Race Report -- PCT 50 Mile 2010

As the sun rose over the Laguna Mountains yesterday morning, I was locked in stride with a pack of runners climbing the long, meandering single track of the PCT 50.  After crossing Kitchen Creek road we pushed upward more, then turned northward.  As Moby's "Whispering Wind" played in my ipod, I looked across the sun-drenched Cameron Valley that appeared before me like a freshly painted mosaic. This, I thought to myself, is why I run.   

The PCT 50 mile is run on deceptively difficult terrain.  Packing mostly rock strewn trails, heat, long climbs and 6,000' elevation, the PCT 50 easily trumps the Leona Divide 50 on a scale of difficulty.   But what this course lacks in comfort, it surely makes up in splendor.  Dramatic and panoramic views lurk throughout this mountainous run, constantly beckoning runners for a precarious glimpse as they run along the rocky trail.

My pack of runners stayed together until the first aid station at Cibbets Flat campground, but started to splinter as we made our way up the steep fire road leaving the aid station.  We continued climbing until around mile 14, where we pierced 6,000' elevation.  Knowing I was going to be running at this elevation for several hours to come, I slowed things down a bit.  Long runs like this can bring on a host of ups and downs, both mental and physical.  I stayed focused on my water, salts and gels, consuming each meticulously on the hour and half hour. It was good to see Scott Mills at the Todd's Cabin aid station.  We traded a few words about Rob M and probable snow conditions at this year at Western States.  

As the day wore on, this trail took its toll on me.  I went down face first after kicking an invisible rock around mile 28, punched a huge boulder with my right hand to break a free fall around mile 40, and rolled my ankle a couple of times (ok, this is getting old).  After last year's Western States ankle episode, I'll admit I have a creeping sense of paranoia about the subject.  Are my ankles at the mercy of every trail I run? I have a sneaking suspicion that the cause might well be the lofty soles of my Asics trail 2140s.   They're acting more as rickety podiums than soles that ground my feet on uneven terrain.  Next step?  Check out the Inov 8 line which carries a boatload of stable, low-profile shoes designed for trail running in every condition.  More to come on this.

Working your way up in elevation on an out and back run like this would lead you to think it's a quick way back.  But don't be fooled.  Most of the single track is riddled with rocks, making it difficult to get a rhythm on the long 14 mile decent.  But as I neared the finish line, I knew this was a good day for me.  My homework is beginning to pay off, allowing me to run all the climbs, stay on a tempo on the flats and downs, and  capture 4th place overall.

"I stand in the way of the things I can be" 


...Moby, Whispering Wind  


Today I stood aside.      

Kids Will be Kids

As runs go, I’ll chalk today’s up as an ad-hoc-zany-security-breach kind of run.  Ad hoc because when Rob and I started we had no idea where we were going. Crazy?  Maybe. But I love this kind of run.  It reminds me of when I was a kid.  Leave the house and just go.  Make it up on the fly.  Explore.  The only objective for me was to put down 23 miles.  Didn’t matter how.  Didn’t matter where.  Just get thru 23 miles…to get my 90 miles for the week.

Zany because we crossed over the soft grass of suburbia, in and out of a university campus, along green and yellow hills glistening with spring flora, over fences guarded by a city cop, into a gated community with 24 hour security, thru skin piercing thickets and loose scree, onto a 65 mph toll road, then back!  But I love this kind of run. It reminds me that I’m still a kid.  And this is MY playground! 

Security breach because we jumped a fence right in front of an Irvine cop!  The cop was out of his vehicle.  As he stood waiting for us to pass by, Rob simply said “we’re going in”.  “In there?”, the cop replied, referring to the closed park on the other side of the fence littered with no trespassing signs.  “Yup”, Rob replied, and then he simply jumped over the fence and started running up the trail.  “WTF”?  I’m thinking to myself.  I followed my partner in crime over the fence, just waiting for a yell from the blue man for us to get out of there.  But there was nothing.   Not even a peep. 

