I Swallowed A Bug

A Little Accident...Big Consequences

2008-02-09T15:59:00.000-08:00

Normally today would be a fun day...today is my birthday! But it's not a joyous occasion for me this year.

I can't move around very well - my neck, shoulder, ankle and knee really hurt - and my brain is a little shaken about. Concentration, focus, organizational ability all seem to be sputtering for me right now. I honestly don't feel like having a birthday this year even though I'm just glad to be alive. In case you haven't heard the news yet, I had myself a little auto accident last Saturday. OK, actually, it was a very serious accident. I was probably close to moving to that cozy cabin along the coastline of Heaven's ocean.

This will be a difficult post for me to write so please bear with me. Over the past week I've had some very intense 'waking' flashbacks, one of which was so intense that it actually woke me abruptly from a deep sleep and caused me to sit bolt upright in bed the other night, sweating and breathing hard. I've never experienced anything like it. Emotionally, it's a struggle to force myself to relive the experience but I feel like I need to do it to get this stuff out of my head, to document it, to purge it, to share it. Not only for my benefit later, but perhaps others' as well who can benefit from reading about it. Here's the story as a play-by-play of sorts...

At about 6:30am last Saturday morning (Feb 2nd), as I was driving from Portland to Bend on Hwy 26, I was involved in a head-on auto accident just east of Sandy, OR. Oddly, I can clearly remember all of it in exquisite detail even though I can't seem to remember much from this past week -- one of the many emergency room docs told me that I'd probably have some short-term amnesia related to a severe concussion and possible mild traumatic brain injury. Seems like that's happening to me. Hmmm, not so good. OK, so here's the story as I've written it in my notes over the past week...

I had a fun-filled weekend planned with friends, powder snow and some general merriment at McMenamins Old St Francis School. I was going to see Matt Garcia, Marc Prighozy and Krissy Moehl. Matt and I were expecting to ski Mt Bachelor at least one day. Also, I had a scheduled appointment to meet with John Snippen, the realtor in Bend who was going to be showing me homes. That was half the reason I was going to Bend.

The weather that morning wasn't too bad. It was lightly snowing and about 28F with some fresh snow on the ground. It was drivable in 4 wheel drive as long as you were going at an appropriate speed for the road conditions. I was about 3 miles East of Sandy headed east bound in the far right lane (it's a 4 lane undivided highway) when all of a sudden a large dark-colored Toyota pick-up truck came sliding across all the lanes of traffic and hit me head on. What the auto industry dryly refers to as a frontal offset crash. Almost a textbook reenactment of the IIHS crash tests (see sample video here). It all happened within a split second. Kind of like the climactic Saudi desert ambush scene in the movie The Kingdom where all hell breaks lose and time slows down amidst the chaos of the car crash.

I estimate that I took the brunt of the impact with a combined speed of 80mph. Time did seem to slow to a crawl as I helplessly watched it happen, a thousand fleeting thoughts whirring along through my mind while my eyes visually registered the impending collision. My reaction speed was fast but I had barely just enough time to shift my foot from the gas to the brake pedal to begin to slow myself a little. That's when I realized that there was just no way his trajectory intersecting mine was to be avoided. The physics of the situation were too determined. It was an explosive, thunderous meeting of metal; a foregone conclusion of energy and mass equaling force; a resounding concussive exclamation point. Cruunnchhh-BANG! And dang, it was so unbelievably loud. I mean really, really LOUD...then supremely quiet...

The remains of my 2002 Ford Escape.

Suddenly, all four airbags fired as my head whipped forward through the airbag and struck the steering wheel then rocketed back and slammed into the head rest and side window. Ouch. Wow - airbags fire really fast! My head made another pass through the same arcing motion, finally coming to rest on the head rest. Then I tentatively opened my eyes. My olfactory senses were being overwhelmed with the combined smell of pungent airbag propellant dust, leaking oil, hot engine odors, mangled metal and something very metallic that I still can't place. As my SUV filled with a hazy noxious smoke I had a strong instinct to flee, to get away. But I couldn't really move. My seatbelt tensioner had me pinned in the seat...then it let go. Not only was my door jammed shut but my head was spinning in obtuse orbits. I couldn't focus my eyes and my ears were ringing like a gun had been fired next to my head. My ears were buzzing.

I had to use my left leg to force open the door (my right leg was really hurting for some reason). Opening the door managed to help to clear the smoke and let me suck in some clean fresh air. The jolt of cold air combined with the immense power of the impact and the realization of what had just happened seemed to momentarily snap me to my senses. I realized that I had just been in a car crash and that I was still alive! But how badly was I hurt? Time for a personal systems check...shoulder, head, back, knee, ankle...all in pain. Nothing appeared to be puncturing my skin, jutting from my body at an odd angle or ripped open. No taste of blood either. Then I began to reel like I had been hit by Muhammad Ali's famous 'right hand lead'. I was starting to feel really nauseous and shakey.

I partially leaned out the door. The guy who plowed into me was already standing outside of his truck inspecting the damage to his front end. Him: "are you alright?", Me: mumbling "no, not so good", Him: "should I call anyone for you?", Me: "yes, 911 please." Then I sat back in the driver's seat feeling really tired and my connection with consciousness was severed. Everything got really quiet, like I was in the eye of a storm. It was a weird feeling. Physically I felt like I was floating in the air being buffeted by strong winds while being firmly anchored to the ground all at the same time. Like I was attached to the end of a kite flying high in a storm. An odd duality.

I could hear voices around me, sirens approaching, honking horns, someone opening the rear door to my truck, but I couldn't resolve any of those sounds into coherent thoughts. What did it all mean? Yet, I could hear them (and remember them). It was strange but seemingly normal. I could 'see' things happening around me but through an opaque lens. It was as though I was trying to look through a piece of surgical gauze with Vaseline smeared across it. Lights, shadows, general forms but nothing more. At the same time, my mind's eye was focused on something else entirely. I was sitting in a movie theater watching a series of my own experiences and memories randomly and rapidly flash across a big screen in front of me. They were moving from right to left. I could see them but I couldn't interact with them. They weren't sequential either; random. I knew they were my memories but they didn't seem to hold real meaning to me for some reason. Really odd. Is this what you experience when 'your life flashes before your eyes'? Is there some significance to the right-to-left order of the images? None of it made any sense.

Slowly, a sensation of coldness and uncontrollable shaking began to creep into my unconscious awareness (odd word pairing, I know). Then, like in one of those reawakening scenes in the movie Flatliners, all of my senses - sight, sound, smell, touch and taste - came back simultaneously in a sudden onrush not unlike what you imagine you'd experience in a sensory deprivation tank where you are feeling and experiencing nothing (or is it not feeling and not experiencing?) then you instantaneously find yourself flushed through a tight small hole into the midst of the most unbelievably noisy and smelly and potent place you can imagine; like being dropped into the middle of a busy steel factory in the midst of production. Kersnap! Wooooooosh! At first nothing, then suddenly everything all at once. I could sense myself gulping for air and catching a quick breath. And then fairly normal breathing. Teeth chattering and goosebumps. I had a deep desire to stop shaking but I couldn't; I was very cold. There was a cold hand stabilizing the back of my neck. A female voice from behind said to me "you're having convulsions, probably from a concussion, you'll be alright so stay with me...what's your name?...do you know where you are?". Whoa!

It took me a few seconds to find my voice and utter the answers. She asked me a few more questions and then explained that she and the guy taking my pulse -- huh? I didn't even notice him holding my arm -- were both ski instructors who had been in the SUV following behind me and were on their way to work when they witnessed the accident. Luckily they stopped to help. It really meant a lot to have them there. I felt comforted knowing that they had some training in dealing with injuries and the art of triage. One of them told me that the ambulance was on its way and would be there soon. As soon as that was said, I felt a sense of relief and again dropped off into unconsciousness. Everything corporeal seemed to cease existing and a light airy feeling took hold. I was floating above myself and those around me, with hazy vision I was watching my situation, all the flares strewn about in the snow burning brightly in the early morning light, the Oregon State Patroller directing traffic, the folks in their SUVs slowly driving by gawking at my predicament. No sounds this time at all. It was all so surreal. My grasp on reality seemed to be pretty tenuous.

It was time to snap back to reality again, though this time it wasn't quite as sudden. More like a gradual reentry. I felt even colder now with teeth chattering. Still shaking with convulsions. Once I became aware that I was convulsing I was able to stop doing it. I was being asked more questions and this time I sluggishly answered them, not wanting to leave the peacefulness of the place I had been occupying. But I did. It seemed like the right thing to do. The soothing female voice told me to 'remain calm' and 'don't move your head'. Believe me, moving was the last thing I wanted to do at that moment. I felt like I was encased in quicksand. It would've taken a monumental effort to move. More energy than I had.

Faintly, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the flashing lights of an ambulance were coming into view. Thank goodness. That meant I could get out of the truck into a better situation. I didn't hear the siren. Weird. The EMT who arrived was commanding in his tone, directing people to stabilize my neck while they struggled to slip the backboard between me and the seat. After a little effort I was slipped onto the backboard, head strapped down tight and then onto the gurney which obviously wasn't designed to be pushed through 4 inches of snow. It was a struggle to move all 150 lbs. of me and must've taken 4 people working in tandem to keep the darn thing moving in a straight line. I had a momentary vision of the gurney sliding out of control and me falling off onto the cold wet ground. Not a pleasant thought.

With a quick shove my gurney was thrust into the back of the ambulance. I felt like a heavy package being loaded on a UPS van. As the doors slammed shut, Jeff the EMT, locked down the gurney and told me that he was going to need to cut-off all of my clothes. Me: "Huh? What? Did I hear you right? Why? I just bought these clothes two days ago at REI! Brand new Patagonia and Mountain Hardwear ski gear. Are you sure? Really, you do?". "Sorry" was the only response he gave and then he just starting lopping it all off. I have no reason why this even mattered to me but it did.

Jeff asked if I was in any pain, but pain wasn't my priority; I didn't want to barf all over myself. I was feeling even more nauseous now. And so cold. Jeff got a pic line inserted into my right arm and began shoving an IV into me. He told me that it also contained an anti-nausea drug. Didn't really work for me though. I was strapped tight to the backboard and was facing the ceiling as the driver blasted along through the wet snow for the long drive back into Portland. I slipped in and out of things, kind of trying to relax but still feeling really cold. And I was starting to get carsick from being forced to watch the ceiling. "Can you unstrap my head so that I can move it around a little?" "Sorry", came the response, "just close your eyes and try to think of your favorite place." Easier said than done.

The ambulance took me to the OHSU Level 1 Trauma Unit in downtown Portland. There must be at least two hospitals located closer to the accident site but I guess they wanted to take me to a Level 1 Trauma unit in case I had severe internal injuries. I wasn't really paying attention at that point. I drifted off into a bad daydream and came back to reality as the ambulance pulled into the ER loading dock. It was still snowing and darker outside than I remember it. Crud, I was so cold. 'Why can't they heat me up?' I was quickly unloaded and whisked inside to a glass-doored ER unit with doctors and nurses and PAs all swirling about prodding me, asking me questions, poking me with things, palpating me in funny places (the word 'palpate' is funny for some reason), getting readings from the machines I was hooked to and generally assessing my condition. My grasp on reality was coming back now. I was starting to understand what was happening to me. There didn't appear to be any method to the madness but somehow it was all choreographed because every time someone entered the room they had a specific purpose and all their actions seemed to be coordinated in unseen some way, though I had no idea how. It was impressive to see them in action, especially since I was at the center of their attention. It was different than what you see on TV on shows like ER. It was more calm and organized. Then again, I wasn't torn open.

