Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Feb 1-7

I posted the below excerpt from David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest and found it to be topical to so much of what this blog has tried to explain (always in vain), about why I compete in sports/life/anything.



Perhaps the tennis coach Schtitt, could be seeking an idealism of sport that is impossible to hone in on without sooner falling victim to the sirens of ego, greed, over-rationalized cheating and overt abuse of one's body. There indeed is a hefty amount of quotations in sport of players speaking of the magic of applying themselves to the challenge at hand, all the while showing an addiction to ego and greed for awards and respect, surpassing the limits of their abilities by thrashing their bodies with irreversible trauma, and the all too common psychopathic actualization of the opportunity to attempt to get away with cheating.

This section of the novel also mentions that C.T. the new headmaster of the tennis academy oversaw the change in the motto that hangs over the boys' main hallway: "When a man knows his limits, there is nothing he can't achieve" which contrasts the romantic views of the former. The central point of this section's explanation of Coach Schtitt is that he finds excellence in being acutely aware of physical limits and also seeing that the way one plays the game allows for countless unseen permutations that only require the right creative decision at the right moment to not merely win, but to make for an actual beautiful game! I wondered to myself on Sunday night as Peyton Manning won his second Super Bowl, did he really savor the sloppy offense, the multiple fumbles, the lack of creativity from his opponents who played predictably as they had all season?

The point that DFW drives through Schtitt is that the human mind working within the "boundaries of self" in the moment is the main reason to play the game. Perhaps the true answer to my question above is a layered answer from the player himself, that there are indeed moments of pure love for the game as we swirl around and dive through the commercialization of heroes. When we ask why we're engaging in these contrived competitions, we're experiencing the knife edge of idealism of the competitor spirit and its limits. To put it in layman's terms: go run a long way in the mountains to get that sweet taste of working within your limits and pushing your body and mind to their limits of effort and creativity. Accept that you might not win, be popular, earn any respect, or receive any compensation - but when you get the chance to play the game, PLAY WITH EVERYTHING YOU'VE GOT!


Monday - Off

Tuesday - 8mi, Tempo up Temescal - though I was far off my PR, I was really excited to have a bit of good form in my stride and experience a fluid push from the no-dogs sign to the top. I think I was really excited by it for the sake of it hopefully translating to a better effort on raceday when I climb up Acorn (without needless nervous red-lining, but noticeable speed).

Wednesday - 10mi, Easy loop around Westridge and Sullivan. I finally got to catch up with Guillaume who was stoked after his experiences at HURT100, yet still excited in a much less technical go again at the AC course with more structured speed work and cross training (everyone always sees the light;) I also attended a cross training class at my work, which I found out fits into my XT running needs (cool!).

Thursday - 6 mi, Intervals at Temescal - 15x45sec. Not an easy workout to do on technical terrain, but definitely a good step in the right direction of building uphill power and efficiency.

Friday - Off, did a bit of Wharton Stretching and cleaning

Saturday - 15 mi, tempo up Winter Creek Climb - again another non-PR, but a fulfilling consistent hard climb. Practiced focusing on my downhill footwork on Sturdevant, which has painfully reminded me before that the price of lazy foot placement is sprained ankles and Supermans. Not falling or rolling an ankle was quite an accomplishment!

Sunday - 11 mi, recovery run with Timmy, Krista, Kate, Katie, and Bob. Good times with everyone in the group, there couldn't have been a more fit, clever, and optimistic group of runners in Malibu that day.
Photo by Kate Martini Freeman

51 mi, 9hr, 13,500 feet climbed
I finally got what felt like two good weeks out of my body, and am happy following up with an easy recovery week that is easy running, stretching, cross training, and a few strides here and there.



Monday, February 1, 2016

1/25-1/31

Perhaps my favorite thing about ultrarunning is its culture. Sure, there's an argument that there's a good amount of liberal "soft-ness" as most runners are highly educated, motivated by a pursuit of transcendentalism, and generally exhibit a minimal amount of competitiveness/maximal amount of niceness with other runners in the community. There's also a conservative values that prioritize hard work and the individual enduring and toughing out a bad patch that earns ample respect among peers regardless of whether they've won or lost a big race. I suppose as someone who's ran these races for eight years, I understand and appreciate the diversity of thought and commonality of respect.

When people talk about the worry of our sport changing, I generally shrug off the topics of races filling up too fast and sponsors ruining events. If the new faces in races have an agenda of sharply breaking from the sport's central values of respect, humility, and instrinsic motivation, then the law of distance regulates their ambitions for disrespect, bragging, and monetary pursuits. Simply put, no one lasts forever running hard, long races without learning the said qualities that make running ultras sustainable.

Respect is required to develop relationships, appreciate the dificulty of races, and be able to run with a clear perception of the challenging at hand. Humility is very easy to learn, and required to allow for a career that lasts longer than a couple of bad, soul-crushing races. Intrinsic motivation is all that keeps a runner going when every pain receptor is firing making quiting seem like it is worth all the money in the world; no external motivation can keep a runner coming back each year for 15-30 hour battles of the mind and body.

That said, it's far from a vanilla sport, and outliers are the norm. I simply believe that those violating the law of distance seem to disappear or at least get drowned out in the steady stream of good people. To me, that's what ultrarunning culture is, and why it's so sustainable.

Monday: Rest, enjoyed it! I did a bit of cross training over the weekend and felt the need to rest after remembering how weak my glutes and hips are.

Thursday: 10x1min on Sullivan Ridge - I've been harping on myself to get my form back to the sound and trully athletic place that makes it possible to hit blazing splits uphill. I don't have any other workout that helps me focus on this like 10x1min, so I'm going to keep doing it until it starts to click.

Wednesday: 13 mile with Katie/Peter/Andy. Easy run from Los Leones to Trippet and back gave me a chance to focus on recovery without being bored out of my mind.

Thursday: 7 mi coyote westridge. Couldn't say I felt good after the past couple nights in the altitude tent. I initially decided to make it another recovery day, but found a burst of energy when Jimmy came by tempoing. I joined him for 15 minutes, enough to make it feel like a fair compromise for my body. 10 min cross training

Friday: Spent the afternoon running errands for work and the car, so by the time Katie was ready to go to Wrightwood, I only had time for 3 miles and some pushups and situps.

Saturday: The woeful lack of cross training seemed to possibly be the cause of a rather bland long run on the road. I accepted the state of my body in exchange for the stunning views of the San Gabriel high country. Also found out that doing my Wharton stretches for the first time in a few days doesn't save a run.

Sunday: 10x1 in the sleet. Wrightwood generally exists somewhere above or below the snowline depending on the particular storm. We started in snow at the cabin, ran intervals on the dirt road by the 2, and ended up back in snow at the cabin. I spent a good amount of time chopping wood and shoveling some heavy and wet snow, making for some demanding domestic cross training on my back.

Overall, I'm happy with January. I know I have more cross training to do this year to maintain mileage, but I feel a bit more confidence and less fear in my training goals.

Monday, January 25, 2016

Jan 18-24

Listening to a blurb at the start of This American Life's podcast "Family Physics", a man recounted his feelings on being upset when his father (who was enamored with New York City) pulled up the family from the Midwest and moved to NYC where they were poor, hustling, and out of place. The Dad had thought that New York was "the center of the universe" and that it would be so great to live there, so much so that all the other costs would be worthwhile. The son went on to gleefully explain a philosophy concept that he had found applicable to his childhood, "the mediocrity principle" which when applied to space, considers locations to be more likely to be a member of a numerous category rather than a rare category. I.e. New York isn't all the center of the universe, it's just another big city.

Relative to life, it's the principle that spending time thinking about how special some place is can blind you to whether it really is in fact a special place. Relative to running, it's the question of whether where you're running is really intrinsically fulfilling versus communally important. Do you enter races because of what is considered important or what you enjoy?

