Well, not so much with training, as with keeping up with this blog. If memory serves, it's been a couple of weeks since I've written anything.
A lot has happened in the world of ultra running since my last post. The Marathon Des Sables was run earlier in the month and last week the world championship 100K was won with an average pace of 6:10 which simply blows me away. The Masssanutten 100 is two weeks from tomorrow, and 2 guys from WV Mountain Trail Runners club are participating. Adam Casseday and Dan Lehman will be among the field. Dan broke a few ribs early in the month, and he's still going to run it. What an inspiration? I'm looking for Adam to be a top finisher, if not the top guy. Dan and Adam have both been incredibly helpful to me in my training for Highlands Sky. The running community is really an amazing group of people.
My training has been going pretty well. I did a 23/8 back to back two weeks ago and 23/10 last weekend. I have a 24/10 tomorrow. I don't know what it is, but I continually fret before my long weekend runs. I think I'm just getting burned out on Otter Creek, but it's the most convenient venue for long trails for me. I guess I'll just keep chugging along. A few weeks ago, I wrote of the washed out section of trail with the downed tree. It seems to get more difficult to negotiate each time I pass it. I just keep my fingers crossed that it doesn't get too muddy. I can see myself getting down one side of the tree and not being able to get back up the other side.
I feel like I'm getting stronger, but am still filled with self doubt. Adam suggested I start doing some hard climbs, and I've worked those into my mid week program. I did my first repeat on the climb last evening and felt pretty good. 1.5 miles of fairly steep uphill, then down the back side and 1.5 back up on the repeat. Next week is a cycle down week for me. I'm probably ready for it.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
I Was Ready to Hang It Up.
Following the Highlands Sky trainer, I was feeling pretty good physically. I did an easy 8 miles on Sunday following the trainer and last week was a "cycle down" week. I've not heard that term before, but the Santa Clarita Runners use it in their training schedule. It was a recovery week, and came at a perfect time. I could definitely tell a difference in the way I felt with the lighter schedule that week. Now we're ramped back up again. Back to that in a moment.
So last Saturday night I was hanging out, reading and just generally relaxing. For some reason, the funk came rolling back in. I don't know why I get that way, but I was ready to hang it up. I felt the same way Sunday morning, when I was scheduled for 8 with nice weather. I was actually ready to call the race director (Dan Lehman) and tell him to give my slot to someone on the "wait list." Thankfully I didn't go that far. I ate, got dressed and headed to the trail head. After 200 yards on the trail, all of the gloom went away. I just don't get it. The emotional ups and downs are making me nuts. It turned out to be a great run. Moderate temps and mostly sunny skies. Much of the mud had dried up which was very nice. In stead of sucking my shoes off, the dried mud mad for a soft foot fall, almost like running on a high end track.
I did have one negative experience Sunday. I passed a couple of backpackers who had 3 unleashed dogs with them. I'm not a canine phobe, and in more than 35 years of running, I have only had one semi bad experience with a dog, and it wasn't really that bad. In fact, I kind of fancy myself the "dog whisperer." Anyway, I stopped running and this little ankle grabber approached me. I put my hand down so Fido could sniff me, and the little mutt nailed me. Actually he just tore my running glove and didn't break the skin. The embarrassed owner said the shots were current. No harm, no foul, so I headed on down the trail. The funk is still in remission and I've felt good this week.
My friend, Adam Casseday (Adam is running the Massanutten 100 in Virginia next month), suggested I start working some climbing runs into my weekly schedule, in preparation for the first half of Highlands Sky. He suggested a couple of routes "in my back yard," one of which I had previously ridden on my mountain bike. I didn't even think of it, but it really fit the bill. A mile and a half of continuous uphill, most of it fairly steep. I ran it Wednesday evening for the first time and felt pretty good. Ran the entire thing which was a major goal. I'm going to run one more single on it next week and then begin some repeats. I know it will pay off.
I'm feeling stronger and know my training is paying off. I just have to keep warding off these seemingly spontaneous funks. Thanks to everyone, runners and non-runners alike who continue to give me support and positive feedback.
So last Saturday night I was hanging out, reading and just generally relaxing. For some reason, the funk came rolling back in. I don't know why I get that way, but I was ready to hang it up. I felt the same way Sunday morning, when I was scheduled for 8 with nice weather. I was actually ready to call the race director (Dan Lehman) and tell him to give my slot to someone on the "wait list." Thankfully I didn't go that far. I ate, got dressed and headed to the trail head. After 200 yards on the trail, all of the gloom went away. I just don't get it. The emotional ups and downs are making me nuts. It turned out to be a great run. Moderate temps and mostly sunny skies. Much of the mud had dried up which was very nice. In stead of sucking my shoes off, the dried mud mad for a soft foot fall, almost like running on a high end track.