Two doctors performed an ultrasound of my guts to check my vital organs for damage: heart, lungs, liver, intestine, etc. The verdict: all good. You're not pregnant! Whew! They checked my bones for fractures and flexed my joints. I definitely had a problem with my left shoulder, right ankle and right knee. Then they started shoving more IVs into me to get me hydrated. The only problem was that I was still nauseous and it wasn't subsiding. I felt like I would barf at any minute. And I was hungry. And I was laying there essentially naked, freezing and covered in goose bumps. After complaining about being so cold the head nurse thankfully rounded up a bunch of warm blankets for me. Besides warming me up they also gave me back some dignity. More than anything, the blankets helped the most. The simplest of actions can have the most profound effect.

My head really hurt and so did my knee and shoulder. They weren't giving me any pain medication (thankfully) but they tried two different anti-nausea meds and then sent me off to the MRI machine for a scan of my head. They were concerned that I might have a serious closed head trauma (a 'bleeder' as they put it). After laying in that infernal, claustrophobic, deafeningly loud 'banging' machine for what seemed like over an hour I was ready to be back to the ER. Weird, I know. But if you've never had the distinct pleasure of experiencing the inside of an operating MRI machine then let me tell you that it's something best left off of your 'to do' list.

When I arrived back in the ER a nice little intern told me that she would contact my family for me. At some point my parents showed up. Having them there meant the world to me though I'm fairly certain that I took 5 years off of their lives. Knowing that my Mom would ask the tough questions (she works for the Oregon Board of Medical Examiners) was a comforting feeling. Both my Mom and Dad were obviously worried about me but hopefully my sad state of being wasn't too scary for them. As their only child it sometimes worries me how worried they can get. Someone brought me some much-needed food from the cafeteria. It wasn't good but it was edible and I inhaled it. I was eventually given an x-ray for my right knee and the result came back positive for a bone fracture and very possibly some soft tissue damage. I was prescribed Vicodin for my pain but thankfully I only needed to take one pill over the past week. I despise drugs.

All in all, I was in the hospital for about 10 hours. The lead nurse told me that I could stay overnight if I felt like I wanted to but there wasn't a medical need to do so and my immediate reaction was "no thanks, I want to leave". Feeling so tired and worn-out at that point, all I wanted was to sleep. I was discharged with a knee brace, two neck braces (which I completely needed to support my weak neck and wobbly head) and crutches because I couldn't put any pressure on my right knee. Since they had cut-off ALL of my clothes except my socks and shoes, I was basically without anything to wear outside. The super sweet (and cute) intern went to the lost-and-found and came back with a real winner of an outfit for me: size XS Oregon Duck green cotton turtleneck and size XL gray women's sweatpants. I looked like a Value Village reject. Pathetic with all the braces and crutches and whatnot. I wish someone would've taken a picture for posterity sake. I can only imagine what I looked like. These clothes are going to the Goodwill for the next unlucky person.

Saturday night my parents drove me to aunt Marilyn and uncle Bill Power's house in SE Portland to recuperate, because it just so happened that my parents were getting their hardwood floors refinished. They weren't even staying at their own house the fumes were so toxic and potent. The Power's were amazing hosts for the four days that I stayed there. Their hospitality was the stuff of legends. If you get injured, the Power's house is where you want to request your convalescence. Aunt Marilyn made me anything I wanted to eat and for those who know just how good of a cook and baker she is you know that I was in pig heaven for four days. Way better than any restaurant! If anything, I gained some weight while staying there. That's good, because I needed it. And Uncle Bill kept me in good spirits with his jokes and stories and upbeat personality. I feel so very fortunate to have such a wonderful and loving extended family. I am really lucky. They were just great.

After three days I was getting homesick for my own bed and really wanted to be back home in a familiar setting with Bark and Silli to sit on my chest and purr me back to health. Feeling depressed and not my usual cheerful self at all. Without a car I had no way (or desire) to drive home. Heck, I'm pretty sure that I won't be driving for some time with both my knee and tibia fractured. Natalie was obviously worried about me and kindly offered to drive to Portland to fetch me and take me home but I really didn't want to drive on the freeway. The speeds and road sounds would be just too overwhelming. I was afraid that I would have a panic attack in the car - I felt emotionally unstable. I elected to take the train home. It was a good choice. I was able to relax a little but I could only watch the sight pass by outside as I couldn't muster the concentration to read. My friend Christel was very kind to meet me at the train station. She took me out to lunch and then home. It felt so good to get myself situated at home. It was all so peaceful and familiar and comforting to be in my own place again. I felt like I hadn't been there in weeks though it had only been a few days.

So the verdict on my injuries:

partially torn or damaged left biceps tendon
partially torn right ankle interior tendon
partially damaged right patellar tendon
95% fracture of right patella
fractured right tibia
severe whiplash across my entire upper back and neck
severe concussion

I'll know more about the prognosis for recovery as I get test results from my doctor appointments. I was told to expect a 6 month recovery. When I heard that news I felt really disheartened. All of my Spring and Summer training plans and races are now tossed out the window. Basically, that means that my year is nearly shot with being active outdoors. That's just too long! I'm scheduled to start seeing a Naturopath, a Chiropractor and a Masseuse next week so hopefully they can help me recover and rehabilitate faster so that I can literally get back on my feet and outside as soon as possible. Despite the nasty list of injuries I am just thankful to be alive. Honestly, I probably could've been killed with just a small increase in speed or a different angle of impact. It's not easy to contemplate your own mortality. A very scary thought that depresses me.

Life seems to be dishing me a lot adversity right now. This really, really sucks. More than anything, I just want to feel like myself again and I can't. No matter what I do I need to let time and good doctors help me heal my wounds. I'm exhausted...time for bed.

Cascade Crest 100 - Pacer

2007-08-26T21:27:00.000-07:00

The last couple of days have been a whirlwind of running, a blur of activity as I get myself prepared for...

It all started earlier in the year when I was having a quarterly consult with Scott Jurek. As we were reviewing my ultra training plan and race goals for the remainder of the year, Scott suggested that I consider pacing someone at a 1o0-miler to get some experience at running longer distances. Unlike many sports where you have to actually race to get the experience of racing, with ultras you can get race experience without the race pressure just by helping someone else race. Neat idea. In Scott's words 'it's a great way to test the distance, strengthen the mind and develop endurance while helping someone achieve their goal of finishing a race without having the pressure of racing'. The keys would be to select a 100-miler that I could travel to fairly easily, then find someone racing it who needed a pacer at my speed, then set their expectations appropriately that I had never done this before and finally believe in my own ability to help them do it. No problem.

Scott sent me on my way with some good advice and also suggested that I give Krissy Moehl a call to ask about her experiences as a pacer and uber race RD/volunteer (and of course ultra running goddess). Krissy told me that she was planning to volunteer and pace Jenny Uehisa at Cascade Crest 100, so I contacted Charlie Crissman, the RD. Charlie (and his wife Audrey) are great people and were welcoming when I offered to volunteer. Long story short, I got some great advice and decided to volunteer AND pace someone too. I was set.

The first challenge was to find a racer needing a pacer. After some posts on the CCC100 forum I eventually found my racer - Scotty Pope, a firefighter in his mid-30s from the small town of Dallas, GA (northeastern portion of state). It turns out that Scotty's run a few 100-milers before but this one was going to be very special for him in two ways: 1) this race had more vertical (20,470 feet of gain) than probably all of his other completed ultra races combined and, more significantly, 2) Scotty and his fiancee Cathy were getting married the week before the race. Cool huh? The CCC100 was intended to be part of their honeymoon experience! What a great idea. Actually, Cathy must have the patience of Job because training, racing and recovering from a 100-miler is a series of major tasks in themselves, let alone only a week after a wedding! Yowza!

The race HQ was located at the Easton Fire Station. With a full compliment of volunteer firefighters, radio operators and others on hand it felt like a well-oiled machine ready for the 32 hr challenge that lied ahead. After the national anthem was played, the racers lined up ready for the starting gun. Seattle-area ultra notables included Phil Shaw, Sam Thompson, Bill Huggins, and Van Phan. Despite the challenge which lay in front of them, the enthusiasm was palatable. It made me really want to join them on that starting line. Luckily, my logical rational brain took over and convinced my passionate emotional brain to take it down a notch and remember why I was there.

First though I needed to volunteer. Charlie assigned me to work the Cole Butte AS (mile 10.8) and Tacoma Pass AS (mile 23.3). I barely had enough time to help the Lofton's at Cole Butte AS before I was needed at Tacoma Pass. Tacoma Pass is at an early critical juncture in the race. At about a quarter of the way through the race it's a place where the leaders are still jockeying for position and spreading out. It's also the first AS where crew members can assist their racer. The AS was being staffed by Eric and Iliana Sach of The Balanced Athlete in Kent, Don Mukai (well known locally for spreading the Japanese Proverb - “Stumble seven times, get up eight times”) and of course myself. A fun group! As you can imagine, it was super busy. Cars, crew, families, racers and dogs everywhere all jostling for a little space on the narrow and dusty FS road. Not to mention that James Varner was there crewing and pacing for Allison. James decided to spice up the proceedings by dressing as a hula 'girl'. Typical ultra.

The only scare for us came after about half the racers had made their way through the AS. As Eric and I were nonchalantly chatting, one of the racers and then very quickly a few more, came in telling us of someone lying unconscious in the trail and obviously in distress. Apparently, the front runners had stirred up a nest of ground hornets and all those runners who came along afterwards had to dodge the pesky little devils. Some of the runners, like this poor fellow, didn't fair so well and many folks were stung multiple times. Soon enough someone identified the stricken runner's brother amongst the support crews. He joined some able bodied volunteers and they all trundled up the trail to see what could be done for this poor guy. After a quick assessment, Eric wisely made the decision to call Charlie over the radio who in turn summoned an ambulance from Easton. Eric took my jacket and a blanket as he ventured up the trail to assist the others in stabilizing the victim. As they carried him back down to the AS nearly everyone else left out of necessity to help support their particular racer further along the course. It was pretty much just me, Eric, Iliana and a few other stragglers trying to stabilize him as he lay on the ground pale, uncontrollably shaking and basically out of it. Word arrived that the ambulance was lost and couldn't find us in the maze of FS roads so the decision was immediately made to ferry him down to the I-90 interchange where the ambulance would wait. By the time I made it down to I-90, the poor guy was being rehydrated via intravenous drip and feed some anti-histamines. Later I heard that he was doing fine. Perhaps it was dehydration combined with anaphylactic shock? Regardless, it was scary. I thought that the group handled the situation very well. It could've been much worse.

Since my AS duties were finished I took a quick jaunt into Cle Elum to visit the cabin. After dinner I headed over to the Hyak / Gold Creek AS (mile 52.7) to await Scotty and begin pacing him through the night. As Cathy, Tara and I waited for Scotty she told me that she was proud of his achievement of even making it that far. It was obvious to me that these two were in love. By the time Scotty arrived it was very dark, lightly raining and in the low 50s. Scotty was feeling some of the effects of the altitude but, more importantly, the vertical gain/loss of the first 50 miles which was taking it's toll on his tired legs. After some hot soup, salted boiled potatoes and a handful of oreos, Scotty and I flipped on our headlamps and took off (ok, more like rapidly ambled) down the FS road towards Keechelus Ridge AS at mile 60.5. We passed through Keechelus Ridge just as a stiff breeze began blowing. The rain was pelting us and making the journey a little depressing, but we chatted and I spent the better part of a few hours trying my best to understand his crazy thick Georgia drawl. What the heck was he saying? I wish someone had been with us to record the hilarity of two Americans from opposite sides of the country trying (without much luck) to communicate in a common language. Too funny!