These aren't the first time I've asked these questions, but I'm glad I have good answers for myself.


Monday: Rest

Tuesday: 7.7 mi, 2000ft, 1:17, Easy Temescal - body still not feeling spry after Avalon, some lingering hip and glute pain in my right leg. Cross training: Wharton stretching and 6 min abs

Wed: 4 mi, 0ft, :31, Did 15 strides with Katie following on the bike. Loosening up the hamstrings is going to be a process. Did more Wharton stretching

Thurs: 7mi, 1000ft, :60, Workout: 10x1min, perhaps it was running in the dark, but I felt good and strong, clearing out some carbon from Avalon.

Fri: 14.8mi, 3400ft, 2:22, Ran up Echo mountain and down the Sunset Trail and Arroyo. Friday afternoon runs are tough when my energy levels are usually their lowest, but making them easy runs allows for my body to come alive gradually on its own. Plus, being on the Sunset Trail at sunset (a life long race dream) is good motivation for the soul to strive to reach for a little more in training.

Sat: 12mi, 2700ft, 2:30, Ran in the snow with Katie, Sarah, and Dean from Vincent Gap down the Manzanita trail and back up. The snow was firm but misshapen putting my hamstrings and hips to work, which seems to be necessary after Avalon. I'm much more aware of these muscular issues than I used to be, or they're weaker than they used to be. Either way, I finished up with a road run, and 30 minutes of cross training glutes, core, and arms.

Sun: 16mi, 2000ft, 2:5, Ran the road from Vincent Gap towards Islip and back. Body felt better once I got going, but stride felt tight and short. Ended up only getting in one good workout for the week, but doing another full body XT session made the week seem less weak.

Total: 61.6 mi, 10,866ft, 10:08

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Avalon 50 Mile Recap

As mentioned previously, I signed up for the Avalon 50 miler with an honest expectation of experiencing ultrarunning's stern and bitter adjudication for the undertrained. Perhaps I could have meditated about my 2008 Mt. Disappointment 50 miler (a truly brutal death march through hell, climbing up Edison Fire Road in 100 degree heat, a painful descent down the technical Silver Mocasin Trail with IT bands screaming, before a crushing final climb up Mt. Wilson with 46 miles on my virgin legs). Maybe that would have reminded me how capable and consistent Jorge Pacecho is in every Southern California ultra, and how to respect distance and terrain. I'd been going agnostic on ultrarunning; forgetting about the magic and joy of a well-executed race, working 12 hour days, and focusing on everything else in my life (Katie, work, sleep, holidays).

As I gazed upon the race in December, I felt a heavy expectation to train more and execute a disciplined schedule, but there was nothing tactile or sensually alluring about the race. There were few photographs, no personal memories besides snorkeling at Fourth of July Cove in middle school, and no instinctual urge to go for 20-30 mile runs on gradual fire roads. I wasn’t completely lazy though-I did need to run to soothe my twitching legs and screen burnt eyes with a few miles. In St. Louis, the rain fell relentlessly for 4 days, and I ground out a few track workouts to make small advances in fitness to get ready to race. When I returned to LA, the race was already upon me, but I still got out for another workout on Blue Ridge with Peter. Whatever training I had done, it would have to suffice. 

 When race day finally came, I sheepishly lined up at the starting line at 5 AM, certain that I would follow Fabrice and Jorge for as long as I could until my lacking fitness was painfully made apparent (likely at 3-4 miles in). As predictable as it would have been to see the SoCal legends dash off into the early morning dusk, I lead for 2 miles, and was joined not by either luminary, but by Paul Sinclair and Neil Feerick (local podium masters runners). They chatted, I figured out my pace, and we alternated the lead until I started to pull away sometime around mile 16.
Mile 18, Photo by Elsie Noemi Lopez

I didn't know where Fabrice (Did Not Start) or Jorge (6 minutes behind at mile 18) were, but I was running hard and focused. The drop bags did not make it in time to mile 18, so I had to make due on coke and rationing my 4 VFuel gels for 33 miles. I made a quick stop in the porta-potty, and was now in second chasing Paul who was within striking distance with no one behind us. I finally caught up to him on the descent into Twin Harbor, but lost him for a moment when I saw Hal Winton hiking uphill like the abominable snowman, with Gary Hilliard in tow. 

There's something about Hal Winton that inspires endurance in just about anyone who meets him. Perhaps it's the fact that at age 50, he decided to run ultras, and hasn't stopped since regardless of having a pacemaker installed and all the other ailments of old age. Or maybe that he still leads trail work crews for AC100 all over the San Gabriels at the ripe old age of 84 years old. So, I indulged in a PEH (performance enhancing hug) and I stopped to bear hug the 33 time (soon to be 34) finisher of the Avalon 50 Mile. I quickly caught back up to Paul and strode into the lead as we approached the turnaround at the isthmus. 

I counted 45 seconds on Paul and 3 minutes on Jorge as I made my way back. The rest of the field was stretched out for a few miles, and I enjoyed the cheers from fellow runners despite running dangerously low on calories and electrolytes. Ultras are a small family, and I recognized probably 80% of the runners heading the opposite way. After I got to my drop bag at mile 33, I downed a recovery drink and set back out towards the finish hoping to keep Jorge and Paul at bay for as many miles as possible. Running back over the rolling hills around Little Harbor, I expected to see one or both of them across the canyons, but somehow I managed to hold a lead despite having to slow to process calories. I wish I had known I had a 9 minute lead to stop and let my calories process correctly, but instead I kept grinding on trying to keep relentless forward motion.

The slow going dragged on as I couldn't run and process calories well enough from my short training stint (hint, these are real skills you develop during proper training). Eventually I made it to the Eagle's Nest aid at 39 just ahead of Jorge. He finally overtook me at mile 40 with a "sorry hero!" as my slog dragged on for another mile with weak hamstrings. I finally began to start feeling better and tried to keep him in eyesight, but Jorge was already gone and on the way to another strong finish. Though I had wanted to win after leading for so many miles, I kept in context how lucky I was to finish so well on so little training. 
49.1 miles, Photo by Katie DeSplinter


Needless to say, I was grateful to come out of the race with such a relatively positive experience. I had the taste of possible victory again, and I was grateful to get let off with a mere 13 miles of painful slogging. There’s some pain as I run beyond 30 minutes in my right hamstring and hip, but I’m okay with cross training and stretching being tangible remedies to the pain. Up next (as of now) is Lake Sonoma 50 mile, which should be as competitive as any ultra in the world. 
3-1-2, photo by: Don Feinstein

Needless to say, I was grateful to come out of the race with such a relatively positive experience. I had the taste of possible victory again, and I was grateful to get let off with a mere 13 miles of painful slogging. There’s some pain as I run beyond 30 minutes in my right hamstring and hip, but I’m okay with cross training and stretching being tangible remedies to the pain. Up next (as of now) is Lake Sonoma 50 mile, which should be as competitive as any ultra in the world. 


Thanks to..
New Balance for a sample pair of the Fresh Foam Gobi (basically a trail zante
VFuel for gels that went the extra mile when my drop bag was late
Injinji for a blister free day with the Run Midweight Crew Waves
Julbo for the simple and functional Corina Sunglasses

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

End of an Off Year

One of the hardest things to admit as a runner, is that as much as you might want to think of your running as an idealistic and virtuous endeavor in the realms of hard work and courageous determination, the raw truth is that you run for the pleasure of a good run. All the training and disciplined and diligent work put in, is part enjoyment and part greedy planning for an even more pleasurable run. We have our flavors of enjoyment: big mountains, roads, trails, long runs, short and fast runs, but they're all chosen for purely personal preferences of which run leads to the most enjoyment. When I look back on my "off year", it's undeniable that I suffered through injuries and lower energy levels because I was greedy with my pleasure seeking, there's nothing else to say about it. Greed is real.

