tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76631851590326027062024-03-17T00:22:09.565-07:00Over the Peak and Through the PinesDominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.comBlogger553125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-27806023554067763312018-02-26T23:01:00.003-08:002018-02-26T23:01:59.138-08:00Where We Belong, Part 2 of 5, Jan-March 2017Katie and I had just returned from our yearly Christmas Pilgrimage to Missouri (seeing her side of the family and a certain bulldog named "Stella" is a religous experience of the best kind), where we had announced (to unanimous approval) that we were leaving the city to live in Wrightwood full time. Her extended family had seen LA and Wrightwood, and believed we were making the right decision. We returned home and continued going through the junk we needed and didn't need (most of it) with a sense of adventure, eagerness, and anxiety. The adventure of experiencing the town and the local trails in a new way, the eagerness to get through a move that was going to be painful due to our lack of pre-existing organization, and the anxiety was for things that may go wrong that we had know idea about (our budget, standard rural hardships, response to altitude, etc.) were strong feelings that dominated our thoughts. Whether we wanted things to go slow or fast didn't matter, we were already in the saddle.<br />
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<b><i>Snowy Welcome</i></b><br />
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For the first time in the last few years, Wrightwood broke 90" of snowfall, which conveniently keep our moving truck from making it up our road until late February. This is a beautiful thing in the moment, and something that makes you proud of where you live. In the following days when temperatures are in the teens, and you missed your opportunity to shovel powder, you are so upset and frustrated with the rock hard snow that you just might throw your back out hacking it with a pick ax. We had a storm on January 21st that deposited a solid 20" of snow. I unfortunately was back in LA with Katie packing up the rest of our apartment, and when I arrived two days later on Monday night, I found a most glorious house warming (freezing) present: a good 2 hours of shoveling frozen snow out of our driveway so I could park my car and walk inside. By the time I laid down later that night, my back was in knots and I laid in bed exhausted and in pain. Never mind that I had to work on shoveling even more snow so that Katie had a spot to park later in the week, or that I was supposed to run the Sean O'Brien 100k in two weeks (I didn't/couldn't), or that I was starting a new job that had jam packed days and little down time, or that our drought busting winter had even more snowfall in the forecast... The snow had to be shoveled.<br />
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<b><i>Job Anxiety</i></b><br />
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Over the course of my life, Catholic school, growing up in LA, NCAA Division I Cross-Country and Track, college engineering classes, and the real world as we know it had fostered a healthy believe that I was an impostor in every aspect. I was a Catholic that probably sinned too much, I wasn't a child phenom at anything, I rarely ever made the traveling team on my college track team, I struggled in more than one engineering class, I applied to dozens and dozens of internships before I was accepted to one, and I got laid off from my first engineering job. At my last job, I had received a promotion, and gotten a good taste of engineering leadership, but I didn't achieve all I had wanted to when I left. Starting in a new field of engineering with six talented and experienced engineers looking at me to lead them, I didn't exactly feel like I belonged. I was lucky that my boss encouraged me to "fail fast" and speak up because occasionally getting something right were the morsels of success I needed to believe in myself and stay through the low points. Still, I believed that eventually my boss would have a 1 on 1 with me and explain that my time was up. The immediacy of our next big program, the engineers on my team that were quitting, and the high expectations for my position were surely good reasons to explain that I wasn't going to fit in with a fast moving research and development department.<br />
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Yet, my self-doubt had an equal in my mind, and that was real admiration for my new company. Before I had started, I had read a book about the development of the original Predator UAV. In 1991, General Atomics bought Leading Systems Inc's tooling, airframes, and designs, and brought over a small team of 10 engineers. The company grew almost every year and filled a new role in the aerospace industry in which it became famous for high reliability, cost effective, customer centric designs. As an engineer, these three descriptions are rarely used in the same sentence, yet GA had developed a culture that made this a reality. Going from reading the book to actually working at the company, I was really impressed with how coherent this philosophy was across the company of 8,000+ people. It felt good to be apart of a team that hustled everyday to reach such ideal engineered solution, and my fear of being an imposter was challenged by my sheer desire to work here long enough to see our next aircraft's first flight. So, even though I was always nervous, stressed out, and working long hours, I kept on going to work each day excited to see what was next.<br />
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<b><i>Running at altitude</i></b><br />
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There is a certain ideal in ultra running that if you can become a good runner at altitude, you can be a great runner anywhere. Though I'd raced and trained at altitude a fair amount in my career, I'd never lived up high full time. Sleeping at 6,600 feet every night, our cabin was not the get up early and go train at. I would set my alarm for 5:30, but with no one to meet at the freezing and snowy trail head, I rarely got a run started before 6:30, and would have less than a few miles to huff and puff through befoe I'd have to jump in my car and head in to work at 7:30. I'd sometimes run at work at 3,000 feet, but the sandy, flat, fire roads of the desert were less than inspiring. Eventually I would head back to sea level and feel a boost of energy, but the rest of the time in Wrightwood was much slower plodding along.<br />
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I had signed up for the Georgia Death Race after pulling out of Sean O'Brien 100k. I knew that I'd have to be ready to run hard on technical and steep Appalachian trails, but there wasn't much similar terrain during the week in Wrightwood to train on. The steep and technical trails were under a significant amount of snow that only left icy ridges to (very slowly) hike up or lower snow free trails that were more mild and gentle that the rock and root fest awaiting me. I began to realize how much easier training in the Santa Monica mountains was in the winter, and why my peers from snowier regions rarely raced in the early spring..<br />
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Still, I would be remiss if I didn't mention how magical a feeling it was to run everyday at Inspiration Point watching the forest, desert, and city come to life from a peaceful and surreal vantage point. Occasionally I'd see another person braving the cold, but most of the time it was a completely solitary and spiritual experience. I didn't miss the dirt during the snowy weeks as the highway was so empty and scenic that it met most of my requirements for what I get out of trail running. Getting started in the cold felt a lot like jumping into a pool to swim laps, but eventually I'd warm up, and would spend the rest of the run grinning from ear to ear at my luck to spend every morning here. I didn't know how long this privileged would last, and I stopped in my tracks more than once and gawked at how lucky I was to be here even if things didn't work out.<br />
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One big benefit of the new job was the 9/80 aerospace schedule. Every other Friday was off, and I made the most of those days. I would go snowboard or snowshoe, get in a good long run, and run errands done without the threat of snow play crowds. Just the freedom of a 3 day weekend itself would help me settle nervous energy and spend quality time with Katie who was busy working remotely for her former employer. Without those weekends, I don't know how I would've found enough time to enjoy the main reason we moved to Wrightwood (mountains, duh).<br />
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<b><i>The Reality</i></b><br />
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We were really not ready for the move. We had spent years ignoring all of our material possessions and stacking junk on top of junk, which had resulted in an absurd amount of magazines, running gear, old scrap books, and semi-useful gear that came with us to Wrightwood. The moving package from GA packed and moved everything for us, which was nice except for the fact that didn't have enough time or space in the dumpster to get rid of all the junk we didn't need, and the rest was packed and padded thoroughly. When the moving truck finally made it up our road, we were made prisoners of a box fort that we didn't have time to go through as Katie was still working extremely long hours.<br />
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Though we had a cheaper cost of living than the city, we also had to pay all our bills and save up for trips and purchases. Those that know the contractor life know that the feast and famine nature makes it tough to balance work and the rest of life. It wasn't 100% of Katie's waking hours, but there were days when it felt like it was all she did anymore in life.<br />
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Wrightwood isn't a food desert, but it's not a cornucopia either. In LA, you can have ten places in the burger, pizza, Mexican, salad bar, coffee, bakery, vegan categories within 15 min of you. We found simple joy in Tuesday margarita specials at the Mexico Lindo, but the menu didn't really change. We were so busy, we didn't notice it much, but after a few nights out we started to get excited when we'd head back to the city for the old favorites.<br />
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The small mountain luxuries became big things for us. Laying on the couch in silence and watching snow fall, walking to the back of the canyon to take a moment for ourselves to reflect, and sitting in the car and watching the sunset at Inspiration Point was incredibly fulfilling. We had done these activities on the weekends and loved the cabin life, but knowing that there was no looming drive back to the city in 24 hours made these little luxuries incredibly satisfying.<br />
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At the end of each day, we went to bed and realized we were really stressed but really grateful for the mountains being apart of our everyday life. Much like when we worked long hours in the city to enjoy its small perks, we were pushing ourselves hard for perks that meant more to us than anything else in the city ever had. We were nervous, we were worried, but we were also really, really, really grateful for every week that things worked out.<br />
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Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com272tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-18068530166075001692018-01-30T07:29:00.001-08:002018-01-30T07:33:28.013-08:00Where We Belong, Prelude, Part 1 of 5<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Prelude, 2009-January 2017</span></div>
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A year ago Katie and I drove up to our cabin in Wrightwood, CA -not for the usual Friday-Sunday weekend trip -but rather the final drive out of a city that we had grown increasingly unaccustomed to. Before I delve into the true reason for this four part series of blogs on our first year of living in the mountains, I'll share our perspective on why it became necessary for us to make this move from traffic to trees, from apartments to alpine.</div>
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How did this happen?</div>
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Katie and I were textbook working professionals/ultrarunners. We trained hard early in the mornings, went to work at high stress jobs in advertising and engineering, checked the high country webcams at lunch, came home exhausted and famished to feast on frozen pizza, planned out road trips for the weekend, and rushed out of the office every Friday afternoon into a wagon packed with food, sleeping bags, and running gear. If we didn't get on the 405 before 4 PM on a Friday, there was rarely a kind word said until we escaped the clutches of LA traffic and were streaking across the state towards the trail head we had dreamed of since Monday morning. Though we both were making decent money, we were so hungry for picturesque "runscapes" and epic training routes that we ended up spending most of our money traveling as far as we could in the 60 hours we had each weekend.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canyonlands, worth the drive</td></tr>
