Stretching my legs

A John Deere tractor on the 5 Freeway

2011-04-23T09:15:00.000-07:00

Highlights and observations from my run at the Boston Marathon on Monday.

Many of you know I had a very disappointing race in Boston back in 07. This was my first attempt at Boston since.

Then (2007) / Now (2011) Comparisons:

• Then 3:14:56; now 3:15:14

• Then half splits in 1:34:32/1:40:24 (5:52 pos split); now 1:37:23/1:37:51 (0:28 pos split)

• Then nor’easter, rainy, headwinds, 40s; now perfect day, strong tailwind (17mph WSW), 45* at start, 54* at finish (as I observed on at a bank on Beacon St)

• Then slowest winning times (M & F) in the previous 22 years (since 1985); now fastest world and American times ever in history

• Then over-trained... built my mileage too much too fast and did the wrong kinds of speedwork (few LT’s, few MP’s; too many mile repeats); now waaaay under-trained (due to back injury in Dec)

• Then I averaged 85 mpw from Jan 1 to Patriot’s Day; now I averaged only 35 mpw from Jan 1 to Patriot’s Due (due to injury)

• Then I ran PR tune-up races in 35:53 (6 miles), 57:45 (15K), and 1:23:32 (half); now I hadn’t run a race in 4 months

• Then I wore only a watch; now I wear a Garmin 305 to help me with pace and effort (Heart Rate)

• Then I didn’t know how to run in the rain but I had to; now I know how to run and race in the rain but didn’t have to

• Then overdressed in rain pants; now in shorts and singlet (even though I was shivering and cold in Hopkinton while wearing 3 layers pre-race)

• Then was obsessing about a specific time goal (my first sub-3); now was going to do my best but enjoy the run.

• Then other than the Newton Hills (miles 17-21), my last 4 miles (miles 23, 24, 25, 26) were my slowest 4 miles of the entire race; now my last 2 miles (miles 25 & 26) were my fastest 2 miles.

• Then I finished 2,562nd out of 20,348 finishers; now I finished 3,975 out of 23,879 finishers.

• Then I left Boston embarrassed, frustrated, and disappointed; now I left Boston having had the time of my life… even though I ran 18 seconds slower than 4 years ago in Boston, and 18 minutes slower than my PR only 4 months ago at CIM.

• Then I got choked up running under a TV camera at the start line in Hopkinton knowing that Mary Ann and the kids were back in California looking for me on TV and cheering me on; now… well, I still got choked up for the same reason.

Training:
Someone could see my limited training going into Boston and come to some wrong conclusions. Someone might think, wow, he’s got the genes and talent to run fast (if you consider 3:15 fast, which I really don’t) and that genetics are more important than training. Definitely not true... otherwise I would’ve run this time (and faster) when I was in my 20s, not my 40s... and I never once came close.

Or someone might erroneously think, marathons don’t require much training if he can pull off that time on such limited training. Wrong again... the only reason I could run this well (which really wasn’t outstanding) was because I’ve run so much for months and years prior to my injury hiatus. Yes, my Boston training cycle was cut extremely short by injury, but the only reason I could do what I did on Patriot’s Day is because of the miles I’ve run before the injury.

So how bad was my Boston training? Well, I ran a PR at CIM on Dec 5 in 2:57:58. Plan was to use that as a stepping stone towards an even faster run at Boston. But at the end of CIM, I severely hurt my back/hip (x-rays, MRI, chiro, etc.) and went 7.5 weeks without running (except limited attempts without any pain-free success). Just walking from my car to the office was an accomplishment. Wasn’t sure if I’d ever walk pain-free again, yet alone run. And unfortunately, I couldn’t cycle or do the stair-climber or any cross-training so my aerobic fitness (not just my running legs) was departing for the netherworld in the proverbial hand-basket.

As the injury gradually healed by mid-Jan, every mile I tried to run was a grind. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to saying, That’s it. I quit. My running career is over. I also had gained 15 lbs (which makes sense... no longer running 70mpw = ~7,000 calories a week = ~2 lbs body fat a week).

But fortunately, I didn’t quit. I pressed on. Weekly mileage after CIM was: 0, 0, 0, 0, 5, 1, 25, 27, 17 (hurt my back again getting a dish out of the dishwasher!), 40, 40, 50, 57, 65, 66, 66, 55, and 31. My weekly long runs were: 0, 0, 0, 0, 2, 1, 8, 11, 7, 11, 11, 13, 16, 20, 21, 21, 13. In comparison, for the 15 months leading up to CIM, I had averaged 70+ mpw, including 85 mpw in the final 10 weeks.

After waiting for weeks in Dec-Jan for my back to heal, Boston was an absolute no-go. I could barely survive the shortest runs (at slow paces and high HR’s). Even when I ran as far as 16 miles on March 12 (a mere 5 weeks out), it was a tough, tough run that I barely survived. Going 10 miles farther without hurting myself wasn’t even an option.

But then I heard from an old friend of mine. Eric had always been active... ran XC and track in HS... often biked centuries as an adult. I had seen that he had walked some races recently, and I must admit, I wondered why he walked instead of at least jogging or running since he had always been so fit, but I never asked. I was just glad he was staying active.

So I heard from Eric and he mentioned he would be walking the Music City Marathon on April 30, and he told the whole story of all that had been going on. While training for a triathlon 5 years ago, he encountered health problems. Blood tests came back irregular. Long story short, but he’s battling a serious auto-immune syndrome in which his body is fighting against itself and it leaves him lethargic, achey, and sore. But Eric’s not a quitter and that’s why he started walking races (under doctor’s supervision) and now he’s training to do an entire marathon.

When I understood Eric’s whole story, I knew I had to go for it at Boston in honor of him. That Saturday, I went out and ran a make-it or break-it 20-miler that went reasonably well (certainly not great). I figured I could throw together 3 weeks of solid training and then go to Boston with no high expectations and just hope for the best. So I started running 2 LT runs a week (I had to try to ratchet up my lactate threshold) and I got in 3 long runs. Never even topped 70 miles in a single week of training.

So yeah, I missed 7.5 weeks of running... but unlike Kara Goucher (who finished 5th female on Monday), I didn’t have a baby.

Strategy:
• Take the first downhill mile easy and bank effort instead of banking time. Make it a 25.2 mile race.

• Cruise ~7:20/mile pace for the first 16 miles. (Note: 2 weeks prior, my 11-mile marathon-paced run averaged 7:10 pace, but my HR got waaaaay too high... so I knew faster than 7:20 pace was suicidal.)

• Start using some energy on the Newton Hills (from MM 16 to 21) but don’t come close to red-line and expect to slow from 7:26 pace.

• Start putting the pedal down after topping Heartbreak Hill... and throw every log on the fire in the closing two miles.

• And seriously hope the wheels don’t fall off in the last 5 miles due to lack of training.

Garmin Info:

Mile . Split ...Up ... Down .. AvgHR ..MaxHR
--------------------------------------------
01 ... 7:18 ... 26’ .. 133’ ... 149 ... 161
02 ... 7:11 ... 22’ ... 79’ ... 155 ... 158
03 ... 7:20 .... 0’ ... 50’ ... 154 ... 158
04 ... 7:13 .... 0’ ... 62’ ... 154 ... 159
05 ... 7:38 ... 36’ ... 28’ ... 157 ... 163
06 ... 7:22 .... 0’ .... 8’ ... 157 ... 162
07 ... 7:17 .... 0’ ... 16’ ... 158 ... 162
08 ... 7:38 ... 25’ ... 12’ ... 157 ... 163
09 ... 7:27 .... 0’ ... 41’ ... 156 ... 160
10 ... 7:31 ... 30’ .... 4’ ... 154 ... 158
11 ... 7:29 ... 15’ .... 0’ ... 156 ... 162
12 ... 7:17 .... 9’ ... 65’ ... 156 ... 161
13 ... 7:26 ... 26’ ... 17’ ... 157 ... 163
14 ... 7:29 ... 12’ ... 12’ ... 157 ... 162
15 ... 7:39 ... 23’ .... 0’ ... 158 ... 163
16 ... 7:13 ... 12’ .. 131’ ... 158 ... 162
17 ... 7:49 ... 76’ .... 0’ ... 163 ... 166
18 ... 7:46 ... 79’ ... 33’ ... 163 ... 167
19 ... 7:23 ... 15’ ... 51’ ... 162 ... 168
20 ... 7:41 ... 68’ ... 50’ ... 164 ... 170
21 ... 8:03 ... 91’ .... 0’ ... 167 ... 172
22 ... 7:20 .... 0’ ... 86’ ... 171 ... 184 (!!!)
23 ... 7:23 .... 0’ ... 51’ ... 169 ... 173
24 ... 7:10 ... 25’ ... 54’ ... 172 ... 188
25 ... 7:02 .... 0’ ... 52’ ... 176 ... 185
26 ... 6:53 .... 0’ .... 0’ ... 185 ... 191
0.35 . 2:06 .... 0’ .... 0’ ... 191 ... 194 (!!!) (6:07 pace)
--------------------------------------------
Tot 3:15:17 .. 589’ . 1036’ ... 161 ... 194 (7:24 avg pace)

Notes: Garmin isn’t always precise on elevation gain and loss. Officially, Boston has a net elevation drop of 442’, not 448’ as my Garmin indicates. And I have no idea why it shows zero elevation gain or loss in the final 1.35 miles since it’s gently downhill on Commonwealth Ave and Boylston St and slightly uphill on Hereford.

Normally, I like to have my HR ~158-159 in the opening 16 miles of a marathon. I ran a little easier than that in the opening miles on Monday. But I knew being undertrained I would experience more HR drift upward than normal. And I certainly did. But since I didn’t overdo it early, it didn’t ruin my race.

Official Results from the B.A.A.:
Bib #1643
05K ... 22:42 ... 7:19 pace ... 0:22:42 ... 7:19 pace
10K ... 23:08 ... 7:28 pace ... 0:45:50 ... 7:24 pace
15K ... 23:15 ... 7:30 pace ... 1:09:05 ... 7:26 pace
20K ... 23:18 ... 7:31 pace ... 1:32:23 ... 7:27 pace
25K ... 23:20 ... 7:32 pace ... 1:55:43 ... 7:28 pace
30K ... 23:47 ... 7:40 pace ... 2:19:30 ... 7:30 pace
35K ... 23:59 ... 7:44 pace ... 2:43:29 ... 7:32 pace
40K ... 22:36 ... 7:17 pace ... 3:06:05 ... 7:30 pace

Chip Time: 3:15:14 (7:27 pace)
Gun Time: 3:16:06 (52sec diff between chip & gun)

3,975th overall out of 23,879 total finishers (top 16.65%)
3,585th male out of 13,806 men (top 25.97%)
692nd out of 2,303 in M40-44 age-group (top 30.05%)

Fastest Miles:
Mile 26 in 6:53 (34 seconds faster than my avg pace)
Mile 25 in 7:02 (25 seconds faster than my avg pace)
Ran the last 0.35 mile (on my Garmin) at 6:07 pace (!!!)

Slowest Miles:
Mile 21 in 8:03 (36 seconds slower than my avg pace; Heartbreak Hill)
Mile 17 in 7:49 (22 seconds slower than my avg pace; start Newton Hills)
Mile 18 in 7:46 (19 seconds slower than my avg pace; 2nd mile of Newton Hills)

Half Splits: 1:37:23/1:37:51 (28 second positive split)

Last 10K (mile 20 to finish) in 45:57 (7:24/mile pace or 2 sec/mile faster than my avg pace, which included Heartbreak Hill mile in 8:03).

Age-graded calculator = 67.48%.

Highlights and Observations:

Pro Races. On Sunday, I watched the B.A.A. mile races on Boylston St. Both of the elite races (M & F) were decided at the wire. Anna Pierce for the US got pipped at the line, and so did Lukas Verzibicas.

The mile races reminded me that on Monday, no matter how my race went... you gotta lean at the tape... even if I'm finishing behind 3,974 other people (not that I was counting or anything) and over an hour behind the winners... and I did... I leaned at the tape. :-)

Fenway. Sunday afternoon, I finally saw a game at the grand ol’ historic ballpark. Pesky’s Pole. The great Green Monster. The manual scoreboard. Great stuff for baseball fans. Game was good (Red Sox 8, Blue Jays 1)... but even more fun was sharing it with friends... including Lee and Angela Toowey from Texas (friends of my college friend Kevin Anderson). Lee ran a great race and a new PR the next day. Congrats Lee! Loved it in the 8th when the crowd all sang, “Sweet Caroline... bah... bah... bah” (Neil Diamond song)... a Fenway tradition. Classic. Pure classic.

Hopkinton. Pre-race weather was cold (40s) and very, very windy. Everyone was hunkered down in any nook or cranny of a wall or building they could find. I had on 3 layers (upper body) but was still shivering due to my bare legs. I had thought about wearing rain pants, but only an idiot would do that. I peeled down to a singlet at the start of the race and never regretted it.

Pictures galore. I find it amusing how marathoners, especially at Boston, documented everything, and I mean *everything*, on race day. I observed runners photographing things such as their breakfast, or their seat on the ride to Hopkinton, or where they went to the bathroom (seriously). Of course, these pics of bagels, buses, and porta-potties are important so we can all blog about the entire experience when we get home. Of course, no one actually reads these blogs... not even doting mothers who saved all our third-place ribbons from Field Day. And even though these blogs aren’t sustainable by Google ads, the bloggers do provide the world a great service with amazing pics of post-race toenails for late-night insomniacs in cyberspace. Btw, here's my blog: http://jjcate.blogspot.com/

Life in the slow lane. Based on my PR from CIM (2:57), I was seeded in Corral 2 (out 23), but I lined up waaay in the back near Corral 3 due to my current lack of fitness. Since I was running far slower (7:20s) than my Boston-Qualifier time (6:40s) and thus those around me, it felt like all of New England ran past me on Monday morning. Seriously. I felt like a John Deere tractor on the 5 freeway. It made the tailwind all the more severe as everyone went blowing by me.

I’m not exaggerating when I say I don’t think I passed a single person in the first 16 miles of the race... well, except those on the side of the road who had over-hydrated. My OC friend Sam who was in Corral 3 even passed me in the corrals before I got to the starting line. Literally several thousand runners (at least) passed me. It was very humbling to say the least. Seriously, I started among bib #1000s and was finishing among the 6000s and 7000s (as seen in race photos).

But I knew I had to be patient or else I would crash and burn in a painful demise. It’s far more fun to pass people at the end of the race than the beginning. On the Newton Hills (beginning at mile 16), I finally started passing some people who had gone out too hard. I passed more on the backside of Heartbreak Hill, and in the final 2 miles not only was I passing everyone in sight but no one was hanging with me either. Hey, if I couldn’t run a fast overall time, at least I could pace it well and finish strong. And I did and it felt great.

Crowds. Loved, loved, loved the crowds. I’ve never high-5’ed with so many kids in my life. Loved how the school kids would count how many high-5’s they got like it was a competition against their brother or sister. At times, I just ran along the road with my hand out just slapping hand after hand after hand after hand. The crowds were so thick it was like running a parade route. You could hear the Wellesley scream tunnel (the girls from Wellesley College around mile 13) a half mile before you got to it.

At Boston College (around mile 21) starting on the downside of Heartbreak Hill, I nearly ruined my race due to the crowds. I knew all the tough hills were now behind me. And the college students were yelling so loud. I started high-5’ing them and soaring like an airplane. The crowds loved it. Even the squirrels were clapping. Next thing I know I look down and my pace is at 6:06 and my HR at 184 (!!!)... yikes! Had to back off or blow up.

New PR. Even though Monday wasn't a banner day for me, I did set a new PR at Boston. Seriously. A heart-rate PR. Not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Prior to Boston, the highest HR I had ever hit while either racing or training (even long, tough hill repeats) was 191. But on Boylston Street on Monday, I hit 194... and I averaged 191 for the last 0.35 on my Garmin. So much for sports clichés... I can honestly say I gave it 110%... well, at least, 101.57%. Of course at the time, I more worried about becoming a different kind of statistic...

Important thoughts. Non-runners sometimes ask me, So when you’re out there for so long running, What do you think about? Well I thought about that. And I thought about Mary Ann and the kids back home seeing some of the telecast. Of course, I also wondered if they forgot or were watching Sponge Bob instead, but they didn't... or at least they said they didn't... or maybe they'll just read this blog post?... nah...

Every time I crossed a chip timing mat at the 5K points, I also thought about family and friends tracking me online. That was rather intimidating. Everyone in the world knew exactly where I was at that point and how I was doing. Really didn't want to crash and burn in an ugly, humiliating way.

I also thought about my friend Eric. He gave me lots of good inspiration to keep going strong even when there were 10 or 12 miles left to go. Around mile 10, I passed Dick and Rick Hoyt. Absolutely amazing to see them in person in the race. True celebrities and a great inspiration.

But I also thought about other important matters during the race... such as, Why do all New England houses have shutters? We don’t have these here in California. And do these shutters actually work? And if so, do people use them? And when? Or are they merely ornamental? Do home-owners associations require shutters? Are they part of the civil housing codes? I really need to return to Boston to investigate this. I'm sure there are late-night insomniacs in cyberspace awaiting my thoughts on this phenomenon...

Bad eyesight or habitual liars? All along the way, people kept saying, “Looking good!” or even yelling "Looking great." Well, I’ve seen myself in the mirror and know they weren’t talking about me. And I looked around at everyone else and they looked even worse. So I’m not sure if New Englanders suffer from some kind of genetic eye problem or if they’re all practicing to become politicians.

Trying to be friendly. Generally, I discovered that once the gun fired, everyone became rather anti-social. I tried to break the ice sometimes and be friendly, but rarely did the conversation go farther than one or two sentences... even in the opening miles when the pace still seemed relatively easy... but maybe that was because everyone was flying past me and had no time to talk...

Fire truck. Somewhere in the middle of the first half... I dunno... maybe around Natick or Framingham, we crested a small hill and could see probably a half-mile ahead in the distance and wow... there’s a big firetruck with lights on coming up Hwy 135 at us in opposition to the flow of runners. It was like the parting of the Red Sea as hundreds of runners went around and it slowly came up the road. I mentioned to a runner next to me, Wow... heckuva time for a house fire.... But he didn't say anything and ran past me too...

Tailwind. Despite what famous coach Renato Canova says on letsrun, yes there was a strong tailwind. Both the American (Ryan Hall in 2:04:57) and world (Geoffrey Mutai in 2:03:02) best marathon times were smashed at Boston on Monday.

But you don’t feel a tailwind when you’re running with it... unless you turn and run into it... but people were already tripping over my slow carcass as I moved in the correct direction so I didn't attempt this. But evidence of the tailwind was all around if you looked for it. I noticed at one aid station that the cups on the ground were blowing down the street faster than I was running... granted, that doesn't say much about my speed... but still... tailwind.

At another point, I commented to a runner near me, "Gotta love this tailwind." He looked at me like, What? Then I pointed to a runner near us who was carrying a big American flag... and the flag was blowing in *front* of him while he ran (not behind him). I commented, I’ve never seen something like that ever before in my life. He didn't say anything either and ran on past me too...

You absolutely could not custom order better weather than what we had. Tailwind of 17 mph from WSW matched the course precisely. When I was walking through the finishing chute and heard the winning time (2:03:02), I was thinking, Holy freakin’ cow... but I knew why. It was the once-in-a-century perfect storm... literally.

The Finish. The best part of the race for me was the final 5 miles. I think Boston is kind of like a 10-mile race with a 16-mile warm-up. You need to run patiently and conservatively on the opening 16 miles. The true race is the 5 miles through the Newton Hills and then the 5 miles to the finish. And I played my cards well. I was flying in the final miles and logged my fastest miles of the day. And it was a blast to be strong in front of the biggest crowds on Commonwealth Ave, Hereford St, and Boylston St. I really didn’t expect to have that much left in the tank at that point, but I’m glad I did.

Jacob Wirth’s. Our post-race dinner was at Jacob Wirth’s. The place was packed with runners. We had a great time eating and laughing and without noticing spent 3 hours there. I ate with my OC friend Sam (and many others)... and Sam was absolutely ecstatic about his first sub-3 marathon (2:57:53). Of course, I razzed him about the tailwind because his PR is now 5 seconds faster than mine. I’m sure the tailwind was worth at least 6 seconds...

My OC running friend John Loftus (2:47; 11th AG on Monday... awesome as ever!) even arranged for another runner in the restaurant, a young guy who was a musician, to go to the piano and play. In no time, he had the entire place singing "Sweet Caroline... bah... bah... bah... Good times never felt so good... so good... so good... so good!" What a perfect song to cap off a great day. Great times, great memories. Sam caught it on video and posted it on youtube. And for the record, I'm in the yellow shirt at ~0:52... that's *not* me dancing (if you can call it that) at ~1:22. Youtube scares me. :-)

Sorry for such a long blog post. No wonder my mom doesn't read these. I'm just very thankful to be healthy and back out there running pain-free again. It was hard to keep from smiling on Monday. Glad I got to create some new Boston memories. First time I was overtrained, now I was undertrained. Maybe third time is a charm?...

Thanks for reading. Git 'er dun.

Cal International Marathon

2010-12-06T15:11:00.000-08:00

Cal International Marathon
Folsom Lake to the State Capitol in Sacramento
7:00am, Sunday, December 5, 2010

Weather: Partly cloudy/sunny all day
Start: 48°, no wind, no rain
Finish: mid-50s, no wind, no rain

Training:
I had high hopes for a good run at CIM. For 15 months, I had averaged running over 70 miles per week. After doing some 5K training throughout the summer, I had a somewhat short training cycle for this race. I had 10 weeks of solid training at more than 80 miles per week, and then 2 weeks of tapering off the mileage for race day. The 10 weeks went flawlessly according to my plan with my weekly mileage at 82, 82, 85, 80, 83, 80, 86, 89, 82, 82, and then 65 and 28 (sans marathon) for the 2 taper weeks. Saturday was normally my day for my long run and 9x I had runs of 20-24 miles in length. I had good 5-6 mile LT runs ("lactate threshold" runs, about the same pace as a 10-mile race), medium-length MP runs ("marathon paced" runs, about 20sec/mile slower than LT runs), and tune-up races (10K, 10-mile, and a half marathon). Overall, I felt I was peaking just right for an optimum performance at CIM.

Garmin Info
Mile . Split ...Up ... Down .. AvgHR ..MaxHR
--------------------------------------------
01 ... 6:38 .... 0’ ... 54’ ... 150? ... ?
02 ... 6:50 ... 19’ ... 24’ ... 157? ... ?
03 ... 6:41 .... 0’ ... 36’ ... 157 ... 161
04 ... 6:45 .... 0’ ... 53’ ... 157 ... 163
05 ... 6:45 ... 14’ .... 8’ ... 157 ... 163
06 ... 6:46 .... 0’ ... 16’ ... 158 ... 161
07 ... 6:47 ... 39’ ... 40’ ... 157 ... 162
08 ... 6:52 ... 39’ ... 23’ ... 157 ... 162
09 ... 6:53 ... 33’ ... 22’ ... 158 ... 162
10 ... 6:43 .... 0’ ... 15’ ... 156 ... 160
11 ... 6:43 ... 51’ ... 92’ ... 155 ... 161
12 ... 6:54 ... 42’ ... 61’ ... 157 ... 163
13 ... 6:49 ... 16’ ... 31’ ... 156 ... 161
14 ... 6:44 .... 0’ .... 9’ ... 157 ... 161
15 ... 6:54 ... 11’ ... 14’ ... 159 ... 162
16 ... 6:46 ... 27’ ... 29’ ... 160 ... 163
17 ... 6:52 .... 0’ ... 36’ ... 161 ... 164
18 ... 6:51 .... 0’ ... 19’ ... 161 ... 163
19 ... 6:51 ... 16’ ... 16’ ... 162 ... 166
20 ... 6:50 .... 0’ ... 13’ ... 163 ... 166
21 ... 6:48 .... 0’ ... 11’ ... 165 ... 168
22 ... 6:54 .... 0’ .... 3’ ... 166 ... 169
23 ... 6:48 .... 7’ .... 3’ ... 168 ... 170
24 ... 6:48 .... 0’ .... 9’ ... 169 ... 171
25 ... 6:37 .... 0’ .... 6’ ... 172 ... 175
26 ... 6:34 .... 0’ .... 0’ ... 174 ... 179
0.28 . 1:36 .... 0’ .... 0’ ... 178 ... 179 (5:46 pace)
--------------------------------------------
Tot 2:57:58 .. 314’ .. 643’ ... 160.5 . 179 (6:47 avg pace)

Notes: HR monitor wasn’t reading correctly for the opening two miles so the data is conjectured. Also, the official difference between elevation loss and gain is -340’ (366’ start; 26’ finish), even though my Garmin registered -329’.

Official Results from CIM:
Bib #1248
Mile 5.9 in 39:28 (349th place)
Mile 13.1 in 1:28:51 (347th place, moved up 2 spots)
Mile 20.0 in 2:16:09 (322nd place, moved up 25 more spots)
Chip Time: 2:57:58 (246th place, moved up 76 more spots)
Gun Time: 2:58:06
246th overall out of 5,879 total finishers (top 4.2%)
193rd male out of 3,330 men (top 5.8%)
22nd out of 625 in M40-44 age-group (top 3.5%)

CIM is the most competitive marathon in the west (even though it has only a third the number of runners as the L.A. Marathon or the S.D. Rock-n-Roll marathon). CIM is the 5th most competitive marathon in the entire U.S. (only behind Boston, Chicago, New York, and Twin Cities).

PR by 90 seconds. Previous best = 2:59:28 at the Orange Co. Marathon on May 2, 2010 (but afterward I learned the OCM course may have been as much as 2/10ths short so I really wanted to run sub-3 at CIM to make sure I had a legit sub-3.)

Fastest Miles:
Mile 26 in 6:34 (flat terrain; 13 seconds faster than my avg pace)
Mile 25 in 6:37 (flat terrain; 10 seconds faster than my avg pace)

Slowest Mile: Miles 12, 15, and 22 in 6:54 (only 7 seconds slower than my avg pace)

Half Splits: 1:28:51/1:29:07 (16 second positive split)

Last 10K (mile 20 to finish) in 41:49 (6:40/mile pace or 7 sec/mile faster than my avg pace)... which interesting enough, was my goal pace for the entire marathon.

Age-graded calculator = 73.81%, my best marathon yet, but still less than the +75% marks I’ve hit for some shorter races (mile race in Aug at 78.1%; 5K in Sept at 75.6%; 10K in Oct at 76.2%, 10-miler in Oct at 77.4%).

Thoughts:
CIM is one of the absolute finest marathons I’ve ever run. Very well organized. Everything went smoothly… buses, a bajillion port-a-potties, great water stations, very visible mile markers, no snafus at all.

The course was wonderful. It’s a gentle rolling route mostly through open-air yards and fields speckled with trees adorned in fall colors. Very few turns. The hills are neither long nor steep, but any advantage of a slight net downhill is negated by plenty of rollers, more so on the first half of the course. Despite the hills, the course has less elevation drop than Boston and is certified as a course for qualifying for the U.S. Olympic trials (not that I can run within 30 minutes of that standard).

Really enjoyed the entire weekend with running friends. I flew up and back and split a room with a new colleague at CBU who was also running CIM. Great to hang out with him all weekend. Also enjoyed a great pre-race pasta dinner on Saturday with a big group of running friends in town for CIM. They ran some great, great races including some big PR's and some age-group podium finishes.

Afterward I was in a lot of pain... severe lower back pain. Riding the school bus up to the start (30+ minutes), I sat over the “wheel hump” with my knees up near my chest. I could feel my rear end cramping and I would shift and move to try to prevent that but the bus was crowded.

After getting off the bus, I didn't think any more of it... until late in the race. In the closing miles, I started feeling the twinges of glute and lower back pain, something I rarely feel when running. But I’ve strained my lower back enough in the past from lifting heavy objects that I know what this feeling is. But fortunately, my back never seized up... nor did I slow down... my fastest 2 miles were my last 2 miles.

But as soon as I crossed the finish line and started walking, Wow. OUCH! Serious back pain. Serious sharp lower back and glute pain. I could hardly walk (no exaggeration). I had to take baby steps. My legs (quads, calves, hammies) were fine... tired but not cramping. But wow, the back pain was really severe. It was all I could do to hobble through the finishing chutes, see some people, get some food, and then catch a cab back to the hotel. I'm really, really glad it didn't ruin my race. If I had stopped for any minor reason (tie a shoe, get water), it easily could've seized up then and I would've DNF'ed (seriously)... or added 30-40 minutes on my time walking the last mile alone.

My goal throughout my training cycle was 2:55 (6:40 pace). Until the last week before the taper, I realized that probably wouldn’t be attainable since my MP runs were averaging ~6:45. But right before Thanksgiving, I started hitting LT, mile repeat, and MP miles that projected a time faster than 2:55. So my goal was 2:55.

But on Sunday, in the opening few miles on the rolling hills, I could tell that pace would be too fast and I backed off some. I think from my splits, I paced it about as perfectly as possible for my fitness level on that very day... neither too aggressive nor too conservative. In fact, as I look at the splits in the race results, no one passed me in the second half of the course (well, a few did temporarily).

On Friday before I left for Sacramento, as I walked my son to elementary school, this conversation took place:
Me: “You know, in 48 hours I’ll be running my marathon. My goal for this one is 2:55. I think I can do it… it’ll be tough, but I think I can.”
Son: “I don’t think you’ll make it.”
Me (chuckling): “Really? Why not?”
Son: “Well, last time, you ran perfectly and barely got 2:59. I don’t see you progressing that fast. So I think something more like 2:57 or 2:58.”
Me (still chuckling at his analysis): “Oh you think so?”
Son: “Yeah.”
Well, now I wonder if he knows my running capabilities better than I do....

Thanks for reading.

A few pictures:

Pre-race dinner at Paesano's in Sacramento. The legs around that table ran 200+ miles the next day, including two 2:38's, one 2:42, two age-group awards, and five PR's. Seated left going clockwise: John L, Julie, Elisa, Susan, John H, Dan, Charlie, myself, and Laurent.

Over 8,000 runners dart out from the start line near Folsom Lake... 26.2 miles in the distance is downtown Sacramento and the finish line at the state capitol.

The route is a wonderful point-to-point course with light rolling hills from Folsom Lake to the state capitol.

Somewhere on the course.

Somewhere else on the course.

Somewhere else on the course.

Mile 20 is marked creatively by the appearance of a brick wall. Fortunatley, I had trained well, fueled up well, and paced the race well so I never felt "the wall" on Sunday.

Somewhere else on the course.

In mile 21, the course crosses this bridge on the American River, the last bit of uphill with only 5 more miles to go.

Running strong through the finish in a new personal best time.

Another angle of me at the finish.

Talking with my friends, John Hill (2:38) and John Loftus (2:42) who each placed second in their age groups at the finish line at CIM... of course, both of them finished, stood around for a while, went back to their hotels, showered, ate lunch, caught a movie, and then came back to greet me as I finished. And I appreciate them wrapping up in thermal blankets so at least they looked tired when they greeted me....

The creative design for the finisher's medal... a footprint with the shape of the state in it.

5,280' of Pain and Oxygen Debt

2010-08-29T18:30:00.000-07:00

SoCal USATF Road Mile Championships at El Toro Airfield (Irvine, CA)

I have never run an official mile race other than HS or college gym classes. I don’t even remember my precise time. I think I ran ~6:00 in college. Not sure.

This Road Mile Championship is a brand new race for the SoCal area, and one that I hope will remain for years to come. Most any runner likes to know what they can run for just one single mile... no string attached... nothing but racing one single mile. And this was a true race. No one was thinking about just finishing. Everyone was thinking... how fast.

And the old El Toro Airfield was the perfect venue for this race... cool weather (even in August) and one flat, straight runway for takeoff. The USATF had done this event right. The course was measured to precision with time clocks at every quarter. There would be 16 races separated by age and gender... complete with computer chip timing.

Since I’ve been 5K training this summer towards the Santa Monica 5000 in mid-Sept, this race came at a perfect time on the calendar for me. I haven’t done this much high-intensity, short-rep speedwork in years... if ever. But unfortunately, 10 days ago, I bruised my ribs pretty bad and missed 5 days of running (including DNS’ing a 5K last weekend). My ribs are still sore, but not enough now to keep from running and racing today.

I wasn’t sure what kind of time to target for a race this short (especially with bruised ribs). I haven’t run a race shorter than 10K in years. I just knew it would be 5,280’ of pain... and some severe oxygen debt. I just didn’t want to make it any worse by going out too fast in the opening quarter.

My goal was to run sub-5:30... and my A-goal was actually 5:20. I figured I’d attempt splits in 80 and just try to hang on for the 5:20. But I still felt that’d be too fast. Maybe I better shoot for quarters in 82 and go for 5:29.

I warmed up by jogging down the runway to the starting line in the distance with my youngest daughter... one of my favorite parts of the morning... nothing like doing a warm-up mile with my daughter down a runway in the middle of nowhere. :-) As we ran that long straightaway, I thought... “Daggum, a straight mile is one heckuva long distance!” This was nothing like a mile on the track. I could barely spot the finish line from the start line. Sheesh!

After we got to the starting line, she walked on back to momma and her brother and sister while I jogged around waiting for the start of my race. It was really nice knowing I had my own little cheering section back at the finish line. Normally, they don’t go to my races because there’s rarely any race I run near home.

About 8:40am, it was time for me to line up with the Open Masters Men (40+). I wasn’t sure how competitive this race would be since there was also an Elite Masters Men race (QT was sub-5:30) after mine. I should’ve signed up for the Elite race, but I wrongly presumed that an official QT was necessary (which it wasn’t). So I wasn’t sure how competitive it would be in the Open Masters race.

The gun went off, and we took off. I was in about 6th or 7th place and by the quarter I was in 5th place. Coming up on the quarter, I see the clock ticking 1:08... 1:09... 1:10... 1:11... 1:12... 1:13... Ruh roh... a bit too fast! But I was feeling ok. Just keep steady.

I wore my GPS/HR monitor (mostly to analyze the data after the race) and glanced at it only a couple of times in the race... it was showing me running at a speed about ~4:56/mile. Yikes! Backed off the accelerator just a tad to prevent an ugly blow up at the end.

I saw the half and three-quarters splits as I ran by, and I remember doing the math in my head thinking... hang on and get that sub-5:20! In the last quarter, wow... oxygen debt... severe oxygen debt... seriously severe oxygen debt... breathe... breathe... breathe... I gradually moved on up into fourth place and then into the third. (Note: discovered in the results, I actually finished 2nd in my race.) Well... I don’t think it was so much that I sped up but that I just hung on better than two of the guys in front of me.

I could see the finish line approaching fast... run... breathe... run... breathe... hang on... here it comes... hang on... yes... 5:08!!!

Ok... whoa... slow down legs... stop... bend over... breathe... breathe... breathe... holy freakin’ cow... breathe....

Wow, I didn’t expect that at all. Seriously. Did I just do that? Wow. My wife and kids run over and congratulate me. They knew I’d be happy with 5:08... and yes I was.

After I caught my breath, I jogged down the runaway as a cool-down and turned around at halfway to come back and see my friend John Loftus finish with the elites. But I messed up and thought his race was 4 races after mine and it was only 2. As I was jogging back towards the finish, I looked to my side and here comes John. He was kicking towards the finish and I missed my chance to photograph him. Saw him finish in 4:57. That’s huge. Sub-5 and he’s ten years older than me. Huge congrats, John, on the PR. Sorry I didn’t get a pic of you.

Good day. After examing my GPS file, I realize I ran a much more even-paced race than I initially thought:

Quarter split, total time, avg HR, max HR, quarter distance (GPS distance):
0:00, 0:00, 110, 110, 0m (0m)
1:16, 1:16, 148, 174, 402m (413.7m)
1:17, 2:33, 165, 182, 804m (808.2m)
1:18, 3:51, 170, 187, 1206m (1204.9m)
1:17, 5:08, 174, 190, 1608m (1614.0m)

It felt really bizarre and surreal to run a race this short. Now I'm really looking forward to the Santa Monica 5000... and doing this mile race again next year. Thanks for reading.

Drinking the Kool-Aid: My First Ultra-Marathon

2010-06-15T21:00:00.000-07:00

I've wanted to do this for years, but it never fit into my schedule until now... my first attempt pushing the envelope beyond 26 miles, 385 yards... my first ultra-marathon... the Holcomb Valley Trail Race (33 miler).

Where? The mtns above Big Bear, 99% trails and fire roads... ~15 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail.

Elevation? ~3,850' net elev gain and drop... low point (start/finish) at 6,750'... high point (~mile 8) at 8,212'... 6 climbs to high points on the route.

Weather? Ideal... 50s at the start and 60s at the finish... bright sunny day... about 50/50 with shade/exposure on the route.

Why now? Good timing. I finally got that sub-3 marathon burden off my back. Time to try something new... and I love the mountains.

Training? I piggy-backed my training off of my winter and spring marathon training in which I ran 3 marathons in a matter of 12 weeks (somewhat unintentionally) culminating with marathon PR at the OC Marathon on May 2 in 2:59:28. Basically, I recovered for about 8 days and started training hard again. My key workouts for each of the next 3 weeks were:
• 6-mile tempo run at lactate threshold (6:34 pace then 6:23 then 6:21 then 6:24)
• tough longish (15-17 miles) run on big hills (~1000' elevation gain)
• b2b long runs (20/11 then 22/16 then 25/20)

Goals:
Main goal: since I've never run farther than 26.2 miles, I wasn't sure how my body would respond in the final 7 miles. So my main goal was not to overdo it and finish strong without limping across the line in a death march. Goal accomplished. I ran a neg split (2:38/2:35) and my fastest mile was my last mile. (Here's my Garmin file which gives all the data on mile splits, HR, elevation, map, etc.)

