Careful Where You Squat!

Today I had a near disaster experience.  I was so close to disaster that my heart rate is still jacked up about it.  I can only thank the running gods, maybe mother nature herself, for sparing me. 

It all happened on a trail during a 15 mile run.  I was moving well up the single track trail in Coyote Canyon, a few steps ahead of my brother who was on his mountain bike.  Just as I stopped to take in the view across Newport Coast Road, I received a call from my GI track.  This was not a routine call.  This was an emergency call.  I quickly grabbed some Charmin from my brothers Camelback and charged for the nearest bush.

As I was crouched down tending to my business, my brother made a wise crack about a rattlesnake biting me in the ass.  “Ha ha bro, I know what I’m doing out here, don’t try to scare me with your jokes”, I thought to myself.  But his words must have hit home, because just as quickly as the thought of a rattlesnake was moving through my sub conscience, my eyes were surveying the ground around me.  All was well until turned to my right…

Holy crap, there’s a bee hive two feet from my bare ass!  “Get the hell out of here!”, I remember yelling to my brother. I felt like a ballerina who had just soiled her tutu as I tip toed away while pulling up my shorts.   Thank god I had finished with the Charmin. 

Today I came very close to disaster.  If I had been a mere two feet to my right when I squatted, well, I don’t think I’d be here—sitting—to tell you the story.  

Thanks Beano

Cracks in the Cycling Empire?

I just finished reading the article Blood Brothers, published in this weekend’s edition of the Wall Street Journal.  The story is essentially Floyd Landis’ account of the systematic doping that goes on in the world of professional cycling, including Lance Armstrong.  The Tour de France begins its first stage today.

Though as I sit here today I’m disappointed in the sport of cycling, particularly the Tour de France, a race I have followed for over 25 years as a genuine fan.  I yearn for the days when American’s were considered nothing more than want-to-be’s by Europeans in the sport of cycling.    At least until Greg LeMond and Andy Hampsten showed up and spoiled their party.  Greg and Andy paved the way for today’s American’s cyclists.  They toiled in the Alps and Pyrenees when most American’s didn’t even know the meaning of peloton.  Or EPO.  Or testosterone patches.

What has cycling become?  From my vantage point it's is nothing more than a shell of its former self, held together as a sport by extremely well-off sponsors and media hype.  When money enters the game, the rules change.  People do things that they wont do for the simple joy of it.  I’m all for making a living in sport.  But it’s gone way beyond that.  Sponsors want market exposure, product branding, and sales.  Isn’t that what capitalism is all about?  Are the riders being exploited? What about the fans?  If drugs are really happening, and I think they are, the answer to those two questions is affirmative.

This wasn’t intended to be a rant, but I’m just so disappointed in the sport right now.  I so much wanted Floyd Landis to assume the title that Greg and Lance held before him, but it wasn’t to be.  When he rode uncontested for most of a stage in one of the most dramatic comebacks in the history of sports, only to be dethroned by a drug test, was for me, simply, depressing. Now that he has come clean and said what he has said he can at last breathe deep, look his mom in the eye, and not blink.  There is something to be said for being able to do just that.  I think our grandparents would place that above standing on the podium in terms of a life value.  I’m not sure our generation would.

  

Western States 2010 – Lessons Learned

I came to this year’s Western States with three goals in mind. First, simply get to the finish line regardless of time.  Not too exciting for some but the way I see it anything can happen during 100 miles and nothing can be taken for granted out there.  I also knew my two daughters would be waiting for me at the finish and seeing them was number one for me.  Second, beat last year’s time.  Again, not a huge thing but it was something I was thinking going in.  Third, run under 22 hours. 

My third goal was my stretch goal and I chose it a couple of weeks ago after starting my taper.  I felt my conditioning was very good, my training had gone well and I had no injuries.  This would have been 90 minutes faster than my time last year.  I knew all the key aid station splits I needed to hit to achieve this time, and I hit every one—Duncan Canyon (23.8 miles in 4 hours), Robinson Flat (29.7 miles in 5:20), Michigan Bluff (55.7 miles in 11:23) and Forest Hill (62 miles in 12:56).  There was only one problem.  By the time I hit Michigan Bluff, my legs (quads again, surprise!) were toast and I was reduced yet again to a gimp-like shuffle for much of the last 25 miles.    

As the race continued through the night, and my goal of running under 22 hours was slipping away, the situation started to take toll on my mind.  How can my goal slip so quickly from my grasp?  Why did my quads fail me yet again?  What didn’t I do right in my training?  It was then I realized I was running over my head.  Maybe I should’ve set the bar lower.  Despite my perils, my crew and pacer were outstanding.  Rob (pacer), Jeff, Dawn, my wife Jen and two daughters were all there to get me through some rough spots with words of encouragement, nutrition and supplies. 