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When my sedan began to require maintenance in excess of it's net worth (I still can't believe people don't want to pay more than four grand for a Volvo with a mere 169,000 miles on it), we began looking at the next car that had decent gas mileage and could sleep two people comfortably in the back of it. Though we acquired Mister Volvo Two, a V50 wagon that we could fold the seats down and sleep in the back of, we soon realized that our lifestyle was wearing us out more than a few hours of sleep could repair.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mister Volvo Two</td></tr>
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<br />I began looking at cabin prices in Wrightwood and found that mostly intact cabins started at around $150,000, and incessantly talked about them with Katie on our usual sleep deprived trips. One weekend, we had driven through particularly bad traffic and made it up to Lone Pine at midnight. We awoke around 7 AM to prepare to summit Mt. Russell, and though I could not complain about the amazing sunrise or the gorgeous view out the back of the trunk, I couldn't stop complaining about how tired I was and how much better the frigid morning could be if for once we could drink coffee inside a warm cabin. We actually spent a good two to three hours gawking about the prospects of waking up in the mountains in an actual a bed, making a hot breakfast, jogging from our door to a trail head, having an amazing run, and then... TAKING A HOT SHOWER!!!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Katie, busy appreciating my thoughts on cabin life</td></tr>
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This isn't to say that dirtbagging isn't a good time, or that we weren't ever going to camp again, but after years of trying to do everything, we were at a breaking point. We couldn't just quit our jobs because of student loans and other responsibilities, we couldn't stay home on the weekends and not get deep into the backcountry, and we couldn't defy the space-time continuum and find any more hours to sleep or any closer trails that we loved as much as the San Gabriel High Country and the greater American West. We were pros at our jobs and wearing ourselves out because we never gave up on work or running. By the end of 2014, after six years of working long hours and playing even longer hours, we had successfully broke ourselves. So, in December when we found our dream cabin at the start of the Acorn Trail, we were beyond excited to be Wrightwood weekenders. We had finally earned a bed in the pines!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical Monday during the "We're breaking ourselves" phase</td></tr>
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From 2015-2016, we spend most weekends at the cabin, and loved every second we got to spend in Wrightwood. We annoyed our coworkers almost every Monday with stories and pictures of idyllic weekend getaways, but we also became even better workers and runners because we were not constantly haggard and sleep deprived. We both believed that our cabin was an investment, and that our 30 year mortgage would be finished just in time for us to retire at the cabin. When we arrived each Friday evening, we were ecstatic and joyfully bounded inside to make dinner and watch DVDs by the fire. When we left on Sunday Nights/Monday Mornings, we were depressed, but told ourselves that along with the millions of other people headed into work, that the city was a necessary evil, and something that we had to survive to pay the bills to enjoy our cabin.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first night in the cabin! It was cold!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our new weekend life included this, follow by a hot shower</td></tr>
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Katie and I still went on some amazing trips: to Europe, Colorado, Oregon, Washington, Yosemite, Mammoth, Zion, Moab, Montana, etc. etc. but we would always be excited to come back the next weekend to the cabin. It was no surprise that when we got married on Memorial Day in 2016, we chose Wrightwood as the venue. As the saying goes, "first comes marriage, then comes Dominic with the existential crisis of how to raise a child in the city without going completely insane and becoming a shell of his former self." Katie and I began having hard talks about whether we'd have to sell the cabin to buy a severely overpriced condo in West LA (for those wondering, a decent two bedroom in a good school district is no less than 700k). We tried to fathom raising kids in the city, and leaving the mountains behind to pursue our jobs and be good parents, but we (un)fortunately had our dream cabin and couldn't bear the thought of selling it. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Married in the Pines</td></tr>
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I would often spend my lunches at work watching the Wrightwood webcam, and in-between daydreaming of running on Blue Ridge, I began to notice that the town wasn't empty in the middle of the week. At the main stop sign in town, cars would pile of 5-7 deep during "rush hour", and file through fairly regularly. The gears in my mind slowly turned that in these cars, were people, and though some of these people might be retired, most retired people don't drive during rush hour for no reason. Perhaps, just maybe, there were jobs nearby, and these people were actually working nearby and LIVING IN WRIGHTWOOD! I raced to Google maps, zoomed in on Wrightwood, then began clicking around in the desert to the North, looking for any signs of life and/or engineering work. The power of the internet was about to have a life changing effect as I suddenly found "General Atomics" in Adelanto, a mere 35 minute drive from Wrightwood. Clicking over to their employment page, I gave myself more credit than my resume deserved, and began applying to all engineering leadership positions I could find. Flight Operations? Yeah, I've flown on planes. Fuel Systems? Sure, I pump my own gas. I submitted my resume, and then eagerly checked my e-mail... for the next 4 months. </div>
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Eventually, in November, I got called in for an interview for a Fuel Systems Supervisor position. Again, did I know what a pilot valve or a jet pump did? No, but I had pumped my own gas, and had never been terrible in interviews. Much like two years before, I giddily talked Katie into the dream of spending more time in the mountains, and with her support, I.. eventually got the job after a month of interviews!!!</div>
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Suddenly our plan of retiring in Wrightwood became an immediate reality and we were making dozens of trips to Goodwill preparing for our move. Were we really ready for this drastic shift from mind-numbing traffic to shoveling 20" of snow to get in the house? Were two LA yuppies really ready for months of freezing temperatures, no Trader Joe's within 45 minutes of us, no hot yoga studios, no Acai Bowl cafes, no gastropubs, and no bougie coffee shops? Would I actually be good at the job I barely got, and would Katie be able to find freelance work? The most important question of all was, would we actually be happier? Were we in love with all the charms of Wrightwood because we always came up with a cooler of our favorite food, and never had to be away from our friends for more than a few days? </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first day at GA</td></tr>
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Katie continued working remotely for RPA for a few months, I dove into an engineering field I had no clue about, and we snuggled tight to keep warm at night and convince each other we weren't alone. At ages 30 and 33, we were struggling to start over again, free of traffic, but also free of all the creature comforts and friends we had taken for granted for the last 8 years.</div>
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Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com75tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-37646059362343540092016-08-04T15:01:00.000-07:002016-08-04T15:01:18.022-07:00<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">The 2016 Angeles Crest 100 Mile, Men's race preview (live tracking Saturday is available at <a dir="ltr" href="http://www.ac100.com/live" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1" x-apple-data-detectors-type="link" x-apple-data-detectors="true">www.ac100.com/live</a> )</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">The wilderness exemptions have dried up with the new Forest Service supervisor and increased scrutiny of the San Gabriel Mountains National Monument, leaving the race flatter and more paved through its tough 26-49 mile section. From my experience running the course, I admit it is 30 minutes (+/- 15 min) faster that before, but also hotter than before. Temperatures are looking favorable with highs around 79-85, which puts a reasonable winning time in the 17-19 hour range. Races in the San Gabes are full of character, so no guarantees are ever given. The race for the win generally starts between Shortcut and Chantry Flats (miles 59-74), so pay attention to the feed around <a dir="ltr" href="x-apple-data-detectors://2" x-apple-data-detectors-result="2" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">2pm</a>!</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Jorge Pacheco has finished AC 9 times, won it 4 times, and DNF'd 4 times. To put a trend line on the 48 year old Jorge and predict his 2016 race is impossible when you look at his solid training and race results this year. Generally though, he is guaranteed to win if he is leading and feeling well at Chantry (mi 74)</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Guillaume Calmettes has 1 finish and 1 DNF under his belt, but they don't tell the full story of this champion in the making. In 2014 his quad cramped and tore so badly that he had to limp the last 11 miles downhill in 4 hours to <a dir="ltr" href="x-apple-data-detectors://3" x-apple-data-detectors-result="3" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">a 22:43</a>, taking away a rightful sub-20 finish and possible win. In 2015 he mysteriously developed kidney problems at mi 45, and limped to a DNF at 59. Those events pale in comparison to the raw number of good long runs the 32 year old has completed for the race, and his ability to find bottomless energy deep within his adrenal glands. He is a favorite to win if he can find ways to ease back when the adrenaline is pumping too hard. </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Ruperto Romero is a 9 time, sub24 finisher with 1 win and zero DNF's. Most out of town folks are surprised to not know of him each year, but the locals know the 52 year old "Speedy Gonzalez" as a humble and determined competitor that uses his small size and infrequent racing well to be able to lay out epic finishes year after year. He is a favorite to win as a former 2014 champion. </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Jerry Garcia is a 38 year badass National Forest Firefighter (former hotshot) that is a second generation ultra runner (Dad, Manuel Garcia also ran AC in 2003). The local folks in the San Gabriel mountains have seen some great training and racing from Jerry in the 50k-50mi distance, and his first 100mi at Chimera last year was a learning experience over <a dir="ltr" href="x-apple-data-detectors://4" x-apple-data-detectors-result="4" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">22:29</a>hours. That said, Jerry would be tough to bet against if he is leading at Sam Merrill, mile 89. He'll have to execute a cautious and calculated race to get there first. </span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Joel Frost-Tift is making his 100 mile debut at AC, which is a tough race to start with. Undeterred, he's been training on the course all year, putting in hard miles covered in jackets and extra water. His <a dir="ltr" href="x-apple-data-detectors://5" x-apple-data-detectors-result="5" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">1:08</a>/2:26 times in the half/marathon should make his pace of the paced and fireroad sections unmatched, but the rest of the field will be gunning for a technical blood bath over the last 25, where PR's will be about as useful as a microwave.</span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"></span><br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Your's Truly, Dominic Grossman has ran 4 sub 24 finishes, enjoyed 2 wins, and no DNF's. The year started off moderately well at Avalon 50, then suffered a scare in adrenal fatigue at Lake Sonoma, before some hamstring issues came up after high mileage/high heat training in June. The Mt. Disappointment 50k put those worries to rest after my PT cleared out tightness in my sitbone and allowed me to race pain free and fast. The result is I know what not to do at AC, and am primed for a 18-20 hour finish. This race is the best I've felt all year in terms of optimism and general fitness. I locate my true north in the San Gabes, and the race is my favorite place to run hard. </span>Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-23685516563760468282016-06-20T20:53:00.002-07:002016-06-21T06:57:29.858-07:00Finding Finesse in the Heat of the Summer 100<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9.5pt;">This weekend I spent some of my more energetic waking hours running through the San Gabriel's in the hottest temperatures seen this year. There's plenty of posts from folks (myself included) that argue the finer points of what specific "secrets" or "tricks" are important to know for navigating these mountains, ridges, canyons, and creeks with the greatest joy and minimal amount of unnecessary pain. As far as running through challenging terrain in fiery heat goes, there sometimes isn't any way to sidestep the inherently difficult task at hand.