In Search of Badass

Xero Shoes Umara Z-Trail Sandal

2016-11-20T19:58:00.000-08:00

FINALLY! A quality minimalist sandal that doesn't have the toe-post straps! I've been waiting a long time for a company to make a zero-drop, minimalist sandal with modern sandal straps that can still hold up to adventures on the trail.

Introducing the Xero Shoes Umara Z-Trail sandal, sibling (or cousin?) to the Amuri Z-Trek sandal, both sporting a modern Z-strap system as opposed to the huarache style straps that come up between the first and second toes. The Z-Trail, as the name implies, is a slightly beefier trail version of the lighter, more minimal Z-Trek.

In early September I was lucky enough to be the winner of the Barefoot Runners Society contest for a pair of these, and I couldn't be more excited. I had been eyeing these since they came out, and had planned to buy a pair at the start of the summer for a trip to Germany, but I lost track of time in my planning and preparation. Now that I have them, I regret not having had them for that trip. They would have been unstoppable and I could have brought two pair fewer shoes.

As a disclaimer, I will say two things. First, I have never been able to wear sandals with the toe-post. It's incredibly painful and I just can't do it. Otherwise, I would have bought a pair of the original Xero Shoes a long time ago. Secondly, I'll admit that I've always been skeptical about how a minimalist sandal with a highly flexible sole could work with a modern strap design. Keeping the foot from sliding forward off of the footbed or preventing the front of the sole from getting scrunched up or folding downward during the normal flexion of the foot seemed to be a big challenge, but the folks at Xero shoes have pulled it off beautifully.

The sandal bed is altogether 10mm thick with a BareFoam comfort layer footbed, TrailFoam force protection, and FeelTrue rubber grip pods. What does that mean? It means that the sandal is just thick enough to give excellent protection for adventure, but still flexible enough to provide a natural feel. It won't have the same ground feel as the other Xero shoes, but for those who need some reassurance on more technical terrain, this is the sandal for you. It also has a handy heel cup to help maintain foot placement.

The straps are made of continuous tubular webbing which means no annoying seams - a problem I had with Luna sandals previously. The straps also adjust well and quickly at that. For my skinny feet and ankles, there is quite a bit of strap leftover once I tighten them, but that's easily remedied with a trip to the gear repair/shoe repair shop in town to have them cut down.

Ok, enough of the boring part. Let's get on to how these feel and perform!

I was giddy when pulling them out of the box. They looked sleek and felt both light and soft as silk in my hands. The BareFoam footbed is like nothing I've felt before. When I put them on, it was seriously like slipping my foot onto a piece of unicorn skin! Not that I would know exactly how that feels, because I don't condone the killing of mythical animals for their hides, but imagine along with me, won't you? Thankfully, Xero Shoes use all vegan-friendly materials. In any case, it feels incredible and you hardly know it's there! Smooth as a baby's behind - also something I wouldn't choose to wear on my feet, but you get the idea.

As I mentioned previously, the straps were super easy to adjust, and they felt equally as soft as the sole. They slip through rubber grommets which hold them in place well but don't inhibit the flexibility of the sandal. Once I got them on, I could barely feel them, although there's a pleasant feeling of cushion in a way that still allows good ground feel, as if someone laid a nice piece of felt over the rocks for you to walk on. You still know the rocks are there, but it doesn't hurt.

Without wearing them more than an hour, I decided to take these out on a road run. I was just too excited to wait until I could get on trail. I did 5 miles on pavement while also pushing my two-year-old daughter in the stroller, and these were magical! I did get a small hot spot on my right foot, but I chalked that up to my wonky form while pushing the stroller, and considering I popped off five miles right off the bat and the hot spot started at about 4.5 miles, I'd say that's a solid first performance, especially since I hadn't worn any kind of sandals or gone barefoot outside for at least a month.

October was in full swing and I was concerned about getting in enough runs to truly write an accurate review, but the weather here in Minnesota has been so mild that I was able to take these out on the trail quite a bit. I chose a trail that is single-track and rolling without too much technicality to the terrain. There are definitely some rocky sections, however. The first day I tried them was even more magical than the first road run! It was about 50 degrees and the leaves had started to fall a little, but conditions were dry and perfect. To say that this run was freeing and joyous is an understatement. I haven't experienced such bliss on a run ever! The combination of lightness and protection was unsurpassable, and I floated down the trail, finishing with some of the best stats I've had yet! Here's what the trail looked like:

It's certainly not the gnarliest trail, but after only a few minutes in these sandals, I knew they could stand up to anything. I should also mention that after three or four more 5-milers on this trail, I had no more trouble with hot spots.

This was an incredible first experience with these sandals, but I wanted to know how they would do in wet or muddy terrain. Thankfully we had some serious rain after my first couple runs on this trail, and I was able to test them out in the mud, and they did not disappoint. They stayed on my feet, shed the mud well, and the grip remained solid.

Later in October I went on a canoe trip in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area and brought these with for wet entry and exits if the temps allowed. It was unfortunately in the 20's and 30's for most of the weekend, so I stuck to my rubber boots, but I did take a swim early one morning when it was sunny and calm, and I wore these to help navigate the rocks in the frigid water. Without question, the grip is phenomenal, in the water and out! Even on the slimy rocks at the shore line, these performed like a pro. They dried decently well afterwards too.

In conclusion, I can honestly say that I have found my sandal, and as long as they are being manufactured, I will go nowhere else. They have the perfect combination of groundfeel and protection, grip well in all terrain and conditions, and are some of the most comfortable footwear I have ever owned. They also look like normal sandals, which is a huge plus when wearing them out and about as I've been doing regularly when the temps permit. Whether running or just bumming around town, these are the new go-to sandals. If you want more detailed specs and information, check out the website, and thanks to Xero Shoes and the Barefoot Runners Society for this opportunity!

Moose Mountain Marathon 2015

2016-03-08T17:37:00.000-08:00

Elation.

There is no single word to truly describe how I felt after this race, but elation comes pretty close. Everything finally came together to make for an amazing day on the trail, from the perfect weather and dry trail to my fitness and mental state. This race report will not be as much of a description of my race as it will be dedicated to everything that went into making it so amazing, so if you want good description of the trail and course itself, read some of my other reports. This one is more for those who are interested in what goes into achieving elation.

March 2015 - Registration for the fall races was approaching, and the closer it came, the more I was feeling sad that my wife and I agreed not to run this time, seeing as we had a 5-month-old daughter, making it difficult to train, especially if both of us were to run. In expressing this sadness, my wife - after some thought - graciously agreed to me signing up for the marathon. I will forever be in her debt for this, because I know how much she loves this race series and would have loved to do the same. Having done the 50-miler last year with somewhat disastrous results, I knew that it was way too much for me to fathom this year, so the marathon was the obvious choice. After a few days of tense wondering if I'd make it into the race after a lottery was instituted since the spring series, my participation was verified and it was time to get serious.

I knew I needed an adjusted approach from previous races. Although confident in the bigger changes I made in the last few years to promote better sustainability in running, I definitely had some problem areas to work on, evident from the 50-miler last year. I was aerobically efficient, but my strength and structural integrity were weak. The question was how to do this and maintain my aerobic efficiency.

Answer #1 - Be deliberate with metabolic efficiency training. Up until now, I had been training on what I had learned from a few different sources on how to become a better fat burner and be more metabolically efficient. I switched to a high fat, low carb nutrition plan and was doing all my training using the Maffetone formula (180-age) to determine my heart rate zones for maximum aerobic function. I had lost about ten pounds and was improving, but I lost a lot of strength along the way, and my fast twitch muscles were fading fast. The information provided in Phil Maffetone's books wasn't enough for me, and I needed something more specific, which brought me to Bob Seebohar, an Iron Man triathlete, sports dietitian, and coach, and his book Metabolic Efficiency Training: Teaching the Body to Burn More Fat, which I had heard about more than a year ago, but couldn't seem to get my hands on a hard copy anywhere, until his second edition was released. Now I finally had specifics, and I learned/became aware of two things: being a better fat burner does not mean strict low carb eating, and hard training must still be a regular part of the workout routine. I was too concerned about killing my aerobic efficiency that I didn't want to stray outside of the MAF zone or what I had assumed was the best nutrition to influence this. With this, I would add two major components to my training that had previously been missing: a 4-week metabolic efficiency "binge" to really pad my base, and thereafter one hard workout per week and an additional one or two varied high-intensity workouts that wouldn't stray far enough out of zone to hinder aerobic efficiency. With the race in September, I decided to start the summer with the 4-week ME training, eating super low carb, running an average of six hours per week and keeping all of it in zone (heart rate between 132 and 142bpm). It was extremely difficult for me, because summer usually means relaxing more and enjoying those amazing summertime delights: cold beer, ice cream, and Chipotle burritos. I'm not sure why, but Chipotle has always felt more like a summer food to me. In any case, the restrictions I put upon myself for the month of June required - but also fostered - perhaps the greatest piece to the puzzle of running a solid race:

Discipline.
Living in a cave by myself for those four weeks was not an option, and so living with my wife who had no need for such extremes and who wanted to enjoy the summer the way we have in the past forced me to truly steel myself to withstand the great temptation to indulge in the things that would set me back. The brain is incredibly good at ~~convincing~~ deceiving you to do things you don't rationally want to and your body doesn't want or need, and for a guy who has spent his whole life up until now as a serious carbivore, it took a great deal to resist.

However, the more I resisted those temptingly sweet carbs, and the more I put in those miles in zone, the more my body adapted and my brain switched along with it. I stopped craving beer and ice cream, and although my brain would see it and tell me how awesome it was, I didn't have an emotional craving for it. The rewards of what I was doing now outweighed the desire to give in. This discipline then carried over into my training. I was also seeing some bigger gains in my efficiency. I was running five miles - mostly on pavement pushing a BOB stroller with my little girl (because that was the only option) - and seeing my time above zone dwindle and my speed improve. It was extremely encouraging.

Answer #2 - Prehabilitation aka Get Strong! Previously I had viewed all harder workouts and strength work to be dangerous to my aerobic efficiency, so I didn't do it, and there was also probably a bit of laziness added in there as well, because my time was limited, and the hatred of doing ridiculous exercises when I could be running more didn't help motivate me any more, but with two of my A races in the last two years resulting in injury during the race, I knew that needed to change. With my newfound discipline and some great training schedule examples from Bob Seebohar's book, a new plan was set into play. I would do one hard workout a week of various kinds: tempo run, ladder intervals, and fartlek runs, and sprinkle in shorter bursts of speedwork into my other runs, mostly in the form of strides, of which I'd try to do 8-10 per week anywhere between 40-100 meters each, keeping an eye on my heart rate. Additionally, it was time to get back to the physical therapy exercises I had been given in the last couple of years by an amazing PT who worked magic on my injuries and mechanical deficiencies. My IT band has a tendency to blow in a big way due to weakness in my hips and glutes, so post-run I would throw in one of the following at least twice a week: one-legged squats, forward-leaning standing knee raises with hands against a wall, and monster walks (my personal favorite). On a more regular basis, I upgraded my post-run routine to include the Myrtl routine along with planks on all four sides, starting at 30 seconds each and increasing to one minute per side later in the summer. This, in my opinion, was the huge piece to my strength and stability gains. I also started adding a few yoga poses, as recommended in Joe Uhan's Stay the Course post on iRunFar.com.

Anwer #3 - Run fast...sometimes. Running slowly is great for improving...at running slowly. The importance of speed work was something I read about over and over again but wasn't doing, but this time finally accepted once again as important and doable with my current training. In picking the brain of another badass runner and coach Adam Condit, I decided to combine some pieces of advice from different resources for a sort of training smorgasbord, because after all, variety is the spice of life. I started out with a Friel Lactate Threshold Test, just to see where my LT was, even though it wasn't all too important in regard to aerobic efficiency. The process seemed a bit oversimplified: run as hard as you can for 30 minutes, measure heart rate for the last 20, and the average over those 20 minutes is your LT heart rate, but the guy is well renowned and should know his stuff, so I tried it. This was my first hard run after the 4-week ME (metabolic efficiency) training stint, and I came up with what I feel is a ridiculously high LTHR of 194bpm. Could my ME training have had that much influence on my LT, or is this test completely unreliable? It was, nonetheless, awesome to run as hard as I can again.

August 25, 2015 - Endless Summer Trail Series 5k, Murphy-Hanrehan Park. With only 2.5 weeks until the race, I signed up for a final tune-up to push myself hard one last time. Rocksteady Running, the same people who organize the Superior Trail Races, set up some lovely summer races of varying shorter distances at the more lovely parks around the Twin Cities area, and this was the only one I was actually able to do. I hadn't raced that short a distance in a long time, especially not on trail, so I was curious to see what I could do. The weather was warm, but not uncomfortable, and the vibe was relaxed. I set off fast with the intention to hold back a little at the start, which quickly proved impossible if I wanted to get around the throng of people bottlenecked at the start. Redlining within the first few minutes, I decided to see how it would play out, not backing off and running with all the grit and gusto I had. I haven't hurt that much in a long time, but the unique thing is that my legs and muscles didn't hurt, my chest did. My heart was beating so hard that my throat got sore and my chest felt the pressure, as if my heart was trying to squeeze itself out of my mouth. Not a pleasant feeling, but the race was done before I knew it. In fact, I thought for sure we all took a wrong turn and did 2k instead of 5k, but the timing was right. Crossing the line my time was 22:13, a 6:54/mile pace that was good enough for 29th place out of 275 runners, a personal best! I have never run sub-7-minute miles on trail, especially on one of the most challenging trails in the Twin Cities! This was a turning point for me. I knew for sure that I was ready for this marathon, and that my training had paid off. Not only was my body ready, but so was my brain.

Answer #4 - Mental Management. While driving to and from Ely, MN almost every weekend from April of 2013 until May of 2014 while my wife and I had a distance marriage due to a job opportunity she couldn't pass up, I listened to a lot of Trail Runner Nation podcasts, and one that caught my attention in particular was an interview with Lanny Bassham, an Olympic gold medal shooter, who had created a system to improve his mental game and score him the gold medal in 1976. This interview came back to me at the start of my training for this race, and so I decided to check out his book, With Winning in Mind. I was excited to learn something new about unlocking my mental potential, because it's always been a problem area for me. I get really nervous at competitions, and my adrenaline surges right away, leaving me zapped a short while later when it wears off. The book is a short read, and I must say that nothing in it is life-changing, but two things caught my attention that were simple enough to try, and if they didn't work, there were no negative consequences. The first was to make a deal with yourself or someone else, as a sort of carrot to help you achieve your goal. I somewhat half-heartedly proposed to my wife that if I reached my A goal we would go to one of our favorite and most expensive restaurants for dinner, and if I made my B goal, we'd check out a new sushi place we'd heard about. She agreed. The second - and seemingly more influential - piece to my mental game improvement is known as the Directive Affirmation. With this, you write a specific plan in a short paragraph that speaks as if you've already achieved your goal. It's dated at the top with the goal date, you state what you are or are able to do, list the reasons why that goal is important aka the pay value, then state specifically what you do daily to reach that goal, and finish once again with your statement on who you are or what you can do. You're then supposed to make five copies of it and post it around the house in places you go often (bathroom mirror, refrigerator door etc), and read it every time you visit that place. Do this for 21 days and then rest for nine. Well, I didn't print it out and post it, but I left it open on my computer which I saw everyday, so I made a point to read it often. After a while I had it memorized and recited it to myself at various times throughout the day, such as the drive to and from work. Honestly, as cheesy as the whole process sounds, I think it helped a lot in making me more positive and helping me stay disciplined with my training plan.

The two most important resources - a winning pair.

Sept. 4, 2015 - It's always a pleasure to open my email inbox and see an email from the illustrious Samuel Jurek, and on this day, it was short and sweet: "There is a god," along with the weather forecast for race day; sunny, with a low temp of 45 and a high of 59. Perfect! Things were shaping up for a fast course, as it had been dry in the recent week, and things were looking consistent in the final week before go time. For him it was even better, as he was coming back for attempt #2 at the 100-miler, after absolutely disgusting weather in 2013 and an unfortunate DNF.

With only two weeks left before the race, the training itself now took a backseat and I switched to maintenance workouts: shorter, more speed bursts, a ton of foam rolling, and no more long runs. Now is when I focused once again on the key piece to running well.

Answer #5 - Nutrition. Although I totally geek out on this and would love to post about the actual science behind my decisions, I feel that I wouldn't be able to do it justice, so I'll leave it to the professionals. If you're interested, check out Phil Maffetone and Bob Seebohar. For now, I want to speak to what I have done over the last few years and more specifically what I did differently this time.

In following a high fat, low carb nutrition plan pretty regularly over the last two years, I was feeling that something was still missing. It had much greater benefits than my previous carb-centric diet and I didn't want to go back. In my daily life, the benefits were the greatest: increased and balanced energy throughout the whole day without the sugar crashes mid-morning and afternoon, better gastrointestinal health with no gas or bloat to speak of, and a general feeling of lightness in both mind and body. Don't get me wrong, it was - and is still at times - incredibly hard to resist all of the amazing foods that are packed with sugar, but time after time of indulging in those foods, I felt incredibly crappy afterward, so the pay value wasn't as high. I discovered that certain carb-heavy foods didn't bother me as much, such as most pizzas (no deep dish) or Haagen Dazs ice cream, which was higher in fat and had fewer sugar/carbs than other ice creams. To this, I still had some of the things I enjoyed, and for those I knew I wouldn't enjoy after eating, I lost the desire to eat them at all, at least in most cases. I gotta say, I don't really miss bread all that much, except for the convenience of a sandwich on the go. For someone without a lot of free time, it's hard to find a variety of non-carb foods to eat quickly. Most meals required planning and preparation, but it was worth it.