I had no idea what to target as a time goal since this race was considerably farther than I had ever run and it involved big climbs and downhills... on trails (which can be tricky with rocks and roots)... and at altitude (all between 6,750' and 8,212'). But these were my "sketchy" goals:
• Time Goal A: sub-5:00 (~9:00/mile pace)? This was so far-fetched I didn't mention it to anyone... but it sure would have been nice. Fwiw, only two runners ran sub-5 this year. Jorge Pacheco (a fast, elite ultra-runner who won Badwater 2008!) won the race and broke his own course record in 4:13. Second place finished 43 minutes behind him (!!!). I was a full 60 minutes behind the winner, but only 17 minutes from second place.
• Time Goal B: sub-5:19 (essentially sub-5hrs for 50K... a very tough goal). Since this race was an odd distance (33 miles), not a standard ultra distance (like 50K, 50 miles, etc.), I thought it'd be cool to hit this mark. Goal accomplished. I looked at my Garmin when it read 16.5 miles (halfway) and I was at 2:38 (on pace for a 5:16 finish). I hoped I wouldn't fade at the end... but I just didn't know... and fortunately I didn't.
• Time Goal C: sub-5:30 (~10:00/mile pace). Based on past results for this race, I figured this would probably get me into the top 10 overall... and it did... 6th overall and 1st in the M40-49 age-group (well, technically, 3rd AG... but the other 2 got overall awards and there was no "double dipping").

Race plan:
• Gels and an Endurolyte capsule (sodium & electrolytes) every 4 miles.
• Carry a handheld bottle and refill it at the 7 aid stations.
• Try to avoid overdoing it too early so that the end doesn't become a cramped-up death march.
• Wasn't sure what heart-rate zone I should target since this involved steep climbs at altitude. Planned to target 148-150 to avoid an ugly crash and burn at the end. A mile into the race, I had already abandoned that plan and targeted 158-160 (essentially my target HR zone for OCM)... and it worked out ok. My avg HR for the entire race ended up being 159... and I finished strong so my adjusted plan worked.

About my race:

The race had a staggered start of four waves started every 2 minutes to avoid too many runners clogging up the trails at once. The waves were seeded so the fastest runners were in the first wave. I was disappointed to be seeded in the fourth and final wave (since I had never run an ultra)... but that actually turned out great. At the end, when I was running near anyone, I knew I had either a 4- or 6-minute lead on them depending on whether they were in the first or second wave. :-)

Opening 3 miles were a steep climb... had to do some power-hiking even within the first mile to avoid spiking my HR too early. I didn't mind if people passed me at that point, I knew I could pass them back by the end... and I did... since I started in the fourth wave, I passed everyone except only the 5 people who finished ahead of me.

In the opening 6-8 miles, I couldn't find a nice steady pace... I was either going too fast and my HR was climbing or too slow and my HR was dropping too low. Finally, I caught up to some other runners about my pace (from an earlier wave) and that helped steady my pace... one of whom I ran with for ~12 miles on the PCT. I asked him if he minded that I followed him since this was my first ultra and was trying not to overdo it. He didn't mind. We talked a little bit. Around mile 21 on some climbs I ended up getting ahead of him. After the finish, he came up and congratulated me on my race and informed me that I won our age-group. I thanked him repeatedly for letting me tail him for all those middle miles and also thanked him for saving my race or else I would have crashed and burned for sure. I really owe my AG award to him.

I also learned the hard way that while trail running, don't follow the runner in front of you too closely... you gotta be able to see the rocks and roots coming up. Around mile 8 or 9, I took quite a tumble (nearly down a steep ravine) when I tripped on a rock. I cut up my right knee pretty good... but it's not a trail race until you fall... :-) And I must say, I saw more runners than not who had taken a spill during the race. Lots of battle scars.

The race went remarkably smoothly for me. I don't have time to tell about all the sights and sounds today. Suffice it to say, ultra-runners are interesting folks. And the route was amazing. Great views of Big Bear Lake from high up and also Holcomb Valley, the High Desert... and even the ghost town of Belleville. In 1860, the town had grown to 10,000 people and came within 2 votes of becoming the county seat of San Bernardino County during the (smaller) southern California gold rush. All that remains is a few old mine shafts, a log cabin, and "Hangman's Tree" where justice was meted out in this rough town.

What's next?
I always like a challenge. Some of my running friends think that since I've succumbed to the dark side of running and have run an ultra, now I'll be signing up for a 50- or 100-miler soon... well, not so fast. Yes, I finally drank the kool-aid and found myself part of the ultra-running cult... but I have no immediate plans to go farther... at least, not yet. 33 miles was plenty for me right now. Since I've (unintentionally) run a marathon (or more) in each of the four local counties this year (Diamond Valley Marathon in Riverside Co.; LAM in Los Angeles Co., OCM in Orange Co.; and now the HV33 in San Bernardino Co.), I'm gonna set aside the longer stuff for a few months and work on the shorter stuff... namely, speedwork for 5K/10K... something that's long overdue. And then I hope to arun the Cal International Marathon in Sacramento in December.

And I'd like to dedicate my first ultra-marathon to my friends Jay and Anita Finkle who are amazing ultra-runners who regularly run 100-milers. All the best to both of you, especially with the new challenge you're facing. You two are a great inspiration!

The Orange County Marathon

2010-05-06T21:00:00.000-07:00

I'm sure I blog way too much about my running, but this marathon was truly special... something I've been trying to do for years... and it all happened very unexpectedly. Here's my story... and it's not just about running... and hopefully it can inspire others to dream big, train hard, and shoot for the stars.

Back in 2006, as I was training towards the Boston Marathon in April 2007, I set off on a "Quest for Sub-3"... striving to run a marathon in under 3 hours (6:52/mile pace). To that point, I had never trained harder in my life for a race... and I ran my fastest times for 10K, 15K, and the half marathon leading up to race day. I flew to Boston with hopes high and came home with them crushed. That was the year of the nor'easter and I never ran a single mile that day at the necessary pace. I was embarrassed, frustrated, and disappointed with my performance... and worst of all suffering some injuries from over-training that kept me from running another marathon for 17 months.

Since then, I've encountered minor running injuries off and on... unable to be consistent enough with my running to make any progress at the marathon. In the meanwhile, I ran some tough, scenic marathons (Big Bear 2x and Leadville) since I wasn't in shape for a PR ("personal record"). Still, it seemed like I should be able to run a sub-3 marathon. In the past four years, I've run 35:53 for 6 miles, 38:40 for 10K, 57:45 for 15K, 64:55 for 10 miles, and five times in 1:25 or faster for a half marathon (twice in 1:23)... all of which pointed to my potential to run a sub-3 marathon... yet I had never gotten within ten minutes of that marathon goal.

After battling plantar fasciitis (inflammation of a tendon in the foot) for much of 2009, my training went well in the fall and I ran a PR 1:23:14 at the Mission Inn Half in Nov. I started targeting the L.A. Marathon for March 2010. I averaged 80+ miles per week (mpw) for 26 straight weeks (including tapering and an injury week)... 6 weeks in a row in Nov-Dec I ran 100+ mpw (including one week of 121). But I crashed and burned horribly at LAM. I wanted to try again soon and at least run a PR this spring and make progress towards sub-3:00 in the fall.

Since starting my "quest for sub-3" back in 2006, I hadn't even improved on my fastest time (3:11:50 at St George 2005... something I wanted to bury in the past since it was a downhill course). Meanwhile, one of my running friends who's my age who had not run sub-3 as of 2006 has since gone on to run sub-3 multiple times, including 2:41 a few weeks ago. Another friend in his 20s, who had not run sub-3 as of 2006, recently ran 2:28. Me? My bests since then have only been 3:14:56 at Boston '07 and 3:16:13 at LAM '10... both of which were huge disappointments for me.

Strategy for OCM?

I only had 6 weeks time between LAM and OCM... and I had never attempted full-effort marathons on such a quick-turnaround. This gave me: 2 weeks recovery from LAM (weekly mileage was 28.5 and 70.0), 2 weeks of solid training (82.0 and 83.5 miles), and 2 weeks of taper (67.6 and 28.0 before the marathon itself on Sunday)... and most importantly, I needed to correct my mistakes from LAM:

(1) Don't go out too fast. I crashed and burned horribly at LAM by going out too fast on the opening hills. But I didn't make that fatal mistake on Sunday, not even on the opening downhills. I kept my HR ~158-159 (about 2 bpm lower than at LAM) on the opening half and felt remarkably fresh at halfway... like I was just starting a half marathon race. My friend Sam Felsenfeld who is about my same speed got about a minute ahead of me after a couple of miles, but I didn't worry about it. I had to run my own race. By mile 10 or 11, I gradually caught up to him... but of course, his legs have run 6 marathons in the last 3 weeks... including 3:03 at Boston just 2 weeks ago... since he's running 60 marathons for his son this year.

(2) Fix the fuel and cramping problems. I've cramped up and bonked really bad in the closing miles of my last four marathons. This time: ate banana bread on the drive over... drank 1.5 quarts of UltraFuel (like uber-Gatorade)... took 5 gels (1 before the start, 4 more at miles 6, 11, 16, 21)... took 3 Endurolyte capsules (sodium, potassium, and magnesium) at start, mile 8, and mile 16. Never bonked. At mile 21, I was thinking and my mantra became, "What wall?" :-) Never cramped a bit. My fastest two miles were my last 2 miles.

(3) Lose some weight and try the old-school carb-deplete/load. I think I weighed 181 when I ran LAM (and even hit 183 at one point in the week or two before LAM). I was so mad at myself after LAM that I dieted while recovering. Lost 5-7 lbs that week. Lost 1-3 lbs for the next several weeks. Six days before OCM while carb-depleting, I weighed 164... 17 lbs of weight loss. My jeans wouldn't stay up without a belt. But it wasn't easy. Carb-depleting was miserable. Ate less that 20g of carbs a day for 7 straight days... that's not much carbs at all. My runs during that time were horrible... slow paces and high HR... but it didn't affect me mentally because I knew it was just glycogen depletion, and it would benefit me on race day.

Why OCM?

It was soon (at least sooner than San Diego Rock-n-Roll marathon in June). It was flat (at least flatter than Palos Verdes Marathon on May 16) and would probably have cool temps since it's next to the ocean. It seemed to be a good weekend... initially. I had to attend graduation at my school on the Saturday before, but no biggie. But that all changed quickly...

Ten days before race day, some of the men at my church decided to take the boys camping that weekend (Fri, Apr 30 to Sun, May 2) so we could all camp, bike, and fish together. Initially, I thought, "Nooooooooooo...." because I needed my rest for my big race. And I knew my son would want to go... and of course, I would want him to go... and me with him. I was so tempted to say, "I'm sorry, son... my race is that weekend... we can't go." But I couldn't. I didn't want to be "that dad"... you know, the dad whose own stuff is more important than his kids. Eleven year-old boys don't understand schedule conflicts. They just think they're not important if you say no to a camping trip. So against my better running judgment, I agreed that we'd go on Friday and Saturday but come home on Saturday night. And my son would also be bringing a friend who otherwise wouldn't be able to go. And I'd have to entrust these two rambuctious boys to the oversight of other dads while I attended graduation on Saturday morning. Things were getting complicated...

So my weekend?

Friday: drive an hour over to Costa Mesa to get my race bib at the expo, eat lunch with my friends Sam and John (both of whom were also running this race), drive home (east) on the friggin' 91 freeway on Friday afternoon (one of the worst in the LA/OC area), get home (later than I was supposed to), throw all the camping gear in the car, drive the 3 of us to Lake Perris, set up camp... and later that night in the dark when I moved my car to allow a friend to back in with his camper, I accidentally ran over two kids' bikes that had been left on the passenger-side of my car where I couldn't see them... major anguish and guilt-trip over that. :-( Went to sleep at 10:30pm.

Saturday: got up at 5:45am, ran 4.0 miles at Lake Perris, cooled off, entrusted the boys to friends, left at 7am, stopped by my house, showered (because I smelled like smoke from the campfire the night before), get dressed in coat & tie, cap & gown, attend graduation, drive back to camp (only had banana bread and iced tea for supper Fri, breakfast Sat, & lunch Sat), took the boys fishing for 2 hours in the hot sun (lathered in sunscreen and drinking tea non-stop), packed up camp, left at 4:30pm, got home at 5:30pm, unpacked, showered, threw all my race stuff in a bucket next to the door, was in bed by 9pm, and slept in my race clothes.

Sunday: never woke up for 7 hours until my alarm at 4am, used bathroom, grabbed race bucket, ate banana bread and drank UltraFuel while driving (also while driving: applying vaseline, pinning bib, putting on socks and shoes), arrived at the OC Fairgrounds (and forgot where I parked... had to walk the parking lot for 30min after the race searching for my car), hopped on the shuttle bus at 5:10am, found Sam, Tim, John, and other friends, lined up, ran. I didn't even know where I was running... hardly had a chance to look at the course map... knew where 3 hills were.

My Race?

Half a mile into the race, I look at my GPS watch at it read 4.5 miles and suddenly realized... dang it... I forgot to reset the daggum thing after Saturday's run while camping. (I normally do that at home on my laptop... but I never got a chance to connect it.) But it's too late. I can't reset it now. I know I ran 4.00 miles on Saturday, but I had no idea what the time was. Suddenly found myself having to "run blind"... other than knowing my HR and mile splits. I realized, I'll just have to run 26 one-mile races today. It's ok. Just get under 3:10. I won't be fast enough to get near sub-3 so it's not like I'm gonna miss it by a few seconds anyway.

The miles start clicking off and I keep running miles under 7:00/pace but yet I'm in control... I'm not straining... not feeling exhausted at all. It felt like a simple, long training-run... not much effort... the miles were clicking away one by one by one so easily... but of course, I'm not used to running on such flat ground.

When I caught up to Sam around mile 10 or 11, I asked his overall time and tried to subtract it from mine to figure out how to interpret my overall time. He told me and I tried doing the math and couldn't figure it out... 34 minutes? 33?... too much blood going to my legs instead of my brain... :-) (Afterward discovered the difference was 33:37.19.) I gradually pulled away from Sam and he cheered me on. But I reminded him that I had a history of crash and burn. He agreed. I replied, "You're not supposed to agree with that." :-)

Around mile 12 or 13, I crossed the first timing mat. I didn't hear a beep like I should have (and I crossed by myself with no one else right with me). I yelled back at the lady overseeing the device (who had pointed me through the timing blocks... which were rather narrow... only about 5-6' apart), "Hey, it didn't beep?!?" but I didn't stop and she had no idea who I was. But it concerned me. I looked down and my D-tag chip (the computerized timing device) on my shoe had come unglued and was flopping open (you can see that on my left in some of the pictures). I stopped and stuck it back together... but it came undone a few seconds later. No time to stop now... it was still stuck under two sets of my shoe laces. But I kept an eye on it all day to make sure I never lost it.

Everything was going smoothly... incredibly so. I geared back on the three small hills to prevent my HR from going too high and then picked the pace back up. At mile 21, I was feeling so good, I was thinking, "What wall?" and started pushing my HR a tad higher. I was reeling people in the whole second half of the race. No one ever passed me after the half-marathoners split off... and I wasn't surprised because I was careful not to overdo it on the first half. But somehow, one guy caught up to me around mile 22 or 23. I could tell by his breathing he was working a whole lot harder than I was. I also knew there was one last hill after we left the Santa Ana bike trail and Fairview Park. I went up that hill at a steady pace (not too fast and not too slow) and hard-breathing guy hung with me.

After that hill, I looked at my watch and calculated that I had exactly 2 miles left. And I just took off and ran like a man possessed. I left that poor guy in my wake. I can't imagine what he was thinking when I surged that late in the race, but I was feeling great... no bonking, no cramping... and I knew it was nothing but flat ground to the finish. I knew I was running a PR... but I had no idea what my overall time might be. 3:02? 3:03? I didn't know. I just wanted to get the best PR possible. My 25th mile... are you ready for this? = 6:26 (Yes, that's correct... 30 seconds faster than my average pace.) I didn't care that my HR had now risen into the 170s.

And I didn't let up. Occasional by-standers were pointing me out and cheering me on because I was clicking and kicking. In the 26th mile, my Garmin watch was showing a pace under 6:00/mile (!!!) and my HR was going higher and higher... but it didn't matter. I felt strong and was about to finish and I was running a marathon PR. I had a smile sand-blasted on my face because I knew it was my day. I couldn't stop smiling. I was pumping my fist as I crossed intersections and came across spectators.

I passed the 3-mile marker for the 5K and knew there was only one-tenth left. I sprinted for all I was worth... one more corner... I turn the corner and see the finishing clock ahead for the first time with less than 50 yards left... 2:59:20!!! I COULD NOT BELIEVE MY EYES!!!

I had no idea until that point... with just a few seconds left... I was going to run sub-3... I was whooping and hollering as I running towards the finish... I had no celebration dance planned because I wasn't expecting this... I just put two fingers up with each hand since there was a big "2" on the clock instead of 3... and crossed in 2:59:33. After crossing the line, I just shouted and yelled for all I was worth! A photographer from the Orange County Register took a bajillion pictures of me because I was so elated. I finally had to tell her to stop and told her my name, age, city, and that I had wanted to do this for years... my first sub-3 marathon. I look over to the side and see John and he was so happy for me. I spent several minutes in the chute just explaining to him through the fence that I couldn't believe what I just did... and that I had run a negative split and my last two miles were so freakin' fast.

I went through the chute, got water, found John (who ran a solid 2:50). A few minutes later, I found Sam (he ran a solid 3:06) and his wife, kids, dad (who ran the half), and step-mom. They were so happy for me. I wanted more than anything to call my wife and kids... but my daughter had lost our extra cell phone and so I had my wife's cell phone and she didn't have one on her.

I was so choked up afterward. I felt like Jim Valvano wandering around on the basketball court... I just wanted to hug someone. I didn't want Sam and John to notice the tears in my eyes so I kept stepping away from them. I wasn't crying because I ran fast. I was crying because I went camping with my son and I just wanted to hug him. I had done it the right way. When I got home, I told him, "You know, if I had run sub-3 today and not gone camping with you... it would've been hollow, shallow, and empty. I would have much rather missed my goal... even by a few seconds... and gone camping with you. I enjoy running, but I love you." Priorities matter.

But then my worst nightmare... I didn't attach my D-tag correctly on my shoe (didn't know that at the time, but now I do)... the chip part was under the laces and it never read all day... OCM had no results for me. And my Garmin file was messed up because it had Saturday's 4-mile run at Lake Perris, OCM, and then I never hit the stop button until long after the race. After analyzing the Garmin file, I evidently ran 2:59:28. I emailed OCM and after four of the longest days of my life, I heard back from them and they authorized and included my results based on my Garmin file and a finishing photo from the OC Register. Whew!

Aftermath

It was rather fortuitous that I was so stoked at the end because that photographer from the Orange County Register shot a great photo of me right after I finished which documents that I ran sub-3. And I even ended up with my picture in the paper (at least the online version).

I know some of my non-running friends were kinda surprised that I was so disappointed after I ran the L.A. Marathon. Sure I finished, but my goals were so much higher that day (and not unreasonable either). It's kinda funny... but 6 weeks ago at LAM I had 7 goals for that race (and only achieved one of them):

(1) Top 100 (ended up needing 2:57 to do so at LAM... at OCM, I was 23rd overall... but granted... OCM had 1500 marathoners while LAM had 25,000... but still I was in the top 2% at OCM)

(2) Sub-3:00 (I ran 3:16 at LAM but 2:59 at OCM)

(3) Sub-7:00/mile pace (My average pace was 7:29 at LAM but 6:51 at OCM)

(4) Qualify for guaranteed NYCM entry with 3:10:00 (missed it at LAM; got it at OCM)

(5) PR (missed it at LAM; got it at OCM)

(6) BQ = qualify for the Boston Marathon (got it at LAM; moved myself several corrals closer to the start at Boston by my time at OCM)

(7) Negative split... running the second half faster than the first (ugly 8-min pos split at LAM; beautiful 1:48 neg split at OCM 1:30:38/1:28:50)

Also, I never stated this, but I thought it'd be really cool to do what my friend Pam did at CIM... run my last mile as my fastest mile. I certainly didn't do that at LAM. My last four miles at LAM were 8:34, 8:19, 8:07, & 8:01... my four slowest miles of that miserable day... and those were all downhill. My last four miles at OCM were 6:47, 6:57 (some uphill), 6:26, and ~5:55.

Sorry for the long report. It's been such a long journey to the land of sub-3:00... and it happened when I least expected it. I wasn't being modest or sand-bagging when I stated my goal for OCM was merely 3:10. At one point to a friend, I even mentioned 3:05 and felt extremely nervous saying that... I remembered all too painfully how my hopes were recently crushed at LAM and didn't expect a lot better on Sunday. But sometimes it's your day... or maybe your weekend. :-)

Thanks for reading.

Running from the Stadium to the Sea

2010-03-25T12:00:00.000-07:00

We live in the internet age so yeah, people already know my time at the Los Angeles Marathon (LAM) on Sunday... 3:16:13... basically half splits of 1:34/1:42... an ugly 8-minute positive split. And yeah, I'm disappointed with my performance, although I feel I gave it my all. But here's the story.

Background and Training

So back in 2003, I ran the L.A. Marathon as my return to marathoning. It was my fifth marathon, but my first in five years. My training for it was pathetic. In the 12 months leading up to it, only 3x did I run farther than 14 miles (17.8 was the longest)... and two of those runs were only 12 and 9 days before the marathon when you're supposed to be tapering... a recipe for disaster... and it was. It was a warm sunny day... and the last 8 miles were pure misery. In long-distance running, you can never do better than your training. My training was abysmal and so my race was painful.

That year, LAM had the novel idea of printing our names in big letters on our race bibs. It was a great idea while I was running decent (well, at least running) in the first half of the race. But in the death march of those last 8 miles as by-standers would yell, "Go Jeff! You can do it, Jeff!"... I just wanted to be anonymous, and for it all to end as soon as possible... which was about the only motivation that kept me moving.

That was then, this is now. Now 9 marathons and 14,000 miles later, I entered the L.A. Marathon again, this time hoping for a PR ("personal record"). After that initial experience in '03, I had pretty much sworn off this race. It was hard running through the throngs of 20,000+ runners in the opening miles. For several miles, you couldn't run full stride because of the thick mass of humanity surrounding you. And it all seemed too much like an "event," even a circus, rather than an actual race. I really prefer to run the smaller marathons in more scenic locales instead of the big-city mega-thons and their logistical hassles.

But for 2010, LAM was sold and received new management. A new course was designed... running from Dodger Stadium, through Hollywood and Beverly Hills, and ending at the beach in Santa Monica. And the race promoters hyped it as a "landmark every mile." So I figured I'd give it another shot.

After battling plantar fasciitis for much of 2009, my training started going well in the fall. I ended up running a PR at the Mission Inn Half in Riverside and that projected that I could potentially (and finally!) run a sub-3:00 marathon... a longtime goal of mine which I've never actually come close to doing. Running that fast doesn't come natural (at least not for me). It takes large amounts of consistent training. For 6 months, I only missed a total of 10 days of running (8 due to a hamstring strain in January, a rest day after a marathon in Feb, and a rest day before LAM itself). It's not easy doing that... but it's the only way to improve at marathoning. Most of those runs began well before sunrise and one as early as 4:15am. Six of my long runs ended up in the rain (which is usually rare in SoCal... except for this winter). Nothing like running 20 miles in a downpour at 5:30am with cars driving by wondering, "What is that idiot doing out there?" Git 'er dun.... :-)

And there's no substitute for mileage in marathon training. So my weekly miles while training for the last 6 months have been: 62, 78, 77, 80, 80, 80, 80, 91, 100, 108, 100, 110, 121, 102, 62, 6 (hamstring strain), 80, 80, 85, 81, 81, 86, 89, 84, 58 (tapering), and 57 (including LAM)... an average of 81.3 miles per week for 26 straight weeks. In that span, I ran 21 runs of at least 20 miles (not counting LAM itself), the last several of which were fast-finish long runs in which I pushed the pace at the end of the run. And my training included other key workouts such as mile repeats, hill sprints, 14-mile MP (marathon-pace effort) runs, and LT runs (lactate-threshold). The only reason I mention this is simply to say I didn't show up on race day and expect to run a decent marathon without the training... I can only run as well as my training... but the cruel thing about marathoning is that even with all the solid training, there's still no guarantee that it will go well on race day... but conversely, it can't go well without the training either.

I give you some of that background to help you understand why I'm disappointed with my run at LAM. I know some of my friends are surprised that I'm disappointed. But I had been targeting this race for 6 months, my training had been solid and consistent, and my shorter races projected me to run at least 3:01 in a full marathon. I really didn't think I'd be quite that fast on Sunday, but I did think that 3:10 was very, very doable... almost shooting too low.

My mile splits from LAM (based on my Garmin 305):
Mile .... Time - AvHR MaxHR
Mile 01 - 6:50 - 155 - 170 (MaxHR is probably a false read)
Mile 02 - 6:38 - 164 - 176 (MaxHR is probably a false read)
Mile 03 - 6:26 - 162 - 169
Mile 04 - 7:20 - 165 - 176 (MaxHR is probably a false read)
Mile 05 - 7:21 - 166 - 171
Mile 06 - 7:11 - 164 - 168
Mile 07 - 7:02 - 162 - 166
Mile 08 - 7:25 - 161 - 164
Mile 09 - 7:13 - 161 - 165
Mile 10 - 7:20 - 161 - 164
Mile 11 - 7:10 - 162 - 168
Mile 12 - 7:10 - 162 - 167
Mile 13 - 7:32 - 162 - 166
Mile 14 - 7:06 - 163 - 168
Mile 15 - 6:57 - 161 - 167
Mile 16 - 7:14 - 164 - 169
Mile 17 - 7:14 - 165 - 169
Mile 18 - 7:34 - 166 - 169
Mile 19 - 7:23 - 165 - 169
Mile 20 - 7:54 - 167 - 169
Mile 21 - 8:10 - 167 - 171
Mile 22 - 7:58 - 166 - 170
Mile 23 - 8:34 - 166 - 168
Mile 24 - 8:19 - 164 - 168
Mile 25 - 8:07 - 163 - 171
Mile 26 - 8:01 - 167 - 173
..26.37 - 2:45 - 169 - 174
Totals = 3:16:13 (chip), 3:16:19 (gun), 7:29 avg pace, avgHR 164, 381st overall, 66.52 PLP

From the elevation profile, you can understand a little better...
(1) why miles 2, 3, and 15 were faster
(2) why miles 4, 5, 8, 13, 18-23 were slower
(3) why I'm very disappointed with miles 24 to the finish.

My Goals: (from toughest to easiest)
(1) Top 100 (would've ended up needing 2:57:34)
(2) Sub-3:00 – only if I ran a perfect race on a perfect day (didn't really expect to do this)
(3) Sub-7:00/mile pace (roughly 3:03:30 finish) – tough goal
(4) Qualify for NYCM guaranteed entry (sub-3:10:00)... seemed very doable based on all my race times (10-mile, 2 halves, and a 10K in past 6 months)
(5) PR – try to beat both my actual fastest (3:11:50 St George 05, severe downhill aided) and what I consider my PR (3:14:56 Boston 07)
(6) Qualify for Boston (sub-3:20:59)
(also) Negative split – run the second half faster than the first... which was possible because the toughest part seemed to be the opening 8 miles and the last 3 are a nice downhill.

I did get #6, the BQ, which used to be a huge, long-time goal for me, so I am grateful for that... but it's really disappointing not to get #5... that's my main goal as a runner for this year... and it seemed very doable. And if I at least got #4, it would be good progress towards goals #3 and #2.

Race Expo and Logistics

I got my first taste of the potential chaos of LAM before I even got to the race expo at Dodger Stadium on Saturday. On my way, going up the 5 and 101, the freeways became a parking lot. Still not sure why... other than, It's LA. Took me 2 hours to go 25 miles. I kept looking at the clock thinking, I'd better get to that stadium soon 'cause I can't run the race the next day without my bib... well, I guess I could, but not with any kind of official time. And I really wanted my bib... I had considered all kinds of possible names or slogans to put on it... "Me"... "Olden Sloe"... ended up settling on "Git er dun"... :-)

The expo itself was a zoo... crazy long lines for everything, and especially to pick up bibs. I only had to wait 45 minutes in line for mine, but afterward the line was multiple times longer... maybe as many as a thousand people waiting to get theirs standing in the sun in the parking lot at the stadium... on the day before you run 26 miles. Lesson learned for the next morning: get to the shuttle buses very early to beat the crowds or else my race could be ruined before it starts.

The expo seemed a little disorganized for such a major event... not just the crazy long lines for bib pickup, but everything else as well. They ran out of the race t-shirts which are free for registered runners. No biggie for me. I've got enough t-shirts... although LAM keeps emailing me now saying I can buy a finisher's t-shirt... how nice of them to offer. But when the expo ran out of sub-4 corral bracelets, that really bothered me. LAM only has two starting corrals (sub-3 and sub-4) to seed the faster runners at the front of the race. Back in November when I registered for this race, I sent in my race time from Big Bear last year and had a confirmed placement in the sub-4 corral. But you had to pick-up the blue sub-4 wrist bracelet at the expo or else you couldn't get into that corral on race day. After 15 more minutes of waiting, they got the bracelets for us.

For race day, LAM allowed no parking at Dodger Stadium (the start) since the race circled the stadium one full time before going out onto the roads. LAM wanted runners to catch pre-race shuttle buses from the finish line in Santa Monica (first bus at 2:30am; last bus at 6:00am). LAM also wanted runners to buy parking ($17) at the public parking structures in Santa Monica in advance for Sunday. Since I had my reservations for the shuttle and parking, I headed on towards Santa Monica where I was going to spend the night.

Traffic was crazy. The drive from Dodger Stadium took me nearly 2 hours (not counting my dinner)... I nearly ran it that fast on Sunday... well, not really, but you know what I mean. I had wanted to drive the race course to see the route and hills for myself in advance, but traffic was so ridiculous that wasn't even possible. I just wanted to find the fastest, easiest way to get to my room for the night so I could rest and relax before the big day.

Santa Monica itself on Saturday night was pure chaos. It's a small little beach city and it was completely overwhelmed by the crowds. Traffic was stand-still bumper to bumper. You could sit through a traffic light 4 or 5 times before getting through it. It could take 15-30 minutes just to circle one block. Parking was nowhere to be found. Even all the hotels had sold out their parking lots. I called my wife ~8pm and said, I can't park anywhere. I might have to drive home (70 miles away) and drive back at like 3:30am... or drive about 20 miles away and just sleep in my car... and I wasn't exaggerating. I was completely at a loss at what to do. I did find parking... finally... and checked in. Got to bed about 9:30pm, but tossed and turned most of the night. Really poor night's sleep.

Race Day

I woke up at 4:15am (before my alarm) knowing I'd better get my tail to the shuttle buses ASAP, even though I had a reservation on the 6:00am bus. I ate a PB & honey sandwich and had two cups of coffee and headed for the buses two blocks away. About 5:00am, I was on the bus heading to the stadium and got there ~5:30am... two hours before the start. I had no idea of the chaos I avoided by my early arrival.

About 5:45am, I entered the sub-4 corral and was only the second person there. So I got to relax and sit on the ground against a pole right near the front of that corral. My earliness paid off. Two hours later when the gun fired, I was only about 10 rows back from the Kenyans and crossed the start line only 6 seconds after the start. I never had to worry about tripping over the crowds in front of me. And I positioned myself strategically on the inside of the circle around the stadium to minimize the distance on that part of the route. And after 1 mile after I had circled the stadium, I looked over and saw the starting line and half the runners in the chute behind me had not even gotten to the start line yet. At LAM, it's absolutely imperative to get in the corrals up front.

So early that morning, I sat in the corral for 90 minutes as it slowly filled up. Most of the time I spent chatting with one of the Legacy Runners (there's 234 runners who have run LAM all 25 years). He was a great guy. Until 2006, he had always run LAM under 3:30. But then he was in a real bad car wreck. He figured his LAM streak was over, but his kids convinced him to do it that year even though he was injured and on crutches! He said he was bloody and sore afterward, and it took him over 6 hours, but he was very glad to have completed it. He's yet to break 5 hours since the wreck, but he hoped to do so on Sunday. I sat there and thought. Wow. Just wow. I hope it went well for him. What an inspiring guy. Made my day just talking to him.

Little did I know about the chaos outside the corrals. Bathrooms in the stadium and porta-potties outside were all overwhelmed by the 25,000 people. LAM was unprepared for the over-hydrated masses that had an immediate issue to take care of. As one runner put it, "An army may travel on its stomach, but marathoners travel on their... well... you know." :-)

But that's nothing compared to the traffic. I've heard reports and seen pictures of hordes of people having to walk/run from the freeway to the stadium... more than a mile or so... just to get to the starting line... because the freeways became so grid-locked. It wasn't just people being dropped off in cars... even the shuttle buses couldn't get through and people were jumping out the doors and running to the stadium because they knew they were going to miss the start. The start ended up delayed by 22 minutes... and at the time as I sat in my corral, I kept wondering why... but fortunately the sun never came out in full force so the late start didn't push us into the heat of the day (as expected).

It had dawned on me as I left the chaos of the expo on Saturday... basically LAM 2010 was like an inaugural race, even though this was its 25th year... it had new owners, new management and a new course... a situation ripe for disaster when you've got 25,000 runners, a p2p course, shuttle buses, parking issues, and major road closures. It'd be really hard for them to pull it all off smoothly with no snafus. So now, I'm really glad I got there early and avoided ruining my race before it even started... I don't need their help with that... I can do that myself out on the course. But enough with the logistics.

Nutrition

I didn't do the carb deplete-load thing that some of my marathon friends do. But I did load up on carbs... good carbs... for three days starting on Thursday. I also was drinking fluids non-stop to hydrate well, especially on Saturday. I had a good plate of spaghetti on Santa Monica Blvd on Saturday night... well, other than the long hair I found cooked into it... so the meal now goes down as my worst pre-race meal ever. But I kept telling myself despite all the snafus with traffic, the expo, parking, etc... just stay positive... it'll all work out.

And early Sunday morning, three hours before the race, I had my PB & honey sandwich with coffee. And on the bus and in the corral, I finished a second cup of coffee and a bottle of water. I took three gel packs: (1) 10 minutes before the start; (2) another at 10 miles; and (3) another at 20 miles.

Weather

It was supposed to be ~52° F and cool at the start, and it was. The humidity was ~75% (acc. to the TV broadcast)... but that's not miserable or unreasonable. Weather at the finish in Santa Monica was more of a concern. It was supposed to be sunny and a high of 75° in the mid-afternoon. But fortunately, the marine layer of thin overcast cloud cover never burned off. It was almost hard to detect shadows. It was mid-60ish when I finished... warmer than I prefer for a marathon, but again not unreasonable.

Tactics and Race Execution

I ended up at front of sub-4 corral (just behind sub-3 runners) and crossed the start line within 6 seconds of the start.

And I must say, I thought I did an excellent job running the tangents. I'm surprised my GPS says I ran an extra 0.15 miles. I was on the inside of the circle going around Dodger Stadium. I always spotted the direction of the next turn and ran gradually diagonally to it... often by myself apart from the parade of other runners. But running the tangents like that can help prevent running an extra minute or two in a marathon with all the turns and curves.

LAM records my 5K splits as:
05K - 20:46 - 0:20:46
10K - 22:52 - 0:43:38
15K - 22:29 - 1:06:07
20K - 22:39 - 1:28:46
25K - 22:18 - 1:51:04
30K - 23:25 - 2:14:29
35K - 24:59 - 2:39:28
40K - 25:54 - 3:05:22

I pretty much ran by feel. I wore my HR monitor, and I suspect some people think I'm obsessed with the thing, but I really didn't watch my HR or pace much while racing. There were so many hills on the first 8 miles that pace was irrelevant. You just had to go by feel. And I could always feel if I was starting to push too hard, and usually my HR monitor would indicate that as well.

Disappointments

I'm still trying to figure out how I missed all my main goals so miserably. Running 3:10 seemed way too doable, almost as if I was shooting too low. As I was running towards the finish and knew I could push no harder because I was cramping up so bad... I was wondering... am I just an over-achiever at shorter distances (half in 1:23, 10K in 38, 10-miles in 64) and just an under-achiever at the marathon? Or maybe both? I dunno. The frustrating thing is that I trained specifically for the full marathon... not for shorter races... lots of long training runs as I mentioned... lots of MP miles.

But I was cramping up pretty bad in the last 6-8 miles. It was really demoralizing when the 3:10-pace group and their balloons on a stick came bobbing by ~mile 18. And I couldn't do anything about it. I saw my goals running off down the road without me. Of course, it was also pretty bad when I got passed by Minnie Mouse around mile 10 or 11... you never want to get passed by a guy dressed like Minnie Mouse in a race... never... I don't care who you are... at least with my disappointing run at Boston 07, then I was able to beat the Easter Bunny and a Dairy Cow.

It was really disappointing to not get to take advantage of the super sweet downhill in the last 3 miles. The women's winner ran 2 of her fastest miles of the day (5:10 and 5:17) in those 3 miles... but not me. At that point, I was spent and cramping up really bad... calves... legs... abdomen... very hard to keep from stopping and walking, but I never did... but I also never ran faster than 8:01 for any of those 3 miles... over a minute slower than what I had hoped. It really hurts to be cramping up while running downhill... well, actually it hurts if you're cramping and running uphill too... or on flat ground... or walking... standing... sitting... breathing... existing...