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9.5pt;">When the general public is notified of "the toughest endurance event" through various mass media outlets, there's ample hyperbolas to describe the heat, distance and/or combination of unique, one of a kind obstacles found only at Kona or Death Valley. Still, if one finds themselves out in the exposed and sun drenched Cooper Canyon at mile 35 of the Angeles Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run, there's another level of challenge that other "internationally recognized pinnacles of endurance" can't quite replicate. There's the terrain itself which bucks upwards and downwards at 20% in sections; there's the perfectly still 95 degree air that awaits competitors with a money back guarantee to roast them like a Thanksgiving Turkey; there's the sheer distances of 4+ miles of climbing to the next aid station and the 4+ miles behind them from the last one that they came from leaving their body in vulnerable drought conditions; and there's the simple fact that just getting through the first 26 miles of pre-heating requires 7,000 feet of climbing before entering "the oven" which means the average runner is already in some degree of extremis. The mind bakes, the legs ache, the trail climbs, the air is still, and the next 75 miles of racing still have more heat, longer stretches without aid, more climbing, and plenty of bone jarring terrain that will demand much more than just running from the competitor. The challenge is distinct and undeniable: move quickly through the hot spots, manage fluid/electrolyte/calorie intake, use whatever tools you have available to keep cool, and don't lose your mind as it bakes in your skull.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9.5pt;">I suppose the last point above was the toughest part of my Sunday run from mile 52, Chilao to mile 68, Newcomb Pass. I've felt the burn of the Badwater, and experienced my kidneys slowing down to a near complete stop due to overheating, but the difference at Badwater was that I had a crew vehicle available every mile of the 135 miles of paved road. Midday Sunday, in the 95 degree heat of the San Gabriel backcountry, I didn’t have a car and attentive crew monitoring me every 8 minutes. The exposed and reflective heat of the Silver Moccasin trail was a technical and searing frying pan, and I was a 150 lbs spat of tissue trying to unload heat in engulfing (metaphorical) flames. Now, had it have been a nice day, I would've trotted along enjoying the sights and sounds, but it was over 90 degrees and climbing, and I was sweating faster than I could absorb water from my stomach into my bloodstream. Indeed, it was something to be worried about since the day was only getting hotter, and the next stretch would be some 12 miles without water. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9.5pt;">The "secret" or "trick" for me today wasn't in the little tricks like running from shade to shade like an ant being burned by a microscope, or sitting in the water of the (sure to be dry by race day) Westfork of the San Gabriel River, or the ample use of salt. No, it was already apparent the day before when I ran the first 38 miles of the course, that I needed something more than just combating the heat. All these things individually were less important and effective than the overarching concept of finesse.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9.5pt;">I will admit- I've had plenty of laughable moments in my time in the mountains that have shown I have an utter lack of finesse. However, my bones don’t move with unrestrained vigor as they used to thanks to running in said steep, hot, humbling mountains for the last 8 years. I'm on the exposed and burning hot "Edison Road" that hides hot pockets of air easily over 100 degrees, and I start to recall memories of my worst moments in this canyon. Not a complete thought forms, but I slightly turn my toes inward to ease the impact on my knees, I shift my pack to adjust the load of my water, I listen to my breathing and hold it in for an extra moment to avoid tight and sore lungs, I sip my water when my mouth is just dry enough to earn a swig, I ingest a salt and a gel when the trail and I agree that my heart rate can slow for a moment to divert extra blood to the stomach, and I keep my mind solely focused on moving as efficiently as possible to the top of the climb through a combination of running and hiking that match the slight variations of my core body temperature. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Cajon Pass</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9.5pt;">The finesse isn't in doing all those things, but doing them with grace, timing and synchronicity of the heart, body, mind, and terrain. The people that do this exceptionally well look like freight trains climbing and descending the Cajon Pass; an event that transpires dozens of times a day with great ease and insane amounts of well-placed force. Trains typical weigh in at 15,000-20,000 tons (on the 2.2% grade Cajon Pass, 33,000-44,000HP would be necessary to get over the grade). However, there aren’t always 7-10 locomotives available to do the work of pulling a train straight over the hill. Momentum is used to get a running start that allows the train to coast over the 2 mile hill. Even just to start from a standstill, cars are linked together with slack to allow for a slow build up as momentum necessary to get up to speed. The tractive force of a single locomotive is only 180,000 lbs, but spread out over a long gradual pull, a single locomotive can move an unfathomably large amount of cargo up to speed using the low rolling friction of rail to its advantage. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9.5pt;">The same ideas apply to getting my body from Wrightwood to Altadena under my own power. The question isn't simply how much effort can I give, but how much finesse can I use to make a arduous journey a thing of art. Form is low rolling friction, momentum is getting through hot sections quickly after I've cooled myself at an aid station, and patient, consistent, guarded force is how I survive sections in excess of 100 degrees that threaten to stop me dead in my tracks.</span></div>
Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-31714617801044578342016-06-09T12:38:00.000-07:002016-06-09T12:38:53.367-07:00Marriage or Something Like It<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img height="337" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/10462698_10100694553755621_6139715012538379222_n.jpg?oh=41ce5919e36a334c25a353b35e19a233&oe=57C18F77" width="400" /></div>
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It's no secret that over the past 8 years of knowing Katie (7 of dating her) that I've grown and matured to appreciate her a lot more
than I initially did. In fact, I appreciate her so much now, that I married her this two weeks ago under the pine tree cathedral of the Grassy Hollow Amphitheater. I was thoroughly convinced that each and every word of my vows was meaningful and true, yet 7 years ago I wouldn't have believed I would ever say them to Katie. I believe that we've both grown, but within my own mind I've left behind former conservative impressions of what a wife should be. Below is a letter to myself and to any other young adult contemplating the idea of a life long marriage.<br />
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<img height="640" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/12308820_10100899733438891_5561676729541867465_n.jpg?oh=160157be095849c023c746ff66bb01de&oe=57CD32C3" width="480" /></div>
<i><br /></i>
<i>"I thought that a wife cooked every night for their husband."</i><br />
Though Katie might argue that I only marginally "cook", I have ended up preparing more meals for the highly valid reason that she is a brilliant writer that adds a lot of interesting and funny stories to the world (and makes pretty good money off freelance writing). I love reading her work in magazines or online and it makes me want to heat up even more TJ's frozen pizzas and Quinoa burgers to keep her at it.<br />
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<img height="480" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/10346456_10153225455559725_7189810900164259799_n.jpg?oh=2d28057b457ed1523b6fe5d7dea1782c&oe=58093185" width="640" /><br />
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<i>"I thought a wife always had to be put together"</i><br />
Katie refers to her loose hairs in her run bun as "stragglies", which usually is used when she's looking at a picture of herself and saying "Boy, I had a lot of stragglies, I must've been working hard." That right there is the exact definition of what makes Katie a great wife: she works really hard and doesn't hold herself back with insecurity about her hairdo or make-up status.<br />
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<img height="561" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/12592239_10100922516805841_61991878361424588_n.jpg?oh=83d805fc42ce38cd22fb97100e9d213e&oe=5801FDA3" width="640" /><br />
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<i>"I thought wives had to be perfect"</i><br />
Watch a traditional American sitcom, and there's usually a wive that is constantly making all the right moves, taking care of the kids and the comedically irresponsible husband, preparing a dinner that makes Martha Stewart look sloppy, making completely infallible decisions, and keeping her perfect streak of being a perfect wife going strong. Even still in hipster terms, perfection might be having a passion for volunteering for human rights programs or having a high paying job or leading a new workout class. I wouldn't say that Katie doesn't do some of those things, but sometimes she sleeps in and misses a run, makes a bad decision, or forgets to pack something for a trip. Be that as it may, she generally doesn't go nuts that her streak of perfection or impressive accomplishments is broken. When I was looking for a lady, this short sided idea of perfect living actually made me blind to a lot of other great things she does well like forgiving, being supportive, making fun of me, joining me on runs up big mountains, and cuddling me after a long day which is a lot more valuable than "perfection".<br />
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<img height="426" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/10426324_10100732150376691_2997987047490861282_n.jpg?oh=150b0b0bf0001a1ad4d3dd2281d82874&oe=57C0F7FD" width="640" /><br />
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<i>"I thought a wife always had to follow the lead of her husband" </i><br />
There's several trips that I personally plan each year, but there's also a ton of races or adventures that Katie pulls me towards and helps me discover. She's my equal, and I don't tell her to be quiet (unless there's a bear outside our tent) or tell her she doesn't know what she's talking about. I learn things from her, and I love the adventures she's taken me on. If I didn't have someone uniquely adventurous like her, I'd miss out on a lot of really interesting stuff.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="426" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/12871469_10100968198309741_1138354388690913289_n.jpg?oh=3ae4e5cdcfcdc3892408edced28c5313&oe=57D1A54C" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Vinny Grossman</td></tr>
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<i><br /></i>
<i>"I thought a wife was supposed to be shy and polite"</i><br />
Katie is a ball of joy. On a rare occasion she can be quiet, but she's generally chatting it up with friends or razzing me about my Dom-isms. Sometimes she's fiery, and sometimes I get burned by her in a really funny joke, but she generally just speaks to me with no fear of judgement or criticism. Those unique Katie-isms like the cute way she talks or the sharpness of her Missouri "D-aaah-mm" are worthy of being shouted from a ridge mid-run.<br />
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<img height="640" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/1610077_10100939770678941_3244387243641345752_n.jpg?oh=2711b59f2f421bc46cd95d9573ae6c29&oe=57D00362" width="640" /><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"I thought wives had to always be sophisticated and elegant"</i><br />
Katie definitely was exceptionally elegant at the wedding, but she spends most of her time in t-shirts and jeans or running gear. She is my best friend, and that usually means conversations consisting of lame jokes and extra nerdy puns. She's not afraid to heckle and be heckled for days on end even if she isn't conservatively lady-like. Through it all, even if she isn't elegant in the moment.. it's an undeniable truth that she can clean up pretty damn well.<br />
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<a href="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/13319722_10103945414479710_4276177343458096185_n.jpg?oh=7702e1c6de3a5aa420acadc445f7d7ba&oe=57D3A87C" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/13319722_10103945414479710_4276177343458096185_n.jpg?oh=7702e1c6de3a5aa420acadc445f7d7ba&oe=57D3A87C" width="640" /></a><br />
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<i>"I thought a wife would never match my affection and love because I'm a crazy Italian guy."</i><br />
Perhaps the biggest constant about Katie is her unconditional love for me. I get it that sometimes my hairstyles and behavior don't make me the most attractive guy, but she doesn't ever stop letting me know that she loves me. She has quieted an insecurity in me that used to cause me to constantly stoke the fire in a relationship through all