At the Kachess Lake AS at mile 67.9 we refueled. This is where the infamous 'Trail From Hell' that borders Little Kachess Lake begins. Oh boy, oh joy, what fun that was. It was very slow going as we attempted to stay upright in the darkness and not unwittingly drop off of cliff a hundred feet down into the cold lake. Scotty had never seen trail like it before and I could only imagine what he was thinking. After a few miles of a slow jog we basically power walked the rest of the way to the Mineral Creek AS at mile 73.9. We did run some but it was neither consistent nor easy. All the roots and rocks cast huge shadows disproportionate to the size of the object. Very disorienting and mentally fatiguing. We were so glad to be finished with that portion of the course.

As we arrived at Mineral Creek AS, Scotty was at his lowest point so far, having completed about 75% of the race. It wasn't yet dawn so the old Circadian rhythm was stuck in neutral trying to tell our brains and bodies that we should actually be asleep, not plodding along on a cold and misty trail in the Cascades. We were only a few miles out of the AS just as we found ourselves reverting to silence and then magically out of the light mist Cathy and Tara appeared on the trail in the middle of nowhere. It was a great surprise to see them in the dark without any light to guide them. They told us that they had parked their SUV further up on the FS road near Cooper Pass and the Ridge Road AS at mile 78.5. When we hadn't arrived they decided to stay warm (and awake) by walking until they found us staggering along. Despite feeling physically fine and mentally alert I found that the mental energy I needed to expend to help Scotty along was really draining me. But, that's the job of the pacer. No matter what, be there for your racer. It was much tougher than I had expected.

At the Ridge Road AS we got Scotty refueled and pointed him in the right direction. This was going to be my stop. I was feeling very conflicted at this point, leaving Scotty in the dark to climb up the ridge just when he was seemingly at his lowest energy level. But frankly, without having enough base miles under my feet I probably would've become a bigger burden on him for the remaining 21.5 miles as I would've invariably hit my limit in some remote area. This was his race to run. As Scotty disappeared - a lonely figure in the darkness - we drove back to the Fire Station in Easton (Race Central) for some quick shut eye while we anxiously awaited Scotty's arrival.

I slept only a few hours and very fitfully, eventually waking stressed out. We all decided to go to the Silver Creek AS at mile 95.2 to greet him and encourage him along. When he didn't show up my energy level peaked and I decided to head back up the trail towards the French Cabin AS to see if I could find him. Sure enough, at about mile 92 or so there he was shuffling along and mumbling to himself. I forced some energy gels into his weary body and coaxed him down the trail. As his energy improved so did his mood and motivation. Unfortunately, the vertical was taking a heavy toll on his legs. He kept repeating "My legs, they be blow'd up!". It took me a while to understand him and then I started laughing every time he said it. It was like his mantra.

As we came into Silver Creek AS, Cathy gave him a big hug and plied him with all manner of food. This perked him up mentally but physically he was hurting. I didn't allow him to linger long. I'd been told by Krissy that AS "bonks" are common later in 100-milers and to watch for that. As we pulled him away down the trail I told him that I would get him to the finish line as long as he wanted me to. My goal was to actively encourage him along, taking his mind off of the final 5 miles while making sure that we traveled at a reasonable pace so that he could and would finish. It was working.

Despite having to dodge groups of kids on motorbikes and ATVs, who were sharing the last bit of trail with us (and stirring up the dust), we made it across I-90 and into Easton without complication. The fire station was within sight, except we had to take this odd detour around some businesses to get ourselves up and on railroad grade for the final push into the finish along the tracks. Scotty began pushing and as he approached the finish line his super supportive wife planted a big kiss of congratulations on him. It was very satisfying to see him step across that line. In a way, it was for both us even though it was his race and I was merely a supportive passenger. Yet, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment through his achievement. Very neat feeling. Now I understand why pacing can be so enjoyable.

Scotty finished the race in 27:07, which is a great time given the immensity of the challenge and the fact that this was his first 100-miler under such strenuous conditions ('welcome to NW ultrarunning!'). Kudos to Scotty and his wife! Of the 93 starters, there were 67 finishers, a respectable 72% finish rate. Jamie Gifford of Seattle, running his 7th CCC100, won the race outright and took 1st place for Men with a time of 20:52. D'arcy Africa from Boulder, CO took 2nd place overall and 1st place for Women with a time of 21:15.

Haulin' Aspen Trail Marathon - Bend, OR

2007-08-13T17:37:00.000-07:00

I decided to head to Bend this weekend to run the Haulin' Aspen Trail Marathon. This is the first in a series of consecutive weekends running a marathon distance on trail in preparation for the The North Face Endurance Challenge 50K in Bellevue in October. What a better way to start then to drive down to lovely Bend, OR and run with 130 other folks, two of which I'm training with for the 50K race: Sean Wetterberg and Kathleen Egan. This was my first time running this race (only it's third year in existence), but it felt like a well-oiled machine. That's how good the organization was.

Plain and simple, Bend rocks! I love it down there but I don't particularly enjoy the long drive. Sean told me that it took him 10 hrs to drive from Lynnwood! Yikes! I suppose I shouldn't complain about my measly 7.5 hr drive then. As soon as I got to Sisters though the drudgery of the drive melted away. I am always awed by the beauty and majesty of the landscape and by the wonderful feeling I get from being in the High Desert country (read my early post from the Peterson Ridge Rumble). The area is just so familiar and inviting to me, I absolutely love it. OK, back to my long drive...as usual, I was able to break that into two pieces by staying with my folks in Milwaukie on Friday night. That also gave me the opportunity to see my friends Vawn and Lou and help them celebrate their tenth anniversary with some martinis at our favorite place, Bartini, which is located in the NW district of Portland. It was fun seeing them.

After a nice Saturday morning brunch with my folks, I headed down to Bend. I had to go to the Footzone in downtown Bend to pick-up my race packet and buy a few things. With the race entry I received a 20% coupon for REI (bonus!) but it had to be used by Sunday (huh?) so I picked-up a new pair of much-needed TNF running shorts. My friend Matt Garcia and his wife Debbie were gracious enough to let me stay with them in their new house. Saturday night was spent making/eating burritos, drinking beer and telling stories around a little portable fire pit in their new backyard. It was a nice mellow night with some good laughter, conducive to getting in bed early and being ready to run the next morning. Alas, the dreaded "I can't sleep so I'll toss and turn all night" hit me. I kept waking up thinking that I had overslept my alarm and that the race had started. Crud. It was a long night.

When my alarm went off at 4:30 am I awoke from a fog, looked out the window into the darkness at the clear skies and thought to myself, "this is going to be a beautiful day of running and I am glad to be here". I was feeling re-energized and after a light breakfast of yogurt and a bagel I drove to the Middle School to catch the 6:00 am shuttle bus to the race start in Shevlin Park. For those who've been to Bend you know that it is usually fairly chilly in the morning, even in the middle of summer. Today was no different. I think it was just 50F and as we all hopped around trying to stay warm for another hour (race start was 7:00 am) I found Sean and Kathleen. Sean and I had agreed to run the race together since we run at a similar pace and neither of us wanted to go out too fast and then blow-up. Also, we've both been battling some niggling ankle injuries and didn't want to make those worse. As we chatted with some nice gals from Boulder, CO this lanky guy came wandering by wearing an outfit that wouldn't have been out of place in a bad 70's disco lounge. It was hideous. He was basically flammable, wearing polyester pants, an enormous belt buckle and some goofy Willy Nelson t-shirt along with a scrappy leather jacket and some brown platform shoes. And, to top it all off, he was jamming to Elvis on his iPod while dancing all around. What a sight. I'll come back to him a little later...

Sean with his girlfriend after the race.

Finally the starting gun went off and we trundled down a 1/2 mile pavement to the start of the trail. As our legs loosened up we started to warm-up. We soon realized that it was going to be another dry and warm day after all. Also, the first 12 miles of the race is a slow gradual climb along forest service roads to the radio tower so you warm-up quickly as soon as the sun peeks out. What a great way to thin-out the herd, er, I mean pack. Somehow, we ended up basically dead in the middle of everyone...for pretty much the entire race.

The run starts off with a nice smooth and twisty single-track trail (after the pavement) and then after two bridge crossings emerges on a wider trail that eventually turns into a forest service road that just climbs up into the hills. After a few miles of running on the lower trail one of the gals from Boulder, Marcy Servita, caught up with us and asked if she could run with us since our pace was good for her. Even though it's a 12 mile climb, there is only 2,500 ft of total elevation gain on the course which is so gradual that there is only two points where I can remember having a significant climb (and even those weren't tough). On the second climb at about mile 11 - the much longer and steeper of the two - Sean, Marcy and I decided to run it eventually passing a bunch of people on our way up. It was a good call. As we passed one gal who was walking up the hill we got into a conversation with her and learned that her name was Linda Barton and that she was from Everett and that her and her friend had just come from running the Crater Lake Marathon the day before. Yowza! She decided that she'd rather talk and run with us then not talk and walk up that hill alone. Our party of three became four.

At the top of the course, around mile 12 or so, there is a well-placed aid station at the point where you begin the 12 mile descent on one leg of the Mrazek Trail which is a twisty and dusty single-track trail that's used by trail runners, hikers and Mt. bikers. For so much use it was in fairly good shape. Very few rocks or roots to contend with. We all agreed that this was the best part of the race. It felt almost effortless running through the first part of this section as we let gravity pull us along. The RD had done a good job marking the course so we weren't worried at all about taking a wrong turn and getting lost. In fact, the RD was smart about it and had located the aid stations at the intersection points where you could easily take a wrong turn. Smart!

Linda started to push the pace a little and after a few miles left us in her wake. We were back down to three. Also, Marcy was experiencing some stomach cramping and other GI issues so we slowed the pace down and stopped a few times for potty breaks. After some more stops at aid stations, Marcy seemed to get her hydration issues in order and was able to pick the pace back up. I think that we lost about 25 minutes or so in total with all the various stops that we made along the way. Regardless, Sean and I were happy to do it for her. To me, trail running is all about the experience and not necessarily always about your finishing time. By helping Marcy achieve her goal, we felt closer to achieving ours.

As we came down the trail near mile 21 or so, we began encountering a lot of day hikers and some Mt. bikers making their way back up the trail. Sean, Marcy and I got spread out a little due to the groups we had to pass. Thankfully it didn't get too clogged, just a little annoying more than anything. The further we ran, the more non-runners began appearing on the trail. There was only one point where I got frustrated. There's a longish section of large boulders on some short descending switchbacks that need to be carefully navigated as they're covered in a sandy soil and have some drop-offs. I generally have good foot work and body placement and my 30 years of playing soccer help me move through sections like this fairly easily, but when you have groups of overweight, slow-moving retirees blocking your way as they inch down in awkward positions, well, things can almost get dangerous. I literally had to stop a few times to wait for them to move to the side of the trail (which thankfully they did - slowly - without me even asking) so that I could pass safely without causing them any concern. I looked at it like a challenge and considered them trail obstacles, just like the other features of the trail that needed to be passed and overcome.

