Life on the Run

Fun Meets Serious Fun

2012-02-03T09:37:00.002-06:00

During the last two months I have had a lot of fun running and riding with very little structure. I cruised along slowly most of the time, but cranked up the pace when I felt like it. My legs have felt great at both sports. And my back, well, it returned to normal only to bring its wrath upon me again last weekend. The problem is not as bad as it was in the Fall and I do not plan to allow it get any worse. Enough whining.

Helping out at the Hardrock 100 last July renewed my interest in completing a 100 mile event. There must be some reverse psychology at work along the lines of misery lover company. So, I entered the Western States lottery. Then, out of curiosity, I watched the lottery on my laptop while also watching a basketball game on TV. The excitement displayed by those runners fortunate enough to get drawn was enough to instill in me even more desire complete a 100 mile event. This form of self-inflicted pain and suffering is, apparently, a most desirable commodity.

An internet search made me aware of events all over the country. Eventually, I settled on the Bighorn 100 in northern Wyoming. The BH100 course is an out and back between Dayton, WY and a point high in the Bighorn National Forest. With altitudes ranging from about 4,200 ft to 9,300 ft, the BH100 involves about 17,500 feet of ascending and 18,000 feet of descending. The altitudes are far lower than any other mountain race in which I've competed, but race reports reveal a muddy, rocky, and uneven course that cannot be taken lightly. I am really excited about both the event and the preparation for the event.

The preparation has already begun. I am going BIG on my miles :) OK, they are big miles for me. The key to the preparation will be long trail runs. My favorite! I've already made a few trips to Land Between the Lakes. I also recently "discovered" the Indian Celina or Two Lakes loop. Though I've known about the Indian Celina Challenge for several years, I did not run in the event or even run on the course until a couple of weeks ago. What a blast!

I had heard about how brutal the Challenge course was, so I took it easy, using the Polar RCX5 to make certain to keep my average heart rate in check. With more than 3,400 feet of vertical over about 13 miles, this loop is a veritable roller coaster. Crossing a few dozen small streams that feed into the lakes adds to the lure of the Two Lakes trail. I did find myself excitedly smiling after getting soaked while crossing the two almost knee deep, twenty foot wide creeks in the tenth mile. Did I mention that the temperature that morning was 30F? I added a 14-minute out/back onto the end to help thaw my feet and to allow me to reach my goal of a two hour run (2:01). Again, what a blast! I plan to go back there several times this spring, but I won't race in the Challenge because it takes place a week before the BH100.

It would be remiss of me to not share a wildlife experience I had along the Two Lakes trail. At one point, as I descended along a steep and winding section of trail, I suddenly heard and felt a chorus of booms. Leaves flew into the air all around me. I ducked and put my arms over my head as if that might somehow protect me from an unknown attacker. Without realizing it at the time, I didn't break stride. Peering under my forearms I could see forty or fifty turkeys launching into flight in all directions. The surrounding forest was silent after those initial wing flaps, so my footfalls (and heartbeats) were the only sounds I heard as I ran along watching the disappearance of the largest rafter of turkeys I'd ever encountered.

The spooked rafter reminded me of another fowl uprising that took place in 1996 in the Smokies. My sons and I were hiking on a gorgeous June morning when five-year-old Brandon decided to use some of his boundless energy playing hide and seek. He hid behind several trailside trees and jumped out with a "BOO" when (unsuspecting?) three-year-old Tyler and I walked by. It was when Brandon decided to hide behind a huge rotting and hollow tree stump that the game took a turn for the worse. As soon as he ducked behind the stump a shotgun-like blast occurred. Brandon came racing back onto the trail. With his arms raised above his head he began to run around Ty and I in tight circles as he screamed "Get it off! Get it off!" The "it" was a grouse (think wild chicken) that had exploded from its nest beside the stump. It was long gone. Honestly, holding back the laughter was quite difficult. Though many a grouse had already tested my heart and my bladder, that one caused a maniacal reaction that I could see second hand. And it was as funny as I had always imagined it to be.

Beyond the reestablishment of the long trail run in my training, the only other iota of structured activity has been the development of a new set of test run courses. Because I have long believed that changes can stimulate and facilitate growth, I decided that a new set of test courses would help me reach my 2012 fitness and race goals. The three I settled on range from short and flat to long and hilly. I will study heart rate data from runs on these courses to monitor and adjust my training.

A glance over to the list of 2012 events at right will reveal some of the events I have entered at this time. My goals for the year are quite diverse, ranging from that BH100 to other trail runs like LBL to half marathons to duathlons, so I expect an interesting training year as I try to find a balanced approach. It is difficult to complete really long runs and fast runs and fast biking in a single training cycle. Then again, the difficulty will add to the freshness and motivation.

One specific and personal goal I have for 2012 is to find my cycling legs again. The nerve injury I sustained in August 2010 kept me from the bike for about a year, so I managed only 1,100 cycling miles last year. Time off of the bike made me miss cycling and certainly caused my performances to be subpar. So, hopefully, I will have enough energy and good enough health to train for a 100-mile run and log enough cycling miles to GO FAST!

Enough writing, I have got to get out and train! ST

A Pictorial Glance of 2011

2012-01-16T19:33:00.004-06:00

I took hundreds of pictures while traveling and racing during 2011. A recent review of those pictures made me realize that there were many more shots that I could share. Enjoy!

Mt. Sterling Tower

How DO these get so mangled?

Getting High on Faith

Biltmore Estate

Great way to start a long run . . .

First Long Mountain Run of 2011 (So thirsty . . .)

Interesting Running

The Old Time Jam at Jack of the Wood

Jack Daniels Distillery, TN

Awesome Woodwork Inside JD

Jeremy and I With Prizes

Located a cooler for Uncle John to use at the reunion.

Ty graduates and immediately begins making wise choices.

Mt. Elbert, CO's Tallest Mtn

A Scene Above Lake City, CO

Lake San Cristobal in San Juan Mtns

Continental Divide Trail - 12,100 ft

Crash Site After San Juan Solstice 50

The SJS field locates the proper route through the meadow.

Tough three mile SJS climb - 2nd of four climbs

Smiling Tina - SJS Champ!

SJS on the Divide Trail

Snowstorm on Sneffels

Climbing Handies Peak with Hardrock Champ Diana Finkel

SJS Descent Victim - Still Black!

Snowy Route up 14ers Sunshine and Red Cloud

Red Cloud

Z Bar Pressure Chamber at 14K Feet.

Sunshine Summit - 14,001 ft

Dakota Jones hits Ouray midway to 2nd place at Hardrock

Joe Grant, SJS champ, with Tony Krupicka at Ouray in Hardrock

Matt Hart is served a meal a Ouray

Julien Chorier is the first to kiss the Hardrock in 2011

Kendall Mtn Run above Silverton

Along UT128 near Moab

Kristy and I were ridin' the storm out in Utah

Arches NP

Kannah Creek Brewery - Amen

Always Majestic Mt. Elbert

Moonrise at Sunset

New friends Sergio and Robert finish SR50

PURDUE Football on family day.

Back home on sloppy USI trails

CCC Wall on the AT

Cairn art from my Cairns For Life Series

Smoky Mountain High

2011-12-31T23:33:00.022-06:00

The title for today's blog post is a respectful nod to my all-time favorite musician, songwriter, and poet, John Denver. He would have been sixty-eight today.

Over the last few days I have once again been fortunate enough to visit the Smoky Mountains. Without any travel partners, I had planned out several long run options that would allow me to travel many of the highest ridges of the park, including the one bearing the AT. Unfortunately, the storm that dropped heavy rain and short-lived giant snowflakes on a large region of the Midwest and east coast also hit the national park. Ice and snow caused wrecks and, in turn, road closings. A talk with a volunteer in the backcountry permit office created a new set of plans.

Starting at the Big Creek ranger station near the TN/NC boarder, I reached the AT via the Chestnut Branch trail. This often used trail gained 1800 ft in 1.9 miles. Once on the AT, I ran out as far as time and, coincidently, the cold wind permitted before returning. The apex of the run was just beyond the Tricorner Knob shelter.

The 2-6 inches of snow covering a layer of ice was expected. The 40-50 mph winds in the gaps and on the spine of 6621-ft Mt. Guyot were normal. Subfreezing temperatures were par for December on top of the Smokies. I carried a 15-lb pack with enough gear to protect me from all of this. The pack even carried a puffy - a down parka - and extra socks. Though I didn't expect to use the puffy, it came in handy while I was changing into the dry socks while sitting in the snow and getting lashed by brutal winds.

One-third of the pack weight was water and the purifier. I carried less water than I would have if I were backpacking and less than I would have in warmer conditions. Water from a trailside spring on Cosby Knob was used to refill a 1.5-L bladder, but only after I had inhaled a liter. Thanks to that spring and the puffy that insulated the water bladder from the cold, hydration was not an issue on this run.

Keeping my nutrition from freezing was a simple matter of keeping it inside my shirt. I have formulated a mixture of protein, carbohydrate, and salt which is concentrated in flasks. A bad experience resulted in some testing which taught me that this mixture solidifies to the point that most of it cannot be removed from the flask if it drops below 45F. The windy conditions on the spine of Mt. Guyot forced me to put on a jacket that was tied around my waist in order to prevent both the flasks - and me - from freezing.

That first run, which took 6:44 (6:32 without water collection/sock changes), covered 34 miles and involved 8400 ft of both ascent and descent. It was a blast. I was happy to find that my climbing legs were there after not completing any hill specific training since leaving CO in July. I was also happy to have a pair of Microspikes. They allowed me to descend much faster and safer than I would have thought possible. The many hikers I passed along the trail were amazed to see me hammering along. Again- it was a blast!

Running trails efficiently is not an easy task, especially when those trails are ruggedly vertical and littered with root/rock/ice obstacles. I have seen people run over such trails with such remarkable efficiency that their footfalls seem effortless while lacking impact or noise. My own stride is nowhere near this, but it is steadily improving with experience.

An elevation profile of the AT through GSMNP with my route in red.

It was near the Tricorner Knob that I encountered a bear. I paused and reached for my camera, but the bear snatched the camera. I ran. I ran right through the trail intersection and continued on for a short distance before I realized I had to return the way I came. I would just have to grab the camera back if the bear was still there. He was. As I approached he yelled "SMILE" and took this picture. He then handed me the camera as I ran by him. Thanks, Bear!

I told the guys from Nashville that I would claim a bear took this . . .

That run was difficult. It easily fell within the ten hardest physical/mental challenges I've ever attempted. This was largely due to the quantity of climbing and descending. The fact that my feet were soaked for almost four hours in sub-freezing temperatures added significant challenge. Those cold, wet feet caused me to continually increase my pace over the last ten miles. That strained pace made the effort feel more like the final miles of road marathon. At no time during the run did I feel in danger. Honestly, I was experiencing both the addictive adrenaline rush and the state of relaxation that outdoor endurance junkies like myself thrive on.

Upon reaching the RAV I immediately drank some organic chocolate milk and ate three of my homemade blueberry oatmeal scones. Then I drove to Asheville where I ate again. Not quite satiated and in a celebratory mood, I went to Jack of the Wood to enjoy the Bluegrass Jam. The previous evening I listened to the Ole Time Jam on the same stool while drinking the same Green Man Stout. Those talented musicians completed a fantastic day! I was lucky enough to sit next to Gabe both nights. He created a website devoted to Asheville area musicians called Simply Pickin.

On the second day I chose to climb Mt. Sterling (5820 ft) via Baxter Creek trail and continue along the Mt. Sterling Ridge trail. This marked the twentieth time that I have summited Mt. Sterling. I have long been drawn to Mt. Sterling because the old tower on the summit provides incredible views of Appalachian mountains. The summit campsite is also my favorite in the GSMNP. Bears like it, too!

Because the weather was warmer and because I expected my legs to give out before I reached that summit, I chose to go light. I carried only one handheld and two gels in a flask. Imagine my surprise when my ascent was less than two minutes over my best effort. This inspired me to run on over the summit and onto the ridge trail.

Mt. Sterling Ridge trail drops a little before climbing back to 5500 feet where it levels off for a few miles. I ran along the ridge enjoying the heavenly views until it ended at the Balsam Mountain trail junction. The descent of Mt. Sterling reminded me of the previous day's adventure - it hurt! That run was a little over 22 miles long and tallied just over 5000 feet of both elevation gain and loss.

After finishing that run I decided to attempt a short run without my orthotics. All previous attempts to ween myself off of those orthotics resulted in failure. Amazingly, I was able to run 3.8 miles on the AT, round trip from Davenport Gap to the junction with the Chestnut Branch trail (see profile above), without any issues. That 44-minute run was my longest run without orthotics dating back to 1986. And, because my quads were suffering, it was also my last run of the trip. I spent the rest of the day exploring and seeking historical knowledge of the region.

I should say that I was slowly exploring. My legs were stiff and sore. Imagine that. I had run 60 miles with more than 14,300 vertical feet of both ascending and descending within a 25-hour time period. (Who did I think I was - Dakota Jones??) It sure seems that experience would have prevented such a repeat of self-destruction. In reality, the effort, exposure, and views were exactly what I was hoping for.

It was while driving east on hard pack NC284 along the park boundary that I veered right at a fork in the road. Shortly thereafter I came to a locked gate where the road crossed back into the national park. I decided to walk along that closed section of road to further enjoy the clear and relatively warm day. That walk lasted about thirty minutes. Upon returning to the gate I encountered a strange scene.

A man stood between his big, late model pickup truck and the gate. He was screaming into a radio. The guy on the other end was screaming back. The man at the gate darted over to his open driver's door and then came toward me with a pistol in his hand. A BIG metallic pistol! I froze.

"They're always locking this gate," he said to me. "They know I'm tracking that bear."
"Where is it?"
"Right out there." He pointed the pistol toward the valley below the road. The same valley I had been admiring for the previous thirty minutes.
"Sow or boar?"
"Boar. A big boar. My dogs are on him right now and this gate is stopping me from getting to them."

This guy was moving frantically and still arguing with the guy on the radio while talking to me. He retrieved a shoulder holster from his truck and put it on. He put the gun, which he told me was a "boar-killin' 44," in the holster.

"You know I've got four ten thousand dollar dogs on that bear. I need to get through this gate!" he yelled at the man on the radio.

Forty thousand dollars worth of hunting dogs! Wow!

Sensing that I should not get involved in this incident, I wished him well before climbing into the RAV and driving away. What happened? I wish I knew. The hunter was demanding entry into the GSMNP to catch a bear that his expensive dogs were chasing. The person on the radio was not complying because hunting bears in national parks is a federal crime. The hunter was supposed to call his dogs off of the hunt when they crossed into the park. Maybe he was trying to do that. I don't know.

Before I left the Big Creek area I encountered three backpackers on the road.

"Are you the guy we saw running on the AT yesterday?"
"Yeah. We crossed paths on Cosby Knob."
"How far did you run?"
"Thirty-four miles."

They looked at each other and smiled.

"That's a week's worth of hiking. Why would you do that?"

Now I smiled.

"Because I got to see a week's worth of trail sights in less than seven hours."

I did not say that my back felt better than it ever did after long packing trips or that I had enjoyed great food and music before retreating to much better sleeping quarters than those they encountered in the mouse houses. I regret not admitting that, even though I have enjoyed every backpacking trip I've taken, I have come to love long runs in the mountains because that activity allows me to combine my love of running with my desire to experience the backcountry.

Here are some of the pictures I took along the trails during this short, therapeutic trip. Enjoy! (Click to enlarge.) ST

The view looking north from Mt. Cammerer on the AT

Much of the AT is a narrow trench

Gravesite at Davenport Gap

Chestnut Branch Trail

AT over Mt. Cammerer

Tightly bound rhododendron means cold air!

Notice the CCC-made stone wall at right.

Fraser fir skeleton

Spring used for my water supply

Walk this way . . .

Nearing Mt. Guyot

Fraser fir graveyard on Mt. Guyot

The ferns and lichens stand out on the AT near Davenport Gap

Davenport Gap shelter - one of a kind mouse house

TN 32 becomes NC 284 at Davenport Gap

There's always light at the end of a tunnel.

Long Miles for Short Legs

2011-12-20T19:57:00.004-06:00

This is the story of the first time my boys, Brandon and Tyler, traveled to the Great Smoky Mountain National Park in the Fall of 1994. They explored those mountains in a manner only possible because of their uninhibited youthfulness.

Campfire Frolicking

The four a.m. starting time served several purposes. It allowed us to miss rush hour traffic in Nashville. It meant that we would have a full day to set up camp and explore the campground. And it would allow the two little fellas in the back seat to sleep through most of the five-plus hour journey.

Though it was against my better judgement, the decision to stop for breakfast at McDs solved the "I'm hungry NOW" dilemma that startled me as I rounded the exit ramp from I-40. Brandon's "on" button had been pushed. From the rearview mirror I could see him rubbing his eyes with one hand and shaking Tyler with the other.

"Ty! Ty! Wake up, Ty! Tootykes, wake up!"
"Stop pinching me, Brandon."
"THIS is pinching."
"STOP!"
"Where are the Smokies, daddy?"
"Not far from here. We'll go there after we eat pancakes."
"PANCAKES! YEAH . . . I gotta pee."

We washed stacks of pancakes down with milk and orange juice. I tried to get them to eat the so-called sausage, but the finicky Tyler squeezed his lips together in refusal. I shrugged.

"That's OK. That sausage is mostly scraps that the chef swept up from behind the oven. These people are here to make money. They don't throw anything away."

"Yuck!"
"Gross!"
"Yeah, pancakes are the only things we should eat here at McDeath's."
"He said McDeath. Silly Daddy!" Brandon, as always, interpreted for Tyler.
"Silly Daddy," repeated Tyler.

Our campsite at Elkmont Campground was close enough to Little River that we could hear and feel the water splashing its way out of the mountains, but it was not at the stream's edge where I had to constantly play lifeguard. We set up the three person tent and laid out three piles of sleeping gear. Because the mid-October nighttime temperatures were expected to reach freezing and because Brandon was a migratory sleeper, I made certain that foam matting stretched wall to wall.

"Can we make a fire now?" Brandon, three and a half years old and nearly three feet tall, was pointing at the bundles of wood while standing in the fire pit.
"Crazy kid!" I snatched him up and turned him upside down to inspect his shoes and pant legs for damage.
"Hey, put me down!"
"Don't ever stand in there, buddy. There could be smoldering embers hidden in there."
"What's smoldering embers mean?"
"Super hot. Hot enough to melt your shoes and start you on fire."
"Start ME on fire?"
"Yes, so stay out of there."
"Don't go in there, Ty," Brandon said as he tugged at his little brother's hoodie.

Our first adventure was to take a hike up Little River Road. The road was asphalt for a third of a mile as it passed beyond the remnants of the old Elkmont village. Most of the houses were permanently empty and in advanced states of dilapidation. We looked into a few of them.

The boys climbed on a boulder lying beside one house. Tyler and I agreed with Brandon when he said that we needed a giant rock in our yard.

We walked beyond the village to where the road turned to gravel and began to closely follow the river. It seems that we were constantly stopping to climb on rocks or to throw stones into the stream. Tyler was doing his best to keep up with the Energizer Brandon. I served handfuls of cheerios, pieces of Powerbars, and sippy cups filled with orange juice.

We meandered back and forth from the river bank to the road until they separated a bit. Then we arrived at a point where the developed road ended at a gate. We sat down for a snack. Several cars were parked along the road here because this spot marked the Little River trailhead. I laid out a topo map and showed the boys where we were, where we had walked, and where our campsite was.

"We've gone a long way, guys."
"That's not far," Brandon said as he approximated the distance between his index finger and thumb.
"How do you feel, Ty?" The thought of carrying him on the return had crossed my mind more than once. We sat nearly two miles from the campsite.
"Good. Can we make s'mores?
"Smores? We'll make those after dark when the campfire is burning."
"Its hot!" Brandon said.
"Yep. Its hot," Tyler agreed. His eyes were opened wide while he nodded in a slow, exaggerated fashion.

The adventure continued until we reached the campsite in mid-afternoon because trail experiences depend on the direction of travel. Though Tyler never asked me to carry him, his obvious fatigue caused me to suggest that we lay down in the tent and listen to the river after lunch. Having filled their bellies with sandwiches, pretzels, and pop tarts, both boys were asleep within minutes. While they slept I thought about the morning and wrote in my journal.

That hike was full of enlightenment and reminiscence. All of the laughter and excitement indicated that Brandon and Tyler loved playing in the woods as much I did. Adulthood had caused me to forget about the boundlessness of youthful energy. Parenthood had allowed me to once again view the the natural world as only young children can. The world is a playground. I had also forgotten how relaxing and enjoyable skipping stones on water can be, especially when it is done with small children.

The three of us explored the campground that afternoon. We investigated boulders, faucets, empty campsites, and the restrooms.

"Where's the bathtub?" Brandon asked.
"Bathtub? There aren't any bathtubs here."
"Then where will be take a bath," asked Tyler.
"We won't."

And everyone smiled.

Campfire-grilled burgers and warm baked beans preceded the making of our s'mores. Then, because we were in bear country, I spent twenty minutes scrubbing the grease, sugar, and chocolate off of their faces and hands. And wishing there was a bathtub nearby.

The next morning we were awakened by several obnoxiously loud crows. Tyler was especially angry about this. He even got mad at me when I would not make them shut up. We followed another pancake breakfast with a drive to Cade's Cove on the west end of the park. Our hopes centered on seeing some of those famous Smoky Mountain bears while driving around the eleven mile auto loop.

We were in luck. Soon after touring the restored John Oliver Cabin we came upon a traffic jam. I was amazed by the number of people gawking and taking pictures near an enormous eastern Hemlock. A nervous sow paced back and forth at the base of the tree while constantly looking up and calling to her cubs. They were crying out from the smallest branches of the tree more than one hundred feet above the ground. I paused the car long enough to let the boys unbuckle and peer out of the window. As we drove away I could see the rooftop lights of an approaching park ranger.

We saw two more lone bears on that drive. We also stopped in the visitor's center at the back of the loop. I walked out of there with a history book and the boys each had brilliantly colored plastic salamanders like the ones found in the park's streams. Those salamanders turned out to be great hiking companions since they also liked to explore every stone, root, and fallen tree. We spent most of that second day in Cade's Cove. On our second pass of the loop, we hiked up to Abrams Falls where we threw stones into the pool beneath the massive falls. No skipping was allowed. The day was devoted to big, loud splashes. And big miles for short legs. The gently rolling round trip along Abrams Creek was about five miles.

This hike also gave us the hiking stick when we crossed paths with a man using one.

"I want one of those," Brandon said.
"Me, too," said Tyler.
"Well, then we should start looking for some sticks near the trail."

It took awhile, but all three of us discovered suitable staffs before returning to the trailhead. When we got there we found the stick used by the old man among a few others that were leaning against the signpost. I asked the boys to leave theirs, but quickly abandoned the ensuing argument. Our agreement was that we would leave the sticks at the campsite just before we left the mountains.

Our late afternoon return to Elkmont left us with just enough time to eat a quick meal of chili before the ranger talk. The ranger, Bob, had invited us to listen to him when he checked us in. Ranger Bob, a seasoned stage man, used a variety of voices when recounting the settlement and logging history of Elkmont. He kept everyone in the crowd, even Brandon, hanging on his words.

I read my new book, Last Train to Elkmont, prepared more pancake batter, and packed a backpack with hiking provisions while the boys slept in. We then spent our third day on top of the Smokies.

"Where are we going," asked Tyler as we left the campground.
"To the Appachin Trail," said Brandon.
"A-pal-a-chi-an Trail," I said.
"The AT"
"Yep. That's the one. Its a long way from here, so we'll drive to it."
"We get to hike the AT, Tytookes!"
"Well, part of it," I said.

I circled the big parking lot two times before lucking into a spot. Fall foliage was a bit past its prime at altitude, but crowds of people were still viewing the relaxingly brilliant colors along Newfound Gap Road. Each of us put on a second jacket and a hat before stepping into the cold wind at the 5000 foot high gap. We took them off within seconds and I stuffed them in the backpack. It was going to be a beautiful day on the Smokies

We made our way through the crowd to the AT. I wasn't sure how far we would go, but I had stocked the backpack with enough trail mix, Powerbars, water, and orange juice to last us for at least five miles. I snapped a photo of the boys standing near the perimeter wall. Then I asked a man to take a picture of us in front of the monument where FDR gave the speech to dedicate the Smokies as a national park in September of 1940. Then we began to hike the AT.

Why pose for pictures when we can be hiking?

I immediately began to worry about the boys, especially Tyler. Because he was about two weeks shy of his second birthday, I quickly surmised that his tiny legs were no match for the rugged AT. The trail climbed and climbed and climbed for the first two miles as it stretched over the 6100-ft summit of Mt. Ambler. The term "obstacle course" can be substituted for "trail" during this section since the path follows a ridge line covered with boulders and root entanglements.

Brandon performed acrobatic movements that caused my heart to stop and then to race. Combining the fact that he was using an abundance of energy with the fact that Tyler had to be lifted onto or over some impediments, I was certain our trip would be short lived.

I stopped the boys several times on the climb up Mt. Ambler to take in the views, to eat, to drink, and, of course, to rest. At one point we even sat in the grass and pretended to have a picnic. Brandon dubbed it a snacknic.

Before we left the snacknic sight I looked Ty in the eye while I asked them if they wanted to go back to car or hike more of the AT. Both boys voted enthusiastically in favor of more hiking.

Shortly after that the trail began to drop and I could see a steep watershed to the left which I knew was below a rugged rocky knob known as Charlie's Bunion. I couldn't believe it, so I stopped and check the map again. We had traveled about 2.5 miles and the Bunion stood another 1.6 miles ahead and 700 feet below us. There was no way I could carry those two most of four miles, let alone up mountain on that rugged trail. I decided that we would turn around after a snacknic at the junction with the Boulevard Trail.

"I don't know about you two, but my stomach is starting to growl."
"You just ate a PBJ, silly," said Brandon.
"Yeah, silly Daddy."
"Listen to it. I think it is asking for pizza."

I stooped down and they drew near.
"I don't hear it."
"Me too."
"Oh, I think it wants pizza."

I bent over and "listened" to their bellies.
"All the bellies want pizza," I declared. "Let's go back to town and get a big one."
"And bread sticks?"
"And bread sticks."