I did have one negative experience Sunday. I passed a couple of backpackers who had 3 unleashed dogs with them. I'm not a canine phobe, and in more than 35 years of running, I have only had one semi bad experience with a dog, and it wasn't really that bad. In fact, I kind of fancy myself the "dog whisperer." Anyway, I stopped running and this little ankle grabber approached me. I put my hand down so Fido could sniff me, and the little mutt nailed me. Actually he just tore my running glove and didn't break the skin. The embarrassed owner said the shots were current. No harm, no foul, so I headed on down the trail. The funk is still in remission and I've felt good this week.
My friend, Adam Casseday (Adam is running the Massanutten 100 in Virginia next month), suggested I start working some climbing runs into my weekly schedule, in preparation for the first half of Highlands Sky. He suggested a couple of routes "in my back yard," one of which I had previously ridden on my mountain bike. I didn't even think of it, but it really fit the bill. A mile and a half of continuous uphill, most of it fairly steep. I ran it Wednesday evening for the first time and felt pretty good. Ran the entire thing which was a major goal. I'm going to run one more single on it next week and then begin some repeats. I know it will pay off.
I'm feeling stronger and know my training is paying off. I just have to keep warding off these seemingly spontaneous funks. Thanks to everyone, runners and non-runners alike who continue to give me support and positive feedback.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Well, that was humbling!
So Saturday was the first of two trainers for Highlands Sky. The second one is in May and I was going to run it too, until I figured out that is the date of Hillary's graduation from law school, and I'm sure not going to miss that. Speaking of Hill, she's coming home this weekend and I am super psyched. First time I will have seen her since Christmas break. I cannot believe she is graduating in another month. "Seems like only yesterday...." Time really does fly.
The trainer really was a good experience. For one, it gave me the opportunity to see the first half of the course. I have hiked some of that, but the first 10 or 12 miles or so were new to me and there are places where it would be easy to take a wrong turn. I still may, but at least I remember the major intersections, I think. The elevation gain/loss/gain was impressive. 2,000 feet at a 2% grade on the first climb. Everyone told me to plan on speed walking it, but nah, I'm the tough guy. I'll run it. NOT!!! I am now a confirmed believer in walking when it's called for. It was called for!
Met some good folks. I finally got to meet Dan Lehman, the director of Highlands Sky. Dan couldn't run on Saturday because he busted a couple of ribs in a motorcycle encounter. I emailed him the other night and shared my experience with the deer and my Harley. I told Dan I really did feel his pain. I ran 14 through 18 with a guy from Annapolis. I don't think he'd done much hill work. Said he had run the C&O Canal Trail some. He did pretty well, but I think we were both hurting. I waited for him at the South Prong Trailhead so he wouldn't go the wrong way, and then didn't see him again after he hit the road.
I'm beginning to stress over cutoff times. I have no doubt I can finish 40, but the cuts for the aid stations have me fretting. I guess we'll see what we'll see. I can't stand the thought of DNF. Which begs the philosophical question, "Is it better to not try and avoid a DNF than it is to give it all you've got and see what happens"? I guess we all know the answer to that one.
Back at the Lanesville cabin, a small group was sitting around de-compressing; eating noodles, drinking beer, talking about the next challenge. Casseday was still there and he offered me some sage advice, which I of course ignored. He told me not to be anal about my scheduled Sunday run and if I needed that as a recovery day to take it off. He said as we get older, it takes longer to recover, which of course I already knew. Even though I'm 65, I just don't think of myself as older, even though I clearly am. Anyway, I was pretty beat Saturday night, but felt almost human on Sunday morning, so I hustled through my pre-run routine of Kashi Harvest Wheat cereal with Buckwheat Honey and strawberries; a banana and lots of water. I threw some cookies in my pack and out the door I went. After the first half mile, I questioned the wisdom of my decision to run that day. I was scheduled for 10 (thank you Santa Clarita Runners), but I quickly decided to bail on the final 2. I ran at a pretty slow (slower than normal) pace, hit the 4 mile turn around and started back for the trail head. I thumbed my nose at the trail junction where I normally break off and add 2 or 2 1/2 extra miles and kept heading for my car. As fatigued as I was, I managed all 8 miles with no falls. That is cause to celebrate. This turns out to be a down week on my training schedule and it really comes at a good time. Recovery coupled with shorter weekend runs will allow me more time with Hillary. I'm really greatful for that.