Near mile 23 or so things began to level out, things widened a bit and there was more than enough room for everyone to share the trail. We quickly came back onto the twisty single-track that we had run at the beginning of the race, leading us back across the covered bridge, through groves of Ponderosa Pine trees, and eventually to the finish line where we were greeted by a bunch of cheering folks. As in any long-distance race, that finish line seemed like it was taking forever to appear until we actually reached it. I swear that this race was longer than 26.2 miles (my Suunto T6 watch displayed it as a little over 27 miles).

As soon as I crossed the finish line I grabbed my drop-bag and headed to the fast-moving stream which was adjacent to the finish area. Sitting in the frigidly cold water wasn't easy to but it felt so good on my sore muscles. After a 10 minute soak I walked over to the staging area and started to eat some of the food that was provided. I was bummed though. They had two kegs of beer from Cascade Lakes Brewing Company and it was already gone! What gives? Apparently the 360 folks who ran the half-marathon distance (and their friends and family) had descended on the beer like vultures. The poor marathoners were left bereft of beer! I was fairly bummed out about this and decided to go back into the water and soak my troubles away. Another 15 minutes in the cold water (this time with Sean keeping me company) was all I could handle. I had lost most of the feeling in my feet and even though it was 80F and sunny, I was getting really cold!

Me soaking in the cold stream next to the finish line.

Back to the guy I mentioned at the beginning of this post who looked like a disco reject working in a scuzzy Chinese lounge. It turns out that his name is Paul Saladino and I'll tell you what, looks can be deceiving! I ran into him while I was waiting to catch the shuttle bus back to my car. He was wearing that same outfit but he looked like he had just run a marathon. We started talking and I eventually learned that this was Paul's first marathon and that he'd actually won it in a blistering time of 3:05:11. Man, he was fast! Paul and I decided to go get lunch together and share our race experiences. We went to Longboard Louies to get their monster honkin' burritos. It turns out that Paul is a 30-year old Virginian who just moved to Bend in July to be a P.A. in the Cardio Lab at St Charles Medical Center. While he's waiting to pass his Oregon Medical Boards, he's been working some odd jobs here and there and running a lot. He told me that this was his first attempt at a marathon. Wow! I'd say that he's off to a good start.

I asked him about his experience and here's what he had to say:

The race itself went just about as well as it could have. I was definitely nervous about all of the logistics; what to eat, when to eat it, how much to drink before and during the race but I guess it all worked out. There were plenty of aid stations, well spaced and most of them had people at them too! So I can't blame my nearly destroyed legs on not refueling properly. I had done a few runs up to 20 miles but I don't think I had run down hill that aggressively ever before. That must have been what did me in because by the time I got to mile 22 or so my legs felt like bombs had gone off within them. The last two miles, its all really just a blur of emotion, pain, and exhaustion. I had no idea where the guys behind me were so I was just trying to run as fast as possible which for the last two miles felt like 15 min pace. I do remember starting to talk to a reporter from the Bend Bulletin after I finished and swerving a little as I tried to find some water. When I went to the river to sit and cool off I fell in because my legs were too weak to lower me slowly into the water. For me the coolest part of the course was the steepish, long hill leading up to the radio towers. That's were I felt my race come alive and first started to think I might have a chance of winning. I had figured that if I got to the turn around with a good lead it would difficult to make up big time on the down hill. Until my legs blew up that it is. After that all bets were off.

What would a trail race in Bend be without a couple of locals running. Sean Meissner (RD for Peterson Ridge Rumble) placed second overall with a time of 3:11:54 and Kami Semick placed third overall and was the first woman across the finish line with a time of 3:13:58. They both ran a good race. I also saw some other Seattle-area runners like Van "Pigtails" Phan who ran a 3:55:06, Kathleen Egan who ran a 4:21:35 and Jessica Mullen who ran a 4:33:55. While neither Sean nor I ran particularly fast (4:52:45 and 4:54:32 respectively), we finished middle of the pack and felt good about our performances given the circumstances. Neither of us got reinjured and we were able to use the race as a long training run under race conditions. Our goals of going slow, building our base endurance and avoiding injury seem to have paid-off.

Overall, this was a great race experience. I plan to run this race again run next year.

Seaside, OR - Fun Beach Run

2007-07-01T14:44:00.000-07:00

The Oregon Coast holds a very special place in my heart. My Uncle has a really cool house in Cannon Beach so my parents used to take me down there when I just a baby swaddled in diapers. Some of my favorite childhood pictures were snapped down there with the famous Haystack rocks towering above the ocean in the background. The salty smell of the ocean, the crisp wind, the drift wood haphazardly strewn about the beach, the endless sandy beaches, the myriad wildlife being nourished by the bounty of the ocean, there are some of my favorite memories and experiences to this day. There is no place on the planet I would rather be on a warm sunny day or a windy stormy day then at the Oregon Coast.

This past weekend my friends Vawn and Lou McCollum invited me to join them at their beach house off of 12th Ave in Seaside, OR. With a week of summer vacation available they had decided to take their kids down to the beach and enjoy the good weather. The weather forecast was predicting sun and light clouds so when the invitation came along I decided to make the trip down and join them. Outside of the many fun planned activities like BBQ'ing and some excellent drinks with dessert down on the beach, we basically hung-out and talked, did some beach combing and generally enjoyed ourselves.

On Sunday morning Vawn, Lou and the kids had a preplanned activity, leaving me with time on my hands. I laced up my road shoes and headed down to the beach. Fortunately, the tide was ebbing at it's lowest point so I was able to run on some hard-packed sand. I first headed South down the beach all the way to the end of town at the rocks, turned around at Ocean Vista Dr and then headed North along the beach as far as possible before the inland waterway outlet cut me off with some heavy outflow. I found it very peaceful running by the early morning surfers, happy beachcombers, parents with kids and cavorting dogs. As I headed inland on the beach and ran around the "back side" of the neighborhoods I took one of the small trails heading south onto N Franklin St and into that neighborhood. I just aimlessly ran for a while, making my way to downtown via whatever streets seemed to be calling my name. The intermingled smells of the restaurants was making me really hungry as my stomach started rumbling (I had forgotten to eat - doh!). It was time to head back to the house at a quick pace and join the McCollums for a tasty breakfast of veggies and scrambled eggs. Yum!

On my way out of town on Sunday afternoon, I was bitten by the bug of wanderlust. The road less traveled seemed to be calling me. I decided to take a route I had never driven myself. I went North on Hwy 101-N to the quaint town of Astoria. I hadn't been to Astoria in years and was really surprised to see just how well preserved it is. A very pastoral scene with lots of old brick buildings and neat little shops. I had heard that there was a cool little health food store (one of my measures of a cool town is by the funkiness of the health food store) so I went there first. Astoria Co-op is located on Duane St. It's a well stocked little co-op serving the local community with organics and natural items. I was already getting hungry for lunch so I was directed to a small Peruvian restaurant on Commercial St. called Andes Cuisine. I don't even remember what I ate there but I can tell that it was really good. Finding Peruvian food in little Astoria, OR is honestly the last thing I was expecting but I was pleasantly surprised as I sat outside on the street under the hot sun. I could almost imagine myself sitting in Cusco at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Pretty neat.

My drive home to Seattle was taken via another new route. Might as well keep going, right? I took Hwy 101-N over the famous 4-mile long Astoria-Megler Bridge which crosses the mouth of the Columbia River and is the longest continuous truss bridge in North America. What a view. From 101-N I took Hwy 401-E through the little community of Naselle and then to Hwy 4-E, also known as the Ocean Beach Hwy. After an exhilarating winding drive in the mountains through the little burgs of Gray's River, Sleepy Hollow, and Cathlamet, all nestled deep in serious logging country, I drove East along the Columbia River passing Puget Island, Wallace Island, and Crims Island before eventually dropping into Longview, WA. Longview is the larger Western counterpart to Kelso, the two towns being bifurcated by I-5. I don't remember ever having been to Longview before, and frankly I would never had a reason to go there in the past, but for a 'pulp and paper' town in ain't too bad. I quickly found I-5 and motored home. It was a good weekend.

Rattlesnake Mountain Trail (RMT)

2007-06-26T21:42:00.000-07:00

This past week I was looking for a new 15-20 miler to do since I've been getting a little bored running the same trails week-in and week-out. I know, what a complainer right? Anyway, I decided that I needed a new place in my bag of training locales so when I heard that the Mountains to Sound Greenway Trust, the non-profit steward of the I-90 greenscape, was going to be doing a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a new western trailhead at Snoqualmie Point (I-90 exit 27) -- for the significantly improved Rattlesnake Mountain Trail (RMT) -- I elected to try running the RMT again. I had run portions of the old RMT in the past (when map, compass and bushwhacking were practically a necessity), but I'd heard that the new RMT was a real improvement. And let me tell you, yes it is!

I skipped the ceremony and opted to get there way early for a long solo run. I'm glad that I did, because I was able to find parking (there are 50 parking spots) in an empty lot. I had the place to myself, which was good for me because I wasn't interested in battling a bunch of gawking hikers with kids and dogs while I climbed up to the ridge line. [Note: there is nothing wrong with hikers at all - I like to hike myself - but with a ribbon cutting ceremony I was expecting hordes of people wandering a few miles up the trail and then turning around and basically clogging the whole thing.] Thankfully, the trail has been dramatically improved. The first few miles are wider and there is clearly marked signage along the entire length, so the days of guessing 'which way do I go here?' are long gone. I love orienteering, but frankly, when you're going for a trail run, that's what you want to do - run.

If you're unfamiliar with the RMT, the new (and old) 10.5-mile point-to-point route follows the ridgeline of Rattlesnake Mountain, which rises above North Bend along the south side of I-90. The trail is soft and thickly forested, but does offer some very scenic views in several places toward Seattle, Mount Si, North Bend and the Snoqualmie River Valley. From Snoqualmie Point to the high point of 3,460 feet there is an elevation gain of approximately 2,480 feet. One of the highlights of the trail is the 2 mile descent (or ascent depending upon your direction) from Rattlesnake Ledge to Rattlesnake Lake with 1,100 feet of elevation gain. To start at Rattlesnake Lake, take I-90 exit 32 and drive south on Cedar Falls Road 3.5 miles to the trailhead. This is also the western terminus of the John Wayne Pioneer Trail and a connection to the Snoqualmie Valley Trail (SVT).

Back to the training run. As I climbed out of the trailhead and up to the ridge I passed through an interesting variety of flora. Parts of the trail made me think of the Oregon Coast, especially the thick salal and elderberry bushes which closely lined the path. After a climb of about 700 feetof elevation gain you cross the first of three old logging roads (leads to the radio tower). All the crossings are well-marked with turnstiles that prevent bikers and equestrians from using the trail. Soon you cross under the buzzing high-voltage power distribution lines. Just after the Stan's Overlook turnoff you encounter a soft single-track trail (well maintained) and enter an area that appears to have been hit hard with blown down in a big storm. Snags everywhere. A little beyond that you abruptly enter what I am now calling "the Dark Forest". I was immediately struck by how eerily quiet and dark it was. It was like someone had flipped off the light switch, forcing me to remove my sunglasses while trying to get my pupils to adjust to the very low light levels. I kind of stumbled along for a while until I could resolve some detail of my surroundings. I started talking to the trees, because for some reason it felt like a very ancient place. In my mind, I imagined that perhaps the trees were 'Ents' like in LOTR...but alas, no response came my way. Or maybe 'Elves' were watching me from unseen places. My oh my, what an active imagination I have!