Amazingly, I was never asked to carry anyone on the journey back to Newfound Gap. I did offer to carry Tyler, but he refused because he wanted to do everything Brandon did. When fatigue overwhelmed him, Ty simply plopped his little butt down on a rock, root, log, or the trail and asked for his sippy cup. We ended up going through a whole quart of orange juice and nearly ninety-six ounces of water during our 5.8-mile 4-hour adventure. And Ty likely had more than his fair share on the cool and breezy day.
The Pizza Hut pizza was a big hit, but the ice cream, fudge, and taffy sealed the deal. I had always despised Gatlinburg, which I referred to as "Glitzburg," but it made quite an impression on the boys. After the sun set we retrieved heavier coats and hats from the car so we could ride a ski lift. Throughout the ride I clenched my teeth and clutched their collars as they leaned over to look below us.

We slept well that last night. I awoke early on the fourth day to make the pancake batter. I also made a small fire because the temperature was below freezing. Tyler demanded pop tarts with his pancakes, so I dug two out of the food container and warmed them over the fire.

"I don't want grilled pop tarts," Tyler said.
"I am "toasting" them in this backwoods toaster."
"You're making them black."
"Yuck."

I wiped the soot off with off a towel and not one complaint was uttered as both pop tarts disappeared in a matter of seconds. That left me responsible for most of the cinnamon buckwheat pancakes, but I wasn't heard complaining either.

After breakfast we froze, amazed into silence, when an enormous pileated woodpecker landed on a tree in the campsite. It had a black body, a white neck and breast, and a tall, brilliant red crest. And it seemed to defy gravity. Despite the fact that it stood at least ten inches tall, the bird clutched the side of a hemlock and pecked away. The three of us smiled at each other and stared at that bird for several minutes before it flew away.

"That chicken was standing on the tree," said Tyler.
"It was a rooster, and it was eating the bark," added Brandon.
"That was a pileated woodpecker."
"A woodpecker?" asked Tyler with a wrinkled nose.
"Yes, a woodpecker. And it was awesome." Everyone agreed on that point.

Only after we drove out of Elkmont did I remember the walking sticks. They were leaning on a tree in the campsite. The boys did not remember them until we saw some later that afternoon at the Apple Valley Farm store in Townsend. It took awhile for Brandon to realize that I was not going to retrieve them.

A short drive up Cove Mountain took us to the Laurel Falls trailhead. We enjoyed our walk despite the fact that the asphalt trail was crowded due to its easy access and sure footing. The boys took turns riding on my shoulders, and honking, as we zigzagged our way through the foot traffic during that four mile hike.

Our last hike was a leisurely one mile walk along the Middle Prong Little River. We took advantage of this last opportunity to skip and splash stones. Along the way we named all of the animals we had seen on the trip. That list included: six bears, a flock of birds, lots of squirrels, a skunk, three rabbits, lots of deer, a snake, several chipmunks, some noisy crows, and that woodpecker.

The drive home was a quiet one. Both boys passed out a few minutes after we reached the interstate. I worried that they were in diabetic comas due to the sugar intake at Apple Valley Farms. They were likely sleeping the deep sleep of happy hikers.

Epilogue - The three of us returned to those mountains to hike, camp, and backpack many times over the years. On several occasions, while they were still quite young, both boys asked me "Can we hike in the Smokies today." They stopped asking that question after Brandon made sure they were both awake for an entire drive.

Training Update - The Reload

2011-12-16T15:23:00.002-06:00

It has been more than a month since the IMM. Since then I have jumped into a couple of 5Ks without really being prepared for them. Because I love racing so much, they were both fun experiences, but I had an epiphany about halfway through the second one. I'm done. My legs and mind need to be rested.

An intense marathon training program came on the heels of a summer filled with sweat fest long runs in Indiana, sporadic hard efforts on the bike, and two fifty mile mountain races. Relatively speaking, those 5K were tiny efforts, but they were long enough to let me know the flame had gone out.

So, I am now in a reloading period. Though the training lacks the structure required for achieving a goal, it is still purposeful. I am enjoying running for what it provides me. I value sunrise runs through forests. I really love running when it is cold. And I love to sometimes run fast simply because I the energy and excitement are there.

I am also making an effort to put cycling back into my regimen after hardly training for almost eighteen months. The rides are short, but they are happening and they are enjoyable. I am still trying to pinpoint why I love cycling so much.

The only real structure to my training for the month of December is that I have decided on new test courses for my training. These courses are important facets of the overall plan, because they allow me to monitor my progress, by tracking my heart rate with the Polar RCX5, as I work through race specific programs and, well, age. I decided to change the courses for 2012 in order for them to more accurately reflect my goals.

Goals . . . Yes, it is that time of the year, isn't it. I've started mapping out a plan for racing next year that will help me attain the only real goal I have - stay actively healthy!! The racing includes duathlons because they cause me to train at both running and cycling. I will also be running some half marathons next year since I seem to have picked up an addiction to them in recent years. And, as a focal point again next year, I will run in some ultra events. Which events will I enter? I don't yet know. I came up empty in the Western States lottery. In the coming month there are openings for other ultra race registrations. After those occur I will decide on an overall schedule that is sure to keep me well rounded.

The annual winter trip to the southern Appalachians is less than two weeks away. That trip is always a blast.

As for blogging, the reworked piece about the first time my sons accompanied me to the Smokies will be up this weekend. I had hoped to post it by now, but this week has been full of 13-16 hour work days due to wrapping up the semester. ST

Getting High in the Smokies

2011-12-08T21:30:00.013-06:00

As I promised a couple of weeks ago, I am posting the first of several reworked travel essays that I transcribed years ago. This one is a description of a solo trip I took to explore the Great Smoky Mountain National Park back in 1990. I was, at that time, feverish with such exploration. I visited the park several times each year with my sons, with friends, and alone. I had the single-minded goal of walking every one of the 800-plus miles of trails in the park. This trip took place during the autumn of 1990. It was a dandy! With hindsight, it was also a crystal ball experience.

Walking among dead Fraser Firs above the clouds

After a restless three hour sleep in my Celica at Cosby Campground, I lace my boots and strap on an old external frame backpack before finding my way through the predawn darkness to the Low Gap trailhead. I do not intend to stay in the back country during this outing. The backpack is for peace of mind. It contains food, water, a water filter, a rain suit, a first aid kit, and a light sleeping bag. Those items will get me through the night if things do not go as planned. I do not want a repeat of my last trip when a roll of my "trick" ankle caused me to hobble-hike for hours after dark.

Day one of this four day exploration of the eastern half of the Smokies involves a simple out and back route from Cosby Campground to some point on the Appalachian Trail. With an average altitude of more than five thousand feet, the AT through the eastern half of the Smokies is the highest sustained section of the 2180-mile National Scenic Trail. My plan is to walk about half of the available daylight hours and then turn around. That is the plan, anyway.

Low Gap trail climbs 2600 feet in 2.5 miles as it rises in parabolic fashion to meet the AT. It is at once rugged and peaceful. The trail meanders though the once clear cut Cosby valley before it climbs steeply to the ridge line at Low Gap. Along the way I pass sites where I have gone off trail in search of partial whiskey stills, rusted car remains, and old growth forests. These mountains are filled with odd mixtures of nature and man.

It takes me forty five minutes to reach Low Gap (4250 ft). From there I begin to briskly hike and sometimes jog as I climb over Cosby Knob. I pause for a few minutes to check out the primitive three-walled stone structure. I am happy that I haven't planned a stay in any of these mouse houses on this trip.

The AT climbs over Cosby Knob (5100 ft) before dropping to Camel Gap (4700 ft). From there it climbs almost incessantly for five miles, reaching about 6300 feet as it skirts the summits of two of the highest Appalachian peaks, Old Black (6370 ft) and Mt. Guyot (6621 ft). Mt. Guyot was named after the man who first surveyed much of the Smoky Mountains region in 1859.

The views from this high section of the AT are stunning - or so I am told. I am, on this blustery day, walking through fast moving clouds. I can only see a few feet in any direction. It is eerie and it is wet. I am, in fact, drenched as if I am under a hose. Water drips from my hands, my nose, and the brim of my hat. The temperature is climbing through the thirties. Those "waterproof" boots have failed after only a few hours of being water painted by low lying flora. My poncho-turned-kite is probably still airborne above North Carolina. I might as well be in heaven.

After nearly three hours and eleven miles on the trail I find myself at the Tricorner Knob shelter. Time for breakfast. There are two hikers preparing to leave the shelter with extremely voluminous and, judging from the efforts required to shoulder them, heavy backpacks. I say "Good Morning" and they both nod. They seem way too serious. I wonder if the physical and mental burdens of bearing such heavy loads has put the two men in survival mode. At this point, I decide that my twenty pound backpack is not the beast I want to believe it is. I apologize to it as I cook some oatmeal, but I smile since the meal is reducing the load. I don't know it yet, but those two hikers will be the only humans I see in the backcountry for four days.

The next five miles of the AT roll up and down at an elevation of about 6000 feet while passing near the summits of Mt. Chapman (6417 ft) and Mt. Sequoyah (5945 ft). Mt. Sequoyah is named after the Cherokee who created the written form of the nation's language.

Though I see very few of them through the dense, fast-moving clouds, I can always smell the sweet red spruce trees along this high ridge. Occasionally, I also detect the aroma of Christmas, the Fraser fir tree. There aren't many Frasers left in these mountains, because the non-native balsam woolly adelgids are killing them. They are still growing from old seeds, but they are also dying before they can produce new seeds. Piles of fir corpses sometimes line the trail. These saplings are the last of their kind. I take off my right glove and let the ends of branches gently pass through my grasp as I walk in order to feel the difference between the soft spruce and edgy fir needles.

Having read about short, unmarked, and seldom used summit trails for both Chapman and Sequoyah, I venture off of the AT through the rigid and gnarly rhododendron at least a dozen times trying to reach the summits. There is a satisfaction that comes with reaching a highest spot, even if there is nothing to see except speeding clouds.

When I reach the Hughes Ridge trail junction after almost five hours of hiking I weigh my options. I am more than sixteen miles from the rest of my gear at Cosby Campground. I also have about five hours of daylight left. My feet are sore, so I sit down and take off my boots to rub my arches and examine the hot spots. For the first time in my life, I apply duct tape patches to my body. Then I enjoy some homemade trail mix before setting off again.

I am wagering that I can jog for another thirty minutes out and still make it back before sundown by mixing jogging with walking. At thirty minutes I realize how close I am to the summit of Laurel Top (5907 ft). The debate over summiting doesn't even break my stride. My reward? One more summit view of fast moving clouds.

The math is easy. I have used five hours and fifty minutes out of ten hours and five minutes of daylight, so my return trip must be ninety five minutes faster than my outbound leg. No problem. Its not like my feet and ankles are blistered or my inner thighs are raw or my quads are decimated. Fifteen miles of weekly running on mostly flat roads has prepared me for this - right?

The cumulative effect of the clouds encasing me and the intense pain in my legs produces a fog in my mind that allows the miles and time to pass quickly. Constantly aware of the impending sunset, I run most of the return trip. I catch my toe on an embedded stone as I reach the junction with the Snake Den Ridge trail at Inadu Knob. Luckily, I am able to stop my fall by grabbing the signpost.

Taking Snake Den Ridge trail back to Cosby reduces the return trip by a little over two miles. That gives me thirty five miles and 7400 vertical feet of ascending for the day. I beat sundown by fifty minutes. This is by far the greatest distance I have traveled on foot in a single day, easily surpassing the marathons I had run when I was 15 and 16. I am exhausted. My feet and hands are swollen. My quads and back hurt so badly that I am certain they are broken. I cook and eat two camp meals while soaking my legs in the icy water of Cosby Creek. I also plan the next day's hike.

I walk/run eighty nine more miles over the next three days, giving me a four day total of 124 miles with more than 24,000 feet of ascending and descending. Though my body is thoroughly broken down and nearly incapacitated when I leave the Smokies, my mind is completely recharged with a new kind of energy. This is an addictive experience. I am convinced that there are many more days like these in my future.

Little Pigeon River

Note: I am in the process of gathering, scanning, and uploading pictures from this time period. I will post some them as soon as possible. The next story I will retell involves sippy cups, cheerios, and, of course, the AT.

Still Loving It!

2011-11-25T12:51:00.004-06:00

Shortly after finishing the Turkey Run 5K yesterday I posted a status update on Facebook about the event. Of course I mentioned the fact that I enjoyed seeing dozens of friends among the 1500 people participating in the area's second largest race. Without a doubt, the holiday of thanks creates a festive mood that makes those encounters with friends a little more meaningful. That is why this 5K will always be among my favorite events to participate in.

I also stated that yesterday's race made this the 32nd year of running sub-17 minute 5Ks. It wasn't bragging about running ability. I am attentive enough to know that a sub-17 5K is a mark that many runners never reach, but I am also wise enough to know that a large number (1000s?) of runners, from high schoolers to collegiates to masters, run faster every year. The world road record for 5K is 13 minutes! A 17-minute runner would have more than a K to run at 13 minutes!! Even my 15:18 personal record, set decades ago, would leave me a half-mile behind the world record runner.

No, that post was not an attempt to brag about running ability. A mantra I've long used to describe myself is that "I am a has-been that never was." I loathe bragging from myself more than I do from others. A sub-17 5K is a difficult enough challenge for my limited abilities that I consider it a notable achievement and desirable goal, especially at my age.

That status update was meant to be a statement about the benefits of living a healthy lifestyle. It was an acknowledgement of a decades long love affair with running. The post was a reminder to anyone reading it that middle age does not guarantee low quality of life. It was meant to be a challenge and an inspiration to the people reading this blog to eat wisely and live active lives.

I encourage people daily to exercise moderately while eating a variety of healthy foods. It really isn't that difficult, but it requires a deviation from the typical American lifestyle. There are many places to look and and a variety of people to talk to when seeking information about healthy living. For the last two years I have been telling people about the Blue Zones, a book by Dan Buettner that reveals how several groups of people around the world live to be active and productive centenarians. Check it out! It would make a great Christmas gift!

No one has a guarantee for a long and healthy life, but many people construct lives that almost guarantee a hasty depreciation of life's quality after the onset of adulthood. In fact, it is well-documented that our current cultural habits are creating extremely unhealthy children. Quality of life does not hinge on an ability to run a sub-17 5k, but living an active and healthy lifestyle will enhance the ability to maintain the ability to do all of the things that we enjoy for most of our lives. I love to run and bike and hike and climb and garden and rake leaves and . . .

Do you have your own sub-17 type of measuring stick?

Looking Toward Winter

2011-11-21T15:26:00.004-06:00

Its been a little over two weeks since I ran the IMM. In that time I have logged thirty three miles of solid running. That means that my running life has returned to normal.

In fact, it has been normal since I took an exploratory three mile run on the Thursday following the race. That, of course, is wanted and unwanted. I was relieved to have relatively strong and fully functioning legs a few days after a road marathon. Yet, the healthy legs only confirmed my belief that the sciatica had kept me from pushing the pace in the closing miles. That Polar heart rate computer does not lie! I was on cruise control when I should have been in a steadfast pursuit of pain.

Since that day I have continued with the T-TH-S training pattern that I have followed since 1990. Whether I was on a short 3 miler or a "long" 8 miler the miles have come as easily as expected them to when running relaxed, low HR runs. After months of logging double digit long runs, I had to smile as I typed that 8.

Sadly, however, there is little doubt that each of those long runs would be truly long and epic if a more expansive trail system were close by. Throw in some mountainous terrain and I would be a full-fledged ultra runner with a severe Ricky Bobby complex on the bike. Sigh.

As of now, I have only one race planned in the foreseeable future. That would be a return to Lynchburg, TN for the Oak Barrel Half Marathon on April 7th. The 2010 trip was a lot of fun, despite the fact that I was suffering with the year's first round of sciatica at the time. I feel like I owe it to myself to challenge Whiskey Hill when I am 100%. Of course, provided that I convince Jeremy to return with me, I'll need to be at the top of my game to keep up with him. Maybe I can convince him to slip a little of that JD into his pre-race bottle.

The sciatica is not completely gone. Although the piriformis has finally relaxed, the tightness in the hamstring is constantly noticeable. For those of you who haven't experienced this issue, think of the coughing that goes on for days after the sinus infection has subsided. I'm on the mend.

Without racing trips planned I am eying the Appalachians once again for the "traditional" winter outing. That trip has ranged from warm and sunny day hikes, rides, and runs in and around the Great Smoky Mtn NP to long backpacking trips to camping with my boys. I would love to get in some winter camping, but the boys have not been interested in recent years. That might have something to do with the "no gaming" rule.

Honestly, I won't know what I am doing until a few days before it happens because I always let the weather contribute to my final decision. High on my list of desires are a couple of long runs over loops that many backpackers use for 3-4 day trips. It will be interesting to see what Mother Nature has in store for me.

As far as this blog goes, well, it is the external view of my active lifestyle, right? It is, I believe, a natural progression of my long time habit of writing about my adventures. That writing began in the early 1990s when I jotted thoughts into tiny notebooks as I walked on trails, sat on boulders in rivers, or stretched out on grassy balds, or hunkered down in tents. The notes later progressed into essays that I typed into computers. Some of those essays were lost, but many of them are tucked away in one form or another.

I intend to start posting some of those essays in the near future. I've had some awesome, scary, hilarious, painful, and lucky experiences over the years. It will be fun for me and, I hope, for my friends and family to rehash those old adventures. You should find them interesting and entertaining.

Also, the Polar Ambassador Package will be awaiting me when I get home. I am excited about this! More on that in the near future!

Birthday Reflections

2011-11-11T17:36:00.005-06:00

While creating this blog I wrote down a set of rules for myself. One of those rules does not allow me to discuss my personal life. So, this post is worded carefully, but honestly.

I don't know about you, but I tend to review, weigh, measure, and refocus my life with the passing of each birthday. I've been at this for a long time. This, of course, implies that I am growing old.

Those who know me well understand that though I have collected four dozen years, I have steadfastly refused to age in the normal sense. There is, admittedly, a relatively high level of vanity required to maintain a youthful mind and body upon reaching "middle age," but I believe that there are also requirements of acknowledged, hard-earned self-preservation and relentless pursuit of a inner peace.

For a youthful body, I have chosen a pathway laced with healthy eating, moderate exercise, and a constantly engaged mind. Two decades of nutritional research have taught me to eat a variety of foods in moderation while avoiding only a few, so I have little stress when it comes to food decisions. My exercise habits are, of course, the focus of this blog. I train less than most people to limit wear and tear, while employing science and keen self-knowledge to gauge my efforts and satisfy my competitive tendencies.

I read and write constantly to stimulate my mind. I read textbooks, biographies, history books, research papers, nutrition books, blogs, news, and student works. I even assign a monthly assignment for all of my students that requires them to summarize a scientific article so that they can practice concise writing while allowing me to be "well read." I write exams (!), blog posts, short stories, essays, and I have have even completed a novel. It is worth noting that the story telling has crept into the classroom in many forms, including physics exams that are short stories about a pirate named Ohm.

And that brings me to my last thought on aging. I love to laugh. I create reasons to laugh. I laugh at jokes, at success, at failure, at pranks, at youthful naivety, and, most often, at myself. That last one is important. I am a perfectionist and a very intense person (or so I've been told . . .) which used to be a drag on me and everyone around me. Then I "grew up" enough to feel comfortable with my shortcomings. It is easy to develop a sense of one's limits when you are reminded of them every day through brutally honest interactions with teenagers. I've learned a lot from my students!

I learn from wise old men, too. Just last night I was hanging out with Gene, who is 99 years old. He is an incredibly inspiring person who will surprise you with his wit, cause you to self-reflect with his keen memory, bring you to tears with laughter, and humble you with his extensive knowledge. Then he will do a little jig and blow your mind! Last night he did all of that and then brought me to tears as he gently kissed his ailing wife, Bea, three times before leaving her assisted care room. I've only got fifty one years to seek his level of life work!

To close I would like to say that I actively seek inspiration to live a purposeful life, to be a contributing member of society. Born into poverty and with average mental and physical abilities, I have always battled to be anything but mediocre. I find my inspiration in family, friends, students, competitors, the news, and in nature. The way I see it, I've got a lot to live for, a lot to be thankful for, a lot of love to give, and good reasons to seek my potential in all aspects of my life.

And, in part, I created this blog to inspire its readers to do explore their themselves, their communities, and the natural world around them. ST

Monumental Marathon Race Report

2011-11-06T17:27:00.009-06:00

Followers of this blog know that I lined up for the IMM with hopes of finishing in about 2:50. At registration I typed 2:49:59 as my predicted finish time. After dinner the evening before the race I told my road trip mates, Jeremy and Nick, to go to lunch when the clock hit 2:50, stay and throw things at me, or berate me after lunch.

Well, it was close, but I reached the finish line in 2:49:33. This is a result that I am really excited about because it came in the midst of my longest battle with sciatic pinch in years. Furthermore, the time was a lifetime PR achieved just days before my 48th birthday.

Jeremy, Nick, and I were lucky enough to stay in a hotel just a couple of blocks from the start line. The room was great, but the soft bed only worsened the pain in my back and right leg that had developed during the drive north. I don't believe that I ever fell asleep. It was a little after six in the morning when I began to stretch and rub my leg, back, and piriformis.

We jogged into the a stiff, near freezing wind to reach that start line in the predawn darkness. In a scene that was completely against my "last minute" nature, I found myself hopping and shivering and swearing a ridiculous twenty minutes before the start of the race. This was a result of finding myself behind at least one thousand people last year when I could not shimmy my way through the crowd fast enough.

Jeremy and Nick, competing in the half marathon, quickly disappeared in the mobile mob soon after the start. It took only a couple of turns and less than a mile for me to find myself running smoothly in my own space. I fell into a large group that reached the first three mile markers in 6:18, 12:30, and 18:34. It was during that 6:04 third mile that I felt my hamstring twinge for the first time. Though the pace came easily and though I wanted to stay with that group, I yielded to the pull of the hamstring.

The next eighteen miles were a rare roller coaster ride for me. The course was exceptionally flat, but my pace was not. One or two miles 6:0x miles were followed by one or two at 6:2x. I stayed within my fitness, even during the faster miles, but the pace was controlled by the bitchy hamstring. When it was fine I was fast, but when it whined I slowed.

Somewhere around the nine mile mark that I realized what was going on. Whenever the course dictated that I run on the right side of a crowned road the hamstring would strain and tighten. I slowed because I didn't want to injure it. My dealings with the issue in the past have taught me that I can run through the sciatica without worsening the back condition, but only if I didn't damage the resulting tight hamstring. So, I ran as fast as the muscle would allow me.

I sweated little while running in gloves, a cap, an Ultimate Fit race kit over an Under Armour t-shirt, and Scott T2's. Still, I snagged cups of water at 12 aid stations. I also consumed one GU Espresso Love a minute before the start and four others I had stored in my gloves at thirty minute intervals. The cool temperatures definitely aided a fast time for this heavy sweater.

The headwind in the closing miles was not as kind. Combine that wind with the fact that the hamstring remained tight throughout the last five miles and you have a recipe for slower running. I reached 21 miles in 2:13:40, but slowed to a training pace of almost 6:50 for the remaining five miles. Maintaining that 6:25 average pace would have brought me home in about 2:47.

My legs never reached that lethargic, heavy feeling that accompanies a bonk. Stiffness in my lower back and hamstring slowed me by shortening my stride length. In fact, I felt relatively fine. I actually smiled when I compared my condition to what I had experienced in CO during the summer 50-mile mountain races. A discouraging moment occurred, though, in the 20th mile when Superman was passed by Spiderman.

Throughout the closing miles I weaved back and forth between hundreds of walkers finishing the half marathon and six hobbling or stopped marathoners. Three of those marathoners had passed me during the fourteenth mile - which I covered in 6:08.

Jeremy and Nick were waiting four blocks from the rectangular finish where they could take a shortcut to the finish. I gave them a thumbs up after glancing at my watch. Nick had set a PR in the half marathon while Jeremy, though he had beaten Nick, had come up less than a minute shy of his mark set last month at the Evansville half. I would be lying if I tried to deny the fact that Nick and I created many opportunities to remind Jeremy of his "lackluster, embarrassing, and hairless performance" for the remainder of the day. "Walk behind us . . . sit over there . . ." And there may have been references to the color and fortitude of testicles . . .

A long chat with good friend, Laura, in the hotel lobby gave us a chance to size up four Kenyan runners who had dominated the day. Those tiny racing machines lacked even an ounce of excess matter to slow them down. And they were humble and polite.

We picked up my pint glass trophy and gift certificate for an AG win before enjoying a leisurely lunch at the Ram Brewery. The drive home through the remaining fall colors while engaged in laughter inducing conversation served as a fitting end to the road trip. Even Jeremy's brother, living in northern IN, got in on the action by texting about the two-out-of-three PRs. I would travel with those two anytime! I could not find more wholesome people to experience life with.

After reviewing the data from my Polar RCX5, I know that my average heart rate of 162 was significantly lower than normal. In fact, it was lower than my average HR during the first half (four hours) of my Silver Rush 50 effort during July. So, despite the fact that I declared I would stop running road marathons if I ever broke 2:50, I now know that a sub-2:45 is within the grasp of my sub-30 miles per week training. And that seems like a suitable challenge. Besides that, a 2:49 is still well out of line with the rest of my PRs from shorter race distances (McMillan predicts 2:29), so I would like to see how much more I can lower the time using my low mileage training formula.

For now, though, I rest - and think of ways to convince Jeremy and Nick to run the Leadville Marathon and the full IMM with me next year.

LATE EDIT: CONGRATS TO DAKOTA JONES FOR SETTING THE GRAND CANYON R2R2R RECORD ON 11/5 WITH AN INCREDIBLE TIME OF 6:53:38. DAKOTA IS AN INCREDIBLY NICE GUY AND SUPER ATHLETE.

Work Done and Polar

2011-10-25T20:39:00.006-05:00

This morning, just before and after sunrise, I completed my last pre-marathon workout. The long runs are also behind me now. I would not go as far as to say that I am in a taper, because a 28-mile-per-week program does not need - cannot afford - to be reduced. I am officially resting though. The work is done.

As I indicated in previous posts, the training I am referring to did not go according to the plan. Such is life. I am not surprised by the divergence nearly as much as I am amazed by the fact that I actually made it to this point. Never before have I encountered so many obstacles while in a race build up. The job, with the extra duties like the freebie class, meetings, coaching, and writing letters of recommendation, presented new detours each week. My back coerced my right piriformis and hamstring into hobbling me for an annoyingly consistent and prolonged time period. That, in turn, caused a series of related aches and pains in my hips and knees. And my vision seemed to deteriorate. I am not sure how that last one worked against the plan but I am convinced it was part of the full-body conspiracy. Damned aging, anyway . . .