Yellowstone NP with upper Lamar Valley in the distance
The trainer really was a good experience. For one, it gave me the opportunity to see the first half of the course. I have hiked some of that, but the first 10 or 12 miles or so were new to me and there are places where it would be easy to take a wrong turn. I still may, but at least I remember the major intersections, I think. The elevation gain/loss/gain was impressive. 2,000 feet at a 2% grade on the first climb. Everyone told me to plan on speed walking it, but nah, I'm the tough guy. I'll run it. NOT!!! I am now a confirmed believer in walking when it's called for. It was called for!
Met some good folks. I finally got to meet Dan Lehman, the director of Highlands Sky. Dan couldn't run on Saturday because he busted a couple of ribs in a motorcycle encounter. I emailed him the other night and shared my experience with the deer and my Harley. I told Dan I really did feel his pain. I ran 14 through 18 with a guy from Annapolis. I don't think he'd done much hill work. Said he had run the C&O Canal Trail some. He did pretty well, but I think we were both hurting. I waited for him at the South Prong Trailhead so he wouldn't go the wrong way, and then didn't see him again after he hit the road.
I'm beginning to stress over cutoff times. I have no doubt I can finish 40, but the cuts for the aid stations have me fretting. I guess we'll see what we'll see. I can't stand the thought of DNF. Which begs the philosophical question, "Is it better to not try and avoid a DNF than it is to give it all you've got and see what happens"? I guess we all know the answer to that one.
Back at the Lanesville cabin, a small group was sitting around de-compressing; eating noodles, drinking beer, talking about the next challenge. Casseday was still there and he offered me some sage advice, which I of course ignored. He told me not to be anal about my scheduled Sunday run and if I needed that as a recovery day to take it off. He said as we get older, it takes longer to recover, which of course I already knew. Even though I'm 65, I just don't think of myself as older, even though I clearly am. Anyway, I was pretty beat Saturday night, but felt almost human on Sunday morning, so I hustled through my pre-run routine of Kashi Harvest Wheat cereal with Buckwheat Honey and strawberries; a banana and lots of water. I threw some cookies in my pack and out the door I went. After the first half mile, I questioned the wisdom of my decision to run that day. I was scheduled for 10 (thank you Santa Clarita Runners), but I quickly decided to bail on the final 2. I ran at a pretty slow (slower than normal) pace, hit the 4 mile turn around and started back for the trail head. I thumbed my nose at the trail junction where I normally break off and add 2 or 2 1/2 extra miles and kept heading for my car. As fatigued as I was, I managed all 8 miles with no falls. That is cause to celebrate. This turns out to be a down week on my training schedule and it really comes at a good time. Recovery coupled with shorter weekend runs will allow me more time with Hillary. I'm really greatful for that.
Yellowstone NP with upper Lamar Valley in the distance
Friday, March 30, 2012
Chatin Up the "Neighbors" & Unscrambling a Scrambled Brain
Back in my neophyte running days, maybe '77 or '78, I was midway through a 3 or4 mile run one Saturday morning when one of the "neighbors" (here you can substitute any of a number of disparaging names) rolled down the window of his pickup truck, fully equipped with an Easy Rider Rifle Rack, and "chucked" a loaf of Wonder Bread ("Helps Build Strong Bodies 12 Ways") right at my head. He missed and the rest of the way home I kept telling myself it could have been a can of peaches or something similarly hard. I've had a thousand laughs over that incident through the years, but I also focused in on a survival strategy for running among the "non-believers," the neighbors.
Bond with the neighbors. Ever since the Wonder Bread incident I wave at every oncoming car or truck while I'm running. I think it works pretty well too. On the back roads, I think we all tend to see the same vehicles again and again, at least for the most part. I really believe by waving, it establishes a relationship or bond with the driver and he or she then has less of a propensity to try and run me down, or throw a loaf of bread at me. Most, and I emphasize most, folks are really decent and will slow down or pull away from the shoulder to avoid any close calls.
Now that Spring is in the air, many people are out in their yards or sitting on their front porches. I carry the waving philosophy farther here. I make it a point to speak to everyone I see within earshot. Just a simple "great evening" or "this weather is more like it." I know I'm speaking to the same folks to whom I wave, but I still maintain it helps to build that stronger bond. Helps them to not sic Fido on me too.
Spring is such a great time of the year. Longer days, warmer temps, less ice and snow (most of the time). Last week during a road run, I saw a dead Ring Neck Racer. For you non-herpetologists out there, that is a very small (6 or 9 inch snake). They are docile, non-venomous, and very pretty. It saddened me to see this little guy dead. Still, a sure sign of Spring.