After another 2 miles of climbing I came to an area where I had a hazy view of the Eastside and Seattle. As I stopped, I was immediately swarmed by handful of aggressive mosquitoes which must've been drafting along behind me from the quick-paced Dark Forest episode. No time to stand around so I snapped a couple of quick pics and moved on. After 4.2 miles and about 2,100 feet of elevation gain I came to the Grand Prospect, a nice mid-point with a vista of Mt Si and North Bend below. From this vantage point, I could faintly hear I-90 traffic far below but mostly it was birds happily chirping and wind rustling through the tree branches. Mt Si and Little Si and Mailbox Peak all looked magnificent. As I continued along the trail I ran through more of the Dark Forest along a rolling single-track trail seemingly carved into the side of the ridge. The forest is so thick that I wasn't able to see either below me or above me. Eventually, I came across a short spur of trail which leads to the operational microwave radio tower. It's kind of strange to see this big tower in the middle of the forest but, as is the case with modern technology, you just can't escape it no matter where you go. Thankfully, it is setback from the trail so unless you happened to look almost directly up at a very specific point you wouldn't see it at all.

The new trail takes some interesting detours here and there, crisscrossing some portions of the old RMT trail and logging roads and then reconnecting. Eventually, I came to the old radio tower site with the equipment hut and the decommissioned tower itself. Obviously some kids had been climbing it and playing around on it, leaving graffiti but thankfully no beer cans or trash. I stopped briefly to admire the view and then passed through on my way over to Rattlesnake Ledge. This stretch has some wonderful undulating terrain with flora that you usually see in bogs and swampy areas. As I approached Rattlesnake Ledge I began to encounter pairs of hikers with walking sticks and funny looks on their faces. The first two groups were older folks and were somewhat amazed that I had run from the Western end of the trail. They too remembered the twisted maze of trails that was the old RMT. One older gentleman had a map and compass while the others followed his lead. I told them how easy it was to route-find now and they all breathed a sigh of relief. I bet they had visions of an early-season bushwhack across the ridge with lots of challenges. While still a very challenging trail to hike or run, it's immeasurably easier now that the trail is completed and well maintained.

I soon arrived at Rattlesnake Ledge where a large number of people were sitting around on the rocky outcroppings admiring the easterly view of Rattlesnake Lake and the Cedar River Watershed. They had all hiked up the 2 miles from Rattlesnake Lake. I didn't stay long. After quickly soaking in the sights, eating a ProBar and taking a well deserved break I turned around and began my journey back to the car. The reverse route provided me with some amazing views and an opportunity to reflect on some of the tough things which have happened to me over the past year. It's a very good trail for contemplation, though you need to be mindful and tuned-in to the trail conditions otherwise you might find yourself tumbling down a steep ravine or gully. The footing can be treacherous in places with an abundance of roots seeming to be the main culprit. After a long and fast 4 mile descent I was approaching the Snoqualmie Point trailhead and began hearing voices and dogs barking. Soon I was sharing the last mile or so with a lot of people who had turned-up to experience the joys of the RMT firsthand. I'll definitely be back!

California Coastal Trail (CCT) - Presidio, SFO, CA

2007-06-03T14:07:00.000-07:00

Ah, San Francisco. The land of sourdough bread, pea soup fog, alternative lifestyles, Rice-A-Roni and those famous cable cars. This past Friday I headed to SFO on business and decided to stay the weekend and run a section of trail I had heard exists in the Presidio. You're probably asking yourself "where in the heck is he talking about?", given that SFO seems to be primarily made of concrete. I'll get to that in a second. On Friday morning - really early - I flew down from SEA to SFO for business meetings with Salesforce.com and Oracle. Of course I wasn't going to waste a golden opportunity to spend the weekend hanging-out in SFO, so after my business meetings I rented a car and drove over to Presidio Heights which is in the northwest section of the city and is where my friend Maria lives. She graciously allowed me to stay on her couch for the weekend.

Maria is a funny character and always has interesting things lined-up for us to do. This time was no exception. She only moved to San Francisco last Fall but that hasn't stopped her from being active and learning the city like a native. On Friday night we went to a tasty little Tapas restaurant in the Mission district and then afterward we hung-out with her boyfriend John and some of his friends. We also hit a few local bars to close out the evening. On Saturday though, Maria had something special planned. After a late brunch and some long walks through China Town, the Western Addition and Embarcadero Plaza we made our way into the Theatre district. She had somehow scored last-minute tickets to the final showing of the Un-Scripted Theatre Company's Great Puppet Musical, which was like an adult version of an impromptu Muppet movie only a heck of lot funnier. The best way to describe it is as improv theater. Basically, the audience "seeds" the actors with story ideas and then the actors develop a storyline right on the spot that is then improvised over the course of the evening. It was wacky and super funny! I think it was something about a gay play writer who divorces his wife (!) then hikes up Mt Everest with his ex-wife and Tom Cruise in order to find his muse so that he can write a Broadway play about overcoming adversity. Kind of like "Who's Line Is It Anyway?" but with profane hand puppets. Can you imagine that? It's not easy to describe. Check their Web site for more details. Suffice it to say that if you ever get the chance, head over to the SF Playhouse and catch a show. You won't be disappointed.

Back to the Presidio and a quick history lesson: In 1776, Spain established the Presidio as the northernmost outpost of Spain in the New World to block expansion by Russia and Britain. Since that time, the Presidio has been an army outpost for 3 different nations (Spain, Mexico and the US). It has survived a lot of changes over the years and was at one time the center of relief efforts during the famous 1906 San Francisco earthquake and subsequent great fire that leveled entire swaths of the city. During that time the Army General in charge of the Presidio decided to send troops into the city to rescue citizens and restore order. He actually ordered his troops to blow-up entire city blocks with dynamite in an unsuccessful attempt to create fire breaks and prevent the spread of fire. It didn't work and just caused further destruction. Dumb move.

Back to running. On Sunday morning I felt like I needed some exercise and decided to try a section of the famous California Coastal Trail or CCT. Here's a good map of the northern section of the run [link] - look on the left side of the page. The section I wanted to run starts underneath the Golden Gate bridge in the Presidio, which is part of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area. I parked at West Crissy Field and walked/jogged over to Fort Point for a little warm-up. This is close to the starting point for a 10.5 mile long section of CCT that runs south along the Western edge of the Presidio, past Lincoln Park, along the Great Hwy, past Golden Gate Park and down to Fort Funston. As usual, there were a lot of tourists (like me) walking, biking or running along the many paved trails and roads. I realized that it was the annual Escape from Alcatraz Triathlon which explains the masses. The CCT isn't well marked so I struggled to find it but after about 20 minutes of running around I eventually found a poorly signed and dusty sand track that runs along the edge of a cliff that drops down into San Francisco Bay. Bingo. Thankfully, bikes aren't allowed, so I ran away from the masses and found myself alone. Not easy to do in SFO, believe me.

The weather was partially cloudy, dry and a cool 57F when I kicked off at 11:00 am. Nice weather. Before I had even started I was taken aback by the magnificent views of the Bay that stretched out in front of me with undulating whitecaps on the waves and with very large container ships playing a game of chicken with small but nimble fishing boats. Everything seemed to be a on a grand scale. The wind was starting to whip up and the sky was starting to get a little more cloudy as I progressed along a winding path. It felt like the weather might make one of those dramatic shifts that the area is so well known for, but thankfully it didn't change. I'm glad because I didn't want to get lost in that thick fog that often rolls in. Stumbling over the cliff wasn't sounding too appealing to me.

I soon passed what appeared to be some old gun battery's long since out of commission and boarded up. In fact, all along the upper section of the trail I encountered old remnants of a bygone era like abandoned pill boxes, gun batteries, casemates, and other decommissioned military structures. Some were open to the public for viewing, while others weren't. Regardless, all were interesting to look at as I zipped along. The local wildlife was enjoying the freedom to roost and nest in these buildings too. At least they're getting some use.

As I neared Baker Beach, the trail dropped steeply down the hillside into a grove of trees. Only minutes from downtown SFO, and this being SFO, Baker Beach is a nude beach. Go figure. Occasionally I would encounter a homeless person wandering off into the woods for a nap or an itinerant musician practicing their instrument where few would hear them, but then I almost ran into a family of Eastern Europeans who had parked themselves on the side of the trail for a picnic. Odd place for that. I guess they didn't want to try and eat their lunches while having to look at some guy's shrunken wobbly bits (it was brisk). I don't blame them one bit. Yuck!

Right after Baker Beach, comes China Beach and then Phelan Beach. Tucked away behind the million-dollar homes of the Seacliff district, China Beach is one of San Francisco's few beaches safe for swimming. Getting down to China Beach you have to traverse the famous sand ladder, which is a like a steep flat stairway that is anchored into the sandy hillside wall. It's not like stairs that are constructed into the ground but rather, you walk down a wide wooden ladder built on a steel lattice that moves around as you walk on each rung. It can be a little unnerving given the length of it, and especially as others are coming up and making it move with each step. It reminded me of a combination of climbing a ship's ladder and walking along a suspension bridge, with a declination somewhere in between.

Needless to say, you can't really run along this section so I fast hiked it. After hitting the beach I plowed through the soft deep sand for about 500 yards. While I often enjoy running along the beach, the soft sand was toasting my calves and ramping up my heart rate well into Zone 5. Not good. Thankfully, I reached the hard pack trail again and headed back up into the woods. A little further along I encountered Phelan Beach, which is when I lost the trail again. All along the trail you encounter a real diversity of trail conditions, types of flora and a wide variety of people. Right at this point though, the trail just disappears. I was carrying a Google Map I had printed so after some trial-and-error I realized that the trail actually runs along a concrete sidewalk through the Seacliff neighborhood, which is a fairly ritzy area.

After I reacquired the trail, I ran into Lincoln Park and past Lands End. Here's a webcam of the area. I could see the remnants of the Mile Rocks Lighthouse on my right. I soon came upon the ruins of the famous Sutro Baths, which at the time of their completion in 1896 must have been a magnificent sight to behold given the $1 million price tag. The Sutro Baths was, at the time, the world's largest indoor swimming pool complex and was comprised of 7 salt water swimming pools ranging in temperature and enclosed under a giant glass canopy. Apparently they could accommodate 25,000 people at one time. They even had an ice rink and concert hall. Check out the pictures on Wikipedia. It all burned down in 1966. The Sutro Baths are located adjacent to the Cliff House and that is the point at which I decided to turn around for my return journey.

As far as trail runs go, this one had something for everyone. And, it's not easy to find trail runs in a city environment unless you're in Portland, OR (see Forest Park post). I'd recommend running this section of the CCT if you find yourself in SFO. This Web site has a bunch of good pictures from the section of trail that I ran (the pictures are shown in reverse order of how I ran them - last was first).

Forest Park 50K - Portland, OR

2007-05-28T17:09:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the best laid plans just don't happen. Yesterday I was planning to run the 50K Forest Park Trail Run in lovely Forest Park in Portland, OR. It was a nice idea. I suppose that "was" is the operative word here. You see, my Saturday night got away from me for a good reason. I had planned to register on race day but never even made it to the starting line. Instead, I ended-up closing the bars in the wee hours of Sunday morning with my child-hood friend Vawn McCollum. We drank an untold number of martinis at Bartini followed by a bunch of beers at the old McMenamin's standby, The Blue Moon Tavern in NW Portland. We had a great time. Vawn's husband Lou was kind enough to volunteer to watch their two little ones while we reminisced until 3 am. Needless to say, my body and brain weren't ready for an 8:30 am Sunday morning race. Heck, none of me was up for getting up. I guess that no commitment + lots of alcohol = no motivation to run, or something like that.