As we hurried up the trail, we stopped for a second to see if we were being followed.  Again, nothing.  Laughter ensued, with a few comments from Rob about how police have better things to do than chase down ultra runners.  But our jovial jog soon turned sour when we heard the sound of the cop’s SUV pulling up behind us.  Damn!  We almost pulled it off.  The boy-wonder-looking sergeant kindly asked us to turn our tails around and go back to where we came from.  Rob’s fence hopping gusto quickly turned to diplomacy as he tried to rationalize with boy-wonder why he should let us proceed.  “Proceed?  I could site you guys right now”. 

But I love this kind of run.  It reminds me that kids will be kids.

Taming Dragons at the Rocky Road Endurance Run

It’s been said that a challenge is a dragon with a gift in its mouth…and if you tame the dragon, the gift is yours.  I began my weekend with an obligation—a 10 hour volunteer shift at an aid station for the Rocky Road Endurance Run—something I wasn’t exactly looking forward to. I ended the weekend with new understanding of ultra runners, their dragons and their unique gift.

When I arrived at the starting area at 5 a.m., well before the doors open at Starbucks, I couldn’t figure out how the race could be started in less than an hour.  Runners we’re slowly beginning to arrive and race director Charlie Alewine was just starting to pull supplies out of his van.  Working in the dark, fellow volunteer Jannay Oiknine and I gathered supplies for our aid stations which still needed to be setup along this 15 mile loop course in the ritzy, Southern California horse community of Coto de Caza.  Not knowing exactly how and where I was supposed to set up my station, I got on my way with just 15 minutes before “start” time.  “Just look for the porta potty on the side of the road” I remember hearing Rob Cowan saying as I sped away in my Jeep.   

I set up the Sawgrass aid station with the enthusiasm of a child but the supplies of a pauper.  Table?  Well….no, but boxes will work!  Chairs?  Gosh, thankfully I had a couple of beach chairs in my vehicle usually reserved for my 6 year olds’ soccer games.  Tent?  How about the hatch back of my Jeep?  Shanty town meets the Housewives of OC?  Based on some of the befuddled looks I got from many a passing Mercedes, I would have blended in more on the side of an interstate off-ramp.

But all of my apprehension melted away at the site of the first runners.  Galloping by me without missing a step were early 100 mile front runners Brian Krogmann, Rudy Montoya and Rob Cowan.  Following them were dozens of other 100 mile runners, 50 mile runners, marathoners and half marathoners.  This was an out and back course that consisted of horse trail and, for the 50 and 100 mile courses, a brief but technical single track loop along the west ridge boarding this exclusive community.  With runners passing my station every couple of hours, I got the opportunity to talk with them often, and hear their stories as each labored to tame their own dragon.

Roxanne and Yolanda

...Leticia

After a staggered start, a few marathoners and half marathoners got off on the wrong course and ended up on the technical single track trail.  Like Monica and Leticia who get extra credit for the smiles they brought to so many runners and volunteers.  Another marathoner, Yolanda Holder, was running the event in an effort to gain a world record for the most marathons run in year!  But as the day wore on, it was only the 50 mile and 100 mile runners who remained.  It was then, as the sun reached its highest peak and doused us with its sinister heat, I began to hear their story, and learn more about these people that run long distances. 

Like Rudy Montoya, who stopped and talked with me several times, as he worked through bouts of nausea and cramps and told me he would like to run the Badwater Ultramarathon one day, a 135 mile route from the hellish depths of Death Valley to the lofty perch at Mt. Whitney Portal.  Rudy was a pacer for the second place runner at Badwater last year and understands first-hand the misery such a race can unleash on a runner.  “Why do you want to do it?”, I asked him.  “Just to take it to the next level, for the challenge”, he replied.  I was drawn to his calm demeanor as he moved through the course, solidly holding on to second place during my shift, all the while fighting a dragon that wouldn’t go quietly. 