Last evening, as I was running 8 on the Chenoweth Creek Road near its namesake creek and my home, I ran through a large spinner fall of Mayflies. I think they were Hendricksons or Quill Gordons, but couldn't tell for sure. Spinners are the final life phase of the Mayfly and get their name from "spinning" above the water just before they fall and lay their eggs in the film, to begin the life cycle all over again. We'll see the results of that next spring. These bugs were spinning above the road. Maybe they were confused, but Chenoweth Creek runs right beside the road where I encountered them. For ten yards or so, they were so thick, I had to be careful not to ingest one or more of them. Another welcome sign of Spring.
"If your heart can believe it and your mind can
conceive it, your legs can achieve it."
Unknown
Bond with the neighbors. Ever since the Wonder Bread incident I wave at every oncoming car or truck while I'm running. I think it works pretty well too. On the back roads, I think we all tend to see the same vehicles again and again, at least for the most part. I really believe by waving, it establishes a relationship or bond with the driver and he or she then has less of a propensity to try and run me down, or throw a loaf of bread at me. Most, and I emphasize most, folks are really decent and will slow down or pull away from the shoulder to avoid any close calls.
Now that Spring is in the air, many people are out in their yards or sitting on their front porches. I carry the waving philosophy farther here. I make it a point to speak to everyone I see within earshot. Just a simple "great evening" or "this weather is more like it." I know I'm speaking to the same folks to whom I wave, but I still maintain it helps to build that stronger bond. Helps them to not sic Fido on me too.
Spring is such a great time of the year. Longer days, warmer temps, less ice and snow (most of the time). Last week during a road run, I saw a dead Ring Neck Racer. For you non-herpetologists out there, that is a very small (6 or 9 inch snake). They are docile, non-venomous, and very pretty. It saddened me to see this little guy dead. Still, a sure sign of Spring.
Last evening, as I was running 8 on the Chenoweth Creek Road near its namesake creek and my home, I ran through a large spinner fall of Mayflies. I think they were Hendricksons or Quill Gordons, but couldn't tell for sure. Spinners are the final life phase of the Mayfly and get their name from "spinning" above the water just before they fall and lay their eggs in the film, to begin the life cycle all over again. We'll see the results of that next spring. These bugs were spinning above the road. Maybe they were confused, but Chenoweth Creek runs right beside the road where I encountered them. For ten yards or so, they were so thick, I had to be careful not to ingest one or more of them. Another welcome sign of Spring.
"If your heart can believe it and your mind can
conceive it, your legs can achieve it."
Unknown
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Big Two-Hearted River -- Hemingway
Some days I feel like Nick Adams, in Ernest Hemmingway's immortal Big Two-Hearted River. I don't know why that is, but occasionally I face my weekend training runs in Otter Creek (OC) with some sense of dread. I don't know if it's related to weather forecasts (which are only partially accurate in the mountains), stale legs, or what, but nonetheless, it is sometimes there.
Last Saturday is a perfect example. I was scheduled for 18 and the weather looked wet. I don't mind running roads in the rain so much, because I can run fast enough to generate heat and not become chilled. I definitely do not run fast on trails and I was fretting about how to dress. I didn't want to be over dressed (and of course over heat), but I sure as hell did not want to be under dressed and get caught in a hard rain and wind.
So I mopped through my pre-run routine. Added an extra spoonful of Buckwheat Honey to my cereal (the old comfort food approach to adversity) and ate. The skies were not quite leaden, but close. I packed up my gels, cookies, water, and headed out the door. So far, no rain but it sure looked threatening.
I arrived at the trail head with out using windshield wipers and thought to myself, maybe I'll dodge the bullet. It was 50 degrees, cloudy skies and no rain. I saddled up; hydration belt, food pouch, and the ever present hat & gloves, and hit the trail. As I settled into a steady pace, my sense of gloom seemed to vanish. OC was no longer as dark and foreboding as it had been in my mind earlier that morning. A feeling of well being seemed to wash away all the anxiety leading up to that day's run. Was the "depression" a sign of over training? That's one of the symptoms, but I don't think I'm close to the point of over training.
Overall, the day was going well. I enjoyed a couple of brief breaks in the cloud cover, allowing a little sunlight to bathe the forest floor. The trail was somewhat muddy from the previous night's rain; certainly muddier that the weekend before, but not terribly bad. I finished my loop on the OC Trail and started up Yellow Creek Trail to its juncture with the McGowan Mt. Trail. I saw a large cock Ruffed Grouse run across the trail, just before I started up McGowan. I had run McGowan Mt. a few weeks before, but did not go to the end. I wasn't sure how far I had run (where is that GPS function when you really need it?) or where the turnaround was, so I cut that day short by about 3/4 of a mile. After consulting with Casseday following that run, he told me how to ID the next trail junction, and sure enough on Saturday I soon saw the rock cairn marking the intersection with the Moore Run Trail.
