resort which takes about 1/2 mile or so until a few hundred yards of road and then the turnoff to the Gatherings and the finish.

On this dirt road section, which is a steady uphill, we powerhiked at a good clip. I kept looking back, as I knew two, maybe three guys were behind me, whom I had passed (as best I recall) somewhere between the last two aid stations and had heard volunteers making reference to as still being out on the course. I was feeling good about making a strong finish, and didn't want to muck it up with getting passed by someone kicking it in! So I kept looking over my shoulder, just in case. But no one appeared. And as we crested the last hill on the road, we shifted back to a run, and it really felt so good to be able to run those last 600-800 yards to the finish. No pain, no cramps (never cramped the whole race), able to generate decent turnover--wow, where was that 30-40 miles ago?! Phil had run ahead to take a picture of me crossing the dirt finish line someone had drawn on the groun. There was just a small contingent of volunteers and the race director and a few stray runners there, plus Kim of course, but they greeted me enthusiasically.

So, what was it like, to finally get to that 100 mile finish line? I had imagined scenarios of overwhelming emotion where I would break down and cry, or kneel down and kiss the ground or something dramatic. A few times in the latter stages of the race I started imagining the finish, but I wouldn't let that go on for long, as I would start to get emotional and lose focus. But in the end it was more like this calm sense of elation, of overwhelming satisfaction, of intense awareness of the surroundings at the finish. The gray, threatening sky, the green field ringed by trees, the volunteers, the hugs and congratulations from race director Ian, Kim, and Phil, the food they immediately offered and I eagerly accepted. It's all etched in my mind, even now 4 1/2 weeks later.

It sounds corny, but I had thought for some time this moment might never happen. But then somehow, it seems like in the preceding weeks and months many things had come together, and led me to be eerily calm and focused and confident before and I think during the race. The trials I had been through at Bighorn and at places like Zane Grey and Jemez, the tune-up 50Ks I had done in early and last August at Catoctin (MD) and Montana de Oro (CA), the quick August buildup in training and addition of more marathon-pace tempo runs of 8-10 miles as a new training wrinkle, the 10 pounds or more I'd lost since June, the decision to switch to a handheld from a Camelbak and to "travel light," the experiment with Injinji liner socks to fend off blisters which worked great, and most of all the great stroke of luck of having such great pacers as Phil, Kim, and Jason. Everything just seemed to fall into place. The picture-perfect weather sure didn't hurt, either! Even my concerns about getting off course were allayed, as I stopped at difficult intersections to either check the detailed course description I was carrying or just waited for runners behind me, to make double-sure I didn't make a wrong turn. Everything just seemed to come up roses with my race preparations, and race execution itself!

Not that I can't learn a ton from this race about better pacing. Or work more on ways to get enough calories when the stomach goes south. Or find some kind of solution to those under the big toenail blisters I had to drain twice. But that all seems like minor stuff compared to the reality of finishing, and with a comfortable margin on the (generous) cutoff. So, for now, I think I'll just continue to ride the wave of good feeling post-race that has lasted a good month now!