Viva la Vida en Las Vegas

Yep, I've been livin' the life. Unfortunately, its the life of a trail runner trapped in the concrete prison of suburban Las Vegas. We've been staying in a condominium a couple of miles off The Strip. We are here for my son's basketball tournament. I've been getting up in the mornings and hitting the roads to get in some miles before the temps hit triple digits. We are in the southwest part of town where there is still a little space for the sprawl to continue. The only good thing for running here is that the roads are wide and some even have bike lanes. In a few places the sidewalks are not yet done so I was actually able to get my feet in some dirt. Aside from the tournament, my wife's friend, Charters, came in from Kentucky to stay with us. She'd never been to Vegas before (or even in a casino) so we, of course, had to head out on the town.

Here we are ready to hit The Strip (yes, a rare photo of me in non-running clothes)...


...and the inevitable result.


I think this was supposed to be photo evidence that she literally drank me under the table. I really just fell asleep there beneath the coffee table; I swear! Needless to say, I didn't manage to get my run in the next morning. I wasn't hungover, but I was pretty tired from a couple late-night/early-mornings in a row. That and the fact that the temperature read 100 degrees at 1am when we returned to the condo made the idea of a 6am jaunt around the neighborhood a bit uninviting.

The tournament ended a little early on Saturday as Freddy's team was knocked out in the second round of bracket play. The team actually did pretty well given the level of competition from all over the country at this tournament and Freddy played very well overall. The free time allowed us to take Charters on a tour of some of the great sites on the outskirts of the Vegas area such as Lake Meade and the Hoover Dam and, my favorite, Red Rocks Canyon.

If you haven't been to Red Rocks you should definitely check it out. It is one of the great sites of the southwest desert. Beautiful and bizarre sandstone formations. You can hike or run or climb or just scramble around on the rocks. On Saturday we just walked around and took pictures.

This is the Calico Hills area.






I decided to take the opportunity for a little foot strengthening going barefoot for our walk and scramble.



The variation of rock formations and coloring is amazing here.







In fact, we like it here so much that on Sunday, after taking Charters back to the airport, Zane and I decided to head back out to the rocks for a hike. That last photo is of Turtlehead Peak which was the destination we chose since Zane said she wanted to try something strenuous. We sort of got more than we bargained for as it climbs about 2000ft in under 2.5 miles and because you are in the desert it is easy to forget that you are starting out at around 4400ft to begin with.

It starts along a nice flat and wide trail.


But, eventually, you know its going to have to start heading up pretty dramatically.


You can start to see over the whole valley as you ascend



The average grade of the whole hike is about 16%. However, the second half is more like 20% and the final 3/4 of a mile is an average 27% grade. A little past a mile an a half into the hike, my wife, who started the day tired to begin with, told me to go head up to the peak and take some pictures. She wasn't feeling great, so was going to head down in a bit. I should try to catch her on my way down.

With that, I pushed towards the peak and boy did it get steep.


The views were quite dramatic and well worth the effort.







From the very top, you could see further peaks in the distance beyond the next valley.


You could see the whole Vegas basin and The Strip


And, of course, Red Rocks in all its glory




This is the route via which we came



Since I had been told to catch her, I took off down this thing a lot faster than prudence would have allowed. I did the last .75 miles to the peak (over 1000ft) in about 30 minutes. I came down the same section in 17 minutes, but the distance was more a fair bit less since I lost trail on numerous occasions and had to resort to some precarious down-climbing before I could regain it.
Eventually, I returned to the flat section of trail along the side of the strange and interesting rock formations.




I found Zane relaxing in the shade of a big rock, much further down than I expected. She said she felt much better once she started the descent and made pretty good time. We ended the day hiking back out of the valley at a relaxed pace together.



While my overall mileage for the week was pretty low, it was great to get in this short intense hike and I always enjoy being out at The Rocks. Zane and I agreed that next time we come to Vegas we will plan to head out here more and do a number of hikes as there are many interesting trails leading around the rocks, into canyons and just around the valley floor.

Despite its reputation, there are some great outdoor opportunities in Vegas. If you can enjoy both the exciting night life and the amazing desert scenery in the same trip then, as far as I'm concerned, it really is "living the life."

Son of a Peleus

I'm sitting at the bottom of my stairs looking down at my shoes. Brooks. Adrenaline. GTS. 8. Seems like am awful lot of names. I retired my last pair of the 7s after Bighorn. A little early in terms of mileage, but I figure they'd earned their keep. The newer models fit pretty much the same. With only 30 miles on these ones so far they feel pretty fresh. I'm staring at them thinking how good it feels to have my feet back in a pair of running shoes after two full weeks off. The custom orthotics forming fitted to the soles of my feet. The snug fit in the heel. Just enough space in the front to wiggle my toes, but not so much that they don't feel supported. It feels good. Really good. I'm about to go out for a run with my wife. Her training has stalled the last couple of weeks mostly due to work, but its time to get it back on track for her 1/2 marathon at the end of August. I will also be testing my Achilles tendon on this run. Walking has felt fine for the past week, but I forced myself to wait in order to test it on any sort of run longer than a hallway. The memory of hobbling through those final 5+ miles of my last 100 still sits firmly in my mind.

