Thursday, July 14, 2016

Pre-pics

On a less solemn pre-race note, I thought I'd post some pictures from our training and acclimation runs during our visit to Colorado.



It all started rather awfully with Harry, Martina and I arriving from sea level on Saturday, July 2nd to stay at Beat and Jill's place only to be cajoled into a 26 mile "run" the next day. The Pawnee-Buchanan Loop starts at 10,500ft and has over 7,000ft of climbing crossing three high passes (12,500ft, 11,800ft and 11,300ft). Needless to say, it was quite the "shock to the system" for us flatlanders.

Harry looks very happy up here at 12,000ft
However, at least the loop offered no shortage of awesome scenery to distract us from the misery of low-oxygen adventures. Once over the first pass, the views were pretty much continuous



It also had numerous waterfalls


and more than a few snow fields to cross



We managed to finish the loop, very slowly, and not without a bit of drama trying to make our way over the final pass. Despite the struggles it was probably a pretty good way to kick-start our systems into getting used to the altitude.

We made the 4th of July a pretty relaxed day with our only adventure being a stroll around part of Beat's 35 acre property. By "stroll" I mean bushwhacking and near crawling up steep slopes. I've had to work remotely during my time here so getting out for anything significant during the week was hard. However, where Beat lives up above Boulder, there are no shortage of trails right out his door so hitting a couple of peaks during the week wasn't too much trouble.

The Flatirons


We headed up Bear Peak via the Fern Canyon trail which only went up to around 8,300ft, but first dropped down to 6,300ft before making the 2,000ft climb to the summit in 1.4 miles.

Start of the run goes by a sign that says no "jogging" which was funny

Harry and Beat discussing something before the big climb
Beat chilling at the top
Obligatory summit selfie 
Harry making his way to the peak

We hung out at the peak for a bit, but I did have to get back to Beat's to work so I headed down before all five of us made it to the top. The next day I joined Jill in the evening heading up Green Mountain so we could meet Beat on his run home from work. It was a bit more mellow and shorter run, but I have to say that it is a pretty sweet commute that Beat has.

Didn't take any pictures from the run, but it's the peak on the left in this picture from Beat's house
We did another very short run at Walker Ranch which is a beautiful little trail less than a mile from Beat's house. After that we took some rest until Saturday where the plan was to do around 15 miles round trip hitting James Peak at just over 13,000ft. Beat had come down with a bit of a stomach bug so it was just Jill, Martina, Harry and I on this run. It was a more mellow trail and a lot more mellow pace as Harry and I stuck together and then took multiple long breaks waiting on Jill and then Martina. Spending rest time at 11, 12 and then 13,000ft was probably pretty good for our acclimation and didn't beat either of us up too much. We bounded down the final bit of trail back to the car which was rocky, rooty and loads of fun.

We waited by this nice alpine lake as our first stop
We waited for Martina at the top of a very steep climb then Harry went and met her for the final bit enabling this photo op
The peak isn't especially spectacular, but the views in the distance were excellent and the weather perfect
Sunday morning we had an early morning wake up to drive back to Denver and catch flights, Martina for home and Harry and I down to Silverton. For the days leading to the race we would stay at 9,300ft where the race starts. We met up with a few other friends doing the race on Sunday, but mostly rested and got used to the air a little higher up.

On Monday we decided to do a short (but steep, everything here is steep) hike part-way up the final climb of the race. This started at Cunningham Gulch (around mile 90 in the race) in the race and gained 1000ft in the first 0.8 miles. We continued on up to around 12,500ft and hung out for a bit before returning to the car.

I like this shot where Harry appears to be sitting on a flower!

The pass behind my head is what will come over first before making this climb sometime late Saturday

I was still trying to get as much work done in the week before the race as I could and we also didn't want to push ourselves too much so we only planned one more real jaunt up to higher ground. On Tuesday we headed out to Grouse Gulch which is close to mile 60 in the race and the start of the climb up to Handies Peak over 14,000ft. We will likely be doing this sometime early Saturday morning (hopefully very early). We decided not to go all the way up to the summit, but headed over the 13,000ft pass into American Basin where we sat and enjoyed our lunch.

View heading up
Harry coming up the trail
Lake part way up
We had to share our lunch spot
It really was a pretty nice lunch spot

We spent the next couple of days just resting in town, taking care of pre-race business and getting more work done (for me). It's now the night before the race and whether the preparation I've done is enough will play out over the next couple days. The weather has warmed up which generally isn't good for me, but the evenings have been quite cool. I will just try to take it as easy as possible during the warmth of the day and try to move well in the cooler temps. No matter what, I will try to enjoy my time in the mountains and make the best of this experience called Hardrock.