Brian Krogmann

Ahead of Rudy, running in first place for most of the day, was Brain Krogmann.  Words from and moments with Brian were few, but they each painted a candid picture of a runner moving toward a higher place in this sport.  I met him a year ago at the Western States training camp, one week after he won the Keys 100 Mile race in Florida then proceeded to saunter through 70 miles of Sierra Nevada trails like a 5k warm down.  “Are you hydrating enough”, I asked him at one of his brief stops at my station.  “No, I never do” he replied with a wry smile.  He quickly moved through my station each time, asking what kind of a gap stood between he and Rudy.  Brian was taming his dragon, but was about to encounter another, more ominous beast very soon, because he's been accepted to run this years’ Badwater Ultramarathon. 

David Jordan

As the day continued to wear on, runners were wearing down.  But it’s natural, I have come to learn, to feel the anguish of putting your body through 8, 12 even 30 hours of non-stop physical exertion, especially when the pain starts early and you can’t seem to escape from it.  Twenty-two year old David Jordan was carrying this burden early in the race.  He is a working college student who serves part time in the Navy and runs ultras and Ironman triathlons.  Where does this young Type A find the time to train?  Keep laughing, David, while immersing yourself in physical torture.  It is a skill you have come to master at an early age.  Did you see him smile Leticia?   

Chris and his girls

Chris Peters, running 50 miles, reminded me that running ultimately is a family affair.  His daughters joined me at the Sawgrass station for a while to root him on. Sometimes we have bad days, but then there are good days.  Two smiling daughters on the path to taming your dragon?  This was a good day for you Chris and I hope you had a Bloody Mary to celebrate.   


I began the weekend with an obligation -- to fulfill my volunteer service requirement for Western States.  But my obligation soon gave way to something I never expected -- the chance to experience others working through their own challenges, one dragon at a time.  Thanks for the gift runners! 

Eric Kosters 

Troy Lesovsky

Rob Cowan and Masahiko Tamakammi

Max Welker

Jeanette Quintanna

Race Director Charlie Alewine

Old Dog, New Tricks?

They say you can’t teach ‘old dogs’ new tricks.  There is a ring of truth to this cliché for us runners.  That is, until we push ourselves out of our comfort zone.

One of my good friends—also an ultra runner—is one old dog.  With no disrespect to his 30 year running career, when ever I ask him to run a trail outside of his regular repertoire, I’m quickly rebuffed.  “No, I’m just going to do two loops of the xyz trail”.  XYZ trail being the same trail he’s run a hundred times before.  With him I’m now convinced of one thing: if it aint that dog’s hunt, that dog aint gonna hunt!

Which brings me back to this old dog.  I used to believe that I would never be a morning runner during the workweek.  I detested getting up early, rushing to get ready, then throwing myself outside to get though a workout.  Knowing I needed to be at work before 8 am, I always felt rushed, with no time to warm up or cool down.  The result?  For the last 20 years, most of my training during the week has been in the evening hours, after work.

Enter Family--The Great Teacher of New Tricks.  Last week I was on spring break with my family.  Since we were in the mountains to snow ski, I had to make a decision.  Should I run after spending most days on the slopes with my daughter, or get my training done before hitting the slopes, like early in the morning when the temperature was pushing 22 degrees?  With several hours of running per day on my plate, I opted for the morning.  The first 30 to 45 minutes of these runs where challenging, but manageable.  Though while making my way along the solitary Pacific Crest Trail during one of the coldest mornings, the nozzle on my Nathan hydration pack froze solid.  Uhg! 

I also used to think training for ultras was a sacrosanct affair.  Once I registered for an event and had my eye on the prize, nothing could take me away from my beloved trails on southern cal. 