Those last, long, slow two hours to the finish line are certainly not my best race memory ever. They've also kept the usual "post-race amnesia" from wiping away all the bad bits that normally occur over the course of an ultra and retaining just the highlights of another great experience. This is not to say that there weren't some incredible parts of the Bighorn 100. In fact, I would have to classify it as the most scenic race I have ever done. There were a lot of things that didn't quite go as I had hoped, but the beauty of the course is unsurpassed by any other race I've done. So, rather than dwell on the altitude issues, stomach pains, intestinal distress and various slips, slides and falls of the race, I am going to try to portray the best aspects of this amazing mountain 100. It shouldn't be too hard since I actually remembered to bring my camera for once and took pictures at least during the first day.

Since the race started on Friday morning rather than the traditional Saturday, I flew out on Thursday. I met up with Catra very early Thursday morning to carpool to the airport. We were on different flights, but Andy (her bo) and I would fly into Montana together where all three of us would hook up for the drive down to Sheridan, Wyoming. In Sheridan we had to check in, weigh in and get our drop bags finalized and turned in.



Checked in, bags sorted and labeled, meet and greet other runners at the traditional pasta dinner and then we headed to Dayton where we would stay closer to the race start. The weather gave us a little tease as the skies opened up at our hotel.



Luckily, come the next morning, the sky was nice and blue.



The rain would just assure that the mud and slush up higher on the course would be nice and fresh for us. The race begins at a leisurely 11am so we had plenty of time for breakfast and then waiting around at the start.



The course begins along side the Tongue River which was raging quite heavily. Luckily, the only crossings of this beast would be via bridges.



However, there would be plenty of smaller streams to jump over, step over or simply slosh on through as the course continues into the wild well beyond the initial fire trail where it starts.



Soon enough, this empty road would be filled with runners, shuffling along at their normal 100-mile starting paces.



I try to start slow as I know there will be plenty of climbing before our first real downhill. Soon enough we turn off the road and the conga-line up the first bit of single track begins.



I take the opportunity to snap photos of those in front and behind me...



...as well as the amazing beauty that this area has to offer.



The course eventually ascends to more open, grassy terrain....



...and we continue our ascent...




...but, the beauty of the course just continues to amaze.





After a brief downhill stint (where I almost miss a turnoff in my over-exuberance), we begin the first major climb up over 8000ft.



Snow patches can be seen ahead.



These become snow fields.



The final stretch of the climb on road...




...brings us to the first bit of real snow to deal with.





I could definitely feel the elevation, but this first trip up to 8000ft went just fine. This was a relatively short trip up high with a gradual climb on the newly added section after the Upper Sheep aid station. It took around 7 miles and topped out about 8100ft going around the aptly named Freeze Out Point. We eventually headed back down to the first major aid stations at Dry Fork.

Dry Fork was followed by a steep fire road descent which eventually leveled out, crossed through some streams, rolled through some woods and into the Cow Camp aid station about 6 miles later. We would be repeating this section in a little over 8 miles, but first we had to take on what would be the biggest challenge (for me at least) of the altered course. From Cow Camp we had a 3 mile, 2000ft climb going from 6500ft to 8500ft.

I knew this would be the first test for me as both the climbing and dealing with the elevation were not my strongest suits. Furthermore, at just 21 miles into the race, I had to take it easy and be mentally prepared to be passed by many people, losing any time I had made on the recent downhill sections. We would be repeating this climb again around miles 75, a fact I was desperately trying to keep out of my mind as I began to feel the double whamey of steep climbs at altitude.

I took many pictures, to try and distract myself.

The climb begins.



The views remain spectacular.




This is where we are headed.



As expected, stronger climbers like Olga here, catch and pass me on the way up.



We snap a photo together before she heads on her way. I wouldn't see her again until a couple miles before the turnaround.



The last push up this climb was not only extra steep, but had some nice slippery mud and slush to add a little side of insult to go with this big serving of injury.



We finally made it to the top.



While the big climb was done, we would still be rolling along between 8300-8500ft along this fire road through mud and snow before getting to head back down.





I was feeling the elevation aplenty at this point. It reminded me of my TRT50 race last year where I also experienced problems around 8500ft. Any amount of effort would send my heart-rate soaring and bring a nice dose of light-headedness on. I really didn't want to exert too much effort so early in this race as the idea of returning to this state with an additional 50 miles on my body was starting to creep into my psyche.

As you can see, I am definitely up above 8500ft....



...and definitely NOT happy.



We, of course, eventually headed back down, back over the ridge and the 1000ft drop down to Dry Fork aid station. Here, at just under mile 30, I decided to take a little bit of time and gather myself. I found that I actually felt pretty good despite my struggle shortly before. Knowing that I felt fine down at 7500ft meant that I wouldn't have to worry about elevation until the return trip. I put it out of my mind and focused on getting ready for the coming evening.

The weather was good so I just switched into a simply long shirt and stuck with whatever other gear I had in my pack. I didn't have my normal Red Bull and Ensure in my drops. We did stop on the drive down at a store that turned out to be on an Indian reservation. While they didn't have Ensure, they had Slim Fast which looked similar enough so I grabbed some. I downed about half of this before my stomach wretched. I dumped the rest, but my stomach wasn't happy. I had forgotten to bring my prescription acid reflux medication so the idea of having a bad stomach through the night was something that gave me a bit of concern. I tried to keep such concerns out of my head, but somewhere in the woods shortly before Cow Camp, I became distracted by something to the left of the trail and found myself in the dirt. Luckily it was pretty soft soil and while my left knee hurt a little afterwards, I was able to shake it off and run normally after a few strides.