After I finished, I just wandered around kinda aimlessly and cluelessly. I didn't know what to say. I wasn't happy at all with my performance and couldn't explain why it went this way. I walked on back to my car and was happy that it wasn't towed. :-) And then I remembered, Dang it... I checked a bag at Dodger Stadium that I needed to pick up... and my brain was so fried, I couldn't remember what I had put in it... My wallet? No... Cell phone? No, I don't have one... What was in the mystery bag? So I walked back to the finish only to find that I had to descend down the pier nearly 100' in elevation (not distance) to where the bags were. After a long wait, I got my treasures and was grateful to find all the insignificant food and trash I had checked before the race. Good planning by my pre-race self. Then I looked up and saw the street way above me... seemingly perched atop a high alpine peak... in my delusional state of mind I wondered, Where do you catch the tram back up to the top?

Anyway. Such was my day. Three days later, I've had lots of time to sit and think... especially to sit... my legs still don't like the idea of walking yet... I nearly fell on my face in front of a class of students on Monday because my legs didn't respond when my brain clearly sent them nerve signals to move and they didn't. And I'm still trying to sort it all out. I dunno. Maybe I just haven't given myself enough time lately to develop as a marathoner. I ran Leadville (July 09) and Big Bear (Sept 09) on minimal training (due to the PF) and survived those two. It's really only been the 6 months since that I've had solid non-stop training (except for the hamstring hiccup in Jan). It really takes several years of consistent training to truly develop in the marathon.

Did I peak too early in my training cycle? I don't think so. I did a 2-week taper this time and my runs in weeks 5, 4, and 3 were progressively getting faster and better. I felt like I was peaking just right for this race.

Was I dehydrated? Again, I don't think so. It didn't turn out hot and sunny, but I did sweat a lot nonetheless. I took Power-Ade or water at nearly every mile aid station. And I drank a cup of coffee and a bottle of water on the bus and then in the starting corral... and I seemed sufficiently hydrated and re-used both of those containers for other purposes. I am wondering if I need to take electrolyte supplements to help avoid cramping and to help stay hydrated though.

As I still scratch my head and wonder what happened, I'm thinking probably more than anything, I just ran too hard on the hills (both uphill and especially downhill) in the opening 8 miles. I think I probably trashed my calves and quads at the cellular level more than I realized at the time (even though my effort and HR didn't indicate I was overdoing it)... and then I just paid for it later. Many of those opening downhills were pretty steep. I should've remembered all the warnings about the same kind of downhills at the start of Boston... if you run them too fast, your quads will hate you at the end... and it'll become a death march.

But you know, at Boston 07, I regretted that I never attacked the course and ran aggressively... I never gave myself a chance to do well that day. On Sunday at LAM, I may have overdone it on the opening, even though it didn't seem like it at the time, but I'd rather go for it than be hesitant. Hitting half in 1:34 seemed very reasonable (at the time)... 9 minutes slower than I ran the Palm Springs Half 5 weeks ago (1:25)... but then again the front half of LAM was much, much hillier than Palm Springs.

Fortunately, unlike Boston 07 (my last marathon PR attempt), I'm healthy and injury-free... sore from cramping... but injury-free. So I should be able to recover, resume training, and build on this (unlike Boston)... well, I hope to. Three days later, my left calf and thigh are still pretty sore. We'll have to see how this recovery goes. If it goes well, I might consider doing a quick turn-around marathon instead of waiting again until the Fall... maybe the OC Marathon (May 2), maybe Palos Verdes (May 15), maybe San Diego Rock-n-Roll (June 6). But they each have their plusses and minuses... and I'm still pretty stiff and sore.

And I don't mean to sound depressed or distraught by this race report. I am frustrated and disappointed with my race performance and execution. I don't get a second chance at a marathon this weekend... I'm not built like my friend Sam Felsenfeld who is running 60 marathons this year... and wow, I have so much more admiration for him now after the pain I felt this weekend. My disappointment is simply that I trained very well for this race and just didn't execute it well on race day. That's frustrating.

But all in all, it was still a great run. Despite the logistical snafus with the new course this year, it was a great race. The course has a net downhill of 430' but it's still not an easy course... especially in miles 18-23 with some uphill. The downhill finish to the beach is super sweet if your legs aren't trashed from the hills at the opening.

It's an incredibly scenic and iconic course. Flying down Rodeo Drive was a blast. Running towards the Hollywood sign on Sunset Blvd was great. It was great running down Hollywood Blvd in front of the Pantages Theatre (where my family saw Cats just last weekend), Grauman's Chinese Theatre, the Kodak Theatre. On the TV broadcast, they showed that even Samuel L. Jackson was outside at the Kodak Theatre cheering on runners. My son thought it was cool that Mace Windu had cheered me on. :-) The crowds were outstanding... all the way... lots of bands, cheerleaders, and other groups.

So yeah, it was still a good experience, just not a good run on my part. It had been 7 years since I had run LAM, and this time I really hoped to nail it. But I didn't. But I am healthy, injury-free, and looking forward to my next attempt.

Sorry for the way too long description and thanks for reading. And btw, here is a great time-lapsed video of the race.

Unplanned Sneak-a-thon at Diamond Valley Lake

2010-02-06T12:00:00.000-08:00

(Alternate title: "It Never Rains in California... Ha!")

I've been training for the L.A. Marathon which is 6 weeks from tomorrow. Training has been going well. I like to incorporate a few tune-up races into my marathon training cycle so I had planned on running the Diamond Valley Lake Half Marathon on January 23... but it was postponed two weeks due to bad weather (ironically). I ran a 10K instead that day. Ended up deciding to run the Palm Springs Half on Feb 14 instead since our family plans were too hectic to race on Feb 6 at Diamond Valley out near Hemet.

But yesterday, my son's basketball game was cancelled for today (ironic that an indoor game was cancelled, but my outdoor event today wasn't... but I digress) and Mary Ann mentioned, Well now you can go run that race. So I was going to run the half... and incorporate it as part of a long run... 2-mile warm-up, race the half, and cool-down for 5 for 20 total. But then I thought, you know, I might as well go ahead and run the full marathon and support my friend Sam Felsenfeld and his effort to run 60 marathons in 2010 as he raises support for autism research (www.operationjack.com). Sam's a great guy and a great runner and I really admire all his efforts for the sake of his son, Jack.

So even though I had trained hard all week (MP miles on Tues and LT miles on Thurs) and had zero taper, I figured, just go out and try not to overdo it or shoot my wad and ruin my chances for a PR at LAM in 6 weeks. I figured I'd go out and try to hit 8:00 miles and try to keep my HR in the 140s or 150s and not overdo it and try to finish ~3:30.

And the weather... well, that's a whole other story. Forecast looked bad... real bad. Rain showers all morning long. And since I ran the half at Diamond Valley years ago, I knew the wind would be really whipping off that lake... and it was. And I also knew that except for the parking lot and the three dams (DVL is a man-made reservoir), the marathon course was all on the dirt service road circling the lake... and it would be muddy and messy. But you know, even though I was doing this short-notice, with zero taper, in bad weather... I really admire Sam for enduring unknown conditions week after week for the sake of his cause. So I wasn't about to wimp out on Sam. I was committed.

I got up at 5:30am and checked the weather hoping that maybe the forecast changed overnight... but it didn't... except it was going to be a few degrees warmer than predicted, which was good. It ended up being 54° at the start (not the 40s)... which was about the only redeeming aspect of the weather today... well, other than a couple of gorgeous rainbows during the race. But of course, it feels much much colder when you're soaked to the bone and getting pelted by winds.

As I was driving out to Diamond Valley Lake through pouring rain, I was thinking, This is really crazy. Got there. Sat in my car for a while as I watched all the race personnel and vendor set up things. It was like a circus seeing all the canopies getting blown and coverings flapping in the wind. I sat there thinking, And we're supposed to run in this? This is insane! (Note: notice the blown over sign with the concrete base in the picture.)

I spotted Sam and asked his advice about what to wear. Micro-fleece? Two tech shirts? Gloves? Hat? (And no, I didn't even bring the now infamous Boston rain pants... not even an option.) I ended up wearing shorts, one long-sleeve tech shirt, running cap, and no gloves. The sideways rain was stinging our legs. I hid under a canopy near the start line waiting for the starting gun. I didn't want to spend one second standing out there exposed to the elements while not running. I figured (or hoped?) my body would generate enough heat while running to keep me warm.

Gun sounded and we were off. I ran with Sam for a few minutes and then let him go on ahead of me. The dirt road which circles the lake is ~22 miles so we started counter-clockwise and did a short out-and-back and then came back through the starting line after running ~4.5 miles. At the turn-around, I thought I was in about 10th or 12th place, but not sure.

Now we'll be circling the lake clockwise for the rest of the day. The wind is strong. The dirt road meanders up and down and in and out along all the inlets and curvatures of the shoreline. For the first several miles I try avoiding the puddles and mud, but after a while it's useless so I just try avoiding the soft mud with deep footholes from the runners ahead of me. Don't wanna come out of a shoe with the suction of that mud.

We cross back through the east marina and are cheered on by the race people at the start. When we hit the east dam, the conditions are unreal. It's nearly 2 miles across the east dam and it's perfectly level... but I ended up logging my slowest miles of the day on it because of the strong headwind... but I could look at my HR monitor and know I didn't want to work any harder through that wind. As I came across other runners, we all just laughed at the conditions and knew this was one for the memory books. Even the nor'easter in Boston 2007 was mild compared to this. We would come around a bend in the road and get absolutely blasted by headwinds. Occasionally, we felt the push of a tailwind or ran in the leeside of a hill, but you never break even in conditions like that.

Fortunately, when we hit the two smaller dams on the west end of the lake, we were pushed by a strong tailwind. My pace was suddenly in the 7:20s without much effort and I felt like a kite. We were all flying across those dams. The guy on the bike leading the race leader later said he didn't even pedal across the west dams since the wind just pushed him and he even had to use his brakes... although the big climbs at the end of those two dams made my mile splits there a little more average though.

Along the way, I could see Sam about a couple of minutes ahead of me. At MM 16, I measured that I was only 64 seconds behind him. But then he seemed to just take off and was far further ahead. On those western dams, I lost sight of him in the rainclouds. I was still trying not to overdo it but sub-consciously it's just natural to reel in runners ahead and one by one I did all day. There was Eric the ultra-runner, then a lady who was struggling with ankle pain, then a guy out in his first marathon, then Steve from Pasadena who was running his 153rd... and then Sam.

The bad thing about running behind Sam was that he ended up being like a carrot in front of me that I couldn't keep out of my sights. Around mile 24, I caught up to him and it was good to run the rest of the way in together. A couple of last good-sized climbs, rounded a bend, and there was the east marina back in sight. Sam wanted me to finish ahead of him, but there was no way I was gonna bump him down a spot. Sam said, Let's go! And we pushed it. He crossed in 3:28:01 for fifth place and I was one step behind him (3:28:02). All in all, a solid run in poor conditions. He ended up nabbing 2nd in his AG (30-39) and I got 3rd in mine (40-49).

Mile splits: (pace and avg HR)
01 ... 7:51 ... 145
02 ... 8:00 ... 149
03 ... 7:52 ... 146
04 ... 7:52 ... 147
05 ... 8:09 ... 149
06 ... 8:10 ... 149
07 ... 8:39 ... 148 – into strong headwind on east dam
08 ... 8:05 ... 148
09 ... 7:48 ... 148
10 ... 7:57 ... 150
11 ... 8:10 ... 147
12 ... 7:48 ... 148
13 ... 7:59 ... 152
14 ... 7:58 ... 152
15 ... 7:58 ... 152
16 ... 8:01 ... 153
17 ... 7:55 ... 151
18 ... 7:45 ... 152 – pushed by tailwind on west dams
19 ... 7:57 ... 152
20 ... 7:59 ... 150
21 ... 8:02 ... 152
22 ... 8:01 ... 156
23 ... 7:58 ... 158
24 ... 7:42 ... 161 – catching up to Sam
25 ... 8:29 ... 156 – couple of good-sized climbs at the end
26 ... 7:50 ... 156
(Note: my GPS only measured 26.0 miles... but GPS isn't always 100% precise... fwiw, Sam has the same GPS as mine and his measured 26.4 miles...)

I ended up running my first negative split in a marathon (1:44:20/1:43:35... watch-time)... well, at least one that wasn't drastically uphill on the first half (ala Pikes Peak, Crater Lake, Death Valley, or Leadville). I'll take tomorrow off from running, but Sam will be running the same pace tomorrow morning for 26.2 miles at the Surf City Marathon. Thanks for reading and good on ya, Sam! Great to run with you today.

Running the Bear

2009-09-14T12:00:00.000-07:00

Well, I didn't plan to blog about my run at the Big Bear Lake Marathon since this wasn't a peak effort or a target race for me, but I was describing it to some running friends online and ended up typing way too much (as usual) so I enhanced the narrative and here's my recap.

I knew going into this that I wasn't in great marathon shape... I was battling plantar fasciitis in the winter and spring which severely limited my running. I got in barely enough runs to run the Leadville Trail Marathon on July 11. But then I only got about five decent weeks of training in between recovering from Leadville and then tapering for Big Bear. And my long runs didn't go well (I was bonking at the end of the last 3... not good) and my weekly mileage wasn't as high as I like it (only averaging ~55mpw)... so I knew going in, that it was going to be a struggle on Saturday. But I wanted to continue running this race each year, since I did so last year in the inaugural edition. I also wanted to "Run the Bear" (the marathon slogan) since I did the "Ride around the Bear" bike century through Big Bear back in June.

So on Friday, I drove up to Big Bear and secured the same campsite (Yellow Post #26) on the southshore that I had used before last year's race. Then I went over to the race HQ and registered. Normally, I do that well in advance, but lately I just never know if my plantar fascia is going to let me race or not. I called Mary Ann to let her know everything was going smoothly... and I began my pitchtalk that we really need to buy a house up here and live here year round... :-) Then I went over to the pasta dinner sponsored by the local middle school. Good carbs.

They changed the course for this year so it was actually a little easier compared to last year. Last year, it was a loop course that included some long climbs up high to the ski resorts in miles 19 and 20... really, really tough since Big Bear Lake itself is at 6,750'. This year, they basically took the first half of last year's course, and made it an out-and-back... which removed those monster climbs and retained the most scenic part of last year's course. But still there were some good-sized roller-coaster hills in the last 4 miles after crossing the dam this year... really tough stuff... hills at altitude at the end of a marathon is a recipe for some serious pain and suffering.

So last year, I ran 3:21 (having bonked on those tough climbs) and finished 10th overall. I knew that even with the new course, I probably couldn't get within 10-15 minutes of that time since my training has been limited by PF. But still, 3:30 was my goal (basically 8:00/mile pace)... which is tough enough on roller-coaster hills in thin air. And I ended up running Saturday's race with my trainers (Air Pegasus) because my PF did not like my Asics Speedstars (my normal racing shoes) at all earlier this week when I tried a short easy run in them.

Unfortunately, they started the race 2 hours later this year... they had one of those blasted bike tour thingies beforehand. I'm certainly not against cycling, but it's aggravating when a bike event delays a marathon start by 2 hours on a sunny, warm day. Runners more than cyclists need the cooler early morning temps to do well. So us runners didn't start til 8:30am. Aaaarrrrggghhhh. I made it very clear to every race volunteer that I encountered that that is waaaaaay too late to start a marathon in one of the sunniest places in the country. Seriously, Big Bear has more sunny days than almost any other place in the US. It was 49° at 6:30am (perfect marathon weather). But two hours later when we started running it was already 64° and sunny, and when I finished shortly after noon it was 75°... and there were plenty of people behind me that had to endure more of that hot sunny weather than I did. If you're not running, those temps are nice, but marathoners risk serious dehydration if it's that warm. It was one of those mornings where you could feel the intense sunshine even before the air temps had a chance to warm up. Fortunately, I lathered myself in 70+ SPF sunscreen, otherwise I would have been scorched, not just dehydrated.

I'm a little embarrassed to post my mile splits because in the closing miles I logged some of my worst mile splits ever (outside of Pikes Peak and Leadville). But I try to be a transparent kind of guy, even when I don't do so well, so here goes...

Mile 1 = 7:50, 0:07:50 - Taking it easy on the opening climbs from the marina on Pine Knott Drive and west on Hwy 18.

Mile 2 = 7:16, 0:15:07 - This mile marker had to be off since I did not speed up that much. I was chatting with a couple of other runners, one of which I suddenly realized I knew from previous races. We pass through a water station but only one of us was able to grab a bottle while running through... so we share it among ourselves... good thing because we were gonna need every drop we could get in our system later in the day....

Mile 3 = 7:46, 0:22:54 - Starting to get in a groove. I'm thinking, Don't run any faster than I think I can maintain at the end of the race. Try for an even effort.

Mile 4 = 7:49, 0:30:43 - Enjoying the scenery. I catch up to a guy who's a firefighter and we chat for a while. We're thinking, These hills are going to be tough to come back over on the way back.

Mile 5 = 7:44, 0:38:27 - The lake is beautiful to run near. We're now running through the last of the half-marathon racers that started at the same time but 2 miles up the road from us. We'll be running through the half runners all the way to our halfway point.

Mile 6 = 7:34, 0:46:02 - A little fast... I hope I'm not letting the half racers cause me to run too fast by subconsciously trying to reel them in.

Mile 7 = 7:46, 0:53:49 - Back in my groove. Highway 38 is a nice smooth place to run, right next to the lake. There's a little bit of shade from some trees, but not much.

Mile 8 = 7:46, 1:01:35 - Becoming the definition of running in a groove...

Mile 9 = 7:38, 1:09:13 - Oops, slightly lost my groove... 1/3rd done.

Mile 10 = 7:56, 1:17:09 - Now running on the bike path on the northshore through Serrano campground. It's more up and down than the highway is.

Mile 11 = 7:51, 1:25:01 - Still on the bike path going up and down... I gradually pass another marathoner, and we chat a little bit.

Mile 12 = 7:43, 1:32:44 - Back in the groove again...

Mile 13 = 7:35, 1:40:19 - Oops, how the heck did that happen, that was a tough mile... maybe the mile marker was slightly off...

Half = 1:42:00 - On track for a 3:24 finish... I don't feel like I'm overdoing it, but that's still probably too fast for me... but we'll have to wait and see...

Mile 14 = 9:05, 1:49:25 - What?!? This mile marker was definitely off... I didn't slow down much if any, even though there were some uphills. I'm now running next to another marathoner near the turnaround, and I mentioned, "I think you're second female overall." She said, "Yeah, but the other lady is way too far ahead of me." I said, "Well, you never know... it's hot out here... there's gonna be a lot of people fading on the back half today." She moved on ahead of me but slowly I caught back up, and unfortunately, I think the heat took it's toll on her because gradually she faded and I didn't see her any more. It was becoming very lonely out there now. The half marathoners had split off and us marathoners were very spread out. I couldn't see another runner in either direction for miles and miles on the back half until long after I had recrossed the dam.

Mile 15 = 6:53, 1:56:18 - Some of this mile was obviously in the last one. I definitely didn't suddenly run a sub-7 mile.

Mile 16 = 8:14, 2:04:32 - Now I'm going uphill on the highway towards the Big Bear Discovery Center... it's getting sunny and hot... I can't see anyone in front of me... and I won't all the way to the finish...

Mile 17 = 7:58, 2:12:31 - Maybe I can hang onto 8:00/mile pace and still get my 3:30 goal...

Mile 18 = 7:48, 2:20:19 - Ah, nice split... there's that groove again.

Mile 19 = 7:57, 2:28:17 - This is about where I would start bonking in my long runs in training... let's see if I can work through this...

Mile 20 = 8:28, 2:36:45 - Just keep running, even if I have to slow down some...

Mile 21 = 8:06, 2:44:52 - These hills in the last five miles are going to be brutal... keep on running...

Mile 22 = 10:15, 2:55:08 - Finally on an uphill, I have to stop running and start power-hiking... my heart-rate is spiking... and no sooner do I slow from running and a motorcycle patrolman pulls up and says, "Jeff!?!" And it's my friend Chad. Dang it... wouldn't you know he'd spot me just as I start walking... :-) anyway, he was working patrol for the race and just happened to spot me. He rode alongside me for a good half mile and we chatted.... it was kinda nice... it took my mind off my misery for a while... :-) Chad offered to get me some water or food. I said, "How 'bout a ride..." :-) Of course, I was kidding... I was gonna finish this race even if I had to crawl to the finish. Chad said I was about 10th or 11th place... I said, I don't think I'm that high. I figured I was probably about 15th or 16th but I really didn't know. And it really didn't matter... I was struggling so bad that I honestly expected people behind me would be waiting in line to pass me.

While talking to Chad, we crossed the dam at the far western end of the lake which also was the lowest point on the course. That dam part was really tough because it was mostly uphill from there for the next several miles. Just pure evil.

Mile 23 = 10:39, 3:05:47 - My 3:30 goal is getting crushed by these hills and the intense sunshine. I'm really dehydrated and cramping up, even though I'm guzzling all the liquids I can get my hands on at every aid station.

Mile 24 = 9:22, 3:15:10 - At last a little downhill... run as much as I can...

Mile 25 = 11:03, 3:26:14 - That's a Leadville kind of split... but this ain't Leadville... ugh... dang, I see someone coming up from behind me... and within a few minutes he passes me... nice smooth pace for him... but he's the only marathoner that passed me after 3 miles into the race... I'm really surprised because I'm fading horribly... I guess most everyone else must be suffering in the heat and on these hills as well.

Mile 26 = 8:27, 3:34:41 - This was mostly downhill... during this mile, my watch beeped 12:00 noon... ding, dong, my goal was dead... 3:30 was officially gone... now I see another runner coming up behind me in the distance... she looks like she's running strong... I'm gonna try to keep jogging and maintain my place and minimize my damages. And later I learned she was running fast... she ran a 12-minute negative split on the course (1:54/1:42)... wow. (Btw, this was a different lady than the one I saw at the turnaround.) And I barely was able to run fast enough to keep her from passing me. I hate being passed at the end of a race. In the opening miles of a race, I don't mind as much... but at the end of the race, it's just downright annoying.

Back half = 1:54:22... ugly 12:22 positive split

Finish = 3:36:22 (8:15/mile pace), Chad was right... I finished 12th overall... and the next day I was surprised to see in the online results that they listed me first in my age group (M40-44)... but that's only because they didn't count the first two overall finishers who actually were in my AG... even though I don't see it that way. I know I wasn't the fastest or even second fastest person in my AG since the winner finished nearly an hour ahead of me! I'm not exactly sure why races do that with the AG results... I guess everyone needs a trophy. But 12th overall in 3:36? I only dropped 2 spots from last year and yet I was 15 minutes slower? I guess it's still a tough course and it certainly was a hot day... but 12th?... definitely a small crowd. :-) For the record, there were more than 13 of us... :-) but not many more (197 finishers to be exact)... but certainly nothing like the big-city mega-thons... and for my finishing pose, I must give credit to my running maniac friend Sam Felsenfeld... I got it from him... but I had to do that because that's what I felt like this at the end of the race... (btw, check out Sam's goal for 2010... amazing stuff)

I was really surprised that I only got passed by one runner in those last four ugly miles. But I guess it was a war of attrition out there for everyone. I noticed that the same guy who won the race both years finished over 2 minutes slower this year. Maybe it was the warm sunshine or maybe those hills on the new course aren't really that much easier than the ones on last year's course. I dunno.

Anyway, I'm a little disappointed that I wasn't in shape to run as fast as I did last year, but I'm not too disappointed. I knew I was going into this undertrained and my long runs were not optimum... and I must admit I'm pretty amazed I was able to keep from bonking worse, even though those last 5 miles were ugly enough. At least that didn't happen a few miles earlier.

And I am glad that I ran this, even though it was painful at the end. This is the 2nd year for Big Bear having a marathon and I've run them both. I'd like to make this an annual tradition... especially if we ever happen to move up there... a 90-minute commute isn't that bad, is it? :-)

Thanks for reading.

Climbing Rainier

2009-07-28T00:00:00.000-07:00

I enjoy mountains, and especially 14ers. So far, I’ve managed to get my sorry tail up on top of a dozen 14ers in Colorado and California… but none of those were on snow and ice. So when my wife and I were planning an extended family trip in July starting in Colorado, going through Yellowstone, and ending in Seattle, she suggested, "You know, the kids and I could fly home on some cheap Southwest tix, and you could take some time to hike and drive the car home." For some that might seem like I was getting the short end of the stick, but for me, my eyes lit up at the idea... and it was her suggestion. :-)

Of course, the first thought on my mind was Rainier. We had been to Seattle before and seen that massive white giant in the distance. I started surfing the internet for plane tix and guide services. Even though I’ve done a good bit of hiking, I knew enough to know I couldn’t go up the snow and ice of Rainier alone. It turned out that RMI guide services in the town of Ashford at the southwest corner of Rainier had one opening left for a guided climb of Rainier at just the right time when our Seattle trip would be ending. So I bit the bullet and committed. At first, the cost seemed a bit pricey, but I knew I had no other way up the mountain and I had no idea when I’d ever be back in the Rainier area by myself to attempt this. And now in hindsight, I know that the guided services of RMI were worth every penny. They are consummate professionals with thorough training and excellent knowledge of the mountain and its challenges.

So on Thursday, July 23, after having a blast with my wife and kids for three full days in Seattle, they flew home and I found myself alone in the great Northwest and driving towards this intimidating white giant in the distance, unsure what the next several days held in store. That night, I found a great campsite at Big Creek campground between Ashford and the southwest entrance to Mount Rainier National Park. This would be home for the next three nights until the climb began.

Friday morning, I drove up into the park and toured the Paradise Visitor Center, got the kids’ National Park passport books stamped, photographed some wildlife (black-tail deer and marmots), and soaked up some of the natural wonders (waterfalls, creeks, and old-growth forests). That afternoon in Ashford, orientation began at the RMI base. I picked up my rental boots… big, heavy, hard-shell, cold-weather waffle-stompers and an avalanche transceiver... yikes!

At 3:00pm, our group started gathering. There would be nine of us climbers and three guides. Joel would be our main guide. He’s a laid-back, mid-20s guy who pretty much spends most of his time year-round climbing and guiding. He’s kinda quiet and didn’t talk much about his credentials, but I did learn he’s been on such peaks as Denali, Aconcagua (high point of South America), and Rainier (63 times!) among many, many others.

We went over our schedule and route, and Joel did a gear and equipment check with all of us. This step was important since one person’s inadequate equipment could jeopardize the success of the trip for all of us. Since this was my first ice and snow climb, I was using mostly borrowed (thanks, Dan!), new, or rented equipment. I also was unfamiliar with the weather extremes we could face on such a northern, massive, stand-alone peak like Rainier. The mountain literally creates its own weather patterns since it stands so close to the on-shore flow of Pacific moisture.

I discovered during the orientation that my outer coat and gloves were not sufficient for the extremes of Rainier, so I had to rent some from RMI. Three days later on the summit, I was very glad for that decision. It’s not uncommon to encounter 70-80 mph winds and air temps below zero on the summit, even in July. And even though the forecast for our summit day looked good with warm air and calm winds, that can change in an instant in the Cascades and you have to be prepared.

Saturday dawned and we all gathered again in Ashford to head up to the Muir snowfield for climbing school. Basically, we spent about six hours learning how to use crampons and ice axes, how to perform a self-arrest in case of a fall, and how to climb roped up. The self-arrest session was pretty intense. The guides taught us how to hold our ice axes and what to do if we fell feet first or head first, on our front or on our backs, and whether the ice axe was in our left or right hands. We practiced these techniques over and over because this could be critical on such a climb. None of us looked very graceful as we threw ourselves all over the slopes to practice stopping our falls. That night when I talked to Mary Ann, she asked how my day went and I remarked, “Well, I only fell 20 or 30 times.” :-)

Sunday dawned and we gathered again in Ashford for the bus ride up to Paradise (5,400’) to begin our climb. Hands down, I won the award for the largest pack because I decided to wear running shoes for the first couple of miles on trails and packed my big heavy boots in my pack for the snow. But my pack was also stuffed with food, water, sleeping bag, climbing gear (harness, helmet, crampons, ice axe, trekking poles, headlamp, etc.), and layers of clothes, coats, and gloves. I carried absolutely nothing extra and still my pack was bulky and quite weighty. Fortunately, on summit day, most of the gear and clothes we’d be wearing and we could leave other items at Camp Muir for our return.

With full packs, we made slow but steady progress on the lower trails up to Pebble Creek. Our clothes, gear, and packs stood out noticeably from the day-hikers ambling about in that part of the park. The mountain loomed ominously above us and we all marched single-file rather quietly as we wondered what the next two days would hold. Several times on the initial ascent on this cloudless day, we heard thunder in the distance... but it wasn’t thunder. It was the loud rumble of rock and ice falling from the steep glaciated slopes as the ice melted in the afternoon heat. It was a rather somber sight to see the dust and mist in the distance from those unpredictable crashes.

At Pebble Creek, we all changed into our boots. The rest of our day would be making the slow upward ascent across the Muir snowfield. The sun was so intense that I wanted to rename it Muir Beach. :-) I hiked in shorts and still was dripping wet with sweat. Dark sunglasses were mandatory since you could quickly sunburn your retinas from the reflection off the snow. I was lathered in sunscreen and wore a bandana under my baseball hat to cover my neck.

Our three guides were very punctual about everything we did. We would hike for an hour and then break for 15 minutes. Efficiency was the name of the game. At each break, they instructed us to grab food and water, make any clothing adjustments and then sit on our packs (straps up out of the snow) to rest. They would give us a three-minute warning at the end and we would all start up together again. They knew if we were inefficient at these transitions, it would only prolong the climb unnecessarily for everyone.

As we spent four days together, the eight of us got to know each other quite well. We ended up losing one hiker at the first rest stop who was not feeling well. We all felt bad for him because he was more than capable of completing the climb (and had done so previously), except for whatever bug that was ailing him. Of course, a challenge like Rainier brings together a fascinating cadre of people. One guy was an F-15 pilot in the Air Force (every guy’s dream job). Two others were a father and daughter (a senior in HS) from Georgia who had literally traveled the world and done other exciting climbs like Kilimanjaro. Two others were a couple who were computer programmers from Ohio who had hiked with Joel previously. We razzed them all weekend because they had said they really weren’t outdoorsy people... and here they were climbing Rainier of all things. :-) Another lady worked for the Dept of Energy in DC. Another worked in a jewelry store in Florida, and for cross-training she liked to box. I was sure not to mess with her... she could beat me up. And one of our guides was a med student in Boston who was taking a semester off to guide and get married (to another guide).

Around three in the afternoon, we arrived at the primitive settlement known as Camp Muir. It’s a collection of small, odd-shaped buildings perched on the rocks above the Muir snowfield at 10,000’. Half of one building was a bunk house solely used by RMI. We all went inside and grabbed bunks. We felt spoiled because we were the only group using the bunkhouse that night so we got to double-up on mattress pads and had extra space to spread out our gear.

Around four o’clock, the guides came in and provided us all the hot water we wanted for our freeze-dried meals. They also gave us specific instructions for the night and the climb the next day. “Lights out” was six o’clock sharp. Even if you couldn’t sleep at that time, you were expected to be horizontal in your bunk resting. Any conversations were to be done outside or at a whisper. All our packing for the climb was to be completed before going to bed. When they woke us up in the middle of the night, we’d have exactly one hour to eat breakfast and finish getting ready. At 6:00pm, I made one last visit to the solar latrine and I hit my bunk with my ski cap pulled over my eyes since it wouldn’t get dark for another four hours. Even with ear plugs, I could still hear the wind outside howling.

I was surprised that I managed to get a decent amount of sleep. Probably within an hour I was asleep. But suddenly, my sleep was interrupted by the sound of the guides waking us up. It felt like I had only slept a few minutes. I looked at my watch, 11:38pm... Geez, it’s not even midnight yet... I doubt Mary Ann back in Riverside is even in bed! (And she wasn’t when I mentioned this to her later.)

I hopped out of bed. I threw on some warmer clothes and headed for the solar latrine. (I didn’t want to have to wait in a line at this time of the night.) The last thing I wanted to have to do was to use the infamous “blue bag” on the mountain later in the climb. :-) (You have to pack out everything that you bring to the mountain... and I mean everything.) When I stepped outside the bunkhouse, I was amazed by the sight. There was no wind and the sky was pitch dark. There was no moon and few lights in camp and so we were engulfed in utter blackness. I also was amazed that the temperatures did not feel unreasonably cold. Our guides warned us not to overdress. If we were cold standing outside, we were dressed just right because we’d heat up as we made the strenuous climb.

After eating a PB & honey sandwich for breakfast and donning my harness, helmet, boots, and crampons, I was outside and eager to go. We were roped up into three teams of 4, 4, and 3 each. On my rope, Joel was the leader and I was the anchor. In between us were the husband and wife from Ohio. Our rope team headed out first across the snowscape.

Since we were trekking by the light of our headlamps and had to be careful with our steps in these clumsy boots and crampons, we didn’t get to see much of our surroundings. Every now and then we stepped across a crack in the ice and snow which was a subtle reminder that sometimes underneath were deep unseen crevasses. Up ahead in the distance, we saw a few strings of lights created by the headlamps of other climbers ascending the trail ahead of us.

After about an hour, we all stopped for our first break at the Ingraham Flats. What’s kind of funny is that due to the darkness at this time we didn’t even know that there were dozens of tents within a few yards of us. At the break, we were instructed to immediately put on our heavy down jacket to keep our body heat from escaping. And also we needed to make sure we ate well and drank water, even though at higher elevations our bodies craved less and less food.

Our climb to the top would involve four stages, the fourth stop being on the mountain summit itself. In the second stage, we progressed up the tedious Disappointment Cleaver. Since it was now the middle of the summer, the rock was completely exposed with no snow or ice covering it. At this point, we “short-roped” so that the gap between climbers was now only ~5 feet. “The Cleaver,” as it’s called, was a steep and difficult climb. Walking in heavy boots with crampons on uneven and unstable rock is not exactly easy. At times, we were climbing with all fours as our ice-axes clanked against the rock. But eventually, we had ascended the Cleaver and took a break.

After the Cleaver, our guides extended our ropes back out to normal gaps of ~25’. At such lengths, if someone was to fall or break through, we’d have sufficient rope and space to do a team self-arrest. We were about to be traversing through some treacherous areas. Above us hung unstable rock that could break loose without warning and below us were unseen crevasses... although some of these dangers were reduced by climbing in the coldness of the night when the ice was at its strongest. Climbing at night is foremost an effort in safety, not merely serenity.

Our guides reminded us that we would make swift and steady progress across this stretch. We wouldn’t be slowing down for much of anything. None of us were allowed to whip out a camera. We were climbers first and photographers second. The last thing any of us would want is to need to self arrest while a teammate was holding a camera instead of an ice axe. Your ice axe really is your best friend on a climb like this. You always have to have a solid and uphill grasp of this instrument, just in case.

As we crossed this stretch, we could now begin to see some of the gaping crevasses that were in our vicinity. At times, the trail became quite narrow and we had to carefully step over our own boots and grasp fixed ropes to prevent falling. As we progressed through the darkness, we all wondered just how much exposure was below us that we couldn’t see in the darkness. We’d certainly find out later on the descent.

After our second break, a few of us overheard the guides talking quietly among themselves about some big crack in the ice ahead. Sure ‘nough, we had hardly started and Joel had us reverse rope and we were backing out. We didn’t get to see what we were avoiding, but later on the descent we saw the aluminum ladder roped across a massive crack that we would have had to cross in cumbersome boots and crampons. Instead, Joel had us retreat and led us higher up the ice and away from the upper edge of the crack.

About the time of our third break, we began to see the orange glow of the sunrise on the eastern horizon. We were all grateful that we weren’t facing strong winds or bitter cold, or “nuking” weather as the guides called it. One by one we turned off our headlamps as we ascended in the growing light.

The last stage seemed to be the unending climb up the steep snow bank. There were switchbacks on the trail, but they didn’t reduce the steepness much. Instead the trail looked like a large “Z” stretched and distorted as if by a circus mirror. At times, our guides reminded us to “rest step” (where you pause after each step in the thin air of higher elevation) and to make solid footplants. We were supposed to either splay our feet in a V or to use the French cross-over step to maximize crampon contact with the ice. I found the cross-over step to be the most comfortable in the heavy hiking boots.

Sooner than I expected, Joel mentioned that the rocks up ahead were the lower edge of the crater rim. Joel is no jokester so I knew we would be topping out within 15-20 minutes. It was an amazing moment at 6:31am as we climbed over the rim and had the relief of walking downhill into the crater. About 100 yards further, we all circled the wagons in the shelter of the crater and sat on our packs. It was an odd feeling to know we were sitting in the caldera of a dormant volcano. Sure ‘nough, on the north edge of the crater we could see steam rising from a few of the active fumaroles.

Since we had summitted, but technically weren’t at the mountain’s tippy top, Joel asked if anyone wanted to take about 45 minutes to go across the crater and up to Columbia Crest, the official highpoint at 14,411’ (the fifth highest peak in the lower 48). Not doing that never crossed my mind. I wasn’t about to stop anywhere short of the actual peak. So Joel, Patrick (another of our guides), myself and one other headed off across the crater. It sure seemed a whole lot easier without a pack. :-)

At the crest, we could now see in every direction. Joel pointed out Mts. Saint Helens and Adams to the south, Mount Baker to the north, and the Puget Sound to the northwest. We took summit pictures and enjoyed the views. On the way up, Patrick had mentioned the summit challenge among the guides... doing your age in push-ups on the peak. Sure ‘nough, Patrick hit the dirt and started doing push-ups. It sure didn’t seem like he did that many… and he didn’t have to since he’s in his 20s. :-) I thought, Geez, I hate to not at least try, but I doubt I could do my age at sea-level yet alone at 14,000’ where the air pressure is only 56%. So I hit the ground and started doing them… but I could only do 36... five short... oh well, at least I tried. Even though I did more than Patrick, I have no doubt he could have done far more than 36. Dude is a serious rock climber with some solid upper-body strength. And because of my unsuccessful attempt, I can honestly say that on the day after the climb my only muscles that were sore were my pecs, not my legs.