Throughout the summer, I would usually eat 3 fried eggs for breakfast adding in bacon, sausage, or do a scramble with cheese and veggies on days when I had time, a salad for lunch with at least three healthy fat sources such as cheese, nuts, and an olive-oil-based dressing along with small amounts of fruit, and a dinner with some kind of meat with grilled/roasted vegetables drenched in olive oil and sometimes also with cheese. Burgers and brats were heavily consumed, but with romaine lettuce used for a bun, which by the way, allows one to experience more of the flavor of the burger/brat without muting it with a bun. It's a bit messier, but tasty. Since I was feeling that something was missing in this equation, I decided after my 4-week ME stint that I would periodically add in more healthy carbs to see how it affected my training. Sweet potatoes became a staple, along with increased amounts of delicious summer fruit mostly in berry form, and of course an occasional splurge of ice cream. I noticed that with moderated amounts of these types of carbs, my runs on the following day were more successful in most cases, without sacrificing aerobic efficiency. I was finally figuring out the right balance for my body.

A key takeaway from Bob Seebohar's book was the idea of carbohydrate restoration. The idea is that if you're a fat burner eating low carb most of the time, adding more carbs to your meal the night before a hard workout will not hinder your performance, but rather give you a head start and buffer your fat burning. This, of course, sounds like carb loading, a long-held theory in the endurance world, but it's much more modest than that. If, for example, you're eating 40-50g of carbs a day in your normal plan, you should bump it up to 80-90g for something like an interval run. That's not a huge difference, and certainly doesn't require a giant plate of spaghetti or something equivalent. That's essentially like eating one normal serving of rice with stir fry at dinner, and only before truly hard workouts. That does not include long runs, because long runs should be done at lower intensity. I used this once a week before my one hard workout. For days when I did strides, hill work, or strength training, I didn't need the extra carbs.

A Note on High Fat Low Carb Eating (or any big change in your nurtition)
I want to mention a few things worth noting about changing to this nutrition plan. I'll try to keep it brief, in list form:
- In combining this nutrition with aerobic efficiency-based training, I lost quite a lot of weight and kept it off, whether I wanted to or not.
- I didn't get as hungry as often, because my body was burning more fat - a slow burning fuel.
- I did, however, need to eat a sh*t ton more food to keep up with daily caloric needs, because low carb foods are typically lower in calories. The salads I ate each day were family-style sized.
- Two realizations: carbs are everywhere (take a look at ketchup), and I am totally addicted to sugar.
- This plan is meant for people serious about becoming the best athlete they can be. It takes enormous discipline, patience, and checking your ego at the door. It's a big change in daily living. There's no half-assing it. I wouldn't recommend it unless you're totally motivated.
- It takes support and encouragement to do well. If family and friends aren't on board, or at least understanding, it won't work and will cause havoc with relationships. Some may think you have an eating disorder. Be prepared to compromise when you can.
- It could very well make you food obsessive (see the extreme here), but done properly doesn't need to be extreme. One simply needs to shift daily routine and patterns. It does, however, take time to figure that out for yourself and your own body. Obsessing about it is not mentally healthy, and if body and mind aren't both healthy, then you're not healthy.
- There is an ebb and flow with this eating plan. It is not a diet, but a nutrition plan, and it need not be maintained 100% of the time to the strictest of standards. It's taken me a while to truly figure this out and internalize it. Some people will figure it out faster, and some need time to learn about their own body and how it works, because everyone is different. Nutrition periodization is key. Loosen up in the off season and have the bagel or brownie. It's ok.
- In general, this is the plan I chose to try and it has worked for me over time, especially since I learn more about my body each day and tweak things a bit. Everyone is different, but in following some basic principles, you'll be fine with whatever you eat. A great post to sum this up is from ultrarunning champion and pathologist Pam Smith and can be found here.

RACE WEEKEND - SEPT.11-12, 2015
It was finally here! In the two weeks pre-race, I was feeling quite negative: I was stressed from starting the new school year, didn't feel strong, and just wanted to get the race over with. I'm not sure why I was so negative, considering the many big improvements I'd experienced throughout the summer, but for some reason my brain took a downward spiral, probably just because I was super stressed with work. In any case, I worked a half day on Friday and the girls and I headed up north on a gorgeous sunny afternoon. Runner check-in at Caribou Highlands, dinner at Mogul's Grille, and race day prep to follow.

Pre-race day nutrition: 3 fried eggs for breakfast, almonds for mid-morning snack, lunch of chicken choylla (spicy Tibetan dish with chicken, sauteed peppers/onions/tomatoes over rice) with a little spinach mixed in, and bacon-wrapped meatloaf in mushroom cream sauce with sauteed veggies for dinner at Mogul's.

Although trying to get myself ready and help my wife prepare for the day of crewing with our 10-month-old daughter and two dogs in tow was a little stressful, I slept really well, which is quite unusual. The morning started at 5am with breakfast of homemade grain-free granola (nuts, seeds, coconut shavings/oil, cinnamon, and honey) in Greek yogurt and about 8oz of my usual pre-race drink (scoop of chocolate whey protein, 2oz coconut milk, 10oz almond milk) which had frozen into a slushy in the overachieving hotel fridge overnight. Everything else came together and I was on the bus headed to the start. It turns out I sat across from a guy I met at the 5k a few weeks prior, so we chatted a bit about this and that. He had finished right behind me and thanked me for setting a good finishing pace, and mentioned that he was hoping to do the same with this race. I told him we'd see.

The start was brisk, but perfect running weather. I got in a solid warm-up and was thoroughly enjoying the cool temperature. The best part was the woman next to me who was all smiles while wearing a shirt with big black letters that read, "I HATE RUNNING." How's that for inspiration?

Although wanting to run the first part of the race measured and relaxed, I set out at a somewhat brisk pace in the front half as not to get stuck behind slower runners once the pack turned onto the trail itself from the road, where everything bottlenecks. The goal was to run measured, but not "like a sissy" as Max King put it in his Ice Age 50 race report from last year. I hit it perfectly, just behind some runners going a little faster than I would like, with runners behind me going no faster than my current pace. Golden.

The race was truly a blur. I ran behind a couple of runners for a while - one woman in purple and a guy in bright orange - and shared some good conversation. I kept passing the woman on the downhills and she'd overtake me on the uphills, so we agreed to let it play out. Once we hit Cross River, however, she and the guy in orange took off. Later on there was a college student from St. Cloud behind me for a good stretch. It was his first marathon, and he seemed to like my pace. Once we hit Temperance AS - which came up a helluva lot quicker than I expected, even with it being the longest stretch of trail on the course - I didn't see him again. I rolled through there in about 51 seconds, but only after the girl who filled my water said, "Hey, I remember you. You had the cute baby at the restaurant last night!" It's those kind of statements that make trail racing fun. Thanks for that, whoever you are.

The second section includes the climb up Carlton Peak, which was thoroughly enjoyable this time around. Once again, it came up quicker than expected. I made good use of the awesome sustained downhill coming off the backside. I was a little bit sluggish rolling in to Sawbill AS, but still feeling good, and looking forward to seeing my girls. Upon arrival, no wife and daughter! It was here that I realized I was blazing at my A-goal pace! I also wasn't going to wait around, so I fueled up and took off.

Now it was on! Between Sawbill and Oberg is the fastest part of the trail, with rolling hills and relatively smooth trail. It was quiet here and I was alone for most of this section, passing an occasional runner. I recalled the last climb up to Oberg from 2013 and remembered how trashed I was feeling, but this year the thought was: "I'm eating this sh*t for breakfast, but actually since I had breakfast, this is second breakfast!" Hitting the soft, wide path shrouded in pine just before the opening into Oberg was almost magical, and I hit the downhill into the AS with a huge smile, especially because my girls were there waiting! One of the TC Running Company guys made swift work of filling my Camelbak while I connected with girls, who just barely missed me at Sawbill.

On to the final stretch! I was pumped to get moving and blaze the last 7+ miles on my all-time favorite stretch of trail. Coming down off Oberg Peak I opened it up a bit more, only to feel a blip on the inside of my right quad, threatening to cramp. Damn! I was feeling so great. It was time to pay attention to my form a bit more. I was letting my legs splay out to the sides and my feet get in front of me too much, but by the time I got to the long, steep climb up Moose Mountain, I was ready. I kicked it into climbing gear and set out, passing a guy in a green shirt, who held on with me to the top. After the race he came up to me and thanked me for pulling him up the mountain with him, but to be honest, it was him right behind me that put me in gear. Heading down Moose felt fast, but I was focusing hard to keep that threatening quad in check.

Next came the "Long Climb of Loneliness" as I like to call it, up Mystery mountain. This time around it wasn't long or lonely! I felt great and was hiking well. At the top of this climb is where I usually set it to my final push and realized at this point that I've never been passed in this last section, so I felt confident and was ready to keep it that way.

Until I heard footsteps approaching behind me.

A tall guy in a hunter green shirt passed me up at a brisk pace, but not too brisk that I couldn't hang with him, so it was on! We zigzagged through the woods until we passed the campsite, which is always my signal that the end is incredibly near! One last set of screaming downhills before hitting the approach trail and the river. I stepped out in front, feeling ready to fly...and then promptly ate it, my first fall ever in a race! Tumbling into the soft dirt just off the trail, I got up quickly, checked myself, and took off. Green shirt guy was about 30 yards up the trail, and just as I started cruising, I saw him faceplant. Now it was getting interesting! I caught up and passed him, feeling both my quads offering a "hang on a minute there" in polite rebellion, but ignored it. Bad idea. Just after passing, I ate it again! This time it was a bit more intense and I did a sort of awkward side roll to get myself up without coming to a full stop. The sudden jolt sent a huge blip to my right hamstring. No, I can't cramp now! Ok, at this point, being way ahead of my A-goal pace, I decided to back off and let Green Shirt Guy run his own race. It wasn't worth cramping right before the worst part of the race, namely the 3/4 mile of pavement back to Caribou Highlands. Setting into a swift and only somewhat uncomfortable rhythm, I hauled it in to the finish ahead of schedule, with such joy that I did a diving somersault across the finish line, squirting water out of my Camelbak all over me. Official finish time 15:15:25 with a 12:03/mile pace!

BEST RACE EVER!

As I've said before, I'm no elite runner, but surpassing lofty goals is something truly amazing, especially when everything comes together and it almost feels - dare I say - effortless. I had a blast on the trail that day, and it went by so quickly.

As wrap-up, I'll stick to my traditional format:

GRADES

Fitness - A
Of course there's always room for better fitness, but I nailed it this time around with the added hard workouts and additional PT/post-run exercises. Other than the blip in my right quad, everything felt solid.

Mechanics - A-
Just like with my fitness, I feel that my form was solid and sustainable. The only thing that gives me pause is that inner right quad blip. I was stepping too much out front and to the side on downhills with my right leg. That hints to an imbalance that I'll need to figure out more. It might simply be psychosomatic.

Mental Toughness - A
Great mood all day, ready to race but disciplined and smart.

Nutrition/Hydration - A
No problems whatsoever. Consumed only gels, banana chunks, Heed, and water all day, and in relatively small amounts. Fat burning was truly optimized.

Joy - A+
I totally overachieved on this one. I had no lows at all, even when I felt a little sluggish coming in to Sawbill. I had my party pants on...or shorts as it were.

Pacing - A
Allow me to share my stats, for you number nerds like me.

- Start-Temperance: 1:27:51 (7.1mi, 12:22/mi pace), avg HR 165, max 171, AS time - 57sec

- Temp-Sawbill: 1:07:23 (5.7mi, 11:48/mi), avg HR 168, max 173, AS time - 2:07

- Sawbill-Oberg: 1:06:08 (5.5mi, 12:00/mi), avg HR 172, max 180, AS time - 5:11

- Oberg - Finish: 1:25:48, (7.1mi, 12:00/mi), avg HR 177, max 192

- Avg HR for the whole race: 170, max 192.

Until the next excessively tardy race report. Cheers!

Superior Trail Races 50 Mile

2014-09-19T21:31:00.000-07:00

"I think I'm done," I told my wife, hands on my throbbing knees and fighting back tears. The time was 6:47pm, I had been walking for the previous 24 miles, and I had reached the final aid station just 13 minutes before the cutoff. The final runners there were scurrying to get their needed supplies and head out as the volunteers were packing up after 19 hours of service to several hundred runners. The thought of suffering for 7.1 more miles on the toughest section of the course in the dark was something I couldn't get my head around, and yet I couldn't admit that I was truly done.

Traveling 50 miles on foot in a day is not something most people would consider, let alone run that far on one of the most challenging trails in the Midwest. Some hear about people running this distance - and much farther distances - and nonchalantly recognize it as something that crazy people do, without ever grasping what it is to actually do it: how much time it takes to train, the mental energy expended obsessing over the preparation, the strain on relationships, and how much willpower, grit, and patience it takes to execute on race day while enduring what can at times be the greatest suffering that the runner has ever endured, certainly in the physical realm, but most often also on the mental side as well.

Add to that the specifics of this race. As the race website states: "[it has the] reputation as one of the toughest, most scenic and best marked trail 50′s in the country." It's technically 52.1 miles point-to-point, 100% trail and 99% single-track. It has an elevation gain of 12,500ft and an elevation loss of 12,500ft for a net change of 25,000ft. The course record is 8:53:19. Take a look below at the elevation profile and you'll know why it's referred to as the Sawtooth Mountains.

THREE YEARS is a long time to wait to accomplish a goal, especially when it has to do with something you do almost every day anyway. The goals I typically choose for myself are usually much more swiftly accomplished, but in the summer of 2011, I realized that there was something big I needed to do, and it would take a great deal of time, devotion, and discipline to make happen. Crewing for my friend Joe Uhan at the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run in California that June was an epiphany of sorts, witnessing this crazy sport called ultrarunning. I've mentioned this experience many times in my previous entries, but it's interesting to think back to it now as I finally reached the goal event that I set out to do. In the previous three years, I went from being an occasional 5k runner to running barefoot, overhauling my mechanics, drastically changing my diet to promote fat burning, training with a heart rate monitor to maximize aerobic function, volunteering at an ultra, running half marathons, a marathon, and a 50k, and reading or listening to anything and everything I could on ultrarunning and the various ways to prepare and succeed at it. It's been an interesting journey to say the least, not without its ups and downs, but this last weekend was the culmination thus far in such a long journey.

The Bucket List (for now)

In preparing for this race, I knew that this summer would be key, but would also present myriad challenges. I had just come off of the best race of my life - my first 50k - in May on the same trail as this 50-miler, and was intent on maintaining my fitness and building strength over the summer. The only problem was that I would be traveling for most of the summer, first in Germany with 34 students for four weeks, and then in Norway for two weeks visiting friends. Consistency was definitely not in the cards, and I am a man of routine. Additionally, my wife is eight months pregnant, and preparation for the baby has required a good deal of thought and effort, and continues to do so. The greatest setback for me, however, was the death of my father on the 4th of July. I was in Germany at the time, and it was a devastating shock that threw me completely out of the orbit of my world. I truly felt disconnected from my own reality, unable to get back into a rhythm of normalcy. To say I was mentally stretched is quite the understatement, especially when I went back to work again for another school year. I knew when registering for this race back in March that I would face challenges, but was not prepared for the burden that those challenges actually became. At least I was feeling good, and had a few enjoyable runs, including a 35km run in the Fjella of southern Norway, which looks a lot like a melding of the North Shore and the Ely/BWCA forests.

TWO WEEKS prior to the race, I embarked on a quick two-day adventure up to the Superior Hiking Trail with beast athlete and fellow adventure friend Sam Jurek in order to scope out the first half of the course that I had not yet seen. Everyone I had talked to mentioned how brutal the 9.4 mile stretch between the Crosby-Manitou and Sugarloaf aid stations is, so I wanted to be prepared. We drove two cars up and set out a plan to see the entire first 26 miles if time and energy allowed. The weather was perfect, albeit a bit humid, and the trail was devoid of other humans save for one ragged through-hiker, and Sam and I had a lot of catching up to do. It was a disservice to me and Sam that my mind was in a negative spin at the moment. I was concerned about keeping the effort easy so close to the race, but that would mean going so slow that Sam would be tortured by my snail's pace. These two thoughts were so conflicted that I couldn't keep my stress in control and my heart rate spiked immediately after we started running. At about the 18 mile point, my IT band tightened so much that it yanked my left knee into an aggravated, unrunnable state, the same condition I experienced last fall during the marathon. Now I felt really f***ed. To a certain extent it was a blessing, however, because it caused me to give up the endgame and just roll with it. I focused on the PT exercises I was given after last fall's incident, and rested as much as possible. What else was there to do?

THREE HOURS pre-race, the alarm rips me from a dream at 2:15am and I'm up to eat and get ready. After taking the previous day off of work to make my way up north with a bit more leisure, stopping in Duluth to have lunch with my brother- and sister-in-law at Northern Waters Smokehaus, I had everything laid out and my mind was finally lucid and relaxed, except for one detail; in my rather scattered last-minute packing of my personal stuff (I had spent more than a week carefully packing the gear box for my crew), I realized on Friday night that I had brought my heart rate monitor strap, but forgot the watch at home! This is the one thing I need to help keep my pace, because I suck and keeping my running measured when racing. I figured that this was the sign that I was meant to relax and just race by feel, that I knew by now what my heart rate and body were telling me. Normally this would have been something that I couldn't get over, but with everything I had experienced in the previous two months, I let it roll off and was thankful that I wouldn't have to wear that strap all day.

My breakfast of paleo granola with Greek yogurt and a whey protein/coconut milk shake went down easy as I ate quietly in the dark motel bathroom as not to wake my wife and crew. Suiting up, lubing up with sunscreen and bug juice, and grabbing my start line bag, I was out the door after a goodbye kiss and a "see you soon" for my wife. The timing was almost exact as I climbed aboard the yellow school bus that would shuttle me and my fellow 50-milers to the start line. The "bus manager" boarded and gave us the details, and when another runner asked him for something more profound, he paused and then said something like, "This race is a gift. The weather, the volunteers, and the course are giving you a great gift today, so go out there and make the best of it." Unknown to me at the time, that simple first sentence would be what pushed me through some of the greatest suffering I've experienced ever in my life. It didn't click as much at the moment because we were all too busy laughing nervously as our bus driver took a wrong turn before even getting out the parking lot. An outspoken runner from the back was our sole saving grace who directed our clueless yet pleasant driver to the start line after one more missed turn, prompting the driver to keep going despite his desire to wait for the guy he was following with the convincing urgency in his statement, "I gotta take a dump!" It should also be noted, that for most of us there at the Finland Rec Center, it was the first time that the line for the men's room was longer than for the women's restroom. I suppose it's proof that women don't poop.