At Cow Camp, I refueled and still felt OK. The sun was going down and I was looking forward to the upcoming rolling hills followed by the big downhill. As I enjoyed the next section in terms of the running terrain, my physical condition was starting to become a little troubling in other ways. I started to experience some intestinal issues (which I believe were due to that fateful Slim Fast) necessitating a number of trips into the woods to do what bears do there. My acid reflux was also beginning to act up.

As night descended, I thought about my wife. I took a picture of myself as I said "good night" to her in my head.



Ooops! I forgot to smile...



OK, so there are not more photos it got dark and I ended up dropping the camera in my bag at the Footbridge aid station. So, the rest of this report is probably filled with a lot more whining than it is beautiful scenery. If you're bored by incessant runner blathering, just scroll to the bottom for verification that I finished.

I did really enjoy the fast downhill leading to this major aid station, but my stomach issues were not letting up. I wasn't experiencing nausea, but simply pain whenever I tried to eat more than just a tiny bit. I stuck to broth and nibbling, but probably wasn't getting the calories I needed and my energy was pretty low through the night.

A note about Footbridge. With the altered course, they had us do a little out and back to a road here before heading on through the canyon. This mean that people were coming in from three different directions. The front runners passed by on my way down here, but it was like Grand Central Station with the faster folks coming in from one direction, those a few miles ahead coming back from the turnaround and then us runners just down from Bear Camp. I decided to deal with my drop bag after the out-and-back and so I headed out after (yet) another necessary trip to the porta-john.

We were originally warned that it might be very cold during this section, but it was anything but at the aid station. I asked around about the temperature and nobody had heard anything about cold temps at the turnaround. I stuck with just my long sleeve and didn't even put my gloves on. The section through the canyon was interesting. Much more technical and rocky and probably quite beautiful during the daylight. I think the canyon walls captured the heat of the day and radiated it because I was pretty warm the whole time. I was still having difficulty eating and was trying to stick to small portions and things I could suck on. Experimentation led to some rather strange tastes. At one point I was chewing a bit of beef jerky (which I never eat) and sucking on a Jolly Rancher at the same time. I also found that eating Peanut M&Ms, one at a time, worked pretty well for me.

I probably would have enjoyed this section much more if I had been feeling better. The varied terrain kept it interesting and there were lots of ups and downs. The Little Bighorn River could be heard rushing along the whole time. In fact, I almost ended up in the river at one point. I stupidly didn't change my flashlight batteries at Footbridge and they ran out part way to the next aid station. I was going slow so I switched to my little mini-light backup. This was right at a section where the trail goes down by the river through some marshy stuff. When I found myself right at the rivers edge with no obvious trail in front, I backtracked and sat on a rock to switch batteries. The rest of this section was pretty uneventful. The final climb to the turnaround was pretty relentless, but afterwards I felt relatively good. On the way back to Footbridge, the sun started coming up which is always nice to see, but it is usually where I start getting tired being a night person. At half way, Cathedral Rock aid station, I was complaining about my stomach and someone offered me an Aciphex. It's not the medication I am on, but I was in the past so I was glad to take them up on it. It was sort of like a lifeline at this point as I knew this second day had a LOT of hard climbing in store for me.

By the time I returned to Footbridge, my stomach was starting to feel better. I had some more soup broth and stuck with the single M&Ms as I did a quick shirt swap and headed out for the section that they call "The Wall" on the course description. This is a long, steep uphill to Bear Camp and beyond. I just focused on my breathing and went as slow as necessary to keep from pushing. We would climb well over 2000ft during the next 3-4 miles before reaching the rolling hills into Cow Camp. I few people passed me right at the start of the climb, but I was surprised that more did not as I was really going slow. A couple more caught up at the aid station and passed during the next bit, but I held off a last few just before the final climb as I didn't want them in front of me once we hit some downhill. I was aching to stretch my legs out some. The rolling hills a welcome change, but it was here that I first noticed my Achilles. It wasn't bad, but I could feel it a little when running the flat or slight uphills. Luckily, it didn't bother me on the downhills as running these is just about my only talent in this sport. This was also the section where the majority of the 50 milers were heading out looking fresh and fast. They were all so kind offering encouraging words and offering to move aside. I always insisted they take the trail as it wasn't going to make much of a difference in my time to walk beside the trail as they passed.

Reaching Cow Camp, I took a breather in prep for what was ahead. Everything felt reasonably OK, but after that long climb, I was pretty sure a sub-30 hour finish was not going to happen so I didn't rush it. The 50K runners were now coming down from Riley Point. I envied them getting to take that loop in the opposite direction. Heading out for that beast of a climb back to the dreaded 8500ft level, I returned to my slow, metered pace letting a few people pass me right at the start. The 50K runners were even more encouraging and more insistent at giving up the trail. I can only imagine what I must have looked like at this point. I was again surprised that more people didn't pass me beyond the first bit. I even caught one or two and saw one woman sitting with he pacer hovering over her. She apparently had breathing trouble and I don't think she continued beyond that spot. I believe that the vast majority of people back at my time here were other sea-level or flat-lander folks like myself. A number of them confirmed this as we all struggled up that final steep (and now even messier) bit of climb. I started having some breathing issues of my own as I noticed wheezing sounds coming from my chest. This was probably the slowest 3 miles I have ever gone in a race. I think it took me 2 full hours. It was pretty much step-step-gasp-rest the whole way up.