So, I've got ten days to back off in a manner that will give my body time to reach an equilibrium that will favor a solid marathon performance. My reliable and undeniable ability to make questionable decisions led me to go ahead and enter the full marathon. Actually, I have three more days to "downgrade" my entry to the half, but I do not intend to do so. Instead, I will pour my energies into doing all of the little things that might add up to a positive performance in Indy: stretching, heating, standing(!), massaging, and, of course, easing up on the throttle a bit.

Review of my log indicates that I have averaged 28.3 mpw for nine weeks. This is an interesting number - to me. The plan called for me to follow my ultra program for long runs, but the back rejected that notion. That would have resulted in an astounding 33 mpw average! Runs longer than 13 miles during the build-up can be counted on one hand, with the longest being a tad under 20 miles.

I must reveal that the 28.3 mpw gives me a jolt of confidence, though, because the most I have ever averaged while training for a marathon is 26 mpw. The result? A 2:52 effort at the Huntsville, Alabama Rocket City Marathon in Dec. 2009. (I have a knack for running 2:51-53 at the RCM.)

A more thorough analysis reveals that I also ran 53 miles at a sub-6:15 pace during that nine week period. That, folks, is solid and significant for a 28 mpw program! The piriformis/ham/disc gang only cost me one day of pace work.

What can I run after this build-up? That is any one's guess, really. There is simply no margin for error with such a low mileage plan. A fast half marathon is certainly within my grasp, but I feel this primal urge to suffer. If all goes well, I will run low-2:50 or just under 6:30 per mile. I would like to go faster, but the dice have been tossed. I am not complaining. In fact, I am elated about being healthy enough to run a marathon.

It is the pain that accompanies road marathons off of low mileage that I must avoid thinking about for ten days. Then, on November 5th, I will do as I always do in marathons. I will run my pace until the wheels come off. At that point I will keep moving in a Quasimodo fashion until I reach the finish line. Luckily, Jeremy has agreed to drag me to the cheeseless pizza and beer. Hehehe . . .

On another more sane note, I have recently become an Official Polar Ambassador. I will continue to tout the benefits of using Polar HRMs. Anyone who has seen me race or train over the last two decades has seen that familiar black strap around my torso. And those who have listened to me speak about my training philosophies have heard me talk of intensities, paces, and economies in terms of heart rate. Many people have then gone out and purchased their own heart rate computers. I will continue to provide information about training and racing with HRMs. The primary difference, I guess, is that the people of Polar are now aware of my long-standing ambassadorship.

YMCA Half Marathon Report

2011-10-12T14:42:00.003-05:00

Jeremy and I at seven miles

Because this event took place four weeks before my planned goal race weekend, I decided long ago to run the area's largest event (aside from the Race for the Cure) at a moderate pace in order to use it as training for the future. In fact, this is the fourth year in a row for me to run our local race in this manner. It is not that I consider the Y-Half to be less important. I am simply trying to run a variety of races and distances in locations other than my home town.

With the temperature in the low-50's, still air, and clear skies, it was a near perfect morning for a half marathon. I lined up that morning with about two-thousand other people on a hill overlooking the Ohio River knowing that hamstring tightness resulting from the piriformis pinch might cause me to stop. The hamstring had been tight when I ran the day before, but I had worked it loose before I went to bed.

The original plan called for me to run the half at about 6:05 pace, but I decided to run it with friends, including Jeremy, and we settled on a 6:20 pace. After we climbed over the only big hill on the course and reached mile three at 6:06 pace the plan began to change. We were very consistent, reaching each mile thereafter in just over six minutes. despite a couple of course layout discrepancies that I was aware of because I measured the new course.

As the mile markers passed we each agreed that we were comfortable. Each passing mile also took us closer to the front of the field as we held our pace while others slowed, some a significant 15-20 seconds per mile.

We reached twelve miles in just under 73 minutes. I knew then that we would finish in lest than 80 minutes. It was while we were running on the Greenway next to the museum midway through mile thirteen that we picked up the pace a little. That 5:57 last mile gave me a 1:19:39 finishing time. Jeremy, sly enough to be a couple of rows behind me at the start, was a second faster in the end. His even-paced run allowed him to smash his PR.

My post-event analysis gave me a boost in confidence. The steady effort allowed my heart rate to remain below my tempo zone for about seven miles. The final average HR of 165 (85%) was less than what I have averaged for entire marathons and less than what I averaged for the first two hours of the Silver Rush 50 back in July. I am excited about the fact that this HR occurred while I averaged 6:05 per mile because it indicates that my running economy quite high.

Now I must rid myself of this sciatic pinch so that I can fully enjoy this fitness in Indy next month and in the mountains soon after that.

Muncie Powerman Race Report

2011-10-03T21:57:00.008-05:00

This is what happens when that carefully made training plan is anything but reality. I entered this race at the last minute for several reasons, but the one I'll discuss in this post is that I needed to get in some pace work.

A couple of months ago I outlined a training plan that would prepare me for the Indy Monumental Half/Full Marathon weekend of November 5th. Unfortunately, I have dealt with another bout of sciatic pinch for the last month. This is my second prolonged sciatic problem this year, so I am fully weary of the pain and tightness that comes with it. Just last spring the sciatic pinch added significant time to two half marathons. I have dealt with back problems since an accident in 1998, but I rarely experience more than one serious bout in a year. Interestingly enough, the pain almost always comes after I sit too much. Sitting is BAD!

Last Monday morning before the sun came up I completed a hilly 19-mile run at 7 minute pace. This run, the longest since the Silver Rush 50 in July, was fun and it came far too easily. When I finished it, however, I knew that I would run my pace work on Thursday or Friday. Old runners learn to project the soreness of a good run onto a week - or at least several days.

On Tuesday I sat at a computer too long and the sciatic pinch tapped the nerve beyond my sore arse (piriformis), through my tightened hamstring, and all the way down to my quivering foot. What followed was the normal protocol of stretching and strengthening maneuvers I use to reduce the pinch and pain.

Wednesday's run went well, with only a slight tightness in the hamstring. More importantly, the restricted muscle did not tighten up after the run. This meant that I did not strain it while running. By Wednesday evening I decided to go ahead and take a couple of days off of running while concentrating on healing the back. Sometime before bed I came across the Muncie Powerman website and decided that I would use it to get my pace work in for the week. The 15K of running would suffice, but only if I could limit my effort on the bike enough to run the last 5K at the right pace.

When I lined up for the race just before 10 am last Saturday, I felt zero pain in my back and my hamstring seemed to as flexible as normal. This is important to note, because I had already decided that I would not race, despite 9 hours of driving to and from the race, if I felt any pain or tightness before the race.

So, along with several hundred other athletes entered in the six different multisport events going on that morning, I launched myself onto the course under ominous skies and in unseasonably frigid air. At race time it was 39 degrees and the wind was blowing 20-30 mph.

I wore my Purdue Tri Suit, but finished the winter ensemble with gloves, a long sleeve tech shirt, tights, and training shoes. After briefly considering the removal of the tights, a glance up at the black skies convinced me to leave them on.

In perfect harmony with the spirit of Powerman Duathlons, the cold weather was accompanied by a tough course. Tough because it was hilly and because several miles of the 12.9-mile looping road surface bore many scars. A myriad of potholes and arterial cracks had been thoughtfully covered with patches and lines of tar. Bumpy for a car's tires, but brutal for the narrow tires of a bike. Beastly for a bad back!

I kept to the plan throughout the out-and-back 10K. This rolling course used the same roads around the Prairie Creek Reservoir that would also be used by both the cycling and 5K legs. I hit most of the miles at just under six minute pace, but slowed while keeping the same effort (HR) on the two most hilly miles that were, conveniently, going into the wind on the return leg.

T1 went off without a hitch and I soon found myself passing many of the weaving triathletes who had reached the bike course first after the shortened swim. I'd say that 3-5 minutes in that cold water would have been more than enough. These people probably couldn't feel their hands or feet!

I was entered in the International or Olympic (yeah, right) distance of 10K - 41K - 5K, so I had to circumnavigate the 12.9-mile bike course twice. For one and a half of those loops I glanced back on the turns to gauge the gap back to the guy I believed to be just behind me. This was supposed to be a running workout, so I did not want to kill my legs on the bike. Three times I picked up the pace to slowly open up a gap.

Eight miles into loop two on the bike I managed to aim Faith directly at one of the biggest potholes on the roadway. Score! Pain shot down my pack and my right foot felt like a hand would after a solid "funny bone" strike. Later, while reviewing my Garmin data, it occurred to me that someone might guess that I simply pulled over and stood next to Faith at that point. My HR dropped 30-40 bpm during the last four miles despite those big hills going into that gnarly wind. Interestingly enough, it was during those last few cycling miles that the clouds dispersed to temper the somber aura.

Without planning to do so, I sat down in T2 and began to take off the tights. They hung on the timing chip wrapped around my left ankle. Because it was right in front of me, I saw more than 40 seconds tick off before I finally stood up and put my running shoes back on. And "that guy," Courtney Galyan, ran by me with his bike just before I stood up. Dang!

Luckily, the back pain had not progressed into the hamstring, so I started the 5K cautiously optimistic. It was at the turn-around of the 5K that I timed my lead at 22 seconds. Too close! I possess the kick of a turtle with a bum knee, so I decided to get moving right away.

After plowing up and down those hills into that wind all way to the line, I finished 1:40 ahead of Galyan. It wasn't a fast race for me or for the field, but it was a race. And I happened to be the fastest one lined up to go that distance on that day.

I will remember the experience fondly due to the fact that I was able to talk to old friends and make new friends. There are a lot of competitors out there who are supportive, kind, and respectful. Because of my gabby nature, I tend to make friends with people everywhere I go. Despite the cold wind, I was able to have conversations with several people, including Bruce, Mark, Anna, Greg, and Brian. Everyone seemed pleased with their efforts. Not one of us mentioned the questionable mental state of people who race in such awful conditions.

Muncie Multisport put on a great morning. The many volunteers were cheery and helpful. A freshly mowed transition area was well organized and manned for safety. The course volunteers provided instructive gestures that helped guide us in the windy conditions. Improvements could be made regarding the rough road surface and the group of adult volunteers who filled the air with cigarette smoke at the 10K turn-around/aid station.

The sciatic pinch caused me to stop four times during the trip home. If you have had the problem, you know what I mean. The piriformis locked up and evenually pulled painfully on the hamstring each time I had to press on a pedal. Forty miles of construction on I-70 did not help my situation.

I am once again focusing on the rehab tactics that have always worked for me. Perhaps I'll have surgery some day if the problem persists. Perhaps. I am, for now, avoiding the blade because I can still enjoy doing the things I love doing most of the time.

Running and riding are keeping me healthy and mobile enough to exercise my Ricky Bobby complex and, more importantly, to seek adventures in all of those mountains out there. ST

Winning and Losing

2011-09-18T20:43:00.002-05:00

I will start off by saying that I had more than two dozen replies via texts, emails, and phone calls regarding my last post on pacing. To clarify the intentions of that post I will simply say that I believe that each of us should set our own paces at whatever activity we are pursuing based on our own abilities and goals without being influenced by other people who do not chase similar goals or who do not have similar abilities. Finding that pace is the difficult part. It took years to develop the method for determining my pace and the paces of many athletes I have been fortunate enough to work with.

If a person simply wishes to be healthy and does not care to line up for races, that is fine with me. I just ask that person to respect that others have the ability and have chosen to go faster.

Finding the correct pacing and establishing a training plan around that pacing should result in personal best performances, or PRs. The more talented front-runner (FR) athletes will use their maximized abilities to compete for wins while the diverse group of middle of pack (MOP) and happy to finish (HTF) athletes will accomplish their goals.

No matter where an athlete's name appears on the final results of a race, no matter how fast or slow a workout is completed, no matter how health or weather has contributed to the day, an athlete must evaluate a set of realistic goals based on the training pace leading up to that day and decide if the day is a win or a loss.

Some athletes set too slow or too fast a pace in training. The slow trainer may set too low a goal or simply not achieve the expected goal. The fast trainer will eventually fail to recover and will succumb to fatigue, injury, or illness. It is not easy finding the right training goal, but several working methods are out there to be tried over and over again until that proper pacing is found.

That said, I will flatly state that I expect to win every day I train or race. My trophies are the fitness, health, and happiness I gain from these victories!

Each win and each loss must be evaluated from several viewpoints. Did the prior training go well? Did the recovery go well? Did I eat right? Did I set the right goal in the first place? Did I shave my legs? (Just kidding!) Was I having fun!!

Of course, some people want to race for trophies. They will wear those trophies like they are the latest fashion craze. They will hoist them for all to see. They might even create their own trophies in the form of tattoos. That is fine with me even though I have a decades long habit of rarely accepting awards that need to be displayed and dusted. I get enough satisfaction from achieving my 5K goal time or simply finishing a half marathon. I will admit, though, that the finishers' buckles awarded at many ultras should be prized! If you call that last statement inconsistent, then you probably haven't attempted an ultra.

Furthermore, I find the habit of handing out too many trophies a major flaw in our "everyone is a winner" society. When a high school cross country meet hands out 40-50 ribbons in a race made up of less than 100 competitors, the dilution factor reaches the level of embarrassment. (Ten medals, please!) I consider that to be the equivalent of handing out awards for everybody who happened to breath during the event. Or maybe it would be like awarding those who didn't fall down in an ultra - wait that one might be a goal worth seeking for some individuals.

Having recently regained daily control of my legs after a summer of significantly greater than normal training, I have settled into training paces that will allow me to run a fall race at the half marathon distance. I have yet to enter one but I am looking forward to setting a goal and achieving it.

Find your pace or find someone who can help you find it. Then you can accurately identify your wins and losses.

One Pace Does Not Suit All

2011-08-28T19:58:00.002-05:00

We are sitting at the large dining table in the Leadville hostel on the eve of the Silver Rush 50 Mtn Bike Race. Salad, pasta, and heavily buttered french bread are on the menu, on our plates, and quickly filling our guts. The group includes riders, runners, hikers, and hosts.

Based on her comments, I guess that the elderly lady seated next to me is a hiker who is likely on break from the Colorado Trail, which passes close to Leadville as it meanders 485 miles through the Rockies between Denver and Durango.

"So, are you hiking the whole Colorado Trail?"
"Yes, the two of us." She nods to a man on the other side of the table.
"How long have you been on the trail?"
"We're fifteen days out of Denver." The man nods in agreement.
"Are you having a good hike?"
"Yeah, because we're taking our time, not rushing through it."

There is a brief chewing pause. She takes in another fork full of spaghetti while I take in the tone of the words she seems to spit out while casting a disapproving look around the table.

"Have you hiked the AT?
"And the PCT."
"Awesome. I hope to hike the AT someday."
"Don't wait too long, because the day you're waiting for just might come after you die."
"That's great advice, but I teach and I only have the ten weeks of summer free. I've thought about attempting to do it in seventy days."
"Why on Earth would you do that? Just section hike it or, better yet, break it in half - one half each summer."
"That thought has crossed my mind, but it seems to disagree with the spirit of adventure and self-discovery that I would expect from an AT thru-hike."
"Whatever you do, don't rush it. There just isn't any logic in that."
"What if a faster pace is acceptable, comfortable, and more logical for me due to my fitness and time constraints?"
"Fast people get injured."
"So do slow people."
"Fast people can't enjoy the trail as much."
"Maybe going fast is what some people enjoy."
"It's just not right."
"So, you disapprove of what Jen Pharr Davis is doing right now?"
"Davis?"
"She's attempting a speed record on the AT."
"Oh, her. NO! I don't even think she is hiking. She has a crew of people carrying everything for her and making her campsite each night."
"Well, what she is doing cannot be called backpacking, but she certainly is hiking. And she seems to be in really high spirits."
"Don't be fooled. She is suffering"

For those of you who don't know it, Pharr lowered her women's record (56 days) and the record set by a man (47d 13h) when she completed the 2181-mile AT in 46d 11h earlier this month. That is 47 miles per day for almost 46.5 days!

My dinner mate at the Pbville hostel may not approve of this, but I am in awe of the accomplishment. The most impressive aspect of Pharr's AT hike is how consistent she remained from start to finish despite inclement weather and variable but constantly challenging terrain. Well, she even had the energy to put in a "kick" by covering 60-miles on day 46.

Under some scrutiny, her performance can be compared to that of a miler who posts three 56-second splits before finishing in 55. Or, from another perspective, it could be compared to a miler who sets a PR by turning in three 91-second quarters before roaring home in 86 seconds. Both of these efforts result in life best performances, which puts them on par with Pharr's AT hike. The big difference is that two of those three efforts also happen to be world records.

My dinner mate, after a reflective pause, informs me that the AT wasn't created for racing. She is correct.

"True, but most people struggle every day on the AT. Finishing it is "winning."
"But they aren't racing."
"They are racing themselves. They are finding the limits of their own abilities and pushing back the boundaries."

The words of my hostel dinner mate remind me of the voices I hear each year while riding in a local bike tour. I always ride this event at a comfortable pace that allows me to talk to my friends. Still, these angry female voices scream at us to "SLOW DOWN - THIS IS NOT A RACE!" I laugh as I look at my HRM and, seeing that I am at 55-60%, believe that the heckler is actually the one going too close to the edge. She will likely be suffering much more than I at the end of the day.

There is a pause in my conversation with the hiker before I say, "Fast or slow, old or young, strong or weak, people tend to finish difficult challenges at the pace they are capable of."

I believe that. I also believe that those who attempt to go at a pace beyond what they are capable of will be among those most unlikely to finish. Furthermore, I believe that this concept of pacing transcends all facets of performance and, more importantly, the training that prepares us for the ultimate goal. That is the basis for the training method I employ. My programs rely on specificity of pace. That is why I am often heard saying pacework and seldom use the term speedwork.

Find your pace and settle into it.

YMCA Sprint Duathlon Report - NO EXCUSES!!

2011-08-14T22:17:00.012-05:00

It was still dark outside while I drove to Scales Lake in Boonville. The drive reminded me of the drives to the trailheads of the 14ers I had climbed in June and July. I also recalled the predawn drives to the start lines of the Leadville Silver Rush 50 (7/17) and the San Juan Solstice 50 (6/18). And those memories prompted me to ask myself if I had gone totally bonkers.

All of the descending while running those two mountain ultras left my quads weakened. Though the true condition of my quads was not noticeable in my daily routine, I discovered it after my first hard effort. That came ten days after the SR50 when I ran a fairly relaxed and even-paced 4K cross country run on the grass at USI in miserably hot conditions. The next morning I stepped out of bed and winced as pain raced from my hips to my knees. Several icings followed.

That push/pain scenario played out three more times over the next ten days as I tested my legs. I really wanted to compete in the YMCA's first duathlon, but I also wanted to avoid injury. Being a sprint Du of a mere 2K run/15 mile bike/5K run, the event required me to make a huge shift in my training from the slow ultra running pace to a faster pace with higher leg turnover while also attempting to build some cycling strength.

A little more than a week before the Y-Du I put in a test run on the course. On a hot and muggy morning I managed to cover the course in just under 65 minutes while riding the bike leg in 37:00 and running the 5K in 19:50. That trial run gave me confidence because I stayed well within myself, especially on the bike where a tailwind on the return kept me from pushing hard on the pedals in the last three miles. I was forced to ice my sore quads 2-3 times every day for the next week. In the meantime, my right hamstring began to tighten up due to sciatic pinch.

I wrote the Y-Du off.

With race day approaching and the school year in full swing, I resigned myself to watching the race. Yet, I still tested the legs one more time with a hilly four mile effort on the bike. Hmmmmm.

So, I questioned my sanity as I drove to the Y-Du. I hesitated at the gate. It wasn't too late to go home. My eyes ached because insomnia had kept me up for four straight nights. My tight right hamstring burned each time I pressed the gas pedal of the RAV. And those quads were likely to let me down if I pushed too hard on the pedals. I parked the RAV and sat there in the dark thinking about all of these issues. And, well, I got really mad at myself for focusing on the negative and for creating excuses.

I convinced myself to park the bike in transition and then do everything I could to get my body and mind ready for a hard effort. I had already checked the entry list and reviewed splits from local runs and the cycling time trial series, so I knew that there was one guy, Greg, who would likely push me hard enough to find out what I was capable of.

The runs were on moderately hilly roads that contained a few short but steep ascents. I found myself trailing a group of three runners at the end of the 2K. Interestingly enough, the leader of the sprint triathlon also entered the transition with us. This excited me, because I'd always competed with the triathletes who race concurrently on the same course as the duathletes. I exited the transition and mounted Kristy on the heels of Greg and the triathlon leader.

A mile and a half later we had shuffled through our positions and the triathlon leader opened a gap on Greg and I. At mile four my legs felt too relaxed, so I decided to test Greg with a surge. A gap opened up between us on the winding and mildly rolling road, so I pressed harder and the gap increased. The move also caused the gap between me and the triathlon leader to stop growing.

Just before the turn-around at 7.5 miles, I hit what I thought was a small rock. It tinged off of the chain rings. I hate it when that happens!

The homeward bound tailwind of the previous ride was replaced race day with a headwind. By mile twelve my quads were starting to ache a little. It felt like I was pedaling through sand. Then I noticed it. Thump, thump, thump, thump . . . the back tire was low, not flat, but low enough that I could feel the valve stem contact the road. Maybe that wasn't a rock. A quick look under my armpit told me that Greg was still lingering about thirty seconds back. I pressed harder on the pedals. The triathlete began to come back to me and the gap back to Greg opened a little. NO EXCUSES!!

The applauding crowd told me that Greg was entering one end of the transition as I exited the other. I shook my head and laughed as I ran up the first steep little hill on the 5K course. Silly quads! Run!! After about a kilometer, an old buddy, Chris, rode up next to me on a mountain bike and told me that he could see Greg back behind me. Run, legs, run!

Coming out of a short patch of woods I was surprised to see the triathlon leader on the winding road ahead of me. And I was catching him - fast. Cool. But was Greg thinking the same thing while he caught up to me? I would find out after the first turn-around, which was just ahead at the top of a steep hundred meter climb. I laughed as I reminded myself how easy this would be compared to my recent mountain ascents. Shut up, quads! You're not supposed to be tight hamstring, just do what you're told!

When the triathlete circled the cone a mere ten seconds before me, I was delighted to see that he was my old friend, Barry. We have raced against each other many times over the last sixteen years and have always been fairly evenly matched. Because there is less than a three year age difference between us, we have often raced in the same wave starts.

I rounded the cone to see that Greg was not all that far behind me. In retrospect, I believe that he was further back than he appeared to be, because he was still climbing the hill. Nonetheless, I accelerated and soon pulled up next to Barry.

We crossed back into the park and I tried to convince Barry to finish with me. I eased up a for awhile, but Barry was having none of it. He waved me on knowing that someone was chasing me. I soon rounded the last cone and was happy to see that I had put a big gap on Greg. All I had to do was stay on my feet as I ran through the grass along the dam and the race was mine. Yeah, right! Recalling the many fresh scars from the SR50 fall caused me to focus on every footfall.

Though the time was a few minutes slower than what I believed I was capable of after my trial run and though the effort was well short of the effort I had put into my previous two du's (2010 Natls and 2009 Worlds), it was enough to satiate my competitive drive. I had, after all, ignored aching thighs, a tight hamstring, and a flat tire while racing along at an average of 92% of my maximum heart rate.

What a memorable day! The weather was moderate. In fact, it was great for mid-August, with clear skies and temps in the 70s. And I enjoyed conversations with a lot of friends, including Jeremy, Drew, Linda, Barry, Greg, Laura, Jim, Nathan, Randy, Clay, Wayne. and several others. Most of these people raced and had pretty darn good days! I am thankful to have such nice friends. It is awesome to share these experiences with like-minded people. I am also most thankful to be healthy enough to enjoy such events. (You know, such events as those when I don't crash!)

I also talked with YMCA race directors John and Barb, who put on several great races for the tri-state each year. Thanks!

I can hardly wait to wake up and ice in the morning . . .

Silver Rush 50 Follow-Up: The Inside Story

2011-08-05T14:17:00.007-05:00

Traveling has nearly ground to a halt, which means that my mobility is limited to trips to the store and to minimal training. The recovery, meanwhile, is not 100%. Experience told me not to get too excited about the first couple of training sessions, because the body is good at fooling the naive.

When I teach chemistry, I constantly personify the elements, ions, and molecules. For example, there are peasants, nobility, beggars, thieves, and thugs in the Periodic Kingdom. When I teach about metabolism and other biochemical processes, I describe a submicroscopic society (SMS) living in a society that exists within the human body. This society travels in tunnels that can be superhighways, Supers, (arteries/veins) and Locals (capillaries). These thoroughfares stretch between such places as factories (liver, marrow), homes (variety of cells), and power stations (mitochondria, cytoplasm). With that kingdom in mind, consider the following story.

On July 17, 2011 a runner from Indiana finishes the Silver Rush 50 Mile Run in about 8.5 hours, despite the fact that the run distance is nearly as far as HE normally travels in a whole month. The runner climbs and descends about 8,000 vertical feet, despite the fact that a week devoted to climbing in Indiana accumulates about half of that quantity. The runner, who lives at an altitude of 400 ft, runs in the SR50 despite the fact that race altitudes, ranging from 10,000 to 12, 200 ft, provide approximately one-third less oxygen than his Indiana air.

Phrased another way, that runner is competing in an event that is taking place in a location so foreign to his natural surroundings that his body is certain to take a beating. (Some people would say that the runner is foolish or nuts. And those people would all be correct, but that is another post.)

It is mere moments into the race, somewhere near the top of the insanely steep start hill, that alarms begin to sound throughout the SMS within the runner as the supply and demand of precious ATP falls out of balance.

"What in the hell is HE doing? We're being forced to ask the largest Fast Units to work at near capacity." Chief Mitochondria is doing all he can and the Boss suspects that all of the other mitochondria are doing the same. He knows the drill: He has to get his crews to produce maximum ATP at maximum rate.

"There is too little oxygen coming in to support our MitoAerobic Energy Plant, sir." A young Messenger is telling the old Boss what he is already painfully aware of.
"Then those anaerobic Units are going to pick up the slack, aren't they?"
"But, sir, we're supposed to be on the job for hours. Nonstop."
"That's right. So we are going to keep firing the big guns with the help of the CytoAnaerobic Energy Plant until all hell breaks lose. Again. Messengers have already reached Chief Cytoplasm."
"Will HE ever learn, sir?"
"No, I don't think HE is capable."