Another one of my goals this year was to get to the River Crossing (mile 78) during day light.  When my pacer Rob and I left the Cal 3 aid station around 8:30 pm, I remember asking one of the aid station crew how far it was to the River.  When someone said four miles I thought we had a fighting chance to make it by twilight.  But when we were still running after 5 miles (not 4 miles!) and darkness had set in I started to lose it.  I let a few f-bombs fly. 

The night wore on and eventually Rob and I forgot how to read a watch.  The race started at 5 am but for some reason we both assumed I had to finish by 4 am to go under 24 hours, let alone beat my time of 23:28 last year.  Not only was my stretch goal out of reach but my second goal (mistakenly) was now in question.  Another mental torpedo.  It’s weird what a full moon and no sleep can do to your mind.  Not realizing we were adding an hour to my actual time, we rolled into Highway 49 (mile 93) around 2:15 am. 

Since I thought I only had 1 hour and 45 minutes left, I pulled up a chair, sat down and said to Rob, Jeff and Dawn I didn’t give a damn what time I came in anymore.  I’d decided I’d had it, and that I wasn’t going make it under 24 hours. I invited everyone to sit and bullshit with me for a while...kind of a mini pity party.  It was then Jeff looked at me with a puzzled face and said I actually still had 2 hours and 45 minutes to finish under 24. Rob and I and looked at each other realizing what we had done wrong and just got up and kept moving.  From then on my focus went from just getting to the finish line to beating my time from last year. 

But enough of that already.  I finished under last years time, and I’m proud of that.  But what I’m most proud of is what happened at the finish line.  As I entered the stadium and rounded the last turn on the track at Placer high school, there stood my two daughters, ages six and eleven, waiting to take my hand and run with me through the finish line.  This was the moment I was waiting for.  The moment I kept visualizing in my mind through the race.  The moment that kept me pushing forward, despite the ups and downs.  As I approached my girls I could see them, smiling, knowing they were about to be part of something pretty cool.  When I reached them I asked them to take my hand, and just like that the three of us ran those final, precious, steps together through the finish line.

Western States Live Internet Broadcast

For those of you interested in following the race via the internet go to this link. Every runner's progress will be posted throughout the race.  My number is 140.

Bands Making my Ipod Playlist for WS 100

Moby, The Chrystal Method, Banco de Gaia, Boards of Canada, Incubus, Blink 182, The Offspring, 30 Seconds to Mars, Foo Fighters, Third Eye Blind, Paramore, Radiohead, Paul Van Dyke, Linkin Park, The Killers, Rise Against, The Smashing Pumpkins, Tom Petty, others.    

Should be enough to get me some ups, and hopefully through the downs.   

Six days....Rock it!

To Lift, Or Not to Lift?

Last year’s Western States reduced my quads to petrified stumps from a forest of doom. Have you ever run on stumps? I don’t recommend it. They’re not responsive and they don’t fit well to your hips.


For this years Western States I”ve decided to employ a stump grinding strategy: weight lifting. Fact is I used to lift weights regularly when I was running marathons. It helped me avoid injury from all the pounding on the hard surfaces. But when I started running mostly trails I stopped lifting consistently for some reason. I didn’t think it was that important. I think I was wrong.

This year I’ve started again, focusing only on my quads for downhill running, and my arms for carrying water bottles over the long distances. My regimen is pretty simple and, since I’m defiantly not looking to “bulk up”, stresses high reps with low weights. Here is what I do:

Two sessions per week that last no more than 20 minutes.

Quads
Single Leg Squats – Four sets (two sets each leg, alternating) with 20 reps each (stepping backward) standing up using a 50 to 60 pound barbell over my shoulders. I prefer the backward step vs forward lunge because it gives more isolation on the quad.

Traditional Squats – Two sets with 20 reps standing up using 80 lbs barbell over my shoulders. Sometimes if I’m in a hurry (like most of the time) I’ll just use the same weight as the single leg squats and go right into these sets with no break. If I use the lighter weight I’ll throw another 10 reps in the set. These also help with the back and glute muscles.

Arms
Single Arm Curls -- Two sets x 100 reps (50 each arm, alternating every curl) standing up using 15 lbs dumbbells. I do these with a good rhythm to simulate the running movement.

Single Arm Tri Extensions -- Four sets x 25 reps of single arm tri extension (over head) standing up using same 15 lbs dumbbell as curls. I like to incorporate these sets in with my curl sets. So, I start with the curl set, do 100 curls (50 each arm alternating), then go right into the tri extension with my right arm and do 25 reps, then move to my left arm and do 25 reps. Keeping the weights in my hands the through all the sets adds another element of fatigue which I believe builds endurance.

In the past I've used heavier weights with fewer reps. However, by doing this I tend to gain size in my arms which is NOT what I want (no Mr. Universe ambitions here!). Ultimately, as a runner, I'm seeking the strength from my weight lifting to go the distance, avoid injury and combat fatigue. I believe I get all of this from lifting weights.