We then headed over to the summit register and logged our names and headed back across the crater. The four of us didn’t end up with much of a rest break on top, but that was okay. It’s not every day you’re on top of Rainier, and in such perfect weather (calm winds, high 20s, and clear skies)... might as well enjoy it.

So after spending an hour on top, we roped up and began the second half of our trek. Summitting is only halfway. :-) The guides surprised me by telling us that we would now reverse rope. The anchors would now be the leaders and the guides would be in the back. I didn’t know we’d do that... and that now meant that I would be the lead on the front rope team.

Joel liked to run a punctual expedition and didn’t like to waste time, so he instructed me, “Go as fast as you want.” I hadn’t mentioned much about my long-distance running to my fellow climbers (it really didn’t matter since we worked as a team, not as individuals), and so I thought, Wow, most people who know me wouldn’t tell me that if they were roped up to me on an icy slope. :-)

And so off we went, me in the front, Joel in the back, and the couple from Ohio in between. I picked up the pace a good bit as we tromped downhill on the snowy trail. I knew Joel would enjoy the quick descent, and I figured my friends from Ohio would tug on the rope if they needed to slow down. So we came flying down the mountain and into our first rest stop. I didn’t realize how far ahead of the other teams we had gotten, but we ended up having to wait ~20 minutes for their arrival at the top of the Cleaver. That gave us an extra long break which no one minded. My friends from Ohio enjoyed razzing me about how fast we were descending, but they also didn’t complain.

Our descent now slowed as we encountered the tedious task of descending the Cleaver. I honestly think climbing up those rocks in crampons is much easier then climbing down them. We short-roped and I was leading the descent. It was quite tricky and at times difficult to determine the true trail. The guide services had placed wands with red flags to help outline the route... something that becomes even more important in a white-out. But we had the benefit of sunlight and clear skies to help us find our route. As my rope team waited at the bottom of the Cleaver for the others, unfortunately we saw one of our friends trip and tumble. He didn’t stumble far but he did end up twisting his ankle pretty good. Not a good thing. A minor injury on a climb is almost worse than a major injury. If you break your leg, you’ll get rescued from the mountain, but if you twist an ankle... well, you just gotta suck it up and suffer with it the rest of the way.

Below the cleaver, we now traversed the upper glaciers and snowfields that we had crossed earlier in the dark. Now we could see the gaping crevasses through which the trail zigged and zagged. At one crack in the trail, Joel had instructed us to make a long stride across but not to jump. We knew what he was thinking, simply the extra pressure from landing a jump could easily break the tenuous ice bridge upon which we were walking.

Even on the gentle snowfields without crevasses, the sight was a little unnerving. We often came across large boulders strewn across the snow. You could look at those and realize those had come down rather recently, and only from one place... the rocky ledges above… like bowling for climbers. Our guide Kate later mentioned that on one of her first ascents, she was climbing through some thick clouds and heard the sound of fast-moving rocks but she couldn’t see anything. Then suddenly, a huge boulder whizzed right in front of her on the trail. There’s good reason why we didn’t delay when crossing these areas and we only stopped to take photos in the “safe zones.”

We made it back to Camp Muir safely and now had an hour to take off our climbing gear, pack up all our stuff and get some rest. An hour hardly seemed long enough to eat, pack, and rest but none of us complained. The sun was intense and the temperatures were rising quickly on the lower slopes. None of us wanted to delay our return to Paradise.

About 1:00pm we met to begin our slipping and sliding down the slushy snow of “Muir Beach.” Our guides had taught us to slide step to save energy and speed our descent. This became quite a balancing act with heavy packs on our backs. And yes, I did make at least one good slide that any baseball manager would have admired… but I wasn’t the only one. :-) Unfortunately, the slope wasn’t steep enough for glissading until the very end of the snowfield. Still, we made quick time down the slope.

We took a break at Pebble Creek, and I had a chance to change out of my boots into my trail shoes. And this is where a major mistake on my part became more than apparent. On the warm descent, I hadn’t worn any gaiters as we slid through the snow. So when I took off my boots, I literally poured water out of my boots from all the snow that had gotten in there. My socks were absolutely drenched and I had no other dry ones into which to change. So the last two miles on the trails in my running shoes, I hiked with soaking wet socks and developed some lovely blisters. But at least this was at the end of the climb, not the beginning.

So at 3:00pm, we were arriving at Paradise and dropping our packs, and the name Paradise never seemed more appropriate. Soon the RMI shuttle bus was picking us up and we rode quietly for an hour through the park, most with eyes shut. :-)

And so we had done it. We had climbed Rainier. I can’t say we conquered it, because Rainier is the kind of mountain that you can climb, but you never truly conquer. You gotta respect the mountain. It is such a massive mountain, one of the largest single land masses in the world. It’s so large that when our family drove west to Seattle a week ago, we first spotted it on the horizon 140 miles away on I-90.

I apologize that this recap is so long. But with RMI and this being my first true ice climb, summiting Rainier was more than an experience, it was an education. I really appreciate the good people at RMI for their detailed and professional approach to every aspect of this climb. I also appreciate all my teammates who were such strong climbers and made things go so smoothly. The guides were outstanding and had their A-game on at every moment. They weren’t hesitant to correct us when necessary because the success and well-being of the entire team depended on our compliance to good mountaineering technique. And in hindsight, it’s amazing how well they knew the route, efficient procedures, and precisely the proper clothing advice at every transition for us to avoid getting chilled or over-heated.

Climbing Rainier was a daunting challenge and an amazing experience. I thoroughly enjoyed each member of our group and every moment of our trip. The only downside is that now I find myself daydreaming about my next mountaineering venture. Alpine climbing can become very addicting. :-) Thanks for reading.

Running Leadville

2009-07-12T00:00:00.000-07:00

I enjoy running and I enjoy the mountains... and I’m one of those sadistic folks that enjoys running in the mountains... well, I use the term “run” rather loosely. :-) Some of my favorite marathons have been the tough, scenic courses such as Pikes Peak (’03), Crater Lake (’06), Death Valley (’07... the trail marathon... not that Badwater thingie), and Big Bear (’08). So it’s only naturally that sooner or later I would find myself toeing the line in Leadville. It actually was supposed to be sooner (’07), not later (Saturday) since I was registered two years ago... but I DNS’ed due to injuries (overtraining for Boston)... even though that year I was actually in the town of Leadville the day before the marathon (very heart-breaking to say the least).

When I say that I wanted to run Leadville, I need to clarify what I ran... the trail marathon. Even though that might seem daunting enough in and of itself, it’s actually one of the easier races that Leadville hosts (no exaggeration). For those with courageous hearts (or lacking mental sanity), there’s also the famous Leadville 50- and 100-mile races later in the summer. Some marathoners might be disappointed that the Leadville Trail Marathon is not the toughest race in town, no matter how grueling it is... but I actually like it that way. Those crazy ultra runners make me look reasonably sane. And for those who are truly border-line loco, they can run all three of those races and do the Leadville 50- and 100-mile bike races in a single year (5 events... two of which are on the same weekend!) and became a “Leadman” or “Leadwoman.” Suffice it to say, there’s not many of those intrepid souls. But they do end up with their names and all their race times on a nice plaque in the LT100 race store on Harrison Avenue (main street in Leadville).

If you've never been to Leadville, you've missed out on a fascinating place. It’s a small mining town high in the Rockies, in the heart of “14er country.” Well, it’s small now (not even 3,000 in population), but at one time in the 1800s it was the second largest city in Colorado. It has a fascinating history that includes such interesting things as the Ice Palace of 1896 (google it... pretty amazing) and such colorful characters as Doc Holliday, Oscar Wilde, and the Unsinkable Molly Brown. Today, the town is famous for being the highest incorporated city in the country (10,152’)... and thus a summer recreational mecca for cyclists, runners, hikers, climbers, kayakers, and rafters.

What makes the Leadville Trail Marathon (LTM) so tough is not just that it starts (and finishes) at 10,200’, but that’s actually the lowest point on the course. Every step is above 10,000’ ...and the turn-around point halfway is 13,185’ at Mosquito Pass, the second highest open-road mountain pass in the country (only Argentine Pass at 13,207’ is higher, by 22’). Mosquito Pass is a rough, steep 4WD road that connects the mountain towns of Leadville (west) and Fairplay (east).

But what makes LTM even tougher is that it doesn’t just go uphill to the turn-around and back down... that would be too easy. It actually goes up to 12,100’ and then drops down to 11,250’ and then goes up to the turn-around at 13,185’... and yes, that means on the back half of the course (around miles 16-20), the course does the converse by gaining 850’ in elevation. To go uphill that high and that late in a marathon is just pure evil. It makes Heartbreak Hill in Boston seem like a speed bump. Oh, and there’s also a nasty little climb around mile 24 as well. The only other marathon in the country that is arguably as difficult is the Pikes Peak Marathon (which goes higher, but it starts lower and has no uphills on the back half). So the total elevation gain for LTM is ~5300’ (all of which is above 10,000’).

My training for Leadville

Unfortunately, my training for this race was limited since I’ve been battling plantar fasciitis (inflammation of the tendon in the arch of the foot) much of the winter and spring. As late as June, I had pretty much written off attempting Leadville this year. But in the five weeks prior to marathon day, I managed to run three 20-milers and decided to go for it in Leadville on limited training. I even contacted the race director to see if I could back out of the full and only run the half marathon instead if my foot didn’t cooperate. But I really didn’t want to run the half. I wanted the whole experience.

Even though I was attempting Leadville on limited training, working in my favor was acclimatizing. For the twelve days leading up to the race, I was camping and hiking with my son at high elevations and staying with my in-laws (~9,500’) near Fraser, CO. So for nearly two weeks, I was never below 7,000’ (in such places as Flagstaff, Taos, Great Sand Dunes Natl Pk, and Leadville) and hiked with my son to such heights as 12,633’ (Humphreys Peak in AZ), 13,161’ (Wheeler Peak in NM), 14,036’ (Mt Sherman in CO) and 14,433’ (Mt Elbert in CO). Even though you can never completely “normalize” to such high altitudes, it does help... and I know I would have been considerably slower (not that I was blazing fast) if I hadn’t done this. To put it in perspective, the air pressure at 10,000’ is only 66% of that at sea level and at 13,000’ it’s only 59%... ergo, not much oxygen to suck to keep the body going. Geez, at these elevation, I get winded watching TV.

Me in Leadville

So on Friday, I drove over to Leadville to get my race stuff, camp and be ready for the race at 8:00am sharp on Saturday morning. At the LT100 store on Harrison Avenue, it was really cool to see printouts hanging in the windows with all the Leadville race results from last year. For example, the LT100 bike race was posted that listed Lance Armstrong second (to winner Dave Wiens) in 2008. It gave me goose bumps to know that if I managed to finish this marathon, my name would be listed in the store window for twelve months.

To get just a tad more acclimatization, I decided to camp way up the Iowa Gulch road near the trailhead to Mt Sherman, which my son and I had hiked just last week. I was able to grab the same campsite we had used... right at treeline (~11,500’).

I then drove back down to town to make one last check of weather reports. Things looked great. Zero chance of rain in the morning and the typical (for Colorado in summer) chance of rain in the afternoon. I used the wifi at the Provin’ Grounds Coffee Shop on Harrison Ave... btw, great, great coffee shop... one of my favorites.

As I was drinking my hot chocolate (I was avoiding caffeine to ensure good sleep that night), I happened to hear the barrister mention he was running the marathon the next day. We talked a little bit about the race. He had a wry little smile on his face as we talked. But what I didn’t realize until the next day was that it was none other than Anton Krupicka, the famous trail runner. I didn’t realize he lived in Leadville (although I’m not surprised) and worked in the coffee shop, and I didn’t recognize him with a shirt on (the articles I’d seen about him always showed him running shirtless... and he did so on Saturday). He’s won some of the toughest trail races to be found (such as the LT100 and the Rocky Raccoon 100), and this very marathon in 2006. Surprisingly, Anton didn’t win on Saturday. He ran 3:40 (which is crazy fast on this course) but got beat by some guy who ran 3:32 (which is off-the-charts fast).

Race Day

I broke camp, ate a PB & honey sandwich, drank some flat coke (sugar, caffeine, and no fizz), and parked near the starting line. Fortunately, I parked near a very helpful guy who had run this race before. We talked for 30-45 minutes and he gave me some great advice about such things as what to wear and what to take. I got a chance to thank him later on the course, otherwise I might have been overdressed and dehydrated. He recommended taking a hand-held water bottle (and I did) because the seven aid stations weren’t enough to keep you hydrated for this long race.

Being a trail race, there’s no mile markers on the course. Instead there are aid stations about every 3 miles. Going into the race I didn’t mention to anyone my goal time (mainly because I really wasn’t sure if this goal was remotely possible for me), but I was hoping to run sub-5 (even if it was 4:59:59). That seemed like a Herculean challenge on a course like this and I wasn’t even sure if I could get within 30 or 45 minutes of such a goal. So Friday night, I perused past race results and looked at the aid-station time splits for runners who had run 5:00 (see below). This would give me a good estimate how I was doing while out there on the course.

It’s hard to describe this brutal course unless you see it for yourself. The race goes up East Sixth Street directly into the bright morning sun. Less than a mile into the race, the pavement ends and you’re now running (or power-hiking) on old dirt mining roads. At times, the roads are very rocky and very poor for footing. The course also follows some single-track trails (especially around Ball Mtn). Some of the route is exceptionally steep... so steep that when descending it’s hard to keep running because you’re having to brake your fall so much. You know it's a steep race when you see runners at the start line carrying trekking poles (no kidding, including one runner who finished ahead of me).

The route was well marked with pink tape tied to rocks, branches, and other landmarks to keep us on course since there were so many junctions. I still saw some runners who had to backtrack nearly a half mile because they had ventured off course accidentally. Ouch! Eventually, the last 3.3 miles to the turn-around is the steep climb up a gnarly road with switchbacks to the top of Mosquito Pass. I must admit it was disheartening when I rounded a bend for the first time and saw those steep switchbacks across the treeless tundra way in the distance.

My race

For me to complete this race in a minimal amount of pain, I knew it was absolutely imperative to not burn myself out on the first half of the course. If I overdid it, I actually risked not finishing the race at all... and to me, that would be worse than not even starting. Since it’s hard enough to run on flat ground at such altitudes, I knew I had to be very careful going uphill. That’s when you can spike your heart rate and eventually bonk miserably.

As the race started, I slowly jogged (but still this was exhausting at high elevation) up Sixth Street and on uphill on the dirt roads. I was proceeding very cautiously and slowly, careful to monitor my HR and breathing. When the race hit some of the first steeper hills, I started walking... probably only 2 miles into the race. A few of us joked that we had never walked so early in a marathon before (well, actually I had at Pikes Peak... but for similar reasons). In fact, as the race proceeded I ended up walking (or power-hiking with long strides) up almost all the uphills. Other than the opening couple of miles, I doubt I “ran” more than a half mile of the uphills. It was just too exhausting. But when the course flattened out or briefly went downhill, I picked up the pace and started running again. And FWIW, I talked to several runners afterwards who finished well ahead of me and they took the same conservative strategy of hiking almost all the uphills.

I must admit I doubted this strategy some in the opening ten miles because I seemed to be getting passed by a lot of people. But I’ve been in enough marathons to know that it’s less important how many pass you in the first half, it’s more important how many you pass in the second half. So I stuck with my strategy. But 11 miles into the race (while we were doing the steep climb up the switchbacks to Mosquito Pass), I was never passed again (until the last half mile of the race... I'll explain later)... but instead between miles 11 and 25, I kept reeling people in and passed at least a dozen people.

So as I mentioned, there are no mile markers for this race, only aid stations splits. My goal times below are based on the splits of others from the past four years of people who ran 5 hours even. My splits look disproportionate due to the ups and downs of the course, even though I made a very consistent effort all day long.

Aid Station Mileage Altitude (Goal Time) My Time
#1 at 3.8 miles at 11,600’ (0:47:00) 0:47:27
#2 at 7.1 miles at 11,600’ (1:23:00) 1:24:00
#3 at 9.8 miles at 11,250’ (1:45:00) 1:44:26
#4 at 13.1 miles at 13,185’ (2:40:00) 2:44:02
#5 at 16.4 miles at 11,250’ (3:10:00) 3:12:29
#6 at 19.1 miles at 11,600’ (3:40:00) 3:43:52
#7 at 22.4 miles at 11,600’ (4:25:00) 4:27:10
Finish 26.2 miles at 10,200’ (4:59:59) 5:02:52

Highlights of the run

The steep climb up to Mosquito Pass was grueling, but we were treated to stunning views thousands of feet below to Leadville and across to great mountains like Elbert and Massive. About 2:10 into the race, Anton Krupicka passed me coming down the mountain which is about where I expected to come across the race leaders.

I was never so glad to reach the summit at Mosquito Pass, but the bad part was that it meant I needed to turn-around and start running downhill. In some ways, even though it was hard work, hiking uphill seemed easier than running downhill. And so I ran. I passed quite a few runners on the way down... which I think I can attribute to acclimatizing and being conservative on my uphill pace.

I made good progress towards my 5-hour goal time all day long, but I never was completely on track for it. I knew it was going to be close and that really kept me going. Sometimes when I really didn’t want to pick up the pace, I thought to myself, “What if I miss sub-5 by just a few seconds... let's git ‘er dun.”

The weather was great for me, but I don’t think I can say that for everyone. Until noon, it was mostly sunny and cool (50s). It was pretty windy up near Mosquito Pass, but we weren’t there long enough to get too cold. By 12:30pm, dark clouds had formed and thunder could be heard. By the time I was at mile 24, the thunder seemed quite threatening and I was glad I was finishing soon. I looked back towards Mosquito Pass, knowing that there were quite a few runners still high on the mountain... and it looked like it was getting quite a downpour. That’s not good at all. Rain at altitude can be very cold and quickly cause hypothermia, and most runners don’t carry much extra clothing. I hope all the runners up there were ok. For me, the rain didn’t start falling until a few minutes after I finished.

Since the last six miles were mostly downhill, I was hoping to gain some time back and still finish sub-5. But by this point in the race, my limited number of long training runs was starting to affect me. In the last two miles, my sides and calves were cramping up so much that it was all I could do to keep running, even though it was downhill. Fortunately, there was a large amount of space between me and the runners behind me, but unfortunately two of them still managed to catch me in the last half mile of the race. I absolutely hate it when that happens at that point in a race. But there was nothing else I could do. I had maxxed myself out and couldn’t run one step faster if my life depended on it.

As these two runners slowly separated themselves from me towards the finish, I could see my chance at a sub-5 finish running off with them... but actually, neither of them made sub-5 either but they were a tad closer. And so my finishing time ended up being 5:02:52. Even though I slightly missed my goal time, I am completely satisfied with my effort. As I think back over my race, I can’t think of anything I could have done differently all day long to gain any more time. I honestly left it all on the course and was completely spent at the end... a very satisfying feeling.

So I finished 41st overall out of ~300 marathoners (from what I hear... I haven’t seen the final results posted yet... there was no chip timing). But I ended up 10th in my age-group (M 40-49)... which is not too surprising. There’s a bunch of us old farts in our 40s that focus on the marathon distance so the M40 AG is very competitive. Since we don’t have as much snap in our legs anymore, we go for races where we can outlast some of the youngsters.

So I guess this means I finished in the top 15-20% of the racers overall. I was actually hoping to be in the top 10% (top 25 or 30 overall), but you never know what the field is going to be like. Even though I missed my goal by ~3 minutes, that was pretty close. I talked to very, very few runners who made their goals for the day... even those that had run this race before. Many of them missed their targets by 15, 20, 30 minutes, or even more. This course is just that brutal and relentless.

Even though I wanted to run sub-5, I didn’t obsess about this goal. Basically, all bets are off in a race like this. You just go out there, make a strong effort, hope for the best, and be satisfied with the results. You never really conquer this kind of course, you merely cover it.

And I was determined to have fun out there. At most of the aid stations, I jokingly asked, “So is this halfway?” ...even on the back half of the course. :-) As were going up the steep climb to Mosquito Pass, I mentioned to some runners near me, “You know, it’s just rude when these people come down the mountain towards us with smiles on their faces....” At one aid station, they pointed us toward the route that went uphill, and I replied, “But I don’t wanna to go that way... I wanna go that way,” which was downhill. :-) When the course flattened out and runners near me stopped hiking and picked up the pace, I mentioned, “Now don’t be doing that, ‘cause now I gotta run.” :-)

So overall it was a very satisfying day. I can still walk. I didn’t end up in the hospital. Mary Ann didn’t have to execute my will, publish my obituary, or collect my life insurance (...yet). Sorry for such a lengthy recap... just be thankful I’ll stop at this point. It really was five amazing hours of quad-busting, lung-seering fun. Thanks for reading.

Riding Around the Bear

2009-06-13T00:00:00.000-07:00

Well, Saturday was the big bike ride for which I’ve been training... biggest bike ride of my life. Realize that I haven't done a lot of cycling... I've only done one bike century before, and that was three years ago. I'm more of an "occasional cyclist." But in March, I began struggling with plantar fasciitis (inflammation of the arch of my foot) that limited my running, so I started biking a good bit again. I rode some big climbs I've always wanted to do (such as Palomar Mountain and Mount Baldy Road). After biking up Onyx Summit for the first time, I thought, why don't I attempt a biggie... the Ride Around the Bear. I always like a challenge. :-)

The Ride Around the Bear is one of the tougher bike centuries... 100 miles through the San Bernardino mountains, with over 9000' of climbing involved. The last climb is the toughest... topping out on Onyx Summit (8,443'), the highest paved road in SoCal.

I confess I was pretty intimidated by this ride. The event website states that this century was ranked one of the 10 most difficult centuries by Cyclist magazine and then warns in all-cap letters, "THIS IS NOT FOR BEGINNERS." Three years ago, I wanted to do this century but then backed out because I didn’t think I could make it up all the mountain climbs. But I wasn’t going to let that happen this year. The challenge motivated me to get my tail out the door and on my bike. Weekly rides up Hwy 38 became a regular staple of my main training.

In years past, sometimes the weather has been scorching hot for this ride... like in the 90s. Fortunately, we were blessed with thick "June gloom" (the SoCal term for the overcast cloud cover typical of this time of year). The low-hanging stratus clouds made for a moist start, and ten miles into the ride, it actually was raining in Highland at the start of the first big climb up Hwy 330... "It never rains in California..." ha!

On the rolling hills in the opening ten miles, I was taking it easy and got passed by a dude on a recumbent bike. I was going to draft off of him on the downhills, but I couldn't keep up with him without overdoing it. I thought, Yikes, I’m even more undertrained than I thought if I can't tail recumbent guy. But I passed him a little ways into the first climb and he told me he knew I’d pass him on the uphills. Nice guy. I hope it went well for him. I felt a little better for what lay ahead.

I've never biked up Hwy 330 before... and for good reason. It's a rather narrow two- and four-lane highway winding into the mountains with little to no shoulder. It was a little unnerving having traffic so close, but there's comfort in numbers since 400 of us would be biking up the road that day... spread apart with large gaps but all single file. And I will say, I liked the clockwise direction of the route we took. I'd much rather climb slowly up Hwy 330 and come flying down Hwy 38 than vice versa. There's more wiggle room on 38 for a fast descent when you get hit by an unexpected crosswind.

The climb up 330 was a long slow climb. We gained nearly 5000' elevation between miles 12 to 30. It was steeper than I expected, but I maintained a conservative pace and used my gears. I knew if I spiked my heart rate, I'd be toast for the day. The low-hanging clouds made for thick fog as we ascended. I was glad I was wearing my new fluorescent-yellow bike jersey... thanks, Lauren, for the discount!

I was making steady but gradual progress up the relentless slope of Hwy 330, when another disheartening moment occurred. I got passed by a tandem bike, yes, a tandem bike, that went cruising past me and quickly out of sight. I thought, Sheesh, I really must not be doing well. But I found out afterwards that tandem couple actually finished first last year... yes, they finished faster than every cyclist out there on any kind of bike. I was very, very impressed. They finished in 5th and 6th places on Saturday in 5:29. Wowser. I don't know if there is such a thing as competitive tandem bike races, but if there is, I'd bet the farm on that couple.

On the climb through the thick fog, another cyclist mentioned that there was a low ceiling on these clouds and we would probably come out of them about 5000'. I must admit, I doubted that was possible, but I didn't say anything and just hoped he was right. Sure 'nuf, when we got to Running Springs, we had climbed right out of the clouds into bright blue skies. It was really amazing as the skies just opened up and we were bathed in endless sunshine.

We then cruised along on the rolling hills of Hwy 18 from Running Springs, through Arrowbear, and on towards Big Bear. We passed Snow Summit Ski Resort where SAG stop #2 was located, but I skipped this one since I had plenty of liquids and food.

We climbed up to Lakeview Point (elev. 7,112') which is the highpoint on "Rim of the World Highway" (Hwy 18). As the climb tops out, you're suddenly greeted with some of the most amazing views of Big Bear Lake far in the distance... absolutely stunning vistas of unending mountains and forests. Way in the distance to the east, I spotted Sugarloaf Mountain and thought, We've gotta bike around that... even though it's still miles away. A swift steep descent down Hwy 18 (fortunately unaccompanied by vehicles) brought us to Big Bear Dam, the western end of Big Bear Lake.

At the dam, we took Hwy 38 around the northshore of the lake. Highway 38 would now serve as our route for the rest of the day, the last 60 miles. Biking along the lake brought back lots of memories. This was the first time I had been on parts of this pavement since I ran here in the Big Bear Marathon last September. Fortunately, I was logging these miles a whole lot faster by bike on Saturday. Later, I also cruised past dozens of tents in Serrano Campground where my son and I had camped just four weeks ago. Good memories.

I made a quick stop at SAG #3 at Dana Point. I woofed down some PB&J sandwiches and refilled on Gatorade, and then I was off again. But within a mile, I had my first mechanical issue. For some reason, my chain jumped off the big chain ring. But it was a quick fix and I was back on the road.

It was nice to tick off some quicker miles on the flatter roads along the northshore of the lake. My legs enjoyed the change of pace. The weather was absolutely perfect... highs in the low 60s and gorgeous sunny skies. Big Bear is famous as being one of the sunniest spots in the U.S., and it lived up to its reputation on Saturday.

Highway 38 turns right at the far eastern end of the lake, and I thought, And the climb begins.... From the turn, it's roughly 9 miles of distance and 1700' of climbing on up to Onyx Summit, the highlight (and highpoint) of this bike century. Fortunately, the grades are not too terribly steep, but the air gets thin and the climb seems relentless at this point.

I was pleasantly surprised to find my legs were not completely shot. I can't say I was flying up the road, but I was passing rocks and trees like they were standing still. I was counting down the white mile markers carefully because I knew Onyx Summit was precisely at MM 39.36. The 8,000' elevation sign was encouraging to see, and then a short bit later I grinned in huge relief as the summit sign came into view.... I knew I had done it. Memories of Heartbreak Hill in Boston popped unexpectedly in my head... the big obstacle was conquered and the downhills were ahead.

The Orange County Wheelmen (the group who run this great event) strategically positioned SAG stop #4 at the summit. It was well stocked with carbs galore and liquids to spare. I chowed down on some watermelon, and it never tasted so sweet. I must admit I took a bit too much time eating and savoring the moment at this stop, but the hard work was done. Other than one brief climb before Barton Flats, all that was left was forty miles of downhill back to Redlands. I just hoped my back wouldn't seize up on the stiff descent (and it didn't).

I saddled up, pointed my bike downhill, and was quickly hitting 30+ mph with little effort. Within a mile though, I pulled off to don my arm warmers. The wind was rather chilly at these speeds at high elevation.

Since this side of the summit was my main training for this century, I knew this stretch of highway very well... every mile marker, all the sights, and every curve. This really helped as I came upon the last evil climb before Barton Flats. It's a rather steep grade about a mile in length... just pure evil at that point. That would have been a rude awakening and very discouraging if I hadn’t been up it so many times already in training. So I geared down and cranked on up the hill.

Soon I was cruising through the roller-coaster hills and curves towards Angelus Oaks. I waved to the good people at SAG stop #5 but didn't stop. The last long steep descent lay ahead of me for the next 11 miles.

At Angelus Oaks, another cyclist came up on me. We decided to work together for the descent. But geez, I'm a pathetic descender. I don't know if I just have poor form or I'm too scrawny or if I just don't have the nerves of steel it takes to fly down a winding mountain road. I dunno. But in no time, the other cyclist picked up the draft of another cyclist and they were both gone. So I was left to careen down the mountain solo... just not as fast as they did. Now that I think about it, this whole century was pretty much a solo effort on my part. I doubt I biked more than five total miles of this entire thing in the slipstream of another cyclist. The riders were just too spread out and doing too many different speeds.

We cruised on through Mentone and on into Redlands… left on University and there was Sylvan Park, my car, and the finish line. Came rolling in just a few seconds before 1:00pm. Finished in 7:07 which surprised me. Before starting, I really didn't know what kind of time to expect, not even a ballpark figure... I was pretty much going to be satisfied just to finish. But I think the cool weather really helped, and I definitely finished sooner than I expected. According to my bike computer, my actual cycling time was 6:49 (the timer doesn't run when the wheels aren't turning)... so yeah, I guess I did eat and stretch a bit too long at my three SAG stops. I now see that I finished 95th out of 366 finishers (and 400 registered starters). I'm certainly no elite cyclist, but this occasional cyclist is satisfied with that time and place.

Thanks for reading, and my apologies for such a long recap. This was a completely new kind of thing for me so it's hard to describe. Reducing this seven-hour bike ride to an extended blog post doesn't really capture the experience. But I type all this out so at least I won't forget some of the memories. It really was a blast.

Backpacking the Grand Canyon

2008-10-26T20:01:00.000-07:00

On virtually everyone's list of Seven Wonders stands the Grand Canyon. It's far more than a place just to view from the rim. Whether by plane, helicopter, raft, mule or foot, to truly experience the enormity and beauty of the place, one must descend down into it... and that's just what my hiking buddy Dan and I did this week... 45 miles in 3 days.

Preparations for the trip:

• Securing permits. We faxed in our permit request four months in advance on June 1. That day, the Grand Canyon backcountry office received 100+ walk-up requests and 800+ faxed in requests for the month of October. We listed 16 different choices for dates and campgrounds for our trek. We got our 7th option and it turned out to be perfect for us.

• Decrease the weight and increase the fun. This time, I got my pack down to 35 lbs including food and water… down 10+ lbs since my last backpacking trip. Dan and I shared some items such as a water filter and a stove. No need for a pocketknife or headlamp... a simple razor blade and LED are sufficient.

• Food. My daily rations consisted of nutri-grain bars, fig newtons, PB & crackers, beef jerky, powdered Gatorade, oranges, and a freeze-dried meal. Good sustenance.

• Water. Unfortunately, since we were hiking after October 15, drinking water was shut off for the winter at most of the main stopping points on the trails, even Cottonwood Campground. So we filtered water from the creeks along the way and had to carry several liters in a Camelbak bladder.

• Weather. We picked October because of its "Goldilocks" weather… not too hot and not too cold. We had lows in the upper 30s and highs in the lower 70s. We mostly had 50s and 60s during the day. Perfect hiking weather… no chills and no sweat. We had clear skies without a slight chance of storms or rain… also perfect for star-gazing at night. The only downside of hiking in October is the limited daylight hours… only eleven hours of sunlight a day since sunrise was supposedly ~6:45am and sunset ~5:45pm... although deep in the canyon we saw far less of ELSO (= the evil life-sucking orb) than that.

Itinerary:

• Tues, Oct 21: Drive 450 miles to the south rim of the Grand Canyon. Camp in Mather campground.

• Wed, Oct 22: Hike 14 miles… 7 miles down the S Kaibab trail from the TH (7,260’), cross the river (2,480’) on the Black Bridge, and 7 miles up the N Kaibab trail to Cottonwood campground (4,080’). We also took a short side trip below our campground to go see Ribbon Falls.

• Thurs, Oct 23: Hike 21 miles… 7 miles up the N Kaibab trail to the N Rim (8,240’), then 7 miles back down to Cottonwood campground (4,080’), and then 7 miles further down the N Kaibab trail to Bright Angel campground (2,480’) near the Colorado River.

• Fri, Oct 24: Hike 10 miles up the Bright Angel trail from the Bright Angel campground (2,480’) to the TH (6,860’) on the S Rim. Camp at Mather campground.

• Sat, Oct 25: Drive 450 miles home.

This three-day hiking itinerary divided out perfectly. None of the days were disproportionately hard or easy. The first leg of our trek not only got us across the river but also partially up towards the N Rim. The second day was the longest, but only 7 miles were uphill and at the start of the day when our legs would be the freshest. Also, we stashed our full packs at the campground and only took water, food, and emergency essentials for the 14 miles up to the N Rim and back. The last day was the shortest, but it involved the most elevation gain with a full pack.

Highlights:

• Seeing the canyon gradually light up as we descended down the S Kaibab trail. We had started while the stars were still out and it was a while before we saw the first rays of sunlight on the higher points of the canyon.

• Sleeping under star-filled skies at night with the Milky Way stretched from horizon to horizon.

• Coming across deer at Phantom Ranch, Cottonwood campground, the N Kaibab trail, the Bright Angel trail, and Indian Gardens.

• Having a Bighorn Sheep come crashing out of Bright Angel creek as I rounded a bend. The big ram stood in the trail and stared at me and then quickly darted up the steep cliffs above. We saw four more high on the Bright Angel trail the next day.

• The quiet serenity of the North Kaibab trail. I’ve hiked a lot of trails, but it’s hard to top this one. The trail really has three distinct sections to it. The first few miles go through a narrow canyon that receives maybe an hour or two of sunlight each day. The next stretch opens up into a wider valley which includes Ribbon Falls and Cottonwood Campground. The upper five miles are a breathtaking route that edges its way along the steep red cliffs of Roaring Springs Canyon.

The vegetation gradually changes from desert flora to the tall pines and deciduous trees of the North Rim. Since the North Rim is shut down after October 15, we came across few hikers on this stretch. The quietness allowed us to absorb the gentle sounds of distant creeks and cheerful birds. By far, the upper stretches of the North Kaibab trail are some of the greatest parts of this grand park. But since the South Rim is more accessible than its northern counterpart, most people never experience the magnificence of the North Rim.

The quiet serenity of the N Kaibab trail made the upper portions of the Bright Angel trail to the S Rim to be disappointing. After backpacking for three days on our own, it just wasn’t the same to come up a trail crowded with park visitors unprepared for any sort of hiking. The S Rim appeared more like Disneyland… in fact, on the trail, I came across someone eating a chocolate-dipped, rice-crispy treat shaped like Mickey Mouse, and I thought, how appropriate. Near the top of the trail, my friend Dan ended up trapped behind a bus load of tourists dressed in business attire. Ok, hopefully I didn't become too much of a backpacking snob... but it's somewhat culture shock to finish off three days in the wilderness in the most commercialized area of the park.

• The fall colors of the North Rim. Having grown up in Tennessee, I didn’t anticipate a full palette of fall colors on the trees of the North Rim. But we came across reds, oranges, and yellows mixed in with the green of the pines, and even the white bark of an aspen grove.

• Water. It’s easy to think of the Grand Canyon as only being dry, hot, and desolate, but there’s an amazing amount of water in this place… even beyond the swift currents of the Colorado River. Bright Angel creek is a vibrant stream that descends for miles down the north side of the canyon. Roaring Springs is a gushing flow of
water that comes bursting directly out of a canyon wall. From a distance, Ribbon Falls seems like a minor trickle, but on closer examination, it’s a fascinating stream flowing over a hollowed-out, red-rock cliff. At the base, calcium carbonate has built up to form a raised, moss-covered basin to catch the water… essentially a hollowed-out stalagmite without a cave. In other places, it was easy to detect the presence of water by the lush, verdant vegetation that thrives in large places like Indian Gardens or tiny trickles between the rocks.

• Rock formations... a natural arch high above the S Kaibab trail… a tall thin spire on the N Kaibab trail... the precipitous cliffs of Roaring Springs canyon… the angled buttes that dot the horizon… the changing colors of the rock… white near the rims, dark red below the rim, pink sandstone further down, and the dark browns and blacks closer to the river.

• Tunnels. In a rugged environment like the Grand Canyon, water didn’t always carve the canyons in a way that was conducive for building trails. Each of our three trails eventually made its way through a man-made tunnel. The southern entrance to the Black Bridge crossing the Colorado River was through a long tunnel. When we got there, a mule train was coming through. High on the N Kaibab trail is the Supai Tunnel which serves as a shady resting spot three miles from the top. Two short tunnels are found near the top of the Bright Angel trail.

• Bridges. Obviously, there’s no bridge spanning the entire canyon, but the number of bridges within the canyon is surprising. Two major bridges cross the Colorado River (the Black Bridge to the east and the Silver Bridge to the west). The N Kaibab trail alone crosses a half dozen bridges.

Of course, words alone can’t depict what our experience in the Grand Canyon was like. Here’s a small fraction of the pictures I took.

Big Bear was a bear

2008-09-07T00:00:00.000-07:00

Big Bear is a mountain lake (elev. 6,750') in the San Bernardino mountains of Southern California. It's a resort area for winter activities such as alpine skiing and summer activities such as boating, fishing, and hiking. For runners, it's famous as being the hometown of Olympic marathoner Ryan Hall.

This is the inaugural running of the Big Bear Marathon. For a first-time race (actually 3 running races and a bike tour all on the same day) in a small town, it seems to have gone pretty smoothly (at least from my meager perspective). Here's the article in the local newspaper about the race.