Race web site link
Tracking website to follow my progress (#46)

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Fading passions



In the days before, my thoughts sometimes turn inwards...

I'm sure it may seem a bit odd that I'd be sitting here a couple days before the start of the Hardrock 100  writing about something that may sound the exact opposite of pre-race excitement. It isn't that I'm not looking forward to the run. It's just that there's been a growing ambivalence in my feelings towards more traditional ultramarathon races over the past few years. Perhaps it can be traced back to my thoughts after my first finish of the ITI 350 more than 3 years ago. So much has transpired since that time and there are other areas of my life that need a bit of focus.

With that said, I really cannot say that my enjoyment of traveling long distances on foot, spending time in wild places and undertaking challenging adventures is any less than it's ever been. I am signed up in ITI for next year, but I do put that event in a category by itself. Also, my motivation for that race is something I will probably spend the next 6 months examining. I suppose what I'm saying is that this seems somewhat of a turning point and Hardrock feels, in some ways, more a bookend than a progression.

However, Hardrock itself is unique in it's own right. It stands alone not only in ruggedness, beauty and challenges, but—more than any other 100 miler in the US—it feels like a journey rather than a race. Just spending time out in these mountains feels pretty special and being able to complete such a journey is a privilege as much as it is an accomplishment. Last year's run was a bit of a downer both for the mental state in which I entered and the illness that overtook me during the last 25 miles. It was an emotional journey that should have culminated in feelings of either elation or somber contemplation, but instead I just felt sick.

Yet, I did finish as I seem to do more often than I probably have any reasonable right to and somehow I managed to be selected to give it another go. So, I'm going to make the best of this journey that I can. I even managed to do something resembling training. I'm in my second week in Colorado acclimating. After a week staying with my friend Beat at 7,200ft and taking a few trips up higher, I've been in Silverton since Sunday getting a bit more altitude before the start. Last, but certainly not least, Harry is with me. After around 100 ultras and at least 30 of those 100 miles or longer, I am going to have a pacer for the first time. I obviously don't need a pacer, but I do want my friend to experience these trails and, frankly, I want to share the experience.

So, despite all the seemingly contradictory emotions smouldering about inside me, I am actually pretty excited to get out there.






In the waning light of my desire, perhaps a new spark can be lit.

Sunday, May 29, 2016

Scrambled Legs

Going up Miwok Trail from Rodeo Valley then left onto Wolf Ridge, just as you hit the road there's a trail heading steeply down to the right going to Tennessee Valley that I like to call "The Leg Beater". Not only is it one of the few trails that hasn't been "improved" in the area (so it still has lots of rocks and uneven terrain), it also descends 800ft in a little over a mile, most of that in a 1/2 mile section about mid-way down. I've gone down this trail numerous times as part of some of my normal Headlands' routes and Harry and I did a run that went up it a couple weeks ago. However, last Wednesday I did the run down and then back up it and decided it was going to be part of my Hardrock training, whatever that may be.

Anyone who knows me well is aware of my distaste for formal training. But, Hardrock is a beast. Aside from heading to Colorado 2 weeks before the race, some sort of "specific" training is probably prudent if I don't want to just squeak by with less than 45 minutes to spare like I did last year. There's still too much snow in Tahoe, so I can't really get any significant runs in at altitude yet. The only other thing I can do right now is try to work on my hill climbing (and hope some endurance carries forward from the Ultra Fiord).

Last week after the down-and-back to Tennessee Valley via "Leg Beater",  I hit up the full PG&E trail at Rancho after work the next evening. I was heading to Tucson for the weekend to visit my son who just finished his undergraduate degree at UofA so I was limited for time. However, I endeavored to get up early while I was there and check out some runs in the mountains outside Tucson.



I got up early Saturday morning and drove up towards Mt. Lemmon. Since we were to spend the day car shopping I only managed a short run starting around 7000ft and topping out at 8000ft. It ended with less than 5 miles and was more hike than run including some scrambling and route finding which made it longer time-wise than expected.


After finally finish the car purchase at 10pm and doing a bit of celebrating after, it was pretty tough getting up Sunday morning, but I managed to drag myself out and head 45 minutes south to Madera Canyon. The run up to Mt. Wrightson goes from around 5400ft to 9400ft in 5.3 miles. Those miles were slow going and took me 2 solid hours, but at least I had fun making it back down the rocky, winding trail in 1/2 that time.