If you've never been to Forest Park then you really need to experience it the next time you're in Portland. It's a densely forested park comprised of 5,000 acres with 70 miles of mixed-use trails and all of it located in the northwest corner of the city. As a comparison, Central Park in New York City is only 843 acres and has a measly 7-mile loop trail that runs along the perimeter. That's wimpy! Being a native Oregonian and growing up in Portland I have fond memories of Mt. Biking and cross-country running in the park in the late 80's and early 90's before Nike sponsored a bunch of permanent trail signs under their "Just Do It" campaign. Back then, it was a crap shoot where you were going to end-up given all the twisty single-track trails that criss-cross the park. It was like being in a large living maze with no map. Pretty cool place for a teenager to spend some time wandering about!

So, back to my trail running plight. I had missed the race and I hadn't run at all on Saturday or Sunday. As my pentinence (and to clear my foggy noggin) I decided to do a little run by myself on Monday evening before driving back home to the Seattle area. The weather was a balmy 68F with low humidity and a light wind. No rain had fallen for a while so the trail was perfect. I tossed on my running gear and took off from the Thurman St gate. I ran up the Wildwood trail and then back down Leif Erikson for a total distance of about 10.5 miles. I wanted to go for at least 2 hours but about an hour into the run it was starting to get dark so I decided to turn back. It was as I had remembered it though - lush, quiet, fun, and ultimately majestic. A complete oasis within the confines of the city. Basically, a trail runner's delight. Give it shot next time you're in Portland. You won't be disappointed.

The McDonald Forest 50K - Corvallis, OR

2007-05-19T22:40:00.000-07:00

So today was the day. I ran the wonderful McDonald Forest 50K in Corvallis this morning. This will be burned in the old memory banks, like the first time I walked upright or received a Christmas present or graduated from HS (yes, I actually graduated twice, but alas that's another story). It was my first 50K trail race and I had no idea what to expect. I am finally no longer an ultramarathon virgin though. I've thrown off the shackles of long-distance trail running celibacy. I've been asking myself, "Why did it take me so long to experience this?" In the words of the immortal Jim Carrey, "I like it, I like it a laht"

Scott Dunlap told me a few weeks ago that this was a tough race and I have to say that for a first-time 50Ker like myself, yeah, it was tough. Yowza! I suppose I have Scott Jurek to thank/blame for encouraging me to try it. He knows about my training, my desire to run a 50K and my lust for the muddy trails. So when he told me that he and Leah were going to run it I decided to take the plunge and do it too. I'm very glad that I did. The drive down from Seattle sucked but the race more than made up for it.

It was as tough as it was rewarding. Perhaps it didn't help that the furthest distance I had ever run before was 35K and that was only 2 weeks ago out in Mazama/Twisp (see the Sunflower Iron post). Seriously, I've never run further than 22 miles in either training or racing. D'oh! I know someone will tell me that was an ignorant move or just plain dumb, but please hold your tongue. I really enjoyed it and seem to have suffered no ill effects (yet). In fact, 2 months ago I ran my first 25K trail race which was my longest run up to that point. So, my Mac 50K race strategy was actually not to race per se, but to just run, enjoy and finish. I've never run a trail marathon before so I didn't have that benchmark in my mind either, which in hindsight might actually have been a good thing.

I ran slowly not knowing what to expect around each turn, or from my poor body for that matter. I didn't want to experience the dreaded bonk and then DNF. I started the run on my own, not really knowing anyone in the crowd. I soon hooked-up with Julie Sandoz and we ran about 8 miles together talking about engineering and other nerdly pursuits. She soon pulled ahead as we approached the bottom of Extendo and then stupidly, as I was admiring some Iris flowers (which were in awe-inspiring abundance) at around mile 9 or 10, I rolled my right ankle pretty severely. I've never done that before so I just kept running through the pain and it eventually went away after about another 15 miles. Hmm...probably not the best race strategy, but it worked. I told myself that I would finish this thing no matter what happened, regardless of my overall time, even if I lost an earlobe in an encounter with a rabid hummingbird, or a drop bear ripped-out my hair or something as equally traumatic happened to me.

The middle of the race was fun, especially the Hippies servicing the aid station on Dimple Hill. I soon caught up with Jamshid Khajavi at Chip Ross Park and we ran together for about the next 4 miles or so. What an interesting character. He's a 54 year old ultra fanatic from Kirkland, WA who was coming off a 100-miler last weekend in Moab and then planning to race back-to-back 100-milers the following two weekends. That's 331.5 miles of tough running in 4 weeks, not including his training miles. Whoa. And, he's an endurance swimmer to boot! He gave me some much-needed perspective on what's possible if you put your mind to it. Thanks Jamshid! As the Aussies say, "Good on ya!"

In fact, I think that was the slowest pace I have ever run over a set distance; I averaged about 12 min/miles which isn't too bad for a first timer. I felt like I was wearing Granny panties or concrete shoes or something. And, to make this race even better, there was a heckuva lot of climbing, like 6,600 feet of cumulative elevation gain. Fortunately, I like climbing. The only downside was the lack of the infamous "Mac Mud", for which the race is so well known. That kind of bummed me out, given that I live for thick gloopy mud caked around my ankles. Shouldn't complain though, the trail conditions were superb.

I spent about 20 minutes in total at aid stations working on my ankle. When Jamshid and I exited the trails and hit the fire road at about mile 24.5 I felt really good and decided to push my pace a little. I ran that last 7 miles at a faster pace (even including that loooong hill right after the Lewisburg Saddle aid station), so obviously I had something extra left in the tank. I was quite spent at the end though. The run ends with a curvy 1+ mile rooty single-track descent that toasts your quads and I burned down that at like a 7:00 min/mi pace. Gravity was my friend. It sure was a great feeling to finally cross that finish line with everyone whooping and hollering for every finisher. I wasn't certain if they were laughing at my completely decimated state of being or just cheering for everyone, regardless of goofiness factor. I'll have to assume the latter for the sake of my self-dignity.

The end is so sweet. I just stumbled half delirious into the Forestry Cabin needing to consume large numbers of calories, which were replenished with some tasty organic soup and bread served by two lovely volunteers. I sat down to ice my ankle and had a chance to talk a little with the grandfather of Oregon trail running, Clem LaCava (founder and past RD of the Mac 50K as well as all-around nice guy). Then I had a fun rambling conversation with Melissa Heggen, a super smart H.S. math teacher from Denver, who was in town to visit her Dad. She got my vote for the most individually stylistic runner with a super cool pink Adidas headband matched to short pink shorts and a pink top. Check out her hilarious blog. Not to mention that she came all the way from Denver for the race!

Amazingly, I'm not really sore today after icing my ankle and muscles and I'm feeling really good about the entire experience. I learned a lot. I learned to eat while running, that HEED is one nasty drink, that bugs on the Mac 50K trails don't taste half bad, and that running a 50K can be a blissful experience. It was a beautiful course, with a crazily twisting trail that was very well marked and staffed by magnificient volunteers who made the run a real treat. To top it all off, all finishers were handed a well-earned 22 oz. bottle of the Mac Mud Porter from the Oregon Trails Brewery. Now that's the way to end a trail race (RDs take notice)!

So, the question is this: Would I consider running another 50K this year. Hell yeah! I'll definitely do another 50K this year, maybe even a few if my schedule will permit it. I have the ultra trail running bug now. Happy trails!

Sunflower Iron 35K - Twisp, WA

2007-05-05T21:55:00.000-07:00

Ah, an early Spring trail run in the gorgeous Methow Valley. Getting to visit the delightful little Western towns of Mazama, Winthrop, and Twisp, and, the Okanogan in general, which is an outdoorsmen's paradise. Just as I was getting mildly stir-crazy from the endless days of monochrome gray skies and perpetual drippy rain of Seattle I had the opportunity to head over the North Cascades Highway the weekend after it's annual Spring opening. I had 4.5 hours of solid window time to think about my weekend, the origin of navel lint, and why we can send a man to the moon but can't seem to explore the deepest reaches of the oceans on our own planet. I was stumped and it kept me going.

All along the upper reaches of the cascade loop there were huge 4-6 foot high piles of densely packed snow. As I crossed Rainy Pass at 4,855' and descended into the Methow Valley I was struck by the shift in climate and ecosystem from the Western side of the Cascades. The air was drier, crisper and the skies sunnier. The trees were not covered in coats of bright green moss anymore. The deer weren't wearing raincoats. The birds weren't dodging rain drops. I had just come from drizzly rain and blank grayness and was heading into a dry, sunny play land populated by healthy, over-achieving, super athletes, small herds of cattle and Ponderosa Pine trees. My mood improved immeasurably and so did my motivation to run the 27th Annual Sunflower Iron Event. Not to mention that I was going to be staying in Mazama with Chris and Nellie Casey, friends whom I hadn't seen in nearly 5 years...I know, I'm bad! It was going to be a good weekend running and seeing old friends. Game on.

I arrived on the Casey's doorstep around 9pm Friday night, a little bedraggled from the long drive. Chris was at work pulling a 24-hour shift managing the E.R. at Brewster hospital while Nellie was managing the home front with the kids. It was nice to catch-up with Nellie while she fed me some tasty home-made chili. We talked late into the night. At 5:30 am, I awoke from a deep sleep trying to figure out what the bright orange orb was and then realized that it was the sun poking over the horizon! I felt like was coming out of hibernation. This was already shaping up to be a nice day. After some last minute early morning prep, I drove 30 minutes to the Twisp River Pub for race check-in and to take a shuttle bus to the starting line in Mazama along with the other folks. The skies were clear, the sun was shining, there wasn't a stitch of wind about and the temperature was a cool 45F. Perfect trail running conditions.

This is a 22.1 mile point-to-point trail run that begins at 1900 feet of elevation in Mazama and finishes at 1600 feet in Twisp, with a total elevation gain of about 1900 feet. The course includes narrow deer trails, rocky cow paths, undulating Mt. bike routes and a few short paved road sections that criss-cross some of the most scenic public and private lands that I've seen outside of Austria (picture 'The Sound of Music' in your mind). In some sections you run through mountain meadows filled with sunflowers and along small lakes. I started humming "...my heart wants to beat like the wings of the birds, that rise from the lake to the trees..." I know, it sounds corny but it really felt like that. No kidding.

A quick point of fact: the Sunflower Iron Event's namesake flower isn't actually a sunflower but instead a look-a-like more accurately referred to as the Balsam Root. I guess the Balsam Root Iron Event and Relay didn't sound too appealing so they went with Sunflower. Probably a smart move. At this time of year, the Balsam Root is popping-up everywhere in the Methow Valley. The hillsides are practically carpeted with them. Thankfully they weren't pollinating yet or they would've had to serve Claritin and Kleenex at the aid stations along with the Gu. That'd be a gross combo.

The race started at 8:30am at Brown's Farm in Mazama. As we all jumped around trying to stay warm and looking like fleshy pogo sticks I started talking with a nice gal from Renton who was running two legs as part of a relay team. She was training for a triathlon this summer. We chatted and ran together to the first aid station. After that, I was running pretty much by myself for the remainder of the race as I passed folks or was occasionally passed by a number of well-conditioned 50 and 60 year olds. It was humbling. Fortunately, my race strategy is fairly simple: I like to run negative splits so I tend to start races at the back of the pack, running slowly as my body warms up and gets into gear. I find that passing people, especially in latter stages of a long run, is a very rewarding experience and gives me momentum along the way. Those little milestones keep me focused on the task of just crossing the finishing line.