I'm going to tell a story on myself here. I pride myself in being able to navigate my way around in the back country. Rocky Mountains, Smokies, Appies, you name it, I've always been confident in my ability to get from point A to point B. I've always thought it impossible to get lost in WV. You may not come out where your car is parked, but surely, with a little common sense, you can get back to familiar territory. Anyway, I passed the rock cairn marking Moore Run and kept running. I was looking for a cut back that would tie into a forest service road. After running for another quarter mile or so, I knew I was going in the wrong direction. Instead of going West toward the FS road, I was heading East back towards OC. Well time for a turn around and re-assessment. I backtracked to the rock cairn and carefully searched for a trail going West. There it was, somewhat masked by some undergrowth, but never the less, a distinct trail. In another 400 or 500 yards I hit the McGowan Mountain FS Road. I was exceedingly happy to know where I was and how much further I had to go. It's interesting, but there was an SUV with Diplomatic license plates parked at the trail head. I still wonder who they were and how they found their way to "boon dock" WV.
The road was a very welcome relief following several hours of trail running. I felt like I was flying, even including a couple of miles of uphill. It was great. I could eat and drink without watching where I was stepping. I was zoned out, just enjoying the views. To my right, I could see down into the Shavers Fork drainage and could even see the river itself (what, 2000 feet below?) a couple of times. The Otter Creek Wilderness was on my left. After cresting the ridge line and a mile and a half of downhill, I came back to the Yellow Creek Trail. It felt like home court advantage, simply because I have run this trail so many times, since late winter when it was covered in snow and bear tracks, through early spring. I did fall twice going down YC. I think my legs were just really fatigued at that point, and I didn't realize it. Nothing major, just carelessness. I was angry with myself. Finally, back to the car, more fluids and the rest of a peanut butter sandwich. Visions of a hot shower were swimming through my head.
I had left Nick Adams somewhere far back on the OC Trail. I missed the rain completely, or should I say the rain missed me.
This Saturday is the Highland Sky Trainer. I'm looking forward to some new country (although I've hiked much of that through the years) and running with some companions. It has to be safer, right?
One other bit of personal good news; Danielle ran 5 on the tread last night and her knee seems to be doing well. She's feeling good about it, as am I. We are both looking forward to Wineglass this fall.
Last Saturday is a perfect example. I was scheduled for 18 and the weather looked wet. I don't mind running roads in the rain so much, because I can run fast enough to generate heat and not become chilled. I definitely do not run fast on trails and I was fretting about how to dress. I didn't want to be over dressed (and of course over heat), but I sure as hell did not want to be under dressed and get caught in a hard rain and wind.
So I mopped through my pre-run routine. Added an extra spoonful of Buckwheat Honey to my cereal (the old comfort food approach to adversity) and ate. The skies were not quite leaden, but close. I packed up my gels, cookies, water, and headed out the door. So far, no rain but it sure looked threatening.
I arrived at the trail head with out using windshield wipers and thought to myself, maybe I'll dodge the bullet. It was 50 degrees, cloudy skies and no rain. I saddled up; hydration belt, food pouch, and the ever present hat & gloves, and hit the trail. As I settled into a steady pace, my sense of gloom seemed to vanish. OC was no longer as dark and foreboding as it had been in my mind earlier that morning. A feeling of well being seemed to wash away all the anxiety leading up to that day's run. Was the "depression" a sign of over training? That's one of the symptoms, but I don't think I'm close to the point of over training.
Overall, the day was going well. I enjoyed a couple of brief breaks in the cloud cover, allowing a little sunlight to bathe the forest floor. The trail was somewhat muddy from the previous night's rain; certainly muddier that the weekend before, but not terribly bad. I finished my loop on the OC Trail and started up Yellow Creek Trail to its juncture with the McGowan Mt. Trail. I saw a large cock Ruffed Grouse run across the trail, just before I started up McGowan. I had run McGowan Mt. a few weeks before, but did not go to the end. I wasn't sure how far I had run (where is that GPS function when you really need it?) or where the turnaround was, so I cut that day short by about 3/4 of a mile. After consulting with Casseday following that run, he told me how to ID the next trail junction, and sure enough on Saturday I soon saw the rock cairn marking the intersection with the Moore Run Trail.
I'm going to tell a story on myself here. I pride myself in being able to navigate my way around in the back country. Rocky Mountains, Smokies, Appies, you name it, I've always been confident in my ability to get from point A to point B. I've always thought it impossible to get lost in WV. You may not come out where your car is parked, but surely, with a little common sense, you can get back to familiar territory. Anyway, I passed the rock cairn marking Moore Run and kept running. I was looking for a cut back that would tie into a forest service road. After running for another quarter mile or so, I knew I was going in the wrong direction. Instead of going West toward the FS road, I was heading East back towards OC. Well time for a turn around and re-assessment. I backtracked to the rock cairn and carefully searched for a trail going West. There it was, somewhat masked by some undergrowth, but never the less, a distinct trail. In another 400 or 500 yards I hit the McGowan Mountain FS Road. I was exceedingly happy to know where I was and how much further I had to go. It's interesting, but there was an SUV with Diplomatic license plates parked at the trail head. I still wonder who they were and how they found their way to "boon dock" WV.