This week I was summoned yet again to the east coast for work.  Business travel and ultra training aren’t natural companions.  But I’m learning they can co-exist.  When I woke up in Portland, Maine at 7 am, I knew I needed to put in 10 miles before my meeting.  Not a big deal, but when my return trip was re-routed on account of a last minute meeting in Columbus, OH, it meant tacking on 7 miles in New York City the same night.

Hell, I thought to myself as I was running through Times Square at 9 pm amidst throngs of tourists, why don’t I touch the Hudson River, then run across Manhattan and then touch the East River?  Determined, I made my way over some rickety steel pipes hovering above the dark, foreboding Hudson.  Hidden below me was an abandoned pier.  I leaped across a wide gap, then made my way to the river’s lapping edge.  As I reached for its cold touch, I couldn’t help but smile as my mind wondered.  If not running, where would I be?   

New tricks?  No, not for this old dog.  It’s just my own hunt. 

Endurance is Patience Concentrated

No Hands Bridge -- Mile 96.8 of the Western States 100 Mile Run

Today marked the end of my first 80 mile week for this year.  A sweet milestone, yes, but also a reminder of the demanding road to come.  From where I am today, all I can say as I look ahead to the next couple of months is bring it on!

It's taken a while, this build-up to my current level of endurance.  Months in fact.  I wouldn't do it any other way.  Endurance is Patience Concentrated.  When I read this quote by Thomas Carlyle (1795-1891), I surmised this man understood what I finally have begun to grasp.  Give it the time, and the time will come.

The will to finish means nothing without the will to prepare.

Close Encounter--Western Diamondback

Dear fellow trail runners, its snake season! Beware.  I stumbled upon this Western Diamondback Rattlesnake this afternoon on a solo run in Blackstar Canyon.  I didn't even notice him until he sent a shudder down my spine with his intense rattle.  I was only a few feet away when I heard his warning and it scared the hmm hmm out of me.

Unlike other rattlers which can be lethargic or non-aggressive, the Western Diamondback will coil, rattle fearsomely, and stand its ground when threatened. And that he did! It bites hundreds of people a year, more than any other venomous snake in the United States. It hunts from late evening to early morning, crawling either sinuously like other snakes or rectilinearly like a caterpillar.


According to desertusa.com, "the Western Diamondback, especially the juvenile, often comes under attack itself. It may become a meal for an eagle, a hawk, a roadrunner or a wild turkey; for a kingsnake or a whipsnake; or for a coyote, a fox, a badger or a feral hog. Regarded as an enemy and a threat, it may be trampled to death by a deer, an antelope, a cow, a horse or even a sheep. The Western Diamondback lives in a rough neighborhood."

I think I'll be paying a little more attention to the trail in front of me now that it's snake season.  

Training Race #2 -- Rucky Chucky 50k

Getting to the finish line.  One foot in front of the other.  Forget everything else.  Just keep moving forward.  It’s the experience that matters! That is my race report for today. 

More importantly, I missed my flight and now I’m sitting in the bar at the Sacramento Airport waiting for the late flight back to the OC.  Problem is my running shorts under my pants are still filled with discarded half-full gel packs. I totally forgot about them!    Segue: I just got to see the biggest upset for the year in college basketball.  Northern Iowa spanked number one ranked Kansas!  I’m always rooting for the underdog, and those dogs got their due. 

Two beers and a bloody down…What if the late flight is delayed?  

Western States 2010--100 Days and Counting

Here it comes. Like a freight train at night; careening rapidly down the track in the silent darkness.  I'm on the track, in its path.  I can see it, in the distance, its tiny lamp, glimmering.  But it's getting closer.  I begin to feel my time dwindling. Closer still.  Now I hear the hum of its steel lurching down the track.

 

The Western States is in 100 days, and now I begin to feel my time dwindling.  Am I prepared?  Have I been doing enough to get ready? What should I be doing over the next 30 to 90 days so I don't get run over?  As I stand "on the track" here is what I see....