Friday:
• Drove up to Big Bear.
• Heard Mickey Hall (Ryan's dad) speak at the expo. He's a well-respected pillar of the community... the cross-country and track coach at Big Bear High School. He talked about his experiences doing an Ironman triathlon and how he overcame some serious setbacks in that event (such as breaking his right-pedal clip at the start of the 112-mile bike leg).
• Ate spaghetti at a local Italian restaurant.
• Drove the marathon course to see it for myself... dang, this is gonna be tough... it's like a freakin' roller coaster... much hillier around the lake than I remembered it from a couple of years ago when I was up here.
• Camped on the south shore of the lake… found a great camping site (Yellow Post #26)... no one else around... didn't even use my tent... just slept in my sleeping bag on a ground cloth under the stars. Gorgeous night. Slept like a log.

Saturday:
• Caught the shuttle bus to the starting line in Big Bear Village.
• Temps around 50s... very chilly as I waited, but absolutely perfect weather for running a marathon.
• Start of race was delayed by 15 minutes as a few roads were still being cleared.
• Supposedly ~300+ of us were running the full marathon. (There was also a half and 5K that started later).

Story of my race...

I was running this marathon blind. I had no idea what kind of pace per mile I should be running since it involved hills at altitude. I was going to have to run this one purely on feel, and not worry about what my watch said. I also knew that all my acclimatization to high altitude from Colorado at the beginning of August had long worn off before the start of Big Bear.

Opening mile. Running with four guys with four others that are ahead of us a ways. The race director, Josh, who is a friend of mine, spotted me at a street corner and cheered me on.

We go up and down on the hills of Hwy 18 along the south shore of Big Bear Lake. I'm taking it easy on both the uphills (to not spike my heart rate) and the downhills (to not destroy my quads). This is one gorgeous place to run a marathon... and it's nice that the most scenic miles were in the opening half before we marathoners get tunnel vision.

We cross the dam and we've all spread out and I won't see many more marathoners until the closing miles.
I'm out there by myself. I think I'm in 7th or 8th place overall, but I'm not for sure. I'm so separated from those running ahead of and behind me that I don't even hear aid stations cheering on anyone other than me.

The aid stations have different themes. Around mile 7, I come through the tiny community of Fawnskin on the north shore. The theme at their aid station is Christmas. They have Christmas decorations and festive music playing and I'm greeted by Santa Claus. Nice touch.

I'm amazed by the number of local people who are out on the road to cheer on us runners.
Seems like everyone has come out to see the runners. Great community support. This is the community that had a huge campaign, "Move a million miles for Ryan (Hall)" (by running, walking, and biking). There are signs saying, "Run Ryan Run" still all over town.

At mile 12, Ryan Hall's dad has his High School Cross Country team manning the aid station. He offers me a gel pack, I politely mention, "That's ok, Mr. Hall." It was kinda cool being greated by the dad of an Olympian at an aid station.

The thin air at 6,750' doesn't seem to be affecting me too much. My legs are wanting to run faster, but I don't think I could keep my HR and breathing in check if I went any faster. I hope I'm not overdoing it, but so far so good.

I know the first half of the race is much easier than the second half so I had planned for a slight positive split. I come through halfway faster than I anticipated (1:33:57), but so far so good. I know I'm gonna have to back off the pace on the long four-mile climb going up to mile 20.

Around mile 14, we start running through the last of the half marathoners. The half marathon course followed most of the second half of the full marathon course. By the time we get to the finish line, us marathoners are outnumbered 20:1 in the midst of the half marathoners (at least at that point in the races).

Around mile 15, I can start to feel my old nemesis Mr. Sidestich starting to make his presence known. I haven't felt one of these in a long, long time. I back off the pace some and hope it won't be a problem.

We're now going uphill towards the ski resorts. I'm thinking: "Note to self: Any time a marathon course runs directly by two ski resorts that's not a good thing… they build those things high in the mountains for a reason." Exhausted self takes note.

Even though I had slowed considerably on the long uphill in thin air, around mile 19 I have to take a walking break.
This was really, really disappointing to me. I wanted to run every step of this marathon, even if it was a slow pace on the grueling uphills. But I had no choice. I was now battling side cramps on both sides (I'm not sure I've ever felt that before) and my HR was sky high (in more ways than one).

In miles 19 and 20, I end up getting passed by two marathoners. One was the eventual women's winner. She's from Idyllwild (elev. 5300') so she's more acclimated to thin air than I am... but she also paced herself much better than I did to conquer this course. She ran a great race.

At mile 20, we finally reach the highest point on the course at the base of one of the ski resorts. There's lots of downhill ahead, but my side stiches hurt so bad I can't take advantage of those downhills. I even have to walk and stretch out the cramps on a few downhills of all things.

I'm struggling just to hang on in those closing miles. Around mile 22, I still manage to pass a marathoner who's been ahead of me since the opening couple of miles. So in the closing miles, I was passed by four marathoners and I passed one. Losing 3 spots was not the way I wanted to finish this race.

Finally, I hit the last stretch down Hwy 18 and run up to Big Bear Village and the finish line in 3:21:31... yep, a 14:37 positive split (1:33:57/1:48:34)... way bigger than I wanted. Never been more glad to finish a marathon in my life. It's been a long time since I cramped up that bad and felt such pain in a race. Those last 7 miles were agonizing. It would have been a great 30K race (18.6 miles)... but there was still 7.6 miles to go at that point!

Here's my splits (based on my watch):
..........|...........|.......|.....Avg
Mile.....|..Overall.|..Mile.|.Overall
Marker.|....Time.|.Split.|....Pace
-------+---------+-------+--------
1...........7:29....7:29......7:29
2..........14:20....6:51......7:10
3..........21:29....7:09......7:10
4..........28:44....7:15......7:11
5..........35:42....6:58......7:08
6..........43:07....7:25......7:11
7..........50:29....7:22......7:13
8..........57:24....6:55......7:10
9........1:04:18....6:54......7:09
10.......1:11:42....7:24......7:10
11.......1:18:47....7:05......7:10
12.......1:25:53....7:06......7:09
13.......1:33:20....7:27......7:11
14.......1:40:16....6:56......7:10
15.......1:47:27....7:11......7:10
16.......1:54:53....7:26......7:11
17.......2:02:30....7:37......7:12
18.......2:10:58....8:28......7:19
19.......2:19:26....8:28......7:20
20.......2:29:19....9:53......7:28
21.......2:38:17....8:58......7:32
22.......2:47:15....8:58......7:36
23.......2:55:09....7:54......7:37
24.......3:03:29....8:20......7:39
25.......3:12:37....9:08......7:42
26.2.....3:21:31....7:32pace..7:42

Notes about my splits:
• Mile marker #8 was way too early which made mile 8 too short and mile 9 too long. So I divided miles 8 and 9 equally.
• Mile marker #18 was way too late which made mile 18 too long and mile 19 too short. So I divided miles 18 and 19 equally.
• I missed the mile marker at mile 21 so I divided miles 21 and 22 equally.
• I ran what felt like a very even-paced effort for the opening 15 miles. The differences in splits has to do with uphills and downhills.
• Miles 17, 18, 19, and 20 were almost all uphill.
• Miles 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, and finish were a grueling struggle, even though much of those were downhill.

Aftermath:
I didn't publicize any goal of mine ahead of time because I honestly wasn't sure how my body would respond to this tough course in thin air. My goal was sub-3:20. I thought that would be a challenging goal. I had run 3:27 at the Crater Lake Marathon a couple of years ago which had a similar altitude (but with more downhill miles). I thought if I was having a really good day, I might get as low as 3:15. My consolation goal would be 3:29.

Since the race offered a good bit of prize money, some fast runners from Los Angeles showed up. I had to leave before they posted the full marathon results but I did see that the top 2 times were 2:41 and 2:48 (but those two guys normally run marathons in the low 2:30s). 2:40s is just crazy fast on this course. I ended up finishing 10th overall.

I had to rush off from Big Bear without waiting around for results or the awards ceremony (even though I now see that I finished 3rd in my age-group, M40-44). I drove back to Riverside and got there just in time for my son's basketball game (which they won). And I returned home to a very happy wife... not because of my marathon, but because she had finally received word through the mail that she passed her comps... the very last hurdle for her masters. I was very, very glad to hear that.

Big Bear was a tough marathon in one of the most beautiful places of Southern California. I'm so happy I ran this one... my first marathon in 17 months (since my debacle in Boston '07). I just wished I had paced myself a little better on that opening half so I wouldn't cramp up so bad on the last half. Oh well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Colorado Trip 2008

2008-08-12T12:00:00.000-07:00

Well, we managed to squeeze in a 10-day trip to Colorado to visit Mary Ann's parents in the midst of our busy work schedules. Highlights of the trip...

Fri, Aug 1 - Drove 1,000 miles to Fraser, Colorado. The drive was smooth and uneventful (no snafus with traffic, accidents, road construction, weather, deer, moose, elk, avalanches, you know... the usual stuff in Colorado). Got in at 12:45am. Long drive. We were tired, but we got it behind us.

Sat, Aug 2 - Relaxed, unpacked, and took it easy. I ran 10.8 miles at 9,500' on the dirt roads up above the house towards the Devils Thumb TH (out and back, twice). Running at that altitude is not easy, but the air is so clean, the temps cool, and the scenery so beautiful.

Sun, Aug 3 - I got up early before church and ran 20.8 miles on the Fraser to Granby Trail (dirt trail; out and back, twice). Even though it had few hills, that was one tough long run in thin air (8,400'). It was a bucolic run through the open country of Fraser Valley. At one point (actually four times on my double out-and-back run), the trail goes through a cow pasture and I found myself running among a herd of Black Angus cattle (with no fence separating us). A while later, I saw a big hot air balloon take off. I was out there long enough to see four freight trains lumber on down the tracks. Great run. Felt good.

That afternoon after church, all the ladies went up to see a play in Grand Lake.

Mon, Aug 4 - I got up early and ran 10.8 miles on the dirt roads above the house again. Then I had to get myself over to the Denver airport to fly home to teach at CBU that night.

The rest of the family took a hike up to Columbine Lake. That is one gorgeous mountain lake. I wish I could have been there. It sounded like they had plenty of fun there.

Tues, Aug 5 - I got up early and ran 10 miles (with 4x1mile repeats) at the gym in Riverside as soon as the doors opened (4:30am). I had to do that early to have time to catch my flight back to Denver. After running some errands in Denver, I drove back to Fraser Valley. I was disappointed with my early morning run (because the gym was too hot) so I decided to run some more miles on the Fraser River Trail, a paved bike trail which runs south (uphill) from Fraser to Winter Park Ski Resort. I pushed the pace pretty well for the 5.2 miles up to the base and then the 5.2 miles back down to Fraser. The run served as a good benchmark for my pacing since there were mile markers painted on the trail. That is one gorgeous route to run.

While I was gone, Mary Ann and the kids enjoyed a fun-filled day making crafts out at the YMCA Snow Mountain Ranch. They had a big time making bracelets, necklaces, and pottery.

Wed, Aug 6 - I got up early again and ran 10.8 "easy" miles on the dirt roads above the house again. I tried to keep the pace easy since I had a race coming up on Saturday, but it's almost impossible to run an easy run at 9,500'. But at least I didn't spike my heart rate on the uphills this time.

We spent the rest of the day over at the Winter Park Ski Resort. We were racing down the alpine slide, climbing the rock wall, jumping on the bungee-trampoline, and playing miniature golf. That was seven hours of fun!

Unfortunately though, on the way home going up County Road 8, we came around a blind corner and came face to face with an ATV barrelling downhill on the wrong side of the road (cutting the corner while assuming that no other vehicles were on the road). We both slammed on the brakes but still hit. Fortunately, no one was hurt or thrown from the ATV. But still the ATV dented in the passenger-side bumper of my car. Now I have the joy of getting that fixed and settling matters with insurance.

Thurs, Aug 7 - I got up early again and ran another 10.8 "easy" miles on the dirt roads above the house. Two more days before my half marathon in Georgetown.

I then took the kids to Denver to the Rockies-Nationals baseball game at Coors Field (1:05pm start). Cheap tickets were easy to find on the street for this afternoon weekday game. We sat up in the upper deck above first base on row 20. That's a special row because the seats on that row are all purple (compared to all the other seats in the stadium which are dark green). But that row is distinctly purple because it's the "mile-high" row which officially marks 5,280' above sea-level in the mile-high city. Unfortunately, the Rockies (the current reigning NL champs) lost 6-3. They did score 3 runs in the last 2 innings to make it exciting but couldn't pull ahead.

Since Wednesday's game had been rained out, 20 minutes after the first game we got to watch a double-header make-up game. For this second game, over half the fans left leaving the 40,000-seat stadium noticeably empty. There couldn't have been more than 5,000 fans in the entire ballpark. Even in the upper deck, we could clearly hear all the sounds of the game... every catch of the ball, not just the pop of the fastball pitches.

After 3 or 4 innings, we went down to the lower level and asked an usher if we could sit in the lower seats in the later innings. She said, "Just come on in right now. It's a make-up game and there's plenty of empty seats." So we went in and sat about 20 rows from 3rd base. Then after a half inning we moved to some empty seats on row 5. Then after another half inning, we sat on the front row closest to third base right next to the visitors dugout. I told the kids, "Soak this up, kids, I can't afford these kinds of tickets!"

We were so close to the game that we could see every minute detail... even shoe laces and blades of grass. At the end of one inning, the Rockies third-base coach walked over and handed my son a game ball. He was thrilled. So we spent the second half of the game watching from some of the best seats in the house. Unfortunately, the Rockies lost the double-header by the same score (6-3). But we did get to see Matt Holiday hit a massive home-run, and the kids thoroughly enjoyed the close-up experience.

Fri, Aug 8 - I didn't run because I wanted to rest my legs for the race the next day. Instead, I got up early to go bag a 14er. My son was supposed to go with me, but he way overslept. Of course, that was partially my fault after 6 hours of baseball the day before.

We were planning to go up Quandary Peak (14,265') just south of Breckenridge. It's one of the easiest of Colorado's fifty-four 14ers. It's a pretty simple 2.7-mile class-1 hike to the top (although it goes up 3,000' of elevation).

Since I ended up doing this alone, I thought why not attempt an easy 14er with less of a drive to a trailhead. So I pulled off I-70 at exit 221 to attempt the Grays-Torreys double (8 miles rt hike). I started up the 3.5-mile dirt road to the TH. I wondered why there were quite a few cars parked down below, three miles from the TH. I went around the first bend of the dirt road and soon discovered why. This was the gnarliest dirt road I had ever laid eyes on. It went steeply uphill... and I'm not exaggerating when I say it was probably a 20% grade! Not only was it steep, but it had a deep gully that ran diagonally across it. I quickly realized that my Toyota Highlander was not beefy enough to keep from getting stuck. So I turned around and headed to the Quandary Peak TH 35 miles away.

The most difficult thing about hiking Quandary Peak is sorting out the different possible trailheads at the beginning of the hike. According to Gerry Roach's Fourteener book, the main trail is a mile up the turnoff. But actually, that's just a logging road and the main trail is well marked much closer to Hwy 9. Since I didn't know that, I followed Roach's TH (actually a logging road) and started up the trail. Soon I came to a junction and realized only now was I hiking on the main trail. At this point I tried to make some mental notes of the surroundings so I could find my way back to my car afterward.

All the trails had converged into a single line before I got to treeline (~12,000'). I got somewhat of a late start up the trail (roughly 9:00am) but I still had plenty of time to get up and down without the threat of afternoon thunderstorms.

I headed up the trail at what felt like a very slow walk. The trail was steep, but I also wanted to be careful not to spike my HR or wear out my legs before my race the next day. I just wanted a nice little walk to the top of another 14er (my 8th in Colorado).

As I was heading up the East Ridge trail (a very simple, straightforward route which doesn't even have any true switchbacks). There were some low hanging clouds which blew across the summit, but nothing threatening. After only a couple hours on the trail, I was on top. The clouds reduced visibility down to only 300'-500'. I couldn't even see across the valley to the south to Mts. Democrat, Lincoln, and Bross (my first 14ers back in 2003). But still it felt good to be on top.

I gave Mary Ann a call to let her know how it went. I took a few pictures. I talked with a few of the dozen or so people on the top. There was somewhat of a somber mood on top though because the day before the body of an experienced hiker had been found on the south side of the mountain. He had come up a different route and was climbing on some rocks off the trail when he fell. RIP.

I headed down the trail and took some pictures of some of the pikas scurrying around on the rocks and chirping as I passed by.
I wondered if I would find the right trail back to my car. Nope, I didn't. I tried several trails but none of them seemed right. So I emerged from the main trail on the road about a mile below where my car was. Oh well. It still felt good to notch another 14er in my hiking belt (my 8th in Colorado and my 4th for the summer)... although I really wish my son had gone with me. He could have done this one (his 2nd 14er) very easily, and I would have enjoyed his company.

Sat, Aug 10 - This was the day of my big race, the Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon. This was going to serve as a big test towards my fitness for the Big Bear Marathon on Sept 6 (4 weeks away). I was glad I had a chance to acclimate in Colorado for a good week before attempting this. Even though the p2p course drops 1000' in elevation, it would still be a tough run in thin air (the start in Georgetown is 8500' and the finish in Idaho Springs is 7500').

Since this was also the day that our family would start our return trip to SoCal, the original plan was for all five of us to get up early and leave by 5:30am to drop me off in Georgetown for the start of the race. But early on Saturday morning as I loaded the car, my father-in-law graciously offered to drive me over so Mary Ann and the kids could get an extra couple hours of sleep. This was a very kind gesture on his part for his daughter and grandkids since his son-in-law is wacky enough to get up so early and attempt to run that far in the thin mtn air before driving hundreds of miles towards home.

In Georgetown, I met up with three Colorado friends from the RT marathoning forum. It was great to catch up with Dan, Mike, and Carolyn. We ran a warm-up mile and then lined up for the race. My goal was sub-90 (6:52/mile pace). I thought that would probably be a stretch (despite the downhill course) based on my tough tempo run on the Fraser River Trail on Tuesday. But still I'd give it a shot and try to hang on to that pace. I'd have to be careful not to overdo it and burn myself out on the opening couple of miles which circle Georgetown before heading downhill to Idaho Springs.

I can honestly say I ran a very even paced race on the uphills, downhills, and flats. The slight differences in splits below are mostly due to the fluctuating terrain.

Splits:
Mile 1 - 6:34 - Way faster than I planned, but it felt fine though. Perfect weather... low 60s, cloudy with no direct sunlight
Mile 2 - 6:46 - a bit of uphill; and we hit some stiff headwinds
Mile 3 - 6:42 - getting in the groove, still in those headwinds; ten miles to go; so far so good
Mile 4 - 6:21 - luvin' this downhill
Mile 5 - 6:27 - wow, this pace feels very comfortable
Mile 6 - 6:51 - slowed a bit with some flats and slight uphill near Empire (Exit 232 on I-70)
Half Split - 43:30 - wow, I'm on pace for a 1:27:00 and most of the uphills are behind me!
Mile 7 - 6:36 - feelin' good
Mile 8 - 6:38 - still feelin' good; start reeling people in
Mile 9 - 6:28 - still feelin' good; reeling more people in; sun is starting to come out... glad this will be over soon before it gets too hot!
Mile 10 - 6:27 - wow, if I can run a 20:00 last 5K (6:27 pace), I can dip under 1:26!
Mile 11 - 6:30 - still feelin' great... still reeling people in!
Mile 12 - 6:33 - maybe I can still surge and get in the 1:25's by a few seconds
Finish - 1:26:02, surged and beat the runner in front of me in the last quarter mile; dang, just barely missed 1:25:xx... no wait, my chip time is 1:25:58 (6:34 pace)! Woo hoo! Sub-86!

Ran a neg split by 62 seconds (43:30/42:28)... but granted, part of that was given to me by the course.

Ended up finishing 44th overall (out of 2000+ runners). Not bad for this low-lander from California. Hiking that 14er the day before doesn't seem to have affected me a bit... although I imagine I was the only runner who had stood on a 14er the day before.

I met Mary Ann and kids at the finish. I was pretty excited about my performance. I had exceeded my goal by 4 minutes. They were excited that we still had time to go to McDonalds for breakfast. :-)

And so we hopped in the car and drove 9 hours (600 miles) to St George, Utah after the race... not exactly, the best way to recover from a race, but sometimes that's all the schedule will allow. In the drive afterward, it suddenly dawned on me that with this race I had managed to qualify for the NYC marathon (not that I have plans to run it this year). I sometimes forget that I'm 40 (and have a different required QT) because I refuse to act like it. :-)

We pulled into St. George that night and I ran 5 miles to help my legs recovery. As I was running, I thought some of the sights looked familiar. I suddenly realized I was running on part of the St George Marathon course (where I got my first Boston qualifier 3 years ago). It felt good to swim in the hotel pool with the kids afterward. And we made it back to Riverside the next day.

Another great trip to the mountains of Colorado.

Whitney and Muir

2008-07-31T12:00:00.000-07:00

Being the highest point in the 48-contiguous states, Mt. Whitney, near Lone Pine, CA, is many a hiker's goal. Since I've already done it twice (2003 & 2004), I really didn't have any plans to hike it again. Don't get me wrong, it's a great hike and goes through some beautiful Sierra high country, but there's too many other hikes in the Sierra I haven't had a chance to attempt yet.

But my colleague Tim (a poli-sci prof) asked me last year (2007) to go with him up Whitney since he had never been up there before. He didn't have to twist my arm to get me to agree. He trained well for it on local trails, but unfortunately, in 2007 we failed to get up there on top of Whitney. We secured a permit through the February lottery, but a family funeral out of state ended up being the same day of our permit. Then I got us another permit for the end of August (from a cancellation). We camped in Whitney Portal ready to hike, only to get rained out by incessant storms (the remnants of Hurricane Dean).

So in 2008, I was determined to see Tim get to the top of Whitney. We secured our permit in the Spring. Tim trained throughout the summer. On Tues, July 29th we headed to Lone Pine. We camped in campsite #23 in Whitney Portal (which ironically was the exact same campsite my friend Dan would be camping in just a week later for his Whitney hike). We would start hiking soon after 5:00am on Wed, July 30th.

I had three goals for the day (and in this order of priority):

(1) See Tim make it up and back down Whitney. I still felt bad that we didn't make it up Whitney in 2007 after he prepared so well for it.

Since I wasn't sure how fast Tim wanted to hike, I let him set the pace. However fast he wanted to hike, I'd be happy to follow. Tim and I made good time up past Lone Pine Lake (10,000'), Outpost Camp, Mirror Lake, Trail Camp (12,000'), the 97 switchbacks, and Trail Crest (13,600'). We had a perfect day... temps in the 50s, no wind, and not a cloud in the sky. Our pace slowed some as we got into the thinner air above trail camp, but early in the afternoon we were both on top of Mt. Whitney.

Goal #1 - accomplished.

(2) Climb up Mt. Muir (14,012'). Me and Mt. Muir have some history. It's just a short 300' class 2-3 climb off the side of the main Whitney trail. It should only take about 10-15 minutes to complete, but yet less than 1% of Whitney hikers ever attempt Muir for a double-14er day.

In 2003, I attempted to bag Muir but I felt too unsure of myself when I got above the class-2 scree. Then in 2004, I attempted it again. I tried following a friend (who is a class-5 billy goat) as he quickly hopped up that short climb. But I got too nervous about the exposure on the class-3 part of the climb and stopped.

This time around, I was determined to make it up Mt. Muir. Now I had some good class-3 climbing under my belt since I went up Longs Peak in Colorado last summer. Now I felt more sure of myself on class-3, even with some exposure. Prior to our trip, I also did some online research and plotted out the best route to the top.

As we were heading up towards Whitney, I soon found the well-worn path through the class-2 scree leading up to Mt Muir. (It's actually easy to overlook since the west side of Muir from the Whitney trail looks very similar to the other needles and peaks at that point on the trail.)

After bolting up the scree, there were a couple of cheeky little moves on the class-3 stuff, including a short traverse.
But in a mere 12 minutes, I found myself sitting on top of the summit block. (No, I wasn't comfortable standing on it because the drop off the east side is 1,000'+.) I signed the summit log and sat there enjoying my view and glad to finally exorcise the demons of two prior failed attempts on Muir. I took a few pictures looking west across Sequoia National Park and north towards the needles and Mt. Whitney.

Goal #2 - accomplished.

(3) Fly my kite on Whitney. I've always wanted to fly a kite on a mtn peak. Twice in Yosemite I've attempted this (once on North Dome and once on Half Dome). Even though I tried for hours, neither time was I successful in my attempts to get it in the air. On North Dome, I had no wind at all that morning and on Half Dome the winds were too erratic to keep it airborne.

So I packed my kite in my backpack as Tim and I headed up the trail. Even though the kite collapses down to roughly 1" in diameter, it's still over 3' long and stuck well out of the top of my backpack like a quiver of arrows. I got lots of questions and comments about it as I hiked up the trail. I looked like Big Chief Flying Kite as we ascended the trail.

On top, I assembled the kite and discovered I was missing one of the small sticks. I still tried to get it airborne. I got it up a few times, but it was difficult to control and it quickly spun to the ground.
It's much easier to fly it at the beach with constant, sustained winds in a single direction. I tried for a good while and then realized it just wasn't gonna happen. Oh well. It would have been really cool to fly a kite on the highest point in the 48-contiguous states. I guess I'll have to hike Whitney another day and attempt this again.

Another great time at the Y

2008-07-17T12:00:00.000-07:00

2008 marked the fifth time that our family has camped in Housekeeping Camp in Yosemite for a week. This time around, we had the largest group yet... not just the five of us from our family, but 43 more friends from Riverside (and Texas). Our friends (the DuCasses) who organize the trip managed to secure 12 campsites that were the closest to the Merced River... the most desirable spots in the campground.

Highlights of the trip:

Fri, July 11 - Driving 400 miles and setting up camp.

Sat, July 12 - Rafting on the river. (I got up early in the morning and ran a 10-mile round-trip route to/from Bridal Veil Falls. That is one beautiful trail on which to run.)

Sun, July 13 - Hiking Yosemite Falls. This is a strenuous 3.5-mile climb up 3,000' of elevation to the top of the highest waterfall in North America. Our family (along with 11 others) progressed up the trail. We all ended up spread out on the trail according to our paces. But in a few hours all 16 of us had made it to the top. We all swam in the cold water (but well upstream, nowhere near the edge). Soon storm clouds started forming to the north. We gathered our things and hustled on down the trail. We were drenched with cold rain most of the way down the trail.

Earlier that morning, Lynne and I got up early and ran ~7 miles in Yosemite valley. What was really cool was that we spotted a bobcat over near Yosemite Village. It's back end with on the path with its short stubby tail sticking up in the air. When it poked its head up, it was still holding a mouse that it had just caught for breakfast. Pretty cool. I had never seen a bobcat in Yosemite before.

Mon, July 14 - Rafting on the river again. Another great trip down the Merced, except this time we had to scurry off the river as another thunderstorm approached.

Earlier that morning, I ran my 10-mile route to/from Bridal Veil Falls again. Gotta love that trail.

Tues, July 15 - Hiking in Tuolumne Meadows. Prior to our trip, I had bought my first ice axe and set of crampons. My goal was Mt. Lyell (13,114'), the highest point in Yosemite. The route involved a trek across the Lyell Glacier, a relatively simple glacier to cross that often is used to teach beginners. (It has no life-threatening crevasses or steep slopes.)

The route to Lyell has a long approach. Basically, you hike out 11 miles through a high altitude meadow, before you even leave the trail to begin the 3.5-mile, class-3 climb up to the peak of Lyell.
Most climbers do this as a 2-day hike allow for an early morning climb to the peak. I didn't want to be gone from the family that long so I attempted it as a 29-mile day-hike. I camped the night before (Mon) at Tuolumne Meadows campground to avoid the 90-minute drive to the TH.

I got an early start on the hike, but I didn't realize how many different trails converged in the Tuolumne Meadows area. (I had thought there was simply one trail that went straight out towards Donahue Pass.) I ended up wasting a good bit of time making sure I was on the correct trail. I was enjoying the hike through the meadows, but halfway out I realized I was running out of time to make it up and down Lyell and back to camp at a reasonable hour. (Class-3 climbing goes much slower than hiking, and our family did have to pack up that night to leave the next day.)

So unfortunately, my ice axe and crampons went unused and I decided to not attempt Lyell. Instead, I simply hiked on out to Donahue Pass (11,056') where the John Muir Trail leaves Yosemite National Park on its 212-mile trek to Mt. Whitney. Suffice it to say, I was the only day-hiker out there. Everyone else was on Day 3 or Day 4 of their backpacking trip on the John Muir Trail. (One of these days I'm gonna have to do that.) I thoroughly enjoyed the hike, but I wish I had either had enough time to make it up Lyell or simply run that trail sans backpack as a nice long trail run. Oh well.

Wed, July 16 - Drove home to SoCal. Unfortunately, we were leaving a day earlier than the rest of our friends because Mary Ann had one of her last classes at Cal State San Bernardino. We drove straight from Yosemite to drop her off with paper in hand for her class. But she made it and we had squeezed in a great family trip in the process.

35th place but what a victory!

2008-07-04T18:00:00.000-07:00

I ran the 34th annual Coronado Independence Day 15K (9.3 miles) in San Diego again this year. I also ran it back in 2006 (1:02:24 that day). It's a great race. Here's the course map:

And here's my hand-made elevation profile:

-------------------

Ok, races don't get any flatter than this one. There's not a single hill. It's all at sea level starting at Tidelands Park on Coronado "Island"... which really isn't an island but a pennisula (but that's not important right now).

Race day for me started at O'dark thirty... actually 4:15am. Drove 90 miles to San Diego for the 7am start. Big race. Lots of people. I got there an hour before the race start and still had problems finding parking.

I hoped to run sub-60 (6:27 pace)... but here's my splits...
mile 1 - 6:30 uh oh, a bit too slow
mile 2 - 6:09 oops, a bit too fast
mile 3 - 6:23 ah, just right... the Goldilocks zone
mile 4 - 6:20 a bit fast, but nice
mile 5 - 6:43 what the... BTW, this exact same mile split was slow 2 years ago
mile 6 - 3:42 no, just kidding, I missed the mile marker... just checking to see if you're reading :-)
mile 7 - 13:14 or 6:37/6:37... 10sec off pace for those 2 miles
mile 8 - 6:40 maybe I can still go sub-61 for a personal CR
finish - 60:33 (6:30 a mile; missed sub-60 by 4sec per mile)

The last couple of miles were fun because three of us masters runners (i.e., runners over 40) were running side by side, neck and neck. We all three knew it'd be a race to the finish line. One guy took off with a quarter mile to go. I thought he kicked too soon so I let him get ahead a good bit. Then I started kicking. I was closing in on him but I ran out of real estate before the finish line. But I did beat the other guy.

A couple minutes after I finished, I heard it announced that Steve Scott was coming to the finish. Sure 'nough, it was him. I finished 2:27 ahead of him. I was rather proud of myself for beating Steve Scott. Of course, in his prime he could have torched my tail by nearly that much in the mile alone (not just a 15K).

For runners, the name Steve Scott doesn't need any explanation, but for the non-runners realize that he held the American Record for the mile (3:47) for 26 years until Alan Webb broke that last year (2007). He also has run more sub-4 minute miles in history than anyone else (136). My kids thought it was cool that I beat someone who has his own wikipedia page. :-)

Now I'm having too much fun reminding all my family and friends that I beat Steve Scott today (even though I am 12 years younger than him). I remind them every couple of minutes about it. I'm spinning every conversation in a way to make the point that I beat Steve Scott. My son was playing Wii tennis a few minutes ago. He said, "Hey dad, I just beat all the players at tennis." Me: "Yeah, but did you beat Steve Scott?" :-)

And now I'm telling the story with great dramatic effect (and a tad of poetic license )... "I was racing neck and neck with this supreme athlete in the last miles of the race. Neither of us was giving an inch to the other. We were digging deep to outrace each other in those last couple of miles. Steve was running so fast to beat me that he realized he might have to log his 137th career sub-4 mile at the end of this race to get me. But I didn't let him have an inch of the lead. We came flying into the finishing chute side by side and I leaned at the tape and beat him by a hair. He just shook his head and patted me on the back as he realized there was a new kid in town." :-) :-) :-)

Ok, maybe I'm having a bit too much fun with this. I never got to meet him and I didn't run with him, but I did finish ahead of him. Seriously, from all I've heard, Steve Scott is an outstanding person with great integrity and character, and obviously one of the most talented runners in history. He's a great competitor and I wish him all the best with his running, his life, and his career.

This is one of the many fun things about running road races. You never know who might be in the race with you. A mediocre recreational runner like myself might be lining up right next to a former Olympian. A few years ago, I managed to finish the San Dieguito Half Marathon ahead of Paula Newby-Fraser (the "queen of Kona" who won the Ironman World Championships in Hawaii a record 8x)... and someone else with her own wikipedia page. Again, in her prime, all I would have seen is the bottom of her shoes as she would have left me behind.

I discovered after I got home that I placed 3rd in my age-group (M40-44). But I didn't stick around for any awards. I guess I really ought to start doing that since I've missed out on 2 AG awards so far this summer. Hopefully, I'll get the nice polo shirt in the mail for placing 3rd.

Got home in time to enjoy a pool party with friends and see fireworks that night. It was a good day.

Bristlecone Pines and Boiling Water on White Mountain

2008-06-29T12:00:00.000-07:00

There's many different reasons to bag a summit...

White Mountain is often an under-appreciated 14er in California, even though it's the state's 3rd highest. It doesn't have the stand-alone majestic grandeur of Shasta. It's not in the Sierra with all the others. It's the shortest hike for a California 14er, and there's a fire road to the top.

But for the last weekend of June 2008, White Mountain was the perfect peak for my son and me. We were looking for a high, nearby (relatively speaking) peak where we could do his 4th grade science project. For him, it would be a tough but reasonable hike to do... his longest and highest hike yet... and his first 14er. (Click here for complete slideshow of pictures.)

Bristlecone Pines...

White Mountain also had the added attraction of the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest. Kids love seeing something that is the highest or biggest or mostest or leastest... and this grove of wind-blown, weather-worn trees offered the oldest... something even big kids like me love to see.

On Friday, we drove 5 hours up 395 to Big Pine and then on up Hwy 168 and White Mtn road. We got to the trees late in the afternoon, but still with plenty of time to do the 4-mile walk on the Methuselah Grove trail. The path leads you to the grove where many 3,000+ year old trees still stand, more than 20 of which are 4,000+ years old. Of course, the Methuselah Tree itself is not identified to protect it from the public, but we sure had fun trying to guess which one it might be. Of course, the great irony of the bristlecone pines is that in 1964 a grad student studying the trees cut down an old one on Wheeler Peak (in Nevada) only to discover later that he had cut down the oldest one! (The Prometheus Tree dated to be at least 4,862 years old, possibly older.)

As we walked among the bristlecones, it was interesting to see small, young seedlings sprouting up. It made me wonder if 4,000 years from now another father and son would be walking in this area remarking, Wow, what an old tree.

Even though my son is only 9 years old, he's a pretty smart kid. He remarked, "And Dad, I know you didn't plant these because then they wouldn't be the oldest living things."

With such resounding confidence in my youthfulness, I decided to cook him dinner and let him sleep in my tent. :-)

Boiling Water...

The main goal of our trip up White Mountain was to do his science project for the upcoming school year. Parents of school kids know how stressful it can get lining up a reasonable and doable project for school. And of course, there's always the friendly competition with the other kids in the class to encourage a creative and unique science project.

Before heading to the mountains, we had read that water boils at 1 degree less for every 500' of altitude gain... and that would be our mathematical hypothesis. It would be interesting to see how it turned out.

On Friday night at Grandview Campground (elev. 8,600') we did our first experiment. My son, who loves math, calculated that the water should boil at 195° (i.e., 212° - 17°). We set up the backpacking stove, and voila, the water came to a full boil at 195°. Pretty cool.

Saturday morning would be our big hike. Before starting, we drove to the Visitor Center parking lot at 10,200'. My son had calculated that the water would boil at 192° (i.e., 212° - 20°). Sure 'nough, water boiled at that temperature. So far so good.

Now to the trailhead. It takes nearly an hour to drive out the winding dirt road to the Barcroft Gate. When you get there, you can't see the summit of White Mountain, and won't until nearly halfway there on the hike. Only then you realize, wow, most of the elevation gain (at least 2,300' of it) is in the last 1½ miles.

So my son and I started off. I was carrying the backpack that carried food, water, cold-weather clothes, and the science project stuff. The first mile is a little steep, but after that the road meanders up and down for 4½ miles without gaining much more elevation. When we got above the Barcroft Research Station, we boiled water at 12,500'. And it boiled at 187° just as he had calculated.

My son was getting tired in the thin air on the uphill grades. But I let him set the pace and take as many rest breaks as he wanted. If he wanted to turn back, that would be his call. But he's a very driven, goal-oriented, competitive kid. (I don't know where he gets that.) A few times, I thought he might say, Enough. But he surprised me. After a rest break, he suddenly looked up, smiled, and said, "Let's knock this sucker out." I couldn't help but laugh at him.

The last big obstacle was a huge, deep snowfield high on the mtn that covered the trail for about 200 yds. We met one hiker coming down who turned around at that point (only 200' from the summit). My son told me later that he thought we wouldn't make it. But I've been on enough peaks to know there was probably an alternate route around it. So it turned into a class-2 climb through the scree at 14,000'. And we made it.

By the time we summitted, word had already spread among those on top that a 9yo boy was on his way up. When we got there, everyone was congratulating him and raving about his hiking ability. And he loved every minute of it.