I finally made it to the peak where I took a bunch of the nasty Hammer Gel they had there filled my bladder and handheld and then drank my fill. My hydration needs seemed to be through the roof. At this point sub-30 was long gone and I didn't even want to think about projecting a finish time. I was just going to take it easy the whole way through up here because even when I got back down to Dry Fork, it would still be nearly 20 miles to go. I later thought that maybe I should have tested pushing myself up there as a test, but that just the normal revisionist tendencies that come about after forgetting what I felt like after that climb.

At Dry Fork I was at first ready to just get in and out. I knew I probably should change my socks as my shoes were very wet and muddy. I was about to go when a woman offered me a foot wash. I had no time goals here. Who was I to reject an offer for a woman to wash my feet?! I knew there was a reason I didn't want to remove those socks. My left foot looked OK, but the big toenail was dead as a doorknob. My right foot looked like a prune as my big toe had gone right through the sock and gotten soaked. A good washing and change of socks and I was ready. Then, who came into the aid station, but Catra and Andy. I chatted with Catra for a bit when she offered the idea of heading out all together. Again, I had no more time goal so I took her up on it.

Four of us headed out of Dry Fork together as some guy (whose name I can't recall) had clung onto Catra coming into the aid station. We stuck together an easy, but not totally leisurely, pace through the Upper Sheep aid station. I went ahead to run the downhill and then planned to be caught on the next uphill when I saw it. The last steep climb on the course called "The Haul" is only about 500 ft. Since we were around the 7000ft mark, I decided to test my ability to push a descent climb at this elevation. I pushed a good powerhike pace up the hill passing two 50K runners on the way. I was surprised that I still had the energy and began questioning whether I should have been pushing earlier. The top of this climb led to a long downhill that would loose more than 2000ft before the next aid station. I couldn't resist!

I let it go all the way down flying down the first part. It became steeper and I ran it until I felt sharp pains in my toes. I eased up a little bit and then it flattened out. It became a bit marshy leading up to one of the creeks. It was small and so I just jumped across without much thought. My landing was left than perfect and I felt a pull on my right Achilles. I felt it a bit during the next few paces, but as the trail continued downhill, I was able to continue on without trouble all the way into the Lower Sheep aid station. I was suddenly feeling quite good. Seven and a half miles, mostly gradual downhill, lower elevation. A sub-32 hour was in the bag and something closer to 31 was quite possible if I felt strong to the finish. I took some fruit at the aid station and headed out.

I could feel my Achilles a bit more during the next half mile. Then, as the trail leveled out, a shooting pain went through it and made me pull up. I messaged the calf and around the ankle trying to loosen it. I tried to go on and the pain shot back. After a little few more failed attempts of trying to run only to pull up limping, I tried some walking. I found I was able to walk without pain if I maintained my foot at a right angle. Basically, if I pushed off with my toes (like when you run) it hurt quite a bit, but if I kept it in a fixed position it was OK. After a little bit, I tried to use my bandanna to hold my foot in this neutral position to enable me to proceed without pain. While I was doing so, some wonderful guys from race sponsor Sport Spot happened upon me and one of them had a nice big roll of tape. He taped up my foot to hold it in position while the other guy found a stick for me to use. I didn't have words enough to express my appreciation for these two trail angels. I was able to continue down the trail without pain and it turned out I didn't even need the stick.

I made it to the next aid station from which is was just over 5 miles to the finish. It would be pretty easy terrain from there on out, but I was going to be moving at a 3mph pace at best. Those last miles were excruciating. Not only was I moving slowly and unable to speed up, but it was dirt then gravel then paved road. It made it seem even longer to be traveling along a straight and uninteresting road at a snail's pace after all that time spent in the midst of mountain beauty. Pretty much everyone I passed during those downhill miles caught and passed me by even though some were also walking. Catra and Andy come on through and then Brad Neiss came around just before the final turn. It was actually good to see Brad as I had no idea of how he and Jeff were doing back there. He kicked it in the last 1/2 mile as he was happy to be breaking 32:30. I did what I could to improve my pace, but must have looked quite pitiful limping along as fast as I could.

Finally, crossing the road and around into the park where we had met for the pre-race meeting. The final path is along the edge of the park where everyone can see you coming and cheer you in. Apparently, those camping near by joined along with the cheering. Then, when you get close they had a bagpiper playing near the finish. This is the part where I really wished I could have kicked it in and crossed the finish line, or at least get it over with sooner. I told the bagpiper maybe he should play "taps" for me. Catra was waiting at the finish with camera in hand so I totally hammed it up and hopped across on one foot as fast as I could.

It was good to be done.

32:28

We hung out in the park and partook of the post-race BBQ. Able to eat now without trouble, I scarfed down a sausage and some various other foods. We were all pretty tired so we headed out before too long snapping one final picture before leaving for our hotel.



Other than the tape on my ankle, you'd never no I had a bad race from that picture.



The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. When I removed the tape I was assured that I hadn't just wimped out by the pain whenever I pointed my toes. I put it on ice for the night. Other than that, I also had some pretty bad chest congestion, coughing up quite a bit from my lungs the rest of the day. I felt OK, the next morning at the awards breakfast, but knew that I would be out for at least a week. I was pretty sure that the Achilles was just a strain as there was no pop or anything when it happened and no redness or swelling had come on.