I write this now with not only a revived running body, but also a healthy and honest appreciation for the how and why of self restraint with my running. It's easy to slip and let my greedy side take hold and leap blindly into training hard again, but the amount of restraint enforced upon me by the setbacks of the year make me see what I do with much wider eyes.

Right now, the best runners in the sport are receiving awards for their performances (UROY), and from my perspective there's nothing discriminating the applause between runners that abused themselves and are burnt out (or about to burn out) or runners that exuded restraint and maintained a healthy relationship with their running. It would be difficult to explain your voting as a judge if you denied a UROY vote to someone that ran incredibly hard and fast 5-6 times a year, yet it would also go a long way towards making the sport more sustainable.

I will admit that I can't deny the excitement I feel watching another runner crush their busy schedule, but I also hear a voice that has grown louder in light of the lonely and depressed moment when I realized I wasn't having fulfilling or enjoyable runs at all. The moment is almost the definition of a non-runner: when you realize all the truth in the standard critiques of "it just hurts and it's not fun at all". Having worked through those heavy thoughts for months at a time, I'm really grateful that I do believe in running again.

All this doom and gloom wasn't for naught, as I now feel these very distinct emotions of "now is a good time to rest" or "those core exercises are critical right now" or "this run is going really well because I'm doing x, y..woooo-hooo! Giddy up!!!" I'm grateful for that clarity because understanding my body does a lot for my personal satisfaction. I enjoy tinkering with my muscles and form, (while intimately aware of failure mechanisms to avoid) and running with a vast awe and wonder for what I'm capable of when everything comes together.

Going into 2016, I might run more or less each day, and my average splits could be faster or slower, but the path to my goals will be more clear and resolute than previous years . I plan to race the Avalon 50 mile on January 9th with the pure goal of re-calibrating my training, and testing my intuition. With the results of the race, I should have a lot to think about (and hopefully write about) going into my 2016 training for Lake Sonoma 50 and Angeles Crest 100. A whole year of healthy and consistent running isn't a pipe dream, it's a powerful reward after learning so many lessons the hard way. With that, I might delve into some cognizant training that makes me a better runner!

Salud!


Sunday, September 20, 2015

UTMB 170k

Pre-Race Build Up 
I would describe my mental approach to and through UTMB as a roller coaster of mind and body:

In January, a large respect for the challenge ahead of racing in a foreign country and admittance of fear for not understanding the terrain and unique challenges.

In February, a hope to race another U.S. 100 miler to take off any expectation for an optimal race in Europe. I race Sean O'Brien with a body that wasn't ready, and I couldn't finish the race after a sharp ankle sprain 10 miles in.

In March, an acceptance of UTMB being the sole goal, and realizing my opportunity before me. To be honest, the acceptance of it as my "A race" was due to lingering OTS issues and fatigue through the winter that kept me from being able to race well in early season Western States qualifiers. Eventually though my mind came around full circle to accepting the benefits of not over racing this year.

In April and May, a steady increase of my mileage and workouts in hopes of peaking in August. A string of consistent workouts and enjoyable runs let me start to believe OTS was disappearing.

In June, a tangible confidence in my abilities to race hard in August, with a certain and highly present joy.

In July, a soleus injury that shook my confidence and limited my mileage for weeks. Before the month ended, I completed the Speedgoat 50k, which was an accomplishment for my psyche and durability. It was at least an hour slower than it should've gone, but I wasn't bitter about it after spending weeks wondering how I was going to board a plane to Europe with a bum soleus.

In August, a couple of long test runs before heading over to Europe. My fitness was clearly not what it was in May, but the legs did move with determined consistency. I went to Europe and hiked with Katie, enjoying the experience as the days counted down to the race. Considering the injury and demands of the race, it took everything I had to finish the race.

Race
Every race in the world has its fair share of hype, excitement, and general hysteria. UTMB though is a whole other imaginary world where runners are super stars. It features the French competitiveness that boarders on "do or die patriotism" that shows up in the theme music of the race: Vangelis - Conquest of Paradise. If you listen to it echoing through the streets of Chamonix, with 2500 runners amped up and ready to go, you get a distinct feeling of the sanctity and importance of your sole mission: to attack UTMB as hard and bravely as possible..

So, there's the best runners in all of France (which is already a very competitive and well organized mountain running country) going out as hard as they can, along with the Spaniards that have some of the best endurance talent in the world, the Scandinavians that have some of the strongest legs in the sport, the Italians that can run and chat extremely fast, the Germans and Swiss that work the hardest of anyone, the Argentinians that hit on my girlfriend, the fiercely proud Asians that walk with their chests puffed out and UTMB gear prominently adorned, and the Americans that don't want to take things too seriously, but secretly are going out a little hard because we're Americans and we're a big deal. If you brought only the feisty, athletic, proud and competitive people of all the first world nations to the UN, you would have the UTMB field.

Go! Photo by Katie DeSplinter

The Start

As we took off through the streets of Chamonix, I felt like I was running with the bulls. I was trying to be mellow and low key all day, but the pre-race atmosphere was exhausting to endure before the gun went off. I put my legs in a low gear as we headed over the first climb to St. Gervais, but it seemed like everyone else was still rather energized from the start as they streamed past.

I felt a bit of hesitation in my legs as I made it to the first crew access point at Les Contamines at 31k (19 mi). I already had some hesitation about my race, as I hadn't made any mistakes eating and pacing myself for the first 3 hours, but I was feeling tired and overwhelmed by so much of the field surging past me as the sun had just set. Katie tried to cheer me up telling me how wrecked people looked in front of me, and I made a resolution to myself to force myself to always get up and go out of every aid station, and only allow a DNF with a backwards walk of shame. I was trying to keep my mind strong, and I thought it would work well until I left the aid station and saw 5 runners in the next mile walking backwards to drop at Les Contamines..


The Night

The climb up Croix du Bonhomme was long, dark, drawn out, and just what I was waiting for in the race. The early race fervor had taken it's toll on the field, and I started to slowly pass a runner every half-mile or so. The descent was another issue as I had some issues with my ankles and knees and had to be cognizant of the 75 miles ahead. After a quick gear check at Les Chapieux at 49k (30mi) I ended up linking up with Darcy Piceu and made a consistent and conversational push up the next climb to Col de Seigne. The moon lit up Ville des Glaciers, and we ran and hiked briskly into the breeze at the pass at 8,000 feet.

This would prove to be some of the most challenging terrain in the race, but a new addition for the year that sent runners up a talus field again to 8,000 feet and then down another one at 2 AM. If your friend asked you go run over this talus field at 2 AM on the Col des Pyramides Calcaires, you'd probably say no because it's absolutely beautiful and arduous terrain that should only be done during the day, but the race course wasn't negotiable.

I didn't anticipate the section being as technical as it was, and began to run out of water (the night was cool and dry). I bummed some water off the checkpoint at the pass and cautiously made my way down to Lac Combal at 64k (40 miles). I met up with Michele Graglia who was having chest pains at the aid station. He had been racing (quite well) in Europe leading up to the race and was primed to turn heads for reasons besides his usual reasons (underwear modeling). In characteristic annoying engineer fashion, I gave him contrasting advice to try to drink water to lower his blood pressure and continue on, but also to not do anything that would make his wife a widow, but to at least to try to  make it down to Courmayeur, but not to go too far to be a liability.. I bid him adieu and continued on into pitch black valleys and passes, following a spread out train of headlights and spandex.