sorts of insane antics. It was a major vice that made me difficult to be around, but she's the first to have fulfilled my daily need for ample love and affection.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<img height="480" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/10615632_10100722084528731_8791337661022349007_n.jpg?oh=23e164e1b20278d36fbc953bd3f5385f&oe=5808FD15" width="640" /><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"I thought wives had to be judgmental and condemning matriarchs"</i><br />
Katie and I do judge right and wrong in the world, but we spend a lot more time in the Buddhist mindset of accepting that other individual's pursuit of happiness (though possibly destructive to others pursuit of happiness) is not an invalid request. We believe everyone should be allowed to find happiness, and we have sympathy for those that do so in ways that hurt us. Having someone like that who is a free-thinker and capable of having very difficult empathy is such an important foundation for me to keep hope in our crazy world. Call her a hippy for it (but also call Kate Martini Freeman or Krista Olsen hippies) but it's genuinely a necessary key to happiness.<br />
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So, if any of that above makes sense to you (whether you're a guy or girl), I can generally state that you've got a shot at happiness in matrimony. Take it from me, a married man of 11 days, partner of Katie of 7 years, the quotations "I thought wives were supposed to..." above are the furthest thoughts from a happy mind.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="640" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/13344767_10100968907089341_5834692926691949727_n.jpg?oh=074706f1c76d27386d79f79a7da09ab7&oe=57D50D4B" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photos by <a href="http://jaymeburtis.photoshelter.com/portfolio">Jayme Burtis</a></td></tr>
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<br />Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-71661943872163296772016-04-07T21:41:00.002-07:002016-04-08T07:59:53.826-07:00Pre-SonomaAfter a few false starts in the past year, I've finally started to believe I'm not just running better because I say I want to run better and get over my OTS (which is necessary), but because I'm actually doing everything it takes to stay healthy and run well, AND I've had enough time and experience between me and 2014.<br />
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The metaphor that I think best sums up OTS is that it's like falling off a cliff, surviving, and then mentally and physically getting back to hanging out on the edge of a cliff (which is oh so mentally and physically difficult). The falling off is straight forward: the endocrine system is shocked and everything is out of whack from sleep to mood to metabolism to adrenaline production to psyche. If you're in a bad mood, you might not train, or if you're optimistic and want to go out and have a good run, it just might not happen for awhile as the adrenal glands give you the silent treatment. I had this happen last year trying to train for Sean O'Brien and Gorge Waterfalls, neither race had any memorably great training runs, and my last run stateside before UTMB was pretty freaking miserable. Then, as far as metabolism goes, you might gain weight or feel very weak during runs, and when you try out diets or test theories, nothing is consistent. I tried to eat very little meat, and felt super weak but also bloated, and then even when I started to eat more meat I felt weak and hungry. Finally, I got to a point of being mostly plant based (some fish, chicken, and eggs here and there), and plenty of greens, grains, and plant based fats. The consistency of a balanced diet is chiefly focused on sustained energy levels, but to get to this point, it took some bouts of trial, error, confusion, and eventually confidence. To sum it up best, OTS makes the body a spoiled brat and that messes with you so it can stay home from school and eat spaghetti O's. At some point you just have to Mom up and figure out what is normal staunchly decrying no soda, no internet before bed, more veggies, less dessert, dishes washed, homework done, pajamas on, and mandatory bed times on school nights. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Being a good boy</td></tr>
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As far as reformulating my training goes, I'm at a place of acceptance, patience, and organization. I accept that more mileage doesn't get me in shape as much as hard workouts, and I am more patient with setbacks that are warning signs of relapses. I think I still can run higher mileage weeks, but I know my body responds better to shorter, harder runs that require as much rest as a longer easier run. Also, there's the necessity of taking cross-training seriously and engaging in AIS stretching daily, which has done a lot for my stride, injury prevention, and overall speed on trail. I even (shameless product plug) started heart rate training with a <a href="http://www.suunto.com/en-US/Products/Sports-Watches/Suunto-Ambit3-Peak/Suunto-Ambit3-Peak-Sapphire-Blue-HR/">Suunto Ambit Peak</a> watch that tells me how much rest I need to be back at 100%. Usually this is a little silly for ultrarunners who (supposedly) require 100+ hours of recovery for a hard 15 mile run, but it's actually really nice because it rewards you with less recovery hours if you run really easy (which you're supposed to be doing anyways!), and it's generally pretty accurate with recovery time necessary to be able to run at your peak HR, performance, and efficiency. When it comes down to it, I have more memorable runs this spring because of using HR and listening to the recovery function and running harder and faster when I was fully recovered, rather than just working out on a hunch of capacity and ability. My last <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/533034923/overview">workout last Friday</a> was at full recovery, and allowed me to crank out some fast miles over rolling terrain without fear of burning out or OTS. This would be the part of the metaphor when I'm back to walking along the edge of cliffs and knowing again what all the warning signs of falling off are (because it's 2016 and I listen to data).<br />
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My goals for Sonoma are simple, run to my capacity and develop a plan for HR based racing at AC based on how long I can hold different zones. I already know I can hold 150-165 for a couple hours, the goal is to figure out if I can do a few more hours, and to evaluate recovery for going into my final block of training for AC. It should be interesting to see what I can do on a largely fair course of singletrack and gradual climbs. Any specifics about racing other runners isn't going to come into my mind until the last 10 miles, so it should be easy, right?<br />
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<br />Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-66720470138124547772016-03-02T13:01:00.002-08:002016-03-02T13:01:16.467-08:00Feb 8-28In a perfect world, I'd never get sick and running would always be fair. Unfortunately a couple of weeks ago, I got the flu and had to take my first sick day in several years. The runs after the flu were absurdly hard on my lungs and body. Luckily, I now appear to be turning the corner with a decent sub 36 Temescal-Green Peak yesterday.<br />
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I think the big lesson from the humbling past few weeks is to appreciate the long and patient process. I actually ran better on my climb up Green Peak due to finding higher and higher gears where I could keep my effort level below extreme but maintain a running stride.<br />
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Being sick actually gave me a better sense of commonality with my community of coworkers and friends that were getting sick. In that sense of the matter, I understood what it was like to be so vulnerable and human while experiencing a painful variant of the flu and the overly dramatic burning feeling in my lungs and legs while trying to learn to run uphill again.<br />
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The humbling feeling made me realize how weird and crazy this sport is, and how crazy it is that so many people do this for fun.<br />
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Watching the election (aka government reality tv) during my flux between civilian and athlete made me understand a little bit better how such contrasting ideas of entitlement are being sold (on both sides, but I undeniably lean liberal). I understand what some people feel entitled to, because the alternatives appear to sound as crazy as running up a mountain. I'm not referring to one party in particular, as all have different demands of government, but I feel like the day to day pandering of votes is not to the crazy individuals that work hard for the sheer enjoyment of working hard.<br />
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I do admit that I am lucky to work where I do, and have the skills to do my job and be compensated enough to have my basic needs met and allow me freedom to work and run for enjoyment, which is such an abstract concept for the most of the electorate. I guess my point is that maybe the gainfully employed, safe, and balanced budget households in this country are actually well off regardless of the car they drive or items they own, as long as they can find happiness in their job. I understand how they might poll with large numbers saying the country is getting worse, but I don't agree because I see such opportunity in the basic gifts of being an American citizen, regardless if I am as well off as my parents were. I find that my path to happiness isn't through a candidate's ever changing words, but through enjoying the gift of opportunity of sport and career (but I get all the complaints!).<br />
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So, thank you flu for coming and teaching me a deeper level of empathy that the endorphins and pine trees blind me to. Although, I'm not too bummed though to be back sweating and feeling the burn... 😌<br />
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<br />Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-50591654641645140452016-02-09T21:40:00.001-08:002016-02-09T21:40:07.438-08:00Feb 1-7I posted the below excerpt from David Foster Wallace's <i>Infinite Jest</i> 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.<br />
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<img height="480" src="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CazYaKHUkAEsTQz.jpg:large" width="640" /><br />
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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.<br />
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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?<br />
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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!<br />
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Monday - Off<br />
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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).<br />
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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!).<br />
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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.<br />
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Friday - Off, did a bit of Wharton Stretching and cleaning<br />
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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!<br />
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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. <br />
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<b><u>51 mi, 9hr, 13,500 feet climbed</u></b><br />
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.<br />
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<br />Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-37874455535004790592016-02-01T12:23:00.000-08:002016-02-01T12:23:20.392-08:001/25-1/31Perhaps 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-73644131081338600712016-01-25T12:35:00.000-08:002016-01-25T12:35:48.001-08:00Jan 18-24Listening to a blurb at the start of This American Life's podcast "<a href="http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/214/family-physics">Family Physics</a>", 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.<br />
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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? <br />
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These aren't the first time I've asked these questions, but I'm glad I have good answers for myself. <br />
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Monday: Rest<br />
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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<br />
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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<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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<b><u>Total: 61.6 mi, 10,866ft, 10:08</u></b>Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-84859316930576436192016-01-19T11:53:00.003-08:002016-01-19T12:17:21.390-08:00Avalon 50 Mile Recap<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">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).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">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. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> 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.