It probably sounds like I was more disappointed in this race than I really am. The final 5 miles were definitely disheartening, but in the end everything else that happened during the race was just par for the course (so to speak). In fact, as I said when I started this post, this was certainly the most beautiful race I've ever done. I wish I'd had my camera the second day as well since things often look different heading in the opposite direction.

After watching the Oregonians take almost all the awards home (other than Brad's award for the 3rd place man under 30), I picked up my own belt buckle. Sitting there in the plaza the previously mentioned "post-race amnesia" did kick in a little and I found myself thinking that how I might do better if I returned on the normal course and with better course knowlege and ...




Postscript:
The test run went well covering 9 miles at an easy pace. I followed it up on Sunday with 19-1/2 hilly, hot and (surprisingly) humid miles in Purisima Creek. No pain at all in the run. A little tightness on Monday, but nothing to worry about. Continued ice, message, stretching and easy running during the week. I completed close to 23 miles on Mission Peak yesterday to cap nearly 50 for this past week. Recovery complete.

Time to get ready for what's next!

The Other Six

taper: ta·per \ˈtā-pər\ (vt): to become progressively smaller toward one end, to diminish gradually

Hit with yet another head cold (how many is that this year?), I certainly haven't gradually diminished my miles. My running after Mt. Diablo could better be described as a cliff than a tapering off. Once again I have to console myself with the reminder that I have been getting some forced rest before my big race as I spent more time in bed than on trail.

How did I come to this sorry state of affairs? What manner of daemon remained at work after my run in with the devil on the weekend?

Keeping with the biblical allusions, my fall was due to something reminiscent of the earliest sin on Monday. I picked up my son from basketball practice at noon and we stopped at Panera Bread for lunch. Trying to avoid the dreaded "I ran an ultra, I can eat anything today" syndrome, I opted for the Strawberry Poppyseed Salad and chose the usually-quite-healthy side option of an apple. The salad was descent, but as I walked toward the car, I took the first bite of the apple. It didn't taste quite right. It wasn't rotten. It just tasted a bit more acidic than usual. I thought maybe it was maybe my taste buds being weird so I tried another bite. Nope, still "funny". I forced myself to eat a little more as the salad left me still a pit peckish and I wanted to deter myself from making bad food choices later in the day. However, the apple started to turn my stomach. I rolled the rest in a paper napkin and put it aside. Well, the rest of the day my stomach just didn't feel quite right. Not wanting to go into nasty details, I'll just say that by that evening, I was making frequent mad dashes for the nearest restroom. Not a pleasant experience, especially in the middle of grocery shopping after work.

The stomach thing was cleared by the next day, but I think the combination of food poisoning and the recent ultra left my immune system in a pretty vulnerable condition. At least this is what I attribute to my coming down with this nasty cold. I'm sure the deeper truth is that I am being punished for my sins. I mentioned hubris during my race, but lets see how I've managed to live up to the rest of the deadly sins over this past week.

Sloth: Well, this one is pretty obvious since I did almost nothing especially in terms of exercise since the race and coming down ill. Furthermore, my son had a basketball tournament on the weekend which meant I spent most of it sitting as well.

Wrath: I could say I that I was angry with myself. However, that's a bit of a cop out and anyone who has seen me at one of my son's basketball games knows that I am prone to the occasional outburst when the ref makes a bad call (please place in your mind an image of my wife rolling her eyes at that bit of understatement). Let's just say I am a passionate fan, OK?

Gluttony: Between the basketball tournament and Father's Day, it wasn't exactly a weekend of eating well. Good habits go out the door when the routine is interrupted. Besides, I'd never seen a carrot cake pancake before. Come on now, what's not to like about that? Carrot cake! Pancake! Still not convinced? Oatmeal-spiced pancakes filled with diced Granny Smith apples, raisins, carrots, coconut and crunchy walnuts. If that doesn't sell it then how about three simple words. Cream cheese icing! Just go vote for it and celebrate IHOP's 50th anniversary.

Greed: Well, I did spend a pretty penny on gear Friday night at REI so I was pretty obsessed with the acquisition of material things. Among other things, I bought a cool insulated bottle, a very versatile piece of head/neck wear, and multiple pairs of the Nuwool Ijnijni Outdoor Tetrasoks. Of course, the greed sin could also refer to the little fortune cookie prediction I have been carrying around in my wallet since Sunday. Usually they are quite general and vague, but this one was very, very specific. It reads, "you will have gold pieces by the bushel." How do you like that? Tell me if that wouldn't have you reveling in wanton thoughts of greed.

Envy: Hmm. This is a tough one because I don't see myself as a particularly envious person. I have a pretty darn good life so what's to get all torn about? I told my son that all I wanted for Father's Day was to watch him have a good tournament. He played the best he has in some time and his team ended up winning the whole thing. I could say I was envious of those who actually got some running in this week. But, even there, my wonderful wife insisted we do a little run on Sunday evening when we returned home. A nice easy 5 miles on the levee trail. Thomas Aquinas, perhaps the most Aristotelean of Christian philosophers, described envy as "sorrow for another's good". While I am, in fact, a confirmed atheist, this particular sentiment certainly expresses something that, in my personal philosophy, I would rate as one of the highest moral sins. Especially since I tend to see "hatred of the good" in many areas of our society where our predominantly egalitarian-obsessed culture does not. But, this is not a post on philosophy, it is about confessions. And, truth be told, I catch myself in envy, in many small ways, all the time. Perhaps its envy of those people who can eat the stack of pancakes and never gain weight despite lack of exercise. Maybe it's wishing the other team messes up rather than just wishing my son's team plays better. In whatever its manifestation, it is so easy to get caught up focusing on others rather than being at peace with all the good that exists one's own life. The reminder of Disiderata has always hung on a plaque in my family's bathroom since I was a kid and it always reminds me of my father. Happy father's day, Dad. Sorry I couldn't spend it with you.