Once I final made it to Col Checrouit at 73k (45 mi), I began to learn about how descents would characteristically go on the course: I read the sign that said 4km/-880m to Courmayeur, which meant 2.5 mi/-2800 ft. That's -21%, so I figured it would be something fun, steep, and run-able. That would be the case if it was a consistent descent, but instead there was a gradual start and finish to the section. So, what really happened was the main descent of 1.5mi/-2300ft. If you followed my math, the steep part went from -21% to -29% which is something fierce at 5AM in the pitch black dark after 45 miles. It was a rush, and I had a blast charging down to Katie despite all the risk of blowing out my quads.

The basic jest of it all, is that the race works each year to do things in a more challenging way, that keeps runners on their toes (literally) and keeps the course in a constant state of increasingly diverse challenges. There's no way the course lets a good road runner flourish, or just great mountain runners dominate. The course wants runners that can hit the jets when the terrain opens up, and rein in their stride when it gets steep and technical.

I finally made it to Courmayeur just before the sun came out to illuminate the Aosta Valley, and happily worked with Katie to get my pack restocked and ready to go. I had some extra dead weight I was carrying for her, and I had some really special moments running into the aid station searching the crowd for her beaming eyes to greet me and tell me that our exhausting endeavor was just as worthwhile for her as it was to me.

Legs up at Courmayeur to keep the blood fresh in the legs. Photo by KD
I say "our", because the driving between aid stations amounted to almost 10 hours, and she rarely got a chance to sleep. If there was ever a question of whether I was carrying a panda engagement ring for a deserving lady, she always affirmed it with a big smile and supportive enthusiasm. To be honest, I only expect that type of support from her, and even still I know it's a significant burden.

Leaving Courmayeur, notice the sadness in my eyes. Photo by Gabi Schenkel

From Courmayeur to Champex-Lax, Miles 45-76

Leaving Courmayeur knowing I wouldn't see her for 30 miles wasn't easy. I felt like the trail's steep and inconsistent terrain has already taken a few pounds of muscles from me, but my combo of PowerBar Blasts and Protein Bars as well as aid station salami and Coke kept the legs in the game. I had no clue what my place was, but I did know that runners were still passing me. In reality, I was passing a few runners in every aid station due to drops or other reasons, but I was getting passed on the trail, so I was actually slowly moving up the field even though I thought the opposite.

I saw Sage coming down into the Refugio Bertone aid station to catch a ride on a helicopter. Racing means taking risks, and he had cut open his knee coming into Courmayeur. He left with stitches trying to save his race, but they wouldn't hold on the downhills and he had to make the long term decision to save his knees for more than just this one race. As one might expect, there was a bit of regret and relief in his face which was fitting in this land of heaven and hell.

The terrain leveled out on the way to Refugio Bonatti, and I started to realize the full circle of terrain on the course. If I had been racing up front, I would have had to charge this flat section right after grinding up a steep climb, and then prepare myself for a quick descent before another long climb to 8,000 ft. I jogged along with a few other sleep deprived runners, and began to realize the hard work that put the leaders on the Grand Col Ferret (mi 63) at sunrise.

Fernando charging up Gran Col Feret, me being stoic
Eventually I linked up with Fernando, a bay area runner at Arnuva and followed him up the long climb to the top of Grand Col Ferret that we reached late morning. The ascent is full of false summits, and I felt proud to earn it as simplistically as I did, so I stopped to take my one picture in the whole race for Katie (who only got to climb it in a storm).

The view Katie missed out on at the top of the Gran Col Feret
The descent was another issue though as my knees were tightening up and making a gentle descent very haphazard. The predictably eclectic terrain continued as we floated along a narrow traverse before making a steep and sudden descent into La Fouly at 108K (67mi) where we'd run a long a hot and flattish descent for 6 miles before a run-able climb to Champex-Lac at 122K (76mi). The heat of the day was taking its effect on the field, but I felt at home and started to really enjoy the race like a summer 100 in the U.S.

La Fouly was a great place to drop after the last section, but I had a special package to deliver

The Last 38 Miles

Champex-Lac, notice the love growing Photo by Gabi Schenkel
Seeing Katie at Champex-Lac was the reward I'd been promising myself for hours since I had left Courmayeur. The runners I'd spent time with on the course that morning were a mix of "hung over stoics" and "1000 mile stare PTSD mountain runners" so her bright big smile was uplifting to say the least. I knew that at Champex-Lac, I was in the "nice" part of the course that lavished me with shorter climbs and more crew access. I hadn't yet seen the chin-scraper Bovine climb at 134k (83 miles), the exceptionally steep Vallorcine descent at 149k (93 miles), the drawn out final climb at 155k (96 miles), or the involved 12km (7mi) descent, or the glorious final k, but I was in good spirits as I left Champex-Lac at mile 76 with a mere 29 miles to go.

The afternoon stayed warm and I had started to feel at home on the gentle trails that let me run and get into a good consistent grove. That abruptly ended at the Bovine climb which was something out of Rambo I. After 21 hours on the course, I accepted that this climb was necessary and good. The section was relentless but it petered out, and I began to pick up momentum again moving ahead of my fellow zombie competitors that had marched the climb with me. At Trient, with 29k (18mi) to go, I saw Jesse again for a moment on the in-n-out of the aid station. We had both dreamed of this moment for what felt like years over the course of the first 88 miles. To see him on his way to redemption in this impossible to believe moment was something special. Jesse is a simple guy that works hard without any fanfare, and he was more than deserving of this beautiful experience after being denied a finish at La Fouly last year.

Trient is a great place to be before sunset! Photo by Gabi Schenkel
Though I had been on the hunt for scalps in the last several miles (Inglorious Bastards reference), I had reached a few talented runners that would keep me working hard all the way to the finish. There was a lanky Scandinavian runner that had run 50 miles in under 5:30, but at this moment we were identical twins. The descent into Vallorcine had us limping downhill like old men, but in our own minds we were duking it out like it was the Rumble in the Jungle.

I saw Katie again at 7PM and took in my final supplies for the last 19km push to the finish. I would've been optimistic of an easy final climb, but Topher and Dylan reeled me back in with intel on the everlasting nature of the climb and the thoroughly punishing final descent. Without much more thought, I kissed Katie one last time and hiked off into dusk, prepared to do whatever it took to get the last 11 miles done before midnight.

Leaving Vallorcine, heading up to the shelf in the background Photo by Gabi Schenkel
The magic of UTMB started to become more palpable as locals lined the trail to the base of the climb; excitedly cheering us on, knowing full well of the impending glory awaiting us at the finish line. It was a worthy final climb that gained elevation quickly and then leveled off near the top, floating along above the atmosphere above Chamonix, giving a moonlit view of the massif I had been impossibly running around for 27 straight hours. Though I wanted to immediately be at the final aid station at La Flegere at 160k (99mi), the trail wound about the canyons for a few more kilometers before reaching it at 11pm.


The Final Descent and Finish

I walked through the aid with confidence and calmness of my chances of finishing the last 5 miles in under an hour. I drank my broth and coke, and left accepting whatever the course would throw at me. A steep ski slope straight down to right hand turn onto a road covered in rocks to a sudden hard left into the trees onto a singletrack that felt like a glowing magic carpet. I knew what I would have done 10 miles ago: a conservative and calculated descent that focused on foot placement and security. I let go of the fear of not finishing, and I let my ankles relax and absorb the rocks and roots as my quads pressed down with gentle consistency, and my hips cruised along like a sailboat on a gentle day. I whooped and wailed as I made my way through La Floria which still had a few hardcore race fans cheering in the dark. The single track turned to rocky fire road, then to pavement, and finally to the lit streets of Chamonix. I ran along the roaring river that seemed to carry my spirit along, and into the town that was wide awake and ready to welcome me.