The banter was lighthearted and electric as we gathered outside for race director John Stohrkamp's final directions under the crisp, clear night sky, with stars that never before seemed so welcoming and bright. I had enjoyed this view on the bus ride, feeling calm and thankful with a few small prayers in my heart: for health and safety of all, a successful finish, and that my wife would not go into labor on this day. We lined up on the road with only ten seconds to start, and suddenly we were off.

I had never started a race in the dark before, and running with a headlamp creates a rather surreal experience, especially when it's not very bright. I had a small amount of headlamp envy as my fellow runners' head torches blazed the path in front of them. I was quite happy to be in the midst of their light all around me on the road to the trail. Dipping down onto the trail, the forest enveloped us in its lush, dense blanket and we truly began our journey. It suddenly became quiet. The energy was still light, but focused, as we all now contemplated the day ahead. After ten minutes or so, voices emerged from ahead and behind as the runners loosened up once again and began to chat. To the general audience around me I asked when the sing-a-long would start, and the guy behind assured me that I didn't want to hear him sing, so instead I requested jokes. Jim, who first declined to sing, started it off with an Ole and Lena joke. I followed with several more, and this locked in our trail companionship for the next several miles. He asked if he could pace behind me, as he liked my approach in the beginning miles, so we talked training and running history, and he shared the challenges of running on a treadmill and playing video games simultaneously. With a baby on the way, I gleaned some insight into my possible future from his tales of time management and multitasking.

Soon enough the light from our headlamps was no longer visible and the starlight transposed to muted morning colors and a fresh smell of damp soil. The terrain in the first section was rolling and moderately technical with no real surprises, and the conversation flowed easily. Eventually I stopped to pee and lost my new-found running comrade Jim, and I did not see him again. Soon after, however, a group of guys came up behind me, and in listening to their conversation I recognized both a familiar story and a voice. Turning around, I recognized a man I had run into a couple times before, once when I was volunteering at Sawbill AS back in 2012, and again in the hot tub at Caribou Highlands after the marathon last year. I first noticed him because he did the marathon in 2012 in Vibram Five Fingers, which I thought was rather brave. It seems we were on a similar path, and as it happened, were running at a similar pace. Reintroducing himself as Chad, he and his buddy Andy tucked in behind me as we rolled into the first aid station, Sonju Lake. It's a small operation with no crews aloud, and we were all feeling so good that we didn't spend much time there. A quick cup of Heed, a thank you to the volunteers, and I was off. Chad and Andy followed suit and we passed the next few miles with banter at a swifter pace that I would have liked, but it still felt comfortable. I was reminded of Max King's Ice Age 50 race report and the statement of his that has been my mantra ever since; "Don't run like a sissy." Without a heart rate monitor, and having the distraction of conversation, I must say that in looking back it's still hard to tell if I was running smart or letting my joy overexcite me.

Stopping to pee again - a trend that proved my nutrition and hydration was locked in, Chad and Andy passed me a short ways before we opened up onto Bensen Lake Rd that leads up to Crosby-Manitou State Park and the aid station there. I could see them up ahead and made my way to them, power-hiking the gradual uphill, slowly passing the string of parked cars that led toward the sounds of civilization. Rounding up over the hill I could see Anna waiting for me, followed by her brothers Nathan and Jerod and their folks Tim and Nancy. It was the first time I got to see my wife and crew that day, and there was joy, relief, and comfort seeing them there with gear ready for me. Jerod filled my Camelbak while still on my back to save time, only for me to discover that I still needed to take it off to empty the air from it to avoid sloshing. Duly noted for the next AS. I chatted for a few minutes and Nathan informed me that I was right on pace between my first and second scenarios (perhaps a bit too fast?). Grabbing a banana and some gels, I made my way happily up the hill out of the AS and onto the longest stretch of the race, 9.4 miles to Sugarloaf.

In hearing several reports of the 50-mile course, every person said that this stretch from Crosby to Sugarloaf was the hardest. It's the longest single stretch between aid stations and includes some rocky terrain, some densely overgrown areas, and a few short, steep climbs. After running it with Sam, I felt that it wasn't all that hard, just really long. It tends to drag on quite a bit, and can be especially challenging if running alone. I had left the aid station before Chad and Andy in the attempt to follow my plan to keep moving early in the race, but set out at an easy tempo to relax a bit and settle in some more. Normally in races I like to be alone; it helps me relax, focus, and I don't need to waste breath talking or stare at the back of someone else's feet, which can make me really dizzy. I didn't mind it too much here as the sun peeked in through the dense cover from time to time and my brain spun in its rambling directions from one thought to another. The "brain iPod" was playing a track from the new Jonathan Byrd CD I got at the Storyhill Fest music festival over Labor Day weekend, which had a few key lines akin to my predicament:

"There's a jack knife out on highway 10,

it's the biggest mess I ever seen,

I'm waiting to meet the candy man,

it's been a long time, since I've been clean."

Reaching the one steep climb I remembered from the training run two weeks prior, a group of guys - who had been hootin' and hollerin' down the previous hill - came upon me and it felt like an eighteen-wheeler tailgating me on the interstate. I had to pee again anyway, so I stepped off the trail to let them by. "You're peein' a lot today, Matt!" shouted a voice from the middle of the pack. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Chad truckin' along, so I dropped in behind them and settled back in. We soon lost one of the guys, and the front runners pulled ahead, leaving just Chad and I. He had left Andy at Crosby to take care of some foot issues and was on his own. Already with a tight left IT band and sore right glute, he lamented, "I think the marathon would have suited me just fine today." He was still moving well it seemed, and I was comfortable at that pace, so we picked up our conversation and rolled. With about three miles to go to Sugarloaf, I was feeling a little antsy and wanted to pick it up just a little, so I bid Chad adieu and smoothed out the pace a little. This didn't last long, however, because my brain decided to get in the way. On a nice, easy flat section along an unknown lake, I reached the exact point where I remember my IT band jacking my left knee out of place on my training rung. Suddenly, I felt it again. It had been a little tight since Crosby, but was working fine, until I remembered it. Almost like clockwork I could feel the knee going, with minute flickers of acute pain when stepping in certain ways. The knee was going, and there was nothing I could do about it. I slowed down, focused on my mechanics, and tried to get my head in check. "This is nothing. You won't blow it out again if you take care of yourself now. You got this." I still felt positive and was in control, despite the blips that were growing. At just the perfect time, I rolled in to Sugarloaf, finishing on a beautiful stretch of open, flat trail through a grove of trees that both shelters and welcomes the runners into the aid station.

Sugarloaf felt a bit more hopping than Crosby, being more out in the open as the sun was shining high. It was a bit awkward as I stood at the aid station, because a huge puddle separated me from my family. They clearly didn't want to get in the way of any runners coming through, but had eager smiles on their faces and wanted to help. After getting what I needed from the aid station, I stepped around a bit more, had Anna remove my arm sleeves, and chatted briefly before taking off again; 5.6 miles to Cramer Rd and the half-way point in the race.

The looks on the faces of both wife and dog are quality foreshadowing.

Although I was in good spirits, the memories of suffering on this section of trail two weeks prior were incredibly fresh and vivid. The power of the mind is something I've come to respect in the last year or so, and this was an example of that in the negative. I fought hard to keep positive, thankful for the weather and the day, feeding off of the energy I got from my family, and telling myself that I could make this work, but the visceral memory ran deep. My left knee was tweaking more and more, and the pain was becoming more organized and consistent. I started walking more, focusing on feeling my body relax and loosen up. No good. The knee was going to do what it was going to do. In addition, the majority of this stretch of trail was unrunnable mud. There was no getting around it, and it spanned the entire width of the trail, making travel miserable. Finally drying out and recognizing the last 3/4 mile to the aid station, I made a point to try and run easily as much as possible. I mean, it's all about looking good, right? Waiting at the road was Nathan with the camera in hand, cheering me on. I crossed and took the trail down to the trail spur that leads to the parking lot. As soon as I turned onto the spur I could run no further. I hobbled in to the aid station, feeling defeated. Stooping with hands on my knees, the conversation at the aid station was something like this :

Me: "That section SUUUUCKED!"

Anna: "Yeah, everyone has been saying how terrible it is. How are you feeling?"

Me: "I've got good news and bad news. The bad news is that I blew my knee out a few miles ago. The good news is that I'm not done yet."

Silence.

Jerod: "Damn right you're not!"

Leave it to my brother-in-law Jerod to say exactly the right thing, simultaneously sternly encouraging and humorous, to put us all back into reality. I told them that I couldn't quit at the half-way point, even if it meant walking to the next aid station. The decision was to keep moving as long as my knee allowed, or until I missed the cutoff at an aid station or the sweepers caught up to me. In any case, I was still on my middle pacing scenario, which surprised me quite a bit. I stretched a little and grabbed a bit more food than in the plan, as I knew I would be walking and my stomach could handle more than if I were running. Perusing the options, I noticed a pot full of breakfast sausages! "Sausage? I love you!" I blurted out to the volunteers as I scarfed one down, followed by a square of grilled cheese. Food never tasted so good. I decided to pass on the biscuits and gravy though, which turned out to be a good call. At this point, Chad rolled in and I asked how he was doing. He mentioned dropping and made it sound inevitable. I wondered if this was also my fate, but was not ready to admit to it.

Walking out of the aid station, I was revived and positive, despite the conditions. Sure, I was walking in a race that I should be running, but I knew this second half of the course decently well, and it was a gorgeous day. Running or walking, a beautiful sunny day on the trail can't be under-appreciated. Thankfully, the first half of this section is relatively flat, so I was able to move quickly. I had forgotten, however, that this stretch was over seven miles, and not 5.5 as I had thought. It did seem to drag a bit, until finally a familiar face caught up to me. Chad pulled in behind me and we regaled each other of the events of the day since we had split. He was now in the pain cave and had been for a while, and sounded rather sure that he would drop at Temperance. I explained my situation as well, and after some deliberation I thought it was silly for him to drop at Temperance with no crew and no way to communicate with them. Having thought ahead before I had arrived at Cramer, I told my family to go to the Temperance River State Park parking lot and hike up to the bridge and wait there. Since no crew was allowed at Temperance AS, I would continue past there down to the bridge, where I would either have officially dropped back at the AS and would hop in the car with them to head back to the motel, or would continue on to Sawbill AS. The more I thought about it, though, I knew that Sawbill was a distinct possibility. We did the calculations for our current pace, time of day, and cutoff times for the aid stations, and realized that we still had plenty of time. Wanting to encourage him, I offered up a pact to forge ahead to Sawbill, and we would make the call there. Albeit somewhat begrudgingly it seemed, he agreed.

It wasn't long after that when we hit a "money" section of flat open trail that runs along the Temperance River to the bridge that crosses over and heads back upstream. By now, I was completely unable to run except for about ten hobble-jog steps at a time every few minutes. Chad, on the other hand, was feeling a little better and decided to try and run for a bit. "You'll probably catch up to me later," he said as he started running. I was happy to encourage him to do so and hoped that he would find some redemption. Not long after, I made my way to the bridge and found my family waiting there, looking relaxed, especially my Husky Dart, who was lying in the "dead dog" position on the warm pavement. Standing there on the pavement amongst tourists and day-trippers was an almost unfamiliar feeling, as this is the closest a racer will get to main roads or non-race people the whole day. I didn't care to stay long, but I basked in the warmth of my family surrounding me and took a few moments to pet my dog and rub my wife's baby bump. Surprisingly, I was still on pace! I had completed the stretch from Cramer to Temperance at just under a 16min/mile pace while walking the whole thing. This bode well for me and I was now set on finishing this race, but I still had to climb Carleton Peak. Time to go.

Looking like crap, doin' the "hobble jog"

The "dead dog" yoga pose.

Heading back upstream into the wilderness, the trail is equally smooth and flat as its counterpart on the other side, so I decided to push a little and run whatever I could. I forced the "jobble" and tried to move quickly any way I could. It was ten steps running followed by double that speed walking and it was working well. Reaching the point at which the trail starts to climb, I power-hiked to make some time. I passed a hundred-miler with a most excellent beard and a will that was dwindling. I encouraged him on as best I could, hoping that he would make it to the finish. Although this section is only 5.7 miles, it contains the toughest climb on the whole course, but it's not without a dark sense of humor. The trail climbs from the Temperance River valley at about 650ft up to about 1250ft in the span of approximately 2.5 miles, and then you see the peak...and the gorge in between you and it. Just as you think you've made it, you must go down again into the woods and then climb an additional 250ft in less than a mile up ancient boulders, skirting along ominous rock faces with deep fissures pumping out cool air. It's refreshing, but seemingly out of place on this course. The climb itself this time around wasn't altogether unpleasant for me. Whereas I normally suck at climbing during races, my current condition had made climbing my strong suit. I powered up the trail, thinking back to the summit turnaround of the 50km last May and wishing that the volunteer was still up there with the beer he was offering to runners. I settled for water and another S! Cap and made my way over the top and down. Normally, heading down the other side is incredibly fast. The trail rewards those willing to relax and open up a bit to zoom down, but today the larger drops from the boulders toward the top end destroyed me. Going down was viciously terrorizing both knees now after overcompensating with the right knee. I poked my way down gingerly as a few runners passed by. Thankfully the aid station isn't far after the descent of Carleton.

Sawbill aid station. I've had a fondness for Sawbill ever since I volunteered there in 2012 with the Immerfall family who has been championing its operation for the last twenty or so years. Not thirty seconds after I stopped, another familiar face was right there to greet me. For the life of me I can't remember his name, but he volunteered there as well in 2012 and has run the 50-miler in the past. I can credit him for first warning me of the stretch between Crosby and Sugarloaf, and it was nice to see his imposing stature and ear-to-ear grin. He was incredibly helpful as we chatted, and Dale Immerfall also came up to say hi. I almost didn't have the chance to talk to my wife, but I felt tremendously supported - something I needed after the last stretch. The people there were so helpful, in fact, that they beat my crew to their jobs. With the whirlwind of humanity buzzing here, there was no doubt I would make it to Oberg AS, and if I made it to the last official aid station, why wouldn't I make it to the finish? The pain and tiredness were catching up to me, but my stubborn mind was determined. Kiss the wife and go!

The motivational force is strong with this one.

Lovely day for a walk.

Keeping track of my pace since I started walking, I was making decent time and figured I could get close to my third scenario goal time of 14hrs 49min. This thought was rather perplexing, seeing as I was walking, but considering the terrain and average pace of a runner, I guess power-hiking was a close second in regard to moving quickly. The section from Sawbill to Oberg is also an easier 5.5 miles of rolling terrain. No problem...except for the boredom. The sun had baked me on the previous section - the most exposed section of the course - and now my mind was losing focus. I started to consider how long I had been on the trail, and how ridiculous such an endeavor is. For weeks before the race I had contemplated bringing my iPod should I really want it, but I have never been able to run with music and didn't see the need for it, especially since I can never get earbuds to stay in. Such a failure of preparation I have never regretted more. The "brain iPod" had shut off and my mind was spinning into a vortex of boredom and negativity, and all I needed was some tunage to pump me up. No deal. Oh, and there was more mud, lots of it. The constant slipping was starting to aggravate much more than my knees.

Dark times. Many ultrarunners - particularly 100-milers - speak of the dark times that a runner faces mentally, where the stress on the body breaks down the brain and it cannot remain positive and in focus. Although I was on one of the easiest stretches of the course, I was moving incredibly slowly, the pain in my legs was steady in both the throbbing and stabbing varieties, and my brain had opened up a deluge of destructive thoughts. Never before had I been in the middle of such a conflicting proposition; quit at Oberg with only 7.1 miles left and be free of the suffering and pain, or continue on in the dark for another 3 hours and slowly go insane. Thoughts of my father also came to mind, combining my loss with my current suffering and pain. I had decided soon after his death to dedicate this race to him (albeit privately), so how would I honor him with this miserable excuse for a race, especially if I quit? "Ugh, stop thinking like that, Matt. It will only destroy you more."

Struggling to hold back tears, I approached the aid station. Looking at my watch, I saw that I had only thirteen minutes before the aid station closed. I was at least five minutes out, maybe more, and this stretch of 5.5 miles had taken me almost two hours and twenty minutes. The thought of stopping and waiting in the woods so that I would miss the cutoff crossed my mind briefly, but I dismissed it just as quickly as it came. That would be a complete and total waste of the gift in the most weak way possible. The woods opened up to one of the coolest entrances to an aid station I've seen, and one that I had hoped would make an awesome photo op, but now that I was hobbling and it was nearing dark, that small dream had vanished rather quickly. There were few people left at Oberg, and the aid station volunteers were already packing up.

"I think I'm done."

As the words left my mouth to my wife, another rushing impulse of tears flooded to the surface, but I held it back. Anna, thank God, called me on it, and asked me if I knew that I was done, or just thought so. We had made a pact before the race that would apply both to my race and her giving birth. Should I want to quit or should she want an epidural, the other would simply ask, "100%?" If we were 100% sure, then there are no questions asked and no further encouragement to go on in the present state. She posed the short question to me, and I wavered. I knew I couldn't give up, but I just couldn't wrap my head around three hours of suffering in the dark, just to finish a race that has no real meaning (or so I was thinking at the time). Knowing me as well as she does, Anna reminded me that I had just come 45 miles, and if I didn't finish now I would hate myself for a long time. At this moment, the aid station captain and sweeper came up to me and inquired how I was doing and if I had my headlamp with me. When I showed signs of doubt, he very matter of factly said, "You're not done. You've got about half-an-hour of light left and then two hours in the dark. No problem. Can I check your headlamp to see that it works?" Sometimes it's necessary to hear things put bluntly. "I've seen much worse. You're not done." He reassured me, and I realized that I was still standing, still walking, and still lucid. He and Anna were right. Jerod filled my Camelbak for me one last time and I took a gel and a Kashi bar from Anna and headed out after one more prompting from the sweeper. "You need to go now. I'll be coming your way soon, and I hope not to see you." I told him that if he did catch up to me, he'd damn well better bring the horse to carry me in. "Oh no, the horse will just run you over." Fair enough.