He was so exhausted that he laid down and quickly fell sound asleep. I let him nap as long as he wanted. The sky was cloudless so we had no storms to beat back to the car. After he had slept and ate, we boiled some more water. Sure 'nough, it boiled at 184° just as he calculated.

At this point, I was wondering how tired he would be for the 7-mile return to the car. But he had recharged his batteries. He talked my ear off on the way back. He was joking and goofing around just like his old normal, playful self... and he rarely took a rest break (except on a couple of steep climbs on the return). I was amazed because this was 6 miles farther than he had ever gone before, and he had rarely been anywhere near this altitude.

And so we did do his science project, testing the boiling temperature at 8,600' and 10,200' and 12,500' and 14,256'. And our working hypothesis was shown correct. The water boiled at 195°, 192°, 187°, and 184°(respectively). It was a really cool experiment for this upcoming school year.

I was very, very proud of my son. I think he learned some huge lessons about self-discipline and pressing on, even when you're tired. I've never seen him more exhausted in my life. But as I mentioned, I never pushed him or urged him to go on. We did it at his pace and he led the way.

And now this only fueled his addiction to hiking. We camped Saturday night at Lonepine Campground near Whitney Portal (the gateway to Mt Whitney). In the morning, he specifically wanted me to take him up to Whitney Portal and take his picture at the trailhead because he wants to hike Whitney as soon as he is big enough. (He does realize it's a longer hike, with more elevation, to a higher altitude.) Of course, this doesn't surprise me. Near the end of our hike to/from White Mtn on Saturday, he remarked (in all seriousness), "That was a nice little hike." I thought, "little"? Makes me wonder what's in store ahead for him.

Backpacking across Zion National Park

2008-06-20T22:24:00.000-07:00

Ever since our family stayed at the Lodge in Zion National Park in 2003, this park has been one of my favorites. It's like a smaller, redder version of Yosemite… amazingly steep canyon walls carved by rivers and creeks, but these are red sandstone, not gray granite. It's one of the overlooked gems of the Colorado Plateau due to other more popular parks nearby like the Grand Canyon and Arches.

Like most of our national parks, you only see a tiny fraction of the beauty of the place from the paved roads. The trails of the backcountry are the only way to experience the wonders of a place like Zion. To see my complete slideshow in a new window, click here (click on "options" in bottom right corner to turn on/off descriptions of pictures).

Driving Day (Wed, June 11): 450 miles of driving

I drove to Zion and got there in time to pick up my permits and exchange them for better campsite locations. I camped just outside the park next to the Virgin River.

Hiking Day 1 (Thurs, June 12): 6 miles of backpacking and 8 miles of trail running

I parked my car at the East Entrance and then as arranged, Red Rock Shuttle drove me 54 miles to Lee's Pass at the far northwest corner of the park at Kolob Canyons. Gordon (the driver) was a nice guy who knew lots of stories about southern Utah. As he drove off, I thought, "Ok, I'm out here by myself and 47 miles from my car. Better git 'er dun!"

I backpacked 6 miles down the La Vernkin Creek trail. The trail meanders along and frequently across La Vernkin Creek to the campsites. It took only a couple of hours to arrive at my campsite since it was almost all downhill, even though I stopped often to take pictures. Photographing Zion was a futile attempt to capture the beauty of this place and to try to bring it home to savor.

After setting up camp under a big oak tree at La Vernkin campsite #9. I decided to go for a trail run to see some nearby sights off the main trail. I felt light as a feather without my pack! First, I ran about a mile up to see Kolob Arch. With a span of 287', it is allegedly the second largest natural arch in the world (second only to Landscape Arch in Arches National Park). It's the highlight of this corner of Zion which most hikers in these parts make as their main destination. Due to the time of day with the sun setting behind it, I never could position myself for a decent photograph of the arch (the photo here is not mine). But it was stunning to see in person. The frogs in the creekbed seemed to agree as they croaked a loud chorus upon my approach.

Next I set out to find a waterfall I thought was up Willis Creek. I kept running up the creekbed and across the creek. A small rattlesnake greeted me as I passed by. I thought WWJMD? (What would John Muir do?) So I left the critter alone and marked the trail with pinecones so I knew where to be extra cautious on my return through there an hour later.

I had run a few miles up the creek and it was starting to get late so disappointedly I decided to turn around and head back to camp. I realized afterward that I missed the falls because they were up Bear Trap Canyon which splits off of Willis Creek. Oh well. It still was fun going for a trail run up a creek and through the deep and rarely explored canyons of Zion.

Later that night, I was sitting next to La Vernkin Creek eating dinner when I had visitors. A duck and her seven little ducklings swam and waddled by. A few hours later, I was lying in my tent about dusk when I heard something walking around outside. It sounded too big to be a squirrel but too small to be a mountain lion. It was a wild turkey with three little chicks in tow. It was nice for my neighbors to bring their families by.

Hiking Day 2 (Fri, June 13): 26 miles of backpacking

I slept hard Thursday night and got up at first light and was on the trail early. I knew I had to make good time because this was my longest leg of my trip.

First, I backpacked a mile up La Vernkin Creek trail to the Hop Valley trail. The Hop Valley trail began with a steep climb with switchbacks up to the top of a pass where I could see for several miles up the wide sandy plain known as Hop Valley. The creek was about ten yards wide and no more than about 3" deep. Hiking the 6½ miles through Hop Valley was like hiking on the beach. My feet sank low in the loose fine sand (especially with an extra 45 lbs. on my back). It made for some slow progress, and I found that I was carrying a good bit of the trail with me… in my shoes.

A few miles up the creek, the trail seemed to split and go up a steep hillside through some brush. I stood there for several minutes trying to determine which direction was actually the main trail. My detailed map didn't seem to indicate any trail splitting off. Since it looked more well worn to go uphill, I figured the trail must be bypassing some kind of steep obstacle up the creek. I progressed up the steep hill and through low-hanging branches. Soon I was questioning how this could be the main trail, but there was lots of horse manure functioning like bread crumbs (ok, I admit that's a gross analogy) leading me on higher and further through the brush. I certainly wasn't the only man (or beast) that had come this way. Finally, I was getting frustrated with the relentless scratching of this thick underbrush and I decided to cut across back to the other trail down below in the creek bed. "Ruh roh, Scraggy" I thought as I now stood at the top of a 40' ravine looking at the trail far below.

I stood there for a few minutes weighing my options. Backtrack? No, I didn't have time to waste on my longest hiking day. Lower my pack down and then climb down? No, my pack and possibly myself would get smashed on the boulders below. Search for another way down? Yes, not too far away, I found a place where many other frustrated off-trail hikers had descended to the true trail below. I've never been happier to be back on the main trail.

Soon I had made it to the Hop Valley trailhead. Wow, a latrine (who'da thunk that would be a step up for bathroom facilities) complete with anti-bacterial soap (what a novel idea)! I sat in the shade of the trees and ate lunch.

Next I headed across the Connector Trail. These 4 miles led across softly rolling hills with mostly low brush but some trees. Then came the 5 miles known as Wildcat Canyon trail. This was a wide trail which offered trees for shade now that the day was getting hot. I passed a group of about 15 people who were out on a short day-hike to Northgate Peaks. They looked at me rather odd since I was carrying more gear than all of them combined. I guess they didn't realize that all these smaller shorter trails in Zion could be combined into one long Trans-Zion expressway.

Finally, I came to the West Rim trail. This (combined with the Telegraph Canyon trail) would be my route for what I thought would be the final 8½ miles of the day. After ¾ of a mile, I came across the sign for what would be my last water source for the rest of the day… Sawmill Spring. The spring was about a third of a mile down a hill off the trail. I wasn't even sure if it was running or not. I figured, I'd better fill up with water so I set my pack under a large pine tree and headed down the trail with my camelbak bladder and my water-filter pump. The spring was a tiny bubbling pool of water about the size of the spurt of oil that Jed Clampett had shot out of the ground. Even though the spring sat in the hot afternoon sun, the water was refreshingly cold and tasted oh so good!

By this point of the afternoon, I was counting down the miles (or more rightly the minutes) until I came to the Telegraph Canyon trail which served as a 1½-mile shortcut to my campsite. Unfortunately, there was a long steep climb upward to that much anticipated junction… and when I got there I was rudely greeted with an unexpected sign: "TRAIL CLOSED due to downed trees and erosion." I wasn't too excited about this little detour. After hiking 23 miles with a 45-pound pack to get to this point, I just collapsed under a tree and pondered that sign. Instead of hiking 1.8 miles down Telegraph Canyon trail, I now had to hike 3.2 miles continuing on West Rim trail.

Even though I really wasn't in the mood to add any extra miles to my hike that day, I must admit the views from the West Rim trail were stunning. Most of the way, I was looking down on countless canyons as far as one could see. When I did arrive at my campsite (West Rim #1), I just dropped my pack and laid flat on my back for 15-20 minutes. I've run marathons in rugged places like Pikes Peak, Crater Lake, and Death Valley before, but it's been a long time since I've been that exhausted. Running 26 miles free-spirited and unencumbered is one matter, but hiking 26 miles with a full pack is a whole other matter. I realized 26 miles of backpacking is about my limit for one day. That's good to know.

After inhaling a tasty dinner of rice, beef jerky, and an orange for dessert (all of which pretty much vaporized in my mouth), I insisted that my tired legs take me and my water filter about a quarter mile further down the trail to Cabin Spring (the reason I selected this campsite) to load up on water. That would be one less thing to do in the morning.

That night I had visitors again, but these were not as welcome. Seemingly every mosquito on that side of the park smelled fresh blood. And they congregated on the screen of my tent. I was treated to a gorgeous sunset out the side of my tent as night fell, and my hungry little visitors returned in the morning for sunrise to see if I wanted to come out and play.

Hiking Day 3 (Sat, June 14): 16 miles of backpacking and 450 miles of driving

I went to bed Friday night wondering what my legs would feel like in the morning. I was afraid they might stage a revolt and self-amputate themselves if I tried to walk any further. But I was pleasantly surprised to find my legs awoke refreshed and up for another big day of hiking.

Saturday would be a shorter day in terms of mileage, but it was a day of bigger climbs. I'd be hiking down into the heart of the main valley thousands of feet below and then back up and out of the canyon up the steep walls, up to the East Rim, and on over to the East Entrance.

I started early again, and I proceeded two miles down the West Rim trail to Scout's Lookout. The morning sunrise over the canyons adjacent to the trail was spectacular. It was odd to arrive at Scout's Lookout by mostly going downhill. I had been here three years before after running the St. George Marathon. Scout's Lookout is the last stop on the main trail up from the floor of Zion to Angel's Landing. At Scout's Lookout, there's only the final strenuous and rather exposed ½-mile climb up to the top of Angel's Landing, one of the supreme highlights of Zion National Park. Like I said, I had been here before, but on that afternoon in October 2005, my legs were too tired to go any further after running 26 miles that morning for my first BQ (Boston-qualifier).

But this morning, my legs were fresh so I stashed my pack (no need to take that to the top!) and set off with only my camera to conquer Angel's Landing. Again, I felt light as a feather as I quickly climbed the final 500' to the top… and it is a climb, often on all fours and often with no more than a few feet of room to spare with the valley floor 2,000' directly below. There were a few early-risers who were already up on top savoring the amazing views of the valley in all directions. But what distracted my attention was the sight of the steep switchbacks on the east canyon wall that I knew I'd have to ascend in an hour or two. Normally, I'd relax and spend some time on a magnificent summit like this, but I'd better get going if I wanted to climb those switchbacks in the shade of the canyon wall.

So I darted back down to my pack and quickly descended to the valley floor. I passed dozens and dozens of hikers who again gave me strange looks as I descended this popular trail with a full pack. As I approached the footbridge crossing the Virgin River, a herd of five deer waded out into the river. I pointed these out to hikers I passed, most of whom were too oblivious to have noticed for themselves the wildlife right beside them.

I crossed the footbridge at the Grotto and headed 1½ miles up the main road to Weeping Rock. It felt odd to be backpacking on a paved road, but the only vehicles were the park shuttle buses ferrying visitors to the various highlights of the valley floor. Would I ease my feet and ride the bus to my next trail junction? Nah, that would be cheating. So I just waved a friendly wave as I headed up the road… and I spared the bus riders the strong scent of "Ode of Wilderness."

About ten minutes up the road, a shuttle bus passed, and no sooner had it done so and a big buck jumped out in the road about 10 yards ahead of me. He just looked at me cock-eyed as if to say, "You're not supposed to be there! The bus just passed. What are you doing here?" And then he dashed off the side of the road to his friends below in the river.

Weeping Rock serves as the trailhead for the East Rim trail and Observation Point. Five years ago, I had gone this way before. I had power-hiked the four-mile trail to Observation Point… but I was carrying only a tiny day pack with a small amount of water that day. Today would be different.

Fortunately, I was graced with the cool shade of the shadows from the east canyon wall as I hiked two miles and up several thousand feet in elevation. I felt like a tractor-trailer in low gear as I ascended the reasonable grade of the switchbacks. Above the switchbacks, for a short while the trail meanders through and above several mesmerizing slot canyons that are so characteristic of Zion. I couldn't help but think, I can't wait to come back here sometime and hike the Narrows (the most famous slot canyon in Zion) with my wife and kids. That's the most popular hike in the park, and something that would interest them much more than a 3-day, 47-mile backpacking trip.

After the trail for Observation Point split from my route on the East Rim trail, I rudely discovered that I had a lot more elevation to gain. And it was hot. The sun had been scorching these shadeless slabs of sandstone that now served as my path. The route was hot, steep, and relentless. The only consolation for this draining grind was that the temperatures would get cooler as I ascended in elevation… supposedly, but I didn't seem to feel it. Across these rocks, the path was obscure and difficult to trace, but cairns had been built to dot the route as trail markers.

I was sweating profusely as I sucked in hot dry air and guzzled cold water while laboring with my pack up to and on top of the East Rim itself. The trail leveled off and now provided the cool shade of large trees that adorned the edge of the canyon rim. Two days ago, I was shutter happy as I paused to snap up pictures of canyons like these. But now, I knew I was on the final leg of my journey and within a couple of hours of my car so even the beauty of the East Rim couldn't slow me down much.

After traversing a large treeless meadow, I found myself at Stave Spring, the last water source on my hike. I thought I probably had enough water to make it to the car with no problem, but I had used so much already I figured it wouldn't hurt to fill up. So I did.

It was a good decision because the rest of the trail was a shadeless descent on a wide barren trail that was baking in the afternoon sun. I applied copious amounts of sunscreen and tucked a bandana under my hat to serve as a shade for the back of my neck. Soon down the road, I was treated to the trickle of cold water down the back of my pants. I thought, "That feels good! No, wait a minute? I'm not supposed to be feeling that!" I discovered the tubing of one of my camelbak bladders had disconnected and drained itself in my backpack. Nothing I could do about it now… and I'm glad I had second one in there.

Since there's no mile markers on trails like these, I was calculating in my head my estimated time of arrival for the last five miles of the hike (based on my pace from the previous days). Two low-flying vultures circled overhead. I thought, that's not a good sign. Good thing I'm not superstitious. It didn't dawn on me til afterward that yesterday was Friday the 13th.

Slowly the miles ticked off… they seemed extremely drawn out since I'm used to running... but without a pack. It was as if time was in slow motion. But I was making progress. No sooner had I calculated that I probably had one mile to go than I rounded the bend and there was my car! "Yes!" I shouted and I've never been happier to know I had misjudged my finish!

I wasted no time as I loaded up my gear and headed off down the road. I had thoroughly enjoyed Zion, but I was ready to head for home. Tomorrow was Father's Day and I really wanted to get home to see my wife and kids that night. And seven hours later I did. It was an awesome, awesome backpacking trip, but it was good to be home… back to the land of soft beds, indoor plumbing and running water.

Running the mountains of Santa Monica

2008-06-08T15:12:00.000-07:00

Well, I ran the Valley Crest Half Marathon, a tough hilly trail race, in the Santa Monica mtns this weekend. Unfortunately, the morning fog burned off just before the 8am start and we were treated to the warm California sun, but at least that allowed us to see the beauty of the Santa Monica mtns in all directions.

Tough, tough hills. There's a reason there's no paved roads in this area! This is one of those fun, scenic races that you go and give your best effort but you know your finishing time is going to be well off your PR (unless you have a very, very soft PR).

I figured since I ran 1:30:23 for a half in the hills of Palos Verdes a few weeks ago (878' elevation gain), maybe I could run 1:35 on this course that has nearly twice the elevation gain (1,642'). I knew that'd be a tall order. Actually, I think the course eats up much more than 5 minutes off of a normal half time. I found out afterward, that the course-record holder from last year ran 1:13 (in better weather... cool & overcast) and he's a 1:04 half marathoner.

Ready for my splits? Here they are:
13.1 in 1:37:58
finish in 1:37:58
There were no mile markers. :-) You just go and run your heart out.

I can say I made a good consistent effort and paced myself well. No one passed me on the second half of the course, and I managed to pass a couple of runners in that same stretch. So unlike Palos Verdes, I didn't fade any at the end of this race. Mile 12 was brutally uphill and then the closing ¼ mile was brutally downhill to a disadvantage (having to brake and keep from sliding on the dirt).

I think I finished 19th overall. Overall, it was a great race in a great place. Glad I did it. You just gotta love races like this.

Running the hills of Palos Verdes

2008-05-18T21:43:00.000-07:00

When our family visited Palos Verdes for the first time back in April, I realized I really need to run the Palos Verdes Marathon sometime. That's one beautiful place to run a race. Basically, the Palos Verdes Marathon is SoCal's version of the world renowned Big Sur Marathon in NorCal.

When May rolled around, I had to decide full or half? Full or half? I was really wanting to run the full marathon at Palos Verdes to fully experience the place. I also prefer to run the longest race when an event is sponsoring more than one race. Normally, when I run a half marathon, it's a stand-alone half marathon (not just a shorter event being offered at a full marathon).

But since my training had been minimal due to injuries (only 8 weeks of solid miles in the 50s or 60s) and I hadn't run a race (due to repeated nagging injuries) in over a year (since last year's debacle at Boston), I opted for the half. Turned out to be a wise decision for other reasons. A high pressure system moved over SoCal the weekend of the Palos Verdes races. Normally, the afternoon high is supposed to be 72° in mid-May. But weather.com was predicting the following temps for race day:
7am - 69° sunny
8am - 72° sunny
9am - 76° sunny
10am - 81° sunny
The full marathon started at 7:00am and the half at 7:30am. I was very glad I had chosen the half. It was 78° when I finished around 9am. Those full marathoners must have really been suffering out there in the heat.

My training was only minimal going into this race. My last eight weeks of miles had been: 50, 51, 52, 62, 62, 64, and 71. My long had increased in those weeks: 11, 13, 17, 20, 18, 21, and 21. But still, only 6 times in those 2 months had I run farther than the half marathon distance. Also my four tempo runs had only been 6 miles each. I knew that meant I was probably not going to have a strong finish. But still I would give it my best effort.

Going back to 2004, I had a string of half marathon races in which I had always run sub-1:30 (or sub-90 minutes which is 6:52/mile). I really didn't want to see that streak come to an end. I knew it'd be really tough to run sub-90 on a sunny, hot day on this course which is far from easy... 878' of total elevation gain! There are lots of hills on this course.

Ready for some erratic splits? Here you go. BTW, the question mark means I missed the mile marker and had to split the difference with the next mile. Also realize that the elevation only indicates how high the mile marker was. There were hills in between all those mile markers too. I actually felt like I gave a very even effort up and down the hills (even though the splits don't look like it) until the last 2-3 miles.

Mile...Split....Time....Elevation
01.....6:20......6:20......98'
02.....7:05?....13:25?....308'
03.....7:04.....20:29.....380'
04.....6:27?....26:56?....272'
05.....6:27.....33:23.....220'
06.....6:42.....40:05.....167'
07.....6:31.....46:36.....167'
08.....7:17.....53:53.....220'
09.....8:01.....61:54.....272'
10.....7:13.....69:07.....380'
11.....6:50.....75:57.....308'
12.....6:40.....82:37......98'
13.1...7:45.....90:23.....110'
(7:03 pace for the last 1.1 miles which included more uphill.)
Finished with an average pace of 6:54/mile.

I could see the clock ticking away from my goal in the distance as I made every effort to get there before it rolled over to 1:30. Dang. In the immortal words of Maxwell Smart, "Missed it by that much." 23 stinking seconds.

I was hurting by mile 9 and never so glad to finish. I was hanging on for survival in those last 3-4 miles. I got some help from those downhills at the end, but still I knew I was fading in the last 2-3 miles. The guys I had been running with for the first 10-11 miles were starting to pull away from me, and I couldn't hang on. Even though my splits for miles 11 and 12 look fast (compared to the rest), those were some bigtime downhills and I just couldn't hang on to the runners I had been running with.

After the race, I had to rush off. I ran through the finish line, bent over and caught my breath, walked over and picked up my t-shirt, and headed for the car immediately. I had to get home ASAP so my wife could get to an important meeting. Only the next day did I make a surprising discovery... I WON my age group!?! Are you kidding me?

At the turn-around, I knew I was around 25th place overall (out of ~1300 runners). Since M40-44 is typically a large age-group, I figured surely 4 or 5 or 6 of those in front of me were in my age group. I honestly didn't expect to place. But lo and behold, out of 107 runners in M40-44, I beat them all. I'm still not sure how that happened. Obviously, a bunch of fast guys in their 40s must have slept in!

The next day I could tell I had given it my all (despite falling 23 seconds short of my goal). I was pretty stiff and sore for my recovery run on Sunday. But it sure felt good to be back in the thick of things and toeing the line at a race again. Thirteen months is too long of a stretch without any racing.

Santa Monica mtns on Spring Break

2008-03-20T11:43:00.000-07:00

For several months I had been planning a backpacking trip on the Backbone Trail across the Santa Monica mountains during my Spring Break from school. The route starts at Point Mugu State Park at the western end of the Santa Monica mtns. From that point, the Backbone Trail follows a mixture of trails and fire roads until it ends 65 miles later at Will Rogers State Historic Park in the east. Even though the highpoint is only 3100', the BBT gains over 13,000' along the way. There are more well known places to backpack in the southwest, but I was looking for a place in March that would have no snow, mild temperatures, and good scenery so the BBT seemed to be a good option.

The BBT can be quite a logistical headache. There's no camping along the route except in four designated areas which are disproportionately spaced. There's also not many water sources except at those campgrounds. Sometimes the trails are not clearly marked, but fortunately the NPS provides a list of 42 GPS coordinates for the junctions along the way.

The BBT is a great place to get accustomed to backpacking. There's no high altitude and there's no bears. Being so close to the ocean, the temperatures are very moderate. The main issues to consider are rattlesnakes (which aren't usually out in March) or poison oak… very minor obstacles compared to backpacking elsewhere.

As Tuesday dawned for the start of my big trip, I could tell I was already starting to get sick. I still left for the trip, but I could tell that I was going to have to change my plans. The problem with attempting a backpacking trip along the BBT is that once you start, you're basically committed to finishing it to the end, and I could tell that the logistics of this trip just weren't going to squeeze into my schedule this week and especially since I wasn't feeling well.

So on Tuesday, I opted for a day-hike of a clockwise loop instead of a multi-day, point-to-point backpacking venture. I arrived at the Malibu Creek State Park campground and took the trail south over the ridge and down to Tapia Park. Then I picked up the BBT at the trailhead just south of the bridge on Malibu Canyon Rd. Then I headed up Puerco Motorway (a fire road) towards Mesa Peak. From there I took the Mesa Peak Motorway (a fire road) due west towards Corral Canyon Road. It was disappointing to see that most of the vegetation to the south towards the pacific had burned in the Malibu fires last October. This dirt road had served as the firebreak to keep the fires from advancing further north. Still, the trail at this point offered stunning views to the south towards the Pacific and inland to the north.

At Corral Canyon Road, I left the BBT and continued on further west towards Castro Peak (2,640'). Unfortunately, I was thwarted from going to the actual peak due to privacy restrictions at the gate. So I ate lunch and then backtracked and headed down the steep fire road known as Bulldog Motorway. I was dropping hundreds of feet in elevation very rapidly.

Finally, I reached Crags Road and headed east towards the next highlight of my hike… the old film set for M*A*S*H 4077. Sure enough, just as I had read, I came across the umistakable rusted out skeleton of an old jeep and an old army ambulance. Nothing else remains of the set because evidently it burned in a different brush fire years ago. Still, it was kind of cool to be walking through the site where Hawkeye, B. J., Radar, Klinger, Colonel Potter, and Major Houlihan were filmed. I kept looking up at the bluffs above almost expecting choppers to fly in. A few miles further down the road and I was back at the campground. I'm guessing it was about a 14-mile loop that I had hiked.

The next morning, I awoke to a frost covered tent and car. I was feeling sore and achey, not so much from the hike, but the effects of my cold which was getting worse (clogged up ears, sore throat, and runny nose). I wasn't ready to call the trip completely off yet so I drove up Yerba Buena Rd for a shorter day-hike on the high point of the Backbone Trail.

I started hiking at the Sandstone Peak TH (2,030'). After a mile, the trail comes around the north side of Sandstone Peak (3,111'), also known as Mt. Allen (name after the founder of nearby Circle X Ranch). Sandstone Peak is the highest point in all of the Santa Monica mountains. I scrambled up to the peak and signed the register. The peak offers stunning views of the entire coastal mountains and even snow-capped Mount Baldy 40 or 50 miles in the distance.

I then continued on the trail past Boney Peak (a great place for rock-climbing), Inspiration Point, and on up to Tri Peaks (3,010'). From there I took the Mishe Mokwa Trail around the north side of the mountains and passed Split Rock and Balanced Rock. It made for a nice little 6-mile loop to finish off my trip to the Santa Monica mountains.

Overall, I'm disappointed that my schedule and then sickness only allowed a couple of day-hikes, but I was grateful for the chance to get out, take in some fresh air, and to experience some great scenery.

Longs Peak

2007-07-14T14:15:00.000-07:00

At 14,259’, Longs Peak (for more info from SummitPost.org, Wikipedia, NPS, or RockyMountainNews) is the 15th highest 14er in the state of Colorado (of 54 such peaks). It’s the highest point in the Rocky Mountain National Park and the northernmost 14er in the Rocky Mountains in the state of Colorado (and the only 14er north of I-70).

Longs Peak can easily be spotted from Estes Park and even Boulder (30 miles south). The peak is named after Major Stephen Long who explored the area in the 1820s. The first recorded summit of the peak was the surveying party of John Wesley Powell in 1868. Longs Peak is also the peak depicted on the 2006 Colorado state quarter.

Summiting Longs Peak is never a sure thing. There are quite a few variables that can thwart the best attempts at the peak…

Weather: summer afternoon thunderstorms are a regular occurrence in the Colorado high country. Many of the deaths on Longs Peak have been due to lightning strikes. It’s best to be off the exposed high places by early in the afternoon.
Snow and Ice: the presence of snow and ice on the narrow passages on the west and south sides of the mountain make even the Keyhole Route to be a technical climb requiring crampons and ice axe until mid-July.
Crowds: since the Keyhole Route is the most popular hike of any Colorado 14er, in the summertime this peak can be overcrowded with people... sometimes as many as 100 at a time on the peak at once. The NPS estimates that 15,000 climb Longs Peak each year, most between mid-July and late-September. This creates long lines cueing up to go single file through the treacherous narrow passages ascending and descending. The crowds can also make securing a campsite quite difficult in the Boulderfield or anywhere near the TH (important for an early start).

Since the 1800s, there have been 55 recorded deaths on Longs Peak from such things as lightning, hypothermia, and falls due to winds, ice, and rocks breaking loose.

Longs Peak has been high on my to-do list for at least five years. Every time I visit Colorado, I’ve dreamed about summiting this mountain, but the timing and conditions have not been right… until yesterday, Friday the 13th of all days.

The Keyhole Route

The Keyhole Route is the “easiest” route to Longs Peak, but it is far from easy. It is not simply a hike but a strenuous trek across 7.5 miles of rough terrain and up 4800’ in elevation. The first 5.9 miles are a class-1 hike from 9400’ at the TH to 12,750’ at the “Boulderfield.” The Boulderfield ascends upward until you reach a notch in the mountain appropriately called “the Keyhole” at 13,150’. At the Keyhole, the route becomes a class-3 climb across narrow passages and up steep ravines for the last 1.3 miles of the trek.

The Keyhole provides access between the east and west sides of the mountain and the first sights of Glacier Gorge thousands of feet below. From the Keyhole to the summit, the route is marked with a series of red and yellow bull’s eyes painted on the rocks. From the Keyhole, the route traverses horizontally across a series of narrow ledges for roughly 500 yards until you come to “the Trough.”

The Trough (up and down) is a long, steep couloir which ascends skyward to 13,850’. At the top of the Trough, climbers have to carefully maneuver around a large impeding boulder to come around to the south side of the mountain and in view of the valley thousands of feet below.

The route then traverses across an exposed ledge appropriately called “the Narrows.” After the Narrows, the climb ascends sharply upward for 300’ in a couloir called “the Homestretch.” At the top of the Homestretch, you climb over a rock and surprisingly are suddenly in full view of the relatively flat summit for the first time.

My Ascent of Longs Peak

I arrived at the campground at the TH late on Thursday afternoon and was surprised to find plenty of campsites still available. I have to thank the NPS for this. They had a warning posted stating that Longs Peak was still a technical climb requiring crampons and ice axe due to snow and ice. But I knew from recent online reports and talking with hikers in the campground that snow and ice were not a problem on the Keyhole Route. Thanks to the NPS warning, I wouldn’t have to battle the crowds going to the top.

I wasn’t sure how long it would take me to summit this mountain, but I definitely wanted to be back below treeline before afternoon thunderstorms rolled in. So I decided to start out early.

I was on the trail at 4:45am with headlamp on. I passed individuals and groups who had started out earlier as I power-hiked upward through the trees and through the barren rocks above treeline. The sunrise to the east was gorgeous. Soon I found myself at the unmistakable place called the Boulderfield. I quickly hopped across the rocks and was at the Keyhole at 7:00am. Then I got scared. You have to understand that I’m a hiker, not a climber.

As I peered through the Keyhole, before me for the first time I saw the beginning of the narrow ledges I had read about. Underneath me was the beautiful Glacier Gorge dotted with mountain lakes thousands of feet below. A female climber who looked like she knew what she was doing (at least she had a rock climber’s helmet on) was the only person on the route ahead of me.

So I gritted my teeth and started off after her. I was thinking it would be wise to follow someone who knew what they were doing (or at least looked like she knew what she was doing). I told myself, just don’t look down (and I didn’t). But soon, my female climbing guide stopped and I ended up catching up to her and I had to pass her. I had no plans to spend any extra time taking breaks on this treacherous part of the climb. I wanted to get to the summit as soon as possible.

The farther I went, the more I became comfortable with the idea of traversing across narrow ledges with such high-altitude exposure below... but not comfortable enough to rid myself of white knuckles, gasping short breaths, twitching muscles, and a fear of looking down. I wish I could post some personal pictures of this experience, but I didn’t want to take my hands off the rocks long enough to fumble around in my backpack for my camera.

At “the Trough,” the route turned sharply skyward and became a bona fide climb. It was super-steep and seemed to go on forever. I kept telling myself... just make it to the next bull’s eye, just make it to the next bull’s eye. At many points, the route was so steep that I had to use all 4s to gradually pull myself up the route. Of course, since this was at over 13,000' the thin air doesn't help matters much.

I came upon a boulder that was particular tricky because there was barely enough space for a single individual to get around it with the added anxiousness of lots of exposure on these ledges. Slowly I eased myself around the massive rock.

As I came around this bend, two people who were descending told me that I was now in the Homestretch. Even though that's the actual name for this section, I think it’s a misnomer. What I didn't realize until then is that most of the Homestretch ascends steeply skyward also. It was an exhausting climb through this section, but I made good progress.

Then I came to a notch at the top and pulled myself up, and surprise, surprise, I was on top... the summit at last! Woo hoo! Mission accomplished. My 7th Colorado 14er! (except about an hour later I suddenly realized... uh oh, I’ve still gotta go back down!)

The summit surprised me because there was no indication it was just over the next rock. I strolled around on top and found the actual highpoint and about seven different geodeitic markers on various rocks.

I spent about an hour on top. I signed the log book and took some pictures. I ate my PB&J sandwiches for lunch, even though it was barely 8:30am... I went up a whole lot faster than I expected. I watched a marmot play in the distance. Then I took a nice nap... there's no better place on earth to take a nap than on a hard-earned mountain peak.

At first, there were only 3 of us on the peak. I was the 5th person up that Friday. Eventually, there were 5 of us which made a nice-sized gathering. The top of this peak was really odd. Basically, it was a remarkably level boulder field, but about the size of a football field. The weather could not have been more perfect... sunny, no clouds, 50s and virtually calm with no wind.

I knew more people would be coming up the narrows, the trough, the ledges, the homestretch, and all kinds of other places that I had other (unpostable) names for. I wanted to get down before meeting too many of them face to face in those places. I didn’t want to be anti-social, but those aren’t exactly the best places for a friendly get-together.

I looked around and suddenly wondered, how did I get up here? All the edges of the summit looked the same. Fortunately, I found that the NPS had posted a red sign for rubes like me who didn’t think ahead to remember where you came up. The sign indicated the proper place to begin the descent down the Homestretch.

So I started down. The descent was as treacherous for me as the ascent and took me nearly as long (at least to the Boulderfield). Now I had the extra bonus of seeing below all the places to which I could fall. Somehow I managed not to wear out the seat of my pants as I slowly slid down the rocks... but I now understood why those rocks were so slick.

When I got to the Keyhole, the winds had picked up. I was very glad that I gotten up and down the peak early in the day before I encountered any friendly breezes. I don’t think I would like to attempt this mountain in anything but perfect weather. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I’d like to attempt this mountain again in any weather.

After the Keyhole and the Boulderfield, it was soooo good to get back to the main trail on terra firma. I descended down the trail quite rapidly. At 12:45pm I was back at my car. Covering 15 miles and 4800’ of elevation gain going to/from Longs Peak was a wonderful way to spend 8 hours on a Friday.

Conclusion

On this trip to Colorado, Longs Peak wasn’t even on my agenda. But the timing and conditions worked out perfectly and I was finally able to conquer this monolith. Just 6 days earlier, I missed out on running the Leadville Trail Marathon due to a groin injury. Longs Peak was certainly a very nice consolation prize.

I can actually say that Longs Peak is the first 14er I've ever climbed (not hiked). It was definitely a climb. My arms were sore afterward. A class-3 climb with lots of exposure is not exactly my cup of tea, but I did it.

As I drove back through the RMNP to return to my family on the western side of the continental divide, I couldn't keep my eyes off of Longs Peak in the distance. It was surreal to think that I had just been up there.

Boston Marathon: A Weekend Awash

2007-04-18T15:56:00.000-07:00

Preview:

Understand that I have wanted to run the Boston Marathon for over 10 years. It took me a long time to qualify. I got a BQ ("Boston qualifier") in October 2005 but missed it last year due to an injury (despite having a bib, plane tix, and a place to stay). I wanted to do well this year at Boston since this is the one and only time I planned to run this race. I’ve never trained harder or run more miles preparing for a marathon. It was not unreasonable to expect a good PR ("personal record").

My splits: (mile, mile split, overall time, overall pace)
Mile 01, 7:20 (7:20, 7:20 pace)
Mile 02, 7:06 (14:26, 7:13 pace)
Mile 03, 7:11 (21:37, 7:12 pace)
Mile 04, 6:57 (28:34, 7:09 pace)
Mile 05, 7:14 (35:48, 7:10 pace)
Mile 06, 7:09 (42:57, 7:10 pace)
Mile 07, 7:10 (50:07, 7:10 pace)
Mile 08, 7:14 (57:21, 7:10 pace)
Mile 09, 7:18 (1:04:39, 7:11 pace)
Mile 10, 7:21 (1:12:00, 7:12 pace)
Mile 11, 7:18 (1:19:18, 7:13 pace)
Mile 12, 7:08 (1:26:26, 7:12 pace)
Mile 13, 7:19 (1:33:45, 7:13 pace)
Half = 1:34:32 (7:13 pace)
Mile 14, 7:16 (1:41:01, 7:13 pace)
Mile 15, 7:21 (1:48:22, 7:13 pace)
Mile 16, 7:13 (1:55:35, 7:13 pace)
Mile 17, 7:48 (2:03:23, 7:15 pace, Newton Hills)
Mile 18, 7:40 (2:11:03, 7:17 pace, Newton Hills)
Mile 19, 7:31 (2:18:34, 7:18 pace, Newton Hills)
Mile 20, 7:42 (2:26:16, 7:19 pace, Newton Hills)
Mile 21, 8:09 (2:34:25, 7:21 pace, Newton Hills)
Mile 22, 7:28 (2:41:53, 7:21 pace)
Mile 23, 7:50 (2:49:43, 7:23 pace, starting to fade some, realized I should’ve taken Gu earlier)
Mile 24, 7:49 (2:57:32, 7:24 pace)
Mile 25, 8:03 (3:05:35, 7:25 pace)
Finish = 3:14:56 (last 1.2 miles at 7:40 pace; 7:26 pace overall)

I finished #2,562nd out of 20,348 runners.

My Disappointments:

• Three recent races (10K, 15K, half) indicated I should have been able to run 2:55, but on Monday I barely managed to run 3:14.

• I didn’t run a single mile at or under 6:52, my goal MP ("marathon pace"). Only 1 mile did I manage to run sub-7:00. I was never able to get into the proper MP groove.

• On Monday, I hit the 24 MM in 2:57:32. My last long run 3 weeks before Boston was 24 miles in 2:55:55 (in the wind) so I didn’t even run 24 miles at Boston as well as I did 3 weeks prior on a training run (despite having tapered for the marathon).