Just 29 hours after I left and went around Mont Blanc.. I return.
I gathered up all my brainpower to try to absorb the memories of the moment and came across the line to embrace Katie, finally without the need to be hurried out of an aid station after 104 miles of running. I told her I had to ask her a question, and I dug into my pack and slowly got down on one knee. She immediately started to seize up and cover her face like the moment was a sleep deprived hallucination, but I opened my mouth and said the words "will you marry me?" After gasping for breath, she stopped breathing and I asked "well, is that a yes?" and she finally burst out "YES!"

104 miles, 29:39


She said "YES" - Photo by Matt Trappe

Post Race Thoughts

The last time I was this grateful to finish a race was Hardrock, but this moment was different in a foreign country with the love of my life as my true partner and biggest supporter. I'm starting to accept the innate magic of exploring and running for the sake of the experience, and not solely defining the experience by competitive outcomes. I'll be back racing in a few months, pinning on a race bib and letting the legs explode with energy and reckless abandon for shorter and safer races, but I think I do have a substantial degree of gratitude for the magic of finishing a meaningful 100 mile race every year, regardless of the competitive results.

I'm really excited to enjoy the simplicity of training for my home town 100 miler, Angeles Crest, next August, and I think if I can keep track of my energy levels and the need for rest along the way, I can do something fast and meaningful with the perspective of how much pain I was in during UTMB. The tools I used mentally and physically to keep going are tangible and real. Until then, I'm slowly letting my body re-discover the joy of running with just a pair of shoes and shorts, and the weightlessness of the feeling of only running as far as I care to.

Monday, September 14, 2015

Europe, Culture, and Wilderness

I spent 12 days in Europe and saw an intriguing contrast of how things are done across the pond versus America. Because the race was such a big deal in Chamonix, the words "immersive experience" will have to do even though I'd like to describe it in stronger terms. My race report will follow in a couple days to allow for a digestible and segmented recap.

Travel
I met Katie outside the Tom Bradley International Terminal at LAX at 1PM on Wednesday the 19th, and we hurried inside the massive terminal to escape the cigarette smoke of international travelers. Most people don't smoke in California (or aren't allowed to in public places), and most people in Europe do smoke, all the time, everywhere, in synchronized succession, until they have to reload, which is a momentary pause.

A380, rich people on top, everyone else on the bottom

Though most of LAX is still undergoing small updates, the international terminal is essentially an brand new mall complete with 3 story LCD displays and hip boutiques. We enjoyed a snack and boarded the GIGANTIC A380 in less time it takes to board a 737 half the size, and flew for 10 hours (with only a 3 hour night) over the arctic. It was complete with two tasty meals, wine, beer, Irish whiskey, and more beer along the way. The plane itself is huge and has plenty of room to stretch your legs and stand about (giant relief because I hate being cooped up). Additionally, Lufthansa lived up to hype as one of the best airlines for in-flight service/movies/food/drinks/snacks.

Arriving in Frankfurt, we found out we needed to go through security again, and chase down an elusive gate that kept changing. We finally made it on board another Lufthansa flight for Geneva, and finally arrived 14 hours since we left LA. The feeling of jetlag in a foreign country is a unique and overwhelming one, as we got lost walking to the rental counter, driving out of Geneva, and finding our first hotel in Chamonix. We were like the tourists that come to LA that act like every detail of life is bewilderingly confusing*.

*We were operating at 25% brain power and didn't speak French.

When we made it finally to our hostel in Chamonix, we checked in and collapsed into a coma as our heads hit the bed. After 14 hours of sleep, we awoke the next morning to fully realize we were in a mountain paradise.

Welcome to France
In France, there are a few things you have to be able to do to be happy:

1) Pain is Bread, but bread is not painful. We ended up eating a lot of bread - which is impressive because we did get caught up in a gluten-avoidance lifestyle that had spread through the US. I actually consciously tried to work it back into my diet before the trip, but the amount of quality/quantity is totally different from the US. Essentially, everywhere you turn, there are baguettes of really fresh French bread that doesn't have more than a few ingredients in it. So, for us during our refugio hoping days, we ate a ton of it, but miraculously were not bound to the toilets.

2) Cheese, butter, and milk are farm fresh - you can run by the cows that make it, and (surprise) it tastes great and works as pretty decent fuel with bread.
Hi, cows.
3) European meat products are really, really, good. You can buy a pack of dried salami or prosciutto and snack on it without indigestion from preservatives or excessive fat. I ran a good amount of UTMB snacking on salami at aid stations, through all sorts of conditions. I'm sure part of it is that hiking steep hills at a slower pace makes it more digestible, but I'd still recommend it (with a glass of coke) to Americans looking for readily available on course fuel solutions.

4) In general, my diet got to be very consistent because this is what refugios offer:
Mornings: coffee, bread, marmalade, and butter
Lunch: bread, cheese, butter, and salami or ham sandwiches
Dinner: bread and butter with some meat and veggies

5) We learned to drive a stick shift like we knew exactly where we were going. There is no patience for cars that aren't moving up and down hills at the maximum speed limit or not using the #1 lane to pass. Most cars have tiny engines that are always in a low gear to push through the steep parts, so we had to get used to pushing our go-cart rental hard and focusing on shifting and navigating much more than in America (land of automatics and cell phone addiction).

Ski lifts! Everywhere!

We learned all of this in the first few days and slowly got our bearings driving to Le Chapieux, the southern most part of the course. The Mont Blanc Massif ripples outward for thousands of acres, in an unusually small but huge way. The tree line varies greatly across from region to region, but one constant is that man is allowed to develop almost every and any part of the massif. Chairlifts criss-cross the road which criss-crosses giant, steep passes. I'm speaking of these remarkable man made developments in contrast to the Californian Sierra Club model, which champions large swaths of mountain wilderness that have zero roads or private developments. In the Mont Blanc region, refugios and roads were built centuries before John Muir started crawling around the Sierras. Even after the Sierra Club became a force in conservation, Europeans still continued to champion great engineering projects like the tram up Aiguille du Midi and more expansive ski resorts.

Refugio Bertone perched above Courmayeur was finishing another remodel (it might be Hotel Bertone when we return)
There are a few wilderness areas today on and around the massif, but they're generally in less desirable terrain to develop, i.e. windswept ridges and less-ski-able terrain. I gathered that Europeans' approach to nature, is that man is smart and caring enough to not ruin nature.. Then again there are counter-examples (toilet paper and trash on the side of the trail) of imperfections of this ideal. The overall truth is that there's examples of animals still finding ways to thrive and co-exist and also animals going extinct (I've researched this for 30 minutes, there's examples both ways). In general though, the amount of people in the mountains is impressively less detrimental to the environment than in the U.S.

The overall trend with humans is that demand for places to hike/run/climb/ski/explore is higher per capita in Europe. As one might expect, those that wander out into this steep terrain on their own accord are generally more eco-conscious about what they're doing, but there's always an occasional fool. In the U.S. there's less demand per capita, so those that do go out into the wilderness are less eco-conscious and tend to do more foolish things per capita. In the end, the balancing act is that Europeans over develop trails compared to Americans, but the same amount of trash gets left in popular areas. Meanwhile, there are more places in America to escape everyone and be completely alone. I'm not afraid to say that I would love to see more funding for conservation in the form of education and cultural immersion in the U.S. with less red tape around wilderness areas, but I do respect the work that our environmentalists do to protect the land from the armies of fools.

Another way to contrast America and Europe is in terms of quality and quantity. America has higher quality wilderness and service industries, where Europe has higher quality trails/access and food. America has higher quantity (cheaper) food, fuel, and services where Europe has a much higher quantity of trail use and land use (hikers and farms are everywhere). Personal freedom is more monetary in the US where as in Europe it's more time based. The main take away is that both continents have much to learn from each other, but both look at each other with impulsive disdain for "stupid Americans" or "Creepy Euros". I understand the knee jerk reaction when someone walks into a restaurant and speaks the wrong language, but there's a greater opportunity to learn and make changes for the better. Heck, globalization and global warming mean we're all in it together, so cultural differences aside, we're slowly becoming one big happy family.





Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Aug 3-9

The looming giant of a race that is UTMB that is waiting for me is rather significant. 33,000 ft of climbing is no joke, and the finish will most certainly be earned. The problems I had in July put a damper on training, but it appears that basic things are coming back around: durability in the mountains, hiking strength, and downhill footwork. I'm not at risk of being over-trained right now, the only risk would be losing my mental stamina going forward. The logistics of international travel, navigating foreign countries, and planning out 11 days in Europe while optimizing my body for racing is a little bit mentally exhausting, but I'm sure it'll be worthwhile and an amazing experience.

Still, part of me is a little bit frustrated at how most people tell me it's going to be "fun". If the race was just 30 miles, and we had all accommodations paid for, and no threat of hellish weather or an arduous finish.. then yes, "fun" would be the descriptor. Yet, after all the problems are solved and I cross the finish line in Chamonix, I suppose a thought might creep into my mind that it was "type II fun"..

Monday - 4 mi running up Acorn in the evening, no pain!

Tuesday - 10 mi - tempo of 5 mi on Mullhullound, not easy after the long weekend, but good to clear out the carbon.

Wednesday - Easy 5mi at sunset at Will Rodgers

Thursday - Easy 3 mi - Soleus was speaking to me

Friday - 19 mi out of Chantry with the poles and full kit. I think my gear is pretty dialed in for the race, everything felt good and secure running on similar UTMB terrain.

Saturday - 14 mi at night from Wrightwood to Baldy - the rains had torn up the terrain, and it was a moonless night, but I kept trucking along the steep terrain and enduring the type 2 fun until it became type 1 fun

Sunday - 6 mi - Mellow, just getting some fun miles above Wrightwood.

  • 61.3mi
  • 13h 2818,192ft
    I might have done a bit more mileage, but the body was a bit reluctant. This week upcoming is more important for being sharp and strong.

    Tuesday, August 4, 2015

    July 27 - Aug 2

    Though I only had 4 runs last week while recovering from the tougher than expected Speedgoat 50k and making time to take care of Katie at AC, the sacrifice karma worked out well, as I'm running well today.

    Tues: 5.4 mile up Los Leones, down the rabbit hole. The body wasn't too energetic, but I got it done without any nagging injuries

    Wed: 3.5 mi taper with Katie, just easy lap around the golf course for the sake of getting Katie (and myself) ready to enjoy the weekend.

    Fri: 2 mi taper run with Katie on Acorn, I felt much better than Tuesday, but the sleepless weekend would crush my energy until I got to sleep in again.

    Saturday: 25 mi (mostly hiking) with Katie while pacing during AC100. Not an easy night after crewing her (and other friends and strangers) all day.

    The race (like most things in life) isn't perfect or ideal. It's a blend of good intentions, fierce lows and powerful highs, painful and glorious human interactions, and crazy stories of absurd extremes. Yet, it is without a doubt my favorite weekend of the year, anywhere in the world. Though I didn't race, I did get this powerful boost out of the weekend from the good moments of icing a stranger in need down, and getting them on their way a little faster with a little better chance of finishing. When someone really needs a helping hand, and anyone (myself or an crew/volunteer/pacer) gets selflessly invested in helping that person out, it's just a beautiful thing.

    Maybe I could be more vocally involved in getting the race organization to update and improve, but I'm more comfortable with encouraging the community aspect rather than the organization aspect. When someone gets frustrated about the sign up process, I understand the justifiable anger of missing out on the running side of the event. It's a big feeling to finish the race and feel the rush of rounding the corner onto Palm Street. Still for me, it was a big feeling to run with Katie through the night when things were at their worst, and to see her persevere all the way to Altadena faster than ever before. It was a big deal to see Joe Devreese gut out a finish after having to readjust expectations all day, and especially sweet to see Billy Simpson work his butt off out of the goodness of his heart to pace him all the way to the finish.

    Sure, there were some not cool things along the way to Altadena, aid stations running out of aid, crews breaking rules, etc. etc. but generally the good people that understood the necessity of supporting the dreams of the runners, filled the gaps and made the race happen. In that sense, I don't get so judgmental about race organizations. Their job is to preserve the race and keep it functioning year after year, and the community's job is to decide whether to make it a good race with awesome performances of the athletic and compassionate nature. With that said, I'll be racing next year, Katie will be crewing me, and I'll be encouraging all the entrants along the way to make the most of the gift of a spot on the starting line, and the crews/volunteers/pacers to make it the best race they ever are apart of.

    The potential of the course is huge, and it's a worthy and arduous experience to train for and participate in the San Gabriels, 365 days a year.

    Mile 99.9

    Monday, July 27, 2015

    July 20-26

    Tues: Easy 10 mile loop up Sullivan and Westridge with Katie and Peter. Soleus seemed to be totally fine with the gradual terrain and easy pace.

    Wed: Tried to pace Katie to a Temescal PR, but it wasn't in the cards for her that day. Katie has a solid PR on the climb, and running faster than her PR takes some ideal variables all lining up just right. It's funny how frustrating short runs are that are decided all too fast, as if running 2 minutes slower for a segment on the AC course would define a 100 mile performance.. But in the instance of a Wednesday morning run, the taper crazies can make a mind wander.

    Thurs: Easy Westridge with Peter.

    Fri: Travel to SLC

    Saturday: The Speedgoat 50k has become a mecca for hardcore mountain runners, so when I got an offer from Greg in June to take his spot, I took it because I'd rarely have the race on my radar with my traditional summer 100s that make it very hard to run well at Snowbird. In June, things were looking good. My fitness had been coming along since the end of April, and no major injuries were present. I injured my soleus over the July 4th weekend, and I spent the last three weeks of July doing very little mileage to keep the injury from carrying into August. The stretching, low mileage, and lack of workouts did the trick, but I also lost a bit of fitness and mountain running strength.

    I was optimistic my time at Hardrock would count for something, and it essentially let me hike all day without any issues. However, the Speedgoat course is so involved (there's something for everyone: Steep, really steep, extremely steep, runnable, technical, extremely technical, buffed out), that running in the 6 hour range requires some strong lungs and limbs to run as much of the gradual terrain as possible. I spent the first climb trying to keep a modest pace a few switchbacks behind the leaders, but the altitude and technical terrain wanted a bit more effort to hold that "modest" pace, and by the time I topped out at Hidden Peak at 11,000 ft. (9 miles in) I was accepting the fitness I was lacking as a sign I should really make it a training race (i.e. slow down and don't blow up for no reason, because finishing the race would be much better for UTMB than trying to race hard and blow up).

    Mile 1 with Jenn Shelton, Photo by Zac Marion

    The course had a general pattern: unpredictability. Coming over the peak, we descended on a fire road for a bit before hitting up a stretch of singletrack overgrown by wildflowers. I think Unicorns running in wildflowers is about as American and the American Flag Store (SLC has one). I enjoyed the segment for all of a minute before I missed a large rock that was hidden by the flowers and went parallel and revolving with the terrain. Bloody hooves, busted gels, and a bruised toe reminded me to chill out and let the course come to me. The course continued winding through the basin, and climbed steeply up to a saddle to drop into another valley that featured a fire road from hell. I felt some tendinitis in my toe flaring up so I tried to carefully dance with the bowling ball rock field and avoid any further damage, but it was frustrating. Eventually I reached Roch Horton's Pacific Mine Aid Station with a pack of runners, and headed back up the long and gradual (run-able) climb through the Aspens with Ryan Lassen. The temperature climbed with us as we hiked/ran and talked about ultra running. As with most things in life, talking about a difficult activity while doing it seems to make it less mind numbingly hard.