Once HE clears the top of the ski hill, the light-headed runner stubbornly continues with his death march along the dirt mining roads that will gradually take him up to over 12,000 feet above sea level. More altitude, less oxygen. His occasional glances at the gadget on his wrist reveal that his heart is pounding away at roughly 80% of its maximum rate. HE knows this is not good, but his deluded, malnourished brain suppresses logic and produces such propaganda as "gotta beat the heat" and "can't let people pass me" to inspire him to . . . pick up the pace. Just minutes into an all-day race, the runner is chugging up mountain at 85% of his maximum heart rate.

"The energy demand is increasing again, sir."
"Give me a report on the G's."
"The glycogen storage was topped off a few hours ago. And now it is being supplemented by a steady supply flowing in on the Super. At this point, sir, all Locals are packed with G's and the Phosphos are pulling them into working Units as fast as they arrive."

"Where in the hell is the power you promised us, Cyto?"
"Two minutes. We could catch up if HE would back off for two minutes, Mito."
"HE'll never do that."
"No, HE's likely testing our limits again."
"Probably, but it's not our fault that we don't have enough units to work with. And we have not been trained to produce power with so few O's available."
"The O level keeps dropping, sir."
"HE's a damned fool."

About ninety minutes into the race, the runner approaches the first high point of the day. The trail becomes more rugged and steeper. HE is dizzy again. His legs become sluggish and heavy and even his forearms tingle as his struggle grows desperate. Finally forced to walk, HE glances again at the gadget and is dismayed to see that his heart rate remains just as high at the slower pace. HE is walking while producing the effort required to run a half marathon in Indiana.

"Distress signal coming in from Chief Cyto, sir."
"Now what?"
"He has had to shut down thousands of units."
"Why?"
"The O's are at 64% and the G's are no longer arriving steadily."
"This is it, then. Bring in everything we have for damage control."
"But it's already so crowded here with all of this metabolic debris, sir."
"That's right, so we need the Inflamers to get busy with the clearing and rebuilding - right now."
"I'll send messengers to all of the ECM, sir."
"Good, but surely those extracellular guys have seen this coming."
"Anything else, sir?"
"Follow protocol. Get word to the Glands that the Inflamers are about to turn the heat up even more. Time to turn on the high pressure sprinkler."
"But we need the Ions to spark the Sacromeres, sir."
"Yes, and we need the Water to separate the G's. Let's pray that the fool is sending plenty of Ions in with an ample Water supply."
"HE is, but the Cells cannot absorb them fast enough, so both are steadily decreasing in the units, sir."
"You are just full of good news. Next, you'll probably tell me that HE is popping pills that will keep the COX2 from contributing to the repair."
"No, sir. HE has not ingested any NSAIDS in recent weeks."
"Oh, a rare wise decision or, more likely, HE forgot them."

As the runner descends toward the first aid station HE begins to recall how he ran painfully low on energy at this race a year earlier. HE wants to push the pace on this relatively smooth downhill, but he chooses, instead, to ease off a little. After hastily picking up a new fluid and energy supply from his awesome pit crew, HE continues on at about the same rate. HE is tired, but he has settled into a pace that HE can continue with.

"Chief Cyto reports that, despite the decrease in demand, he is still only able to fire some of his big units for short shifts. He says cleanup, repair, and synthesis of those units will continue to creep along until large quantities Growth Hormone arrive during sleep."
"Sleep! This fool won't sleep for hours. In the meantime, HE'll continue demanding energy while supplying insufficient O's. It will take us several weeks to recover from this disaster."
There is a brief silence as Messenger collects data and the Boss stews.
"We have reports coming in from many Mito Sectors that supply and demand are stabilizing. We are operating at 78% of capacity, sir."
"So HE finally slowed down, huh. Took the stubborn bastard long enough. ."
"Yes, sir. We can maintain this power output all day if HE keeps supplying us with Water, G's, and Ions."
"That, young Messenger, is a mighty big IF . . ."

Colorado Trail Hike

2011-07-28T14:43:00.000-05:00

Each of the past five days has been partially devoted to studying the Colorado Trail. I have read trip reports, watched a number of trip videos, consulted the website and guidebook, and looked into a gear setup for such a trip.

At this point, I am convinced that I can complete the 485 mile journey from Denver to Durango in 14 days at an average of 34.7 miles per day. This is ambitious, I know, but I also believe that it is quite doable considering that I will certainly spend months conditioning my body for such a trip. I see the logistics involved in taking care of and being returned to my vehicle as problems that also need to be addressed.

I would gladly accept any input that experienced CT hikers have on this matter. Feel free to post information here on this blog or in an email to pucc87@hotmail.com. Shane

Back to "Normal" - Peeking Back

2011-07-23T11:26:00.002-05:00

Five days have passed since I finished the Silver Rush 50. In that time I have experienced a speedy recovery. That recovery started well with a thorough massage and continued with a most uncommon, for me, fourteen hour sleep.

That recovery continued as I slacked my way through a couple more days in the Leadville area before taking a round-about and relaxed drive back to Indiana. Amazingly, the good sleeps continued for several days as I crashed for 7-10 hours through Thursday night. It would be SO nice to have that happen more often.

On Thursday I tested the legs with as easy a ride as the suffocating heat and humidity would allow. I covered 25 hilly miles at 20 mph while sweating like a high pressure washer. Love that new Lifetime Fitness (great slogan!!) cycling kit! I also planned to run in a 4K XC race on Thursday evening, but it was cancelled due to the heat threat. So, I stretched and slept instead.

Friday morning I shifted back into my normal training mode. I would normally have waited until Saturday, but watching the Tour fired me up and I went out and hammered my way through a very hilly 34 mile ride at 23 mph - again in full blown sweat mode. That effort felt good since I never really approached a hard enough effort to take me out of the comfort zone. Honestly, I am amazed at how great my cycling has gone with limited mileage this year.

Today I woke up early with intentions to put in my "normal" long run of 45-60 minutes. I ended up going 45 while throwing in a couple miles of pace work to test the legs. All good! That was followed by an hour ride that tested the cycling strength with a fifteen minute hard effort. Again, all is good!!

That means that I have resumed the normal training/fitness mode that I have maintained for 21 years. I'll run 15-20 mpw for the remainder of the year while I will try to maintain 60-80 mpw on the bike as life permits. The consistent efforts over the last 25 years have been geared toward keeping the body fit and healthy.

What's next? I don't know. There a several notes written in my journal. Planning for a variety of traveling and racing adventures has begun, but I honestly don't know what I will do next. I can't sit idle for long. What are your plans? Are you putting effort into making your life full and varied? I hope so!!

I'll close this post out with a few more pics taken from the recent adventures. Enjoy! Dream! Do!

Cairn to Heaven?

Family in NM

Wildfire in NM

Where is money box?

UT near Moab

Arches NP

Funmobile - sadly, not mine . . .

Curious breakfast companion

Noisy, annoying breakfast companion

Ball mtn opposite of sunset

Sun sets in the west while . . .

. . . Moon rises in the east

New friends!!

This dude needs a lesson or two in safe foot travel - and a shower!

Ate many of these - YUM!

Silver Rush 50 Report

2011-07-18T14:39:00.010-05:00

My primary goal for this year's Silver Rush 50 Mile Trail Run was to finish strong. This goal was the result of my having come completely apart during the last 13 miles of last year's race. In that race, my quads were gone after I left the Printer Boy aid station with 13.5 miles to go. That meant that I suffered while I walked most of the way up the gravel road from 11,000 feet to 12,200 feet. The ten mile rolling gradual descent to the finish was a death march. My quads kept me from running a lot and my back gave out with about four miles to go, making it hard for me to even stand upright, let alone walk or run with balance.

During the last year I have worked hard on my core, building a powerful 8-pack and lower back muscles to match. I also converted ALL of my runs to the hilliest courses with hope that the 500-1500 feet of elevation gain each run would add up to better results. I am fully aware of the fact that a race of this distance, at this altitude, and with this vertical is completely outside my range. It is a perfect venue for stretching my envelope.

I also gained entry into the San Juan Solstice 50. My plan was to complete this brutal course with enough left in my quads to attempt the SR50 four weeks later. So, I took a camera and tried to not be competitive. I even backed off in the end when my knees started to ache on the Slumgullion descent. Smart move!

In the end, I do believe that my quads were not fully recovered for the SR50. Maybe the two 3K+ climbs I put in last weekend were a factor. Even though the legs felt great during those runs, the runs were only 60-90 minute efforts. Anything longer and I might have noticed my quads were not 100%. Maybe.

Race details: about 48 miles - almost 8000 ft of climbing/descending - mostly horrible footing - sunny - start temp of 50F and finish temp (record) of 80F - La Sportiva Skylite 2.0 (perfect!) - Smart Wool Comp Socks - Brooks Infiniti III Short - RaceReady Sleeveless - Garmin 310XT - Indy Mesh Hat - Kinesys 30 Sunscreen - Nathan 1.5L Vest - Hammer Gels and Perpetuem - Nuun Electrolytes - POSITIVE ATTITUDE!

The plan was to mimic last year's exit splits of 2:03, 4:07, and 6:07 at the Printer Boy and Stumptown aid stations. I also wanted to move more efficiently through the aid stations. Last year I hung out for no good reason in each of those places - my sons crewed me well and did not contribute to my lolly gagging. This year I had splits of 2:07, 3:57, and 5:56.

The aid station time was cut by about ten total minutes, so I was moving at about the same rate overall. The steep climbing was a bit slow, indicating that the quads were not 100%, but I seemed to be moving efficiently everywhere else. Part of this was the adrenaline rush I got when passing the rest of the field near the turn-around. I LOVE out and back courses for this reason. I kept a smile on my face and constantly laid out my dry humor. I kept telling the people I passed on my return up the steep Ball Mtn pass trail to tell the guys behind me that I was smiling and sprinting. I did get winded as if I had been sprinting when I reached that 12,100 foot pass. It was right on the pass that I caught a guy and started to press the pace a little for the first time all day.

I must admit that I was ecstatic when I got back to Printer Boy due to how strong my legs felt! I was excited in my belief that I would go low-8 on a day with a record high temperature.

At the interim aid station in the gulch I was already 26 minutes ahead of last year's pace. This was because I had walked less than half of the climb up the gravel road and because I had run smoothly at an 8:0x pace down the gulch despite its challenging footing. I hit that aid station with a guy who had just over five minutes on me when we started down. I also caught glimpses of two other runners. Needless to say, I was psyched about this year's finish.

With about 3.5 miles to go I was still moving quickly when I started looking for the power lines we would pass under. Because my legs felt so strong as I left the last aid station, I decided to pick it up under those lines where there was relatively good footing - provided my legs still felt good. They did!

One poor decision, one moment that lacked attention, turned everything around. I looked up for the power lines while under the shade of trees and clipped a rock with my right foot. This section of trail has many embedded stones and should be run with focus. I experienced the hardest fall I've ever had on a trail when my second foot also clipped a rock as I tumbled forward. I should note that it is almost always my right toe that clips rocks and roots due to a sciatic-induced drag of the right leg which becomes more pronounced the longer I run. Surgery some day?

The fall resulted in both hands landing on a jagged rock that would have hit my face and both knees crashing into another jagged embedded stone. I then bounced onto my left side and skidded on more embedded rocks as I rolled over. Fun, fun, fun! Pain, pain, pain!

A few seconds later I was brushing myself off with bloody hands as I cursed myself. Stupid dork! Who looks up in the shade? Dorks, that's who! Idiot!

I then struggled to hit 12 minute pace during those last few rolling miles. Both knees swelled instantly. There was also the typical pain in my right hamstring that comes with catching a toe. It was hard to relax and not focus on the stupid move.

I finished 12th in 8:27. I wore the number 12 because I also finished 12th last year in 8:41. In a trend being experienced by trail races all over the country, there were almost twice as many entered this year. There were 279 finishers, 32 DNFs, 61 DNSs, and dozens of people walking around with open wounds from falls. The kind medical crew cleaned my wounds with a pesticide sprayer and they taped ice onto my knees. It was embarrassing to be more beat up by that one misstep than the other 750,00 steps along the route.

This was a great weekend. That is after I ignore the lack of sleep (30 min. Sat night!!) thanks to bears, men with guns, ATVs, and normal insomnia. And the sinus infection that came on Saturday morning. Yes, it was truly memorable. I saw old friends (including John) that I have met on previous adventures and new friends (including Tina) from the SJS50. And I made some new friends, most notably, Sergio and Robert.

Sergio and Robert rode in the SR50 bike race on Saturday. We hatched a plan to crew each other while in line at the Provin' Grounds on Thursday. It worked well, even though Robert reached Printer Boy much earlier than he thought he could while I was being held a mile away where the race course crossed a road. I was arriving about a half hour earlier than they had requested, but Robert smoked that first leg. Things went smoothly from there. We served each other well. Thanks, guys! We also enjoyed a couple of great meals and long conversations. Add these two guys to the list of awesome people I have met in these mountains.

The 2011 SR50 proved to be the physical and mental challenge that I expected and hoped it would be. I am walking away from this one with great satisfaction, lessons learned, and with one bruised and battered body. Yeah, Life IS Good!!!

Moab and Arches NP Photo Blog

2011-07-14T12:47:00.005-05:00

The following pictures were taken during the two days I spent exploring a very small portion of Utah near Moab. They are from Hal Canyon along the Colorado River and inside Arches National Park. Several small but intense storms moved across the valley and canyon, creating some incredible color variations. It was a mostly sunny and hot day at Arches, but I got out early to take advantage of the soft colors created by the morning sun.

The internet is moving quite slowly here in Leadville, so I will have to upload more later. There are many more! Double click on them to blow them up!

From the Hal Canyon area east of Arches NP and Moab.

From Arches NP. The rock formations have white man names, I don't care about that.

Opening scene of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

Checking Out the Hardrock 100

2011-07-13T19:40:00.004-05:00

I was fortunate enough to find myself back in the San Juans July 8-10. The purpose of my visit was to check out the incredibly difficult Hardrock 100 and, originally, to pace a guy who hoped to be among the elite of the race. However, just after I finished loading the RAV I received word from the runner that he had not gotten on his flight from Seattle due to issues with his wife's pregnancy.

The vehicle was ready to go, except for the cooler, so I got a good night of sleep before heading out on Thursday morning. Thursday evening I followed a custom of eating at a microbrewery. This time it was the eleven-month-old Colorado Mountain Brewery. The meal and beer were good, but a bit pricey.

After taking CO 24 west through the front range, I camped near Buena Vista. On Friday morning I ran for an hour, getting in over 3K vertical. The legs felt great going up and down. The one-hour ride that followed was made incredibly difficult by 40-50 mph crossing headwinds as I ascended the Arkansas valley for 12 miles. The return, of course, was fanflyingtastic!! Thanks to that same wind, several miles on the moderate downslope were clocked at just over a minute! 1:08, 1:07, 1:09, 1:13 - that IS flying folks. Big fun, except for the fact that the side gusts sometimes moved me 8-10 feet and, thus, into the lane of traffic.

Then it was on to Ouray where the Hardrock 56 mile aid station was located. That was where I was supposed to start my pacing duties with Miles. Once there, I put my name in with the station manager. She told me that a French runner named Daniel would be needing a pacer. I told her that I only wanted to go one or two aid stations. This would give me up to sixteen miles and 9K feet of vertical gain/loss. She requested that I go farther, but I told her about the SR50. Then I walked and waited for the runners to arrive.

When they did come, another Frenchman was leading. Julien Chorier led from start to finish, beating a host of very talented US mountain runners. Daniel Levy was in fifth place. When I approached him I was ready to pace him. So was another pacer. And he was willing to pace Daniel all the way to the finish. So he got the nod. I waited.

More than three hours passed after Julien came through before Mike Mason of NC came through in 14th place. Only a few of the leading runners looked strong with 44 miles to go. Most, including Carl Meltzer, did not look good at all. The sun had set when Mike came through, but he had just passed more than a dozen people. I had been asked by a crew member and pacer to pace Mike to Telluride.

I went back to the RAV with an understanding that Mike would come through at 10 o'clock. He came through 33 minutes earlier and I missed him. So, I missed to opportunities to pace.

Thank goodness! Daniel overcame early GI issues and dropped the hammer. He actually put his talented pacer, Clark Fox, in difficulty a few times when he was feeling good. And the next day, it was Clark who was gimping around while Daniel strolled as if he had not even participated in one of the toughest races on Earth. Amazing! Hung out with the two on Saturday evening, driving Clark to Ouray to get his truck before sharing dinner with him and Daniel - on Daniel's dime.

We had a long conversation during and after the meal. Daniel was impressed with our freedoms and our lands. He was shocked by our over-consumption. And, from the moment he landed in Denver, he was appalled by our, in his word, "size." Daniel did admit that French youth are also becoming obese at an alarming rate. It seems US fast (fat) foods are on the increase in that nation.

I was excited to see Diana Finkel again. She was as humble as when I first met her on Handies Peak, even after winning the women's race and finishing in 5th place overall. She had dueled with Daniel throughout the second half of the race.

What fierce competitors they both Daniel and Diana were! And they both so kind to me and everyone who interacted with them. Daniel repeated many times that he could not have finished his run without Clark's aid. He must have thanked Clark fifty times.

At the award ceremony on Sunday morning it was the race director who was brought to tears when presenting Diana with her award. The crowd of several hundred echoed his response by giving her a standing ovation that lasted several minutes. Diana, with the mike in hand, told how the aid station director grabbed her and asked, "Have you PEED?" Diana assured her that she had. She also added that she had to pee while she was on stage. Many tears flowed. (Recall from an earlier post that she nearly died and spent many hours on dialysis after suffering from rhabdomyolsis, kidney failure, following the 2010 HR100.)

Two runners who I met on my previous visit to the area also faired quite well. Dakota Jones, aka Young Money, finished second overall. Matt Hart, who had hooked me up with Miles, finished 14th. These two are just two more of the outstanding people I met on this journey west.

I also met and had long conversations with several other people while waiting out the race. Some of them, I believe, will be long-term friends. The ultra community is an uncommonly friendly group that I am proud to be a part of - for that part of the year that I am lucky enough to participate.

I must also add that Chris Gerber, an old friend from Evansville who now lives in the Denver area, finished 22nd in this crazy hard race. What a stud!! He complained about going out too hard, but his rock-steady pacing allowed him to finish in 36 hours 55 minutes. Can you even imagine putting your feet down millions of times on near vertical ground for a day and a half - nonstop! Amazing! It was great to talk to Chris and his family, including his younger brother, Andy.

The HR100 is an unbelievable test of endurance and willpower. Several people asked me if I would try it. We'll see . . .

Some pics from the 2011 HR100.

Julien Chorier at Ouray

Nick Clark at Ouray

Dakota at Ouray

Dakota sitting for a "meal"

SJS50 Champ Joe being aided by the healing Anton

Karl Melter loading up

Julien Chorier closing fast and far too fresh!

Julien Chorier winning the HR100 by almost two hours!

Dakota Jones approaching the finish

Daniel Levy (l) and Clark Fox finish hand in hand.

Diana Finkel winning the 2011 HR100

Recovering From the Effort

2011-07-02T22:21:00.002-05:00

This is a story of effort and recovery. It is one version of a story that is constantly repeated by endurance athletes. It is a story that we all want to have a happy ending.

I have not made a secret of the fact that I am an insomniac who sleeps less than three hours per night for five to ten nights before finally collapsing into a death sleep for a night. While this would seem likely to hinder my recovery from training and racing efforts, I don't seem to take longer than most people I talk to.

It has been two weeks and two hours since I finished the San Juan Solstice 50. That tough course, despite my efforts to stay within my personal limits, caused some serious damage to my legs. Well, the four 14ers I summited in the next five days might have contributed to that damage. A little.

My legs were certainly tired and tight and sore after the run. But those climbs seemed to loosen my legs and back a lot. With each day of climbing I felt stronger. In fact, the last climb of Redcloud and Sunshine came extremely easy to me. That was last Thursday.

Perhaps it was the overall fatigue from the daily efforts. Or, maybe, it was a result of my love of and comfort in those mountains. Regardless, I slept for seven to twelve hours for five nights in a row.

That all changed on Thursday night when the normal me reappeared. I barely slept at all for two nights before struggling through what should have been an easy desert run in White Rock, NM. The legs were tight and extremely lethargic. Not even the 6-7 foot rattler I nearly stepped on put any pep in my stride.

Back in Indiana this past Tuesday I set out on what I have deemed "the adjustment run." This is the run in which my legs have to relearn how to operate smoothly on relatively flat asphalt. Surprisingly, the pace was normalized within a mile. This encouraged me to test them with a little pace work. The relaxed effort allowed me to run a negative split 4800 meters in 16:30. Wow. That was unexpected. The ten-mile 25-minute bike ride which followed immediately after that 31-minute five mile run was an even bigger surprise. To say I was excited to have my legs back would be an understatement.

Two hours later I was certain that someone had locked a large vise on each leg. The pain! The suffering! The rigor mortise. That one hour of moderate effort had caused my legs to feel like they had the day after the SJS50. Note - Recovery not complete!

For two nights I stayed in bed for nine hours. The pain in my legs kept me from sleeping the first night, but I laid down and woke up nine hours later the second night. Sweet!

What followed in the early morning heat and humidity was a labored hilly ten mile run that I ran at a slower pace than normal. Then came an icing and a massage. The planned bike ride was postponed that evening due the visit of a relative. Thanks, Maurice!

The next morning I saddled up with hesitation and, honestly, a lot of fear. The SJS50 recovery was dragging on too long. And I had not been able to sleep on Thursday night. I fumbled around for almost an hour mulling over the planned ride. I feared possible outcomes like a big bonk, more of the intense pain, a prolonged recovery, or an injury.

With each passing mile my legs felt the same despite the suffocating heat and humidity and the hilly course. It wasn't like I was pushing hard on the pedals. I was, in fact, trying not to. Yet, Kristy and I kept turning in quick miles while I remained comfortable. Near the top of the Saints loop (catholic churches found on hilltops) I felt good enough to add five miles.

When I reached home I had completed my longest and hilliest ride of the year which was, sadly, only 34 miles. The average speed was over 22 mph. Best of all, the legs felt great all day. Boy, was I glad to have gone forward with that ride!

Today I awoke to another ozone alert and miserable conditions. Into the woods I ran for a very hilly 1:35 half marathon effort. That was followed by a shower to remove the mud and a 35 mile (21 mph) ride over a course almost identical to the one I rode yesterday. Longtime followers of this blog know I call this type of long brick training BS - Big Saturday. Sitting here now, my legs do not feel like I completed a BS today. That qualifies this BS as great BS.

The legs are back. This is especially exciting as I prepare to drive back to Silverton on Wednesday/Thursday to do some pacing in the Hardrock 100. That will be followed by a week of high altitude R&R before the SR50.

I recently came across a relevant quote. John Wayne once said, "Courage is being scared to death and saddling up anyway." That icon's words caused me to ride yesterday, despite my fear of dragging out my SJS50 recovery. I recalled the same quote and posted it on FB moments before I saddled up with tired legs again this morning.

When I first read the quote I applied it to troops going into battle, but today I realized that it could easily be applied to less noble actions fittingly when those actions resulted in personal growth. Like when I threw caution to the wind at the ITU Duathlon World Champs two years ago when I rode as hard as I could in a driving rain storm to earn a silver medal. Or when I lined up for the SJS50 hoping that I would finish and do so without injury despite the fact that I had only run five hundred miles this year. Or any time I deny my fear of heights while climbing rock faces in the mountains.

When can you apply it to your life.

Saddle up!

CO San Juan Trip Mileage Report

2011-06-28T16:33:00.001-05:00

I've been peppered with questions about the kind of mileage I was logging during the thirteen days I spent exploring the San Juan Range (and in Los Alamos). I shall start by saying the other two days were spent driving most of the 3,534 miles I logged in the RAV. Yes, I am getting an oil change for the second time in three weeks. And, yes, I am trying to rival Al Gore for oil consumption . . .

Running and Hiking miles: 138
Ascent/Descent feet - on foot: 32,200
Cycling miles: 111
Ascent/Descent feet - on bike: 11,300

I know these numbers are nothing to get excited about, especially from the perspective of those people who train big and or who live in the mountains. Furthermore, these totals pale in comparison to the fact that competitors in the Hardrock 100 will log 100 miles and almost 33,000 ft of ascent during a period of less than 48 hours!!! It is, however, a drastic change from the 15-20 miles per week I normally run. Plus, that accounts for over 20% of this year's cycling mileage. I can only imagine how many miles I would log if I lived in or near those mountains. By the way, those 32K feet of climbing would require 375 ascents of Stru Hill - borrrring.

On the topic of Hardrock, it looks like I will be pacing there next week. I am really excited about this opportunity, since I have thought about it several times over the years. More on that later.

San Juan Verticality

2011-06-27T18:25:00.011-05:00

The San Juan Solstice 50 tested this Indiana boy's legs and willpower. My normal preparations for traveling by foot in the Rockies actually went quite well. I drove to Colorado convinced that I had done a sufficient job of converting my 15 mpw legs into mountain climbing legs. I had, after all, done this many times before. And this preparation went as well as could be expected. So, I drove to the SJS50 knowing I would finish. I had hoped to complete the 50 miles well within my capabilities and without developing an injury. Mission accomplished. Barely.

As I ran along the Continental Divide at over 12,000 ft without any water and without the promised aid station in sight, I began to worry about even being able to finish. Then, after finally reaching the aid station 2.5 miles away from where it was promised, I camped there under the tent while drinking cup after cup of water. I also swallowed several salt capsules and a variety of calories from the selection. Once satiated, I staggered back into the intense alpine sun and began to run. Within minutes my head was clearing up and my legs found new life.

At about this time I began to once again run with Craig. We dropped below tree line and began to move quickly down the precipitous drop toward HWY 149 and the Slumgullion aid station. I even had thoughts of pushing hard enough to catch up with Tina and Josh, who had both flown through the divide aid station and were ahead of Craig and I on the descent. That was when my left knee began to ache. Again.

Though I turned my right ankle six miles into a 22-mile run at the end of April, I did not quit running 6:50 miles. I was, however, favoring that right ankle. By mile 14, when I was eight miles from home, my left knee began to ache. The dull pain came did not come from any place in particular. The whole knee just ached. I ended up bailing on that run and walking the last mile home due to the fact that my stride had lost all smoothness due to the problems in each leg.