</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img height="640" src="https://scontent-lax3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpf1/v/t1.0-9/12541096_10101075104818272_5227325550226592572_n.jpg?oh=f04c40e60197d1fbe335d53dfa81c985&oe=573E600B" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="480" /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Mile 18, Photo by <a aria-describedby="js_2i" aria-haspopup="true" aria-owns="js_2h" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=15104980" href="https://www.facebook.com/lc2lopez?fref=photo" id="js_2j" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-weight: bold; line-height: 19.32px; text-align: left;">Elsie Noemi Lopez</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">49.1 miles, Photo by Katie DeSplinter</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">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. </span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">3-1-2, photo by: <a aria-describedby="js_2l" aria-haspopup="true" aria-owns="js_2k" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=699729044" href="https://www.facebook.com/don.feinstein?fref=photo" id="js_2m" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-weight: bold; line-height: 19.32px; text-align: left;">Don Feinstein</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">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. </span></span><span style="font-size: 12.8px;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/467862394">Strava of Avalon 50 Mile</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Thanks to..<br />New Balance for a sample pair of the Fresh Foam Gobi (basically <a href="http://www.newbalance.com/pd/fresh-foam-zante/M1980.html?dwvar_M1980_color=Navy_with_Pink%20Glo#color=Navy_with_Pink Glo">a trail zante</a>) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://vfuel.com/">VFuel for gels </a>that went the extra mile when my drop bag was late</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Injinji for a blister free day with the <a href="http://www.injinji.com/run-midweight-crew-waves.html">Run Midweight Crew Waves</a></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Julbo for the simple and functional <a href="https://www.julbo.com/en/16/products/sunglasses/performance/model/cortina_6943.html">Corina Sunglasses</a></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
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Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-65146875531633318792015-12-29T12:34:00.003-08:002016-01-04T21:49:05.407-08:00End of an Off YearOne 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
Salud!<br />
<img height="359" src="https://scontent-sjc2-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xta1/v/t1.0-9/10441010_10100700254536211_4602850763799502983_n.jpg?oh=90e8c301c25a0a27007e0f592abc3d80&oe=571B7D23" width="640" /><br />
<br />Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-38240571022928671672015-09-20T19:47:00.002-07:002015-09-21T10:32:46.901-07:00UTMB 170k<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Pre-Race Build Up </span></u></b><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I would describe my mental approach to and through UTMB as a roller coaster of mind and body:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
In June, a tangible confidence in my abilities to race hard in August, with a certain and highly present joy.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Race</u></b></span><br />
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..<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<b><u><span style="font-size: large;"></span></u></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiexj8aMLA5sueXS7afSKG0cGzqzXMwETEbbV-NRNWEoKxMGMK8c8qjHuCIPgb6dK9iEW9Ez2RbMF3ON08zXbWfcsFf1UkughLwhJUMRL8jb6XQqGSaDfHIGeP6c0vorswRoCujyqCtFdg/s1600/start.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiexj8aMLA5sueXS7afSKG0cGzqzXMwETEbbV-NRNWEoKxMGMK8c8qjHuCIPgb6dK9iEW9Ez2RbMF3ON08zXbWfcsFf1UkughLwhJUMRL8jb6XQqGSaDfHIGeP6c0vorswRoCujyqCtFdg/s640/start.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Go! Photo by Katie DeSplinter</td></tr>
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<b><u><br /></u></b>
<b><u>The Start</u></b><br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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..<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><u>The Night</u></b><br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<b><u><span style="font-size: large;"></span></u></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbfjzygmH3uL_vuO-q24lInfaUKLfA3n9W2TJIUn2-VLuDfvKWOzDbZtShugtM2bh7T__gIqMgSCB66H9W8aZTOo6RlVBnCao7Nl6_AlLrleDyVWj9pv3l9kIe5WCsEAn4m4bbaTyyP60/s1600/courmayeur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbfjzygmH3uL_vuO-q24lInfaUKLfA3n9W2TJIUn2-VLuDfvKWOzDbZtShugtM2bh7T__gIqMgSCB66H9W8aZTOo6RlVBnCao7Nl6_AlLrleDyVWj9pv3l9kIe5WCsEAn4m4bbaTyyP60/s400/courmayeur.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Legs up at Courmayeur to keep the blood fresh in the legs. Photo by KD</td></tr>
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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.<br />
<b><u><span style="font-size: large;"></span></u></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8TVE9bJZvYeNE-wBdnsJHX2mpuOIovb7YZmuYCrjNuO6aDxmJv5VhLk8e0IdSKMJud_g-D8Ar3J7vHTXT-Dr5TSVQWyyX-HZCvT6YT-r1Y-CTVriv3m1_WKm7VPhP5qPLMDbFFppCHvY/s1600/Courmayeur+leaving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8TVE9bJZvYeNE-wBdnsJHX2mpuOIovb7YZmuYCrjNuO6aDxmJv5VhLk8e0IdSKMJud_g-D8Ar3J7vHTXT-Dr5TSVQWyyX-HZCvT6YT-r1Y-CTVriv3m1_WKm7VPhP5qPLMDbFFppCHvY/s400/Courmayeur+leaving.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Leaving Courmayeur, notice the sadness in my eyes. Photo by Gabi Schenkel</td></tr>
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<br />
<u><b>From Courmayeur to Champex-Lax, Miles 45-76</b></u><br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<b><u><span style="font-size: large;"></span></u></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiCiduE_Cflo5XT1AvdTGwzLGzbpttcu951HnSvbCQtOWZH7UnAhtt73-PABconTMHXQNfBvMtSflri57tDUUXKBhxQGtH0nT-F_CL7CrHlH67wPFHTJ0G3Nk8BVCmxgBAoKqaUybAqgw/s1600/gran+col+fernando.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiCiduE_Cflo5XT1AvdTGwzLGzbpttcu951HnSvbCQtOWZH7UnAhtt73-PABconTMHXQNfBvMtSflri57tDUUXKBhxQGtH0nT-F_CL7CrHlH67wPFHTJ0G3Nk8BVCmxgBAoKqaUybAqgw/s640/gran+col+fernando.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Fernando charging up Gran Col Feret, me being stoic</td></tr>
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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).<br />
<b><u><span style="font-size: large;"></span></u></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QuxIqWnX5XnjBzuDsSe2nbazNOYRzNAWr7d8WCgweb-gI6mU8mlttAO7v83s8B7FcUApTGnJ936Jwl5x0fP2ZgBLGONXvXmyECiQkGcq4tKRSQrN-sDE6sL1RRZf3rayC7_0du1Hj80/s1600/gran+col.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QuxIqWnX5XnjBzuDsSe2nbazNOYRzNAWr7d8WCgweb-gI6mU8mlttAO7v83s8B7FcUApTGnJ936Jwl5x0fP2ZgBLGONXvXmyECiQkGcq4tKRSQrN-sDE6sL1RRZf3rayC7_0du1Hj80/s640/gran+col.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">The view Katie missed out on at the top of the Gran Col Feret</td></tr>
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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.<br />
<b><u><span style="font-size: large;"></span></u></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO8QKTzxVUF0ED_lcrjCj5Baru_q_e7mybc8bfIjdQO1-oszpWgVHB60N7emlEPk772R5uVGG7JpnGfDLRW1Dv9VLnEadkdTxdtWZesoiM4AioePbRpa-hzEc_lAE9-i7WRViXNo7aiZs/s1600/La+Fouly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO8QKTzxVUF0ED_lcrjCj5Baru_q_e7mybc8bfIjdQO1-oszpWgVHB60N7emlEPk772R5uVGG7JpnGfDLRW1Dv9VLnEadkdTxdtWZesoiM4AioePbRpa-hzEc_lAE9-i7WRViXNo7aiZs/s640/La+Fouly.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">La Fouly was a great place to drop after the last section, but I had a special package to deliver</td></tr>
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<br />
<b><u>The Last 38 Miles</u></b><br />
<b><u><span style="font-size: large;"></span></u></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiyL9XSJ9cnOacaaEtR6EcyqpORIEb7Pkhga8ArHonenLBof02rj2tcvDRz4HRBeOWxxU-MWN32SNFLAmrvfBJGm8TMoJRmsbfR_2Jm2yHCHY78bFaGMz4Wckde0w8yTLxyvG9ujGTbos/s1600/Champex-Lac.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiyL9XSJ9cnOacaaEtR6EcyqpORIEb7Pkhga8ArHonenLBof02rj2tcvDRz4HRBeOWxxU-MWN32SNFLAmrvfBJGm8TMoJRmsbfR_2Jm2yHCHY78bFaGMz4Wckde0w8yTLxyvG9ujGTbos/s640/Champex-Lac.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Champex-Lac, notice the love growing <span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Photo by Gabi Schenkel</span></td></tr>
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
<b><u><span style="font-size: large;"></span></u></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxeEWmfW3lej4GN6z-bInhjbcivjEQUYlo3rn9k5e-f4EUaZHplSnoA89cYIlvRbCWlKcV_2mjiJ0A-SdjcPUWFAIizCNCNBQuiP66-wbA_NQ2MAgVu0_W0U9SqEhxPpadpXpJiUPCJ-A/s1600/Trient.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxeEWmfW3lej4GN6z-bInhjbcivjEQUYlo3rn9k5e-f4EUaZHplSnoA89cYIlvRbCWlKcV_2mjiJ0A-SdjcPUWFAIizCNCNBQuiP66-wbA_NQ2MAgVu0_W0U9SqEhxPpadpXpJiUPCJ-A/s640/Trient.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Trient is a great place to be before sunset! <span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Photo by Gabi Schenkel</span></td></tr>
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfDMpaqNoMwn7Cc3MJ_kdgpap59DjEA3KN1Ex0txRSHW26IoIt2UmFA3uuewb9gMPPYGxOS4k1pG25-1kv3248Xb6M3lcPQOTg4LRV7dl0OD-uyjnX-ujpj-ljN52IpDmClOO5WesBLM/s1600/vallorcine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfDMpaqNoMwn7Cc3MJ_kdgpap59DjEA3KN1Ex0txRSHW26IoIt2UmFA3uuewb9gMPPYGxOS4k1pG25-1kv3248Xb6M3lcPQOTg4LRV7dl0OD-uyjnX-ujpj-ljN52IpDmClOO5WesBLM/s640/vallorcine.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Leaving Vallorcine, heading up to the shelf in the background <span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Photo by Gabi Schenkel</span></td></tr>
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<b></b>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.<br />
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<b><u>The Final Descent and Finish</u></b><br />
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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.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Just 29 hours after I left and went around Mont Blanc.. I return.</td></tr>
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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!"<br />
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<b>104 miles, 29:39</b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">She said "YES" - Photo by <a href="http://www.trappephoto.com/">Matt Trappe</a></td></tr>
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<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Post Race Thoughts</span></u></b><br />
<br />
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.<br />
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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.Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-11057225964683847912015-09-14T12:43:00.002-07:002015-09-14T13:23:10.015-07:00Europe, Culture, and WildernessI 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. <br />
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<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Travel</span></u></b><br />
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.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUrjm6_xkpWgBWhECYvy4wK5dfOSOXBXUfZxXIDnZLS0yV37jjYZ4xl1ozdm7rgvIqhyphenhyphenp_5paOujWxTSEr_uZeiHFMNuRIp0Gf1Z82SKuZoKpQaOoGo0yMmPUCZuNuwP6FFrzS65HOn7s/s1600/IMG_0140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUrjm6_xkpWgBWhECYvy4wK5dfOSOXBXUfZxXIDnZLS0yV37jjYZ4xl1ozdm7rgvIqhyphenhyphenp_5paOujWxTSEr_uZeiHFMNuRIp0Gf1Z82SKuZoKpQaOoGo0yMmPUCZuNuwP6FFrzS65HOn7s/s640/IMG_0140.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A380, rich people on top, everyone else on the bottom</td></tr>
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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.<br />
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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*.<br />
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*We were operating at 25% brain power and didn't speak French.<br />
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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.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Welcome to France</u></b></span><br />
In France, there are a few things you have to be able to do to be happy:<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hi, cows.</td></tr>
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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.<br />
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4) In general, my diet got to be very consistent because this is what refugios offer:<br />
Mornings: coffee, bread, marmalade, and butter<br />
Lunch: bread, cheese, butter, and salami or ham sandwiches<br />
Dinner: bread and butter with some meat and veggies<br />