However, with a family and a full time job that does NOT include running, my goal is to be as efficient as possible. To save time I often run from the gym after work and head straight in to lift when I’m done running. Or, if I’m running from home on the weekends where there is a gym 1.3 miles away, I’ll plan to run by the gym toward the end of the run and stop in to lift before I’m done. I prefer lifting after a run because my muscles are warmed up and I feel better doing it.

If you are starting to lift for the first time, go easy with lighter weigths and lower reps until you've been at it several months. Also, there is no "right" weight, or right workout. There can be variation on your workouts, and it is good to mix things up. I recommend working with lighter weights first and focus on increasing the number of reps before you add more weight, particularly if you are in an endurance sport.

So, to lift, or not to lift? If that is the question, I prefer to lift. 

Western States—20 Days and Counting

The last few months of training now wind down to a long awaited taper.  With just under three weeks remaining before the race I will be “tapering” my miles down by 20%, 40% and 60%, respectively.  Unlike the past couple of years, though, I plan to continue doing a couple of more difficult workouts per week, namely tempo and hill work. 

Today was a great effort and good indicator of my overall fitness.  I dragged Joe R out to the Cleveland National Forest and we ran to the top of Santiago Peak via the Holy Jim Trail.  This run had it all—a 4,000 foot climb in the first 8 miles, altitude, heat and flies!  I’ve never been buzzed so badly by bugs in my life!  We had to run the last couple miles to the peak waving twigs in front our face just to keep them from getting in our eyes. I actually choked at one point when one got down my throat.

Looking back I think my training has been on target.  My weekly miles have been averaging around 85, with two 90 mile and one 100 mile week, with about 10% of that on the elliptical machine.  What I’m most happy about is that I’ve been injury free.  Recovery has been a big focus for me.  I’ve constantly monitored my body.   If I feel too tired, I take a day off, or run easy that day and ultimately I don’t hesitate to put off the next hard work out.  In this same light, I’ve been consistently stretching and lifting weights. 

In the end, it’s all about the journey.  And so far I’m enjoying the ride!
  

Snow Year at Western States?

After enduring a rather wet winter here in California, I’ve been anxiously watching the snow levels in Squaw Valley. With only 24 days before the start of Western States, its looking more likely, if not certain, that we will be running a significant portion of the first 30 miles of the course in snow. Gulp!


How many miles will we be on snow? Not sure, but race officials sent the following email to race participants…."How many miles of snow should we expect on race weekend? We should have a better idea what the race weekend snow conditions will be by June 19th. We'll share that information with you when we have it. Ultimately, we take whatever the mountain gives us.”

Note: italics provided by this blogger for emphasis. We take whatever the mountain gives us. Doesn’t that sound cool!? Wow, now I feel like the Marlboro man getting ready for an assault on some remote peak in the Punjab province! What I really am is a skinny old man trying to get from a posh ski resort to a quaint town named Auburn.

With 78 inches of snow remaining at the top of Squaw as recently as two days ago, my guess for race day is, well, snow. What does that mean? I’m not quite sure. I haven’t done any meaningful runs on snow, so I’m about to find out. I guess I’ll take whatever the mountain gives me!

Get'n It Done At Six Years Old

Charlotte and her dad crossing the finish 

At the start of yesterdays 5k run/walk, throngs of kids, parents, dogs, strollers and razors converged on a four foot wide sidewalk.  Yet, before most even crossed the starting line, a little girl with blond hair wearing a white tee shirt was out in front pushing the pace.  "Wait up", I heard Abby saying to her cousin Charlotte.  Abby and I ran for a while until we caught up with her cousin.  Then, like children, we started skipping! And a tune entered my mind.  And we were singing...Lou, Lou, skip to my Lou; Lou, Lou, Skip to my Lou, Skip to my Lou my Darlin!

Things started heating up a bit along the course, so we stopped at an aid station for some cold water and I poured a little over Charlotte's head to keep her cool.   The volunteers were great and had stations set up at three different spots along a pretty course in El Dorado Park.  

We moved along well through the back stretch.  Then, around the half way point, I looked over my shoulder and saw a little guy approaching quickly.  Sure enough this little guy no more than 3 and half feet tall danced by us with his grandfather to take the lead.  But Charlotte remained undaunted.  She continued to run through the hottest section. I grabbed a few cuties at the next aid station and handed her some bite size pieces.  

Then, just as things started to get really tough, Charlotte's uncle Al joined us for the final mile and half. Jokes and behavior only a six year old could appreciate ensued.  Our pace quickened.  Al and his wife April helped organize the event to raise money for a cure for Tuberous Sclerosis, which afflicts their daughters Abby and Amelia.  What's amazing is they made over $100,000 for the event!  Congrats Al and Apes.    

As we rounded the corner to the finish line, Charlotte kicked it into another gear and made a bee line to the finish.  What a race!  Six years old and get'n it done in 44 minutes.  Rock it Char!  Thanks to all the volunteers, especially Al and Apes, for putting on a fun and successful event!                          

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.