Anna walked me to the trail, reassuring me that I could do this and that I was doing the right thing. As we parted, I felt one more swell of tears, but turned to the trail and immediately went into determination mode. "Let's put this beast to bed!" I knew I couldn't run and that downhills were excruciating, so I took stock and asked myself what I could do. I could power-hike. Looking as ridiculous as the speed walkers in the Olympics, I took off up Oberg Mountain like a man on a mission. There was no way I was going to be on that damn trail another three hours. I've been able to run it in 1:15 in the past, so I should be able to hike it in two hours, I thought.

Leaving the aid station I was dead last. That made me the DFL representative (Dead F***ing Last), and with my new motivation I took that as a badge of honor. If I was going to be dead last, then I would at least make it look good. My first goal was to make it as far as I could with the daylight that I had left. After discovering that morning that my headlamp really isn't that good, I didn't want to be in pitch-black forest on arguably the most technical section of the trail with a crappy light. I soon caught up to some of the runners who had passed me in the last section, which ruined the growing pride of being last. I was almost looking forward to it, but no matter. I passed the incredibly peppy 100-mile woman who exclaimed; "Great job! I sure wish I could keep up with you, but keep it up!" Later, I passed the 100-miler with hiking poles in pristine-looking street shoes (his fourth pair of shoes for the race) and his pacer that I had run with a bit earlier, and as I moved around them, his pacer exclaimed, "Wow, he's on a mission! Nice job!" Although it's always nice to hear positive comments, I was too focused to give a sh**. Eyes forward and legs moving. I started passing more and more people who I recognized from earlier on. I thanked them for letting me by and cheered them on, but did so quickly. I can't recall ever going up Moose Mountain so quickly or with such little effort. Spending most of the day at a heart rate well below my normal aerobic range must have prepped me for this. Half way up the longest, steepest climb, there was a tree down across the trail, but at chest height, with no possibility of going under it, and little of going over. There was another runner there contemplating how to get over it, so I directed her to the side of the trail where there was just enough ground built up to climb over. I offered her a hand once I got over, and almost fell over in doing so. Thankfully, I made it to the top and out onto the flat section before the blue above changed to black.

Darkness. The moment finally arrived when I was forced to turn on my headlamp. "Now it gets real," I thought to myself, hoping that my headlamp would do the trick. My eyes had been adjusting naturally, and now the headlamp added a surreal contrast between the complete absence of light off to the sides of the trail with the little bit of definition I got from the light in front. Periodically, trail markers would appear, horizontal reflective pieces of tape floating like some kind of forest spirit there to guide me. A few times I also spotted a bouncing light up ahead and wondered if I might overtake them. The light seemed far away, and suddenly it was right in front of me. I passed several runners in the pitch black, one of whom asked me if I knew where we were. Thankfully I knew exactly where we were, as we had just topped out of the "long lonely climb of loneliness," the winding gradual climb up Mystery Mountain that always saps my energy at the end of these races, but not tonight. I felt awesome and couldn't quit. During the day, I recognize every inch of trail on this section, as I have now run it four times, this being my fifth (the eighth time if you consider the out-and-backs), but there was a long stretch where I had no idea where I was. Following the trail was a type of vertigo, and my mind struggled to determine where exactly my location was. Just then I noticed something glowing off the trail to the side. On a strangely-shaped lump that was definitely off the ground, I made out the reflective tape on a hammock between two trees. Following that, I saw a campfire ring and realized I was a lot farther than I thought. This was the marker I always look for, the campsite just before the turn off the trail to head down to the road! In a mad fever, I turned right and started bounding down the trail, almost running, and with no pain! Down, down, down, until I saw a headlamp standing still. A man in street clothes said, "You're almost done. Keep it up." I could hear the rushing Poplar River, and suddenly the trail opened up wide, leading to the turn onto the bridge. Turning my head to either direction, I paused ever so briefly to take in the beauty of the full moon shining on the river as it plunged dramatically down the hillside. Immediately after crossing the river I scurried up the small hill, passing four runners walking together, and the temperature must have risen at least 10 degrees! The air rising from the cold river water had just as dramatic an effect on the air temperature as it did on the scenery.

Gravel road turns to pavement. Now the last, and most painful stretch of the race. It's flat, open pavement and you can see and hear the resort, but the road stretches on for an eternity. Passing Papa Charlie's bar, I could smell the burgers, salivating while trying to stay focused on the finish. I wondered if I should stop and make that my last aid station, but continued on, mainly for the simple reason that I didn't have any money with me. A random guy standing by his truck asked me what time I started this morning, and after saying "5:30am," he simply nodded and said, "Hmm." Surreal as it was, and although the focus on finishing was great, I recognized the importance for me to contemplate the magnitude of the accomplishment, because I knew the finish line would be a whirlwind, and after 15+ hours on the trail, it passes by in a heartbeat.

Feeling the finish line, I offered up great thanks. This day truly was a gift. I was perplexed that I had just run 52.1 miles, and really just wanted pizza. Heading off the road onto the gravel trail that leads down behind the resort to the finish line, a number of spectators watched from the balconies of their rooms, shining their headlamps onto the runners and cheering them on. I felt one last burst with their cheers and picked up the pace, running as best as I could. The announcer introduced me just as I came around the back side of the building when at the same time I heard, "Matt, is that you?" Anna and her family were sitting there waiting and seemed totally shocked that I was coming in so soon. My mother-in-law Nancy squealed with excitement as I rounded the pool and crossed the line, fist pumping above my head.

John Stohrkamp presented me with my finishers "medal," and I thanked him sincerely with a two-handed handshake. Official time: 15:38:51. Then suddenly, Chad's friend Andy appeared in front of me to offer his congratulations and send along congratulations from Chad, who finished more than 30 minutes ahead of me which couldn't have made me happier. It took a minute for my family to get over to the finish line, as they truly hadn't expected me to arrive so early. Who would have? The previous 5.5 mile section took me 2hrs20min, and this 7.1 mile section took me a hair under two hours. How's that for a revival?

Couldn't have done it without my awesome crew and cheer team!

Suddenly it all hit me. I had accomplished my goal of three years - to run 50 miles in a day. Now, I can't truly say I ran 50 miles, but all things considered, I raced 50 miles no matter what my pace. It was surprising for me to hear that of the 185 runners who started earlier that morning, only 107 finished. In that light, I suppose I reached my ultimate goal of finishing in the top half. It wouldn't have been possible, however, without my wife and family to help me along. I can't thank them enough for urging me on through the moments of doubt and suffering, because the feeling of finishing did make it all worth it in the end. Hanging out at the finish line, drinking my post-race recovery beverage, I felt the life come back into me; even my vision seemed clearer. Taking off my shoes has never felt so good, and to top it all off, my in-laws showed up to the finish line with pizza! Although I would have liked to hang out at the finish line and take it all in for a while, I was getting cold and wanted to relax on a soft chair and feast on my reward, so we headed back to the motel.

On the walk back to the motel, the question was posed to me if I would ever do this again. My immediate reaction was to say no, and with perfect timing, a guy in front of us said, "Give it two weeks." Now that it's been only a week, I already feel that I must do this again, to redeem myself a little, to be able to run this course sustainably and finish well. In the meantime, however, I'm not in a hurry to do so, and I'll be happy with my finish regardless. Now is the time to drink beer and eat whatever the hell I want!

Cheers!

GRADES

Fitness - C+

Although I had the ability to finish this race, including some impressive uphill power-hiking, the knee injury clearly showed how weak I am. I spent way too much time on metabolic efficiency and not enough on core strength. It showed greatly.

Mental Toughness - B?

Tough to judge. For the majority of the day, I had a clear and determined mind, and even when I was bored and hurting, I was mostly able to continue on. From Sawbill to Oberg would be the exception, and without my family, the outcome may have been different.

Pacing - B+

Without a heart rate monitor, I feel that I was at a decent pace. The 50km last May was my benchmark, and I ran that whole race between 150-170bpm. I'm sure I went too fast in a few parts this time, and I wonder how much longer I could have run if I had started much slower, but I think the knee would have blown regardless.

Nutrition/Hydration - A

After only a few races I feel that I have dialed in my nutrition and hydration: half a gel twice an hour, one S!Cap an hour starting 1.5 hrs in, drinking to thirst, and one cup of Heed at each aid station and a piece of banana when I felt necessary.

Mechanics - C-
Although I attribute my injury to core/trunk weakness, I'm sure that in turn affected my mechanics. I felt great when I was running, but the photos that I've seen so far show me hunching over more than I would like. The low grade is because of the injury.

Joy - B+

Clearly the last half of the race presented challenges, but I feel that I was thankful and positive for most of the day. It was truly a gorgeous day and an honest gift. Even when I was suffering, I was able to recognize that.

More information on this race - http://fall.superiortrailrace.com/

Previous race reports for this course on this blog - 25km, Marathon

Parting shot.

Superior Trail Races Moose Mountain Marathon

2013-09-16T20:35:00.001-07:00

Sam's Rules of Life:
1. Never give up.
2. See Rule #1
3. Don't be a bi***
4. Pay attention
5. It's probably your fault (different from his official post, but certainly discussed as Rule 5)

Mile 18. Stabbing lateral pain in the left knee. "I remember this pain!" Reminiscent of an attempted 18-miler in June when at mile 15 the same thing happened. Sudden searing pain in the knee, forcing me to walk/hobble the final three miles back to my car. Back then I blamed the brutally rocky terrain of the backside of Bass Lake, along with my desire to run farther than I probably should have at that point in my training. It was a failure to observe Rules 4 and 5.

These rules came back to me again at my first ever marathon, set dramatically against the backdrop of Lake Superior, high above in the forest along the Superior Hiking Trail on a beautifully sunny day. Going into the race, I truly had no idea if I was really ready. Allow me to explain.

Five months earlier. Since recovering from yet another foot ailment in April and adding my first DNS to my record with the Superior Trial Races 50k in May, I signed up for the marathon as part of the fall series of the same race with five months to get myself back in order. No problem! I would have the summer off completely and would be living in Ely, MN, with Superior National Forest and the BWCA as my training grounds. With no other obligations, I could focus on doing it right. Eat well, get plenty of sleep, and train smart.

And that happened...until around the end of July. I had some amazing runs in the early summer, with cool temps in the Great Northwoods and plenty of shade from the dense, rapidly growing forest. Aside from the previously mentioned ugly run, I was progressing nicely and feeling awesome. I even had the chance to run in the mountains of California and participate in my first ever mountain race (detailed in my last post). Upon returning from California and talking a lot with my "running Jefe" Joe, I decided to change my focus in a big way that - theoretically and with all hope - would yield greater gains than the way I was currently training. In one word - Maffetone. I started Maffetone training with a heart rate monitor, a method that I wanted to detail more before writing this post, but haven't had the time for it, so perhaps I'll go back to it later and describe it in more detail for those who are interested. The short and sweet of it is that I wore a heart rate monitor for every run starting in mid-July, and would not run any faster than my pre-determined maximum aerobic function heart rate, which is 144bpm. This is to stimulate and improve aerobic function and avoid going anaerobic, a function that more heavily leads to injury and muscle imbalance. As it happens for many people, this slowed me waaaaaay down. I'm comfortable at a sub-8:00 mile pace for long distances, and now I couldn't go faster than 10:30 miles at that heart rate. I realized that my aerobic function was truly awful, and that I've been running in an anaerobic state for a huge chunk of my life and for most all runs. The number of injuries I've had is a big indicator of this.

In any case, this training slowed me down and did not allow me to do much strength or speed training. I just ran slowly, trying to improve my pace at the same heart rate over the weeks following. It's a slow process, but I was seeing progress. My mechanics were also a little messed up, because it's hard for me to run at that slower pace with good form. Then, at the start of August, a few things got in the way. I went to North Carolina for two weeks to visit a good friend, and the running was sporadic at best, and nothing more than about four miles, although I did do a run on the Appalachian Trail and my longest fully barefoot run along the beach at the Outer Banks. Nonetheless, I didn't feel it was enough. Upon returning, the heat cranked up here and the stress of the impending school year wreaked havoc with my heart rate, slowing me back down to where I started mid-July. With not a single run that was even moderately fast, nor on truly technical terrain, I couldn't say if this race - arguably the most rugged marathon in the country - would make or break me.

Race weekend. After an extremely stressful first week of school, I headed north early Friday afternoon, arriving just in time to catch friend Sam Jurek at an aid station during the 100-miler, unfortunately only to see him drop due to several legitimate factors (still love and respect you, brother). I joined my wife at the Mountain Inn and we had a relaxing evening, and finally the stress was wearing off. Unfortunately, Negative Factor #1 appeared - my allergies had kicked in full blast, now, the afternoon before the race, without any time to get them under control. That night, I couldn't breathe a single breath through my nose, and the "sleep" I got was really only a poor excuse for the real thing. I woke up with a terribly scratchy throat along with completely plugged sinuses. Super.

The first of three alarms went off at 5am. Thankfully we were both up right away and didn't need the other two. My hyper-organizational German side was a godsend on this morning, because I had laid out everything the night before. I need only eat, suit up, and go. We were out the door by 6:15 to catch the shuttle to the start, meeting up with Anna's friend Liz, who was also running the race. Negative Factor #2 - It was already quite warm, but even worse was the extreme humidity! The air hung heavy in the clear, calm morning sky, threatening to smack you in the face like a hot, wet towel. Once I was finally on the bus, however, I was relaxed and ready. We arrived at the start with at least a good 45 minutes before go time, but it was good to have time to relax, warm-up a bit, and pee about five hundred times. A few of the hundred-milers came through while we were waiting, which heightened the mood all around.

The Start - Does my heart rate not realize how flat this is?
The start was a bit strange, heading out on the road, running in the opposite direction of the trail, then looping back onto the trail and crossing the road again at the AS. The transition from road to trail left us standing and waiting while everyone funneled onto the trail single-file, and since I was toward the back, I ended up walking for quite a bit until the trail opened up a little to pass. I was, however, none too eager to pass too quickly, for I had a plan. I took some good advice: give myself the first half hour or so to get my heart rate under control but not to exceed 150bpm, then stay at my MAF rate of 144 for the first half, and then "let 'er rip" on the second half. This was easier said than done. With the humidity, heat, and allergies, I had trouble keeping my heart rate below 150 when walking briskly! The start of the race is even the easiest part, with flat, fast singletrack for at least the first three miles. Needless to say I was concerned, but stayed focused. I gave in to walking briskly to maintain my heart rate, admitting that finishing was much more important than not walking. The benefit to sticking to my heart rate plan was that I got to run with Anna and Liz for quite a while, and they were even getting ahead of me at times. It's always nice to have people to run with, and I think it helped me relax a bit as well.

The first seven miles is quite flat, and is also the most open part of the course. Hitting the bright morning sun was already a bit zapping, and I regretted having no visor nor sunglasses, but knew it wouldn't be long before I would be happy to not have to carry them. Soon enough, the course drops down to the Cross River, whose beauty surprises you when suddenly arriving at its dramatic, rocky stature with swift yet elegant waters. Here the trail skirts very close to the river for quite some time, offering glistening sunlit water with its calming white noise. I think this was one of the most enjoyable parts of the race for me. It was cool and well-shaded, with a spectacular view that joins you along your travels.

Climbing up and away from the river, it's not long before the trail takes a steep and continued descent into the Temperance River AS. If you're not paying attention, you might just run right into the table there, as the station is tucked tightly between the woods and the road, which seems more like a wide access trail than a road. A friendly and efficient volunteer refilled my Camelbak while it was still on my back, and I grabbed some fuel. I only had one gel in the first section and was feeling hungry. A banana with peanut butter, a square of PB&J, some Heed and ginger ale, and a few potato chips and I was ready. Anna and Liz had arrived just after me, but were taking a potty stop, so I went on ahead. It was slow moving with all that in my stomach, but I knew it would pay off later.

Carlton Peak - Never before have I so wished for cold lemonade!
Magnificently scenic river #2 - Temperance. It was almost deja vu, skirting the edge of yet another gorgeous river, but this time, it was bigger and more dramatic. The trail actually heads out onto the rocks before folding back into the woods, and here is where I spotted a hundred-miler soaking in the water to cool off. The idea was tempting, but I kept moving, even though it was feeling a lot hotter by now. Crossing to the other side and heading back up away from the highway, I decided that some cool water would do me good. I found a spot where the river was most quickly accessed and splashed some water on my neck and head, not really noticing the family there enjoying the landscape, even though I was about three feet from one of the kids. I'm sure there were some strange looks, but I moved on, focused on my task. It was here that things got much more difficult.

The Superior Trail Race series is touted as one of the most rugged in the country, and I'm sure people from places like Colorado or California where the mountains are real mountains would scoff at such a claim, but they haven't been on this trail, nor have they climbed from Temperance River to the top of Carlton Peak. In about a three-mile stretch, the trail climbs from 600 feet above sea level to 1500 feet, varying between root-gnarled trail, gravel, and exposed jagged granite. Although there's no serious altitude to deal with, it is nonetheless as challenging as some of the climbs I've done in Colorado. Running was absolutely out of the question, and here is where I had to let my heart rate jump to 170. I had managed the first section mostly below 150, and was trying to stick to an increase of 10bpm with each section, but here is where that fell apart. Pace did not matter; I could have taken a step every 30 seconds, and I still would have been at 168, so I went with it. Liz had caught up to me at the start of the climb, so we at least had some good conversation to take our minds off of the daunting climb. The top section, albeit strenuous and challenging, is incredible. It becomes almost a scramble out on granite boulders, entering a vertical zone of fissures, cracks, and aretes above that loom with cool, ancient graces. I was picking out my vertical lines as I passed, remembering it for future climbing exploration. Finally we hit the summit and rolled back down again, and I felt good. I let 'er rip on the down and my heart rate played along. I also observed here that running a steady pace actually helped keep my heart rate down as opposed to walking! Strange, but the steady movement with feet underneath me seemed to control my heart rate better than plodding along with bigger steps requiring more muscle recruitment. Mental note for the future. It was simply good to finally have some speed.