Training to date:  overall its been on target, not stellar, but not bad.  My miles are a little less than ideal to date, but I'm trying to emphasize quality a little more than quantity. Hills (more of 'em) have been the main difference over last year.  My weight is right on track compared to last year, even a little more ideal, which is good since I want to run 5 lbs lighter than last year.  That will put me around 157/158 lbs, the same weight I was at 30 years old when I grabbed my marathon pr.  Right now I'm 164. 

Training Next 100 days: Now is the time I really have to start to executing on my plan.  There will be some changes over last year.  First, I want to keep my weekly milage in the same range, peeking around 90 miles per week, but focus more on race day conditions.  After battling my quads for the last 30 miles in last year's race, I plan to focus much more on running downhill.  Once during the week and at least once on the weekend I will be doing downhill workouts.  One or more mile long downhill intervals will be the focus, and I plan on running in the Santa Ana mountains every other week.  I'll also be supplementing this with weight lifting twice per week, again with an emphasis on building quad strength.    

Another part of my plan I'm on track with is to complete four races leading up to Western States, two more than last year.  I completed the Malibu Creek 50k two weeks ago, and I'm running the Rucky Chucky Roundabout 50k this weekend.  Malibu was a gritty course, with nearly 6,000 feet of elevation gain, right in line with Western States.  Rucky Chucky will be run on the later stage of the actual Western States course, a great opportunity get more experience on race day trail.  I'm planning on running Leona Divide 50 Mile in April, my third year, and possibly the Bishop High Sierra 50k or something similar in May.  That will put me at 4 races leading up to Western States. 

There is more, but these are the pillars that I'm building now that I can hear the steel lurching down the track.

Spring Rushes In

"Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience."

Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Once in a while on long runs I find myself just staring at the scenery around me.  Today was one of those days.  It made for an easy run.  

California Fan Palm and Wildflowers 

Upper Newport Bay Eco Reserve

Ice Plant 

      Southern View -- Upper Newport Bay Eco Reserve

Malibu Creek 50k

Today was my first race of the season, the second 50k I’ve ever run, and a good test for my training regime over the last couple of months.  It was also a great effort for some major hill climbing, waist-high creek crossings, and some very muddy trail sections.

Jeff P joined me at 5:30 a.m. for the 75 minute drive from Orange County to Malibu Creek State Park.  As we drove under a foreboding sky, brilliant white-topped mountains loomed to the east, a reminder of yet another storm that doused our soggy coast.  Clouds lingered and I wondered if we would be spared the rain’s wrath.  We exited the freeway, and then decided it was perfect timing to pull over for a hot cup of black coffee under the golden arches.    

Malibu Creek 50k is one of thirty races put on by the Pacific Coast Trail Runs (if there is a business model to make money in ultra running, this might be the winner!).  Anyway, Malibu Creek is a formidable course with over 5,900’ of elevation gain that consists of two loops with single track trail limited to the first couple of miles and fire roads making up the balance.  Not my first choice of terrain, but what this course lacked in comfort, it more than made up for in grit. 

Following a gentle, almost sleepy couple of miles after the start, the course turns up, and up, and up.  This was when the runners began to separate. 

As I was huffing up the first climb, somewhere between mile 5 and my anaerobic threshold, a youngish runner started to pass me.  As he ran buy me he said something about having to “defend his title”, suggesting he was last year’s winner.  Cool, I thought, but last year’s race didn’t have the same line up as this year.  It occurred to me that this young runner who thought he was racing to win from the back was actually loosing ground to Evan Hone who was in the front, and the ultimate winner of the race.   

During the two six mile ascents, it wasn’t enough to simply put my head down and grind out the miles.  I tried to keep my feet turning over quickly, with rapid, sure steps.  Developing and maintaining a rhythm seemed to get me on my way up these slopes.  Today I learned a little more about my body’s limits. I’ve been training on hills more than usual lately and it has paid dividends.  Listening to my body rather than relying solely on a heart rate monitor allowed me to push through several hours on these hills at or around my anaerobic threshold.  I felt good and in control throughout the entire event which I'm pleased with since I ran all the climbs.  