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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).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ski lifts! Everywhere!</td></tr>
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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.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHrUpzjCcbvvzE2tsvZuMVes_OiIQmZLCdfUB0XnCAbMf-kUneDdO9Qn_EdVlhkpznEux3R0do1tBwzVmEr3Q2E99_7Z_FlnCaCPl3rt7BUQqXTI1dvN64GuLBM6uBojub65n_rJP3sGg/s1600/IMG_0326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHrUpzjCcbvvzE2tsvZuMVes_OiIQmZLCdfUB0XnCAbMf-kUneDdO9Qn_EdVlhkpznEux3R0do1tBwzVmEr3Q2E99_7Z_FlnCaCPl3rt7BUQqXTI1dvN64GuLBM6uBojub65n_rJP3sGg/s640/IMG_0326.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Refugio Bertone perched above Courmayeur was finishing another remodel (it might be Hotel Bertone when we return)</td></tr>
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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<br />Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-69234578539854014282015-08-12T12:20:00.000-07:002015-08-12T12:20:16.602-07:00Aug 3-9The 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.<br />
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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"..<br />
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Monday - 4 mi running up Acorn in the evening, no pain!<br />
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Tuesday - 10 mi - tempo of 5 mi on Mullhullound, not easy after the long weekend, but good to clear out the carbon.<br />
<br />
Wednesday - Easy 5mi at sunset at Will Rodgers<br />
<br />
Thursday - Easy 3 mi - Soleus was speaking to me<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Sunday - 6 mi - Mellow, just getting some fun miles above Wrightwood.<br />
<br />
<li style="border-left-style: none; color: #333333; display: inline-block; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.25em; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 10px;"><strong style="color: black;">61.3<abbr class="unit" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: 400;" title="miles">mi</abbr></strong></li>
<strong style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.25em; line-height: 18px;">13<abbr class="unit" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: 400;" title="hour">h</abbr> 28<abbr class="unit" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: 400;" title="minute">m </abbr></strong><strong style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1.25em; line-height: 18px;">18,192<abbr class="unit" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: 400;" title="feet">ft</abbr></strong><br />
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.Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-63694993121378737212015-08-04T12:49:00.003-07:002015-08-04T12:49:30.864-07:00July 27 - Aug 2Though 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.<br />
<br />
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<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXDqvk-J6cz1GxD1asz1oGgPsAb4ONVG8aZ8_xzN5adczWf9I8tVRFhHyIT6EucUNUKJd7DTeKZK-9CDo3b2gF52JOn8P6vo56uR22qYYQNXy05xudH5g4R7P5iQX3Ezk7-9mgVJObd-g/s1600/acblog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXDqvk-J6cz1GxD1asz1oGgPsAb4ONVG8aZ8_xzN5adczWf9I8tVRFhHyIT6EucUNUKJd7DTeKZK-9CDo3b2gF52JOn8P6vo56uR22qYYQNXy05xudH5g4R7P5iQX3Ezk7-9mgVJObd-g/s640/acblog.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 99.9</td></tr>
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<br />Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-63796831246680156692015-07-27T13:05:00.004-07:002015-07-27T13:05:44.486-07:00July 20-26Tues: 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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Thurs: Easy Westridge with Peter.<br />
<br />
Fri: Travel to SLC<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 1 with Jenn Shelton, Photo by Zac Marion</td></tr>
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<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing Baldy Peak from the bowl to the right, Photo by Brad Harris</td></tr>
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<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
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.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
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. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
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. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
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. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
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.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "Final" Descent</td></tr>
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<div>
<b>32.6 miles, 11,800ft, 7:36 </b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Weekly total:</div>
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<br /></div>
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<ul id="totals" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; list-style: none; margin: 0px 0px 30px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">
<li style="border-left-style: none; display: inline-block; font-size: 1.25em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 10px;"><strong style="color: black;">58.1<abbr class="unit" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: 400;" title="miles">mi</abbr></strong></li>
<li style="border-left-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; display: inline-block; font-size: 1.25em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 10px;"><strong style="color: black;">11<abbr class="unit" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: 400;" title="hour">h</abbr> 27<abbr class="unit" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: 400;" title="minute">m</abbr></strong></li>
<li style="border-left-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; display: inline-block; font-size: 1.25em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 10px;"><strong style="color: black;">16,627<abbr class="unit" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: 400;" title="feet">ft</abbr></strong></li>
</ul>
</div>
Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-14594843512955572172015-07-20T21:30:00.001-07:002015-07-20T21:30:17.363-07:00July 13-19It'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. <br />
<br />
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).<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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).<br />
<br />
Thurs: Convo pace up Temescal, enjoyed some apparent progress on the sandstone with the Coyote run<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnTvmEp4rKhv_pKYaLdrvTSXZmQHTSfDXeQBqXLHy5e1UzjVKzOaqNDb70QIFZ8DY6LvctiQJlaOcLjOTfmvp926hKhZ8MdE6ZWBJ-SjL2zAGSpxya8GVBdv4epPhxsJeY8nyZKmbwJf8/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnTvmEp4rKhv_pKYaLdrvTSXZmQHTSfDXeQBqXLHy5e1UzjVKzOaqNDb70QIFZ8DY6LvctiQJlaOcLjOTfmvp926hKhZ8MdE6ZWBJ-SjL2zAGSpxya8GVBdv4epPhxsJeY8nyZKmbwJf8/s400/blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One weekend in the San Gabes..</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<ul id="totals" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; list-style: none; margin: 0px 0px 30px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">
<li style="border-left-style: none; color: #333333; display: inline-block; font-size: 1.25em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 10px;"><strong style="color: black;">41.7<abbr class="unit" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: 400;" title="miles">mi</abbr></strong></li>
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"> </span></span>
<li style="border-left-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; color: #333333; display: inline-block; font-size: 1.25em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 10px;"><strong style="color: black;">7<abbr class="unit" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: 400;" title="hour">h</abbr> 14<abbr class="unit" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: 400;" title="minute">m</abbr></strong></li>
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"> </span></span>
<li style="border-left-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; color: #333333; display: inline-block; font-size: 1.25em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 10px;"><strong style="color: black;">9,686<abbr class="unit" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: 400;" title="feet">ft</abbr></strong></li>
<li style="border-left-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; color: #333333; display: inline-block; font-size: 1.25em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 10px;"></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 15px;">Not a great number for July, but plenty of good signs for things to come in August.</span></li>
</ul>
Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-47103479295478991992015-07-13T13:26:00.001-07:002015-07-13T13:26:31.483-07:00July 6-12After 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.<br />
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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).<br />
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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.Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-23356953929151965292015-07-07T13:01:00.000-07:002015-07-07T13:01:28.798-07:00June 22 - July 25I 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:<div>
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<b><u>June 22-28</u></b></div>
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Monday - Off, not feeling too bad, but definitely worthy of a rest after the high-quality 104 mile week</div>
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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</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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. </div>
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<img src="https://scontent-lax1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpf1/v/t1.0-9/11665450_10100847167396661_669741448670629431_n.jpg?oh=7df12197656ad3e200d54dccfcc41f11&oe=565A4E6A" /></div>
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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. </div>
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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".</div>
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Sunday - Recovery drive back to LA</div>
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<b>58 miles, 13:30, 11,000ft+</b> - Not a bad recovery week, banked some sleep before Western, and got some major inspiration from the trip (as always).</div>
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<u><b>June 29-July 5</b></u></div>
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Monday - Slept in and rested</div>
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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..</div>
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Wednesday - 8mi - Easy run in Sullivan Canyon, just what I needed to get ready for the long weekend.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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<img src="https://scontent-lax1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xap1/v/t1.0-9/10418479_10100848588743271_1065106260538992440_n.jpg?oh=444a6557ef241b166f7d91a5f4910319&oe=5628F069" /></div>
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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.</div>
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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. </div>
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<b><u>88mi/22,000ft/19:00</u></b> - 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.</div>
Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-23289810728820778562015-06-22T12:27:00.000-07:002015-06-22T12:27:25.063-07:00June 15-21I suppose I should admit that I'm becoming a grumpy old man because the word that permeated my skull this week was "responsibility". I think there were a few punk rock songs back in the day that shunned the word and made it seem cool to live un-responsibly, but I was too young to grasp the futility of doing anything in life without some small amount of responsibility. It was a catch-22 of, "I'm going to buy this CD about how lame responsibility is by mowing lawns," and I would either not buy the CD because I wasn't responsible enough to follow through with the chore, or I would do it and buy the CD at which point I shouldn't be listening to the CD. The point being, you can't pick up on gimmicks of an easy life and have it all (unless you made your money off lotteries/trust funds/gambling addictions/reality tv/etc).<br />