Well, there you have it, my sins. Huh? What's that you say? Lust? I forgot lust? Come on now! This is a family-friendly blog. I suppose I could post some barely-safe-for-work photos of myself nude on the trail like my friend Catra. Somehow, I think the feelings they would evoke in my readers would be anything but covetous. I'll just stick to good old "gear lust" as something with which I am a bit more comfortable. I also bought a new Nalgene resevoir for my Ultimate Direction pack. These are my favorite replacement reservoirs and the smaller size should be perfect since I plan to carry one handheld as well. We also purchased a Silva Tech4o accelerometer watch for my wife. She thought the GPS units were a bit much for her. We haven't tried it out yet, but it claims 95% accuracy and I'll report on it once we test it.

OK, that's enough about gear for now. I'm getting a little warm just talking about it all :-). Speaking of warm, I really need to figure out my drop bag strategy for Bighorn soon. I will be taking Wednesday off to make sure I have everything together. Besides just having to deal with the expected cold, wet, muddy conditions, we have now been informed that the course has been changed. It turns out that they still have quite a bit of snow up in the higher elevations so the planned turnaround point has been altered and we will be doing an extra loop to Riley Point (8500') early on as well as an extra out-and-back at Footbridge and another trip up the steep 2.8 miles to Riley on the way back. Also, the final turnaround point has been up to Leaky Mountain since the snow starts where that final climb would have been. I think a picture will say much more than any of this description ever could.

Aid Station Closed:



Am I worried?
A little.

Am I excited?
A lot!

A Certain Symmetry

By many standards, Mt. Diablo isn't a particularly large mountain standing a little under 3900ft. However, the 7 mile course from that Sarah and Wendell have plotted from the bottom to the peak entails well over 4000ft of climbing with more than 1600 of it coming in one relentless 2 mile stretch of single-track that encountered before you are even warmed up. After that you have only a very short, but extremely steep respite downhill on firetrail that leads to a more moderate climb to the first aid station. After that you get to enjoy the short tease of the only rolling section of the course before the final 1000ft grind to the in a little over 1.5 miles, much of it on loose gravely trail that you get to share with those faster folks charging towards you on their way down. The return trip to the start avoids the bottom single-track and opts for the more bone-jarring, hard-packed firetrail.

On most courses that have multiple loops there is a familiarity aspect that makes the second trip seem a little bit easier than the first. This is definitely not the case here. Everyone I know who does this 50K for the first time absolutely swears that the hills are longer, steeper and more technical on the second trip to the top. In fact, I think it is almost a tradition to go out too hard thinking "this isn't so bad" on your first leg only to pay for it dearly on the second as the heat of the day sets in. This was certainly the case for me last year when I did this race. This year I was smarter. I knew what to expect. I also wasn't entering this after a stomach virus like last year. So, I took it easier on the first loop. I did more power-hiking. I monitored any potential cramping closely and also used my recent Ohlone experience to make sure I handled the growing heat well and stayed hydrated. Even being more conservative on the first loop, I returned to the start more than 5 minutes faster than the previous year.

Of course, I didn't take a nasty fall this time during that first loop. I actually made it a goal. Last year I was focused on getting close to a 7 hour finish (before I got ill). This year, I stated my goal as to "just not draw blood." Of course, anyone who knows me realized there was a time goal in the back of my mind, but I wanted a stated goal of a different type in order to avoid the dreaded overconfidence of a good first loop. The second loop was definitely harder, especially the top part of Back Creek. But, I was mentally ready for it. I powered through and made it past that typical 4-hour low. The heat was definitely raising and I popped an extra S!Cap and drained both my bottled before the aid station, but not too far back. Things went well and I found myself back at the peak at just over 5:30 race time.

An hour and a half for the final stretch of less than 8 miles.

Mostly downhill.

All I had to do was 10 min/mi average and I had a sub-7 hour in the bag.

This was SO going to happen.

I flew down the steep single track from the peak. Focused and cruising, huffing out "thanks" and "good job" to those coming up.

It levels out a little and there's a face I recognize.

"Good job!"

"You too!"

What was her name again? Darn it, can never remember. Check the list when I get to the bottom. Man, I'm moving. Wonder what time I'll make it in. Can I break 6:50? 6:45? Maybe...

UUUUFFF!!!!!!!

AAAARRRRGHHH!!!!!

Damn...damn...damn!!

I get up from the dirt as quickly as possible and hope awkwardly around the trail trying hard to keep my left calf from seizing up. I manage, but just barely. It is going to be an issue the whole way down. Beautiful! Nice job, Steve! Patting myself on the back before I'm even half way down the mountain. Isn't hubris one of the seven deadly sins? The devil strikes again!