The section between aid station #1 and #2 has the paved country road. Very boring section. I was glad to be done with it. Once I left aid station #2, the herd began to thin out and I saw our first and longest climb of the race. But first we had to navigate/cross some bog-like spring-fed sections which were very muddy with standing water. I don't think anyone was able to avoid the glop. One woman in front of me stumbled through it until her feet were covered in muck. It was funny. I wasn't even trying to avoid it because I love mud. Right after the muck came a nice long climb, the first real climb of the race. It was fairly steep for about 1/4 mile but eventually leveled-out into a nice gradient. It was followed by some pleasant rolling sections and a few more short grunt sections that I just power hiked. This course has so many different types of terrain I could write about it for hours. Suffice it to say that there is something for everyone (except sand thankfully).

I don't even remember Aid Station #3 so it must not have been too memorable. Aid station #4 is located just after one of the small lakes you pass. It's at the base of a steep but short climb that takes you into more mountain meadows via single-track. It's just so darn beautiful that you almost forget that you're running through it. As we approached aid station #5, I was not happy to see a longish steady climb up a switch-back but then I remembered the profile map - this was the last real climb! Thankfully, as we crested the top of that pitch, we were rewarded with a nice view of the valley. As you leave this section you immediately encounter a narrow single-track trail just wide enough for your feet but covered in sharp rocks of all sizes and with plants that overhang the trail. Basically, you can't see directly in front of your feet or where your feet will land. I was running on a fairly empty tank at this point and was just putting myself into the hands of the trail running gods hoping that they would ensure that I didn't twist an ankle or blow-out a knee. It was nuts. At about this point the trail descends sharply and steeply into a quad-burning controlled free-fall that only ends when you reach the bottom. I thought for sure that I was going to fall on my face, and that just doesn't happen to me. Or, at least it hasn't yet.

At the bottom, I was thinking that I had conquered the run. Dumb. I was looking for the finish line but then realized that not only could I not see it I couldn't even hear cheering. I thought "Could I really be that far away?" The short answer was "yep". I had to run another 2 miles on flat horse tracks. Why didn't the course map show this part? Talk about a tough section. It was as difficult mentally as it was physically. Only when I was within about 250 feet of the finish line did I actually realize that I had made it. Whew, I was done!!!

But that's not really the end. I still had a half-mile walk back to the Twisp River Pub for beer, the free potato bar and some fun conversation in the sun with fellow runners while they held an hour long drawing for a ridiculous number of random prizes (I think everyone got something - shoes, socks, hydration pack, etc). The MVSTA organized an awesome event and deserve big kudos! I met Chris, Nellie and their two daughters at the pub after thumbing a ride from a very nice local (everyone's super friendly in the Methow and I wasn't about to make the walk). We scarfed down a big order of nachos like there was no more food left in the town. And Chris got me to try a strange British concoction where you mix two-thirds of a glass of IPA with one-third Seven-Up. Those wacky Brits. It was actually quite refreshing, but I'm not sure that I can actually order it by myself given that I don't have a British accent. There's probably a bartending rule for this.

What did I learn? I obviously didn't hydrate properly, especially in a fairly dry climate. And, I didn't fuel properly either. I burned way more calories than I ingested. And, I had no idea how tough running 22 miles could be physically or mentally. Finally, I was pissed that I had forgotten to bring my small digital camera to take pictures of the awesome scenery and vistas. Who knew? It was a great learning experience though. This is one of those memorable trail runs that will probably become an annual event for me. I'll just have to go back next year. Oh well, poor me.

Spokane River Run 25K - Spokane, WA

2007-04-22T22:17:00.000-07:00

I'm beat. Today was a very long day. It was a tough work week for me with lots of late nights and then yesterday afternoon I finally decided to drive over to Spokane for the Spokane River Run. For those that have driven it, the section of I-90 from Seattle to Cle Elum is a really pleasant drive with lots of nice scenery but once you hit Ellensburg the drive to Spokane has to be one of the most mind-numbing and forgettable drives possible in the Pacific Northwest. My brain hurts just thinking about it. Driving to Spokane and returning the next day is double the fun-pain quotient. Well, that's basically what I ended-up doing. Late last night I drove to Spokane, arriving at the Apple Tree Inn around 11:30pm. This morning I heaved my lazy body out of bed around 6:00 am to prep for the race. After a pretty lame excuse for a breakfast I drove over to the park, ran the race, then drove the 275 miles home to Bellevue. What was I thinking? OK, enough of the whining. While the drive obviously sucked, the run was worth it.

This is one of those runs that was recommended to me by a few different people, though for the life of me I can't remember those who told me about it. Huh. Senility seems to be setting in already. Anyway, I only heard about it last week so I hadn't really planned it out. "A little of everything"..."nice course"..."great early season race", those were all used to describe it to me. I didn't know anyone planning to run it though. Actually, I didn't have time to ask anyone. That was a bummer. Maybe I wasn't totally motivated to do it, I don't know. But, I told myself that I would treat it as a training run and as my first 25K race, meaning that I would run the entire thing but I wouldn't push the pace. No pressure to hit a time target, just a chance to run and enjoy and learn from the folks around me. Of course I can't just run a race. It's not in my personality really. Once I was in the middle of it I needed to try to push it, even if only a little. Let me explain.

The race takes place in the beautiful Riverside State Park just to the west of Spokane. There are 5K, 10K, 25K and 50K race options, with the 5K and 10K being the most popular and drawing the bulk of the runners. The trail description from the Web site: "100% dirt trail, some rocks, roots and possibly mud, but no asphalt. The course winds through thick pine forests set against basalt cliffs and ends with a tight twisty single-track next to the roaring Spokane River." I can attest to that description. It was a nice meandering course with some short, very steep climbs that quickly thinned-out the pack but overall there isn't too much elevation gain. It's more of a rolling course through thick patches of forest and basalt rock outcroppings, before you descend down to and run along the rushing Spokane River for about 4-5 miles. Despite the awesome terrain, there was a cold breeze and enough occasional rain drops to qualify as drizzle. Crud, the weather was in that no-man's land where you need to wear a long-sleeve shirt but then you might overheat as the humidity sets in. If you wear a short sleeve shirt you worry about feeling hypothermic and shivering. So, what to wear? Long sleeve or short sleeve? Shorts or tights? Gloves or no? Hat or no hat? Why not just layer with all of it? I was having a tough time making decisions, much in the same way that Mother Nature seemed to be mixing-up a potpourri of weather for us. Eventually I ended-up wearing my favorite Salomon shorts, wool socks and a microfine Merino wool long-sleeve shirt that I picked-up in New Zealand last year. [Check out my other post touting the benefits wool as the ultimate trail running gear.] The many folks from Spokane were all in good spirits and didn't let Mother Nature dampen their obvious enthusiasm to be rid of the snow and back on the trails. Back to the race...

The start of the race for me was humorous. After a check-in snafu where I was handed-off a few times, the RD eventually got my race packet but just minutes before the start of the 25K. I jogged back to my truck to leave it and my layers of clothes behind when I heard the RD scream, "Go!". Either he was a few minutes early or my watch was slow! Crap, it didn't matter. I sprinted for the starting line about 250 yards away. I was the VERY last person to start the race, even after the designated walkers. As I crossed onto the trail, I thought to myself that this better not be indicative of my race performance. I didn't want to finish in last place. Now that my HR was racing from the sprint I had to bring it back under control and slow down which isn't an easy thing to do. My pace was all over the map for the first 4-5 miles, running slow and fast and everything in between. This wasn't the start I had envisioned. Thankfully, it was a chatty group and I talked to all sorts of folks as I began to pass people as we climbed the first few hilly sections. Around mile 6 I found my rhythm and finally settled down.

I was about 10 miles into the run talking with a military guy who was really pumped-up by the race (or maybe it was that he wasn't stationed in Iraq right now) when all of sudden we heard some very loud "pop - thud, pop - thud, pop - thud" noises. After a few moments I finally put it into context but not before my new running friend identified the sound as gunfire. Was it the local church hunting club? Nope. The local militia practicing? Wrong again. I was hearing a gun (or guns) being fired close by though. It turns out that down and across the river a little ways is a shooting range. That had me questioning the sanity of conducting a well-attended race within proximity of a live firing range but hey, the RD must've known something I didn't. Of course all the "what ifs" ran through my head, like what if a stray bullet hit me while I was running and I tumbled unconscious into the River. Would anyone ever find my body floating downstream? Kind of a morbid thought, I know, but in Spokane I'm prone to those types of thoughts.

Thankfully, the trail took a turn and I pulled away from the noise without finding myself face down in the ditch. After the race, I came to the conclusion that we weren't in any real danger but that trail runners and bullets don't mix too well. Nevertheless, at that particular point I increased my pace (probably went from a Zone 4a to Zone 5 HR in like less than 5 seconds). We continued to run along the river and then down a twisting single-track littered with rocks and scree that would be a good Mt. Bike trail. It reminded me of a scene from LOTR. The loose rocks were slippery from the drizzle, making the footing treacherous. If you tumbled here, you might end-up bobbing in the cold river. I had forgotten how far into the race I was at that point. I was just so focused on getting away from the sound of the gunfire that when I came back to reality we were less than a mile from the finish line. Oddly enough, during and after the run I didn't hear anyone else talk about it all. Hearing gunfire is a great motivator though!

As I came across the finish line I was greeted with cheers and the sounds of The Fixx's "One Thing Leads To Another" blaring from the RD's boom box. That was a nice way to end. The post-race area was alright, with water and Gatorade and, most importantly, the $5 large pizzas that were offered to all runners and being snarfed-up like nobody's business. What a great idea! All they needed was some beer and I would've spent my afternoon "recovering" with two of my favorite food groups. Thanks to the folks in Spokane for making this a memorable race.

Peterson Ridge Rumble 30K - Sisters, OR

2007-04-16T14:53:00.000-07:00

My first official trail race...

Have you ever gotten so excited about something that you actually jumped up and down, licked your lips and flapped your hands while saying "ohhh, ohhh", much like a little kid might do on Christmas morning? Can you picture yourself doing that as an adult? I couldn't believe it, but I actually did that yesterday. Not very manly, is it? It's never happened to me before. I know, I know, how embarrassing, right? I felt like I was watching someone else but then I realized that it was me doing it! I started laughing even harder. Too funny.

Why was I so darned excited? Well, it's pretty simple. I had entered to run my very first trail race, the Peterson Ridge Rumble in lovely Sisters, OR (pop. 1,450), and here I was, having just gotten out of my car to walk over to the starting line at the back of the Sisters Middle School. The weather was trail running perfect: a balmy 55F with a light breeze and sunny skies. Then the realization hit me that I was going to start my trail running odyssey, right here and right now. I think that my reaction was a combination of pent-up excitement and nervous energy looking for an outlet. Hand flapping is a good way to look like a dork, cool-off oneself and generally express giddy excitement..all at the same time. It's a pretty handy maneuver but I don't recommend doing it often. You'll get some odd looks, especially when you're a guy.

Here's the deal: I've never run a trail race even though I pretty much run exclusively on the trails at Cougar, Squak, Tiger, Rattlesnake, and Taylor Mountains in the Issaquah Alps. For the Peterson Ridge Rumble, I had decided to run the 30K option. So this was my first trail race and my first time ever running 18.5 miles (even in training)! It was going to be a big day for me.