I took three days off before rolling right back into my training. All seemed fine. A couple of weeks later I felt the knee just a little in the closing miles of the Indy Mini. And that was the end of that - or so I hoped.

Knowing how much stress steep descents can put on a knee did cause me some concern regarding the SJS50. That concern turned to fear when I climbed up from and descended to HWY 149 on the Wednesday before the race. The fear was repressed by the renewed energy carried me down that same path during the race. And then, within just a few strides, the knee began to ache.

I slowed without hesitation or conscience thought. I never intended to race the SJS50 and I certainly did not want to get injured completing it. So, I began pampering that left knee. I did so throughout the final twelve miles of the 51 mile event.

By Monday morning my knee felt really good. Well, it felt better than all of the other parts of my legs. That knee certainly felt better than my right quad, which had suffered through harder impacts due to me favoring the left knee. Funny how that works.

I camped at 12K feet in the Yankee Boy Basin near the Mount Sneffels trailhead on Sunday night with the intention of climbing the 14er at sunrise. There was a 20% chance of precipitation overnight. At 2:25 I awoke to rain and a temperature of 46 degrees. When my alarm went off at 5:10 I slowly flexed and stretched my limbs like a cat would. Boy, was I tight. I was surprised to learn that I was really not very sore.

I was even more surprised to look outside and see snow. SNOW?! How? WTH!!? Large snowflakes were crashing diagonally into the already 3-inch deep snowfall. It was 29 degrees and near white-out conditions. What happened to 46 degrees! And where are those gazillion stars I was hypnotized by just hours earlier?!

After quickly dressing, I walked up the trail a few dozen paces. There was no way I would be climbing in these conditions. Not solo, even with these crampons and ice axe I thought. As I walked back to the RAV something awful occurred to me. I had driven along a narrow shelf in the face of the gorge on the way up. What was the temperature there? Was the snow sticking to the road like it was up here?!

Imagine my relief when the temperature rose to 34 degrees and the road cleared as I drove toward the shelf. You don't have to imagine what the scene looked like because I stopped to record the memorable wintry landscape I was traveling through just before the summer solstice. Note: I promise these pictures have not been computer enhanced. This is how it looked to my eyes that morning.

That is the road through the cut out on the right.
Hundreds of feet directly down to the left.

Approaching the cut out from above.

The sky was almost entirely clear by the time I had consumed a bison burger and a brew down at the Ouray Brewery. I ate the Scrap Cookie from Mouse's Chocolate Shop and Cafe while basking in that warm sun. Then I traveled to Silverton. Actually, I stopped several times along the way to sight see and to loosen up my legs by walking. Eventually, the challenge of the 11K foot pass got to me and I unloaded Kristy so that we could work on my summit fever.

While in Silverton I might have visited the Silverton Brewery. OK, I did. I am hesitant to admit that because someone might get the impression, or recognize the fact, that I spend an awful lot of time in breweries while gallivanting through the mountains. Also, I don't like to talk or write about bad experiences. Enough said!

I then ventured into the cafe to acquire a more palatable taste. Unfortunately, they were about to close, so I was back out on the street within minutes. After walking all over town and realizing that most of the town shut down after the last Durango-Silverton Train pulled out, I walked into a souvenir shop.

Inside I came upon Dakota Jones and another guy talking to the shop owner. I soon learned that the other guy was none other than Matt Hart. Cool. To those of you who are not familiar with trail running - think Drew Brees and Peyton Manning or Joey Logano and Jeff Gordon. We talked for awhile and then we talked some more in the morning when we met up at the cafe. Both of these guys are talented and humble. I certainly appreciated being able to talk to them.

Once my mocha fix was complete I began my drive back up HWY 550 to Sneffels. What a difference a day makes. The RAV and I once again experienced the long, bumpy drive up to the trailhead.

The cut out in the sunshine!

Notice cliff at right of cut out.

Within minutes I had strapped on the crampons, grabbed a water bottle and some snacks, and started walking toward the edge of Yankee Boy Basin. I was surprised that the snow held my weight in the hot 10 am sun. Onward and upward I walked as I craned my neck to see all of the beauty surrounding me. It was upsetting to see how far I had walked from the RAV without a camera. I walked some more.

Eventually, I was walking up a very steep face. I haven't spent a lot of time walking in crampons, so I was giddy like a school boy about being able to stick to the steep icy mountain face. Then I reached a ridge over which I could see desert ecology. The ground under foot was still covered with crusty snow, so I just let the crampons do their thing. And I walked upward until I could not walk any higher. Though I had expected to take a short hike when I left the RAV, I had reached the summit of Mount Sneffels. I was smiling broadly as I sat down and ate the two energy bars I had stuffed in my jeans pockets. Yes, jeans. I had only intended to go for a short walk to test the crampons on the snow condition.

Upon returning to the RAV I traded the water bottle for the camera and walked part of the way back out to get some pictures of the basin. By then the sun was intensely hot and I could not stay on top of the snow. Post holing to the waist while wearing jeans is not at all pleasant.

Next up was Telluride. Though it was only a couple of miles from the Sneffels trailhead, I had to drive all the way out of and halfway around the San Juan range to reach this ski town. I stopped first at the Ouray Brewery for a celebratory meal.

Telluride turned out to be a neat town, but nothing spectacular for summer adventure. I did walk around a bit in town and I even, believe it or not, stopped in Smugglers Brewery where I drank a pretty good ale. Then I drove to the edge of the mountains where the road turned directly upward in a series of switchbacks toward Bear Pass. Though I wanted to drive up it, I wanted even more to get back to the Lake City area where I could climb some more 14ers. A drive of more than two hours was required to reach that area.

On Tuesday morning I awoke at sunrise and drove into Lake City where I enjoyed a mocha at Mean Jean's before continuing on up beyond Lake San Cristobal to the Handies Peak trailhead.

The sky was once again an unblemished blue. I smiled knowingly as I looked up and thought about all of the stars I had been studying just hours earlier. They were still there.

After loading the summit pack and starting up the trail I realized how good my legs felt. Incredible, I thought. Because I was only a few hundred meters up the trail, I returned to the RAV and retrieved my Garmin and heart rate strap. I was going to climb this one quickly to make it a workout. When I reached the RAV a lady with a pack ran by me as she turned onto the trail. Hmmmm. She had on Hokas. And she was running up a mountain. She had to be a mountain runner and she was likely training or the upcoming Hardrock 100.

The Hardrock 100 is one of the most brutal mountain races on Earth. This race does to runners' legs what a tenderizer does to steak. There are over 33K feet of ascending and descending as the course loops through the San Juan mountains. And the course goes right over the top of Handies Peak.

I did push the pace early on, running most of the first mile up. When I caught the lady I slowed to her pace and we began to talk. Amazingly, the runner was Diana Finkel. I had just read a feature article about her in the latest TrailRunner.

That article discussed her incredible 2010 Hardrock race (she came up just short of being the OVERALL winner) and the nightmarish aftermath she experienced when her kidneys stopped functioning properly. She spent sixteen days in the hospital and twice received dialysis to clean her toxic blood. The article, written by her pacer and husband, Ben Woodbeck, did not indicate her current status or whether she would be running mountain races any time soon.

Within minutes we had struck up a great conversation. Diana is also a teacher, so we shared a lot of our personal teaching experiences while comparing the state of education in our two states. We also talked a bit about mountain ultras and gear. Diana was wearing a pair of the recently introduced, and freakish looking, Hoka running shoes. Though many people have reported having issues with this cushy shoe, Diana has not had any issues.

Together, we meandered through the snow in the basin below Handies. Diana had snowshoes in her pack and I wondered why she didn't get them out when we started post holing. I did sink deep deeper and more often than the diminutive lady, which made me wonder if those Hokas would have kept me on top more often. As it was, I was sinking thigh deep over and over, especially when I closed in on warmer exposed rock. More than once I found myself laughing as I struggled to get out of snow that was above my waist. Diana patiently waited while I floundered.

We eventually acquired the rocky footing of the ridge where we could get back to a steady pace. I was looking around and was surprised to be at the summit when we reached it. Diana unfolded her hiking sticks and used one to point out the Hardrock course through the vast snow fields beyond the summit. Within seconds of reaching the top she shook my hand before turning and QUICKLY descending the other side of the mountain. I sat on a boulder and ate the sandwiches I had prepared as I watched her amazing descent. I wondered if I could hold that downward pace. She made it look so easy. It will be interesting to see how she fares at this year's HR100. I wish her the very best!

After twice having the good fortune of running with top female mountain trail runners on this trip, I know that much can be learned from them. I took notes and hope to benefit from my experiences when I return to CO for the SR50. Believe me, I will be watching both the HR100 and the LT100 with great interest as I root for Diana and Tina.

After finishing my meal I took what few pictures my exhausted camera battery would allow before starting my own descent. That descent was tough! The slushy snow could not be walked on. Glissading on it was also nearly impossible. My butt would slowly sink in and I would come to a stop with a crotch full of slush. Yes, that was certainly cold! It actually took me ten minutes longer to get off of the summit dome than it had to ascend it.

Diana traversing a snow field

The big toe on the big foot does not like mountain ultras!

I brushed the snow and ice from myself when I finally reached the water-filled trail in the basin. Then I ran back to the RAV with the same kind of effort I exert on a road run in Indiana. It felt good. This was an 8.2 mile trip involving 3700 ft of ascent/descent.

Next up, after a thorough clean-up in the shade, was a drive up the 4x4 road to the American Basin near Cinnamon Pass. What an adventure! The RAV was certainly tested by the terrain, despite the fact that I drove her as gently as I could. We didn't bottom out or drag one time. The mountains surrounding the basin were so awesome under that deep blue sky. The smell of the spruce forests and the various sounds of the streams carrying snow melt from the basin made this an experience to remember.

I camped up there in the basin and then drove down to the Redcloud/Sunshine trailhead just a bit before sunrise. This trailhead is actually in a high meadow (10,400 fT) just across the road from the Handies Peak trailhead. At 4:15 a couple and their dog started up the trail to Redcloud. I relaxed and waited until the sun came up to finish my preparations.

It was 5:55 am when I started running up the trail. Within minutes I reached the first snow field. It was, more precisely, an avalanche field. The trail followed a stream through a deep and narrow gorge which had several even steeper side gullies that had once been filled with snow. That snow had avalanched and was now packed tightly in the bottom of the gorge. It was fairly easy to run over this snow.

I ran every time the rocks under foot would allow me to. I even darted across streams that were littered with ice-covered stones. It only took that one slip to produce a soaked and frozen right food. I grumbled that it should have been the left foot which bore the blackened big toe.

The climb to Redcloud's approach ridge also involved a snow field. Luckily, the sun had not reached this steep slope, so the post holing was minimal. Having learned from the previous day's experience on Handies, I turned around several times to plot my descent. I passed the couple with the dog just as we reached the ridge.

Handies summit dome was as steep as any that I have encountered. The loose rock and scree was also covered with a few snow fields which hid several portions of the trail. Eventually, I reached the short switchbacks that preceded the summit.

The view was spectacular! I could see hundreds of snow capped peaks to the north and west. And I could see the high desert plains through which HWY 149 snaked to east and south. I could also see the summit of Sunshine, the smallest 14er at 14,001 ft. It called out to me from a little more than a mile away, so I paused only long enough take several long drinks of water before moving forward.

I was able to run almost every step between the two summits. That allowed me to relax for almost an hour on the summit of Sunshine. What a sensual treat! I could go on and on about the view, but I won't. Instead, I'll share some pictures and let the words form in your minds.

Because I somehow LOST one of my crampons, I chose to drive down to Los Alamos, NM to raft, run, listen to music, and visit wineries with some cousins instead of climbing more 14ers. That is fine. Now I have a NEED to return to the San Juan Mountains. Well, two needs. I also need to experience the normal SJS50 course.

Enjoy the pictures!

Avalanche chute littered with spruce debris

Majestic!

Redcloud summit dome from ridge at saddle

First peek at Redcloud summit

The Red summit

Hello, Sunshine!

That Clif package is about to pop at the pressure of 14,001 ft.

As far as the eye can see . . .

Looking back at Redcloud from Sunshine

So many mountains . . .

All this beauty and the camera gets pointed at that!

San Juan Solstice 50 Report

2011-06-19T15:19:00.002-05:00

Ninety minutes into the toughest fifty mile race in the US I could see some of the best mountain racers in the country. And they were coming back to me! In fact, they were running toward me. It seems that the race leader had seen a course marker, but second place Karl Meltzer had missed it and led the next thirty runners, including me, off course for several minutes. Now the top fifty or so runners were funneling like cattle onto the seldom-used cattle trail down the mountain known as Vicker's Ranch. While a few runners were obviously upset, most of us laughed as we darted down the steep grassy meadow. I stopped to shoot a couple of the fifty-three pictures I took during the run.

It was a great day in the mountains for me. I got to climb four mountains - well, three and one of those twice. The weather was pleasant, but perhaps a bit warm during the many miles above tree line. I ran most of the race with Josh, Craig, and Tina. They all pulled ahead of me as I slowed to pacify my weak left knee when it finally started aching on the third steep descent of the day. Tina won the women's division. Like Josh and Craig, Tina possessed a kindness and easy-going demeanor that made her a great running partner, so I was pleased that she finished strong and won.

Tina and Josh as we made our way up to the Camp Trail

My realistic goal for this event was to break twelve hours. Looking at past results and evaluating times posted by people I've raced against, I thought I could run around eleven hours on the normal course. Every race veteran I heard voice an opinion felt that this year's course was significantly more difficult. So, a sub-12 effort for me when I really did not want to run hard was acceptable. I finished in 11:45.

And that was for a distance of 51.4 miles. In addition to the little off-course excursion mentioned above, a lot of runners missed marker on the Slumgullion and added distance there. Judging from my own and several other people's GPS measurements, I believe that the course was about 50.5 miles without the off-course running.

This was a brutal course. I now appreciate and believe the claims that this is the hardest 50-mile mountain run in the country. The course required us to climb and descend two mountains in the opening 22 miles. Both of those mountains were steep enough to make everyone walk at least a little. Because I did not want to push my limits, I did not run up-mountain until getting dizzy, like I normally do. In fact, in an effort to enjoy the experience more, I often stopped to soak up the scenery with my eyes and camera.

The only times I got dizzy were, ironically, when I was drinking or eating. That pause in breathing to swallow is enough, at eleven- or twelve-thousand feet, to make things fuzzy. This was especially true while running 10-11 minute miles at 12K+ feet on the divide.

The 2011 San Juan Solstice, with its four mountain climbs and descents totaling almost 13,000 ft of vertical gain and loss, was my toughest physical challenge to date. This is despite my attempt to "take it easy." My body was fatigued when I crossed that finish line. My wind was foggy. My pride was about as swollen as it ever has been from physical and mental accomplishment.

Without sounding too melodramatic or philosophical, overcoming challenges like those presented by the SJS50 can teach us a lot about ourselves. We can accept other of life's challenges with the knowledge that we have already been tested and found capable. And we have sore feet to prove it!

I will add that a lot of things went wrong for me yesterday. Little things, mostly, but any one of them could have ruined my day had I not reacted the way I did. When I thought back on that, after twelve hours of sleep, I thought about the power our environment has on us. This calm, remote place called Lake City, CO definitely had an profound effect on me this past week. I am, after all, a 15-20 mile-per-week runner most of the year. This mountain running is an extension of both my desire to explore mountain ranges and to explore who I am. The SJS50 provided a great vehicle for such exploration.

Many of the people I have mentioned in earlier posts were volunteering at the SJS50. Craig greeted me at the first aid station and Rene refilled my water on the divide. Then, when I limped back to my cabin at Westwood Resort, I was thankful to have owners Keith and Theresa there to give me a helping hand. I got the cabin at the last minute. And boy was I glad I did! The bed was comfy during my twelve hour slumber. Furthermore, my conversations with Keith and Theresa were quite enjoyable. They are just two more good-hearted people enjoying the "high" that comes with life in Lake City.

A few of the pictures I took during the run. Enjoy!

Sunrise on Vicker's Ranch

A steep and rocky ascent

A steeper and rockier ascent

High meadow - vertical trail!

Going around a snow field

Uncompahgre from Round Top

Josh on top of Round Top

Divide reaches the sky at 12K feet

Traversing the divide - they gap me at each pic!

Forrest - 16 y.o. who got lapped in his first 3200 m race,
but qualified for the state meet this year.
Now he has finished the SJS50!

A Look at Lake City, CO

2011-06-17T15:55:00.007-05:00

City Park - SJS50 Finish Line

One of many places to eat and drink in Lake City

Tourist Cabins - Lake City's Motels

Cabin in the City

A summer rental!

During the last three days I have been able to absorb a lot of information about Lake City. Here is my interpretation of the things I have read or heard about this unique place. Mind you, I am certain that more perspectives are needed to build a working knowledge of Lake City, but that would take more time than I have. It could take months or even years to know this place intimately.

The area was first inhabited, as were many locales throughout Colorado, due to a mineral discovery. In 1871 a group of men created the Ute-Ulay mine after they discovered silver and lead near Lake San Cristobal. The growth of that mine brought in many laborers and brought out more than $14 million in metals.

A Mr. Hotchkiss formed the $3 million Golden Fleece Mine in 1874. Hotchkiss became the "father of Lake City" after he built the first home here.

Before continuing, I feel obligated to state that many people have told me that Lake City is the most remote city in the lower 48. Though I have tried, I have not verified this. I do know that Lake City is from from anywhere and it has one real access road. In 1889 the narrow gauge Denver-Rio Grande Railroad reached Lake City. It ran until 1933 when the small railroads around the country were outdated with the increase in standard rail and automotive usage.

One of the first stone buildings constructed after
most of the wooden Lake City burned in 1879

Colorado HWY 149 is the main roadway through the area. It was a wagon road which was not completely paved until 1985. Yes, 1985. The meandering mountain and high plains road, which I traveled on yesterday, stretches 117 miles. Lake City is located at mile 74. That road was named the "Silver Thread" in 1990 when it became part of the Colorado scenic byway network. Add a drive along this road to your bucket list.

In 1915 a wealthy Texan named Wupperman built a second home in Lake City to escape Galveston's oppressive summer heat. He started a trend that continues to this day. A drive through the Lake City and Lake San Cristobal area on the Silver Thread is like a parade of homes. There are dozens of modest to high-end homes here. Many are only occupied during the summer months - by wealthy Texans. Observation of auto license plates will verify that.

Mansion on a Mountain

One of several drinking holes found in Lake City

That leads me to point out that the year-round population of Lake City is about 400 while the influx of summer dwellers and tourists bring the population to around 4000 by the 4th of July. There are, of course, many outdoor activities to partake in here. And there are many lodges, cabins, and resort ranches in the area to use as base camps.

The year-round inhabitants are a unique breed. Most of them visited the area and simply never left, despite the brutally cold winters which last almost five months while often registering temperatures in the -20F to -30F range and accumulations of snow that stand taller than a man.

Why do they stay? Lot's of reasons, really, but the common draw seems to be a slow life in one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

When the RAV picked up a nail my first day here, Rene's Garage fixed it as soon as I walked in. Well, he and his assistant did stop work for about ten minutes to admire and discuss a BLM worker's new truck. Rene and his wife were world travelers hailing from Switzerland before he took a short-term mechanic job here in 2002. He never left and eventually opened his own garage.

Hannah is from Denver, but her parents spend a lot of time here. A valedictorian who was accepted at Harvard, she was drawn to the area. Now, at twenty-three, she is Jean of Mean Jean's Internet Coffee Shop. She has lived here for the last three years. While the winter cold and isolation have tested her, she says that she likes it here. Furthermore, she has exceeded her original business plan. Like Rene, she said that a person who lives here, especially one who owns a business, must be judicial with their summer income since it must last them through the winter. Interestingly, "Mean" Jean is following her own path in a way similar to her relatives "Green Been Jean" and "Clean Jean."

"Mean Jean"

Another year rounder I met was Craig. His big grin greeted me on my first morning in town after he drove down from his yurt. He welcomed me and wished me well in the SJS50 without me even telling him I was entered. I must have a malnourished and psychotic look that can be easily recognized. Craig is in construction and finds himself busy, especially through the brutal San Juan winter. He says that it is actually easy to get a good construction job during the winter months because that is when the wealthy part-time dwellers either want renovations done or expect a new home to be built for summer move in. Craig has been here nine years. He loves what he does. He also works straight through the winter without complaint because that is what the job requires. Many workers start in the Fall and leave in December when the weather turns. They simply do not have the work ethic or the passion for life here in this uncommon place. Craig's genuinely friendly demeanor and his work ethic caused me to like him instantly.

I'll close by writing about the cabins and businesses along Lake San Cristobal. Many of them sit in the path of or directly on, the Slumgullion earth slide. This mammoth fragment of mountain has been liquefied for centuries. The "Slum" has been the focus of studies that indicate it is still moving at a rate of about twenty feet per year.

When the Slum first let loose about 800 years ago it moved violently and swiftly a distance of four miles, blocking the path of the Lake Fork of the Gunnison River. Lake San Cristobal was formed. Scientists believe the upper portion started moving again about 350 years ago. And it is still moving today. Which brings me back to the millions of dollars worth of structures built on the original Slum down by the lake. I call this insanity.

A variety of churches (above and below)
are located in Lake City

Lastly, I have not sped in the RAV since I arrive here - and I am not in the least bit annoyed or pained by this fact. The speed limit in town is 25 mph, but I have yet to reach 20 mph. It is true. Maybe, for therapeutic reasons, I should find a job here for the rest of the summer . . .

CO 149 - The Silver Thread

2011-06-16T16:42:00.007-05:00

The RAV was rolling just before the sun again today. Can't burn sunlight when there is so much to see in the San Juans. Besides, I have to get my internal clock set for that little affair going on Saturday morning since it has a 5 am start time.

These acclimation weeks have very little structure or planning. They become more exploratory in nature with plenty of non-taxing activities. Oh, I've tried the other route and it did not work out so well.

Back in 2007 I started running, yes running, up Crestone Needle and Crestone Peak. Because I had to be in New Mexico for a week long IB workshop by sundown, I chose to run the five mile approach road with a seventeen pound summit pack. The gasping created by that effort was replaced with dizziness that was occasionally interrupted by hysterical laughter as I worked my way up the steep slope leading up to the rocks. The snow there was 2-5 feet deep. It was also soft by 8 am. So, I was post-holing as deep as my chest while climbing a 60-degree slope. I sat in an attempt to clear my head once I reached the rocks. I eventually decided to turn around on the climb up to the Needle's summit. Recovery was not happening. I retreated and returned a week later to summit these and the other Sangre de Cristo Range 14ers. Thankfully, most of the snow was gone from that slope.

That brings me back to this morning. I drove out to where the SJS50 course crosses HWY149 at Slumgulliun. Knowing the course would come down this section, and wanting to test my shoe/sock selection on a steep slope, I ran a kilometer up from the road. That is about 3274 feet along the ground. And I ascended 1032 ft. That is over 31% grade. And that is steep. These people love their steep trails and jeep roads. Switchbacks are as foreign to the locals as rush hour.

With a heart rate that quickly passed through my normal training zone, I "ran" that K in 10:12. The descent took 5:13. I will NOT be bombing down these steep descents on Saturday. I'd like to keep my knees and hips for a while longer.

If finished up by running below HWY 149 until I reached the Slum. This "Slum" is a rather large chunk of mountain that is moving about 20 feet per year toward Lake San Cristobal and its collection of high-priced homes and cabins. It will be interesting to see how all of this plays out - on Saturday and in the coming years.

The next several hours were spent driving and hiking south along CO149. The topography changed at almost every bend in the road. It was fascinating and jaw-dropping and promised much romanticism.
Of note, the wind blew ferociously from the south all day, bringing enough moisture to allow cloud formation in what was an empty blue sky. This, I believe, made the pictures more interesting. Hope you feel the same!

Hiking along the Continental Divide and Colorado Trails

More of the CDT and CT

Faraway 14er Sunshine Peak from the Divide

13,826 ft Rio Grande Pyramid - Where the Rio Grande begins

North Clear Creek Falls - WOW!

Imagine sitting here with a sweetie at sunrise . . .

Surreal midday light effect

See the ranch house?

Hello, Lake City!

2011-06-15T18:25:00.004-05:00

Some personal obligations kept me from reaching the high country as early as I intended. I ended up going to the Leadville area first. The high Arkansas valley, at an elevation of 10K+ feet, is great for acclimatizing and big mountain viewing. Big snow covered mountains this year.

Mt. Massive from where the waters of Turquoise Lake usually lie.

Mt. of the Holy Cross as seen from Turquoise Lake

In an attempt to sucker punch the lungs, I ran four miles on the Silver Rush course high in the California Gulch at 11K+ feet. It went smoothly until I started post-holing in knee deep snow. The feet got wet and cold almost instantly, though even my socks were dry by the time I finished the four mile run. I also rode Faith on the road around Turquoise Lake - after a repair job due to shifting cargo during the drive west. That was a first and it was due to using a new cooler that, apparently, doesn't like bike derailleurs. A final run on the Turquoise Lake trail completed the Pbville area training.

That left plenty of time to walk some shaded trails and sip mocha and yerba matte latte at the Provin' Grounds. OK, OK, I confess that I also enjoyed a blueberry/chocolate chip scone - or two.

Of note was the fact that the 2500 participants in this year's Tour of the Rockies rode through Pbville on Monday. The quiet old mining city was bustling! Also, while I was finishing my dinner near the start of the Silver Rush an interesting thing happened. Ultra runner and Pbville resident, Lynette Jennings, waved as she ran by and then chugged right up that ridiculously steep hill! Note taken.

The three-hour drive to Lake City was purposely slowed to five hours. I couldn't resist stopping in the Buena Vista Roastery for a mocha, which I drank while sitting on the bank of the Arkansas river in the BV water park. Yumm. One can never over-indulge in soy mocha! I then stopped at The Bean cafe in Gunnison for a black bean sandwich and an icy herbal tea. It was easy to pass on the Gunnison Brewery since they produce beer with a helping of bacteria.