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I think what I've enjoyed in the past week, is the sense of accomplishment coming back around to training well after a slow buildup of mileage through the spring. I've thought long and hard about what type of runner I want to be and all the mistakes I've made along the way, and the overwhelming apparent truth is that I just have to be responsible and take care of myself. If I start to strain a muscle or I am packing for a run, I have to actually take the time to think about the action and consider what else I've learned in my 28 years that might keep me moving towards my goal, rather than hopefully chaotically spinning hopefully towards it.<br />
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One big thing was been writing myself a schedule for a month at a time, and following it and thinking through workouts and rest periods on a monthly time frame. There's some adjustment here and there, but there's more re-enforcement that I'm continually engaging in practices that are responsible uses of my time. I might see some Strava CR or beautiful trail in bloom and think I should just go out tomorrow and run it hard, but I also have this sense of responsibility in creating a structure of training for my body to develop and perform at a higher level than just my day by day random training.<br />
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For me and all that has transpired thus far in my life, I feel a bit stronger as a runner by stating a goal and doing the empirically proven things for myself rather than being irresponsibly cool. Although it's probably a sign I'm getting old, I'm not going to get a dad-bod.<br />
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Monday: Tiny shakeout on the Scenic Mound<br />
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Tuesday: 5x10 min, 2 that went well, and 3 that seemed to irritate my ankle a little bit. Went to the Doctor to inspect for a Yucca barb in my ankle, but it turned out it was just a deep wound, and the scab was irritating the top/front part of my ankle. The tendon healed quickly once I learned this.. So I did a recovery run at night with Katie.<br />
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Wednesday: Easy 10 with Katie from Will Rodgers, keeping it low key all the way.<br />
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Thursday: 7x6min was pretty tough because running with the coyote run made me want to chase down runners I was running circles around. I probably wore myself out good for the weekend, but this would be the time to start pushing my comfort zone in my training cycle.<br />
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Friday: Last 25 of AC took awhile in the dark and overgrown trail with Katie. I also realized I hate having too much grip on rocky terrain when I'm sleepy, but lugs can always be chopped down. In general, it was good for Katie and I to have some healthy respect for the course we're be attempting to get Katie a sub-24 hour finish on. When I've ran fast 4:25-ish runs over the last 25, it's made me underestimate it too much.<br />
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Saturday: Got to bed at 2:45AM, and woke up at 8:00AM slowly packing for the run to Islip. Once we got underway, it was 10AM and above 80 degrees at 8,000 feet. It was eye opening how much water we went through and how exhausting it was to run uphill. We hiked a lot, and it was a rough first 25 of AC.<br />
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Sunday: Slept in and had brunch before we got going around noon (again, another hot day). We got stopped talking to a neighbor for a good 30 minutes (super cool old firefighter who has lived in Wrightwood for 39 years). We eventually got onto the mind-blowing 6x10min intervals up the Blue Ridge Trail/PCT, which was tough in the heat, but much more productive than the alternative of just jogging around easy for an hour. I was proud of Katie and I for finishing off the training block properly.<br />
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<b><u>104 Miles, 20;45, 22,000ft</u></b><br />
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Hard earned miles in a busy week. The reality of this training style being sustainable and progressive is coming through. Next week is a step back week, but I will be doing quite a few miles Saturday night with the one and only Chivo Loco (Jorge Pacheco) at Western.<br />
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<br />Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-81235847581926222192015-06-15T13:04:00.000-07:002015-06-15T13:05:19.370-07:00June 8 - 14Injuries are a tough pill to swallow, especially since a lot of them are ultimately self-induced (albeit by accident). It's a complex emotion to know your poor judgement was the cause of your ailment, but sometimes acknowledging that your nature is wild and free is a small (minuscule) silver lining.<br />
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Friday night Katie and I went for a shakeout run up Strawberry Peak, which in itself is very scenic and idyllic. The trail from Red Box gradually winds around through two saddles before a single track follows the ridgeline to the peak. Once at the peak, we were treated to beautiful views of the heart of the San Gabriels. Perhaps it was the new proto's on my feet that felt awesome or maybe the freeing feeling of running on a Friday afternoon, but I elected that we inspect the western ridge of the peak, which lead to the north-western chute that was hazardous in almost every sense of the word. After four hours of crumbly rock climbing, getting lost, traversing poison oak, yuccas, and terricula, we emerged hobbling to our car in pitch black darkness.<br />
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We're generally responsible adults that pay our taxes, have health insurance, and work hard at our jobs, but on that night I was motivated by know-it-all-ism and proceeded to tear apart our bodies leaving us mostly worthless by Saturday morning. I was so mad with myself that I went crazy for a couple minutes in the middle of a patch of poison oak and added urushiol to the yucca barbs in my leg. We were lucky to salvage a workout on Sunday, but my ankle was not too happy on the downhill, so I'm headed to the Dr. tomorrow to see what can be done about the barbs.<br />
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Monday:<br />
Easy 2 miles, just shaking it out<br />
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Tuesday:<br />
4x10min - I tried to run the Sullivan Ridge singletrack and found it exceptionally tough to run well. I know this is part of my development for UTMB, but running up a 30% grade on and off puts the hurt on me. It only lasted two intervals before I ran out of that wild terrain and started cranking it on the fire road. It was nice to finish up on Westridge where it was surprisingly easy to cruise downhill at 5min pace.<br />
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Wednesday:<br />
Off, bad scheduling and extra sleep made me run out of time to run.<br />
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Thursday:<br />
5x8 min on Los Leones - The legs didn't seem to appreciate the extra day off, as I found it hard to crank out too much speed on the groomed fireroad. Using the Wahoo HR monitor during the workout was interesting, I never expected it to be so hard to keep HR up above 155, but it seemed to want to dip below that if I didn't focus and hold my intensity and form. I think I've probably done too many years of Long Slow Distance.<br />
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Friday:<br />
Said adventure/bad decision run on Strawberry Peak<br />
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Saturday:<br />
Licking wounds and yard work.<br />
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Sunday:<br />
5 1/3 x 10min - Uphill seemed okay on the warm-up, and downhill seemed not too painful to keep me off the mountain. Again, the lack of a significant recovery run made my body feel flat. My lungs worked overtime to keep a running stride on the intervals, which felt satisfying (even if the pace was slow).<br />
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54mi, 11 hours, 12,900ft +<br />
I'm not especially happy with the week, but it's just the way it goes sometimes. I'm not a professional athlete, or even a professional person, but I take what I can get to in the training I can get. I'm glad I did all my workouts, but I'm hoping this minor setback lets me run hard in July.<br />
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<br />Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-68240502252753434322015-06-08T12:50:00.001-07:002015-06-08T15:28:18.136-07:00June 1-7<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Perhaps this is a boring idea to most, but it's exciting to me: my steady mileage increase feels really good. I've been patiently hanging out below 100 miles a week, and I've been rewarded with the feeling of responsiveness in my legs when I pick up the pace, and I have no nagging injuries headed into July. I'm on a date with maturity and it looks disgustingly cute when we're holding hands and I'm wearing a cardigan sweater, but I don't care when the other guys make fun of me because I get awesome rushes when I do workouts. Even more, I can see other guys in bad relationships with training that leaves them used and abused, and I don't get jealous.<br />
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I think a requirement for all ultrarunners to come of age in the digital age is to be able to look at another runner's Strava or social media post, and not feel the need to try to challenge or complain about their setup making it easier to out-train the field. The only way that posts about 5 hour runs or blazing CRs can be detrimental is if you don't believe in your training, and you feel like you're a step behind or you're not good enough. It's all self-detrimental bullshit to want to train more like another high mileage runner, because race results of lower mileage runners like Hal Koerner or Dave Mackey speak volumes of their maturity to wear cardigans and turn down offers for all nighters with loose legs. The only problem is that Hal and Dave aren't on Strava, they're just on ultrasignup with dozen's of podiums and wins.<br />
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Monday: Rest<br />
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Tuesday: 4x10 min on the slight uphill in Sullivan Canyon. Guillaume and Ryan made it a bit more interesting as I ran well the first two in the bottom of the canyon, but suffered a bit on the second two intervals climbing out of the canyon. They were courteous enough to not destroy me after my painful weekend on Baldy, but I still felt like I didn't slow down too much as we leaned into the climb.<br />
PM: Easy 3 miles to shake off the lactic acid.<br />
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Wednesday: Easy 9 miles with Katie, in which I defended our weekend plans to forgo sleep between driving back and forth between the San Gabriel and San Diego mountains. I advocated that it was better to be tired once or twice a week to keep the body aware of an impending sleepless night in August, and Katie did not.<br />
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Thursday: 6x6 min super early in the morning on Sullivan Ridge. Intervals are fun and all, but doing them with the sun coming up makes it extra invigorating. I called an audible and did a steep and short singletrack climb in the middle of the 5th interval that felt amazing. The run off the backside of it exposed a bit of quad pain from Tuesday, but it felt appropriately hard for training less miles and more quality.<br />
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Friday: Went up Mt. Wilson (13mi) at sunset with my z-poles. The whole idea of poles is tough because it's an admittance of shifting gears and mindset from racing to touring. I suppose the Ultra Tour du Mont Blanc is an obvious ideal application for poles, so I'll have to get used to them, but it's awkward because nothing in LA is steep and smooth like UTMB (maybe some parts of Acorn). I didn't have much room or soft terrain to plant the sticks on up the Mt. Wilson trail, but I did get to see a beautiful sunset.<br />
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Saturday: Dropped Katie off at Chantry and drove to Loma Alta to do Steep and Cheap with the poles and into Idlehour to run the last 11+ with her for 19miles. Poles felt less awkward today, clouds at 3,500ft were beautiful as ever.<br />
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Sunday: Did 5x10 from near the top of Acorn over to Inspiration. It felt awesome after using the poles and pack for the past few days to hit some good splits in the most idyllic single track in the San Gabes for fast running. Definitely a good check in the box as far as form, cardio, and health are concerned. I haven't ran those miles that fast with that little pain in a long time. 13 miles.<br />
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<b>Weekly Total: 84mi, 16 hours, 18,200ft. </b><br />