Having some sweet, fast downhill was a godsend, and it was like this almost the entire way to the next aid station, aside from a climb toward the end, where the trail heads out into open skies, and yet still feels tight with thick, wetland vegetation that's just a bit over head height. Liz and I caught up to a guy and we all ran in to the aid station together. Sawbill is a cool spot and it's also where I volunteered last fall to get a taste of what this series is all about. The Immerfall family runs this AS and has been doing it since the race's inception nearly (or more than?) 20 years ago. It was fun to see some familiar faces, and wasn't surprised in the least to see one of them offering cold showers from a hose hooked up to the water there. I declined the shower, but got some snacks and was on my way. Liz stuck around to deal with some hotspots that were becoming blisters.

The Sneaking Snake of "Schnell!"
Although I had never run this third section before, I remember the Immerfalls and several other runners saying that the section from Sawbill to Oberg is rolling and easy, comparatively speaking. I was excited to see if that was true, and finally speed up a little, since I was now past the half-way mark. No craziness at this point, but faster and measured at or below 170bpm. It was actually quite easy, because all of the beta I received on this section was correct. It's a thoroughly enjoyable 5.7 miles of rolling, wooded trail, cool in the shade with soft, peaty soil underfoot. It was hard not opening up completely and blazing this section, but because I'm very familiar with the last section, I knew I had to keep plenty in the tank. There *may* have been a short stint at the start of this section where I ran faster than I should have, but no one needs to know that. Needless to say, I enjoyed it thoroughly. I came upon the woman I had started behind, knowing this because I recognized her shoes. She had the same shoes as my wife, so we chatted as we rolled, and the conversation helped keep things relaxed. I was in no hurry to pass her, and in any case, she had a solid pace going. Secretly, I added a sub-goal to make sure I passed her before the finish, which I figured would be a decent challenge. She looked fresh and was moving swiftly and consistently.

Negative Factor #3 - With about a mile to go before Oberg AS, it happened. (Insert sharp, echoing metallic sound here) Suddenly and without warning, I felt a stabbing pain in the outside of my left knee. It forced instant hobbling until I could slow down and walk a few steps. My IT band had been getting tighter and more sore in the previous few miles, and it finally decided to take out its anger on my knee. This was a familiar sign that I was: a) running too hard after so many miles, and b) I had not been paying enough attention to my mechanics, or had simply lost my reference point for what is efficient after significant muscle weakening. Rule #4 broken and rule #5 in full admittance. I was now in new territory, having run farther than I ever have before in my life. I can't say I was surprised, but damn it hurt! I managed to keep running in to the aid station, keeping my form together as best as possible as I came out of the woods to a crowd of spectators, including Sam's mom and her entourage. I smiled and waved and didn't stop until I reached the aid station. As soon as I stopped, my knee started improving, so I did some mini-stretches as I drank my Heed. At this point I made eye contact with a fellow AS volunteer from last year who was helping out again, and we struck up a conversation. It was fun to run into someone I knew, and he was excited to tell me about his return to running after double knee surgery last year. A cool story indeed, as he was told he'd never run again. Although I enjoyed the conversation, I was itching to go, and it was hard to break away from his excited news, but I politely wished him well and mentioned that we would certainly run into each other in the future, and made my way out for the last stretch.

The Long Lonely Road of Loneliness
With my knee situation and familiarity of the last section of the course from the last two years of doing the 25km in the spring, I knew this would be my greatest challenge yet. The final section is by far the toughest, with two gutbusting climbs up Moose and Mystery mountains, respectively, the first of which climbs 600 feet in about three miles, and the latter which drags on and on in a neverending sea of switchbacks, reminding me of the movie "Labyrinth", sans David Bowie and his unsightly codpiece. I must have walked a good mile before I tried running again, which was touch-and-go at best. I could run perhaps a few minutes before the pain increased enough to force me back to walking. The steep climb up Moose was actually quite welcome, as it gave me license to hike, and since my knee didn't hurt when walking or going uphill, I made some decent time and passed a few people, including the woman I ran with earlier and vowed to pass. I thought she might duck in behind me and follow me up, but suddenly I was alone, and would be so for the majority of this last section.

When listening to people talk about running marathons, many - if not most - talk about hitting "the wall." I can now say from personal experience that this is a very real thing. Although avoidable in most cases, it seems to overtake many people around mile 21 or so, perhaps because this is new territory for those following traditional training plans who run only a maximum of 20 miles for their longest long run. I was well into this territory, and was happy to have made it this far, but around mile 21, my mental state took a faceplant, and I entered a sufferfest. Had I been smart and fueled better at the top of Moose, I might have avoided it, but alas, my brain was too preoccupied with my knee and how to overcome my mechanics problem. For about two or three miles, I plodded along, lamenting that I could not run, as it would extend my time on the course even more, when I just wanted to be done! The finish line seemed to get farther and farther away, and it was hard to see my goal time vanish as if it were a dream all along. While climbing the neverending switchbacks on Mystery mountain, a hundred-miler came upon me rather quickly, patted me on the back and asked how it was going. I remember feeling a bit confused and astonished at how peppy he was, as if he had just hiked out a mile or two to see runners and then jaunt back for a latté and scone. We wished each other well, and he took off running up the trail. He is the only person I have ever seen run that section of the trail. I'm still not sure he exists. He very well could have been a figment of my suffering imagination. In any case, it was a much needed interaction.

Hitting the top of Mystery, I pulled myself out of Megaslump and decided that I had been on course long enough. Walking was no longer an option, and I didn't care how much it would hurt; I was gonna run that finish down if it killed me! Strangely, once I made this decision and started running, the pain became constant which made it entirely manageable. A swifter pace also allowed better mechanics, which helped a good bit too. All I wanted now was to see the campsites - the greatest landmark in the whole race for me, signaling the near exit of the Superior Hiking Trail and the rushing Poplar River at the bottom of the hill, leading out to the final stretch. It took much longer than I had hoped, but finally the small wooden sign appeared with blue paint identifying the campsite. I took off! The downhill from there can get scary if you don't control your speed, and after 20+ miles my legs were a little wobbly. I stumbled at least once, but not enough to throw me down. Making a sharp right turn out onto the access trail, I let gravity do the work and flew down the trail, passing one runner who I thought might have been the hundred-miler I saw earlier, but didn't have the same pep in his step. At the bottom of the hill, I looked at my watch and my pulse had hit 200! "Holy cow, I need to slow down!" Although this is the final stretch of trail, there's still a section of gravel road and paved road that are much longer than they should be, and definitely sort the wheat from the chaff, so to speak.

Crossing over the Poplar and taking a quick glimpse to the side to enjoy its splendor, I made my way up the gravel road to where it evens out, and settled in to a swift, yet manageable pace. I passed a hundred-miler with what sounded like a South African accent and his entourage of pacers bringing him in, along with a "tagalong" marathoner who was walking with them and was complaining about her knee. Before I passed them, she had asked how far the finish was, and the guy said, "Oh, it's just up there." Now, when you ask a hundred-miler how far something is, be mindful of his perspective! She exclaimed, "Ok, I got this," and started chuckin down the road at what I would call a sprint. Her long bounds, along with what looked like a heavy Camelbak pack on her back made me cringe just a little. Shortly before I reached her, she let out a gasp, an "Oh my god!" and stopped. As I ran by, I encouraged her to settle in to an easy pace with short steps and come with me. When she asked me where the finish was, my retort of, "Oh, about a quarter mile, it's not far," was not what she wanted to hear. She ran a few more steps and then resorted to walking. Hey, I tried.

The pavement always hurts in this race, but since I was already in pain, it seemed to go faster than the previous two races (which were only 25km). I hit the gravel path leading down to the final stretch and kicked it in with as much composure and as big a smile as possible. Done! And it only took me seven hours and ten minutes! Not a very impressive time for a marathon, but all things considered, I was pleased with how it went. In cases like this, I'm ok with a sub-par performance, because it gives me more reason to do it again and improve. It was also pleasing that my greatest fear - that my stomach would go south as often happens when I exercise with allergies - did not come to fruition.

Liz finished about thirty minutes behind me, and we hung out and ate snacks waiting for Anna to come in. Because Anna's training was "a little scant," I honestly had no idea when she would arrive, but had a good hunch that she wouldn't be too far behind. She arrived at eight hours and thirty minutes, smiling and running smoothly. Impressed is an understatement to describe my thoughts. For having run her longest long run at ten miles a month or more before the race, and then only two to four miles a few times a week, I must admit that she's more of a badass than I. All in all, it was a fabulous day with feelings of success all around, followed by a soak in the hot tub and dinner with Sam and his fam.

Anna and I post race, pre-hot tub.

Would I do it again? In a heartbeat. I LOVE this course, and the RD John Stohrkamp organizes a helluvan event. I'd like to throw out a huge personal THANK YOU to the all of the volunteers who make this possible. They were all super friendly and eager to help. My ultimate goal would be to do the 50-mile next year, but after a 7+ hour finish for the marathon, I'm not sure I want to spend 14+ hours on the trail, even with the love I have for it. We'll see what the next year brings. On that note, I'll post the elevation chart for your enjoyment, which includes all three races. Check it out.

GRADES
Fitness - B?
Clearly I knew that my aerobic fitness was crap since starting Maffetone training in July, but it had been so my whole life, so that would be less positive in this category, but I had no idea how my legs, core, and feet would hold up. Other than my knee, I felt good for most of the race, and my feet gave me no trouble at all in my Merrell Trail Gloves. My lower back did get sore, signaling that my core needs work. Had I been running faster, this may have been a different story.

Mental Toughness - C+
I would say that I was solid - and following Sam's rules 1-3 - for the whole race until I hit the wall. This grade carries over into hydration/nutrition as well, as I think that was partially to blame for my dark times. I let myself walk too much and for too long.

Pacing - A-
I followed my plan to the best of my ability. The Trail Runner Nation podcast I listened to on the way up helped a ton with a new mantra: "Plan to flow, and flow when it doesn't go according to plan." I started conservatively and increased pace as I moved on, adjusting my plan based on what my heart rate was doing. Had my knee not gone out, I would have had a stellar finish.

Nutrition/Hydration - B+
I don't feel like the problems I had were food or hydration related until the last section. I didn't take enough water at the last AS and was more thirsty than previously in the race, and I should have fueled sooner before I hit the wall.

Mechanics - D
If for no other reason than my knee injury. Clearly I wasn't balanced left to right, and my IT band took the brunt of it, leading to the knee being pulled out of whack. Due to my allergies and perhaps also the Camelback (although the Camelbak has never given me trouble before), I had horribly tight shoulders and neck, threatening a terrible headache, which thankfully never came. I'm sure this forced my shoulders up, head forward, and form to suffer.

Now only eight months until the spring series! Until then, here's your parting shot.

Marathon feet, complete with unofficial trail swag.

CA Trip and Western States 2013 Crew Report

2013-08-23T14:51:00.000-07:00

After two long years (and two months after the race), I'm finally able to write an official post about my experience at the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run, my second go around as a crew member. It's hard to know where to start, except to say that this race has a special place in my heart. It's what inspired me to start running more - particularly on trails, eating better, training smarter, and to start this blog. To thank for this is Olive Oil Joe Uhan, good friend and talented athlete. I've always believed that we all need inspiration from flesh and blood people aka otherwise "normal" people who do great things. I found not only inspiration in Joe's first finish back in 2011, but in the community of amazing people that this race draws. This post recounts my experience, but if you're interested in hearing it straight from the runner, check out Joe's race report here.

**WARNING** This might be my most epic post ever, so grab some snacks and a few beers (or beverage of choice) and settle in for the long haul.

My experience this year was markedly different from 2011 for myriad reasons: a different mix of people, different outcome, and the chance to spend more time with Joe both before and after the race. I flew in to Sacramento a full week before the race and had a wonderfully relaxed build-up to race day, opposed to organized chaos in 2011 marked by a bilateral inguinal hernia that I ruptured on my flight to Sacramento, all of which was endearingly referred to back then as a "clusterf*** of awesomeness." Here's the rundown of my week+ with some of the highlights from this year.

After visiting my good friends in Folsom for a few days, I drove my white Nissan Versa rental up to South Lake Tahoe to stay with Joe and his "other running half" Jacob Rydman in a small rental house they acquired to chill out and acclimate themselves to the altitude. It didn't look like much from the outside, but was plenty comfy for the three of us, and sported some "flat, money singletrak" out back at the end of the road just a few blocks away, where we got in some good easy runs to stay loose. Extended hangout time with nothing on the docket was pretty sweet, as I don't get that much anymore with Joe, and it was cool getting to know Jake, a soft-spoken badass with a bright running future ahead of him. The days were spent chilling out with episodes of Seinfeld, Arrested Development, some old school rap gems, and an original Nintendo complete with Mike Tyson's Punch Out. We also managed to snag some sauna time for heat training at the local gym, and included some drills each day to stay loose. I shouldn't really be using "we" so much here, as they were the ones doing the heat training and staying loose for the race, and I was just lucky to tag along. Other than that, we had a lot of good food, including the largest salad I've ever eaten.

The proper start to any CA trip - In N Out Burger.

Wednesday, June 26th - First Official Run in the Mountains!

The first real highlight of my trip was my long run in the Desolation Wilderness above Emerald Bay on the west side of Lake Tahoe. I needed to get in some good miles to keep with my training for the Moose Mountain Marathon in September, and thanks to Jake's recommendation, I now have another run to add to my list of top runs all time. Starting at Bayview Trailhead (which I passed in the car 3 times like an idiot), I checked out the map and decided to head up and around Upper Velma Lake. It looked like about the right distance to do in about 3 hours, calculating 15 minute miles with all the climbing. Noting the necessary trail junctions and turns in my head, as I didn't have a map to take with me, I set off for a new adventure.

The trail starts by climbing about 800' in the first 3/4 mile up forested switchbacks, giving way to peeks of Lake Tahoe along the way and providing absolutely no warm-up at all. It was a brutal start to try and keep a steady pace, but I was determined and invigorated. Passing Granite Lake along the way, I made a mental note to plan on a swim on the way down if so inclined.

The phenomenal view of Emerald Bay from the switchbacks.

Higher up the trail with a view of Granite Lake.

From the top of the climb, it evened out a little and headed away from the lake further into the wilderness, climbing and descending until leaving the forest and heading down the mountain on the backside, often taking some effort to find the trail. The view of the canyon and the mountains on the far side was spectacular, with the familiar scent of granite, coniferous scrub and mountain dirt rising from the warm summer air. It's a scent I recognize instantly and love unconditionally. It has become the trademark of my summer travels.

After the first two trail junctions and feeling confident that I was on the right track, things got trickier. I finally reached the edge of Upper Velma and hit rushing river, too deep and too swift to cross safely on my own.


With people - no problem. Alone? Not so much.

Thankfully, after poking around a bit, I found a nice makeshift bridge across and was on my way.

Thanks to those who came before me.

The trail was sweet, flat, and fast from here, leading to the base of the mountain, where the forest once again turned to solid granite, making the trail extremely difficult to find. It led to yet another "water hazard," but this time with no discernible crossing. I spent about 10 minutes searching for a way across until a hiker who I had come upon at the previous crossing caught up to me. She and I worked together to find a way across, finally choosing to take off our shoes and "ford the river" at the edge of the lake where the water was much calmer. Everything seemed golden from there, except that we couldn't find the trail. With the way the smaller granite chunks had tumbled down the mountain, everything looked like marked trail. We spent almost a good hour with this whole ordeal, until finally we decided it would be better to just turn back. I was a little disappointed, but this was turning out to be great feet time in any case, and I wanted to get back to running and end the route finding. The way back was good, but I was finally getting low on energy. The sun had been baking me all day, and I needed more than just gels to fuel me. The climb back up the mountain was slow, but my mental state remained positive. Once I hit the final section of switchbacks, I flew down at an almost scary pace, making it to the car at almost exactly 4 hours on trail, only 2.5 of which was actual running. It was at this point when I realized that the decision to turn around was wise, because I had remembered the map wrong and turned off too soon onto a dead-end trail. All that searching for nothing! Here's the map in case you're interested. I just did the red section to Upper Velma and back, totaling about 10.5 miles.

My route - The red line from the east to the south point and back.

Altogether I was thoroughly pleased with my debut performance running in the mountains at altitude. The hiker that joined me in trying to find the way across the river had mentioned that she wanted to turn around because she'd been on trail for 3+ hours and it was getting late. I had made the same distance in an hour, which simply reinforced the reason that mountain running is so awesome. Naturally, running is faster than hiking, but to cover so much distance so quickly in an otherwise desolate place that normally requires a big pack and a ton of gear is just a cool feeling. It also gave me a lot more respect for the ultrarunners who do this for 100 miles!

On to Squaw Valley!
After lunch Thursday we made our way north to the majestic start of it all - idyllic Squaw Valley, home of the 1960 Olympics. The drive up the west side of Lake Tahoe was gorgeous, and for the first time I was actually able to see the lake at water level. Now I know exactly what the bumper stickers "Keep Tahoe Blue" really mean. Turning away from the lake, Squaw Valley appeared in no time, and the excitement mounted.

Trivia of the Day - Walt Disney was the MC for the Olympic games here, and after seeing the unique rock formations on the mountain, he sent surveyors on horseback to sketch it all out, later using it as the basis for Thunder Mountain at Disneyland.

In 2011 I was gung-ho to participate in all of the clinics and festivities to take it all in. Unfortunately, I arrived after the crew meeting had started, but Joe assured me that I was now old hat and didn't need to go. It's always fun to get a taste of "Tropical John" Medinger up close, but there were other things to take care of. I found Jake in the parking lot and we went in to check out the free lodging that Jake's pacer Connor had connected us with through team Salomon. Apparently, Connor had been given a suite to himself by Salomon and had tons of room for us, thereby allowing us to cancel the rooms in Truckee and stay closer for free. As soon as we walked in, I felt immediately uneasy. There were people everywhere, including Salomon's best ultrarunners. I felt eyes all over me and could almost hear "Who the **** are you?" from behind them. I told Jake I was gonna head out and connect with Adam, one of Joe's pacers who had just arrived, and left quickly. Not my idea of tons of space, and even if it was free, I was definitely uncomfortable staying there. Thankfully, Connor said that there was another suite that he was switching to, that definitely had more space. Adam and I went to find it - suite 405 - and for some reason, 405 was the only number not on the fourth floor of this building! It was odd, but as we were looking up and down the hall, Jake called and said he had run into some of the Injinji guys (his sponsor), and they invited us to stay with them at their rental house just a little ways down the road, guaranteeing us plenty of open beds and a cozy space to hang out. I was in. We drove out there and it was incredible! A beautiful house with ample space and plenty of beds for us all. It was here at the table where Joe and Jake tackled their final gear needs, namely the creation of some sexy sleeveless cutoff tees ala Scott Jurek, mutilating their Lake Sonoma 50 race shirts for a good cause. Jake was rather liberal with his, cutting it off to just below the nipples, which I think is illegal in some states, but he does have the abs for it.