I arrived at Lake City just before the 5 pm closing of Mean Jean's Internet Cafe. While sipping on a Fat Tire I had a lengthy and informative talk with Dave, Evan, and Joe. Hope I got those right since I got a call and did not write them down as I normally do. Correct me if I am wrong, guys! They have been hiking the not-so-finished Continental Divide Trail. They left the Mexican border in early May and expect to arrive at the Canadian border in September. I did admit that I was envious of their mid-twenties sense of adventure. I did not tell them that Tyler would be envious of their voluminous beards. They told of post-holing to the waist on what is normally the SJS50 course when they dropped down from the divide. Hmmm. Those guys were tough. I'll bet that they would do well in the 50 at their current strength and endurance. Happy Hiking Boys!!

Early this morning I ran up a mountain just outside of Lake City. At one point an elk spotted me. It ran along the steep jeep road toward me for about fifty feet. Stopping just behind the aspen in the picture below, the elk stared at me knowingly.

Can you read, Hoosier?

The course has officially been changed due to the deep snow and the nearly-overflowing streams that are forded on the normal route. This is a bit of a bummer. An asterisk must now go next to my time even though the alternate course still has 12,991 feet of ascent/descent and a high point of 12,193 ft.

A high note of the day came when I met up with fellow SJS50 runners Georgians Perry and Kena along the Alpine Loop Road. These two have been to the SJS50 before, so they know a bit more about it and the area than I do. They set me straight on how the alternate course will run. They also made me feel a bit lazy due to the fact that they were logging about five times the number of miles I logged today. What a couple great people! We talked for long enough that I felt bad for holding them up in that intense high altitude sun. I am sure I will be seeing more of them soon.

Below are some (iPhone) pictures I took in the area today. I'll download more later, Enjoy.

Looking over Lake City

Overlooking Lake San Cristobal near LC

Thompson Lake above LC - notice the beaver dam

Oh, yeah!! A nail started my Lake City adventure off in style.

An arrow and a finger point to where the nail was - Thanks Rene!

CO Bound

2011-06-08T13:38:00.001-05:00

Well, I will leave as soon as I get this mess of gear organized and loaded up. The preparation is, basically, done at this point. Now I must rest the legs and get to higher ground where I can attempt to acclimate. What a shame, because I realized yesterday morning that I am finally getting acclimated to the suffocating southern Indiana heat and humidity.

The training met my expectations. Many two-hour runs were punctuated by both quick asphalt miles and Stru Hill repeats. I climbed that hill faster than ever, even while sweating like a yard sprinkler. My focus on the Hill probably cost me in leg turnover on the roads, but that is OK since there isn't much asphalt to run on in the SJS50. I doubt that I will want to run sub-6 pace at the start or end of a 50 Mile event.

Even though it came late due to the pinched nerve in my shoulder, cycling also played a role in my preparation. Last year I was able to rely on the BS (Big Saturday) 3-5 hour workouts in which I rode 75-120 minutes after 2-3 hour runs. This year I ran those 2+ hour runs more often and gradually added cycling as I was able. For instance, in recent days I ran 1.5-3 hours as described above and then followed up with 75-90 minute rides. While my overall fitness is not great, due to low cycling endurance, I am running quite strong for an old has-been who never was . .

Here are a few observations that came to mind while I was reviewing my log last night. I did not trip or fall or turn my ankles even one time during this CO build-up. This was a first! My core work was at an all-time high because I did not allow myself to forget the irritating and hilarious (to my sons) back failure which caused me to finish the Silver Rush 50 looking like I needed a cane. Well, actually, I DID need a cane! Also, while my cycling was limited (just yesterday I reached 500 miles for the year), I have been pushing the pedals hard enough to turn in a 26 mph 12-mile time trial and, more recently, a 27.3 mph 10-mile training ride.

All of this leads me to believe that I have put in the effort. Now I must get this Indiana body to higher ground. I am looking forward to a leisurely week of acclimation during which I will revisit the high country around Leadville before moving on to the Lake City area for some course recon. I had originally planned to go directly to Lake City, but the 5-8 feet of snow on parts of the SJS50 course will likely cause the race committee to hold off on a decision to use an alternate snow route until just before the race. I want to pack drop bags (the crew just landed summer jobs!) before I leave, but what goes into those bags depends on the course. So, I will wait.

Of course, I do not plan to simply complete the SJS50 and return home. I also intend to climb the eleven San Juan 14ers I have not climbed before I head east. That goal will largely depend on my recovery from the SJS50 and the snow pack. I am definitely packing all of my winter gear while remaining hopeful that the warm air continues to liquefy the snow. Recent reports indicate that the snow, while being quite deep in many places, becomes slushy in the sunlight. I post-holed my way up the Crestones back in 2007 and I can say that is one adventure I am not ready to repeat every day for a week.

This promises to be another fine adventure. I am excited about the people and mountains I will come to know. And, of course, the memories and stories that I will be able to cherish and share.

Using Gear While Keeping it (Kind of) Simple

2011-06-01T12:08:00.003-05:00

One of the most alluring aspects of running is its simplicity. It can be as easy as slipping on a pair of shoes and putting one foot in front of the other. Most of us, however, choose to complicate the process a little or a lot. Given the modern media barrage aimed at getting us to empty our wallets by purchasing the latest update of "can't live without" gear, (Even the most spendthrift and simplistic ultra icons hawk gear) it is easy to get caught up in the gear race.

While ultra marathoners are relatively new at this game, multisport athletes have been playing it for over two decades. I have made a habit out of researching, building, and riding high tech bicycles. I have also made a habit out of keeping them simple and riding each of them for years. (Faith has over 34K miles) I don't collect wheel sets for every weather/course condition. I ride in a ten year old pair of cycling shoes. Only recently did I invest in an aero helmet. Many gadgets have hit the market that I haven't even batted an eye over (bento box = jersey pocket). So, the fact that I am hesitant to write a piece about gear is understandable. That is why this post has been slowly evolving over several months.

Consider something else about me. While it is easy to load up a backpack with enough gadgets to carry a mini home on your back, I choose to carry a pack weighing 16 pounds on four night walks. Food, water, sleeping bag, camera, and a light are all I need to enjoy the trail.

My part-time addiction to running trail ultras evolved out of hiking and climbing. In trying to keep ultra running simple, I have decided that I "need" adequate shoes, a hydration system, and a watch with a HR monitor. And some clothes, of course! And sunscreen - duh! Below is my perspective on these types of gear. Write to me if you disagree or if you can further educate me.

SHOES

For me, the proper shoe is the only essential piece of gear for running. Though I have tried many times to ween myself from my dependency on orthotics, I still need a shoe to properly accommodate them. Unfortunately, not many will do the trick. I have run on the roads in Nike Triax and Lunar Elites for many years because of how well they hold my orthotics in place. Those shoes are not stable enough for the trails, especially root or rock covered trails. Last summer I tried to run on the Silver Rush course in the Elites, but I stopped after turning my ankles several times within a mile.

In a pinch, I bought a pair of La Sportiva Skylites from Sawatch Backcountry in Leadville a few days before the SR50. Because the only pair they had was a half size too small, I wore ultra-thin Smart Wool cycling socks. What a shoe! It fit like a snug slipper, giving me adequate protection from the rocks while not giving me a single blister (which I know is also because of those awesome socks - enough said). The only drawback to the shoe is its lack of cushioning. Through my own experiences and by watching what is going on in ultras, I believe that there is some merit to running in a cushioned shoe to limit the micro muscle tears incurred by hard foot strikes. A road marathon is much harder on my body and takes more time to fully recover from than a trail ultra. Unfortunately, the Skylite is currently between models and the Skylite 2.0 is not due to be released until July 1.

So, I am looking into several shoes that claim to have relatively good cushioning. Those shoes include the new La Sportiva Electron, the Montrail Rogue Racer, and the Hoka One One Mafate. Getting my feet into these shoes without paying for shipping is the problem.

I tried on the Electron (338 g) in Chicago recently. The left orthotic did not sit well and I was not prepared to test shoes, so I didn't have my bag-o-tricks with me. Like the Skylites, these shoes are snug and low profile. They have a new pliable sole material that absorbs rocks and roots (and merchandise I threw on the floor at the shop). The result is a softer ride that maintains a high level of stability. The Electron is a departure from the typical hard and heavy trail shoe. This shoe certainly meets my trail needs, so I need to try to get my hands on a pair and see if I can make the orthotic work.

The Rogue Racer is soft and stable. It is very light - 248 g. The Rogue Racer is my current go-to shoe because I feel comfortable going up and down Stru Hill in it. The low weight is noticeable while ascending and the stable cushioning is the best I've had while descending that rocky, rutted farm road. The Rogue Racer is a bit wide, though, so it allows my orthotic to side around. I am working on this.

I would like to try the Hoka, but I will wait until I get out west where I can walk into a shop and try one on. This shoe is freaky! Super tall and wide, it is built to be stable and soft. Those who wear it swear by its protective powers. Given these racers' ability to quickly return to racing, there could be some truth behind the hype. I certainly plan to check this one out.

It would be wrong for me not to mention the New Balance Mountain 101. This minimalist shoe is super light (212 g) and snug fitting. Though it has a thin sole, it does have a rock plate that I have found most helpful on the rocky Stru Hill. The Mtn101 is a great shoe, but I would not wear it for an ultra simply because of its lack of cushioning. Still, I just may wear it during the early miles of the SJS50 where it will shed water and quickly dry after the numerous stream crossings and because there are no long, steep descents in the early miles.

HYDRATION SYSTEM

I have run more than a thousand miles carrying bottles during my short ultra life. I have only used handhelds during my previous ultras, despite owning a light hydration pack I use for day hikes and a Nathan Magda 1.5L vest. Handhelds are simple enough. They can be traded or refilled in seconds at an aid station. Those handhelds with velcro hand straps suit me best due to the fact that I get easily annoyed and distracted by straps that loosen over time. Handhelds offer great hand protection during falls. Sigh.

I have used the hydration packs during training runs, most notably during Smoky Mountain and 14er climbs. The packs are a bit more difficult to refill, but more practice will probably help. I intend to use the Nathan during both of my 50's this summer. Whether I will use it for all or a portion of theses races is yet to be determined. With no crewing, I will need to think in terms of efficiency and volume.

HR MONITOR

This is my delve into gadgetry. If you follow this blog you know that I am a firm believer in the use of a HR monitor to bring the highest level of specificity into my training. While I rarely look at the HR during training or an event, I regularly analyze trending in the HR data. So, I wear a monitor whenever I am in motion. While I have used Polar since 1992, I used a Garmin 310XT for a short time due to the fact that I went to Apple's operating system.

Polar is the world leader in HR technology. The RS800CX I have has many bells and whistles on it. I don/t use all of them, but that is because I am old school. My HR days precede the current training software advances, so I have learned to analyze the data myself through a simple and quick process.

While Polar is the HR king, Garmin has the boss when it comes to GPS technology. Many ultra runners wear Garmin watches because of the distance traveled and mapping features, despite the fact that the error in distance traveled is significant. While I would like to have more and/or different HR information, I am drawn to the Garmin (310XT) for one reason - I don't have to wear a bulky arm unit to get the mapping I desire. Again, I am fortunate to have an understanding of HR data that allows me to use the limited HR information from the Garmin.

The Polar is easier to use and provides great HR data. The Garmin has a built-in GPS unit - which significantly limits battery life! Two different worlds to choose from. And they are, due to competition, merging worlds. Polar is about to release a new line of HR monitors that will use an internet-based software system (like Garmin) and a smaller, but still separate, GPS unit. Garmin is using its on-line data collection to diversify its HR analyzing abilities. I am looking forward to owning the latest Polar heart rate computer and utilizing software, GPS, and online features.

SUNSCREEN

Due to the fact that I have had several cancerous tumors removed during the last two years, I must include sunscreen in my "gear" list. I recently found myself researching the usage of sunscreen again. There are so many choices out there. And they use a variety of chemicals to attempt to protect our skin from the sun. What I am trying to learn is: What actual good are the chemicals doing? What harm can come from using these chemicals? If a sunscreen actually protects while not causing damage, how long will it stay on?

What I have learned is that the information available is mostly conflicting and, to an extent, propagandized by the industry. For example, several studies appear to indicate (carefully worded!) that vitamin A included in sunscreen formulas actually breaks down and that the bi-products are linked to melanoma formation. Yet, many sunscreens still contain vitamin A. Also, many of the organic materials used as active ingredients in sunscreens have been linked to a wide variety of side effects and ailments. The usage of metals, most commonly Zn, is also quite common, but metals also present a multifaceted side effect profile.

The most obvious thing to do is to limit exposure to sunlight. I train at dusk and at dawn. But ultra marathons go on ALL DAMNED DAY. So, I have to decide whether or not to use sunscreen. I choose to use it. And I am currently using the brand kinesys because it doesn't have vitamin A, it disappears when rubbed in, and it "seems" to protect even while I am sweating. This is certainly an on-going study.

Big Run Fun

2011-05-22T14:45:00.003-05:00

This will certainly amuse the big mileage runners out there, but I had a huge week when I logged 56 miles last week. Add to that the "long" run in Chicago last Saturday and I had a total of over 69 miles logged during an 8-day period in which I ran five times. Include the 8K+ feet of climbing and ascending, and you have what I deem a quality ultra week.

Last weekend I completed two runs of over 13 miles, giving me an "ultra" weekend. Then, yesterday, I was able to travel to LBL to run on the Canal Loop. I covered 27 miles in 3:29 with a little over 3000 feet of up/down. It was warmer and certainly more muggy than I wanted it to be, which slowed me near the end, but I finished what I started while testing some gear I hope to use this summer (more in a blog I'm writing). It was a good day of suffering that should help prepare me mentally and physically for the immense vertical changes of the San Juan Solstice 50 in four weeks.

Of note is the fact that this felt like my first run on the Canal Loop. Sure, I've run the loop about a dozen times before, but all of those runs came during the winter months. That means no canopy of foliage and only brown leaves and fallen trees for understory. The dense May foliage gave the trail a new look. It also blocked most of the views of the two lakes that had only recently retreated from the the flood stage reached because of the recent onslaught of rain. The result was some slightly muddy low areas and an occasional dead fish smell. Overall, I gladly welcomed the color and the sun block.

The results of this week show me that I possess greater climbing ability than I did last year before the Silver Rush - despite the fact that I have purposefully kept my weight quite high. One of the goals I established for this ultra summer was to go into it capable of running 16-18 miles at a sub-6 pace on low altitude roads. This was accomplished by the consistent pace work that started in March. The plan calls for adding climbing abilities to that speed. The late March NC trip and the 48 recent Stru climbs indicate that I am climbing well - for me. So far, so good.

I must add that the constant changing of my athletic goals - from runner to ultra runner to duathlete to 14er - has kept my legs and mind fresh over the last several years. I am really looking forward to experiencing the San Juans this summer as a runner, cyclist, and climber. I am also looking forward to spending some time in the Leadville area, which has been a summer home for me over the last five years.

Two Contrasting Runs

2011-05-16T21:55:00.004-05:00

One of the most repeated words in my training lexicon is specificity. When the training plan relies on minimal mileage, it is wise to make certain that each one of those miles serves a purpose. Looking at my log last night I had to chuckle at the similarities and differences in the two runs I had completed. I wondered whether anyone other than myself would see the specific goal I am training for reflected in the log.

Saturday morning in Chicago was a bit beyond blustery. Fast-moving dark clouds let a few sun rays pass through when not spitting rain indiscriminately. The NNE wind was merciless as it thrusted and gusted from 40-50 mph. My chosen course closely resembled the last-minute lake front course of the Chicago Monster of last October. I ran north from Grant park along the Lakeshore Trail to a point almost a mile north of Lincoln Park.

The run can be described in several ways. It was a seven mile sand blasting of my legs. It was like running behind a jet engine. It was insanity. It was fun!

Before leaving Grant Park a guy eased ahead of me. He looked at my chest - and I at his. He had a number on. I picked up my pace a little and yelled at him through the wind "What is the race distance?" "5K," he yelled back. I eased off and was eventually passed by a five other racers. They turned twice and made their way south at the north end of the park. Lucky bastards!

This was the kind of run where pace meant nothing. I checked the HR a few times due to my stress and strain against the wind. The HR was fine. The pace was not, so I made the decision to keep my planned distance and live with running for a longer period of time. You are training for a pair of high altitude 50 miles races!!

It was north of Castaways that my legs began to feel as if they were being sanded with sixty grit. Merry travelers going south began to stare at me - at my legs. I looked down and saw what looked like raw meet. I wanted to eat my Espresso gel at about six miles, but I didn't want to have a sand chaser.

At one point I laughed at a couple of triathletes who eased ahead of me on their $5K bikes. They were tucked in tightly while stomping on their smallest gears. They were weaving back and forth much more than I was. It was the Lakeshore Insane Asylum. Until I got a bright idea. Another triathlete passed me on a Cervelo P3. Nice ride! He was barely moving faster than my near eight minute pace, so I surged and started drafting off of him. He was lower than my torso, but he and his ride deflected much of the sand that would have become embedded in my thighs. I stayed on his wheel for almost a mile. He noticed and shook his head. I laughed and told him to kindly keep his head up.

As soon as I made a U-turn the "Fasten Seatbelt" light came on while I accelerated. I could hear again. Bikes going south, even the cruisers, were booming through the sound barrier. I found myself among a couple of hundred participants in a half marathon. Too funny - they soon had to turn back into that wind!

Good mountain training? Well, it was designed to weaken my legs before the Sunday run. The fierce wind made it more challenging than expected, but I was OK with that. Day one goal accomplished.

Sunday's run was quite different. I strapped on the La Sportiva Crosslites and made my way to Stru Hill. I was thirteen minutes into the run when I began to run repeats on the hill. Twenty-four round trips on that hill gave me just over 2K vertical feet of climbing in eleven miles of running. That is 2K up and 2K down in just over eleven miles. I thought about completing thirty climbs, but I ran them faster than I ever have run a long set, so I quit after two dozen. This run indicated that I am well ahead of the fitness I had five weeks before the Silver Rush last summer. Day two goal accomplished.

Two extremely different runs that combined for great ultra preparation. Both runs were almost entirely off asphalt, since I ran on the gravel beside the Lakeshore Trail. A flat, but brutally windy run was followed by a run without flat sections. The average HR for the two, while higher than I would average for a hard 50 miler, was slightly higher than the highest HR I will achieve in a 50-mile event. I can't wait until next wedkend!

Easy Street

2011-05-12T10:32:00.000-05:00

Shortly after sunrise this morning I found myself going up and down Stru Hill. This yo-yo running has become a regular and invaluable part of my training over the last several years when I am preparing to push my Indiana body in the high Rockies of Colorado.

The recent record rains have left the old farm road deeply rutted and covered with abundant obstacles. Perfect! If you are not familiar with Stru Hill, then I should mention that it is almost a quarter mile in length and climbs about 90 feet as it snakes through a very pleasant forest. It is what I have within reach to help me prepare for the CO climbs. I run up and down it as many as thirty times during a run while achieving 1K-2.5K of climbing and descending.

This morning I ran for the first time since the Mini, logging 10 round trips in under 33 minutes on Stru giving me almost 900 ft vertical ascending and descending. The climbing legs were surprisingly strong considering my recent activities. My splits indicated that I am in significantly better climbing condition than I was last year at this time. That's good, because the SJS50 involves more than 12,800 feet of climbing, which is far greater than the 7400 feet of climbing in the SR50.

Of course, any mountain runner will tell that the descents are what destroy your quads. That is why I try to descend quickly in training. When I want to concentrate on steeper descents, I move to the back side of Stru Hill because it has the same altitude change in half of the distance. It is a real quad buster as the repetitions add up.

Those repetitions this morning, combined with my recent reading of several SJS50 race reports, had me longing for sustained climbs offering open vistas. When I realized that I had started to get negative about my training conditions, I made myself start singing Marley tunes. It must have worked, because I finished feeling quite chipper.

A short time later I found myself watching this video. My life is SO simple compared to the athletes in the video. It was just what I needed to spark a can-do attitude as I embark on the most difficult and repetitious phase of my mountain training. Stru Hill is, quite literally, Easy Street.

Hammerfest 1

2011-05-10T22:29:00.005-05:00

How do you follow a half marathon? Extra sleep? Check. Massage? Check. Plenty of slow movement to limit muscle lock up? Check. Bicycle time trial? Check.

Several weeks ago I entered the Southern Indiana Triathlon Team's May edition of the monthly Hammerfest time trial series. Then, about a week later, I acquired a bib for the Indy Mini. I had a decision to make. And I made the one that made the most sense to me. I chose to race both events - provided that I did not get injured running the Mini. Well, if you are following this blog you know about my Mini experience. Now for a short tale of a 12-mile bicycle time trial called the Hammerfest that took place about 58 hours after I finished the Mini.

Details. The Hammerfest took place in a tiny burg called Hatfield, IN, which is about 15 miles east of Newburgh, IN. Due to flooding, the 12-mile course was rerouted for this first month. We rode an out and back course with seven turns on pancake flat roads that ranged from smooth asphalt to wrinkled and patched chip and seal. It was a course sufficient enough to produce fast speeds if the legs were able and the mind willing enough.

I was scheduled to start near the end of the starting order at 6:32 pm. Due to appearances at a faculty meeting and a track practice after school, I arrived at the Panera on Evansville's east side with little time to spare. In fact, I would not have stopped at all accept that I was famished. Well, not really famished, but I certainly was hungry having eaten only one meal on the day. I knew my body was going to rebel against a hard ride anyway, so I wasn't going to give it another reason to quit by racing on an empty stomach.

So, I inhaled half of my bowl of black bean soup before standing up to rush out with the mocha as soon as the young lady had prepared it. I was in and out in 6 minutes. Or so I thought. A man sitting next to me asked me to help him install his new Norton Antivirus on his laptop. Go ahead and laugh! I did! The poor guy had no way of knowing about my neanderthal computer abilities. Why and how I was able to read the instructions and tell him how to do it, I do not know. I laughed and shook my head thinking about the Geico caveman commercials. But the four minutes that took would turn out to be crucial.

It would be an outright lie to say that I did not attempt to speed all the way through Newburgh. I tried! But the cars in front of me would have none of it. They formed a perfect three-car wedge across the highway. Grrrrr! Luckily for me, those same cars continued through the construction zone east of town - and most of the way to Hatfield.

I pulled off of the road in Hatfield about fifty meters from the start/finish line. My watch said that I had less than four minutes to get to the line. Both Kristy and Faith were in the back of the RAV with only their front wheels removed. I chose Kristy, the '09 Kestrel Airfoil Pro, simply because she did not have a tool bag under the seat. I wonder now if Faith, equipped with Hed 3's, would have been faster on the flat course under the influence of 5-10 mph SSW winds.

While running to the start area I told Jeff, an old running friend and the guy in charge, that I did not want them to wait for me or to have me go out of line. Then I moved quickly to shed my pants and don my aero helmet and race number (which was quickly pinned to my back by an expert pinner who drew not a single drop of blood!). Then I hopped on Kristy and road a short loop of a couple hundred meters.

When I returned to the line Jeff told me that I would be started as soon as the next rider finished.

Once rolling, I was surprised at how peppy my legs felt. I clicked off the first mile in 2:10 - hey, I'm a runner, so that is how I think. Everything was working well as I shifted through the first couple of turns and hit miles in the 2:1x's. I knew I had a tailwind, so I surmised that I would suffer greatly on the return as the wind and fatigue from the Mini would surely unite and rise up against me in the closing miles.

At about 1.5 miles I steered Kristy across a steel grid bridge surface. Oops! Tires danced and slid side to side while the rims gently bottomed out several times. Oops! In my rush I did not even think of inflating my tires. Since the bikes had been in the RAV for hours on a hot day, I had lowered the pressure that morning. The front had maybe 50 psi and the back less, maybe 40 psi. Dang!

As the miles passed I caught up to a few of the riders in front of me. One of those riders was a 12-year-old boy who was showing some great form and grit near the turn-around.

The wind did attack me, but it was minimal. And the fatigue did set in, challenging my form and making me want to stomp on the pedals, but I resisted. A couple of the splits hit the upper 2:2x's and I got really mad. I'm certain many cyclists know what I mean when I say the fire was burning in my thighs and arse. Luckily, it was burning hotter in my mind.

The dancing tires on the bridge did not surprise me on the return. A minute later I made the last right-hand turn into an arrow-straight mile long stretch of road to the finish. I ignored the building pain, clinched the aero bars tightly, and started concentrating on smooth powerful pedaling as I steered Kristy toward the finish line. The last mile was as fast as my first - 2:10.

The total time for the 12-mile ride was 27:39 for a 26 mph average. Though it was not a stellar time, I am more than happy with it since I have ridden less than two dozen times since the thug attack of last August. I am more than satisfied with my overall fitness and extremely happy with my ability to fend off pain. I will have to ignore much worse pain in the upcoming months.

This was a well-run, low-key event that can be described as fun. It was also, for me anyway, therapeutic.

I am thankful to be able to ride at all, let alone fast. When I consider the lingering nerve damage from the attack las August and having recently had more skin cancer removed from my body, I am taking nothing for granted. I also do not want to sit idle while my life passes by. And I want to GO FAST whenever I can!!

The Hammer I won and the award I gave myself!

Throughout the ride this Paul Thorn song played in my head , , ,

Indy Mini Report

2011-05-08T14:48:00.011-05:00

Thirty-five thousand is a large number, especially when it is the number of people standing behind the start line of a race. Until Saturday I had never participated in America's largest half marathon. With my training already devoted to the two CO fifty milers, I knew that I was not properly prepared for a strong effort in a half marathon, so I decided to treat it as a training run and hold to an honest and even pace. And that was what I did, most of the time. What fun!

Race day weather was near perfect; cool, light winds, and cloud cover. A low pressure system was moving in and it was a bit humid. (Rain fell for about ten minutes 90 minutes after the start.)

I entered Corral A and took a position about forty feet back from the start line. Gene Mesker, a running friend for thirty years, appeared beside me just before the start. We wished each other well as the announcer led the crowd in a NASA-like countdown to the start.

During the first mile I found myself talking to Sarah, another running friend. A major goal for the day was to make certain I did not go out too hard. A first mile of 5:57 was slower than I anticipated, but I smiled at the fact that my pace goal for the day was to average 5:57-6:00 per mile. No time lost or gained on the first mile.

The next four miles were a different story. By holding to the crowd around me, I went through several 5:4x miles to cover the first five in 29:17. It was then, after five miles and with the Indianapolis Motor Speedway dominating the horizon, that I decided to slow down to my goal pace. From that point on I ran each mile between 5:55 and 6:04.