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-A good week of running that felt indulgent without feeling abusive.Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-8080057959025235012015-06-01T12:35:00.005-07:002015-06-01T12:40:45.336-07:00May 25-31One of the most important things I've learned from ultrarunning is sustainability. The sport is far from a sport of tough guys slamming their muscles against the dirt (at least for me). Though there are a lot of people out there that come into the sport for 1-5 years and grind out finishes until they get nothing more out of the sport, there also are calculated, smart, talented, and sustainable runners that avoid unnecessary knuckle dragging. I've definitely made a change in the past couple years from the former to the later.<br />
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A perfect example was last weekend when I ran a PR through Cooper Canyon at conversational pace on tired legs. I ran well fueled, paid attention to my breathing, relaxed to a hike when necessary, and felt much less pain than I did on my previous PR. I could have started the segment with an aggressive push down highway 2, short of breathing all the way to the creek, and then struggled up the first climb, unable to pick my feet on the flat sections, finishing with a crawl to the top at Cloudburst. However natural that might have felt, it would've been unsustainable for the day, and I would've spent the next 18 miles cramping, tired, and heavy. Either way, I would finish, but each scenario would've been drastically different for a long term outlook.<br />
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What matters in the sport, is the sustainable pace on race day and in everyday training. I started doing 10 minute intervals this week and found them to be a great vehicle for teaching pacing (besides the obvious getting your body in great shape). Running fast for 10 minutes is hard: it's a long time, it's hard to gauge how much longer you can push hard, and it's a faster pace than a simple 30-45 minute time trial. Even harder, running 3-6 times 10 minutes requires the duality of focusing on the task at hand during the interval and learning where your edge is as far as ruining the workout and finishing it poorly. A time trial is easy and singular in focus: go hard until you reach the top and deal with consequences tomorrow, but long intervals require sustainability to avoid the embarrassment of slowing down a ton on the last reps.<br />
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100 mile races aren't just won by the most gifted individuals, and now not even 50 mile races are won by youth alone. The sport demands sustainability in moments like the last 10% of a race when the calculated runner reels in leaders in dramatic fashion. It's not something that always happens in a contrasting fashion, but it is something that appears in heart rate data and segment data when a runner appears "to endure" but is really just pacing themselves better and sustaining a consistent pace with less pain. In the long run, the runners that practice this sustainability best, win more races, enjoy more miles, and become the best at riding their edge with less risk of blowup.<br />
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So, with that I'm glad to say that I feel like my training is sustainable right now. I don't feel the need for a rest week of minimal miles, I don't fear the race schedule, and I don't worry about how my fitness is progressing. This is uncharted territory for June.<br />
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Monday: 3 miles over the course of a photo shoot on Mt. Williamson<br />
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Tuesday: Easy 3 miles on Edison Road<br />
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Tuesday PM: Busy day left just a little time in the evening to do the first workout of the tempo phase. Ran 3x1mi just to get the rust off the legs from the weekend and feel out my edge.<br />
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Wednesday: Converstional pace up Temescal with PMR, enjoyable morning<br />
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Thursday PM: slept in an went for an evening tempo workout. 3x10 min up Sullivan ridge was successful, not too easy but no epic blow outs.<br />
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Friday PM: Ran up Mt. Wilson Toll road at sunset and met Katie at Eaton Saddle. No headlamp, no rush, just enjoyed the idyllic night over the city. Dreamed about hitting Sam Merrill at sunset... Someday.<br />
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Saturday: Went out with the intent of hiking strong on my long run, but forgot my poles. Everything went fine out to Baldy, but rolled the ankle on Devil's backbone twice. I pushed the 110v3 proto I've been running in to it's very limit (this is why proto's are done before releasing a shoe), and wore out the grip and fit. The next one due in soon should make rolled ankles less likely, but for the time being I had to stumble and hobble down to the Notch and nine and a half miles back over the technical backbone trails, bruising it a few more times in the process. 19.5 miles and 9,000 ft of gain in 5 hours wasn't so fun due to the heat and ankle, but in the end I was happy to be able to look at it as perfect UTMB training (although Baldy backbone trails are probably more technical). <br />
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Sunday: Slept in a bit and got out for another 3x10 min workout on the Blue Ridge trail. The Pine Pollen was visibly flying off the trees in big gusts and made the altitude and incline as challenging as it could be. I threw in another 2 minute rep at the end to see if I had some firepower in the legs, but alas the previous day's effort was legit.<br />
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<b><u>Week Recap: 71 miles, 13:45, 20,700 ft.</u></b><br />
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It felt good to do some longer intervals and get back in the saddle for week 1 of tempo. I am optimistic.<br />
<br />Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663185159032602706.post-78637024311496545022015-05-26T13:18:00.002-07:002015-05-26T13:21:57.456-07:00May 18-25<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Though the 3 day weekend was a good time as ever to up the mileage for the summer training block, I opted to go long on only 2 of the 3 days to take the 3rd day as a rest day (photo shoot) and make sure I was ready for the next block on interval training I had scheduled myself. It seems like my intuition is to delay volume later and later each year so that I don't injure or burn out before my goal race. That said, the two long days on the AC course were good check-ups to see what is working and what needs work.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tour of California, Stage 7 at Mt. Baldy</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hanging out at the cabin, I had a chance to catch up on the Tour of California replays, and developed some notes on cycling races in the mountains. It's really about figuring out the right time to push based on your abilities and the weaknesses of the field, interpreting breakaways as temporary or permanent, and the belief in one's abilities at a particular moment. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />The breakaway rider has to remember that if they put time on a chase pack, most of the time the differential will start to shrink (unless it's a short sprint at the end of the race). Failure will be imminent if the breakaway rider doesn't make a decisive break and stay out of sight of the chasers for as long as possible. Once caught, the chase pack has the confidence to pass and put you away said rider. Essentially, breakaways that get caught rarely pull away again and win races.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Similarly if the shoe is on the other foot and a rider observes a breakaway in process, then it is in their best interest to make it as hard as possible on them to loose visuals. The longer the breakaway rider has to redline, the more likely it is to make their pace setting a mistake. In 2013, this was essentially what I did against Ruperto. By the time we had redlined for 2 miles into Chantry, he was spent and couldn't hold on for the next duel down the toll road.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The bottom line is confidence matched with the the ability to decipher between discomfort and destructive pain is the key to maximize your chances of winning a duel. If you know the true total time you can spend redlining, have an acute awareness of your counterparts, and maintain the confidence that you can hang tough, then you can pick the best time and place to mount a breakaway or counter one. It won't be a surprise this year on Cal Street when a bearded man starts dropping 16 miles in the 5-7 minute range because it is his ideal terrain and the hardest time for a competitor to challenge him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Monday:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Easy and short recovery run with Katie to the north of Shortcut Saddle. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2.3 mi, 600ft, :30</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tuesday:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Temescal conversational with Elan. I unfortunately slid into a rock shin first on Sunday's run over Pine Mountain and I felt it on the downhill starting to flare up. Luckily it wasn't bad enough to keep me from running uphill, but it was irritated on the long-ish downhill. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">10mi, 2000ft, 1:31</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wednesday:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Off to save the shin from any prolonged aggravation. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thursday:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I opted for an easy road run in my Fresh Foam Zante and found the shin to be agreeable enough to be mobile but not enough to be silent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7.2mi, 200ft, :53</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Friday:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Off, decided to give the shin one more day.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cloud Layer hanging at 7,000 feet on Saturday</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Saturday:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There must have been a dozen or more people running the first 30 miles of the AC course. I opted to sleep in a bit and get underway with Peter, Michael, Katie, and Dave with the intent of running section by section at a sustainable pace. Normally I'd like to really test the legs and see what they can handle, but I want to eventually run the race at a sustainable pace all the way to Altadena. I started off with a 1:40 due to a slow crawl up Acorn. I waited a bit and then ran the next segment to Vincent in a casually reassuring 38. Then I waited at Vincent for the rest of the crew for awhile and then finally decided to head up Baden-Powell at an easy pace. Perhaps it was too long of a break in the cold, or maybe I was a little dejected by the initial 1:40, but I ended up hiking the majority of the climb up BP. We stopped at the top and sent a key down to Katie with another runner before continuing on. I didn't feel good on the Dawson climb, and jogged in to Islip with a stop at Little Jimmy, so the time was nothing remotely close to race pace. The bop over to Eagle's Roost was casual as well. I basically found out that I need to keep working on my climbing at altitude to get where I want to be again, but at least I felt like I could run for many more miles all day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">31 miles, 8,400ft, 6:00</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dave and Peter heading off of Baden Powell</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sunday:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dave and I shuttled cars while Katie started an hour early on the 30 miles between Eagle's Roost and Shortcut. We did a similar casual run, but at a bit more efficient pace then the day before. Usually I would talk and direct turns for the first part of the section, and run a bit faster on the last mile or two. My moving times of 1:27, :42, :58, :37, and :66 were easier than expected, and ideally what I would want to run and feel like in a race: controlled, conversation pace, and ready to suddenly move quickly whenever necessary.<br />30 miles, 4,900ft, 4:56 </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Total: 80.9mi, 16,300ft, 13:55</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Overall, a restful and productive week while maintaining a basic level of volume. The legs felt OK on Monday, and I capitalized on the rest to feel light and free this morning (Tuesday). This upcoming week is going to be long intervals that should knock me out cold initially, but hopefully lead to better times in late June and July on AC training runs. UTMB is still the goal, but I will continue to use occasionally use AC point to point runs a check up runs to measure my fitness, since it's been the ruler for the past few years.</span></div>
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Dominic Grossmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10488705336241557651noreply@blogger.com2