The road was a very welcome relief following several hours of trail running. I felt like I was flying, even including a couple of miles of uphill. It was great. I could eat and drink without watching where I was stepping. I was zoned out, just enjoying the views. To my right, I could see down into the Shavers Fork drainage and could even see the river itself (what, 2000 feet below?) a couple of times. The Otter Creek Wilderness was on my left. After cresting the ridge line and a mile and a half of downhill, I came back to the Yellow Creek Trail. It felt like home court advantage, simply because I have run this trail so many times, since late winter when it was covered in snow and bear tracks, through early spring. I did fall twice going down YC. I think my legs were just really fatigued at that point, and I didn't realize it. Nothing major, just carelessness. I was angry with myself. Finally, back to the car, more fluids and the rest of a peanut butter sandwich. Visions of a hot shower were swimming through my head.
I had left Nick Adams somewhere far back on the OC Trail. I missed the rain completely, or should I say the rain missed me.
This Saturday is the Highland Sky Trainer. I'm looking forward to some new country (although I've hiked much of that through the years) and running with some companions. It has to be safer, right?
One other bit of personal good news; Danielle ran 5 on the tread last night and her knee seems to be doing well. She's feeling good about it, as am I. We are both looking forward to Wineglass this fall.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Ropes and 'biners
Never in my nearly 40 years of running have I ever thought about the need for technical climbing gear. After my 16 mile run last Saturday, I can no longer say that. More about climbing gear later.
Saturday I was especially stoked. It was a Bluebird day, not a cloud in the sky. It had been reasonably dry and warm (making for less mud on the trails) and Danielle was coming home that afternoon. I was fired up. At the trail head, the temperature was mild with very little wind, so I opted for compression shorts, a LS techie T-shirt and gloves. No wind pants or wind jacket (Yes, with a fist pump!) I quickly settled into a decent pace (for me) and after 4 miles had the first stream crossing of Otter Creek. It wasn't bad. Water was cold, but not numbing. After making it to the far side, I was back on the trail. It's crazy, but I passed a campsite my wife Cindy and I used back in the mid '70's.
One of the memories that came flooding back was about a mixed breed hound we had named Moonshine. Moonshine was what you could call a piece of work. She would bark at her own reflection in the water and bark at jet contrails in the sky. We always thought she was brain injured. At any rate, on that long ago backpacking trip, Cindy, Moonshine and I passed a camp along the trail. About a half mile further, we found a nice site and set up our camp. During this time, we had Moonshine on a long leash. We ate dinner, cleaned up and when it was time to turn in, we let Moonshine off the leash. She immediately took off, hell bent for leather, back toward the other campsite. Of course, Jim was hot on her trail. When I caught up with her, she was about 25 yards away from the other campsite, just standing in the middle of the trail barking. You talk about being embarrassed. I apologized profusely, thinking all the while how I was going to kill Moonshine and tell Cindy that it was a horrific accident. We kept "Moon" tied the rest of the night, and if I recall correctly, that was the last time we took her backpacking with us.
After passing the ancient campsite, I again had to cross Otter Creek. This time it was deeper, wider and swifter than the first crossing. I picked the most shallow, slowest part of the ford (not the most direct route) and started across, thinking "one mis-step dummy and you're history." I made it across uneventfully and continued on down the trail. I crossed Moore Run and then the trail began to run 40 or 50 feet above Otter Creek. It was absolutely gorgeous. I ran through a couple of beds of young ramps (a ramp is a kind of wild mountain leek; Allium tricoccum Aiton) I longed for a camera, but then thought I would probably just break it when/if I fell. The water was Gin clear and I could imagine the Native Brook Trout rising to my #16 Royal Wulff or a Little Black Stone Fly. There are several sets of pretty significant water falls ending in deep pools so clear you can see the gravel on the bottom. Not so in the preceding weeks when the stream was off color and high due to the snow melt and spring rains.