The 6:04 was the result of my poor feeding abilities. I ate an Espresso Gel just before an aid station during the seventh mile. It was pathetic! I broke stride while taking the gel, while grabbing the water, and while drinking the water. The group of runners I had been running with were suddenly about thirty feet ahead of me. The 5:55 8th mile was a result of my frustration. Interestingly enough, the other two miles over 6 minutes occurred when I took aid. I better work on that!

After going through 10 miles in 59:15, I easily held onto the 6 minute pace until as I finished in 1:17:59 by my watch and a rounded up 1:18 by chip time - which shouldn't matter at all, but it does. (Why is that?) I should have sprinted harder near the humorous ending!

It was as I approached the finish line of the Victory Mile that the announcer, standing on the roadway, leaned in and congratulated a guy sitting on his couch at home. I smiled and put my arms up as I kept the 6 minute pace. And, while I was doing this, two people came sprinting past me! A woman passed me on the left and a man on the right. The announcer became excited and asked if the guy on the couch could respond. They both admitted a few minutes later that they were going for each other and, more importantly, that 1:18 mark. (Why do we do that?)

I burst into a sprint that was blocked when they veered toward each other. I redirected left and dug a little deeper, passing both of them within meters of the finish line. If I had been paying attention to the clock I would have picked it up earlier, making that final sprint and the 1:18 mark nonexistent. Oh, well. It was fun to engage that seldom seen gear.

My friend, Jeremy, and 24 other members of his extended family, including his 86-year-old grandmother, Gertrude, competed in the 5K and Mini that day. They were interviewed by an Indy Star reporter whose piece was in today's paper. Jeremy won the family race and set a PR by finishing in 1:22:37. It was a fine day for the Aydt family.

Something I found most exciting about the Mini was the fact that I encountered so many friends in the huge crowd. Before the day was finished I had met up with more than two dozen old friends that I came to know through running and multisport. Friendships always brighten a day!

The post-race party was awesome. Bands played on two stages. A few dozen tents of varying sizes were set up for businesses and organizations. I came across a Purdue tent where I logged my race information and collected a tasty real fruit popsicle. Then I found Bob Kennedy's Running Co./Bluemile tent where I had a fantastic meal that included a some veggie burgers and great tasting beer. I am usually not a big fan of beer after hard efforts, but I have to admit that I went back for seconds and thirds.

I really have come to like the half marathon distance. This was my sixth half marathon in the last seven months. It was another memorable experience that included a first-class race and continuation of many long-standing friendships. And it was a confidence building day for me as I look 6 weeks forward to the SJS50.

Rolling Along

2011-05-04T19:33:00.001-05:00

It's been far too long between posts. Things are going well for me lately. The training has gone along quite well, despite Mother Nature's repeated attempts to flood my world. My life has been busy and full as I have been wearing many hats, including those of track coach, robotics sponsor, and help session host while trying to fit in the training.

There have been no trips or races of note since the JD Oak Barrel Half last month. My athletic endeavors have been limited to squeezing in all of my intended runs and half of my rides between rain storms. That record month of rain put a damper on my cycling comeback. That's OK. I don't have any scheduled goals regarding pedaling until the end of the summer, and even that one is iffy. My main goals for 2011 are still the pair of 50 milers I'll run in Colorado.

Reviewing my training log this morning I came to the conclusion that my training has gone well in the last month. I am not super fit, but I have begun to build a solid running foundation for this summer. Each week has seen me finish 100-140 minute runs at about 7-minute pace on hilly courses. Each week has also included some solid pace work in running shoes and on the bike. Again, the cycling is far from race worthy, but I am starting to push the pedals hard after only 15 rides since my forced six-month layoff.

What is next? I will test my fitness on Saturday by throwing down a training run over the half marathon distance. It should be interesting and I will certainly post about it on Sunday. Then I will travel to Chicago to move Brandon home on May 13. While there I intend to rise with the sun on the 14th and put in a long run on the lake shore pathway. If life goes well, I will be able to log some long trail miles on the 15th. Then, hopefully, I will return to NC at the end of May to log some mountain miles in preparation for the San Juan Solstice 50 Miler.

Big runs with big vertical are coming. I've got to get ready. Meanwhile, this half marathon addiction is nearing a critical point.

Jack Daniels Oak Barrel Half Marathon

2011-04-04T19:37:00.004-05:00

I will start this post by stating that this race provided a unique and thoroughly enjoyable experience. Not only do I intend to run it again, I highly recommend this race to anyone interested in running half marathons.

The Oak Barrel Half Marathon starts and finishes in Lynchburg, TN where the world famous Jack Daniels whiskey is made. Lynchburg is located about an hour due south of Nashville and an hour due west of Chattanooga, not far from the Alabama state line. Lynchburg is located, really, nowhere near anything other than the distillery. And that is a wonderful thing! As the townsfolk will be quick to tell you, the town of less than 6000 inhabitants is located in a hollow. A hollow that is surrounded by big hills that are currently blanketed with budding forests and active farms. The area is quintessential rural America.

I traveled to this race with my good friend and all-around great guy, a country boy himself, Jeremy Aydt. We've known each other since the late 90's. Jeremy is a teacher (5th grade), coach, and long-time runner who has been busy getting back into the sport after a layoff. After school on Friday we met for a quick dinner at Fazoli's before making the three-hour drive to the Marriott hotel Franklin, TN. (Free night from points earned on a Marriott Rewards Visa - no monthly balance :)

We were more than pleased to find that the hotel sat mere feet away from a Bosco's Restaurant and BREWERY where we each topped off our glycogen storage with a stout.

On the morning of the race we drove a little more than an hour to Lynchburg. Though we had originally planned to check out the notorious Whiskey Hill that would challenge us for the duration of the fifth mile, our arrival in Lynchburg caused us to stay put. Cars carrying 1000 runners, many of whom traveled with their families, were flooding into the town from all directions for the sold out race. I'll bet that the tourists venturing into town that morning were more than a little surprised by the closed roads, lane restrictions, and jittery skinny people. Jeremy and I decided that entering town one time would be enough.

Four porta john visits later (metabolism still not normal) I was jogging to the line, as is my custom, with minutes to spare. As promised, the race started at 8 sharp. Jeremy and I wished each other well with a fist butt a few seconds into the race. We were each now alone with our thoughts as we wound our way toward an insanely steep stretch of country road.

It was an absolutely perfect morning for a race. Jeremy had pointed out a flag that was pointing at the ground while we paused for the start under a cloudless sky. That still air would be pushed aside by a headwind during our last three miles and that headwind became a menacing force of nature before the awards were all handed out. The temperature was climbing through the 40's, but would only be in the low 60's when we finished.

I had studied the course profile and predicted my splits before I left. (Sick that way!) My predicted splits varied from 5:45 to 7:25. No, the Oak Barrel course is not a flat PR course. I passed through the first two mostly flat miles in 11:40 in the lead group of four. Then the climbing began with a short steep climb early in the third mile that was followed immediately by a short downhill. The four of us separated at that point and I was the trailing runner. Then the climbing began. See the course map and profile here. I knew we would continue climbing from about 2.6 miles until 5.4, with the five mile mark residing just beyond the steepest part of Whiskey Hill.

Glancing at my heart rate monitor from time to time, I knew I was working hard as the three runners in front of me spread out from each other and pulled away from me. I passed the four mile mark in 24:02. I did not see the leader again after the sharp turns of Whiskey Hill. The runner in second place pulled about 45 seconds ahead of me while the third place guy achieved a seven second lead on me at the top of Whiskey Hill. I ran the fifth mile in 7:15, which was ten seconds faster than I thought I would. I later learned that the winner, George Heeschen (1:17:22), climbed that mile in 6:50.

Whiskey Hill embodied all of the challenge we had read and heard about it. The 300 feet of climbing was nothing when compared to the climbs I had recently completed in the NC mountains, but it was the most formidable challenge I have faced in thirty-two years of road racing. The switchback near the summit was so steep that I found it necessary to ask a photographer perched there why he had not installed a ladder. Two loudspeakers sitting on the ridge above the switchback belted out "Eye of the Tiger" as I climbed. That helped. Jeremy reported that his encouraging song was "Highway to Hell."

Once on top of Whiskey Hill we were treated to several rolling hills along the meandering country road. It was on the short and steep downhills that two things happened to me. First, I caught and passed the guy in third while I also slowly reeled in the guy (who I thought was an over-40 like me) running in second place. Second, I felt a twinge in my right hamstring. I had been nursing a sciatic pinch for a few days. The pain and tightness had been mostly confined to my arse, but the long drive made the pain and tightness extend into the hamstring. All had seemed fine for the first eight miles, but one super steep downhill at 8.4 miles caused me to lengthen my stride beyond the working range of that hamstring.

The ham became progressively tighter as I ran the mostly downhill roads into the finish. Bummer, I did run miles 9 and 10 in 11:40, but I did not achieve the downhill 5:45's that I had hoped to. I was, however, slowly reeling in Eric Charette, the runner in second place. Eric had begun to check his watch - a lot. And he had looked back several times. He was slowing, but was he just biding his time. I wondered if I could catch him. At mile 11.6 I received the answer to the question as I ran through the last aid station. John Thorpe (36) caught me from behind. I was surprised because I rarely look back while racing and because I had only slowed to six minute pace.

I went with him as he passed me and I kept the pace until the pain in the hamstring reached my threshold. This wasn't worth a pulled hamstring that would haunt me for a month. It was with a touch of envy that I watched him pull away and then pass Charette during the thirteenth mile. My time of 1:20:54 was a bit slower than I had hoped for, but it only put a tiny dent in the euphoria of the morning. The sun was shining and Jeremy finished in 1:28:47, well under his goal of 1:30. He is progressing at a rate that should have him beating me by the end of the year.

We quickly took in some calories and fluid before walking over to get our one-hour free tour of the Jack Daniels distillery. That tour, a history lesson and comedy tour rolled into one, was a treat! When asked how a person can become a JD taster, our gregarious tour guide responded, "Well, it takes years to acquire the skills of a taster. But, of course, as a taster you have to spit the whiskey out. It is after you have swallowed two times that you become a tour guide."

This race was put on by a running club called Mach Tenn. They carried out a fantastic race. Entrants had all of the information about the race available on the race website. We received emails leading up to the race. They had a Facebook page. There were six aid stations along the course. We received a long-sleeved tech shirt, a race cap, and a unique wood finisher's "medal." The awards were made from actual Jack Daniels whiskey barrels. I must admit that I had heard of the previous year's awards and was expecting a full barrel lid for beating all of the other old men (masters). The planck cut from a stave (side board of a barrel) is more than sufficiently unique to be kept by this trophy rejector. The commemorative American Forests and Mr. Jack's 160th Birthday bottles of whiskey picked up at the distillery topped off the booty list!

So, I recommend that next year at this time you round up a good friend and drive into the southern hills of Tennessee until you come to a hollow where the cows are smiling and the sweet aroma of spent grains fills the air. Look up high on the hills until you find a few that are spotted with large rectangular gray buildings. That is where the Jack is made. And it is also near the end of a looping run that will take you to hell and back.

Check out the prize between the hardware.

NC Training Camp Wrap-up

2011-04-04T10:59:00.001-05:00

I've received a few messages asking about the totals on my short spring break training trip in the NC mountains. By my normal training standards, it was huge. In three days I ran 40 miles with 11,200 ft of climbing and I rode 84 miles with 12,400 ft of climbing. Combined with the training I completed at home that week, the totals were 53 miles of running and 116 miles of cycling.

I also visited some interesting tourist destinations, including the Folk Art Center on the BRP, the Biltmore Estate, Maggie Valley, NC, several art galleries, and 4 microbreweries. The Folk Art Center is a component of the original vision of the BRP, which included "points of interest" spaced approximately every thirty miles along the parkway. It is worth the visit. The Biltmore is costly ($29+ dollars per head), but most worthy because of the quantity and nature of the continuing history of the estate. I found it most fascinating that a small fraction of the Vanderbilt fortune was used to create and preserve this 8000+ acre estate and the Pigsah National Forest, which was the first nationally protected forest.

In short, I saw a variety of regional art, listened to talented musicians playing alternative and Old Time music, drank great bear, and trained long and hard. It was a memorable trip.

Green Knob to Mt. Mitchell

2011-04-03T19:10:00.006-05:00

The steep switch-back climb up Green Knob from the BRP passes easily as I try to keep the pace honest. I am a little surprised to find that the trail to the fire tower has been worked on. There are support rocks and steps all along the way and the switch backs themselves have been bolstered with rocks and timbers. Perhaps that is why I climb this short, near-vertical section much faster than the previous two times.

This climb allows me to conclude that my legs are fresh and peppy. They are, in fact, much stronger than I thought they would be after the big day on Monday and the relaxed day of morning training - 8 gentle trail miles and 30 bike miles on the "flattest" section of BRP around.

Wood planks, a generator, and a few other construction materials strewn about he clearing around the fire tower indicate that it is under renovation. I snap a couple of pictures of the scene before beginning the 2.5-mile, 2200-ft descent of Green Know to Black Mountain Campground.

The sky is perfectly clear and the temperature at a mile of altitude is in the mid-40's as I negotiate the rocky outcroppings of the super steep upper segment of Green Knob. The Knob is actually such a technical descent that I am forced to scramble over rocks and use trees for "guidance" as I basically fall down from the top. I love it!

Not open for business

I hear chainsaws as I move into the less steep lower reaches of the descent just above the campground. I later learn that a crew is removing downed trees on the other side of the campground. The campground is closed for the season. The gates are locked and all of the signs are covered with black plastic. I am pleased to see that I have descended seven minutes faster than I did last year. It is noticeably warmer at 3000 ft, so I remove my shirt when I stop to retrieve a pack of Gu Chomps.

The lack of foliage on the trees leaves me baking in the sun as I begin the six-mile climb up Mt. Mitchell. I am glad I took the shirt off, since I do not intend to get dehydrated on the run. I encourage myself to run every runnable step, which I expect to include almost all of my strides. It is not long before I rise and cross over a ridge where the sounds generated by high winds replace the whining of the chainsaws. The sun is still warm, but the wind leaves me chilled. Perfect!

Barely Runnable

Last of the snow.

As I reach the higher elevations of Mt. Mitchell the winds increase and the temperature decreases. Sweat from my hat drips onto the goosebumps on my arms. Finally reaching the dense spruce and fir forest where the trail becomes much more level, I open up my stride and begin to run as if I were on the roads. This section of trail has been etched into my memory as one of the most beautiful and enjoyable places I have ever run. The thought occurs to me that this section of trail makes all of the work of this long run worthwhile. I feel blessed to have the ability to run through such sensory-effecting place.

Several areas of deep snow and ice hide the trail as it meanders around the north side of the summit. Just before I pop out on the asphalt summit trail I encounter the first people I've seen all day. A family of five passes gingerly over an ice-covered rock outcrop as I bound through. The mother informs her children that I am being careless and dangerous. And she doesn't even know of my tripping skills!

The previous evening, just before a big black bear ran in front of me as I drove to my campsite, I had placed three bottles of water near a signpost below the summit. They are gone! This is NOT good. All of the services at the summit are closed for the season. The restroom is locked and the water fountains are turned off.

The Garmin indicates that it has taken me just over two hours to reach the summit of Mt. Mitchell from the BRP. This is significantly less time than the same journey last June. I have mixed emotions as I continue running up the spiral walkway above the summit. The air is quite cool, maybe 55 degrees, and the wind is blowing 25-35 mph at the summit, so I quickly put the shirt back on.

It is while munching on another package of Gu Chomps that a joins me on the tower. We greet each other and I learn that his name is Sid. Sid is limping and wearing sandals that reveal several strips of white tape on each foot. He tells me that he acquired "many, many blisters" the previous day when he climbed this mountain.

I tell Sid about my missing water. He points to the ranger station/visitors' center about a mile down the asphalt road and suggests that I run over there to get water. He said he stopped there on this drive to the summit parking lot. I tell him that I came from the BRP and that I did not want to make that round trip before descending on the trail. Sid breaks the seal on the water bottle in his hand and shrugs, "They would probably give you water."

A distant source of water?

Slightly miffed, I walk away. Sid follows. At the bottom of the viewing tower I ask him to take my summit photo. He snaps a few pics while I smile and fantasize about going Chuck Norris on his ass with a spinning round kick to his head. I see my right foot contacting his left cheek before I continue the spin and catch both my camera and his water bottle. I am certain that I can get away, given the condition of his feet.

I sip from the tube of the Nathan just before he hands me the camera. It makes an "I'm empty" gargling sound.
"You do need some water, don't you?"
"Yep. "
"Good luck." Then he screws the cap off of his water bottle and takes another drink.
"Thanks. Take care of those feet."

Chuck Norris spinning through my mind!

I begin the run back down the mountain very thankful that it is such a cool day. I know I will be thirsty when I get back to the RAV.

The descent of Mt. Mitchell goes much better than I expect. My feet move swiftly and deftly as they find the best landing spots. I find myself both surprised and pleased with my trail running agility.

Only when I see the white government vehicles of the trail crew do I realize how fast I have descended this rugged trail. What a day! This has gone much better than last summer! And I haven't even stubbed my toe once!!

The toe grabbers!

It is at the moment of that thought that I look at my watch - and catch my right toe on a root. Several floundering strides over a myriad of roots later I catch the left toe on another root. I crash hard on all fours before I bounce and skid to a stop. Inspection of the damage reveals that I have contusions on my left knee and right palm. There are several abrasions on my forearms and shins. Dang! I was so close!

My stride returns to normal before I finish crossing the campground. I am sore, but my parts seem to be working. And that is a good thing since the brutal climb up Green Knob awaits me. As with the Mt. Mitchell ascent, I intend to run as much of this climb as possible.

The Green Knob trail post.

I manage to run the vast majority of steep trail up the Knob. It is on this climb last summer that I completely came apart and struggled to the summit. Not on this day. The climb comes surprisingly easy to me. Perhaps this is because I keep thinking about the water, orange juice, and organic fruit and protein Bolthouse smoothies stored in the RAV. I really want to get there as fast as possible.

The sounds of hammers and saws serve as a welcome greeting me as I approach the top. The work crew is busy repairing the fire tower. I glance at my watch and find that I have, once again, crushed last year's time for another section of this run.

The culprits after much scrubbing.

The family enjoying a picnic lunch at the Green Knob overlook freeze when they see me. Jaws dropp and eyes express concern. I glance down and notice that the cut on my has bled A LOT. That blood is all over my forearm, my once tan shirt, and my right thigh. Furthermore, the knee had bled even more. That blood, still running, has reached my shoe. I smile and wave at them as I proclaim, "This is a wonderful day, isn't it!?"

While I turn the key in the door of the RAV I see my reflection in the glass. I had, apparently, used that bloody right hand to wipe sweat from my brow during the climb. It appears as if I had suffered a nasty head wound. That poor family. I hope all of them keep their lunches down. They did leave rather abruptly.

I spend thirty minutes shoving food and fluids into my mouth while I rest on a cooler and look out over the mountains of the Blue Ridge. Then I decide that I want to enjoy a lot more of that view with Faith. I change clothes and climb on her for an exhausting 40-mile ride that includes 6200 vertical feet of climbing.

That ride satiates my thirst for outdoor activities. I clean up and drive back to Asheville for another afternoon and evening of big eating. I declare the trip a peak experience when I plop down at the bar of the Jack of the Wood to enjoy an evening of live Old Time music. And get this, the night and the great music are prolonged by a nasty storm that keeps almost everyone locked in their seats.

What a day! What a night! What an peak experience!

The first of three shifts of players at Jack of the Wood's Old Time Round up. Great music!

Mt. Sterling Revisited

2011-03-27T00:19:00.009-05:00

A cool breeze carries the collective and distinctive odors of the Appalachian ferns, rhododendrons, mosses, evergreens, and last season's rotting foliage on this crisp first day of spring. I run almost one mile along the narrow, gently sloping gravel road that leads up to the Big Creek Campground and Picnic Area. This road serves as a great warm-up for a run up Mt. Sterling via the 6.2-mile Baxter Creek Trail, which is regarded as one of the most difficult climbs in the Smokies.

When I cross Big Creek on one of the finest trail bridges in all of the GSMNP I hit the lap button on the Garmin. While I have no intentions of pushing the pace on this climb, I do intend to run every step. I want to know my current level of climbing fitness. Both of the 50's I've entered this summer involve significant climbing - at altitude. At 5820 ft, Mt. Sterling will not prepare me for the CO altitude, but the 4200 feet of vertical gain in 6.2 miles will serve as excellent testing/conditioning for my climbing legs.

I've been to the summit of Mt. Sterling more than a dozen times dating back to 1990 when I first explored the east end of the park by "speed hiking" 131 miles in four days with a 25-lb pack on. I've slept on the summit seven times, with six of those nights coming in the month of December. My love and obsession with reaching mountain summits is, in some part, due to the challenges I've faced when climbing this peak with a backpack in the snow. If you have read my blog post titled "Winter Solace" you know that last December I finally realized a longtime goal of running to the summit with significant snow on the ground.

It is said that climbing such a mountain in the southern Appalachians will allow the climber to see changes in flora that are equivalent to traveling one thousand miles north. So, I am moving southwest while experiencing a northern journey. I tell myself to relax as I begin the run between a Catawba rhododendron-covered cliff on the left and Big Creek on the right. While the mountain scenery changes every time I visit, there are numerous landmarks, like this cliff, that serve as progress markers. I know that not far from the end of the cliff this trail will bend left and enter a steep watershed where the real climbing begins.

Though I try to keep my eyes on the trail to navigate through the countless roots and rocks, I cannot help peeking up to identify the trees close to the trail. Their bark allows me to recognize birch, hemlock, tulip, maple, and oak trees. The forest floor, which was completely white in December, is now turning several shades of green as the lichens, mostly clubmoss, and ferns are quite prevalent. I am surprised at how quickly I arrive at the first crossing of the trail namesake, Baxter Creek. This is the area where I saw the large bear tracks in December.

I check the Garmin from time to time in order to monitor my heart rate. Though I have several "gadgets," I am really only addicted to the comparison of my heart rate to my pace as a measure of efficiency. Improving running performance is really that simple. I intend to run every step of this climb, but I expect the pace to vary significantly with the changes in slope and the challenge of the obstacles along the trail as I try to maintain a comfortable heart rate.

As the miles pass by I drink from the tube of the Nathan 1.5-L pack I am testing. This should be plenty of water on this day in which I will experience moderate temperatures ranging from the mid-40's to the upper-60's. I drank a 16-oz bottle of water and some orange juice before I started. I also have a gel and some Gu Chomps to add to the organic blueberries and banana I ate when I woke up.

On several occasions I pass backpackers who are on their way down the mountain after sleeping on the summit. It must have been a busy night up there! I also pass two young men who are on their up to the summit. Each group of climbers I encounter reacts similarly. Heads swing around. Eyebrows raise slightly. We make eye contact. It is difficult to gauge their responses, but it seems that more of them are amused than impressed. Am I just another half-crazed runner who is trying to be bear bait? I greet each group with a hearty "good morning" as we squeeze by each other on the narrow trail.

When I first glimpse the summit knob I have to look up several times to convince myself that it is actually the summit. A couple of peeks at my watch convince me that I have not, indeed could not, be approaching the actual summit. I am not tired. I am as agile as normal - not much there, but I still possess what I came in with. My legs are still quite springy. And I have only been climbing a little more than an hour. Furthermore, I have not tripped or stubbed my toe one time, so I am not bleeding. I focus once again on the forest. Most of the trees I see are evergreens, namely spruce and hemlock.

Within a short distance of what I believe to be a false summit spotting, I grasp a limb of an evergreen as I pass it. I grip it loosely and let it slide through my fingers. It is quite soft. A fir. I smell my hand. Definitely a fir. I repeat that sequence of events a couple more times. All firs. Wow! I am high enough to be approaching the summit. Then I see a rock overhang that I recognize. I always thought this would be a great place to wait out a storm. Then I passed this place in that December blizzard and found that it is a great collection point for blowing snow.

Knowing this overhang is near the summit, I get an adrenaline rush and pick up the pace - significantly. Then I pass the signpost for the spring that I have often used to refill my water bottles. A half-mile to go. I cannot believe how fresh I feel. I accelerate and find another gear and soon pass through a small patch of evergreens that I know are a gateway to the summit.

Then I see the iron legs of the old fire tower right in front of me. I stop the watch as I pass the stone bearing the summit marker in the sunlit patch of grass next to the fire tower. Several young men who are leaving to refill water bottles ask me if I ran all the way up the mountain. I say yes. One of them asks how long it took me and I look at the watch. I have run up Baxter Creek Trail, the trail I refer to as the toughest 10K I've ever encountered, in just under 1:19.

I climb the steep tower stairs while discussing the ongoing NCAA basketball tournament with these Ohio State students. Once inside the tower cabin I eat a package of Gu Chomps and drink water before taking several pictures. I also call my friend, Jeremy who is visiting Chicago with his father and a friend. The tower is about ten feet taller than most of the surrounding trees, so the 360-degree view on this sunny day is breathtaking. Yes! This is my reward.

My descent from the tower after only about five minutes is encouraged by the goosebumps created by the stiff winds whipping through the broken cabin windows. I yell "Take care, Buckeyes" to the young men hidden among the evergreens and smile after a "Boiler Up!" comes back to me. Then I hit the watch and begin the descent.

Once again, I remind myself to move slowly - and carefully. Running down steep root- and rock-strewn trails like Baxter Creek can cause bodily injury. Trust me. I know this well. I remind myself that I tend to bleed on descents and I tell myself to maintain a pace that will allow me to minimize the damage. Yes, minimize. I hold no false beliefs. I know my limits. I am aware of my uncanny ability to find ways to create leaks in my epidermal layer. I will bleed, but I will do my best to minimize the bloodshed.

Descending the Colorado 14ers is almost always much faster than ascending. That is partially due to the altitude, but it is also due to the fact that, other than being relatively steep, many of those trails do not have many obstacles to impede motion. Appalachian trails, to the contrary, are rarely smooth. There are roots and embedded rocks all along the way. And these toe grabbers are usually partially or completely hidden under fallen leaves. The southern Appalachians do not have tree lines, so the smooth sailing alpine descents found on many 14ers simply do not exist in the Smokies. As a result, the differences in my ascent and descent times are usually minimal, so I expect to make it back to the Big Creek Picnic Area in about 70 minutes.