The descents were a little more technical than expected, with fire roads washed out from the rains, but all part of the experience.  As we made our way down the first “decent” section of the course, I couldn’t stop often enough to scrape the mud off my shoes.  Can I lug this stuff around for another hour or two? 

I reached the finish line in five hours and twelve minutes, 6^th place overall and 2^nd in my age group.  Overall, a run to remember with some great climbs, great views and excellent terrain to endure. 

The Five Rules of Running Shoes. Rule One--Shoe Weight Matters

For runners, finding the right shoe is not unlike finding the perfect mate.  It can take years, even a life time.  Then you meet for the first time, maybe by chance, maybe by plan.  You date for a while, maybe because it feels right, or maybe because you're getting over a tough break-up.  Then, before you know it, you realize this is "the one".   You make arrangements to "tie the knot".  Then, years later, having tied the knot  (thousands of times with your shoe in this case), "the one" changes.  Version 6 is totally different than the version you first met! Or, heaven forbid, maybe you've changed?

Ok, enough of the perfect mate analogy.  I recently purchased, and promptly returned, three different pairs of shoes. It still feels a little strange, to walk out of a store with a brand new pair, only to walk right back in asking for an exchange or a refund.  I'm pretty sure there is a shoe for every foot, but I know every shoe is NOT for this foot!  I've run in a plethora of brands and models.  Asics, Saucony, New Balance, La Sportiva, Montrail, Mazuno, North Face, among others.  All are great brands. But over the hills and through the years, I've learned there are, for me at least, five immutable laws when it comes to running shoes.  Here is the first.  

Law Number One - Shoe Weight Matters. I never used to think much about shoe weight.  But when I start training a lot I notice it.  Since running is not much more than the application of energy (power) against gravity (resistance), its only logical that less weight equals less resistance, which equates to more efficient running.

While it might seem irrelevant to quibble over a few ounces, here's something to think about.   A runner's foot strikes the ground between 150 to 180 times a minute.  Since every stride requires a runner to lift her foot, the difference adds up quickly.  For example, if your cadence is 170, you're lifting your feet 170 times a minute, or 10,200 times an hour.  Now think of what a difference a measly two ounces could make: 2 ounces multiplied by 10,200 equals 20,400 ounces, or 1,224 pounds, lifted during an hour long run (one ounce equals 1/16th, or .06 of a pound).  Sound crazy?  Ok, maybe.  But I know from my own running that when I'm on a pair of 8 ounce racing flats, my feet feel like they barely touch the ground.   

Now for the absurd...I weigh all my shoes!  I stole my wife's food scale and have quarantined the thing for a couple of years.  This is one of the reasons I've returned so many shoes. It's easy to find information on shoe weight on the internet, but I've found a lot of it is bulls!#t.  Most advertisements for shoe weight are based on a shoe size perfect for a 7th grader.  The shoes I've purchased (size 10.5-11) are always several ounces heavier than advertised. 

What is the right shoe weight?  Much of this depends on what I'm using the shoe for.  For me, if I'm training on the roads, I want something that is average to light with a reasonable amount of cushion, but not too much.  For that I need something less than 12 ounces.  The New Balance 758, a neutral shoe that tips the scale at just over 11 ounces, has worked very well for me.  If I'm training on trails, I look for protection over cushion.  For the last couple of years I've run on Asics 2130 Trail, a great shoe weighing in at 13 ounces, but now discontinued.  The newer version, the Asics 2150 Trail, gained an ounce and is now a little hefty for me (Asics, why did you have to put weight on my 2130s?). For this I've switched to the Asics Trail Attack 6 which is somewhere around 12.7 ounces. So far so good. 