While the total miles for the week wasn't much over 30 miles, it did count for well over 9000ft of climbing which still makes it reasonable Hardrock-grade training.

It's hard for me to schedule in much trail time during the week other than Wednesdays when I work from home so I decided to try to make the best of it. I thought I'd give a shot at motivating myself to do some repeats on "Leg Beater". After the up and over from Miwok I manage to coax myself through three repeats up that middle bit. It is definitely a grind, but it is pretty nice to add 500ft to the total climb count every 1/2 mile. The run came out to just over 9 miles with 3000ft of climbing. Do that 11 times and you've got Hardrock....only at sea level...sigh.

The hills did seem to pay off as the ascents seemed a bit easier than normal on my two runs this weekend even if they only totalled about 6000ft over 30 miles. However, I did manage to hit 55 miles for the week which is around where I want to be at this point.

Hopefully I can get up to Tahoe at least once or twice in the next month. Either way, we'll see if I can mentally manage a few more repeats each week. Not much time left so I guess I better just get out the beater and scramble some legs!

Saturday, May 07, 2016

A few words

This is not a race report. I'm not quite sure what it is, or rather what it will become. I don't really feel a strong desire to "resurrect" this blog, but I do want to write some words about my time in Patagonia. However, given the focus of most of my recent writing, I cannot promise it won't devolve into self-indulgent navel-gazing.

Caveat lector.

I'll try to include some of the few photos I took. So there's something.

It's been over 10 years since I first visited Patagonia and I've always wanted a reason to return, especially to Puerto Natales and the region around Torres del Paine. The Ultra Fiord race offered an attractive excuse. It was billed as wild, rugged and sparsely supported. Right up my alley especially since I've been feeling less and less inspired by races closer to home. Also, my friend Harry had never been to the area so we (Harry, Martina and I) decided to make a vacation of it. Harry and I planned to tackle the 100 miler while Martina would do the 70K.

Aside from the race and plans for some hiking/sightseeing the timing of the event coincided with an unhappy personal anniversary so I was also hoping for a bit of a diversion. This fact, more than any pre-race concerns probably explained my edginess during the early part of the trip (it certainly explains spending Wednesday afternoon in my room shedding tears). But, inevitably, as race day rolled around all concerns narrowed to just that one.

These days I tend to feel pretty calm once start time finally rolls around. It's not that I've become blasé about it, or think I've got it all "figured out". On the contrary, my experience has taught me to be keenly aware of all that can go wrong. It's more a feeling that the time for worry is past since all the preparation has (or has not) been done and things are going to play out as they will. My only job (over the next 30 hours or so) is to take care of those few things that are within my control: eating, drinking, staying warm and metering out my energy at a rate sufficient to keep me moving forward over the miles ahead.

Overall, the event went well enough for me. Anyone who has read about the event knows that a runner died of hypothermia during the event and I really don't have much to add of substance to all that has been written. I felt "relatively" comfortable given my experience in remote regions and extreme conditions. I had the gear I felt necessary to manage the conditions as best possible. The only thing I can say is that while it is always easy to second-guess what might have been different after the fact, it is true that the race organization did leave itself open to much of the criticism that it has received. Though they did shorten the races, all went over the high pass in severe weather conditions, there was no checking of mandatory gear, checkpoints were minimal or even non-existent, and there didn't seem to be emergency personnel or contingency evacuation plans which seem prudent given the type of event it was.

However, during the race, we were not overly aware of all these issues. Harry and I have both done some pretty extreme and minimally-supported events. We did what we knew how to do. We started at the back with maybe 4-5 people behind us as everyone took off at a pace that seemed way to fast for 100 (or even 88) miles. We came into the first aid station after a short bit of course confusion even further back and then started passing people. We hooked up with fellow American Kate Woodard and came into the 50K aid station around 54th place (out of around 90 starters) and would eventually finish in 31st (out of 67 finishers). The course was tough and technical with lots of overgrowth, rocks, roots and steep climbs. The conditions were severe with high winds, snow, sleet and frozen rain over the high pass followed by miles of unavoidable mud  and ankle turning peat bogs. Support was minimal especially after the first 30 miles and even more than advertized. But, it was–as promised–remote and amazingly beautiful.

With all that, probably the toughest part was the midnight start. We ran through the night, slogged through the day and then trudged and stumbled through the second night to the finish. Harry and I stuck together for almost the entire event which always makes it seem less like a race and more like a shared experience. However, after the last real aid station, the final 24 miles were easy dirt road, but mentally as brutal going as anything in the race. The second night without sleep is always unseemingly tough.