• I averaged running over 85 miles-per-week (over 12 miles per day) since January 1 (3x with 100+ miles in a week; lowest week was 70mpw) and yet I couldn’t beat my PR (3:11:50) from 2005 when I averaged about 40-50mpw.

• Since December, I ran 15 runs that were 20+ miles (4 of the last 5 were 24 miles each) to make sure I'd be strong to the end of the marathon, and yet my splits faded some in the last 3 miles.

Why my demise?

• Never do anything new on marathon day… but I had to… run in the rain. I hadn’t run in the rain in years. I didn’t know how to prepare (even as late as 20min before the race). The anticipation of bad weather ruined me more than the weather itself. I ended up being overdressed. I was wearing rain pants and a rain jacket over running shorts and a shirt. Within 2 miles I had already peeled my jacket and tied it around my waste and was running in the cold rain with only short-sleeves (and wishing to take off the rain pants). But I kept those clothes that way because I knew we could hit a serious downpour and cold winds later. I was definitely overdressed. I wish I had run only in a running shorts, shirt, gloves, and a hat. But I didn’t know. I regretted my clothing decision for 26 miles. Most everyone in the corrals up front only wore shorts and going further back more and more people were bundled up. If you want to run fast, you just gotta risk being cold. You just gotta trust that your body will generate enough heat to keep you warm. But I was completely unprepared how to deal with the weather. (BTW, I had checked the weather for the last time at 5:30am on Monday and weather.com and noaa.org both said 33mph headwinds and rain… that also scared me to overdress.)

• The weather was bad (40s, constant headwind, rainy... all part of a Nor'easter), but it could have been worse. The men’s and women’s winning times were the slowest in 22 years (since 1985). Robert Cheruiyot won this year in 2:14 but he had won last year in 2:07 in good weather. Virtually all of the elite runners ran at least 7 minutes slower than their potential. I met few runners who achieved their marathon goals on Monday (not their adjusted weather-related goals, but their original goals).

• Maybe I was too fearful of having to walk some on the course whether in the Newton Hills or at the end… and I just didn’t want to do that at Boston (maybe at other marathons, but not at Boston).

• Questions about my training: maybe I over-emphasized mile repeats that prepared me better for shorter distances but not the marathon? Maybe I didn’t do enough steady-paced MP runs and/or progressive long runs? Maybe I tapered too much and peaked too early in my training? I dunno.

• Boston isn’t an easy course (despite the misleading neg elevation loss). It’s tough to run a PR at Boston, even if you’re marathon PR is soft.

I shouldn’t be too surprised by my experience in Boston…

• I’ve had great weather for all my races for 2 years now (no exaggeration)… until Boston. My last bad weather races I can remember were in Feb-March 2005.

• I kept over-exceeding my expectations in races throughout the winter… but you can’t do that forever… and I knew that. That’s why I had often said, I’d trade all my winter PR’s for a big PR at Boston. A marathon PR is the toughest one to get.

High points of my trip to Boston:

• Catching up with so many of my friends from the online RT marathon forum. Marathoners are great people. Honestly, I was very discouraged about the weather until I caught up with some of them. We shared some good times and laughs together this weekend. Having dinner with Bret and Eduardo on Sunday night was great.

• Meeting Dick Hoyt and getting my picture made with him. For 25 years, Dick Hoyt has pushed his son (Rick) who has cerebral palsy in a wheelchair in the Boston Marathon. This was the first year in 25 years that he didn’t do so (only because Rick had just had surgery). I didn’t know Dick Hoyt would be there. When I saw him in person, I quickly realized I had no reason to wallow in self-pity about the weather for my race. What a guy and what an inspiration.

• Meeting Bill Rodgers and having my picture made with him. “Boston Billy” won the Boston Marathon 4 times (1975, 1978-80) and the NYC Marathon 4 times (1976-79) in the height of the running boom.

• The whole experience of running this legendary course. Even though I was running slower than I expected, I couldn’t help but absorb all the sights and sounds of one of the most famous places in the world for runners.

• Beating a guy dressed as a dairy cow. Hey, you gotta have a few minor victories on a disappointing day. Actually, dairy-cow guy is pictured in the results in the Boston Herald. I passed him and beat him by 6 minutes. I also beat the Easter bunny.

• Topping Heartbreak Hill at mile 21 and finishing on Boylston Street. When I reached the top of Heartbreak Hill fairly strongly (passing quite a few people even though my paces slowed some), I was whooping my arm in the air and urging the crowds to cheer us on. I did the same thing all the way down Boylston Street. What an experience!

Low-points of my trip to Boston:

• Obviously I came home with a lot of unmet expectations of the marathon itself.

• I was thrilled that my Anaheim Angels were playing at Fenway for the weekend and had a ticket to Sunday’s game. But Sunday’s game was the only one that was rained out so I didn’t get to go to Fenway. And my Angels got swept by the Red Sox in all three games (by a combined score of 25-3… ouch).

• I tried to go to Concord to see Walden Pond on Tuesday. I had reread Thoreau’s book on the plane. I really wanted to go there for some quiet reflection at the end of the weekend. When I got to Concord by train on Tuesday, it was about a mile walk to Walden Pond. But it was raining (and snowing!) so much that I was drenched within ¼ mile (and I had to fly home in those clothes) so I turned around and didn’t make it there. I did spot it from the train on the way back because I remembered Thoreau mentioning the train in the book.

What I learned…

• Not all marathon courses are created equal. The Newton Hills (miles 16-21) are not the only hills on the course at Boston.

• I admire anyone who has PR’ed at Boston. I don’t care if you ran Boston in good weather and your previous PR was soft. I admire anyone who has PR’ed at Boston.

• Marathoning is an outdoor sport. Sometimes the weather just doesn't cooperate.

• I don’t like running in the rain.

• Never ever wear rain pants in a race.

• I greatly admire those that run and train in New England in the winter. I’ve never been happier to return to sunny California.

• There are no guarantees for a good marathon… no matter how hard you have trained or how fast you have raced.

• Sometimes it’s quite an accomplishment just to cross a marathon finish line without having walked, regardless of your time goal or how hard you have trained.

• I don’t like the hassle of big-city marathons. I don’t like sitting in a crowded rain-soaked tent for 2 hours before the start. I don’t like standing in the wind in wet clothes afterward waiting for 10 minutes to retrieve my dry clothes from a school bus. I really prefer the small-town simpler marathons.

• I greatly admire race volunteers,… and even more so on rainy days.

• I greatly admire people who come out to cheer on us runners who aren’t anywhere near the front,... and even more so on rainy days.

• I do not regret any of the miles I ran training for the Boston Marathon.

• Hot coffee tastes really good after a cold race… so does pizza, orange juice, and most anything else I could get my hands on.

• The Boston fire marshal obviously has never visited the marathon expo.

• Staying in a hostel in downtown Boston was the best lodging decision I have made in years. The place was filled with other runners and we all enjoyed each others’ company.

• Running under a TV camera at the start line in Hopkinton and knowing that your wife and kids are at home looking for you and cheering for you… that’s enough to make a grown man cry.

• Dream big and train hard… and never be too disappointed for making a strong effort in any marathon.

Conclusion…

Ironically, I re-qualified for Boston on Monday. For years, I tried so hard to get a BQ because I wanted to run this race so badly. On Monday, I got another BQ and have no desire to run it again.

I reread Walden (or Life in the Woods) by Henry David Thoreau on the plane trip to Boston. His feelings about his 2-year experience in the woods are somewhat comparable to my experience with the Boston Marathon. His comments about the beginning of his stay at Walden Pond (p. 59):

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear.... I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life."

Thoreau's comments about the end of his stay at Walden Pond (p. 209):

"I left the woods for as good a reason as I went there. Perhaps it seemed to me that I had several more lives to live, and could not spare any more time for that one...."

...and such is my experience with the Boston Marathon. This was an experience I never want to forget, but this was a race I never want to re-live.

New PR's for 15K, 10K, and 5K

2007-03-25T20:36:00.000-07:00

I have a series of new PR's (personal records) to mention.

I ran the Sue Krenn 15K (9.3 miles) at Mission Bay in San Diego on Saturday, March 3, 2007. My previous PR for this distance was 62:24 on July 4th last summer in San Diego. I was hoping for my first sub-60 15K (especially since I've never run sub-40 for a 10K). I finished in 57:45 (6:13 pace) for a nice shiney new PR.

I felt very pleased with that performance, especially since I didn't taper my mileage down for this race. I had already run 78 miles that week in the previous 6 days (including 24 on Sunday; 8x1mile @6:07 each on Tuesday; 16 with 11 @6:49 pace on Thursday). I was training through this race towards the Boston Marathon in April.

A few of the mile-markers were off so I won't bore you with my inaccurate splits. Suffice it to say that I didn't hit the first mile in 4:42 and then the second mile in 7:01. All of us were like, "What the heck?" The course was accurate (it's been held 43 times), but a few of the opening mile markers were off because that part of the road had been repaved erasing the old mile markers.

The San Diego Track Club (who sponsored this race) is a tough crowd to compete against. They have some great, great runners. Let's just put it this way. Two weeks earlier at the Palm Springs Half, I finished 12th overall in a crowd of 650. Here at this 15K, I finished 27th overall in a crowd half that size. (And yet according to race calculators, I ran my stronger race at the 15K.)

I don't know what my 10K splits were at this 15K race, but I certainly bested my previous 10K PR on March 3. I just don't know by how much. No biggie though. I would be running a 10K race three weeks later.

On Saturday, March 31, 2007, I ran the Coyote Challenge 10K at Cal State - San Bernardino.

My previous 10K PR was 40:35 on a very windy day in Slidell, LA at the Camelia City Classic 10 years ago in 1997. I had always wanted to go sub-40 for 10K and had never managed to do it. (Of course, I haven't raced too many 10K's since that time either.) I did manage to go sub-60 at a 15K just 3 weeks earlier so I had high hopes of smashing my 10K PR big-time.

The course was a double-loop 5K course. The course went uphill at about 1-2% for the first 1.5 miles then downhill. Nothing terribly steep, but the uphills would wear on us, especially on that second loop.

Based on my 15K PR a few weeks ago, McMillan's race calculator estimated I could run 10K in 37:10. But my 15K was on a pancake flat course; this course was not. I figured if I could run 37:10, go ahead and try hard and dip into the 36's to make it a big PR. I would be content with 37's, but optimistically hoped for 36:59 (5:57 pace).

We had cool weather: overcast skies and 60s. It was a mass start for the 5K and 10K races at the same time. We all took off going slightly uphill. In the first quarter mile I was about in 12th place overall. After a half mile, I passed a group of 5K runners that had started too fast. I was now in 7th overall.

Near the top of the uphill, I moved into 6th ahead of a HS runner. On the downhill stretch towards the end of the first loop, he passed me back. He was surging towards his 5K finish.

There were no mile markers on the course so I had no idea what pace I was running. I knew I was pushing the pace pretty hard.

Finished the first loop in... 17:37. Holy cow. That's a bit fast. I hope I can hang on and run at least 19:22 for the second loop and still get in the 36's. That first loop is a new 5K PR for me (I don't race 5K's often either).

Now I know I'm in 3rd place for the 10K race. The 2 guys way ahead of me are uncatchable. Eventually, they'll finish in the low 33's. I'm in no-man's land again... out there by myself with a couple minutes of separation between any runners ahead or behind.

I keep pushing the pace uphill. I surge on the last 1.5 mile downhill. I come around the final grassy loop and hit the finish... 35:53.

Wow, did I surprise myself with that effort. I honestly didn't expect to get into the 36's due to the uphill drag on the course. But wow. I'm very, very pleased to nail down a big new PR.

EDIT: Well, two days later, I just found out, I'm not quite as fast as I thought I was. I was so surprised by my race that I emailed the race director to double-check to make sure the course was accurate. Come to find out, it was 2/10ths short. So evidently I ran 35:53 for 6 miles (5:59 pace) which would be the equivalent of a 37:10 10K.

Oh well. It's still a big PR that I'm happy to have. I really appreciate the RD being honest with me. When I plug those times into race calculators, that's a difference between a 2:48 marathon and a 2:55 marathon... and that's a huge difference. I easily could have gone out too fast in Boston based on this inaccurate 10K time and paid for it by crashing and burning at the end. Now I know what I can more reasonably expect to attempt in Boston.

My first 5K split would still be a PR... 17:37 for 3 miles (each loop was 1/10th short) is roughly the equivalent of an 18:10 5K (3.1 miles).

I'm still pleased with my effort on Saturday, even though I now know I can't leap tall buildings with a single bound without getting my cape caught! I continued my bad habit of not tapering for this race since I was training through this one towards Boston. Leading up to this 10K, I had already run 79.1 miles in 6 days since Sunday (including 24 on Sunday; 8x1mile @6:03 each on Tuesday; 16 miles with 14.1 @ 6:52 pace on Thursday).

It still was fun jumping from the 40's to the 37's at the 10K distance. PR-smashing is a lot of fun. The month of March has been very kind to me. New PR's for 5K (18:10), 10K (37:10), and 15K (57:45). But in a heartbeat, I'd trade all of these for a big PR at the Boston Marathon on April 16th. I ran 3 miles cool down after the race and another 12 easy recovery miles that night to give me 21.5 miles for the day. I sure am looking forward to Boston!

Palm Springs Half Marathon

2007-02-19T16:56:00.000-08:00

I ran the Palm Springs Half Marathon this weekend. It's a great race that I've wanted to run for several years but haven't been able to do so. Last year, I was suffering from a hip-flexor injury and missed the race. This year, I was using this event as a good tune-up race in my training for the Boston Marathon in April.

I didn't have the highest expectations for this race because I kinda overdid it this week in training and didn't taper much at all (82.5 miles; 8x1mile in 6:10 each on Tuesday; 21 miles on Thurs, last 5 @ 6:52 each).

We had perfect weather (50s, overcast which is rare in Palm Springs, no wind) slightly hilly course (see note about course map below). No need for sunscreen or sunglasses. Just a nice cool day for racing.

Race started at 7:00am. When my watch read, 7min 5sec into the race, I realized I was either running pathetically slower than I expected or I had missed the first mile marker.
Fortunately, it was the latter, not the former. (The opening mile marker to me is the most important one to catch to make sure my pace is not too fast or slow.) A person running near me told me their splits at that point.

Here's my splits for the entire race. You can tell where the hills were because I ran a relatively even paced effort and pushed it at the end which has a little bit of uphill also.

Mile 1 - 6:20 (6:20)
Mile 2 - 12:49 (6:29)
Mile 3 - 19:09 (6:20)
Mile 4 - 25:36 (6:26)
Mile 5 - 32:10 (6:34) - starting uphill
Mile 6 - 39:02 (6:52) - climbing
Mile 7 - 45:16 (6:13)
Mile 8 - 51:29 (6:13)
Mile 9 - 57:29 (5:59)
Mile 10 - 1:03:45 (6:16)
Mile 11 - 1:09:55 (6:09)
Mile 12 - 1:16:34 (6:38) - slight climb
Mile 13 - 1:22:57 (6:22)
Finish - 1:23:32 (:35) [6:22 average pace overall]

I must have run a negative split. If I split mile 7 in half (3:07) and add 19sec (.05 @ 6:22 pace), I'm guessing my first/second half splits were 42:28 and 41:04 (in other words, 6 miles + ½ mile + .05). But the climbs were mostly in the first half.

This is a huge PR (personal record) for me. My pace (6:22 per mile) would also be PR's for 10K and 15K since my paces in my PR runs for those distances were 6:33 ten years ago and 6:42 last summer, respectively. I'll be running a 15K and a 10K in a few weeks so hopefully I can reset those PR benchmarks as well.

It's also nice that this race completely resolves my PR dilemma for the half marathon distance. Until 4 weeks ago, I considered my PR Half to be 1:29:31 (San Dieguito Half 2005). I didn't count my 1:26:46 at Fontana Days Half in 2004 since that is an extremely downhill course that I ran only 4 weeks training. On January 20, 2007, I ran 1:25:15 at Diamond Valley Lake Half, but I suspected the course was short and I thought I ran something more like the equivalent of 1:27:40. Today's race supercedes all of those times so it's nice to have that PR situation rectified. BTW, I now suspect that the course at Diamond Valley Lake Half probably was a complete 13.1 miles and that the mile markers were off. Palm Springs is a tougher course than Diamond Valley Lake and I ran 1:45 faster today.

I also couldn't help but think on the way home that I missed qualifying for NYCM by only :32 (or by 8 months... whichever way you want to look at it since I turn 40 in October).

I can honestly say I'm stunned that I ran that fast today. I was hoping to run 1:25 so I'd know I had reasonable chance to attempt running under 3:00 in Boston. I didn't think I was capable of getting to 1:24, yet alone to 1:23. I'm pleased to say the least. It just felt good, all the way to the finish.

I ended up finishing 12th overall (out of 652), but only 4th in my age group (M 35-39).

Happy Chinese New Year everyone (which was Sunday)!

Note: The course map/elevation chart linked above is not completely accurate. There were so many turns on this course that I never could plot it correctly. I'm sure the course was accurate (and not 12.64 miles like my feable attempt at plotting the course is).

Life in Death Valley

2007-02-04T14:19:00.000-08:00

Death Valley Trail Marathon
Saturday, February 3, 2007

I like a tough marathon in a scenic locale, especially a national park. Death Valley Trail Marathon is just such a marathon. My last marathon at Crater Lake this past August was also such a race. Gorgeous places to run.

Hottest, driest, and lowest are superlatives often used to describe Death Valley, not exactly the kind of conditions most marathoners desire (except for that “lowest” part). But Death Valley in the winter (which is more akin to summer anywhere else) is a great place to run. The first weekend in February for Death Valley normally averages 70s for the high and 40s for the low, but it has been known to be as high as the 80s or as low as the 20s. This is the desert after all.

Technically, DVTM is a two-state marathon. The point-to-point marathon course is simply all of Titus Canyon Road from start to finish, from east to west. This is a 26-mile, one-way, four-wheel-drive, dirt road from Hwy 374 in Nevada to its termination at Scotty’s Castle Road in California. Roughly, the first 8 miles are in Nevada and the rest in California.

The DVTM route starts at 3,460’ elevation. The highpoint is at Red Pass (mile 12 at 5,250’). From there the road drops nearly a vertical mile over the last 14 miles to a finishing elevation of 200’ (yes, that’s an average grade of nearly -7%). Because the course traverses the narrows of a desert canyon, this event often has to be relocated to another place in the park. This was the first time in four years that the marathon was run through Titus Canyon since the last three years it was moved due to snow, rain, and rock slides from winter storms.

The event sells out rather quickly since space is limited to a few hundred runners by the NPS. Most stay at the Furnace Creek Ranch, which served as HQ for this event. But why stay in a hotel room when you’re in a national park? So I camped in my tent at Furnace Creek campground. I wanted nothing less than the full Death Valley experience. The skies above treated me with a gorgeous full moon and a sweeping array of stars. Of course, I was also giddy from oxygen intoxication since the campground has an elevation of -196’. I can honestly say, I’ve never had a more solid night’s sleep before a race than I did on Friday night in that campground. It only got down to the 40s that night.

Early on Saturday morning, we all assembled for our mandatory check-in and pre-race instructions at Furnace Creek Ranch. This was a most fascinating conglomeration of runners for a race. Trust me when I say, no one was a local runner for this race! Most of the runners were from the Bay area, many of whom wanted to use this event towards points in the EnviroSports series of races which are mostly in NorCal. Others were from Canada, France, Scotland, England, and Italy. I did manage to talk to a few people from SoCal, including the race director of the half marathon I won a couple of weeks ago. Pete was a super nice guy and a strong runner. He and I ran quite a few miles together on Saturday talking about this, that, and the other thing. We finished within a few minutes of each other.

Since this was a trail marathon, there were quite a few ultra-runners in this race. I find it funny that they use a race like this for “speed work” (no kidding, that’s what a lady who often does 100-milers told me on the bus). I learned a lot about this mysterious and enigmatic thing called ultra-running by talking to these people. I find ultra-running to be like some kind of underground cult. They keep a low-key profile out in public for fear of scorn and ostracism, but they infiltrate races like this and single you out on the bus ride to convert you to their subversive movement. They have a subtle way of making us mainstream marathoners feel like we’re less of a runner and missing out on something if we’re not out there doing 50- or 100-milers. I resisted these brainwashing techniques but still left with an inner draw to discover what they had experienced.

RD Dave gave us all our race instructions. He’s a great guy with a great sense of humor. Some of his humorous but helpful comments…

“You can’t get lost… just stay on the road.” (This was true. There are no side roads for the entire route.)
“If you want to stop and take pictures, do so. Just let me know afterwards and I’ll deduct it from your time.” (said with laughter because we were wearing chips on our ankles)
“There’s a false summit on the way to Red Pass. When you get to White Pass (4,900') around mile 8, you’ll think you’re at the top. But then you’ll run downhill a long ways and look way up high and see a #%&@ hill. That’s Red Pass.” (This was true. Those censored words were the thoughts I heard runners express as they first saw Red Pass at 5,250' high above them.)
“When you exit Titus Canyon, you’ll look out 3 miles ahead and see the buses way in the distance. You’ll run for a while and look up and you’ll swear we moved the buses, but I promise you, we don’t. You’ll run some more and look up and swear again that the buses are even further away now, but I promise you, we don’t move the buses.” (This was true. For the first mile after we left Titus Canyon at mile 23, it seemed like I was making no progress towards those shiny dots in the distance. But eventually we got there.)
“If you have any complaints, just don’t come back next year!” (said with laughter and a funny story about some runner in the past who expected personal shuttle service at the end of the race. Since this race sells out early, he’s actually halfway serious. But this was a very well run event.)
"San Diego's Rock-n-Roll Marathon in June may have lots of rock bands, but we got lots of bands of rock!" (This was true. As you can see in some of my photos, the strata in the rock walls was gorgeous.)
“Since we’re in a national park, let’s start with America the Beautiful instead of the National Anthem.” And we did.

We all then boarded the buses for the ride to the starting line in the Nevada desert. It took nearly an hour to get there.

The buses dropped us marathon runners off in Nevada about 8:30am. All of us were wondering what to wear since it was cold (low 40s with a slight breeze). We also knew we’d be going higher and through a narrow canyon with little sunlight. I’m a minimalist so I only wore a short-sleeved tech shirt, shorts, socks, shoes, and sunglasses. No hat (but I did have on sunscreen), no gloves, no Gu, no food, and no liquids (there would be aid stations at miles 5, 10, 15, 20, and 23). That was a good choice. Nowhere on the course did I ever wish I had something with me.

After the buses dropped us off, RD Dave assembled us marathoners. He called off 3 or 4 names, and then said, “It’s their birthday. Happy Birthday!” Nice touch. He then drew a line in the dirt road with his foot and announced, “Folks, this is your starting line.” And he was serious. “I’m going to drive ahead of you up the road. When you see my brake lights shut off, that’s the start.” And it was. There was no race clock here, but time was kept at the end of the course. There were no mile markers along the way, but that really didn’t matter because our splits on a course like this would be chaotic anyway. It was a rather unceremonious way to start a marathon, but hey, this is the middle of the desert. Dave drove up the road, and we were off.

For the first 7 or 8 miles (who knows how far?), we were running up the straight dirt road with a slight uphill grade (1%??). Everyone is relaxed and taking it easy because of the steep climbs further ahead. I didn’t even look at my watch for 30 minutes because it really didn’t matter what it said since there was nothing by which to gauge our time or distance. Even the mountains ahead didn’t seem to be getting any closer. One lady remarked, “Forget the buses, I think they’re moving the mountains away from us!”

After 7 or 8 miles, the road started getting steeper as it winds its way up to White Pass. We had hit the “5-mile” aid station in 42:45 and the “10-mile” aid station in 1:23:46 (41:01 split). I use those aid station names loosely because we really didn’t know if the aid stations could serve precisely as a correct mileage check.

After the second stop, the road turned steeply downhill as we dropped hundreds of feet that we had just worked so hard to gain. It was quite steep and I couldn’t help but think, I sure hope the downhill on the back half of this course is not this steep. That’ll be painful.

As we were running down hill precipitously, we could look up and see the road to Red Pass high above us. It looked incredibly steep and high. It reminded me of the long, never-ending climb to Cloud Cap Gap at mile 14 (7,900’) at Crater Lake Marathon this past summer. Similar grade, similar view, and similar point in the race.

But as the road turned uphill, I kept an even-paced effort and felt fine. It honestly didn’t feel that steep at all. Without laboring, I ended up separating myself ahead from some of the runners I had been with. I hit Red Pass and threw my hands in the air and yelled, “Yes!” as I could see the downhill road ahead. The climbs were over.

The steepness of the descent was not that bad. I chose to run in the middle of the road. I wanted to use the soft dirt in the crown of the road between the tire marks as extra cushioning for my body. It would be a long but beautiful 14-mile descent.

The upper part of the canyon had beautiful red rock features. Around mile 15, we passed the ghost town of Leadfield. It had been deserted in the 1920s. After a while, we came across some petroglyphs carved onto rocks centuries ago by Native Americans. No time to stop and explore these sights though.

Somewhere after that (who knows how many miles into the race), the canyon closes in and becomes a narrow passage through tall cavernous walls of rock. This goes on for miles and miles. The walls of Titus Canyon are hundreds of feet high, and much of the road is wide enough for only a single car. The walls somewhat reminded me of the Virgin River gorge on I-15 in northern Arizona. Titus Canyon was carved by water which was evident at bends in the road where flash floods had cut caves into the rock walls.

As we were running, I couldn’t help but think. What an incredibly awesome place to run. How few people who come to Death Valley get to experience Titus Canyon. What a perfect day. Sunny skies, cool air, slight breeze, no cares or worries in the world. Just run baby run! And oh was it fun!

After running 20+ miles, I kept wondering, When are we going to exit the canyon and see those buses? I came upon bend after bend after bend in the road, but no exit. I had been running by myself for miles and miles now. I occasionally passed some stragglers from the 30K race, but basically I had the whole canyon to myself.

Finally, I saw sunlight and the canyon opened up into full view of Death Valley. I grabbed my last gulps of water and Gatorade for the closing 3 miles of the race. And down the road we went. The road had not been too steep. My pace had been nice and consistent throughout the descent. My breathing remained light and easy and my HR relatively low. I was relieved to have made it through this race with no cramps, aches or pains.

I descended into the finish line with a time of 3:35:41 (19th overall out of 241). That’s a bit faster than I had planned to run, but I could also tell that I had not overdone it. I still had plenty of gas in the tank to go harder or farther if I had wanted. A volunteer at the end put a finisher’s medal around my neck and commented, “Wow, you’re not even sweaty.”

I had done what I wanted… enjoy this beautiful race and use it as a good training run for Boston (without setting back my training or hurting myself in the process). Mission accomplished. And BTW, yes, like most folks on Saturday, I had run a negative split (my splits for 12 miles and the last 14.2 were 1:50:12 and 1:45:28).

Overall, it was a tough course, certainly not an easy one. But it wasn’t terribly intimidating to me because Crater Lake was tougher (much higher in altitude) and I wasn’t trying to push the pace today. It just felt sooooo good.

I’m really hooked on these tough, off-road, scenic marathons. To go out and experience the beauty of a place like Titus Canyon by running free-spirited and carefree down the road is one of the great pleasures of life. Just take off your watch, open your eyes, and run a marathon like this for the scenery and beauty. It’s an experience for the memory books.

Here’s my photos of Titus Canyon and my visit to Death Valley National Park. (Note: the first 14 photos of the canyon are not mine, and I have cited the source in the description. The last 12 pictures are mine.)

Here's my race photos from Brightroom. You can tell I was having a little too much fun!

Diamond Valley Lake Half Marathon

2007-01-22T16:32:00.000-08:00

Diamond Valley Lake near Hemet (near the base of the San Jacinto mtns) is the largest water reservoir in SoCal. The two earthen dams (each nearly 2 miles long) were built from 1996-99. It took until 2002 for water to fill the reservoir. For comparison, DV Lake is a little larger than Lake Havasu on the Colorado River.

On September 4, 2001, I signed up to run the inaugural marathon around the lake scheduled for November of that year. This looked to be a fun event because it was the closest marathon to my house (only about 25 miles away). Little did I know but one week later the world as we then knew it changed irreparably. The race was cancelled due to security concerns for drinking water.

This is the first chance I've had to run any of the races at Diamond Valley Lake. I ran the Half Marathon on Saturday morning (January 20, 2007). It's a great course, mostly flat, dirt road around part of the lake (only a few slight hills). It's out-and-back for the half (circle the lake for the full marathon). Small crowd (120+?) for the half. I wasn’t sure what to expect since this was my first time to run any of the races there (they also have a marathon and 5K). Weather was perfect (40s, sunny, slight breeze). Since this race is so close to our house, I really wanted to run this race even though I knew there would be only a small crowd. I didn’t even have to leave the house until 7am which is normally when I’m finishing my daily run!

At the starting line, I was looking around to see with whom I might be running. I could tell there weren’t a lot of faster people in the race because there was plenty of room near the starting line (most of the crowd was about 10’ back from it as if to indicate they had no plans to lead the race). No Kenyans either.

I asked one guy on the starting line what he hoped to run. He said under 1:40. He asked me. I said just under 1:30 (my actual goal was 1:28:25 or 6:45 pace, but based on my recent 6-mile tempo runs I honestly wasn’t sure if I could hold that pace for that long).

The race started and two guys shot off ahead of me and 1:40 guy. After about a half mile, we caught up to them. I was hoping they were shooting for the same time so we could pace together. I asked them what time they hoped to run. They said, “Two hours” (which is about 9:00 per mile pace). I thought, What the heck are you doing out here in front running 6-minute miles? But I didn’t saying anything. Me and 1:40 guy dropped them by the first mile.

Mile 1 – 6:22. Oops, too fast. 1:40 guy is still with me. It’s just me and him, and I can’t help but wonder, can he hold this pace or was he just sand-bagging when he said 1:40.

Mile 2 – 6:43. That’s better. 1:40 guy is still with me. It's just the two of us. The course is beautiful. A winding dirt road surrounding the lake. What a beautiful day.

Mile 3 – 6:42. Nice pace. Feeling good.

Mile 4 – 6:45. This is going great so far. I think to myself, “My 15K PR last summer was at 6:42 pace. I sure hope I don’t crash around 9 miles… but so far, so good.”

Mile 5 – 6:46. 1:40 guy starts to drop back a bit.

Mile 6 – 6:24. A little fast but it had a slight drop down to the west dam of the lake and then flat pavement for nearly a mile across it. 1:40 guy starts dropping further back.

Turn-around – I didn’t hit the split on my watch because of a Gatorade station at that point. Made a mental note: 41:52. The turn-around seems to be too early for being 6.5 miles. (Note: there was an extra .1 mile spur beyond the start line at the end of the course so the turn around should have been exactly at 6.5 miles.)

Mile 7 – 4:19. Yep, that mile marker is way off. Even Ryan Hall didn’t run a 4:19 mile when he ran a new American record for the half marathon last weekend in Houston!

Mile 8 – 6:28. Back on track. Good mile. I can’t help but see that split and think, wow, that’s 40-minute 10K pace… this from a guy who’s never run a sub-40 10K in his life. So far so good.

Mile 9 - ? Split is messed up. Something like 7:28. There is no way that I ran that slow for that mile because my pace and effort hasn’t changed much at all. I didn’t even hit the split timer on my watch because I knew it was off.

Miles 10.0 to 13.1 – I don’t even bother hitting the splits on my watch. I should have just so I could gauge my pace better. I ran 34:46 from MM8 to the finish (6:49 pace per mile). That seems accurate for those 5.1 miles.

Meanwhile, back to the race itself. After the turn-around, I meet 1:40 guy about 30sec behind me. I then pass a teenager another minute or so behind him. He’s looking strong. He’s tall and has long legs. I know if I fade, teenager guy will probably catch me and win the race.

I’m far enough ahead that I can spot the runners behind me only when I come around some of the bends of the lake. I estimate that I’ve still got 1:30 to 2:00 on teenager guy. 1:40 guy has faded to third, a couple of minutes behind teenager guy.

It’s fun being out in front. I’m just not used to it though. All the runners coming the opposite way cheer me on. There’s no one with me. No race vehicle, no race director on a bike. Just me and the breeze… my own personal time-trial.

I come around the final bend, turn the corner, and go down through the chute. 1:25:15. Overall winner. Nice. Teenager-guy (actually a XC runner from Hemet High) finishes in 1:26:56. 1:40 guy finishes in 1:30:05. Great runs for both of them. They both are nice guys and I got to talk to them some after the race.

1:25:15 would be a new PR (personal record) for me for a half marathon. But I’m 99% sure the course was short at the turn-around. Based on my splits, I think I ran the equivalent of a 1:27:40 on an accurate course (if I add about 2:25 to that 7th mile; 4:19 + 2:25 = 6:44 which was about the pace I was running). I’ll know for sure when I run the Palm Springs Half in a few weeks. I have a feeling that it will be painfully clear that I didn’t run 1:25:15 on an accurate course. But hopefully, this is still a good indication of my fitness level for the Boston Marathon in April. [Correction: after talking with the RD, I now realize the course was a full 13.1 miles as it was supposed to be, but some of the opening mile markers were too long which resulted in mile 7 at the turn-around appearing way too short.]

Sorry for such a long story. I'm just not used to winning races, even small ones in obscure corners of our world. BTW, for winning, I got a plaque with a wooly mammoth statue on it (not exactly sure the significance of that… maybe an indication I need to shave?) and a gift certificate for a pizza. Mmmm. I look forward to that.

Nameless's charge up Baldy

2006-09-04T19:13:00.000-07:00

I got up at 5am this morning to drive over to Mt Baldy for the 41st annual Labor Day Run-to-the-Top of Mt Baldy. It's an 8-mile race up 4000' to the peak of Baldy (10,064', the highest point in the San Gabriel mtns overlooking Los Angeles). Before I left, I read the tragic news that Australian crocodile-hunter Steve Irwin had died tragically from a sting-ray barb. I was sorry to hear that because he seemed like a good-natured, fun-loving guy and he seemed to do a great job emphasizing environmental issues.

On to Baldy. This is one brutal race... a death march into the sky... an average 10% grade all the way to the top. It's a tough race but it's a blast.

The race starts at the parking lot for the Baldy Ski Lift. You run downhill on pavement at a 15% grade (no exaggeration, that's what the street sign warns) for about a quarter mile, then it's all uphill. The first 4 miles are on fire roads to the top of the ski lift. The last 4 miles are up the "Devil's backbone" trail to the top.

I last ran this race in 2003 (2 weeks after running Pikes Peak Marathon). Then I ran 1:33:37. Two goals for me today: set a new PCR (personal course record) and go sub-1:30.

The race went well. The downhill pavement part was painful. I ran nearly every step of the 4 miles up the fire road (unlike in 2003 when I had to power hike some of that). There are three aid stations along the way, at miles 2, 4, 6 (although I'm not sure these are precise... but who really cares anyway on a brutal course like this). I hit aid stations in 18:57; 38:14 (19:16 for those 2 miles); 58:17 (20:02 for those 2 miles). At that point I thought I pretty much had sub-1:30 in the bag. All I needed was to run 31:42 on the last 2 miles. The problem is that the last mile is the steepest and in the thinnest air.

I held my own with the runners near me. There was a group of about 10 of us that were hanging somewhat close together. We all probably finished within a minute or two of each other. Unfortunately, that last section was just too brutal. I pushed the pace the best I could as I power-hiked up (no one was running at this point... at least as far as I could see). I was passing rocks and trees like they were standing still. My HR was absolutely racing. I finished in 1:32:31... just 20 or so seconds behind the female winner.

It took quite a while for my HR to somewhat normalize on top. I sat on top and cooled off, ate some orange slices, and drank some water. I met one of my running friends on top. She did awesome... probably top 5 finish for the women. Then she and I ran the 4 miles back down to the ski lift. We were supposed to take the ski lift back down to the parking lot... but why do that when you can run? So I ran the last 4 miles back down for a 16-mile workout (including 2 wrong turns on the way down... argh!).

Overall, another good run up Baldy. We had good weather. Not too much wind, but it was a bit sunny. I was disappointed that I didn't get under 1:30, but at least I set a new PCR for me. I haven't seen the results yet since I ran back down instead of waiting for them to be posted. I'll have to check them out online. Evidently, I finished 49th overall (#48 for the guys... they accidentally omitted #21). At least, I was in the top 10% of the 532 runners, but I still missed getting under 90 minutes. Oh well.

Oh, BTW, the reason I'm now nameless is because that mountain was kicking tail and taking names. It kicked mine and took my name.

Oregon: "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go home now."

2006-08-14T15:05:00.000-07:00

Crater Lake Marathon

Crater Lake is one amazing place. Just to visit the park is worth the trip. As a runner, it’s even better to have Rim Drive all to yourself and experience it on foot.

I normally don’t fly out of town to run a marathon. My decision to run the Crater Lake Marathon was mostly due to my left hip flexor, my cheapskate mentality, and my love of tough, scenic marathons. My injured hip flexor kept me out of the Boston Marathon this year, and I’m just too frugal to let that unused airline ticket go to waste. So Crater Lake here I come.

The Park and the Event

This was my first trip to Oregon… and I loved every minute of it. I found Oregon to be a very friendly state... they wouldn't even let me get out of the car to pump my own gas!