I've also been experimenting with the New Balance MT 100.  I recently ran two back to back 20 milers on some rocky, rutty terrain in these little demons.  They stood their ground and weigh in at a nimble 8 ounces.  I kicked a rock pretty hard and to my surprise they absorbed the blow well with no damage or pain to my toes.  Both the New Balance 100 and the Asics Trail Attack 6 have a rock guard built into the sole of the shoe so you don't have to worry when treading on those nasty, poky rocks on trail.

So, next time you lace up for a run, grab a food scale from the kitchen and give it a whirl.  Better yet, if you're training in heavy shoes, try something lighter.  Your feet might thank you...by barely touching the ground.

"Rule One--Shoe Weight Matters" is the first of five series of posts covering "The Five Rules of Running Shoes".  Coming soon --- Rule Two.
 

Getting Through It

When snow was pelting the east coast this week, I initially thought my flight into Minneapolis Tuesday afternoon was a blessing.  Then I heard the temperature.  The low was supposed to hover in the single digits, somewhere between 5 and 8 degrees.  Hmmm….I wasn’t quite sure if I was the weather guru or the simple fool, having brought along a snow cap, gloves, warm-up pants, long underwear and warm socks.  Prepared?  Yes.  But do people really run in 5 degrees?  I managed a nice 5 miles on a tread mill Wednesday morning.    

I was booked to fly onto New York Wednesday evening, right smack into the heart of one of the worst snow storms in recorded history.  As the day progressed, I found out thousands of flights were being cancelled as snow battered Washington D.C and New York.  Sure enough, my flight was cancelled too.  I was minutes away from aborting my trip to the east coast altogether when I learned I was now booked on the only flight into New York Wednesday night.  Yea, right.  Like this plane is really going to fly into the middle of this raging monster when no others would dare.  I started making plans to spend another night in Minneapolis.

But as the clock ticked closer to the 6 pm boarding time, I kept checking for a cancellation notice.  Nothing.  I started making my way to the airport.  When I arrived I quickly looked at the departure monitors, sure to see a big “Cancelled” next to my flight.  Nothing.  Come on guys, now you’re going to make me go through security and walk all the way to the gate, only to tell me my flight is cancelled like the thousands of others into New York.  But as I approached the gate, it finally hit me.  This plane is going to take off.  And I’m supposed to be on it.

“We are scheduled to touch down at 11:45 p.m.” the pilot announced.  “But it could take longer because we’ll probably be in a holding pattern for a while due to the storm” he added.  Great, I thought.  We are taking off and we don’t even know if we can land!  In the end, we made it.  And when we touched down, the entire plane erupted in applause.  I was making my way off the jetliner and I heard one of the ground crew saying our pilot was a hero because ours was the only plane that landed that night.  Nice. 

As I was running through Central Park early Thursday morning, it dawned on me that, as runners, sometimes we just have to “get through it”.  Be it snow storms, cancelled flights, late-night arrivals, just “getting through it” means simply lacing up our shoes and getting out there.  Then comes Friday morning, and I’m now in Boston, running next to the frozen Charles River.  The sky is clear, and the sun is rising in the blue sky.  I made it over the bridge to Cambridge, where I get my first glimpse of the MIT campus. 

As I’m heading back,  a youngish college kid runs by me at a good clip.  I shuffle along, taking in the scenery.  Not knowing, my feet begin turning over a little faster.  Now a couple hundred yards ahead of me, I notice the youngish one isn’t taking any more ground.  I’m gaining ground.  I look down at my GPS.  7 minute pace….6:45, 6:30…Now I’m shadowing him by a few yards.  Ok…feet.  When he looks over his shoulder, his pace quickens.  My stride is steady.  I quietly pull up next to him, listening.  I hear labored breathing.  With miles in the bank, I gently shift into the next gear and begin to separate.  My legs carry me now.  Yes.  These are the moments. 

