Bristlecone Pines and Boiling Water on White Mountain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!