    Eventually Ryan picked up the pace, and I started getting protein bonks. Taking gels only in a race only works for so long for me, and eventually I have to get in some protein to catalyze the sugar. I got back to the Mineral Basin Aid Station on fumes and had 10 grams of protein and a couple cups of coke to get ready for the big climb up the looming Baldy Peak. Heading up to 11,000ft three times in a 50K is pretty stout, but it would be foolish to think that the characteristically unpredictable course would just take a natural ascetic line up to the peak. Instead, we marched from 9,500ft to 10,500ft and then avoided the ridge trail that led up to the peak and instead dropped 300ft to a nondescript, steep, grassy bowl where we found a line of blue flags going 800ft straight up the bowl.

    To put it in perspective, it would be like if you were on the 5th floor of a building, and you needed to get to the tenth floor, and for no reason at all, you took the stairs down to the 2nd floor and then turned around and took the stairs up to the 10th floor. This would be the overwhelming pattern for the rest of the race.

    From Baldy Peak I could see Hidden Peak less than a mile away, the top of our last descent. I had 23 miles on my watch, and reasoned one could run down to the saddle and up to Hidden Peak to retrace the first 9 miles of the race and call it a day. Instead the course took a left at the saddle and headed down to Tunnel AS (where we ran through a tunnel), and dropped down to 9,600 for a 3rd climb to 11,000 ft.

    Climbing Baldy Peak from the bowl to the right, Photo by Brad Harris

    It was warm and there was good reason to take salt and hydrate, but I seemed to be favoring an overly minimalist approach to just get the race over with. A foolish mistake on my part, and good reinforcement to be patient at UTMB and force in the calories, salt, and water. The climb up the ridge to Hidden Peak was unnecessarily slow in my stubborn and stupefied state. I could've easily taken 10-15 minutes off my 30 minute mile with proper nutrition, but I wasn't feeling very considerate for myself.

    There was definitely a bit of a "dark with no silver lining" place I was at between the two peaks. I was mad at my shoes, mad at my gel soaked shirt, made at the course, and mad at myself for wasting this trip to Utah with my injury in July. My mind raced from mistake to mistake that made me wonder what I would do in France, how I would recover, and what I needed to avoid any more mistakes in this long and painful year. Ultras are at an unsustainable place right now: elite runners go all over the world with expectations to have all the experience and fitness to dominate. However, there's a lot of opportunities for new ultra runners to come into a race and excel with talent that hasn't been burnt out, mistakes that can be easily absorbed, and injuries that haven't accumulated to any measurable amount. In a way, it reminds me of being the middle son (with two sisters) growing up. 

    I'd like to say I've done a ton of races, but I'm not even halfway to 100 ultras. I'd like to say I'm young at 28, and ready to run hard, but I'm actually carrying a few injuries and recovering slower than before. I'd like to say I'm on the verge of a great race, but I know that great is easily diluted today in races that have dozens of new up and comers that can melt themselves down to their core and make a hard fought finishing time appear average. Growing up, I wanted women's equality to mean that my sisters and I did equal chores, but I did the majority. I wanted my sisters to get punished for their transgressions as severely as I did, but alas I got the best punishments. I wanted to freedom to stay out late and do as I please, but alas I had the tightest leash. 

    At Hidden Peak at mile 27, when I heard we had another 6 miles to go as I was getting passed, I gulped down some Coke and gingerly tip toed down the trail of talus. I understood all the fairness that I perceived was simply never there, and I worked my butt off to stay upright and hold my position for another 5 miles of rough terrain and unnecessary hills, shoulder to shoulder with 5 runners that had finished less combined ultras than myself. 

    I crossed the finish line and felt a huge relief wash over my sore and exhausted body. Though we stood at 7,800 feet, it felt very similar to my first 50k finish seven years ago. The summer afternoon air of July was calm and warm; the trail smoothed out to a buttery and merciful grade, and my body pumped with adrenaline allowing my mind to leave the pain and soreness of the previous 31 miles behind for a gentle landing among kind and welcoming volunteers.
    The "Final" Descent
    32.6 miles, 11,800ft, 7:36 



    Weekly total:

    • 58.1mi
    •  
    • 11h 27m
    •  
    • 16,627ft

    Monday, July 20, 2015

    July 13-19

    It's tough to nail down good training with a lot of travel, and it's also tough to get it right with a few "not quite bad/not quite ok" niggles around the body. So, though I would've ideally seen a few more miles logged on my Strava in July, I made peace with easing back into a gradual build into August with non-ideal fitness for Speedgoat 50k. That's a far cry from the Unicorn of yester years who would lower his horn and stamp his hooves till the numbers moved and the adrenals ached.

    Listening to Warren Olney tonight on my way home, I heard an interesting argument against letting persons under 21 use E-Cigarettes. The argument from the 21+ movement was that Nicotine affects the development of the brain, and the age at which an individual has the ability to have the maturity to be able to use nicotine and decide how to use it responsibly is 26-28 years old. They knew they couldn't get the country to accept 27 years of age, so they went with lobbying for tobacco use to only be allowed 21+. It brought up an interesting idea of how rental cars charge an extra fee for persons 25 and under, how most professional athletes out of college still don't (usually) become championship athletes for 3-5 years, and how most people in their late 20's are not interested in dating people in their early 20's (usually, except for the industrial grade magnetic pull I had on Katie).

    Thus, I suppose that my current approach to running is about a matter of time and place in life. I don't have a big agenda about calculating the perfect training and believing that I am all or nothing, but I rather have a desire for the cool and clean moments when a "Whoooo-OOOOP!" comes naturally out of my lungs, and I can sense a balance of power and joy in my legs for a few minutes in the middle of a run. I enjoy that feeling so much, that I let my body talk to me and tell me what it needs to give me more of those experiences. In the end, I might lose a bit of fitness and gain a pound or two, but I get the promise of enjoying a workout and feeling momentum throughout the year. For what it's worth, this might be the first time I feel good in Autumn!

    Tuesday: Test jog around the golf course for the soleus: I found out it needs the AIS stretching routine daily and that it was going to heal with some gentle running and stretching.

    Wednesday: Test workout 4x1min and 1x2min. I couldn't go all out, but I could get the heart rate up and focus on getting my mojo back with a little adrenaline rush in the morning. All systems seemed to be responding (although I didn't have the HR strap, I could tell my heart was responsive).

    Thurs: Convo pace up Temescal, enjoyed some apparent progress on the sandstone with the Coyote run

    Fri: Easy run at Inspiration Point - rather beautiful and idyllic run that made my lungs feel strong and capable. I think there's some undeniable benefit to being at high altitude for a few days, and coming back to recover at sea level for a boost of RBC and general confidence in the San Gabes.

    One weekend in the San Gabes..

    Sat: After staying up late watching the fire, we finally got some sleep and made our way up to Blue Ridge for some cold, wet, and windy July running. The storm was great for the fire, and made our fun run to the CG a bit nippy but exhilarating. Again, the lungs felt perfectly fine on Acorn.

    Sun: Attempted to get in a 5x5min interval workout in the window of no-rain afforded by Weather.com, but instead we got gradually more and more clobbered by the storm cell opening up on Blue Ridge. The intervals looked great on the HR monitor, with 165+ BPM for most of the intervals, I got a good feeling about my adrenals being receptive for Saturday. The workout stopped at 4 reps when the rain turned to hail and the lightning fired up.. So we just did a quick cool down back to a flash flood threatening to take our deck away. Luckily we built a quick set of dams and kept the water in a stream around the house.