Getting through it. 

Are We Lunatics?

It's a mystical place, the moon.  Surface temperature over 450 degrees;  one quarter the size of the earth, very close to the size of the Pacific Ocean.  No other object in the night's sky has captured our imagination so deeply.  On July 20, 1969, after circling the earth for some 4.5 billion years, the moon's soft surface was, finally, touched by a human .  It's said that this "one small step", firmly planted where wind and water do not exist, will remain intact for some 10 million years.

Historically speaking, the moon has also gotten a bad rap.   The word "lunatic" stems from the Latin Lunacus or luna, which translates to the English word moon.  Oddballs, or those considered to be "not playing with a full deck" have been labeled "loonies", likely due to the old belief that madness in humans was directly related to the phases of the moon.  What are now referred to as mental institutions or even assisted living facilities were, in the day, simply "loony bins" or "lunatic" asylums.      

On June 26, 2010, at 9:01 p.m., over the rocky peaks and foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, a full moon will rise from the east.  With it will come its own light, gaining strength as the twilight fades from the setting sun.  Underneath this same moon light, several hundred runners will be making their way toward the finish line of the Western States 100 mile endurance run.  I'm looking forward to that moment. 

Sometimes people ask me why anyone would want to run 100 miles.  Honestly?  I don't have a good answer.  Marathons are one thing, but 100 miles just seems so "crazy", I often hear.  Crazy?  Maybe.  Loony?  For sure.

Step by Deliberate Step

Today I happened upon a few minutes that stood still.  It was during the final miles of 18.5 mile run.  Above Newport Beach's back bay, along the green belt, I glanced ahead and a tiny sliver of white caught my eye.  I slowed to get a better view.  Gently, in the distance, the figure began to take shape, sending clues through its slow, deliberate movements.  Alone amid a background of green leaves and a silent wind, a great White Heron stood before me. How close can I get?  I slowed to a walk.  Then slowed some more.

One hundred feet, fifty feet, twenty five. I inched closer. Fifteen feet! He turned to walk, cautiously, step by deliberate step, away from me. When I looked at his feet, then my own, I realized that we were walking in sync. We continued this slow waltz for less than a minute, and as I ambled along, I couldn't help but wonder how many more times I could lift my knee before this master would simply lift his wings and disappear into the sun.

Lift he did, and as I made my way through the last few miles, my pace quickly followed.

2010 – The Road Ahead

Wow, it’s here, the new year.  Just like that, I lift my head again and look forward to new opportunities.  What does the new year hold for me?  Better yet, what will I grasp from the new year?  Will there be goals for me?  Will I lift the bar higher for myself?

I’ve been a big believer in committing to specific events as way to draw a hard line for myself -- to set daily, weekly even monthly training goals.  With Western States 100 on the calendar now, I’m in the process of  formulating my plan, and I expect there will be a few changes in store for my training and racing compared to the last couple of years.

I’ll lay some of those out here in this blog over the next few weeks.  In the mean time, I'm learning that being   motivated to run 365 days of the year is not realistic, nor necessary.  Running takes a lot of work, especially in the winter, at night, alone, in a hurry, when I’m beat down, from work or other things in life. To plan, train and then run through the season, including 50 and 100 mile events, I've learned I have to pick my battles, and carefully focus my energies toward specific events and periods.  I believe now, more than ever, that the more focused and tactical I am about directing my energies, the better I do as a runner.  Running 80 to 90 weeks is doable, but should be done for the right reasons, at the right time, with the event in mind.  Hill training, speed work, long runs, weight training, heat training, stretching, diet, good sleep and rest are all factors that will play a part on my path in 2010.

Capturing all these factors in my plan will be a balancing act, but it is my desire.  Whether I succeed on this path I cannot guarantee.  What I can guarantee, though, is that my success will come down really to one thing, the same thing that binds all of us to our goals and ambitions: Motivation.