Some quick facts…

Crater Lake (surface elevation 6,178’) is in the caldera of Mount Mazama which collapsed in on itself roughly 7000-8000 years ago from an original height of ca. 11,000’.
The rim varies in altitude between 7,000’ to 8,929’ (Mount Scott)
Crater Lake is the deepest lake in the U.S. (ca. 1,950’ at its deepest), and the seventh deepest in the world.
The park is the fifth oldest national park in the U.S.
This is one of the few marathons run entirely in a national park.
The altitude of the course ranges from 5,980’ to 7,850’.
The marathon was mostly on paved roads (not trails) circling the lake (or about 2/3rds of 33-mile Rim Drive). A small part of it was on a dirt road, including a lovely 2-mile long, 500’-high hill around mile 22.
All 3 races start at the same time and place ("The Watchman"). Most of the great views of the lake itself are on the first half of the course when you’re relaxed and can soak it all (before the last half which requires more focus and grit).

Here’s the elevation profile (although this plot is off at the end):
Miles 0.0-14.5
Miles 14.5-26.2

My Goals and Strategy

I didn’t say a lot about my goal for this marathon in advance. I knew most marathoners ran about 20-40 minutes slower here at Crater Lake than at their PR’s. I hoped to run 3:30, but I knew that would be a stretch since I don’t live at altitude. Anything under 4:00 would be a good effort and a tough run. Even as I talked to Brian (aka Gearshift/Ridgeliner from the RW/RT online marathon forums) as we ran the first 3 miles together (he was doing the 13-mile race), I pretty much conceded 3:30 was not doable for me and I should expect something more like 3:40-3:55.

In advance, I knew there were three significant uphill sections (among many other shorter ones) that I’d have to watch out for:

The small one = miles 2.0 to 3.0 (going up about 200’ non-stop)
The long one = miles 9.6 to 14.5 (going up 1100’ from 6718’ to 7850’)
The brutal one = miles 22.3 to 24.5 (going up 470’)

When I drove the course and saw these climbs for myself on Friday, they really scared me. The long one was relentless. After going up about 2 miles, you can look up and see the road going to Cloud Cap still high above you and know that’s where you’ve still got to go. But after 14.5 miles, there’s a long stretch of downhill until you reach Lost Creek Camp around mile 22.

I decided the best strategy would be to hold back and make it to the top of Cloud Cap (7850’, the highest point on the course) at mile 14.5 without overdoing it. Then if I felt good, I could start pushing the pace more on the way to Lost Creek. I figured maybe I could run around 8:30-9:00 on the uphills and 7:30s on the downhills. Maybe.

Race Day

Cold (low 40s?) and breezy at the start, but it could have been much worse (and it was much windier when I went to the rim at sunrise on Sunday, the day after the race). All of us huddled wherever we could get out of the wind.

BTW, I think a few of the mile markers were misplaced. Mile 13 and 26 seemed too short which makes me think mile markers at 12 and 25 were too long.

Mile 1 – 7:45 (7:45) – good first mile; mix of uphill and downhill.
Mile 2 – 7:03 (14:48) – mostly downhill
Mile 3 – 8:01 (22:50) – mostly uphill
Mile 4 – 6:58 (29:48) – downhill. I can see Cloud Cap across the lake. Holy freakin’ cow, I’ve got to run over there? …and that’s only halfway?
Mile 5 – 6:55 (36:44) – downhill
Mile 6 – 7:10 (43:54) – downhill
Mile 7 – 8:16 (52:11) – some brief uphill mixed in
Mile 8 – 7:25 (59:36) – mostly downhill
Mile 9 – 7:46 (1:07:22)
Mile 10 – 8:53 (1:16:16) – starting the big climb to Cloud Cap. I have over 4:38 in the bank towards a sub-3:30. Get ready to give quite a bit of that back.
Mile 11 – 9:24 (1:25:41) – steep uphill at the start of this long 4-mile climb
Mile 12 – 9:35 (1:35:17) – still climbing. Going slow but gradually passing people.
Mile 13 – 6:49 (1:42:06) – MM must be misplaced because I didn’t run that fast on this uphill mile. End of the 13-mile race. No one but us marathoners on the road now.
Mile 14 – 8:35 (1:50:42) –This is an out-and-back spur and I realize I’m in 7th place overall.
Mile 15 – 7:50 (1:58:32) – going up to the highest point of the course and starting back down
Mile 16 – 6:54 (2:05:27) – Hello downhill!!!!
Mile 17 – 7:20 (2:12:47) – This is fun! Wow what views of southern Oregon!
Mile 18 – 7:04 (2:19:51) – Weeeeeee! Pass runner #6. I’m now in 6th.
Mile 19 – 7:14 (2:27:05) – Good bye, lake. Turn down towards Lost Creek.
Mile 20 – 6:31 (2:33:36) – Weeeeeee! Long long straightaways. I’m catching up on the 5th place runner (1st female). I’m on her heels. Uh oh, hello sidecramp. Oops, overdoing it a bit.
Mile 21 – 7:58 (2:41:35) – Ok, walk out the cramp, pick it back up, I haven’t ruined my race. I’ve got nearly 7 minutes in the bank towards 3:30.
Mile 22 – 7:23 (2:48:58) – Ok, get ready for the long steep climbs. I’ve got 7 minutes in the bank. If I can just manage 11:30 miles on the steep 2-mile hill, I can get 3:30.
Mile 23 – 7:19 (2:56:18) – get ready for the climbs
Mile 24 – 12:46 (3:08:05) – This is brutal. Walk, run, walk, run, walk, run, walk, run. Hopefully, no one else is catching up on me. I can’t imagine others are doing much better on this hill.
Mile 25 – 12:15 (3:20:21) – When will this end? So much for 3:30. Starting downhill. Ouch, calf is cramping and locking up. Ignore the pain. Run baby run!
Mile 26 – 5:35 (3:25:56) – What the heck? MM 24 must have been out of place. I didn’t think I ran 12 minutes for mile 25 which partially downhill and I certainly didn’t run sub-6 for mile 26, even with the downhill.
Finish in 3:27:02 – Turn the corner, wow, there’s the line. Yes! Mission accomplished! Wow, 6th overall out of 116 marathoners. I wasn’t expecting that high of a placing. 2nd in AG (1st was the overall winner).

Reflections

What a great event. This is definitely my kind of marathon. It’s a tough course, but very doable if you don’t obsess about your finish time.

It felt like a pretty even effort for me despite the course (splits in 1:42:51; 1:44:11). I don’t think I could have done anything much differently to finish any faster. I felt like I ran a PR on a non-PR course. I’m finally learning to be patient in the opening half of a marathon… and it felt so good to finish strong. Believe it or not, that last climb was a strong effort.

That last 2-mile hill was brutal and ugly. I had heard horror stories about it in advance. Even past champions admittted they slogged it out by having to walk some and give back some time. Most everyone of the top finishers I met admitted they had to walk some or at least jog with tiny steps. What a tough way to finish a marathon. But no complaints here. If I wanted to do something easy, I wouldn’t be running marathons.

Weather was perfect. Cold at the start but only 60s and sunny at the finish. Breezy at times, but not too much wind at all for being so high up.

Aftermath

Sitting in the mountain creek afterward felt soooooo good on my legs. We all relaxed and chatted at the finish line for quite a long time waiting to ride a bus back to our cars.

Why not eat lunch on Mount Scott (8,928’), the highest point in the park? I changed clothes, drove over to the TH, packed up my camelbak and headed up the trail. It’s only 2.5 miles to the top (and only 1300’ elevation gain). I didn’t push the pace and was on top in 40 minutes. Wow, what great views from on top. I can easily spot most of the marathon course and volcanic peaks in all directions. I can even spot Mt Shasta over 100 miles away in California. I’ve gotta come back and hike a bunch of these peaks, especially nearby Mt Thielsen (the "lightning rod of the Cascades"). What a great day!

Here's a couple of newspaper articles about this year's marathon: Klamath Falls Herald and News and Southern Oregon's Mail Tribune. Here's the official race results. At first, they incorrectly listed my time at 3:37:02 instead of 3:27:02 which is obvious by the times listed by those who finished behind me, but after several weeks the race officials corrected it. [Note: it took another 6 months to get marathonguide.com which had picked up the initial typo to correct their results so that I'm now correctly listed as 3:27:02.]

Here's my race photo which caught me mid-stride with quite a goofy-looking smile.

In 3 days time, I got to see over 700 miles of Oregon and what a beautiful state it is. I drove most of these miles on Sunday since I had a late flight and I was too sore to do anything else. (Just getting in/out of the car was painful!)

Friday, I drove down from Eugene on Hwy 58 and 97 to the north entrance of Crater Lake National Park. After driving most of the marathon course, drove 60 miles south to Klamath Falls to spend the night there (the park campgrounds were already full). K-Falls (as the locals call it) is a great little city on a Klamath Lake. Beautiful wide open farm land stretches for miles and miles with picturesque mountains as the boundaries to these lowlands.

Saturday, after the marathon and hike up Mt Scott, I camped in my new tent in the park at Mazama Campground. I was asleep by 9:30.

Sunday, I woke early (before my alarm... and sunrise). I went ahead and packed up and pulled out at 5:00am. I drove up to the rim and photographed Crater Lake with warm purples, oranges, and pinks of the pre-dawn light. I then drove Hwy 138 to Roseburg and Hwy 42 to Coos Bay on the coast (famous at the hometown of Steve Prefontaine). From there, I drove roughly 100 miles up US101 along the Oregon Coast. Absolutely beautiful scenery... morning fog, sea lions, rocky beaches, lighthouses, picturesque bridges, quaint towns, etc. After lunch in Newport, I drove through Corvallis and on up to Salem to see the capitol.

On the flight home, I had a window seat and easily spotted Three Sisters, Mt Thielsen, and Crater Lake. The pilot even treated us to a nice close up of Crater Lake by waiting to make his left bend turn until we directly over the lake so we were looking right down on it. It was really incredible to see an aerial view of the whole marathon course.

I saw quite a few interesting sights on my trip:

The pinnacles at Crater Lake which are tall (100'?) narrow spires formed by lava vents that fossilized.
The volcanic peaks of the Cascades are spectacular. Mt Thielsen (the "lightning rod of the Cascades") is very noteworthy since it sticks up like a rocky horn in a sea of trees. Mt Mcloughlin is a beautiful snow-covered cone peak south of Crater Lake. Three sisters are very impressive.
The canoes, kayaks, rafts, and fly-fishermen in the innumerable rivers, streams, and creeks of Oregon.
All the great bike paths in Oregon. There's an extended designated bike path that goes along US101 up the coast. Quite a few cyclists on extended rides since they were carrying saddlebags and extra gear. Oregon is a very cycling-friendly state.
The juggling unicyclist in Corvallis. No kidding. On a paved bike path off the road, some guy was juggling 3 basketballs (sometimes by tossing, other times by bouncing them) while going down the path on his unicycle. It was such a sight, I almost wrecked the rental car watching him.
The bull that was standing in the middle of Hwy 42 early on Sunday morning. Evidently, he had escaped his fence and a big RV was patiently waiting for the bull to move so he could drive on. They were having a motionless stare-down when I came up on them. Pretty funny to see.

This is a beautiful state. I regret that it took me 38 years before I ever visited it. I've definitely got to come back with my wife and kids so we can experience this state on a more extended trip.

On Sunday night as the pilot leveled the plane and we departed from over Crater Lake, I remembered the words of another adventurous long-distance runner, "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go home now."

A Great Time at "the Y"

2006-07-17T21:49:00.000-07:00

This is the fourth time in seven years (2000, 2002, 2004, 2006) that we have camped with family friends for a week in Yosemite at Housekeeping Camp in the valley along the Merced River. Housekeeping is a group of canvas cabins with only a few amenities such as electricity and beds. It's a step up from tent-camping without the unnecessary expenses of staying in a park hotel. IMHO, the rustic lifestyle of Housekeeping Camp (complete with campfires, easy access to the river, and close proximity to camping friends) is the best way for a family to fully experience Yosemite.

This year was our largest group yet: 9 families comprised of 16 adults, 6 teenagers, and 18 younger children. There’s never a dull moment with this group of campers. The workload is much easier also because we divide up the evening meals so that each family is responsible to cook for the entire group for only one night. That frees up our time so we don’t spend all our time cooking and cleaning every afternoon and evening.

As our kids have gotten older through the years, we’ve been able to do more and more activities. When they were 3, 2, and 1 in ages, we basically drove around, took small short walks, and hiked/biked them in kiddie carriers. They could do some easy things like throw stones in the river, cook/burn marshmallows, and swim in Mirror Lake. Now that they’re 9, 8, and 7, they’re big enough to do some more serious activities.

Here’s some highlights of this year’s trip.

Sunday
We drove 350 miles from Riverside to Yosemite via Pasadena, Bakersfield, and Fresno and then set up camp.

Monday
All five of us hiked 1½ miles up the “Mist Trail” to the top of Vernal Falls. This is a great hike because it has great views of the falls and you have an extended section through the mist in which you emerge soaking wet. At the top, you are looking down over 300’ to where the water crashes below.

At this point, the girls wanted to head back to camp so Mary Ann took them on back. But Andrew (7yo) was eager to go 2 miles further up the trail to the top of Nevada Falls. I was more than happy to go with him since I’ve been waiting for the day when he was big enough to ask me to go hiking with him. Andrew and I were joined with Dan and Nathanael (age 6) on the hike to the top.

Nevada Falls was gushing with full power from the melting mountain snow. Nevada Falls is the next falls upstream on the Merced River and nearly twice the height (594’) of Vernal Falls. We made it to the top and played safely in the water at the edge of quiet pool. Someone upstream rather unfortunately knocked a backpack into the river and it quickly went over the falls. We found out later it was carrying everything this poor hiker had, including money, credit cards, camera, and car keys. But the pack was in dangerous waters and it would have been foolish to try to get it.

On the way home, the four of us decided to take the scenic route down the John Muir Trail, making it a 7-mile loop that we completed. The John Muir Trail below Nevada Falls has wonderful sweeping views of the upper Merced River valley.

Tuesday
Thirteen of us met at 6:00am to attempt to summit Half Dome. Half Dome is one of the great classic hikes of all the National Parks. Even though the elevation is not terribly high (8,843’) compared to other peaks in this and other parks, the 4000’ drop-off from the top (including a 2000’ vertical face) is breathtaking. This 16-mile roundtrip hike is a strenuous hike and requires carrying a good bit of water and food.

As we headed up the trail to Vernal Falls, we soon divided up into three groups of 5, 3, and 5 based on our pace. Our group of five was ahead as we proceeded on up to Nevada Falls, on through Little Yosemite Valley, and up to the “staircase” which leads to the infamous cables.

The cables on Half Dome are a nerve-racking experience, but unless you’re a technical climber, every person who has ever summitted Half Dome has gone up them. Essentially, the cables are a set of 1” steel cables about a yard apart that are secured with metal poles into the side of Half Dome for the final 500’ of the ascent. Basically, the cables turn a class-5 climb into a class-3 scramble up the side of the dome.

The cables are my least favorite part of this hike because there is nothing to secure you into place other than your hands on the cables and your feet on the boards between the poles as you ascend this 45-50° slope. The rock beneath your feet is worn slick from the thousands of hikers who have climbed this route over the years. The cables are also tricky because on busy days there are lines of people ascending and descending on the same cables and at different speeds. It’s a serious workout for both the upper and lower body and a big relief to finally get up on top.

The five of us made it up to the top together. We peeked over the edge to look at the valley 4000’ below. It’s amazing how large the top of Half Dome is. Five or six football fields could easily fit on top of it. I had brought a kite along hoping to fly it on top for my kids to see from the valley below. Unfortunately, the chaotic and sporadic winds thwarted all my attempts to get it in the air.

We all relaxed, took pictures, and ate our lunches basking in the warm sunshine in the cool mountain air. The quote of the day was from Ryan, one of the teenagers in our group: “All this work, for only half a peak. Next time I want to climb a whole peak!”

As we started to descend the cables, we were thrilled to pass two more from our camp who were near the top of the cables. Unfortunately, since we were all on the cables together, we didn’t get a chance for much conversation, other than Ryan announcing loudly to his dad, “You owe me a hundred bucks” (since he had bet him he wouldn’t make it to the top). Everyone on the cables got a good laugh from that.

After we exited the cables, we descended the trail rather rapidly. Halfway down the Mist Trail, we met up with four others from our group who had made it to within 2.5 miles of the top before they turned back realizing they wouldn’t have enough daylight to complete the hike. All in all, 7 out of our initial 13 made it to the top and another 4 made it over two-thirds the way.

It was another great hike to the top, despite my dread of the cables. This was the peak that got me hooked on hiking four years ago (2002). I must admit I had forgotten how much I hate those cables until I got there. I was never more glad to get that part of the hike behind me.

When we got back to camp, I found that Mary Ann and the kids had spent much of the day at the base of Yosemite Falls. They along with a large group from camp had a blast playing for hours on the boulders and in the water.

Wednesday
This was the day for our group picture at Glacier Point (7,200’) overlooking the valley 3000’ below. Everyone drove to the top… except for me. Why drive when you can hike? I was eager to see if I could better my time on Four-Mile Trail to the top from two years ago. “Four-mile” Trail is actually a misnomer because the distance is variously posted as 4.0, 4.3, 4.6, and 4.8 miles on different maps and signs. All I know is that it’s one steep hike up 3,000+’ and 59 switchbacks (I counted them).

I biked over to the trailhead and started my charge up the trail at 10:10am. I knew I would have to push it to beat the others who were driving to the top. I had no backpack to slow me down since I was carrying only a single water bottle on the way up. I was pushing the pace on the lower parts as I would alternate running a switchback and then power-hiking the next one.

I could easily gauge my progress by looking across the valley at Yosemite Falls and see how high up I was in relation to it. I was trying hard to see if I could conquer this trail in under an hour. I pushed the pace and passed quite a few people on the way up. I hit the pavement at the top in 1:06:09. I wasn’t able to get under an hour, but I was very satisfied with a big PWR (personal world record) for me on this trail.

I ended up having to wait 40 minutes for the first of the cars from camp to arrive. It was kind of nice though because it gave me a chance to cool off in the shade and then warm back up in the sun. The others soon arrived and we had our collective group picture there, the fourth time we’ve done that through the years. It was pretty funny trying to get 40 of us together for a picture, especially since everyone wanted a shot with their own camera (which is really unnecessary since they were all digital).

After eating lunch, Mary Ann headed 8 miles down the Panorama View Trail with four other friends to the valley below. Now that’s a trail I’ve yet to hike. She got some great views of Illilouette Falls, which I’ve only seen from far in the distance. I was happy to drive the kids back to camp so she could stretch her legs on one of these great Yosemite trails.

Thursday
Since I had done a considerable amount of hiking over the past three days, I was happy to take it easy for a day. All five of us went rafting on the Merced River. That was a relaxing float. We beached on one of the sandy bends in the river so we could get out, play in the water, and skip some rocks.

Later that afternoon, we all five went for a bike ride up to the Happy Isles Visitor Center. The girls wanted to head back to camp so I went with them. Mary Ann and Andrew then continued on biking for quite a few more miles.

Friday
This past Spring, there was a large rock slide on Hwy 140 about 5 miles below the town of El Portal just outside the western gate to the park. The rock slide was so massive that the road has been closed indefinitely. The reports I have heard said that the mound of rubble is 300’ high and 600’ long. Basically, the pile is so huge that you would expect there to be a tunnel if you came upon it unknowingly. The only solution for opening access again is to build a bridge across the Merced River and allow traffic to use a service road on the other side. Eventually, a second bridge will be built so that Hwy 140 will cross the river twice in a short distance to bypass the unstable pile of rock.

On Wednesday, I talked with a cyclist who had biked down to see the rock slide the day before. He said it was a great ride because there was virtually no traffic on the road in that direction (surprise, surprise). I was very interested in biking down there to see this rock pile for myself. Mary Ann was taking the kids over to the base of Bridal Veil Falls that day with a large group from our camp.

I started about 9:40am. I figured it would take me about 2½ hours to do this 45-mile bike ride. As I was leaving the valley and descending towards El Portal, I quickly realized it might take longer to get back to camp. The road was a steep descent (three sections were posted with signs warning of 8% grades) and I went flying down the smooth pavement hitting speeds between 35-38mph with little effort at all. It was a fun descent because I had the road all to myself.

After biking 20 miles, I came to a sign that closed the road to vehicles. I went a couple of miles further to Indian Flats where I encountered another sign at the Merced River bridge that closed the road to all pedestrians and cyclists. I was disappointed to find this sign because I knew the rock slide was probably just a ¼ mile around the next bend. No one was around and I thought about going just a tad further to see the huge slide for myself, after all I had biked quite a long ways to see it. But I decided to turn around and head back. It is an active rock slide and I’m sure the road crews would not appreciate someone disobeying their clear instructions.

Disappointedly, I turned around and headed back up Hwy 140. Funny how I wasn’t flying across the pavement as effortlessly as I was a few minutes ago! I biked back into El Portal and topped off my water bottles for the long ascent back to Yosemite Valley. My bike computer indicated it would be a 2500’ ascent, not a 1400’ ascent as I had anticipated. My legs responded better than I expected on the long climbs up the road. Few cars passed me on the way back up, but that was due to the lack of traffic, not my scorching speed. The only thing scorching about my ride at that point was my tires rolling over the hot pavement in the 90º heat!

It felt great when I had made it back to the valley. Soon I was zipping along hitting speeds of 25-27mph on the gentle roads on the valley floor. I was very pleased to have completed the round trip in only 2:43 (16.7 mph) since it ended up being a much steeper ascent than I anticipated.

When I got back to camp, I found that Mary Ann and the kids were still playing over at the base of Bridal Veil Falls. I wish I had known that because I had just biked past there a few minutes earlier. I didn't stop at that time because I assumed they were already back at camp and probably waiting on me. They arrived shortly after me so we might not have hooked up over there anyway.

That afternoon we all played in the Merced River again, swimming in the cold water and skipping rocks. The water felt great on my tired legs.

Saturday
For Saturday, Mary Ann had made reservations for her and the girls to go horseback riding. Andrew wasn’t really interested and I’m too allergic to horses to even get near the stables. Andrew was eager to do one more hike so he and I along with 5 others from our camp met at 7:30am to tackle the Yosemite Falls trail. This is another one of the quintessential Yosemite hikes. This 3.4-mile trail ascends 2600’ to the top of the tallest waterfall in North America (2,425’; 5th tallest in the world).

Before coming to Yosemite on this trip, I wouldn’t have thought Andrew would be up for this hike, but after seeing him hike past Vernal Falls and on to Nevada Falls on Monday, I had little doubt that he would finish this one.

We missed the trailhead at the beginning of the hike and started up the wrong trail. This actually turned out well for us because we got to see a big black bear about 20-30 yards up the mountain ahead of us. It was no threat to us, but it was fascinating to watch as it crashed through the woods.

We then started up the correct trail which was easy to locate. This is a steep, relentless climb up an innumerable set of short switchbacks. The bottom half of the hike is shaded with tree cover. About halfway up, the trail emerges through a steep sandy section to a great scenic lookout at Columbia Rock. Then the trail descends a couple hundred feet in elevation for about a half mile under the face of a steep rock wall. At that point we emerged in full view of our first look at Upper Yosemite Falls. The size and sound of this falls is enormous. It was great to see the falls at full force because the only other time I hiked this trail (Aug 2004), the falls were bone dry. Up ahead, we could easily spot the route the trail would take us up the rocky staircase through a notch in the rock wall.

By this point, Andrew had become our pace-maker. When we stopped to rest a bit, he would be the first to hop up and start back up the trail. It was kind of funny because he was wearing a yellow shirt so we joked about him being in the “yellow jersey” (since the Tour de France was going on at this time). He was so eager to get to the top that some of the teenagers wanted to grab him and slow him down. He thought it was pretty funny.

Five of us made it to the top of the falls in 3 hours, a very good pace for a 7-year-old boy... of course, unlike the rest of us, he only has a 45-pound carcass to haul up the trail! The five of us took plenty of pictures, ate some lunch, and played for 1½ hours in Yosemite Creek at the top of the falls.

Quite a ways up from the falls itself, we actually dove into a large pool of water and walked back to the other side across a fallen tree that served as a make-shift bridge. There was no danger of being too near the falls themselves since we were so far upstream. Needless to say, the water was ice cold... cold enough to take your breath away.

As we were packing up to head back down the trail, we were thrilled to see Dan and his son Nathanael make it to the top. Nathanael is only 6 years old and he was very proud to be on top… and so was his dad.

Sunday
Instead of driving home the way we came, we decided to take the scenic route across the park to the eastern entrance at Tioga Pass. We had not been across that route in 12 years. It was a gorgeous day for the drive. We made our way past Crane Flat, Porcupine Flat, Tenaya Lake, Tuolumne Meadows, and Tioga Pass (9,948’). It was an incredible sight to see the dark blue mountain lakes, snow in July on the side of the road, and lush green high-altitude meadows.

We then made the steep descent down Hwy 120 to Lee Vining to get gas and eat lunch. We had a blast eating lunch at a local hamburger stand with the Falsettis who were traveling with us.

From Lee Vining, we made our way down the eastern side of the Sierra on Hwy 395. That has to be one of the most scenic highways in the country. You drive for 120 miles within the vicinity of all but one of California’s fifteen 14ers (only Mt Shasta in northern CA is not in this region). When we got to Lone Pine, I could easily spot Mt Whitney and its neighboring needles towering high over us. Whitney is set so far back that it doesn’t look like the highest peak at first glance, even though at 14,497’ it’s the highest peak in the 48-contiguous states. Seeing it made me want to hike it again like I did in 2003 and 2004. Come to think of it, this is the only time I’ve ever seen it when I didn’t get to hike it.

All in all, this was by far our best Yosemite trip yet. We stayed a full 7 nights. The weather was perfect (60s at night; low 80s in the day). We had a large and fun group of campers. I hadn’t anticipated hiking 35 miles and biking another 45, but it sure was fun doing it. By far, the best 14 miles were the ones with Andrew at my side. At the end of the week, he was very proud of the fact that he had reached the top of three great waterfalls and that he had hiked twice as many miles as he is old. I was very proud of him too.

My Personal “San Bernardino Mtns Trail Marathon”

2006-07-01T21:17:00.000-07:00

Back in 2003 when I was training for the Pikes Peak Marathon, I heard about a rarely attempted hike across the San Bernadino mountains called the "San Bernardino Mountains Traverse" or "the Nine Peaks." The Boy Scouts even have a patch to recognize those that have backpacked across this route (even they don’t attempt to do this in one day).

Basically, this 26-mile hike goes up 8 miles, across 10 miles, and then down 8 miles. You start at the Vivian Creek TH (6,080’) just above Forest Falls. From there, you ascend 5,400’ up an 8-mile trail to the peak of Mount San Gorgonio (aka, "Old Grayback" due to its large barren top). San Gorgonio is the highest peak in Southern California (11,500’). From the peak of SanG, you take a 10-mile trail west across the ridgeline that leads you to the following eight other peaks:

Jepson (11,205’)
Little Charlton (10,676’)
Charlton (10,806’)
Alto Diablo (10,563’)
Shields Peak (10,701’)
Anderson Peak (10,864’)
San Bernardino East Peak (10,691’)
San Bernardino Peak (10,649’)

The 10-mile trail across the ridge dips only as low as 10,000’ at Dollar Lake Saddle between Charlton and Alto Diablo. From San Bernardino Peak, you then descend 5,700’ down an 8-mile trail to the Angelus Oaks TH (5,960’). This makes it a 26-mile trek and what a trek it is since half of it is at 10,000’ or higher.

But the day isn’t over yet for me. Since I’ve done this hike solo, I leave my bike at the Angelus Oaks TH so I can get back to my vehicle at the Vivian Creek TH. It’s a 10-mile bike ride, but a tough one. The first 6 miles are all downhill (no pedalling required), but the last 4 miles go up 1400’. The quads just don’t want to cooperate at that point of the day. So the entire circuit is roughly 36 miles (26 hiking and 10 more biking).

One of the toughest things about this hike is carrying enough liquids. In 2003 when I did this hike, I took 5 quarts and that was barely enough. Knowing it was supposed to be a very hot day today, I took 8 quarts this time (and used all of it by the time I finished biking). That’s 16 pounds of liquids alone as I start up the steepest part of the hike (the first mile above Vivian Creek). That’s a lot of weight to lug up and across all these mountains, but there’s little water on the trail and you definitely don’t want to be under-hydrated.

In 2003 when I did this hike, I actually "bagged" all Nine Peaks and signed the log books for all of them (except Alto Diablo which I never found). Today, I was only interested in hiking 26 miles (preparing for the Crater Lake Marathon in August) so I technically only bagged 3 of the peaks and signed those log books (San Gorgonio, San Bernardino East, and San Bernardino). I was within just a couple of hundred feet of the other peaks, but I didn’t take the extra time to bag those. I just stayed on the main traverse trail.

In 2003, the entire power-hike/trail-run across all nine peaks took me 9 hours, 40 minutes total. Today, I finished the hike almost a full hour faster (8 hours, 48 minutes). Most of this is due to the fact that I didn’t take the extra time to bag six of the peaks, and also I intentionally was trail-running more this time than last.

Today, I was actually 30 minutes slower getting to the first peak (San Gorgonio) than in 2003. Part of this was due to the fact that I lost the trail for about 10 minutes after crossing Mill Creek. But shortly thereafter a very unexpected event happened that caused me to lose more time.

After I had crossed Mill Creek and had just started up the trail (even before the first major switchback), I looked up to find a huge black bear walking up the trail ahead of me about 20-30 yards. I was only about a half mile into the hike and thought, Oh great, what do I do now? Well, I watched him slowly lumber his way up the trail (he was definitely a full-grown adult) and I looked to see if there were any cubs (you certainly don’t want to mess with momma and the cubs!), but I didn’t spot any. (A picture of the bear’s big rear-end will be posted shortly.)

The bear went around the bend, never knowing I was there. I waited a few minutes and slowly went up the trail and carefully went around the same bend… not wanting to meet the bear face to face! I saw him exiting the trail at the first switchback. I let him go on his merry way. When I got to that switchback, I looked down below and saw the bear looking up at me about 30 yards away. He didn’t move. He just watched and I went hiking up the trail… with a very high heartrate.

Since it was a Saturday, I saw quite a few people on the trails today… actually on all parts of the trails. I asked those that had come up from Vivian Creek if they saw the bear, but none of them had. I did talk to a guy on San Berardino peak who saw a bear near there last week when he hiked SanG. Probably the same bear (hanging out near the campgrounds for scraps).

After that unexpected encounter less than a mile into my hike, the day went along very smoothly. I had great weather (a few fluffy clouds to block some sunshine, but no threat of thunderstorms). There was little wind… just enough to keep me cool, but not enough to blow my hat off. My body responded well to the hike, but I did end up with a couple of blisters (nothing too unusual). It was a long day to say the least, and it’s good to be home.

I couldn’t help but think as I hiked today that a bunch of runners in Leadville, Colorado were also going 26 miles today, but all of their course was above 10,000' (and as high as 13,180’). Yes, the Leadville Trail Marathon was being held today. That was on my mind because that’s high on my to-do list for next summer (no pun intended). I guess I’ll have to do my own personal San Bernadino Mtns Trail Marathon again next summer to prep for that… but hopefully without the company of a bear.

Idyllwild 10K - "No way. Impossible."

2006-06-03T13:16:00.000-07:00

Idyllwild 10K. This is a small local race in the artsy mountain community of Idyllwild in the San Jacinto mountains. It's a fun little town to visit with plenty of restaurants and village shops. Idyllwild is well known in SoCal for its arts and music interests. It's a friendly little town with lots of free spirits.

I didn't have personal high expectations for this race because I didn't back off on my training coming into it. I've run hard every other day for 2 weeks now with no breaks. This week alone I ran an 8.6-mile tempo run on Sunday, 20.2 miles on Tuesday, and 5x800m & 5x400m on TM on Thursday and 6-mile easy runs in between. This 10K today (Saturday) gave me 60.0 miles total for the week, my highest weekly mileage in 3 months.

I chose to do this race to test my fitness level on tough hills in thin air (5100'-5600') for my run at the Crater Lake Marathon in August. The only other time I ran this race was 3 years ago when I was prepping for the Pikes Peak Marathon that August. I ran 44:49 then. My only goal today was to finish under that time. I wasn't even sure if I could do that since I didn't taper any coming into this race. My legs felt like jelly when I ran an easy 4-mile recovery run yesterday.

This course is tough. It descends from 5300' to 5100' in the opening 2 miles. Then it climbs non-stop from 5100' to 5600' from the 2 MM to the 5 MM. Then it drops from 5600' to 5300' in the last 1.2 miles. Here's the elevation profile. (Note: the course is 6.21 miles, I didn't trace the route quite correctly.)

I thought about running the 5K race before the 10K in order to make it a longer run in the thin-air and the hills, but I finally decided to run hard just for the 10K.

We had cool (65°) but sunny weather in the mountains. There were plenty of trees to provide shade. The race started promptly on time (7:45am; 30min after the 5K start). As we were running downhill from town, I quickly found myself in 6th place overall.

Mile 1 in 6:11. Ok, that's 13 seconds faster than the opening mile in my 2003 race here, but I don't feel like I'm overdoing it.

Mile 2 in 6:27. Ok, that's more like it. Only 3 seconds faster for that mile than my 2003 race. Still going downhill. I'm now in 3rd place overall. I hope I'm not over doing it, but my HR and breathing are still fine. Turn the corner. Wow, there's the race vehicle and the lead runner up there about 200m. Here comes three miles of non-stop uphill climbs.

Mile 3 in 7:08. That's 29 seconds faster than my 2003 race. Wow, I'm feeling fine. I'm not overexerting myself. I've got 2 more miles of this climb to go. I'm now running side by side with the guy in second place. This is surreal.

Mile 4 in 7:32. That's 29 seconds faster than my 2003 race. These climbs are relentless, but I'm still feeling fine. I'm fully in 2nd place. I'm gapping the third place guy. This is unbelievable. I can see the race leader ahead. I'm gaining on him. He's only 100m ahead. Now he's only 50m ahead. Wow, I'm side by side with him. I say, "Man, these hills are tough. We've still got another half mile of this to go." I gradually pull ahead of him. I'm not sure how close to me he is. I can't hear his breathing or his footsteps. These hills are the steepest of the course, super steep. My quads are starting to ache. Keep pushing. Just a little more to the top. Turn the corner. Start downhill. There's the 5 MM.

Mile 5 in 7:44. Normally, that would be a super-slow split, but that's a good time on the steepest mile of the race. That's 52 seconds faster than that same mile in 2003. Hello downhill!!

As I turned the corner, I realized I've gapped the second place guy by about 50m. Holy freakin' cow, I could possibly win this race! I've never won my age-group in a race, yet alone the whole shootin' match! Surely, this guy is going to overtake me on these downhills. He was faster than me on the opening two miles of downhills. He might have been running conservatively on the uphills to surge at the end. I'd better run like I stole something. I'm on the verge of cramping up. Just keep running. It's not far now.

Mile 6 in 5:43. Holy freaking cow! I just ran a sub-6 mile. I turn the corner which doubles back onto the 10K course. I glance back to see if I spot the guy behind me. A runner in the opposite direction yells, "Just keep running. He's not in sight." Holy freaking cow! I'm going to win! I'm going to win! Are you kidding me? Some runners in the opposite direction cheer me on. I yell back to them, "What do I do? I've never won a race before in my life!" They yell back, "Just follow that truck and keep on running!"

Finish in 42:00. First place overall! I come racing across the line full sprint with a huge smile and my arm in the air whooping and hollering. This is surreal. Surely, I didn't win, did I! (You did, and please stop calling me, "Shirley.")

I cannot believe what I've just done. I wasn't being modest when I set a goal of 44:49. But I felt fine and I was able to push it hard at the end. Wow, this is unreal. Where's a phone? I gotta call my wife!

I call my wife (who was home and under the weather today). I'm talking rapid-fire in the phone, and even though she doesn't feel well, she's so happy for me and just as surprised as I am. She puts our son (7yo) on the phone. I tell him that I won! I explain to him that I won overall, that I came in first place. He's speechless and I hear my wife laughing in the background. Finally, he says, "No way. Impossible." My wife gets on the phone and tells me that his expression was just priceless as he stood there just shocked.

You have to realize that this is the same boy that 3 years ago saw me finish a 5-mile race in Winter Park, Colorado. I ran my heart out and cramped up in the thin air (9000'). I struggled across the line in something like 20th place (I was thrilled) and my son looked very solemn and simply remarked, "I'm sorry, Dad. You lost." I laughed and laughed and laughed because it was one of those priceless moments. He honestly expected me to win which was funny to me because I've never come close to winning a race in my life. I guess I taught him too well that I didn't win races because today he didn't believe me.

I stick around for the awards ceremony and got a nice ceramic medal for first place which has an arts and craft type of look, very characteristic of Idyllwild. I also got a gift certificate to a nice Idyllwild restaurant. My wife and I will enjoy that. And I got a nice glass coffee mug.

What a day. In my wildest dreams, I didn't expect to place in the top 5 or even the top 10. But some days everything just falls into place. Everything.

As you probably realize, with a winning time of 42:00, there weren't many people in this race. I doubt you'll believe me if I told you that there were thousands and I smoked all the Kenyans. I doubt you'll believe me if I said there were hundreds. For the record, there were 58 participants in the 10K. I certainly didn't expect to win because the course record is 36:54. I guess I need to thank all the fast runners in SoCal for sleeping in today or choosing other races so I could have my 15 minutes of fame.

I also should mention that the second place runner actually ran the 5K prior to the 10K. It easily would have been a different race if I had done that or he had not.

The best part of the day was when I got home. My three kids had all made signs and decorated the living room. "Go Daddy" "First Place!" and my favorite "1st Place Wining [sic] Daddy!" (Am I really a whiner? Don't answer that.) My son made a gold medal out of paper to hang around my neck. I took a victory lap around the house with the kids whooping and hollering. What a day.

Of course, now I've gotta go back and run this race next year again. I can't pass up the opportunity to wear Bib #1!