Like a 60's James Bond film.

A great place to crash, especially for watching Runaway Train to get psyched.

Back to Squaw for the veterans panel discussion. There was a great deal of confusion as to where this was happening, and no one really seemed to know. I was told by several people that it was in the conference room of the Squaw Valley Lodge, where it had been in previous years, but when I arrived there, a couple of guys were just hanging out chatting, and there was no evidence of a panel discussion happening. Joining a crew of others who were also looking for it, including the likes of 2012 Montrail Ultra Cup winner Denise Bourassa, we finally figured out that it was a short hike over to the Olympic Valley Lodge conference room, a much bigger space than the previously-used one, and for good reason. This year's panel was jam packed with veteran goodness: Ellie Greenwood (winner from previous two years and women's course record holder), Tim Twietmeyer (25-time finisher and 5-time winner), Ann Trason (14-time winner), and Gordy Ainsleigh (the guy who started it all in 1974). It was truly an historical event to witness, and if you're interested, you can watch it here.

Although I had missed the feeling of community at the clinics during the day, I got my fill hanging out with the OOJ posse over dinner and gear sorting at the suite where Joe's mom Meredith was staying. An exceptional group of people to be sure, and it was a good way for us all to get to know each other better. The evening wrapped up with a quality showing of Runaway Train (spoiler link) back at the Injinji house, a film that for some reason caught Joe's interest in a big way. Who doesn't like Jon Voight?

Friday, June 28th - First Mountain Race Ever!

Coming off of my mountain run high from Wednesday, I was totally stoked to take part in the Montrail 6k Uphill Challenge, a new tradition the day before the race, where pacers, crew, and anyone else can register for free to race up the mountain to High Camp. It's a way to experience the start of the race, and a great excuse for climbing the mountain instead of taking the gondola. It was HOT already at 10am, above 80 degrees. My ten minute warm-up was enough to drench me in sweat, so I was somewhat concerned about my ginger complexion on the open mountain. I met up with the illustrious Samuel Jurek and we jawed a bit pre-race until the proverbial gun went off. I took off conservatively and worked my way up, running as much as possible with small steps. It was an excellent challenge, and a ton of fun, until we came to a new section that was covered with mulch! Due to construction next to the standard start area, a new start was used which added 200m or so, thereby taking off 200m up the mountain by adding a short steep climb up a nasty section of mulch instead of winding up on the jeep road. Ugh! By this point, however, I was managing to pass people and not be passed by anyone else. I even managed to sprint the last climb up to the finish with a time of 42:43. Sam's GPS watch had clocked in 2.8 miles instead of a full 6km, but either way, I was happy with my performance. I got my free Mountain Hardware water bottle and Gu Brew at the top and took in the view for a while before heading down on the gondola.

Racers on the final climb.


Sam and I at High Camp. Photo Samuel Jurek

Getting cleaned up and fed left me just enough time to get to the official pre-race meeting, also in a new location this year and primarily in the brain-baking sun! The highlight was seeing Joe up with the rest of the top 10 from last year, placed amongst a group of elites that he has worked so hard to be a part of.

Photo Jacques Dehnbostel

The pre-race meeting led into the team OOJ pre-race meeting back at Meredith's suite. Joe was incredibly relaxed, drinking Hefeweizen from a Pyrex measuring cup, explaining to us that he's learned a lot in the past two years, was ready, and was going for the win. Words were unnecessary to see how much love Joe has for this race, but he expressed himself quite elegantly with the sentiment that this race has become another family to him, and the course almost like a love interest that one must properly and thoughtfully prove himself (or herself) to. The energy in the room was electric, and I was amped. Joe said many times that waiting around for the race to begin was excruciating; he just wanted to get on with it, not in a nervous way, but in a way that most people can't wait for vacation to start.

All beer should be drunk from its appropriate glassware.

After dinner, Sam and I had talked about a viewing of Unbreakable, the 2011 WS documentary. I thought Joe had his copy with him that I could borrow, but alas, the copy I saw in Tahoe was Jake's. I went out to the WS store area to see if the tent for the film was still there, but everything was cleaned up and all the tents were gone. I spotted the Journey Films van and a couple people still packing up, so I approached them and asked if they had any copies left and voila! I had just enough cash on me to score a copy. Sam, James (fellow OOJ crew member and friend), and I met up at the gelato shop in the Village, grabbed a delicious treat, and joined Sam's runner David at his room for movie night. Thankfully, the film finished about 15 minutes before my planned bedtime, so James and I scurried back to the Injinji house to hit the hay and hopefully get some sleep before the 3:30am wake-up call. Upon entering my bunk room, who did I see standing before me but Dave Mackey, the "gentle giant" and elite ultrarunner. I was a bit surprised to see him there, but apparently he had just arrived at Squaw and was bunking with us for the night. I had the honor of having a "tooth party" with him, as my wife calls it, and as we were brushing our teeth next to each other, I mentioned that I had just seen him on the big screen, appearing in the documentary because he was Geoff Roes' pacer. With toothbrush still in mouth he muttered, "Oh, I haven't even seen that yet. That's when I got dropped." Good conversation, albeit short. It was only after this that the other guys informed me that Dave had taken the mattress off the top bunk and was apparently sleeping in the closet down the hall. Everyone has their own pre-race routine I guess.

Race Day - Highs and Lows (Not just heat and blood sugar, respectively)

My watch alarm was not as annoying as I thought it might be when it started beeping at 3:30am. The velvety richness of the early morning darkness, speckled with crackling white stars, whisked in crisp mountain air from the open window, awakening my senses and invigorating me for the day. I was up immediately and getting my act together. Having put all my ducks in a row the night before, I was up and out rather quickly, with plenty of time before the start, although not quick enough to take Joe to the start. I stopped in at Meredith's to see what was happening, and things were bustling there already. Joe and Jake were suited up and having their morning coffee, seeming relaxed but ready.

BGD, sans D, enjoying some early morning race fuel.

I walked to the starting area to catch the scene. Despite the throng of people and all the activity, it seemed exceptionally calm to me. Joe and Jake were off warming up, so I just chilled and took it all in. I love the start of this race, maybe because of the darkness, with only the warm glow of the ski hill lights, or just because it seems like a community of people all getting ready for a trip together. With about five minutes to go, everyone started lining up, and the elites took their position toeing the line, literally.

Joe with some last minute "stretchies" with a great view of Jake's fashion creation at left.

Just before the gun went off (yes, a shotgun is actually fired to start the race), Gordy Ainsleigh climbed the announcers ladder next to the start arch and offered this bit of advice via Winston Churchill during WWII: "When you're going through hell, keep going!"

Boom! Like a giant, wriggling caterpillar, the runners took off around the corner and up the hill en masse, and I got the impression that this year they were out a lot faster than in 2011, especially young stud Cameron Clayton, who - it seemed - thought he was only running to the Escarpment AS at the top of the mountain. That boy was practically sprinting!

I helped myself to a few bags of ice from Squaw Valley Lodge and James and I took off for Duncan Canyon AS, making a pit stop at the Safeway in Truckee for snacks and then in Auburn to downsize to one car. It was rather ridiculous, but because all of the crew members and pacers arrived at different times, we each had our own rental car. All in all, we probably should have stolen Adam's rental, a Dodge Charger. It would have been much more fun on the road to Duncan and Dusty.

The drive to Duncan Canyon via Mosquito Ridge Road is a true adventure: narrow, barely paved, and precariously winding along the mountainside. We were in a little bit of a hurry to make dead sure we made it on time to meet Joe, who we were expecting to be at the front of the pack. The drive was exciting and beautiful, with the sun inching up over the mountains. Upon pulling in to the AS, we found a Nissan Versa-sized parking spot and grabbed the necessary gear. The woman at the bottom of the trail who was in charge of parking patrol put us on edge with a comment that the first runners may have already come by! Being a slight bit fitter than James, I took the most important gear and hauled ass up the steep trail to make sure. Once I arrived, everyone was standing around looking almost bored. No runners had come by yet and it was going to be a while. Whew! The aid station was a fun place. Just above the actual station a makeshift stage had been set up, and there was a small bluegrass band playing tunes for people. They even had a microphone and speaker setup (running on a generator?) which they used to announce the incoming runners, cutely performed by a young girl. The AS itself was totally stocked! The turkey and spinach sandwiches looked especially tempting, even at 7:30 in the morning, but considering that my breakfast was at 4am, it was almost lunch time! A woman next to me struck up a conversation after noticing my crew shirt, mentioning that she knew Joe. It turned out to be ultrarunner Paul Terranova's wife Meredith. Paul went on to finish 8th with a stout performance.

Finally, we could hear commotion up the trail and the runners started appearing from the woods, bobbing down the hill into the aid station. Some looked rather frantic, some were relaxed, and a few seemed rather clueless as to which way they were supposed to go, which was especially strange because they were the old hat veterans of this race! Joe came down in about 12th place and we jumped out from behind the barrier tape to attend to him. He ignored us at first as he sought a scissors and some lube to deal with the seam piping under the arm of his shirt that he had neglected to cut off with the rest of the sleeve and was suffering from chafing because of it. After following him around and me saying "Joe, we're right here...Joe, right behind you...," he finally stopped and we got things moving. He tossed his heart rate monitor on the ground and said something to the effect of: "My heart rate has been at 170 the whole time, so this thing is useless." We gave him a fresh bottle and his ice bandanna, which James had overfilled "slightly," causing Joe to turn back as he was leaving and with a smug grin said, "maybe a little bit too much ice," dumping half of it out and tying it around his neck, all without breaking pace. James and I agreed that he looked awesome and hung out for a bit longer to see Jake come in and take in the front-of-the-pack excitement.

Photo shoot at Duncan Canyon to show off the spanky crew shirts.

On to Dusty Corners! We had made a mental mark on the drive out as to where the turn to Dusty would be. Turning onto the road, I paused to take a look at the sign and make sure, not realizing that there was a car right behind me. The guy put his hand out the window and waved me forward to assure me that we were on the right road. Narrow road became narrower and then turned to dry gravel, kicking up a plume of dust behind us. After a while, I noticed that the white car that was so impatiently following us was gone. Had I made a wrong turn? I stopped to see if he would soon reappear, which he did, only for me to realize that he had dropped back to avoid my dust cloud, and here I had put him right back in it like a total d-bag. Sorry! A few minutes later we were at Dusty Corners though, so it wasn't all bad. At this point I realized that the white car was Paul Terranova's crew, including his wife whom I had just talked with at Duncan.

We were quite early, so we grabbed some snacks and found some empty chairs under the crew tent, which was so nicely placed there by Doug the AS chief. It was a posh setup for crew, and I was certainly thankful for the shade. The pacer/crew duo for Meghan "The Queen" Arbogast joined us in no time, and we had a relaxing time with snacks and water to cool us off. The temp was already getting quite steamy by this point.

Once we heard that runners were approaching, we got up and crossed over to the side where most people had gathered to meet their runners. James headed up the hill to meet Joe early and get the skinny on what he might want or need. At this point, there had been a decent change-up of leaders, with Hal Koerner coming down first and Timmy Olson in a close second, moving up at least 4 spots if I remember correctly. Cam Clayton, who had took off in a blaze of glory at the start, came down in around 6th place, looking like death warmed over, complaining about something "popping" in his ankle and proclaiming that was going to drop, but try to continue a little further. In fine style, Jorge Maravilla came sailing down the hill, arms out airplane-style, weaving back and forth down the trail, high-fiving people as he passed. After all, it's all about looking good. So far, most of the runners did look good. As the time approached for Joe to arrive, Meredith Terranova came to me and asked me if we had anything to douse Joe with. I only had his dousing bottle for him to take with him, so she disappeared briefly and came back with an extra bottle that she had borrowed from someone so that we could douse Joe on the spot. That's one thoughtful gal! About the time she showed up with the bottle, Joe was coming down the hill, waving. Well, I thought he was waving, but once I looked at the photo I shot, it was clear that he was giving James directions as he passed, pertaining to his ice bandanna.

He had moved up several spots by this point, and looked awesome! He was in great spirits, and it was a total whirlwind as always, here and then gone. James and I were once again filled with excitement after this second contact with our guy, like a well-woven suspense story unfolding in front of you. The one quote that stuck with me when we were attending to him; "It's amazing what you can do when you keep your heart rate down!" It seemed that his initial plan was bearing fruit, so to speak.

Back to Foresthill. James and I braved the crazy mountain roads once more, damn near run off the gravel road by oncoming vehicles blazing at light speed to get to Dusty. We made it safely, however, and things at Foresthill were already picking up. Thankfully there was just enough space for us to park at the "Team OOJ tailgate party" and go grab lunch at Subway. Air conditioning never felt so good! Back at tailgate central, we chilled on a tarp and relaxed in the shade, and I remember thinking that it felt like a long time before any runners came through at all. People-watching also made for good entertainment, especially the eccentric local lady who kept coming up to pacers and crew and telling them that the runners are true American heroes, sometimes snapping pictures of whomever would let her. She also did her civic duty to prohibit people from parking next to the fire hydrant on the corner where she was posted. Just another thing that makes this race so awesome. I made my way up to the AS to check things out, and while visiting the restroom, I ran into a fellow Minnesotan who I had seen after the Uphill Challenge and at the start area. Small world. Eventually, however, runners started trickling in, with Timmy Olson now in the lead.

I feel like the runners were much closer together in 2011, because there were HUGE spans of time before runners came through at Foresthill this year, and reports from previous aid stations didn't seem to be updating regularly enough. Thankfully, there's still plenty of race left once you hit Foresthill, so I wasn't worried.

With at least five different people in our entourage checking every possible online resource, we eventually learned that Joe had checked in at Michigan Bluff and was taking a break to get his legs massaged there, after a long bout of cramping. In fact, iRunfar had posted a pic of him getting worked on, and his face was positive and seemingly relaxed, so it was quite a shock just a few minutes later when Brandie, Joe's sister, got a phone call and blurted out to us rather abruptly, "Joe dropped." Bewildering to be sure, as everything seemed to be going perfectly. After another phone call a few minutes later, we were reassured that Joe had dropped due to his cramping, and was getting a ride back to Foresthill from Connor (Jake's pacer), once he saw Jake come through.

It was a situation that everyone has experienced at least once, where the entire group of people around you goes silent and looks at the ground, as if the wind has sucked all the words out of each and every person's mouth. Then, after a short bout of silence, commentary starts to emerge to act as reassurance that everything is ok. Naturally, it's hard to handle a blow like that, especially because it just didn't make sense at the time, but surely there was a reason for it. This is a fact of ultrarunning - people drop for all sorts of reasons at every possible time, even when everything seems to be going well.

Joe finally showed up in Connor's black beast of a truck, stepping out slowly and stiffly, saying something to the effect of; "This isn't how I intended to roll in to Foresthill." Giving his mom a big hug, there was an apology for letting us all down and a few tears shed by several people. Not only was the DNF hard for him from a personal performance standpoint, but clearly he felt the added guilt of us coming all that way to support him and see him race, only for him to drop at mile 55. That sentiment, of course, was the last thing on all of our minds, and I for one was just happy to be there to help a friend and to experience Western States again. As Joe opened up a bit more, we learned that he had been cramping for the previous 20 miles before Michigan Bluff, and could barely walk, let alone run, once he left the AS. He made it about a mile out of the AS, turned back, tried one more time, and then turned back for good, doing the "walk of shame" back to Michigan Bluff to have his yellow wristband cut and officially drop. The fact that he ran 20 miles with severe quad cramps is badass enough that finishing the race seemed inconsequential to me. Most people would have quit after one mile of that nonsense.

A seemingly appropriate sign for the circumstances.

Now came the point of deciding what to do. Where do we go now? The first thing was to wait for Jake to come by, because although we weren't officially crewing for him, he was definitely still "our" runner, and when he came by, he looked decent - not happy, but decent. There was still hope for a quality finish for him, and so we cheered him on and wished him good luck when he passed.

The group split into different factions, some going back to the pool house in Auburn to swim and relax, Adam and James to head further down course to see what they could see, and I hung out with Joe for a bit in Foresthill, just taking it all in. I was happy to be his chauffeur and take him wherever he wanted to go. It was some good quality time, just he and I, and I think it was easier for him to reflect and voice certain concerns in a one-on-one setting, regardless of if it was with me or someone else. I gave him the other half of my Subway sandwich and after a while decided to head back to the motel to regroup a bit. It took a while for Joe to decide what he wanted to do. He was torn between going back to the pool house to relax and get away from everything, or to go to the finish as he knew he should, to see the top runners come in. I was thankful that he decided the latter.

We all met up at the Placer High School track and watched Timmy Olson win his second Western States in a row, only 30 minutes off of his course record from last year! To understand the gravity of this, one must consider the conditions. In 2012 the weather was very cool and rainy, making the typically smoldering, brain-baking canyons much easier to deal with and the race faster in general. He completed the race in 14:46, which is completely mind-blowing in and of itself. This year's weather was the complete opposite, with near-record heat and the canyons reaching 112 degrees or more! In years with extreme heat, the history shows that finishing times are at least 2-3 hours slower. Timmy Olson added only 31 minutes to his time. Beastmachine indeed.

Proceeding the finish, Timmy was interviewed at the finish line, only to be interrupted by Rob Krar, blazing around the track to finish second, having made up a huge amount of time in the last miles, but not quite enough to catch Tim. One interview turned into a double interview, adding an almost eloquent final touch to a roller coaster of a day. At the conclusion of the interviews, the goal was to get a feel for what Jake was doing, because we had heard he was also slowing down and having problems near the river. It didn't look too good, but he was still moving. In any case, it was clear that Jake wouldn't hit the finish line until well into the late night/early morning. Joe departed to get cleaned up after we decided that it was time for dinner at In N Out Burger! I was stoked...but only for a brief while until the decision was made to go to Auburn Ale House instead. This was not a step down by any means, but I had been craving a double protein animal style. Regardless, a few brews and some delicious food with Joe, James, and Adam proved to be a memorable and relaxing meal.