My penance came shortly as about 2 minutes further down trail, I come upon the runner in front of me, a young triathlete doing his first ultra, lying on his back in the dirt. I stop and offer a hand up. He looks up for a few seconds in confusion before accepting the assistance. I ask if he's OK and give him the once over. He seems fine with just a minor cut on his palm. I think he was maybe confused by the very different competitive ethic between triathlons and ultras. I stick near him for most of the rest of the way to the aid station and have a bit of conversation. When I know he is being taken care of I make haste out of there. It is about 6:05 and I have some business to finish here. I know it took me a bit over 40 minutes from here the last time and I am figuring 45 for this trip so long as my calf behaves.

I am very familiar with this fireroad down having run and/or biked it more times than almost any trail other than Mission Peak. I am even prepared for the last mile and a half which just doesn't seem to be downhill even though the elevation profile assures you it is. I roll into the finish in a little under 6:51, dirty, scrapped and bloody, having once again paid my dues to the Devil's Mountain.

Despite the fall, it was a very good race overall. I finished on the other side of the 7-hour mark than I did the previous year. I should now have a nice scar on my left thigh to match the one I acquired on the right side last year. And, just to complete the symmetry of the repeated event, to go along with last years pre-race stomach virus, I managed to acquire a nasty little case of food poisoning or something the day after the race this year. Luckily, it was nothing that lasted, but my defenses do feel a bit more weakened. With Bighorn just a week and a couple of days to come, I think that my taper is going to look a lot more like a cliff. No worries here, a week of rest will be good.

Bulking Up

Monday was Memorial Day (yes, I am way behind in my reports) and Freddy's team had the potential for a full day of games if they went all the way in their tournament. Unfortunately, they only made it to the quarter-finals. It did however, let us enjoy a bit of the nice weather we had on this last day of the long weekend. After some errands, I did a 4 miler with my wife and then headed right back out to knock off another 8 miles on my own. My legs definitely thanked me for the two days of rest I'd given them and I was very happy to start the week with a nice 12 mile day. Since I wasn't going to get a 50 miler in before Bighorn, I decided that this week would be a big mileage week followed by some standard mileage going into my 50K the following week. I had the idea in my head to bulk up my miles and shoot for a 70+ week. I don't know that I have ever notched greater than that number in a pure training week (i.e. not including weeks with 100K or 100-mile races).

The remainder of the week progressed along fairly normal lines (3 miles w/Zane Tue, 8.5 Wed, 8.5 Thu., 5 Fri) and I was heading into the weekend with 37 miles. My wife's schedule called for 8 miles on Saturday morning and I figured I could knock off another 8-10 easy miles in the afternoon. That would put the 70 mile goal within fairly easy reach without the need for a crazy long run on Sunday though I did want to hit some good hilly trails. Once again, my wife continued to impress me (while continuing to ignore my conservative advice) and went on to do 9 miles on Saturday even battling through a side stitch late in the run. However, she said her legs and everything else felt fine and the coming week was a planned "back-off" week for her. I had not pre-formed idea about where to run in the afternoon and just figured that wherever I could get it in would be fine as long as I brought my miles up over 50 before Sunday. Zane was heading to Miami in the morning for work and needed to head to the office in the afternoon to prepare. That gave me the idea to head over to my default Penninsula location of Purisima Creek. A nice down-and-up there would give me 8-10 miles as well as some good hills. I promised myself to take it easy, but would allow extra miles if I felt it (that would just be less required of Sunday).

Driving up Skyline the fog grew ever thicker as I watched the temperature gauge creep down into the 40s. There was certainly not going to be any heat training on this run! I brought my moeben sleeves (Miwok) and gloves as well as my windbreaker (Firetrails). I also decided to use my hydration pack on this run to test a different bladder in it. I have some new gear updates/changes recently, but I'll leave those aside for another post. At first I headed out with only the sleeves and gloves, but as soon as I entered the deep trees it was not only extremely cold, but I was getting wet from tree drippings. I immediately headed back to the car and donned the jacket that I ended up keeping on the entire time. As I headed down trail, I realized that, while I wouldn't get any heat training in, I might actually get a little mud training as things were quite wet over here. It made the trails very soft and added to the always enjoyable running in this park. For those in the know, I started on the North Ridge Trail then headed down the wonderfully switchbacky (?) Whittmore Gulch Trail. This descends about 1500ft in just under 4 miles. Always a good way to start a run. The original idea was to head back up Harkins Ridge and back over to North Ridge with maybe a little extra mileage for 8 total. However, I was feeling so good upon reaching the bottom that I decided to head up the Purisima Creek so I could cut over on my favorite Soda Gulch Trail and get more like 10 miles in. In fact, I was feeling so good upon reaching the Soda Gulch intersection that I continued climbing for another mile or so before turning back around to head back to my start point on the wonderfully rolling single-track. Despite the cold, I had a great run and managed to take it easy on the near-3000ft of climbing. The final tally for the run put me at right around 13 miles. This made my weekly total 59 and put an audacious idea into my head.