    • 41.7mi
    •  
    • 7h 14m
    •  
    • 9,686ft
    • Not a great number for July, but plenty of good signs for things to come in August.

    Monday, July 13, 2015

    July 6-12

    After coming back from Hardrock, one can't help but feel optimistic about the sport and the raw power of the amazing runner's high found in the San Juans. The race involves some questionable risk taking in some big mountains (which accordingly attract some big storms), but the way the race supports runners and the way pacers/crews and runners work together make the dream a little more possible each year (despite some cold and wet storms, only 23% of the field dropped). There's some inherent vice to be expected: worn out lungs, crushed quads, sleep and oxygen deprived brains, and frozen/soaked bodies; but the scenery is so inviting, and the way the race organization and volunteers go the extra mile(s) to make the race happen is so inspiring that the optimism for the sport's potential to live up to lofty ideals seems realistic.



    At 7am, Katie and I drove over to Cunningham Gulch to be greeted by a surly parking enforcement volunteer (that also happened to be an amazing runner), Mr. Dakota Jones that was volunteering just for the race. He could've been hanging out and watching the race like everyone else, but instead he took it upon himself to do the worst job in ultrarunning to give something back to the race so that the BLM Officers couldn't find fault with the race. This was just one of many volunteers that came from all over the world to contribute to the race (see The African Attachment's "Kroger Canteen" episode July 14th).

    At any rate, I got to run and hike for 10 hours/25 miles with Matt Hart. Traveling and my soleus pain limited my training elsewhere in the week, but I felt great at altitude and enjoyed my time in Silverton. More stretching and strengthening to happen this week to get a little confidence before I go to Snowbird for Speedgoat 50k next week.

    Tuesday, July 7, 2015

    June 22 - July 25

    I have lots to write about, but not a lot of time, so I'll glaze over my stream on consciousness for the past two weeks:

    June 22-28
    Monday - Off, not feeling too bad, but definitely worthy of a rest after the high-quality 104 mile week

    Tuesday - 10 mi - Time Trial up Green Peak: 32:48 was just 20 seconds off my PR for the 3.6 mile/1600ft climb. It's funny to look at the numbers and think "oh that's all I can do? 8:55/mi??" But Temescal doesn't have much straight lines or consistent terrain, so over the years, I've grown to accept that anything under 35 minutes for guys is a decent level of fitness, and anything close to 30 is a good push. Overall, I was glad to see that the intervals and lower mileage allowed me to run hard and not feel too tired or worn out. #Progress

    Wednesday - So that yucca barb in my ankle (that the Dr. said wasn't in my ankle" was just begging to come out. I went for it, and when it came out, my ankle shifted again from homeostasis into chaos and started to throb quite a bit. I cleaned it up good, but the bump around it seemed to want another day to heal.

    Thursday - 3.5mi - Went up and down Westridge Canyon Back and felt the ankle yipping a bit, which made me nervous for pacing Jorge at Western States. Mentally I was ready to back down and pace him whatever the ankle allowed, but emotionally I was depressed I couldn't see myself taking my friend 40 miles to the finish.

    Friday - 6.5mi - After driving up halfway Thursday and religiously cleaning and covering the wound and keeping the ankle elevated, I started to see some progress. We drove back to Duncan Canyon and spent an idyllic and relaxing afternoon running and cooking dinner. Once the sun went down, we banked some sleep overlooking French Meadows Reservoir.

    Saturday - 40 mi - I could write a novel about the lessons Jorge Pacheco has taught me in running. Some runners are gifted and graced with a professional set up to allow them every opportunity for rest, recovery, coaching, etc. etc. Jorge and I find ourselves in another form of a blessed set-up: just enough time to train, full time jobs, wonderful partners, and race experiences that are rarely perfect or ideal. Mari got sick the week before, and Jorge got sick during race week with the flu. That meant that Jorge spent his last sleep before the race sweating profusely with a fever and unable to sleep. When the race started, he made it one mile before collapsing and watching the entire field go by (Gordy included). By the time he made it to Duncan Canyon, he'd figured out his limitations of his flu and jogged back into the mid-pack. 

    He battled his nausea and fever all day, shaking uncontrollably in aid stations and throwing up occasionally to find his way to Forresthill where I would take him 40 miles to a 22:43 finish. I saw him at all ends of the spectrum; running, throwing up, on the verge of knocking out, and finally a proud finisher that made the most of his imperfect day. Not many pundits pick him to win big races, but he doesn't change the way he goes into his training to be a champion no matter what the circumstances of life may dictate. 

    He did multiple long 60-100 mile training weekends, and did all the speedwork and long runs needed to run in the top 10, and when all his hard work was for naught on race day, he put his head down and kept going. We talked a lot and joked along the way, but one thing was certain in my mind after we finished "I am going to finish my races if there's any way possible at all".

    Sunday - Recovery drive back to LA

    58 miles, 13:30, 11,000ft+ - Not a bad recovery week, banked some sleep before Western, and got some major inspiration from the trip (as always).

    June 29-July 5
    Monday - Slept in and rested

    Tuesday - 7.5 mi - Back to a bit of VO2max work before the long weekend hit. 9x2min got the HR up on the steep and arduous J-Drop climb. Calf/Soleus were a little concerned, but nothing too bad. Interesting data from the HR monitor showing me how long it takes my heart to get up above 170, and how my body responds to speedwork now. Definitely a bit of turbo-lag..

    Wednesday - 8mi - Easy run in Sullivan Canyon, just what I needed to get ready for the long weekend.

    Thursday - 0!! - Missed out on running due to logistics. Also, didn't feel like going running in the evening and then waking up at 3am for the real run.

    Friday - 19 mi/10,000ft/6:30 - Sleep Deprivation is a real problem that I'll have to overcome for UTMB. Though I felt awful, the 3 AM run went okay, and I eventually got into a groove and started getting efficient with my poles. I was also glad that the overly-technical trails of Mt. Baldy didn't trip me up in my zombie like stupor. The goal for UTMB is to minimize stupid mistakes, so that's what the run appeared to tell me I could do. It honestly felt like something out of a good military hazing exercise, minus anyone else making me do it, or anyone else on the mountain.

    Saturday - 22mi/3,200ft/3:20 - AC course from Cloudburst to Shortcut is a great trail run. Compared to Friday, I was flying along and enjoying the running. I hadn't practiced any heat training yet, and Guillaume sure enough pulled away on Mt. Hilyer and Chilao. We ran in the middle of the day to simulate the real heat he'd feel, and he did very well (even without crew or ice bandannas). Eventually I got it done below CR time as well, but I was glad I wasn't expecting any heat at UTMB. Oh, and the soleus seemed to be a little annoyed again after Friday's large elevation gain.

    Sunday - 28mi/5,600/5:46 - The recovery process on Saturday wasn't ideal and the heat and calf pain stopped me from going for the full 40 mile push to Altadena. I think I do need more work on taking care of myself in training, but when it comes down to it, I'm already in shape and already adept in the mountains. The rest of the runs I'll do for UTMB will just be reinforcing the good habits, and avoiding any over-training mistakes/injuries. HR data was interesting, I felt pain but couldn't get my HR as high as the day before.. Might have been the bad sleep we got in the noisy campground at Chilao or the body just being tired from Friday's early run. 

    88mi/22,000ft/19:00 - A pretty long week in terms of time and suffering. I think my goal of running UTMB smart is pretty much a matter of getting to the start line sharp and fresh, so looking back on the spring, it makes sense why my body is starting to say no to more mileage and training. Likewise, my training schedule accounted for this and isn't too demanding leading up to the race. This weekend at Hardrock is completely a matter of getting out and hiking and enjoying the San Juans, no pressure or insecurity to workout or do anything serious.