At this point, I wasn't ready for my WS race day to be done. I had prepared myself mentally to be out on the course at least until around 10pm, and for some reason, I felt I needed to experience just a bit more. James, Adam, and I decided to head back to the track and watch a few more runners finish. Even after a leisurely dinner in town, we made it back to see the seventh place runner finish! We stuck around long enough to see Karl Meltzer finish in 11th place (10th male), who finished over 3.5 hours after Timmy. This is what I mean when talking about how stretched out the race was. I had considered heading back out on the course to catch Jake, but the live splits from the various online updates were showing that he had been stuck at one of the aid stations near Cal St. for nearly three hours, so it didn't seem worth it, mainly because it was unclear when he would get to the next station with crew access, if at all.

By the end of the day, I felt a little lost. The plan for the day had been disrupted so much that I wasn't sure what time it was, where I should be, or what I should be doing. There was a feeling that I had missed something, and I'm sure the lack of celebrating Joe's finish was a big part of that, but regardless, it was another kickass adventure.

Post-race: The Aftermath

Sunday morning brought us to the awards ceremony back at the Placer track. Just as Joe decided to see the first finishers the night before, he wanted to be there for awards, as painful as it might be. Once I connected with Joe, I found out that Jake did indeed drop at mile 80, forcing him to wait at the aid station for four hours in the wee hours of the morning until it closed so that he could get a ride out of there. That's the downside to dropping at a more remote aid station. Not that it was terribly shocking news, but it was a bit of a bummer. I found a spot under the tent in the stagnant, steam bath air and finished up my Subway sub from the previous day as breakfast. It was quite miserable with the extreme heat, but worse out in the sun. Thankfully, race volunteers started poking through the crowd handing out ice cream bars and popsicles, improving the general disposition of all. Sam Jurek and his runner David made their way over to me, David looking a bit catatonic after his 26 hour finish. Sam, on the other hand, was cheerful as always, albeit tired as well. Meanwhile, Joe was in long sleeves under the open California sky, catching up with the other elite runners, which seemed both tough and cathartic for him. It was also quite inspiring to see the final finishers come in under the 30-hour cutoff, receiving huge applause and several standing ovations as they rounded the track just before 11am. Far tougher is it to be out on the course for two sunrises than to finish in record time, as has been noted by many before. Those are the true badasses of Western States. Some of them finished the race and came straight over to the tent for awards, plopping down on the grass, many of whom fell directly asleep. That's dedication. The awards started with the usual affair: Montrail Ultra Cup winners, top 10 men and women, 1000+ mile buckles, and the "geriatric award," given to the oldest male and female finishers. After seeing most of the silver buckles handed out, we jumped ship and headed back to the pool house to relax and cool off.

The rest of the day and the following couple days brought quality vacation time at the pool house in Auburn where Joe and his family stayed. We grilled out, drank plenty of beer, enjoyed the pool, and reveled in what brought me to love ultrarunning so much - the community it creates. The 2013 WS signature beer that Joe's brother-in-law Nate brewed for the occasion was also passed around - the M9 Beatdown Porter. Of course, we all were hoping for the beatdown to be given and received by different parties, but it was nonetheless appropriate I suppose. It was also one of the tastiest porters I've ever had. Props to Nate! Joe also gave a post-race speech with poise and reflection, thanking us once again for supporting him in this unpredictable endeavor of his.

Post-race speech. Photo Meredith Stevens

As I wrap up this immense beast of a post, I want to thank Joe for another opportunity to take part in this incredible event that I have grown to love so much, and to thank his family for taking me in over the years. Their kindness and familiarity has meant a great deal to me, and such inclusion makes this event even more memorable and meaningful. I do hope I have more chances to do it again!

You've made it! You made it to the end of this post, almost as long as the race itself. Congratulations, you officially have the gameness it takes to run ultras. If you're not a runner, consider starting.

Until next time, cheers!

A Conversation With Myself

2013-05-07T20:41:00.000-07:00

Upon reading Andy Jones-Wilkins post last Friday on iRunfar detailing the ever-present battle between the head and the heart when it comes to running, it made me more cognizant of the conversation between my head and heart lately. I thought I'd provide some of the transcript here to support his post.

Back story - Right around Earth Day I messed up my left foot and it's still giving me trouble. Strangely it's the same injury I experienced at the exact time last year, so I've treated it the same. I've run very little, and just when I thought it was good about two weeks out, I ran on it and relapsed, thus the following conversation (and yes, the dialogue in my head is oftentimes this cheesy):

Head: So smart guy, ya just had to run the trails in Ely this weekend, didn't you, and now you're paying for it...again.

Heart: I needed to run to keep my sanity, and besides, the dog needed exercise as well.

Head: So now you're back where you started, limping and unable to run, and there's only two weeks until your first 50km. The farthest you've run in your training has been 14.5 miles on the road, and the longest run you've done has only been 2 hours and 15 minutes, compared to at least 6 hours that you'll spend on trail at the race, and on top of all that, in minimalist shoes! What's the plan, big guy?

Heart: The race is an adventure, with more of a focus on joy and exploration than anything else. If I have to hike a good chunk of it, so be it! I'll have a lovely day on the trail amongst cool people, doing something that will bring me a great sense of accomplishment. Nothin better than that!

Head: We're talkin 30 miles! That's more than a "lovely day on the trail." And if you injure yourself more, maybe a full-on stress fracture, or a fall because you're mechanics will be compromised, what then?

Heart: Ever the pessimist. My fitness is still solid, and there's nothing saying that I can't bike or work out to maintain what I have. I'll stay off my foot, and a good two weeks should be plenty to let it heal. Should I have trouble in the race, I'll either turn around at the first AS and do the 25km, or DNF. I could use a total failure to learn a lesson, but it will at least be a positive one.

Head: What if the lesson is that you completely screw your training for the 50-miler next fall, your ultimate goal of over two years! Will that be worth it?

Heart: I think perhaps you're underestimating my grit...and also my intelligence.

Head: Intelligence? That's what I'm here for! You're pure id, plain and simple, and in any case, grit and stubbornness aren't enough for 50km with so many factors stacked against you as they are at the moment. You're just asking for trouble.

Heart: Just keep running...just keep running...

Head: Well the plan has been shot to hell: no long day training adventures on trail as planned, a complete shortfall of distance training, not to mention the longest winter EVER! There's no trustworthy plan from here on out.

Heart: You're just not thinking outside the box, Mr. Curmudgeon. My plan is to explore the unknown, have an adventure, find joy and have fun on the trail, and learn something from it. I love it when a plan comes together! And besides, there is one guarantee.

Head: Yeah? What's that?

Heart: Post-race beer, a decadent meal, and a hot tub with good friends to celebrate another adventure!

Head: I do like beer.

Heart: Cheers!

The Measure of a Long Run: Time vs. Distance

2013-04-26T21:47:00.001-07:00

Holy cow! It's been more than two months since my last post. I certainly didn't intend for that to happen, but life has not only been busy, but the weather and training have also not been cooperating, and I suppose I haven't been feeling all that excited about discussing it. With the first real taste of spring today in all of its 60-degree glory, however, it seems that the much needed vitamin D has inspired me.

For any of you who have read this blog before, you'll know that I typically write lengthy posts, and I'm sure it's part of the reason why I don't write as often as I'd like (do endurance atheletes and/or perfectionists ever do something part way?), but I'm giving myself permission to toss out some "quickies" from now on to keep things rolling...so here goes.

In training for the Superior Trail Races 50k on May 18th, I've done my best to run almost exclusively on trails and put in some longer runs, but the late season snow has been a complete hassle to say the least, and when running in conditions that feel like mashed potatoes, it's very difficult to go the required distance, as every mile feels like three. Thus, I've been doing timed runs instead of distance runs, which is something new to me.

I can certainly see the advantages to doing both runs for distance and those for a particular length of time, but I discovered that I have a dislike for timed runs, for several reasons:

Because I have no GPS device and am running on trails that are not mapped well for distance, I have no idea how far I've gone.
Due to #1, I also have no idea what my pace is, and can only guess.
Because of 1 and 2, I don't feel I have an accurate gauge on the success of my run, because I don't know my pace and therefore will have trouble setting a reasonable goal for the race. Since Superior is my first ever ultra - the longest race prior to this being 25k - I'm feeling a bit obsessive about knowing and planning my race as best as possible.

Distance runs, therefore, are more usable to me, as I can do the same run more than once and judge my improvement and/or fitness gains by the time, or at least can compare it to future runs of a longer distance to see if my pace has remained steady or improved. Being as competitive as I am, I am not satisfied with knowing that I just ran 2.5 hours if I have no idea how far/fast I've gone. Then again, I suppose not knowing how far I ran on the complete sufferfest of a run I had last Sunday makes it at least a little better in that I can plead ignorance, because it felt like I was doing 15-minute miles. Who knows if that's true, but on the other hand, if I did know how far I went, I would have probably realized that I was running much faster than how I felt (I hope - it's usually the case), so once again I'm back to disliking timed runs. The Fonz agrees.

Now the question is whether or not I should just bite the bullet and get a GPS watch or a smart phone. Any suggestions?

One Year Review

2013-02-20T19:33:00.000-08:00

Welcome to In Search of Badass, toddler style! It's hard to believe that one year has passed since I started this blog, and the last 12 months have been awesome, not without ups and downs, but nonetheless full of adventure, fun, and contemplation.

As January rolled in and the new year started, it was hard not to notice the myriad year-in-reviews and top (insert number here) lists scattering the interwebs. It's always fun to look back and sum up our time on this planet by highlighting the key events, and although it might be a cliché thing to do, I always enjoy it. My life is always so full that I tend to forget a lot, and being reminded of what happened in the previous year helps me gain a better perspective on time and how quickly or slowly it passes. As I mentioned in my last post, I'm also a list person, thus concise chronological lists fit my ordered, logical brain. In any case, I thought I'd take a moment to recap the last twelve months of my own life since I started this blog, and evaluate my progress toward the reason this blog exists in the first place - being awesome at life and a total badass. Should you need a refresher on the definition I'm using for said evaluation, check out one of my early posts here.

2012
February
After my return to coaching Nordic skiing from a two-year break, I had the chance to up my volume of running, seeing as we had a freakishly warm winter, with not a single ski meet on real snow. It gave me the chance to run a ton, experimenting with my new Merrel Trail Gloves. I was already in race fever, having signed up for both the Earth Day Half Marathon in St. Cloud and the Superior Trail Races 25km in late May, and it was only February!

The running was shaping up nicely, and I was enjoying the long runs on the weekends. One of the small joys was discovering one of these on a Saturday long run adventure in new territory.

March
If I could choose just one word to represent this month, it would be motivation. I was blogging pretty much once a week, my brain was entertaining and analyzing a million ideas, and I was experimenting with my running a ton (hydration options, nutrition, form), not to metion getting psyched for the half marathon. I had my first ever truly barefoot run, and although it was short, it was thoroughly uplifting (but COLD!). This month also brought what will probably remain as one of my worst runs ever, followed by one of the best. I've actually been itching to do a repeat of that 12-miler to my parents' house sometime soon, but for now, I'll need to wait until the ice melts along the sidewalks.

April
April was a big month. Although my one-post-a-week goal for this blog fell completely off the wagon, it did so for a reason. I was just way too busy! Training took the front seat, along with a few other things.

The month started with my spring break, for which I headed up north to Ely where my wife was doing an externship rotation for vet school at the clinic there. I spent my days between writing curriculum at the quaint little coffee shop on Main St. and running the trails at the Ely Nordic Center, an awesome collection of wooded trails, complete with dilapidated ski jump. I had a monster hill workout up and down that one! We also acquired the newest member to our family, an Alaskan husky from bloodlines of two champion mushing kennels. Skijoring harness and harness for Dart were purchased the very next day.

Poison Dart Frog aka Dart

Earth Day Half Marathon, St. Cloud, MN. The time had finally arrived. Anna and I headed north to St. Cloud for the race, only to be greeted by 40 degrees and rain on race morning. Despite the apparent crappy weather, I had a blast, and was overjoyed that I was able to complete what was at that point the longest running race of my life, and more importantly that I was able to do it in my Five Fingers. Huge triumph! I also managed to surpass my goal of 8min/mi pace, coming in at 1:39:00, a 7:34 pace. Unfortunately, cramming my feet into my narrow tennis shoes afterward for the long drive home seriously exacerbated the stress on the feet, and I ended up with a nagging foot injury for the next several weeks.

To round out the month, the Monday after the race brought a visit from new friend Mountain and his girlfriend Cherry as they circumnavigated the US on an epic road trip. Mountain is the guy behind the Primal Professional barefoot dress shoe, and it was cool to finally meet him in person and talk shoes, training, Paleo living, and more. I also had the pleasure of showing them the wonders of the Midwest a little bit.

Monkeying around at Midwest Mountaineering's bouldering cave.

Off the beaten path at Minnehaha Falls.

May
Post-Earth Day Half, my foot was utterly messed up and I couldn't run. Diagnosis from the doc was inconclusive and the treatment was simply to avoid running for 4-6 weeks. With the Superior Trail Race 25km only three weeks away, I took two weeks off and started running again on the third. Thanks to advice from Dr. OOJ DPT, I decided to experiment with the notion that sometimes you NEED to run to work out the pain, and it worked beautifully.

Superior Trail Races 25km. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect trail race experience! Enjoying the company of my wife and fellow troublemaker Sam Jurek, we had a blast heading up to Caribou Highlands resort for the weekend, and the race itself was almost magical. I didn't quite reach my goal time for the race, but considering that it was my first trail race on truly rugged terrain, I'm happy with my performance and am even more stoked about the 50km this year!

Black Hills Climbing Trip. Back for the 13th annual climbing trip, the gang and I set out once again for a weekend of climbing, community, and camping in the Black Hills, a tradition that is near and dear to my heart, and one that I will not compromise on. It's the one time of year that I can count on seeing my best friend Rob and gather our little climbing community together for some quality time. The weather wasn't altogether agreeable, but we did get some sweet climbs in, including two on my bucket list: the Conn Route near Sylvan Lake, and Waves in the Rushmore area, the latter on which I led the second pitch with not enough quickdraws. Oops!


A helluva start to the weekend. Is there a lake near here?


The view from atop the Conn Route. Don't let the sunshine fool you, it was windy and COLD!

Repelling off of Waves.

June/July
Summer started off very well. Anna and I took her brother and his family, including their 5-year-old to Interstate State Park in WI for some climbing. It was a blast hooking the little guy up on the approach climb and letting him go. Hopefully he'll maintain the desire to climb!

In my mind, he needed some extra challenge, so I added it ex post facto.

I also did some solid running again, quite a bit of it totally barefoot, although the pavement was getting hotter by the day, and I did burn my feet a few times. I also made my own huarache sandals from shoe remnants I had lying around, which I meant to blog about, but never got to it. Perhaps in the future yet. Stay tuned.

Ze Vaterland. After school got out, I headed once again to Rottweil, Germany with my students on the exchange my colleague and I started in 2005. It was a total blast as always, mainly due to my awesome German counterpart who is constantly on the go and providing adventures for me. The adventure highlight was definitely climbing for the first time in Germany on real rock! A friend of my colleague and his son are avid climbers, so they took me up into the Schwabische Alb for an afternoon.

Max leading the first route.

The route I led - a slanty, slippery 5.9+ with few bolts.

The one big negative of the trip was due to a poor decision I made to play some pick-up soccer with my colleague and his friends. The game was fun, and I even scored two goals, but deciding to play in my Trail Gloves was a bad idea. They were too flimsy for all the sharp lateral movement changes, and one of the guys - a German-sized man - stepped right on my foot with his cleats, which put me out of running for the rest of the summer, and quashed my plans to run the Superior Trail Races Marathon in Sept. Lesson learned.

Wyoming Trip. Two days after arriving home from Germany, Anna and I left on a road trip out west for my dear friend Jen's wedding at an outdoor chapel in the mountains, which was altogether breathtaking and inspiring. On the way, we stopped in to Custer State Park in the Black Hills to camp and enjoy one of my favorite places on earth. We didn't get much time to climb, but we did manage to get on the spelunking tour at Jewel Cave National Monument, the second largest cave in the world. The tour is four hours long, 30 stories underground, and travels about 1/4 mile, starting in a room with a 50-foot ceiling and squeezing the cavers through its tightest spot - a mere 8" x 24". This was my fourth time on the tour, and it never gets dull.

The "brain drain" in all its chest-scraping glory.

The following two weeks was the largest single chunk of time that I was at home throughout the entire summer. I spent it trying to heal my foot while simultaneously training for a mountaineering trip to Colorado in August.

August
Colorado 14er Trip. After a long five years of not bagging any 14ers, my former college roommate Bret, his high school best friend Steve, and I took to the rock once again for my third go at summiting some of the 14,000ft peaks in Colorado. Bret and Steve are on the quest to do all 53 of them in their lifetime and have succeeded in almost as many as their current age (mid-thirties). I just like going with to enjoy the challenge and the amazing scenery. This particular iteration brought us to Long's Peak on the Front Range in Rocky Mountain National Park down to Mt. of the Holy Cross in the Sawatch Range and finally to Mt. Sherman in the Mosquito Range near Leadville. I'm not sure whose idea it was to start with Long's and its 14-mile round trip with 5,100ft of elevation gain, followed by 11.5 miles and 5,600ft of gain the next day on Holy Cross, but it was enough to kill our original plan of doing Tabaguache and Shavano the following day.

Long's was incredible. We stayed with my wife's aunt and uncle in Estes Park in their guest apartment high up on one of the mountains outside of town. It's truly an amazing place, and the perfect staging point before our long day ahead. After about 4 hours of sleep, we got up at 2am and headed to the trailhead.

The view from the deck, with Long's on the left.