So, totally lost in the beauty of it all, I'm "truckin" on down the trail when all of a sudden the technical climbing gear issue raises its ugly head. The trail is high against the edge of a steep hill, 50 feet or so above the water. The trail had washed out and was blocked by a tree that had fallen during the washout. It was steep and slick. I had a couple of more miles before my turn around point and I "had" to get across to sound trail again. That's when I really thought a fixed line would be nice. Hand over hand, down and back up and on my merry way. Nah, that wasn't gonna happen. I tried to crawl over the downed tree, all the while knowing I was going to end up in the creek, or worse. Hand over hand, grabbing protruding roots and branches, I made my way back up to the trail. The Otter Creek Valley was getting wider and the creek getting larger. I passed several very nice campsites and suddenly there was my turnaround. I could see a large rock cairn on the far side of Otter Creek, marking the beginning of the Green Mountain Trail.
As I began making my way back towards the Condon Run Trail Head (my starting point) I ate part of a peanut butter sandwich and drank 5 or 6 oz's of water. I've begun experimenting with different foods for the Ultra. Call me a garbage gut, but so far everything seems to work just fine. Better to know that now than to find out something is causing stomach problems during the race. Then I was back at the washout. It may have been my imagination, but it seemed more difficult to navigate going back, than it was coming in. The footing was terrible and had I not been able to use my hands to grab branches, I wonder if I could have made it. (We are supposed to get fairly heavy rain on Saturday, so I am skipping that part of the trail this week. I just don't want to 'out dumb myself')
All in all, it was a great day. I must have nicked my ankle because it was tender on Sunday. I definitely favored it and was thankful I only had to do 10. By the way, I fell once on the Saturday run. Just carelessness. I guess I'm still doing better than a month ago when I was falling multiple times every time I went out.
"Never argue with an idiot. They'll bring
you down to their level & then beat you
with experience."
Unknown
Saturday I was especially stoked. It was a Bluebird day, not a cloud in the sky. It had been reasonably dry and warm (making for less mud on the trails) and Danielle was coming home that afternoon. I was fired up. At the trail head, the temperature was mild with very little wind, so I opted for compression shorts, a LS techie T-shirt and gloves. No wind pants or wind jacket (Yes, with a fist pump!) I quickly settled into a decent pace (for me) and after 4 miles had the first stream crossing of Otter Creek. It wasn't bad. Water was cold, but not numbing. After making it to the far side, I was back on the trail. It's crazy, but I passed a campsite my wife Cindy and I used back in the mid '70's.
One of the memories that came flooding back was about a mixed breed hound we had named Moonshine. Moonshine was what you could call a piece of work. She would bark at her own reflection in the water and bark at jet contrails in the sky. We always thought she was brain injured. At any rate, on that long ago backpacking trip, Cindy, Moonshine and I passed a camp along the trail. About a half mile further, we found a nice site and set up our camp. During this time, we had Moonshine on a long leash. We ate dinner, cleaned up and when it was time to turn in, we let Moonshine off the leash. She immediately took off, hell bent for leather, back toward the other campsite. Of course, Jim was hot on her trail. When I caught up with her, she was about 25 yards away from the other campsite, just standing in the middle of the trail barking. You talk about being embarrassed. I apologized profusely, thinking all the while how I was going to kill Moonshine and tell Cindy that it was a horrific accident. We kept "Moon" tied the rest of the night, and if I recall correctly, that was the last time we took her backpacking with us.
After passing the ancient campsite, I again had to cross Otter Creek. This time it was deeper, wider and swifter than the first crossing. I picked the most shallow, slowest part of the ford (not the most direct route) and started across, thinking "one mis-step dummy and you're history." I made it across uneventfully and continued on down the trail. I crossed Moore Run and then the trail began to run 40 or 50 feet above Otter Creek. It was absolutely gorgeous. I ran through a couple of beds of young ramps (a ramp is a kind of wild mountain leek; Allium tricoccum Aiton) I longed for a camera, but then thought I would probably just break it when/if I fell. The water was Gin clear and I could imagine the Native Brook Trout rising to my #16 Royal Wulff or a Little Black Stone Fly. There are several sets of pretty significant water falls ending in deep pools so clear you can see the gravel on the bottom. Not so in the preceding weeks when the stream was off color and high due to the snow melt and spring rains.
So, totally lost in the beauty of it all, I'm "truckin" on down the trail when all of a sudden the technical climbing gear issue raises its ugly head. The trail is high against the edge of a steep hill, 50 feet or so above the water. The trail had washed out and was blocked by a tree that had fallen during the washout. It was steep and slick. I had a couple of more miles before my turn around point and I "had" to get across to sound trail again. That's when I really thought a fixed line would be nice. Hand over hand, down and back up and on my merry way. Nah, that wasn't gonna happen. I tried to crawl over the downed tree, all the while knowing I was going to end up in the creek, or worse. Hand over hand, grabbing protruding roots and branches, I made my way back up to the trail. The Otter Creek Valley was getting wider and the creek getting larger. I passed several very nice campsites and suddenly there was my turnaround. I could see a large rock cairn on the far side of Otter Creek, marking the beginning of the Green Mountain Trail.