There was a missing aid station and the "sleep monster" had me by the throat. Harry was moving well and seemed motivated to get to the finish as he was very worried about Martina, this being a significantly tougher course than anything she had ever attempted. I finally couldn't take it so I dropped back, put on all my extra clothing and sat by the trail to take a 10 minute nap. When the crazed images had finished running through my mind, I forced myself up and stumbled on. I was still falling asleep on my feet, but apparently moving faster. I started to pass people. That finally woke me out of my zombie-like stupor. I moved even faster and even started to jog. Everytime I saw a light ahead of me I thought it might be Harry, but when it wasn't I reasoned that he had kept moving along due to his concerns and the fact that there was no real shelter from the 30-mph winds and near-freezing temperatures.

After stopping very briefly at the last aid station (basically a table with water and a couple of cookie packages), I was motivated to just get this thing done. I alternated running and walking for the final 12 miles. I probably passed 7 other runners all in various states of the infamous ultramarathon "death march'. The final miles were especially tough as you could see the lights of Puerto Natales from a long way off–too long a way off. I tried to run the whole way, but just couldn't manage it, mentally more than physically. Eventually I made it into town, wandered my way to the finish area and found the one person there recording times before heading back to our place.

I thought Harry was there at the gate as I approached, but it was some other random person outside at 6:30am. When I made it to our cabin, I opened the door to see Martina who was freshly showered. My brain wasn't working right in terms of realizing that she would have had plenty of time to finish and get back to town via boat/bus so I first asked if she finished. Then I immediately asked "where's Harry?"

Martina was certain I was joking and replied, "very funny, where is he? outside?"

I then looked at her concerned, "No! He should have finished at least 20 minutes ago."

Concern then worry set in, but I had already let my mental guard down giving my body permission to slipping into recovery mode. I was in no condition to go wandering around town. I showered while Martina went to figure out what had happened. Eventually, she returned with Harry in tow.

Apparently, he had actually tried to wait for me. He was probably even at the vicinity of the final aid station trying to find a sheltered place to sit when I (quickly) went through. True friend that he was, he must have sat waiting and worrying about both me and Martina even while we were both safe and warm in the cabin. It's especially unfortunate because Harry is generally a much faster runner than me, but I do tend to out last him in the really long stuff (i.e. 100+ miles). However, this is one where I thought he had–and he rightfully should have–finished before me.

In the end, as I said before, all went well in this race for me...and my friends.

OK, so this was already many more words than I had intended to post and I suppose there is actually something resembling a race report in there. So, as promised,  here are some pictures from our time before, during and after the race down at the bottom of the civilized world.

Very cool forest on the hike up to Mirador Cerro Derrota a few days before the race.

Martina coming out of the woods during Cerro Derrota hike.

View from Mirador Cerro Derrota

Harry and Martina at the top

View from town looking out onto the water
Out the window of a coffee shop in Puerto Natales

...and some other things around town:



"Real Jeep"
Martina's "place"

Homer?
Kitty in the pet food aisle

H & M being cute!



Here's what I have from the race it isn't much due to the midnight start, the weather, the technical trail and the amount of time spent in the woods:

Start picture from the race organization

Lots of fall colors on the trees

Approaching the high point as it starts to snow

Beautiful view up top just before heading into the storm

"Trail" looking back

"Trail" looking forward

Not sure if this is the glacier we were supposed to come over or not


It's not obvious, but the wind was blowing around 30 mph here at times

Finally into the descent which was basically a mud-slide not shown here

Cold, but pretty...

...but, cold!

Harry just coming off the pass and into the woods which amounted to about 15 miles of mud
When there wasn't mud, there were these peat bogs that look innocent, but definitely were not. 

Mostly, though, there was mud...so....much...MUD!!!

After the race, and a day of recovery, we headed out to Torres del Paine for a couple days. We stayed in a cool hotel on Lago Pehoé and then did the 12 mile classic hike up to the towers.

Salto Grande near our hotel
We did a short 4-mile hike, but the weather and views weren't great

Wet and cloudy during our short hike to view Los Cuernos


Our hotel on an island the next morning in better weather and a great view

Lago Pehoé

Making the hike up to Los Torres
Through the woods...

...past the falls...

...and through meadows with the first hint of the towers.

Martina and Harry in front of Lago Torres

Classic pic in the classic local


Similar spot, 10 years earlier