Sunday morning I had to be up at 4am to get my wife to the airport. Unfortunately, I didn't get to bed early and 3 hours sleep was not what I wanted to finish my big week of running so I went right back to sleep upon returning home. It was that good, deep, Sunday morning type of sleep and it was lovely. I finally rolled out of bed around 11 and took my time getting things going. However, I eventually got my act together and 2pm found me in Sonol running across the bridge onto the Ohlone Wilderness Trail. The goal was distant Rose Peak, the high point of the recent Ohlone 50K and one of the highest peaks in the area at just under 3800ft. I basically followed the path of the recent race, but took a few exploratory excursions onto side trails both to satisfy my natural curiosity as well as to add some extra mileage. The weather was the opposite of what I had experienced on the other side of the bay just a day earlier with clear skies and warm air. It wasn't quite as warm as my last trip here two weeks prior especially with the nice cooling breeze. I worked on my uphill pace and just enjoyed being out there on the trail alone. I don't think I saw another soul beyond the first 45 minutes. I reached the peak after about 10 miles in under 2 1/2 hours then headed down to Maggies to refill my pack and start the trip home. I took a few more short excursions on the mostly-downhill return trip. I was really in no hurry as I was so much enjoying the trail. But, I did get a late start so eventually I had to pick things up and get home to take care of dinner for Freddy. After a little more than 4 1/2 hours of running, I returned to the parking lot feeling exhausted and fulfilled, about 21.5 miles and over 5000ft of climbing. Just as I was heading out, my phone rang. I knew it was Freddy and he was probably wondering about dinner. However, rather than his usual query of "what's for dinner" he immediately asked, "can we go to sushi?" Hmmm....fish for protein, rice for carbs and a nice muscle relaxant to wash it all down. How perfect is that!

Oh yeah, and my weekly mileage total....80.7 miles. A new PR! The farthest I've gone in a week that didn't include a 100 mile race.


This week I have been taking it fairly light, but not too light. I don't plan to race hard at Mt. Diablo so I am still targeting close to 60 miles for the week including the race. I expect to be running on tired legs, but then it will be taper time so this is the final training push.

The Downward Spiral

OK, so I had this crazy idea that, after having such a good race at Ohlone, I could launch right back into a normal 60-mile training week. I've been wanting to "bulk up" my training leading up to the Bighorn 100. It will be the first 100-miler without a 50-miler within 3 weeks of the race. I will be doing the Mt. Diablo 50K as my last long run before I taper. I plan to run Saturday before Diablo and to keep a normal training week leading up to that. However, my idea (I can't really call it a plan) after recovering from Miwok was to maintain my weekly mileage in the 60+ range integrating both Ohlone and Diablo without missing a beat.

I took Monday off and then did an easy 3 miles with my wife on Tuesday night. On Wednesday I did my lunchtime run. Normally, I would wear my heart-rate monitor on my first "regular" run after a race to assure I kept things at recovery pace. I think that I figured with the Tuesday's run at such an easy pace I could skip the whole "recovery run" thing. This was probably not a great idea as I felt a bit more fatigued after my Thursday lunch run and certainly wasn't going to argue when my wife decided she needed to cut her evening run short. I'd make it up later in the week.

Getting out of work early on Friday before the long weekend was an opportunity to add a few extra miles before a busy weekend. Now that the Guadalupe River Trail is completely open north of the Airport, I decided to take it all the way past 237 and back. This trail offers some interesting long (though flat) run opportunities for me as it hooks up with the Highway 237 Bikeway which I can take all the way to Milpitas on the way to my house. It also ends close to the Alviso Marina which has some nice levee trails at the south tip of the bay. At any rate, I started this run off at a fairly easy pace for a medium distance run. However, by the middle of the return trip, I got that sensation where my legs just took on a mind of their own. Everything just kept slowing down and there didn't seem to be anything "there" to make them go any faster. I finished the run feeling wasted. But, with 32 miles for the week, I still figured that a good night's rest and I would be able to fit in 30 miles on the weekend.

The weekend miles were going to be a challenge as my son was playing basketball in a big memorial day tournament called "Rumble in The Bay." It was local and he had a big break in the Saturday schedule with a first game at 8:45am and a second game at night. That gave me some time, but there went the whole sleeping in idea. After his first game it was time to do my wife's long run. The plan was to do 6 miles, but she felt good and insisted that she be allowed to do more. OK, really she just ignored all my blathering about increasing mileage slowly and training schedules and blah, blah, blah... She simply turned left onto a path before we got to the car and kept going. It's not like I can really tell her what to do anyway. Besides, I knew that 7 miles was a big milestone for her as she used to do 7 mile runs often as a teenager. Unlike me, she is really quite good at pacing herself and never goes out too fast so I try not to worry about her adding miles if she feels it.

As the day wore on, I could tell that my body really wasn't recovered as well as I would have liked from the previous weekend's race. I kept thinking back to Wednesday's run and how I have felt as though my body had been in a slow, downward spiral since that run. I kept re-adjusting the math in my head from my planned 12-14 Sat. afternoon followed by 10 or so on Sun. If I only did 10 today, I could maybe do 12+ tomorrow...If I only did 6 today, perhaps I could find time for 15 tomorrow...if I just rest the rest of the day, can I fit it in tomorrow? Perhaps 2 runs tomorrow? Perhaps only 50 miles total?

During one of my brief lapses into sanity, I admitted that I really needed the rest and decided to just see how I felt the next morning. The morning brought my wife and I to the gym for some cross-training on the stationary cycle. I was reading an article in "Marathon and Beyond" by Joe Henderson talking about common training errors. When I arrived at the one titled "Don't be a slave to your running log", I just sort of stared at it for a while. It was clear what the right thing was for me to do. Even though my legs felt great after the time on the cycle, I decided that rest was what this weekend called for. I had Monday off and if I felt recovered enough I could at least start the next week off with a descent count.

It's funny, with all my worry and obsessing over my wife's miles, she was really the one listening to her body whereas I was the one locked into some arbitrary concept of a training plan. Her body was simply telling her to go further. Mine was saying "enough!"