After descending more than halfway down the trail I encounter two young men I had passed on the way up. One of them asks how far I had made it up the mountain. "To the top of the fire tower." They look at me in disbelief. I stop and we talk for several minutes. I learn that they are students at Taylor University in Indiana. One is from Fort Wayne, IN and the other is from Grand Rapids, MI. Like the Buckeyes on the summit, these two backpackers are polite and respectful. Talking to these two young men is one of the highlights of my day. I love meeting people who share my love for the mountains.

It is not long after parting ways with the Taylor students that I find myself flying along on the less steep slope of the lower portion of the Baxter Creek Trail. I catch my right toe (almost always my right toe!) on a root and stumble forward for several strides before regaining control. That was close!! Focus and slow down. The greatest reward you can earn today is the satisfaction of not falling down.

Both of my hands fire into the air a la Rocky Balboa as I cross the bridge at the trail head. I am completely intoxicated by the experience. My legs feel fine. I have descended in 56 minutes. I HAVE NOT FALLEN DOWN!

Only briefly do I entertain the idea of turning around and going back up. The mere thought of the upcoming monster round trip run from the Blue Ridge Parkway to the summit of Mt. Mitchell erases any ambition to test my limits on this first run. I run back down the gravel road at six minute pace in a state of euphoria.

A post-run meal consisting of organic cereals, fruits, and two protein/veggie smoothies is followed by a quick change into cycling clothes. I find it impossible to suppress the excitement as I drove back to I-40. The windows are down, the sunroof is open and I am singing along with the Avett Brothers.

After leaving the interstate I drive through a dilapidated and somewhat depressing Maggie Valley. The recession seems to have had a huge impact on the economy of the area. Within minutes, I cross under the Blue Ridge Parkway and take the ramp up to it. There is no plan here. I am simply looking for a place to ride Faith, my beloved old Kestrel.

I park at the Wooly Back overlook (elev. 5425 ft) and remove Faith from her bindings in the back of the RAV. Having been here before, I am aware of the fact that I am near Waterrock Knob (elev. 6295 ft). I take a couple of pictures before mounting Faith. We have traveled many miles together on the Blue Ridge Parkway. With her heavy but very aerodynamic 650 HED3 wheelset, she makes climbing difficult, but she descends those mountain roads with breathtaking ease.

I grind Faith's 21/54 gear (hey, I've never owned anything smaller!) for a little over a mile up to Waterrock Knob. Then the fun begins! I go into wind tunnel mode as I adjust my position to reach maximum speed - 40, 43, 46, 49, 51, 52 mph. What an adrenaline rush! The rapid 6-mile descent into Balsam Gap allows me to click three successive miles in 1:19, 1:21, and 1:16. Then I come to my senses. I've got to ride back up this mountain!

I turn the bike around and begin the six mile grind back up to Waterrock Knob. The grade varies from 7-11% on this climb. I can only smile as I mash the pedals, propelling the bike upwards and into the wind. While I may have descended slowly enough on Mt. Sterling to save my quads, I am finding that they are quite fatigued. As I climb I notice something I had not noticed on the way down. There are dozens of varying sized boulders lying on the edge of the road at several places where the road path had been blasted from the side of the mountain ridge. And now I look up constantly as I believe that I am moving so slowly that I am an easy target.

On the way to Asheville for a well-earned meal I reflect back on a day that has gone much better than I had expected. I ran well - faster than I ever have on that "strenuous" trail. My hands, knees, and face never kissed the trail - a FIRST! And my tired quads and glutes managed to keep pushing those pedals at the same rpm for miles up the BRP. I have climbed more than 4200 feet on foot and 3900 feet on the bike. Amazingly, I am not very tired. And what a difference this feeling is than the one I felt after my last run, two days earlier, which was one of the worst running experiences of my life.

The pizza and beer in Asheville are going to taste SWEET!

Appalachian Recharge

2011-03-25T17:50:00.000-05:00

Spring break for a teacher can lead to many opportunities. Spring cleaning - check. Property work - check. A chance to recharge the mind and spirit to a level required to sustain us in our multifaceted, high-energy, and life-consuming jobs - check. Well, the property work and cleaning have been started, but neither is complete. My position is that those tasks can never really be complete, so I tend to them on a regular basis as a matter of maintaining an equilibrium whose balance favors "looks good" and "not dilapidated."

The recharging is another matter, completely. I sleep when I can and rest as life permits. A day filled with movement can be as relaxing and energizing as any nap while also being more fulfilling than a day engaged in sedentary activities such as watching TV or tapping a keyboard. (Hey . . . wait a minute . . .) A person simply has to know which activities will bring them a peace of mind.

If you are reading this blog you already know that it was created because I want to share with others how I find that inner peace through traveling, running, cycling, and hiking. You also know that I find happiness in hills, especially hills big enough to be called mountains. I love everything about the mountains; the smells, the wildlife, the streams, the challenges, and the people I meet. I was fortunate enough to be able to spend several days "relaxing" in the mountains of North Carolina this week.

The moment I arrived in Appalachia, as usual, I rolled down the windows and slowly breathed in the distinctively aromatic air. Not long after that I parked next to the Pigeon River so that I could stretch out my legs while I walked along the bank and thought of what the next few days had in store for me. The trip was not a long one, so I attempted to pack a lot of experiences into every day. I am writing a series of posts that look into the different aspects of the trip. I will be posting them as time permits over the next few days.

The Ultra Runner Within Me

2011-03-19T20:24:00.001-05:00

My involvement in ultra events during the last few years has introduced me to a unique breed of athlete. Typical ultra marathon fields, much like the bulk of the participants in local 5K, are not wiry and intense and seemingly malnourished. The typical ultra marathoner who might finish mid-pack in a 5K, however, is much more likely to beat the thoroughbreds in the long run. Reminiscent of the tortoise and the hare, the often thicker and older ultra runner is often more willing to simply plod along early and remain steady and obstinate in the face of the late-race suffering to hold on for a fine and respectable finish. Meanwhile, the speedster has a much greater likelihood of dropping out after their bold and risky early pace causes a dramatic crash or a race-ending injury.

Ken Chlubber of the Leadville Trail races first told me this in July of 2007. I had stopped by the LT shop when I was in town for the LT100 Training Camp. Ken's insight into the psyche of ultra runners allowed him to size me up within minutes. He asked about my endurance background and my ultra experience. Then he warned me that I fell dead center in the group of runners most likely to DNF the LT100. He told me to focus on hiking up and down the nearby mountains during my preparation. I told him that I had decided to enter the race after easily climbing both Mt. Massive and Mt. Elbert in one morning by climbing fast and running down. I also related how I planned to climb several of the 14ers, but he seemed concerned that those climbs would not be enough. He also warned me that it would be difficult to return from Indiana and be successful at the extreme altitudes presented by the LT100, especially if I went out too fast and put my body in a hole in the first few hours.

Over the next two days I ran with the lead pack of runners during the training camp. These were experienced, successful. and tough runners. And I hung right in there with them as we ran most of the LT100 course, including a double crossing of the 12,600-ft Hope Pass. And so I gained a lot of (false) confidence. Ken knew a lot about ultra runners, but he did not know me!

When I flew in for the mid-August race I bore even more confidence. I had just finished ten weeks of running an average of 80 miles per week while running only 3-4 days each week. I had logged more miles during those 10 weeks than I had during the entirety any of the previous 20 years. I was fit and strong and ready to finish my first 100 mile event. I ran comfortably along during the first 38 miles, constantly picking up places.

Unfortunately, while my leg was locked out, my right heel crashed hard on a stone while descending the steep and rocky road leading into the Twin Lakes Aid Station at 39.5 miles. It hurt a lot at the time, but I had forgotten about it by the time I left Twin Lakes. The climb from 9200 ft to 12,600 ft Hope Pass went as planned. It hurt! I power hiked more than half of it with a HR of about 145, which is the HR I have while running 6:40 pace on the roads.

I remembered the jammed knee as soon as I began descending the back side of Hope Pass. This winding and extremely steep trail drops about 3000 feet in three miles. It is brutal. I had descended it twice in training in 24 and 25 minutes while flying on the edge of control and using my hands on trees to keep me on the trail. During the race I could not run down Hope at all due to a sharp pain in my right knee. Once on the 3-mile gravel road that gently climbed to the turn around, I was able to go back to running. I passed many of the runners who had passed me while I walked down (ironically) the back side of Hope.

The knee continued to get worse, with the swelling becoming apparent as I was forced to walk back down that shallow road. Walking where I was supposed to be running caused a lot of frustration. Back at Twin Lakes (61.5 miles) I ate well, drank well, gathered my night gear for the coming darkness, and took two ibuprofen. Stopping had not entered my mind.

In the darkness that came as I was approaching Half Moon Rd. I regained the ability to run up and down. The ibuprofen was working. Then, near the tree line, with about a marathon to go, I was forced to walk again. I struggled to keep up with a group of runners by alternating shuffling and walking with a very stiff right leg. I hobbled into the pole barn-turned-aid station a little more than 19 hours after I started the LT100 with intentions of still breaking 25 hours.

When I reached the Fish Hatchery, I went through the normal motions. I ate hot soup and drank fluid. I was tired and sore, but I was nowhere near finished. Or so I thought. "That knee does not look good," said a paramedic. Looking at it for the first time in hours, I didn't recognize it as my own. My normally knobby knee was hidden within what the doctor guessed was 250-300 cc (mL) of fluid. It was as large as my quad.

"You want me to wrap it for you to push that fluid out and give it some room to move?"
"Yeah, sure."
After the wrapping I stood up and lost my breath.
"You sure you want to try to climb Sugarloaf on that?"
"Yeah."
I walked to the edge of the pole barn before remembering my second shirt. As I turned to get it I felt a pop in the knee and a sharp pain shot through my body.

When I woke up and my mind cleared a bit there were several people standing around me. My wristband was gone. I had been "cut" out of the race. Damn.

That was a defining moment in my life. I doubt that I would have entered another ultra in my life. If I had finished the LT100 that year I would have stuck with running road miles and hiking on trails. If I had finished the LT100 that year I would not have reached the point where I absolutely have to run on trails. I would not have gained the tranquility of early morning trail runs in snow, sweltering heat, blustery winds, and lots of mud.

I would not know of the many deer, foxes, turtles, and wild turkeys that move gingerly through the nearby forest at dawn. I would not have found the Canal Loop in Land Between the Lakes in Kentucky. I would not have been able to travel nearly as many miles in the mountains of Colorado, Tennessee, and North Carolina. And I certainly would not have realized the synergism of combining my loves of running and nature.

Lastly, without that painful LT100 failure, I would not have found the ultra runner within me.

A Train Wreck!

2011-03-13T22:32:00.002-05:00

It has certainly been a tough month for me! I have written about the virus I caught that kept me in bed with a high (103+) fever for most of a week. And I also told of the hilly half I put myself through immediately after I lost the fever. I was fine for a few days. Then I enjoyed a great run that included a lot of pace work on Tuesday March 1, which I followed immediately with a 13.1-mile (30 min) ride that stunned me after missing six months of cycling due to nerve damage in my right shoulder. All seemed good. Everything looked rosy for some fine spring training.

Within hours of the ride, however, I became feverish again. By the next morning it was back over 103. I ended up going to the doctor on Thursday and I was declared virus free. A bacterial infection was getting the better of me this time, so I received a z-pack antibiotic. The fever broke in the early morning hours of Friday March 4, so I went back to school (scene of crimes where germs run amok!).

By Friday night the fever was returning and it was accompanied by some awful intestinal sidekicks. On Saturday morning the glands in my neck were the size of large marbles, my tongue was swollen, and the fever was nearly back to 103. So I called the doctor and he switched me to another antibiotic. That was the first time in my life that I had a bad reaction to a drug. Unfortunately, it was a slow release antibiotic, so I had to deal with all of those side effects until Wednesday. By that time I was dealing with a cough that threatened to split my chest and abdomen.

Needless to say, I have not done a lot of training in the last three weeks. Sixteen miles in 19 days. So, when I saw that the weather was going to be so nice on Saturday, I decided to take in Nashville by following through on my entry into the Tom King Half Marathon. Honestly, I was curious how far my body had fallen during my time of infirmary. I promised myself that I would go out easy and back down if I felt unduly fatigued. I was going to enjoy a course, a race, and a brewery (Big River) that I have grown fond of.

I ran the first five miles in 30:02 and felt fine - as I had hoped, since this was 15 seconds per mile slower than I had originally intended to average under race conditions. I then ran a couple of 6:15s into the wind to pass through 7 miles in 42:30 (6:04 average). It was then that I started to fatigue. So I shut it down to my normal 6:4x training pace and finished up in about 1:23:30. Interestingly enough, no one passed me and those in front of me barely pulled away after I decided to slow down. I guess the headwind was having an effect.

In retrospect, the Tom King turned out to be very similar to the hilly 13.1 I ran a few weeks ago in training (1:24). Some people will criticize me for running after the illness. That is their prerogative. The doctor told me that I could start running 24 hours after the fever disappeared. It had been gone since Sunday. My only reservation to running on Saturday was the diarrhea that plagued me all week as the z-pack's damage continued to ravage my intestines. Five urgent trips to the john before the race and another near mile 10 kept me busy and probably resulted in some of that fatigue, but I am glad I made the trip. It was nice to run in the sunshine at 62 degrees and the pizza and beer were welcome stomach inhabitants after a week avoiding food. (I did consume a lot of yogurt and probiotic capsules!)

In closing I will write that I have read my stat report and see that this blog is getting 2-3 dozen hits every day. That is great! I also noticed that the traffic picked up after I started posting my training. I'm not sure why that is, because other than a few friends who text or call me about the posts, I've gotten little interaction from readers. Shy readers? Lurkers? I don't know and I don't really care. This blog is meant to entertain and inspire readers while allowing me to practice writing. I will continue to write about my traveling (mountains next week!!) and racing, but I plan to change the way I write about my training.

Take care and may you stay healthier and faster than me! ST

Weekly Recap Feb. 20-26 The Flu Bug Bites

2011-02-27T13:50:00.003-06:00

Friday 2-25
6 - 40:30 Yes, you read that right. Sigh. It is Friday and I almost enjoyed my first run in nearly a week. The flu bug that was being carried into school day after day finally caught up with me. And what a wicked little bug is was. It kept my temperature above 103 for almost three days while imposing a vision-impairing headache. Catching bacterial and viral infections is a primary health drawback for teachers, especially teachers at schools like mine where the students insist on coming to school while they are sick. Oh, well.

This a.m. run went well until I looked at my split after one mile. 7:08 Really!? It certainly felt faster. As I normally do in such instances, I set my battle lines and picked up the pace a little. The ambiance of this morning run around the near empty USI campus was as peaceful as normal. The strain and effort of the run went mostly ignored until I looked at the watch after finishing. As expected the HR was too high. Battling a bug, and the sedentary life that accompanies that fight, results in a significant curtailment of energy available for running.

The fever returned by early afternoon, so I ended up in bed for more than 12 hours.

Saturday 2-26
13 - 1:24:01 All of that rest seemed to help a lot. I still waited until late in the afternoon to run, though. I was prepared to turn around within the first mile, but I was also hopeful that I would be able to complete a long run. My highest ambition was to squeeze in some pace work in the second half of the run. Goal accomplished.

Running long and running hard meant that I risked another night with a fever. I chose to take that risk. Because it is now Sunday afternoon and the fever has not returned, I am glad I took the risk. That long/fast run took a lot out of me - more than it should have. But I did not fall ill again. Looking forward to a full week of running.

Weekly Total: 19 Miles (2:04:31)

Weekly Recap Feb. 13-19 - Canal Loop Test Run

2011-02-19T17:57:00.006-06:00

Sunday 2-13
10 - 1:10:11 Intended to go nice and easy for this one, but that only lasted a half mile. It was then that I started climbing the Stru Hill. This hill will become my life-line for the CO climbs. The front side climbs 86 feet in just under a quarter mile while the back side makes the same climb in just over an eighth of a mile. Hey, its all I've got! Up and down and up and down and . . .

After several round trips I found my way to more level ground where I started running 6:3x pace in a brutal wind. That felt good for several miles, but I stopped at 10 miles because I was beginning to tighten up. It was a good run for sure! Sunshine, blue sky, and only moderately muddy trails that were completely void of deer. Yeah, it was another pleasant run!

Tuesday 2-15
6 - 35:13 Another great day of pace work. I must relate that I am a little surprised about how good the legs are feeling while I am increasing the mileage so quickly. Of course, I have to work really hard on those legs between runs. Maybe that is part of getting old. I don't mind. In fact, I like the challenge of trying to maintain my limited ability for as long as possible.

The pace work portion of this run was just like last week - 4.5 miles in 25:11. It was slightly faster at a slightly lower HR, but that was likely due to the fact that the significantly warmer (48 F) temperature allowed me to wear shorts. What a fun run. This is definitely my favorite type of run - all alone and pushing the pace. I would be totally crushed should I ever be incapable a running hard enough to get the HR up there. Thirty years ago I saw myself as a life-long runner. Hopefully, I will still be running for another thirty years.

Thursday 2-17
7 - 49:02 Wow! Another warm (52 F) morning. This sunrise run came easily at the moderate pace I am running as I ramp up the distance. Because I have bounced back and forth between short/fast running and ultra running, I have also been forced to adjust my average training pace. The 7-7:15 pace I am using for most of my running right now is less intense than what I am accustomed to and, therefore, quite relaxing. These low-effort runs through interesting and varied terrain before the masses of people move in are quite therapeutic.

I haven't yet decided if I feel much different or any better than I would after my normal 19-minute 3-mile Thursday run. Slow and easy running is relaxing, but fast and intense running is spiritual. I guess any type of running will make me have a better day! The therapy will be complete when I get back on the bike.

Saturday 2-19 (Pictures coming when I get time.)
27 - 3:33:46 Finally! I made it down to Land Between the Lakes in Kentucky to run on the Canal Loop Trail. Two other planned trips this year had to be cancelled because snow and/or ice that fell heavily and then proceeded to melt quickly in warm air.

The trail and weather conditions were near perfect today. There were a few boggy spots, but the trail was mostly damp and soft. Though a light rain greeted me at the trail head, I felt only a few drops before the precipitation moved on to the southeast. I light wind was refreshing in the 50 F air.

This was my fourth trip to run on the Canal Loop. I learned of and began to train on the circuit during the winter of 2008. On two occasions I ran the LBL Trail Run Marathon route by running two circuits of the 11.3-mile single track plus enough to reach the marathon distance. Then, in March of 2008 I was one of a about 200 crazed pain seekers who refused to back down when a quick blizzard blew through the area, dropping 6-14 inches of snow, within a couple of hours of the 6 am start. Even the trip down there was challenging. I cursed the unplowed Kentucky Interstate before I passed one, then two, overturned salt/plow trucks. My little Matrix AWD found it relatively easy going.

The LBL Trail Runs consist of 4 concurrently run races in which the competitors run on an asphalt road for 1.6 miles from the tiny town of Grand Rivers to the north end of the Canal Loop Trail before running the circuit 1-4 times for distances of 14 Mi, 26.2 Mi, 60K, or 50 Mi. Runners are allowed to add or subtract loops during the race and still be counted among the finishers for the distance they run.

In 2008 I ran the 60K. The first loop involved running through snow that varied from 4 inches deep up to about 16 inches deep, depending on how it had drifted in the short but hearty blizzard. The snow had been packed down a bit by a weighted sled that had been pulled by a man named Bob Hall. I met Bob today as I began my run. What a kind and helpful man! He told me that he is training for the super tough Barkley 100 run in April. Good luck with that brutal course, Bob!

The second loop of the 2008 run was run in a narrow, sunken path that was formed by several hundred pounding feet. I thought it resembled a bob sled run. Though that little path was a bit slippery, it provided the best footing of the day. Underneath all of that snow was significantly warmer earth which melted the packed snow before I began the third loop. The result was a mud slurry that froze on running shoes that were in the 20 F air. Yes, my feet were painfully cold when I reached the finish back in Grand Rivers. (2nd place/5:26) That was my second ultra and it was certainly a memorable journey.

Today's run was a repeat of my two previous training runs in LBL. I ran the marathon distance to test my endurance. My legs passed the test, but my back did not. I have been suffering from sciatic pinching for about a month and that became noticeable just before I finished the second loop. That problem has existed since an accident in 1998. I simply failed to to what needed to be done to stop the pinching during the last several days. Now I will deal with a tight right hamstring for awhile.

The single track is a high-use trail that is open to hikers and mountain bikers. Some runners have trouble with bikers. I only pick bones with the few rude ones. Hell, I AM a biker. Well, I will be again soon! There were a couple dozen bikers out there today and many of them were struggling with (walking) the steep climbs on the Kentucky Lake side. Though Bob Hall was the only runner I saw while I was running, there were a few who were starting out just after I had finished.

What a fun run! I love that trail. It rolls gently up and down and back and forth on the Lake Barkley side and then weaves wildly back and forth and way up and way down on the Kentucky Lake side. There are about 1160 vertical feet of climbing per loop. I climbed more than 2500 feet during my run of 2+ loops today.

The first loop passed quickly and surprisingly easily in 1:31. I was taking it easy because I intend to run a race (LBL or Tom King Half) in just three weeks. After a quick pit stop at the RAV to get some calories and fluid, I covered the second lap in 1:33. I was actually about a minute ahead of the first lap pace for much of the second lap, but I slowed near the end due to the tightness in my back. Any running with the tight back causes hamstring pain, but pushing the pace creates long-lasting damage to that hamstring. (Does that sound like a voice of experience?) I hung from a tree branch to stretch the back at the end of the second loop and was then able to run the 4+ remaining miles at a higher pace than I had run all day.

The LBL Canal Loop provides a good test of trail running endurance. While today's result shows that my old legs are not yet in the shape they need to be in for successful 50 mile mountain runs, that result allowed me to gain quite a bit of confidence. It is now a few hours after the run and my legs feel like I ran a solid 12 or 13 miles on rolling roads. The way I bounded up the stairs when I returned home was not indicative of a 27 mile effort at sub-8 pace on a tough trail.

Training on the Canal Loop also allows my mind and lower legs to make the adjustment needed to transition into smooth and efficient trail running. The trail and its countless root and rock features are still buried under a layer of leaves, so an attentive mind is required to pick the best path. That attention will also help make the soles of the shoes, and not the palms of the hands, the contact points between me and Earth. During the second loop I passed a group of bikers who were walking their bikes up one of the steep climbs I heard one of them say, "Damn, he's passing us again. That guy must be Superman!" I chuckled, tapped the tat on my hip, and waved without looking back as I thought about guys like Krupicka and Roes who ARE supermen. Then, within seconds of passing them and rounding a curve, I caught a toe and went down onto my palms. It was my only snag of the day and it was positioned at just the right time to keep me humble.

Now I must decide which race I will run on March 12. It appears that I will be sufficiently content with my abilities at either distance.

Life is truly good when there are trails out there to run on!

Weekly Total: 50 Miles (6:08:12)

Weekly Recap Feb. 6-12

2011-02-12T15:56:00.002-06:00

Sunday 2-6
6 - 43:25 Super slow and painful run. The feeling I had in my legs was why I have taken so many days off in the last two decades. This run was not fun at all, since everything below the waist hurt a lot. The groin and glute muscles that I strained in the mud last week kept me jogging/hobbling at 7:3x pace for the first three miles before they finally loosened up and let my stride open up a bit. This is NOT my idea of fun and it definitely seems like asking for an injury, but I have to once again build up my ability to run while suffering. Taking that need into account, this was one mighty fine run!

Tuesday 2-8
6 - 35:25 It is hard to believe that a great day can come on the heels of such an awful running experience. Such is the experience of an ultra runner. (Hardcore, big mileage ultra runners please allow me to claim the title - I will show you that I am worthy!) This run included 4.5 miles of solid pace work (25:27). While that pace is slower than what I was capable of back in October, I am extremely happy to be where I am right now. It was cold (19 F), windy (11 mph), and I had to go in pants and a jacket. Still, this workout came relatively easily with negative splits.

I am accustomed to hitting the goal splits, but my minimal running schedule rarely causes me to have the bad legs I had over the weekend. Believe me when I say that I put a lot of effort into bringing those legs around. Significant manipulation and dynamic stretching took place over a two day period. That helped, I'm sure, but the key to my recovery was undoubtedly the repetitious consumption of some awesome vegan chili that I made Sunday afternoon. Yeah, that's it.

By the way, those deer were back. This time they were ON the asphalt trail when I first encountered them. Upon the approach of my huffing and puffing self, their white tails were seen in the fading light as they bounced into the nearby woods. On each of my other three passes they were back on the trail and they waited longer before bounding away. It was during my last approach that I began to worry. The deer not only waited as if playing chicken with me, they all definitely took several small steps toward me as if to challenge me. WTH! Bears in the Smokies do this when they want to rob you of your goodie-filled backpack. Deer are not supposed to stand firm and challenge. What did I do? I held my arms up high and wide while I growled. (Viral YouTube!!) All deer in the area should be questioned should I ever disappear while running.

Thursday 2-10
6 - 42:30 This run was accompanied by another inch of snow, 2 F temperatures, and an absolutely gorgeous sunrise. Those deer were undoubtedly just out of sight while tucked in to avoid the frigid air. It was cold enough to keep me chilled throughout the run despite the fact that I was layered from head to toe. I was purposefully watching the HR in order to guarantee an easy run. One of the most difficult aspects of training, for me, is to slow down on days like these. So, I kept an eye on the HR. This 6 a.m. run was quite enjoyable due to a nearly constant view of the sun as it crept above the horizon and through the forest on its journey into a cloudless sky.

Saturday 2-12
14 - 1:39:24 I ran the same mostly grass/trail loop that I ran last week on the USI campus. This loop offers a variety of terrain and footing. At 2.75 miles it is long enough to keep me from getting dizzy or too bored. With the temperature at 25 F when I started, the ground was solidly frozen. This was great at relieving me of the slippery mud, but it also created some poor footing due to the fact that the saturated soil buckled when the water froze several days ago. Only on my last lap did the ground soften a bit.

The legs felt pretty good today. The more level miles were sub-7. Those miles that included the Stru Hill were 15-20 seconds slower. That hill was still covered with an inch of snow. Stru Hill was the primary source of the 1100 vertical feet of climbing. This was the type of run I need right now. It wasn't fast, but the course was tough. The legs were probably good for two more laps at that pace. I look forward to measuring my progress on this loop over the next few months. Of course, I also look forward to running on much longer trails. I feel a road trip coming. Sure wish I could climb more!

Weekly Total: 32 miles (3:41)