As I began making my way back towards the Condon Run Trail Head (my starting point) I ate part of a peanut butter sandwich and drank 5 or 6 oz's of water. I've begun experimenting with different foods for the Ultra. Call me a garbage gut, but so far everything seems to work just fine. Better to know that now than to find out something is causing stomach problems during the race. Then I was back at the washout. It may have been my imagination, but it seemed more difficult to navigate going back, than it was coming in. The footing was terrible and had I not been able to use my hands to grab branches, I wonder if I could have made it. (We are supposed to get fairly heavy rain on Saturday, so I am skipping that part of the trail this week. I just don't want to 'out dumb myself')
All in all, it was a great day. I must have nicked my ankle because it was tender on Sunday. I definitely favored it and was thankful I only had to do 10. By the way, I fell once on the Saturday run. Just carelessness. I guess I'm still doing better than a month ago when I was falling multiple times every time I went out.
"Never argue with an idiot. They'll bring
you down to their level & then beat you
with experience."
Unknown
Thursday, March 15, 2012
What Should I Call This?
I've been a slacker this week, when it comes to my Blog. Too many distractions, too much to do, you know all the excuses.
Last weekend was a cause to celebrate. The weather was improving, it was warmer and drier. The big whoop was I did 14 on Otter Creek & McGowan Mt. Trails with no falls. I cannot begin to tell you how happy I was about that. Actually I have somehow manged 3 successive days of running trails without a fall. Maybe I'm finally getting the hang of it (knock on wood). I actually feel like I'm getting stronger following several weekends of fairly serious frustration. I can tell you, my quads think so.
My training schedule for this weekend calls for 16 & 10. Gonna stay on the Otter Creek Trail and ford Otter Creek, following the trail until it intersects with the Green Mt. Trail which should be about 7.5 one way. I'll throw another mile on the back end to wrap up the 16. I'm pretty psyched; the weather is supposed to be in the 70's (in town) and only a 30% chance or so of rain. It will be nice not to have to layer up before heading out. The local weather has been amazing this week; in the 70's and sunny. I actually did a road run with no shirt last evening. It was great. First time since last October. I just know it's gonna be hotter than hell this summer. The winter has been so mild and with these unseasonably warm temps in mid March, it's gotta be a hot summer. Heat training makes us all tougher though, right.
I'm so excited. Danielle is coming home this weekend for a few days. Haven't seen her since Christmas. She's rehabbing from her knee "boo boo" and is working her mileage back up. I truly hope she and I can run the Wine Glass Marathon together this fall. Well at least start together. She'll kick my ass, but I love it.
Thanks again to everyone who is giving me positive feedback on my blog. It kind of keeps me going. I made the mistake of sending a virtual air tour of the Wasatch 100 to Dan & Adam. Now they're saying "let's go do it." Maybe!
"Happy Trails to You..."
Roy Rogers
RIP
Last weekend was a cause to celebrate. The weather was improving, it was warmer and drier. The big whoop was I did 14 on Otter Creek & McGowan Mt. Trails with no falls. I cannot begin to tell you how happy I was about that. Actually I have somehow manged 3 successive days of running trails without a fall. Maybe I'm finally getting the hang of it (knock on wood). I actually feel like I'm getting stronger following several weekends of fairly serious frustration. I can tell you, my quads think so.
My training schedule for this weekend calls for 16 & 10. Gonna stay on the Otter Creek Trail and ford Otter Creek, following the trail until it intersects with the Green Mt. Trail which should be about 7.5 one way. I'll throw another mile on the back end to wrap up the 16. I'm pretty psyched; the weather is supposed to be in the 70's (in town) and only a 30% chance or so of rain. It will be nice not to have to layer up before heading out. The local weather has been amazing this week; in the 70's and sunny. I actually did a road run with no shirt last evening. It was great. First time since last October. I just know it's gonna be hotter than hell this summer. The winter has been so mild and with these unseasonably warm temps in mid March, it's gotta be a hot summer. Heat training makes us all tougher though, right.
I'm so excited. Danielle is coming home this weekend for a few days. Haven't seen her since Christmas. She's rehabbing from her knee "boo boo" and is working her mileage back up. I truly hope she and I can run the Wine Glass Marathon together this fall. Well at least start together. She'll kick my ass, but I love it.
Thanks again to everyone who is giving me positive feedback on my blog. It kind of keeps me going. I made the mistake of sending a virtual air tour of the Wasatch 100 to Dan & Adam. Now they're saying "let's go do it." Maybe!
"Happy Trails to You..."
Roy Rogers
RIP
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