But first things first. Just to get there I had to make that oh so looong 350-mile drive from Bellevue down to Bend. Fortunately, I was able to break it up into two parts and drive down to my parent's house in Milwaukie and stay Friday night. I had a pleasant time, as usual, and awoke on Saturday eager to get down to central Oregon. I drove down I-5 to Salem and then cut east on the N. Santiam Highway (Hwy 22) past Detroit Lake, past Suttle Lake, through Sisters and then on into lovely Bend (pop. 85,000)...which has grown like crazy since I was last there. I was amazed how much growth has occurred. Heck, I remember going skiing in Bend when there was a population of only 19,000. Talk about growth! Anyway, I was planning to stay with my childhood friend Matt Garcia, his wife Debbie, their young daughter Zoe and their energetic lab Roxy. What I didn't know was that they were in the process of packing-up their belongings for a move the following weekend just across town to their new house. Talk about bad timing for a visit - sorry guys! Thankfully, they were very gracious hosts and we had a great time catching-up. It was really good to see them after so much time. I think I last saw them at their wedding nearly a decade ago!

[On to the locale.] Sisters - located just to the northwest of Bend - sits at an elevation of 3,100 feet. It is situated in western Deschutes County, just east of the Cascade Mountains in central Oregon and is perched on the edge of the 1.6 million acre Deschutes National Forest. Once a lumber town, it still has an 1880's Old West vibe with lots of working cattle ranches, rivers for fly fishing and white water rafting, the Three Sisters Wilderness Area for nordic skiing and snowshoeing and hiking, and high-end vacation homes spread amongst the planned golf resorts of Black Butte Ranch to the west and Eagle Crest to the east. Basically is a sportsman's paradise and it's a down to earth town with friendly locals and absolutely stunning natural scenery in the high desert country. The Sisters-Redmond-Bend area is one of my top favorite places on the planet. I can easily see myself living there someday.

[Fast forward back to the start of the race.] The race is an out-and-back run that starts/finishes at the Sisters Middle School. The starting area was filled with nearly 100 people intending to run the 60K and another 135 people intending to run the 30K. That's 240 eager trail runners clamoring to get going. Despite the numbers, it didn't feel crowded and the low-key vibe made it seem more like a big gathering getting together for a long training run. There were some notable Northwest ultramarathoners in the race, like Kami Semick, Andy Jones-Wilkins, Bev Anderson-Abbs, Jeff Riley and Rod Bien, among others. Heck, the RD is Sean Meissner so you know that this is going to be a tough trail race. Some folks had dogs and one guy even had two dogs (Huskies perhaps?) which he had tied to his waist so that they would pull him along. Smart!

After the starting gun went off, we all trundled down a dirt trail (looked like a wash-out) that quickly narrowed forcing us to run no more than two abreast until it widened again about 1/2 mile later where we encountered a long, straight dirt and gravel road (NF-4606). After another mile or so we crossed a small bridge and then bisected 3 Creeks Lake Rd where we continued to run straight on NF-4606 for another mile until we came to a turn-off into the forest onto a smooth, flat trail that meandered through Ponderosa Pine and Manzanita. After about another mile or so the trail met up and paralleled a stream (really cold water) that helped to cool the air and keep the dust under control. After moving through Aid Station #1/#5 we ran across Peterson Ridge Rd and finally up into the hills, where we started to gain some elevation. The terrain was getting more interesting and, by this point, the field had really spread out and I was able to run at a good clip without having to dodge slow pokes.

Aid Station #2/#4 is at the base of a long hill that leads up to the turnaround points for both the 30K and 60K (which are different). After making the turnaround and plowing back down the hill I did a little liquid refueling and was off. For some reason, at about mile 14, I had an instant and serious GI issue crop up. Let's just say that I lost about 15 minutes of time hunched over in the thorny bushes behind a large rock outcropping of volcanic lava rock (very sharp stuff!). After, er, dealing with my distress and rehydrating myself, I took off down the trail with a renewed sense of energy and excitement. As I headed down the trail I noticed the complete lack of flying bugs so I was able to run with my mouth hanging open, looking kind of slack jawed. It helped me suck in the copious quantities of much-needed air at the elevated altitude.

When I reached NF-4606 again I met up with Meredith Sorensen who lives in Portland. Meredith is a New Jersey transplant who has a freakish passion for waste management (go figure). As we motored along she explained that she works for CES and is helping to coordinate composting, recycling, and overall waste reduction efforts at the Portland Airport while she gets her masters in public administration from PSU. Her two buddies were also running in the race but were somewhere behind her. As we struggled down the long straight road I worked hard to keep her mind focused on just reaching the finish line by blathering about whatever subjects came to mind: furry dogs, ultimate frisbee, traveling in SE Asia, the nuances of batch beer, solar powered lighting systems. By helping to keep her mind off the last portion of the run I was able to do the same for myself. It worked.

As we came back across the starting line we crossed Edgington Rd. and then into the Sisters Middle School parking lot. The finish line happens to be on the stadium track...on the opposite side from where you enter. Yikes, that's about 325 yards of further running and just when you thought it was over! To get there, you have to run past the BBQs and food tables spread with delectable nourishment, the other runners who've already finished and are relaxing on the field and the the kids playing energetically with dogs. It's a real test of mental toughness, I tell ya. Thankfully, once I entered the chute and crossed the finish line I was able to start walking and cooling down. I was rewarded with a nice pair of free D-feet socks and then a tasty hamburger (or was it three?). There was a masseuse providing free services too. While I was taking a cold shower apparently Sean conducted a random prize drawing that well received. At that point, it was time for me to get back on the road for the long drive home.

Big kudos go to Sean for putting on a wonderful race with such a great atmosphere. I had heard that his race was a real winner and wasn't disappointed. Everyone was super friendly, from the runners to the race coordinators to the helpful volunteers at the aid stations. Having the option of using the showers at the Middle School after a long run proved to be a stroke of genius. Most importantly the course is a nice early season tune-up (not too steep or flat or dusty, you get the picture). I'll definitely be adding this one to my annual race list. It was totally memorable and really fun. Woohoo!

The Bend Bulletin wrote a nice article about this year's race. Check it out.

Bridle Trails Winter Trail Running Festival 10 Miler - Bellevue, WA

2007-01-13T19:43:00.000-08:00

Dang, it's a cold day to run. I just checked my handy dandy weather station and it says that it's 29F with 80% humidity (that would explain the snow falling) and a light 8 mph wind. Now, don't get me wrong, while I enjoy running in all weather conditions, especially rain and mud, I'm just a little perplexed by the need to run on ground that is frozen solid and slick from ice mist. The roots will be like giant hard and slippery sausages embedded in the ground. Toe breakers is what I call them. There is a rapidly darkening sky considering that it's about 2:00 pm now and the race starts at 3:00 pm. Ah, I suppose I should just suck it up, lace up my shoes and get my arse in gear, right? I'll write about it when I get home later today. Bundling up now...

Whew! I just got back to the house. That was a fun little run. Two counter-clockwise loops of the outer trail at Bridle Trails and I was finished with 10.4 miles. It's a relatively fast course and is thankfully well marked with ribbon. I only slipped about umpteen times, my drool froze to my chin and my breathing caused a layer of ice to form on the inside of my running shades, but other than that I did alright. OK, the after-effects of New Years is still coursing through my veins but that will soon dissipate too. Now, if only I could figure out how not to produce saliva and how to run without breathing then I'd be doing really well! On the positive side, those Ibex wool running tights and my merino wool skullcap both worked like champs. And, the cold weather virtually eliminated all flying insects. No swallowing of bugs this time. Bonus!

The official name of the race is The Bridle Trails Winter Running Festival and it's managed by the Seattle Running Co. A few different events are offered: 5.2 Miles, 10.4 Miles, 50K Pairs, 50K Team Relay and 50K Solo. About 330 hearty souls lined up on the starting line this afternoon to tackle the course, which is fairly level and just kind of rolls up and down through the pine trees around the outer edges of the Park. There are a few 250 foot long hill climbs but otherwise you're running on a fairly flat course. It also helps that the density of the trees prevents snow from piling up on the trail too deeply. Instead, 330 pairs of feet pounding over the snow have scrunched it down into a compact layer of snow-ice that is akin to something you'd find in your local ice rink. Nice.

For those interested (or just unfamiliar) Bridle Trails Park is located in Bellevue, WA and encompasses 500 acres of natural woodland that is designated for equestrian use. It's a really cute little park with a few different little ecosystems happening along the way. To top it off, there are about 28 miles of trail. When you run in the Park it's up to you to watch out for horses. I like that. No bikers, no hikers, no hunters, nothing but people and horses. Being so cold and late in the day, I didn't see a single horse out there. I don't blame them at all. It's pretty darned cold for a horse even with wool blankets.

I just heard that Greg Crowther set a new course record for the 50K Solo by running it in a blazing fast 3:19:40. Holy smokes! Apparently, he was 51 minutes ahead of the second place finisher. I'm surprised that he didn't melt some of the snow as he motored along. What do you suppose would cause someone to want to run the 50K option in weather like this? Especially when the last 21.5 miles is run in the darkness typically with a head lamp and under very difficult conditions (frozen icy mud anyone)? By the time most of the 50K'ers reached the half way point I was here at home eating some pizza, drinking a beer and sitting in front of the fire place while typing this blog entry. Maybe next year I'll be crazy enough to contemplate the 50K, but for now I like to think of the 10 miler as a nice mid-winter training run. Not too much and not too little effort. Just about right for this time of year. To be honest, I would have preferred snowshoeing.

From Road to Trail...My New Year's Resolution

2007-01-01T19:32:00.000-08:00

In the middle of 2005, I decided to get back into running in a more planned way. Rather than randomly entering races and running when it felt right, real training plans and goals and commitments to races became the norm. With that in mind, in 2006 I ran six half-marathons and four 10K runs (see the 2006 posts). It wasn't easy getting motivated to run on flat pavement often with very long straight-shot views of my next destination along the race course. I really dislike straight sections! And, all were all on road. At the conclusion of 2006, as I was making my 2007 resolutions, I was reading a running magazine which reminded of Scott Jurek's trail running camp that I attended in 2004 as part of the Breckenridge Crest Trail Marathon. That was such a wonderful treat of a long weekend. I sat there asking myself 'why haven't you run more on trails?' and 'when are you going to really test yourself and run an ultra?'. Hmmm, both good questions.

It didn't take me long to decide that 2007 was to be a transition from running on hard man-made surface to soft natural surfaces (at least most of the time), from fairly flat terrain to always-changing terrain usually with lots of vertical, from concrete to plenty of rocks and roots and mud, from cars and people dominating my view to trees, bugs, birds and animals inhabiting my vision, from the white noise of the city to natural forest sounds, and from general city business to tranquility and solitude (except for the presence of said forest creatures). I was really looking forward to experiencing these differences on a daily basis. Even though I've never had any issues with the physical impact of road running, I agree with others who believe that running on concrete and asphalt is just inherently hard on your joints, tendons and connective tissues. Hence, my decision to drop road running for a year and focus on trail running instead. I think I'm really going to enjoy spending more time on trails given that I live on Cougar Mt practically within spitting distance of two trailheads of the Cougar Mt Regional wildland Park, a 3,096 acre playground with 48 miles of trails. Heck, it is the largest urban wildland in the United States!

So, without further ado, time to get out on the trails and build up that base mileage...