Top 10 Running Shoe Lacing Techniques

Problems getting those shoes to fit perfectly? Try one of these out for size.

Cool display of varying methods to lace your shoes. How many times have you tied your shoes the exact same way? Time to mix it up folks!

Grand Slam Drop Rates

It seems a bit counter intuitive, but it makes sense if you really think about it. That Wasatch Front has the lowest drop rate for GS runners of all the Grand Slam races is really about survival, fitness and cut offs.

If you are running the Grand Slam, it might be helpful to know that if you make it past Western States (26% drop rate), there is 9% chance you'll drop at Vermont, a 29% chance you'll drop at Leadville, and only a 7% chance you'll drop at Wasatch. Of course take these stats for what they are...just stats (based on the last 10 years of Grand Slam runners, excluding 2008 when Western States was cancelled).

What is the biggest take away here? Well, I put them together to prove a hunch that I had since running the Slam in 2014 - that Leadville is the hardest of the four and has the highest drop rate.

Here's my two cents.

Make it through Western, you have a good chance of going the distance. But your biggest challenge is Leadville, for several reasons. The first is altitude. My guess is most slammers, coming from around the country (or the world for that matter), don't have the time to properly acclimate to Leadville's 10,000' starting altitude. This is a huge factor that, combined with Leadville's 30 hour cutoff, creates a insurmountable hurtle for nearly 30% of all runners who never make it through this gauntlet.

The secret? Acclimate! If there is any possible way, spend at least two weeks at 7,000' or higher before Leadville. Hike a lot. Get high and reap the platelets. You'll pay the price if you don't. Leadville is a very runnable course, but not if you don't acclimate. You've got to get over Hope Pass and back, and getting this done takes more than guts. It takes more red blood cells. Wasatch, a much tougher course, is at a lower altitude and gives runners 36 hours to complete, six hours more than Leadville.

One other tip for all you GS runners. Don't worry about running between races. Just get out and hike, stay on your feet, and enjoy the outdoors. It's a long summer and you need to give you body some time to rebound. By the time you reach Wasatch, you will have much more fitness than when you started Western States. Let the journey take its course, and enjoy the ride!!

Keep it real GS runners!

   

Tahoe Rim Trail - There Are Moments

Mona G, Will C, Yours T, Al C. 

He took the scalpel from the package and held it, hesitantly, over my left foot. As a new volunteer, he was unsure of himself, worried about the pain it might cause. But there was no pain, just a quick lance, lots of fluid oozing, and the blister the size of a grape on my big toe was no more. Another volunteer quickly applied a wrap over the loose skin. It was a team effort at the 50-mile aid station, with my friend Mona G in the middle of the scrum barking out orders.

Last weekend I completed the Tahoe Rim Trail (TRT) 100 mile endurance run. It was a weekend of firsts. My first 100 miler since completing the Grand Slam in 2014. The first ultra my father and brother came to watch. And the first time I’ve come so close to not finishing.

Pre Nuclear Fuel Rods

I’m not sure if it was the average elevation (8,300’), 20,000 feet of climbing, technical trails, dry-to-the-bone heat, or my new-fangled cross-training program with not-so-much-weekly running, but this race kicked my ass! From mile 50 to 60 I was teetering from faithful survivor mode to DNF zombie mode.

One minute I was swearing to myself that I’d never, ever run another 100 mile race (now a routine), and the next I was rationalizing that every runner needs at least one DNF, and why shouldn’t this be mine! But I knew my Dad was waiting for me at the finish line.  So, with that, I resolved to grind through the misery even if it took me until the 35-hour cutoff.

Marching into 50 mile aid station

In terms of difficulty, I place TRT in front of Angeles Crest and just behind Wasatch Front. It’s challenges are many, but the coup de grace is the Diamond Peak climb, which is presented to runners twice – at mile 30 when the heat of the day is reaching a crescendo, and mile 80 when your body feels like it just woke up in a bed of spent nuclear fuel rods. The beast is 1,850 feet straight up the face of a ski slope laden with sand and an elevation of 8,540 feet. No switch backs, no plateaus, no relief.

 

Spent Fuel Rods - Mile 80

Questions floated in the balance during this race like so many other meaning-of-life obscurities. Was I born with this need for pain? Or was it nurtured during my early years in catholic school? Why do I push the envelope when most people my age are pushing pencils? Do I need a therapist? Then, in the middle of the night, I ran into my friend Dave B with his pacer high on a ridge. At least I wasn't alone I thought.    

Lake Tahoe is the second deepest lake in the United States, the tenth deepest in the world. Not unlike the highs and lows experienced during 100 mile race, the lake is a picture in contrast, with deep blue waters surrounded by turquoise shorelines and bright sandy beaches. Seeing it from high upon the rim trail as I ran through the forest was something I won't forget.

There are moments. Moments that I hold on to after moving through the mountains all day and all night, under the beaming sun and rising moon, when I’m ready to just sit down on a rock somewhere and say to hell with this, when the raw trickle of endorphins move through my veins and keep me climbing toward the top of the mountain, when the city lights flicker far below to make me feel like I’m on top of the world.

Once making it through the lowest lows, I started to feel up again and began the process of picking off a few runners. Again, it dawned on me that finding my strength would ultimately happen if I had the patience to work with my weaknesses and not let them control or define me. Its a game of patience being in the elements when your body is struggling and your mind is fragile. It's life in one day. You just have to keep moving forward as good and bad happen. 

After climbing Snow Valley Peak (9,000’) for the second time, I began the long 7 mile descent to the finish line. It was a good feeling to have completed the last climb and have only a downhill section to get through. Despite hours of punishment, my legs, surprisingly, were holding up enough to allow me to push the pace when another runner came up on me. With the finish line so close I couldn’t let anyone pass me.

At the finish with RD George R, Will C

When I reached the coveted 100 mile finish line in 25 hours and 17 minutes my crew was waiting. I can’t describe how good it felt to see them and just sit down and not move for a few minutes. Yes, finally, it was over, and another moment was captured.

The TRT was easily one of the toughest races I’ve ever completed. It was also one of the most organized and well-run races and by far the best marked course. During the 25 hours I was on trial, not once did I feel concerned about being on the right trail, a common occurrence on other courses. Whenever I wanted to ensure I was on the correct trail, I’d look up, and within a minute or two I’d see a trail marker. It is a first class event and I recommend it especially for those of you seeking something a little less mainstream with a higher margin of difficulty.

I’d like to give a hearty shout out to the volunteers, all of whom did a great job keeping us runners fed, hydrated and moving on our way. But most importantly I want to thank my crew Mona G, Alfred C and Will C for keeping me motivated during the low points. This was the most difficult day I can remember, and I don’t think I would’ve finished without knowing you’d be there for me at the finish line!

All photos by Mona G. 

Altitude is Everything

Greetings from Big Bear, California where flies in the summer buzz like WW2 Spitfires in combat mode and are kind enough to take the time to have a conversation with you when you're most vulnerable to hearing voices that exist only in your head somewhere high on the Pacific Crest Trail. Altitude...natures dopamine canister. Come get some!