On trail by around 3:30am, we started through the woods with headlamps, passing through the various ecological zones until we left the trees and vegetation behind for a kingdom of rock. I'll let the pictures do the talking from here.

Chasm Lake junction at 11,500 at dawn.

The long boulder field with a view of the infamous North Wall.

This mountain - and all 14ers - don't f' around.

Bret and Steve in front of the Keyhole, where things get interesting.

"The Narrows" linking the 600' vertical slog of "the trough" and the last pitch to the summit.

The final 300' of slick Class 3, known as "the Homestretch."

After bonking at the keyhole and barely making it to the summit, I learned my lesson; fuel early and fuel often. It was scary coming down the Homestretch with shaky legs, but altogether an awesome summit and the highlight of the trip.

Since this post is already beyond long, I'll share just a few shots of Holy Cross and Sherman, and will consider writing a separate post on this trip, even though it was half a year ago.

Mt. of the Holy Cross, before the weather got real sketchy.

Quick summit pick before hauling ass down in 20-30mph gusts!

After two long and exhausting days of climbing, sandwiching a terrible night of camping, we checked in to the Leadville Super 8 for the night, before our last - and easiest - climb. We happened to roll in the same weekend as the Leadville 100 bike race, which was super cool. The place was hopping, and it was cool to feel the energy. I in particular was imagining how it might feel the very next weekend when the ultra would be held. Good timing, indeed.

Most densely packed bag EVER, and what comes from shopping at lower altitude.

Almost at the summit of Sherman, climbing from below right.

The new summit pose. "If you crotch it, you OWN it!"

So long, Colorado, and thanks for all the fish...er...I mean fun.

Family Vacation, Lake Wisconsin. Four days after getting home from Colorado, Anna and I took off for Wisconsin to hang with her family for a week. Her parents rented a cabin on Lake Wisconsin, and it was a great way to spend some quality time with cool people, coupled with plenty of time outside in the sunshine. We brought our two kayaks and Anna's homemade canoe, and they got a ton of love. I did my first long solo paddle from the north arm of the lake down and around to the railroad bridge near the Merrimac ferry, totaling around 11 miles. It would have been a bit easier had I not been on a schedule to get back for dinner! Altogether a solid solo quest battling the wind in open water for the first half.

Labor Day in the BWCA. Before returning to work, Anna and I took a long weekend to the Boundary Waters for a canoe trip. Putting in at Baker Lake out of Tofte, we made a leisurely trip out of the five days, mainly because we put in on a very long, narrow chain of lakes without too many options, unless we wanted to suffer through a 300 rod portage in either of two possible directions to get to bigger waters, but with as many people as were out there, we didn't feel the need to chance portaging and paddling all day just to find no vacancy in any of the campsites. Being used to hauling ass on all my canoe and kayak trips, it was a little disconcerting at first to just stay put and take day trips, but it ended up being a blast. It was Dart's first canoe trip and she was a champ in the boat, and we did plenty of swimming. I also spotted my first wild otter!

Best idea ever! Brown ale in a Nalgene, available at Fitger's Brewhouse in Duluth. (Glass is prohibited in the BWCA)

September
In regard to adventure and general badassery, September was pretty quiet. One week after the BWCA, I headed right back to the same place as a volunteer for the Superior Trail Races fall series, which I had intended to run before I got injured in Germany. I worked at the Sawbill/Britton Peak AS with the Immerfall family, who have been volunteering at that aid station for as long as the race has been in existence. It was a very quick trip, but a fun and valuable experience watching the first 100-milers come through around 2am Saturday and then the 50-milers and marathoners later in the day. Altogether I spent about 17 hours there with a three-hour nap at around 4am. I had a blast, learned a ton, and if for some odd reason I'm not running it this fall, I'll be there again helping out.

October
September finally included a more normalized running regimen after recovering from the "Fußball incident" in Germany, which led to one of my top 3 runs ever while camping in WI over the first weekend of October with my college friends. The sun was out, the temps were cold, but this 10-miler was pristine, calming, and simultaneously invigorating as I cruised along the country roads through rolling valleys and stunning scenery, complete with quaint little farms, some gravel road to challenge the Five Fingers, and a ridiculously long climb at the end of the run. Paradise!

Monster Dash Half Marathon. Anna, her brother, her friend from vet school, and I rallied together to run the race that Anna and I have been meaning to do for at least two years. I hadn't had all that much time to train since recovering, but it was enough, and I was motivated, particularly because the route is gorgeous, familiar, and mostly downhill. The people (read: costume) watching was key, bringing everything from a full-on spartan complete with sword and shield to a guy carrying a shower ring with curtain over his head for the duration of the race. We kept it simple with a big letter P on our shirts and me with some black make-up on one eye; the girls were chick peas and I - you guessed it - was a black-eyed pea. The race went really well. It took my feet the first mile or two to regain feeling after going numb in the 30-degree morning before the start, but everything warmed up nicely, and I managed a PR at 1:37:18. Although it was a ton of fun, it solidified the fact that I have no more desire to race on roads anymore. Trails are where it's at! It was worth the sweet swag though.

November
No major events to speak of this month. I was running a ton and ski season started. I thoroughly enjoyed the dry-land training with the Apple Valley runner boys as we rolled through Lebanon Hills. I was feeling really fit and was almost reluctant to get on snow.

December
Spotty was the snow and skiing, but consistent enough so that we didn't need to travel to fake snow. Anna and I had our first chance to skijor as well, she taking Dart and I taking her brother's golden retriever. It was a blast, and soooo fast! I could get used to not doing all the work.

On the Friday before Christmas, I skipped out on practice to head to River Falls and join up with Joe and Sam for a mini-WS reunion. Starting with a headlamp trail run along the Kinnikinnick river in the snow, we covered all necessary topics, with the conversation flowing as swiftly as the running. Definitely one of the top runs for the books, and it was the perfect thing to induce proper hunger for the porketta that Joe's mom left for us. I swear I must have eaten at least 3 pounds of meat for dinner, washing it down with a fine selection of brews shared in tasting style. It was here when Joe enlightened me to the notion of "the meat sweats." The evening continued at Junior's bar with more beer and even deeper conversation, concluded with a late night pizza and viewing of Goonies. A stellar way to start the holiday break. There is an indescribable feeling of camaraderie with those two guys, and it's the type of relationship everyone should have in their life.

Post-Christmas brought me back up north for the annual winter ski trip with the team. We stayed at a camp near Grand Rapids, but ended up driving to Giant's Ridge each day due to a lack of snow. I can't remember a ski trip that I enjoyed more over all the years I've coached. It was more relaxed, the skiing was solid despite meager snow, and I was feeling strong. I put in a good 50-60km over the four sessions we had.

2013
January
Skiing, skiing, and more skiing! Coaching dominates my life for three months every winter, and January is the heart of it. Unfortunately, as the race season heats up, the less skiing I get to do, but I managed my fair share. Perhaps it's because both months start with J, but I started planning for June and "the Big Juan" as Joe puts it. I'm already excited to head back to CA to see arguably the most storied ultra in the US, particularly with Joe starting as M9!

_______________

That brings us to the present. Ski season is done and I'm gearing up for both running and climbing again. I'm really gonna enjoy being part time and having my work day end at 1:35pm. In the meantime, I need to get over the cold I have at the moment, which hit me the day after the state Nordic ski meet last week. Perfect timing indeed, and perhaps a sign that I need a week off.

Now that I've detailed the year, let's take a look and evaluate, shall we?

Goals
In my third ever post, I listed off some of my goals. I'll relay them here once again:

Be able to climb some 5.11's in the gym before the Black Hills trip Memorial Day weekend
Run a steady 8min/mi pace at the half marathon (that may be adjusted later)
Finish the trail race in 2:30 or under (average 10min/mi pace)
Have fun! This includes my training.
Use all of this as an excuse to eat lots of delicious food and drink more beer

Check, check, nope, check, and (especially) check! The only goal I didn't meet was my time for the 25km, but had I gone back to those goals before the race, I would have changed that, and probably would have thrown it out altogether, seeing as it was my first trail race and I truly had no idea what to expect. My time was, however, quite acceptable to me, and now I have an idea of what to expect from the course, which is a better trade, in my opinion.

So, have I become more badass? I've certainly had a much busier year than many in the past, and my motivation and action have increased dramatically. Whether it's discovering a new love of running or having this blog as a task master, I've done more, felt more successful, and had a ton of fun along the way. I'm also picking up steam, with the Superior Trail 50km on the docket this May - my farthest distance ever, along with the annual Black Hills climbing trip, a potential 25km in April, and the whole summer off to play! The wife will also be moving to Ely for a year-long position starting in April, meaning I'll be spending plenty of time up there in the woods and on the water. Just for funzies though, let's look at the qualities of badass as set forth in my early posts and evaluate accordingly:

Intelligent - Well, I don't think intelligence changes, but I believe I've gained some wisdom and have engaged in more active contemplation, with this blog as proof of the latter.
Technically proficient - My running form has improved dramatically since last year, and I've gotten faster to boot. My body is also adapting nicely.
Driven by challenge - Having run only 5-milers at the farthest, I did two half marathons and a trail 25km, with a 50km set for spring. Does that count?
Daring - Putting myself out there and signing up for races is an improvement, but I can definitely find room for improvement here, whether it be in athletic, social, or professional settings. I tend not to take risks unless they have a high chance for success. I need to fail more.
Grit - I haven't reached my limits of pain and suffering yet, so I don't feel this can truly be evaluated except to say that I don't rate myself high on this one. Work for the future.
Concern for others and world - See here and you be the judge. I must also express my utmost thanks to all of the amazing people in my life. They are the true motivation and inspiration for me, and I hope I serve them and the rest of humanity with honor and grace.

Whew! Does anyone else feel like they need a shower? If you've made it this far, thanks for reading, and I'll definitely give you points for number 3 above. Until next time, and feel free to leave a comment.

Primal Professional Barefoot Dress Shoe (Prototype)

2013-01-22T20:16:00.001-08:00

THE STORY - A Colorado 14er in California?
April 23rd, 2012 - A man named Mountain and his girlfriend Cherry step out of a silver rental sedan on a sunny spring afternoon and I greet them at my door for the first time in person. They will spend a few days with my wife and I along their massively epic US road trip, taking them from their home in sunny California to the cool Midwest, the East Coast, and the baked Southwest, mostly to see their homeland in its fullness, but also to take care of some business. The warmth of their West Coast home radiates from their smiles, and I like them immediately. It's true that his full name is Mountain Evan Chang, and I wonder if he's named after Mt. Evans, the third tallest peak in Colorado at 14,264ft with the highest paved road in North America. Not a bad start to life with a name like that. His female companion Cherry exudes the very essence of the fruit itself, sweet and vibrant. Indeed it seems these two were destined for greatness by their very names alone.

I met Mountain about 6 months earlier when I discovered his Indie GoGo campaign to kickstart his own business surrounding a totally new shoe design, namely for a zero-drop, minimalist dress shoe, or barefoot dress shoe as it were. Choosing to adhere to the paleo diet and live life as an urban caveman of sorts got him to thinking about bringing the ethos of his personal life into his work life, a place filled with modern conventions that are contrary to most everything we know in life to be healthy: sitting all day, slouching in front of a computer under artificial light, wearing constricting clothing, and eating junk food to stay awake to do work that does neither provide joy nor satisfaction. That may be an overstatement, but you get the idea. In any case, like many people devoted to a more primal lifestyle, being barefoot - or as barefoot as possible - is a key ingredient, for various health reasons. Thus, designing a barefoot dress shoe that not only provides comfort and a minimalist feel but also compliments the modern dress shoe style became increasingly more paramount to him as a member of the professional world.

THE DREAM
In my last post, I discussed the notion of making an impact on the world in a positive way, while also leading a kickass life. It's important to allow our dreams to be larger than life, and even more important to dedicate the energy necessary to truly make them a reality, which is what Mountain is doing, and I respect and admire him a great deal for it. Although his initial Indie GoGo campaign failed, he was so confident in his design that he quit his job and dedicated himself full-time to making this barefoot dress shoe happen. He has fronted most of his life savings to put this into production, and the moment has finally arrived. The first run of the shoe will be ready to ship in just months. Having shared in his excitement and being a supporter of his dream, I was lucky enough to snag a pair of prototypes from him to preview, so here's the sneak peek. Check it out.

THE SHOE

Design
The idea behind this shoe is to provide as much comfort and space in an otherwise classically-shaped dress shoe, allowing for the greatest proprioception and toe-splay without sacrificing style. The clothes may make the man, but the shoes make him complete. Thus, Mountain decided on a high-quality full-grain black leather, round-toe, closed-lace, cap-toe oxford, because it's truly classic and elegant (sorry guys if the word "elegant" rubs you the wrong way - how about sexy?). It is a shoe that fits many purposes and occasions, and it's a great place to start for a minimalist dress shoe.

The penultimate feature of the design for this shoe is the shape. The shoe looks like a standard oxford, managing to hide the fact that it is wide enough to give all five little piggies room to splay and the midfoot room to expand without looking like a clown shoe. There were a couple of earlier prototypes that I had the chance to check out when Mountain was visiting, and I felt like was wearing a pair of Ronald McDonald's flattened casuals, so I'm glad that he hit the mark with this current version.

The Primal Professional in the middle, in comparison with my two pair of (very old) dress shoes.

Ultimately the coolest and most unique part of this barefoot dress shoe is the sole. The greatest beef with dress shoes for barefooters, in my observation, is the raised heel in most standard styles. To be a true barefoot dress shoe, or even a minimalist dress shoe, it would need to be zero-drop, meaning no difference in height from heel to toe, while also providing good ground feel, otherwise known more technically as proprioception. To this end, Mountain was creative in designing a sole that tricks the eye into believing the heel is raised, when in fact it's all just a ruse. By having a flexible, zero-drop sole that appears to have a raised heel, form and function become delightfully intertwined. Unfortunately, I did not get the fully finished version of the shoe, because the soles hadn't been produced yet, so the best part was missing, and instead it had just a flat piece of ersatz rubber. Here's a pic I stole from Mountain to give you the idea, however.

Quality
Mountain went out of his way to find a manufacturer that not only is in the US, but would produce the shoe with the greatest quality, materials, and attention to detail. The leather is incredibly uniform and supple, the stitching is perfect, and it just looks sexy. I can't say that it stands out in the crowd of dress shoes, as there is really no trendy or funky accent to it, but as mentioned earlier, it's a timeless design that will withstand the fashion trends through the years. Although the pair that I received to review are unfinished in the fact that they only have an ersatz sole for the time being, the upper is impressive. Unfortunately I cannot say anything about the feel or quality of the sole itself, other than to say that the pictures look pretty swanky, and this vid - starting at 7:06 - shows superior flexibility. The entire product is manufactured by a company in Wisconsin, for which Mountain searched long and hard to ensure quality, and also to support our own national economy. A high-quality product that also maintains jobs here at home - what could be better?

Fit: The Most Comfortable Dress Shoe Ever?
To say that I was excited to receive the test prototype is an understatement. I had seen pictures of the developments and followed Mountain through the process, and thus have anticipated the final product for quite some time. In regard to the fit, they are definitely roomy enough to provide toe-splay and midfoot expansion. That being said, they didn't fit my foot terribly well. I have a very narrow heel and a wide midfoot (think swim flipper), and in order to avoid the shoe looking too clownish, the extra width in the midfoot continues back to the heel as well, making the shoe wide in general. Additionally, these are a size 7, and I normally wear a size 8 in regular shoes (7.5 in my Merrel Trail Gloves and a 39 in Five Fingers), so the sizing is also a bit wonky.

The other dilemma in designing this shoe came from the trick-the-eye sole. The foot actually rests inside of the outsole, meaning the upper must be a bit shallower to fit more properly when the foot rests so low to the ground. However, making the upper too shallow drastically changes the look of the shoe, giving it a strangely flat profile, so finding the proper shape was a challenge throughout the design process. In my case, along with my narrow heel, I also have a rather shallow foot from top to bottom. Due to this, the cuff of the shoe felt quite loose and sloppy and I never felt I could tie it quite tightly enough. The closed-lace design, while looking cleaner and classier, also hinders the ability to tie the shoe tighter, as opposed to an open-lacing system that is a bit more forgiving. I have tried on numerous closed-lace dress shoes in the past (regular dress shoes with a raised heel), and I've always had this problem around the cuff.

Laces tied all the way, foot resting normally, with visible space at heel, while wearing thick wool socks.

Despite the loose fit around the cuff, the shoes performed surprisingly well. I must admit that when I tried them on, I was disappointed, although not surprised. I know the shape of my foot well and was expecting the closed-lace design to provide a challenge in a snug fit around the cuff. Throwing all of that aside, I decided to wear them to work for a day, and being a classroom teacher who is on his feet all day, they were awesome, even with the thin, rigid temporary sole it has now. That sole, however, made them wicked slippery, and I'm glad that the actual soles will be quality non-slip rubber. Despite the temporary sole, they still looked great with a pair of nice jeans and dress shirt for "casual Friday." I tried them on with my dress pants as well when I got home, and they looked classy as hell.

So the question is; is this the most comfortable dress shoe ever? It certainly has the potential. After about an hour, I didn't notice the loose cuff except for when I went down the stairs or downhill, when my foot was pushed forward more and it cramped my toes a bit. Otherwise these were a sweet ride, and I think that with the actual sole, they will be even more comfortable. Also of note regarding the soles is that they can be replaced when worn out. Overall, I would say that there is still room for growth and improvement in the design, but seeing as this has never been done before, I give Mountain an "A" for effort. I personally am fond of the patent-leather square-toed oxford and would love to see a Primal Professional version in the future.

Is This Shoe For Everyone?
Quite a few people I've met who aren't into the minimalist "movement" don't seem to understand what the fuss is about, or they simply don't care, which begs the question of why to even consider these dress shoes, especially considering that they run around $300 a pair. Allow me to make a few points to address this. First off, let me ask you; are your dress shoes both appropriate and stylish, yet also comfortable enough to wear ALL day without sore feet by the time you take them off? If not, then you should consider these shoes. Secondly, do you want healthier, stronger feet, better posture, and a more normal, efficient gait that will prevent foot problems like bunions, a misaligned spine, and a host of other preventable maladies later in life? Consider how much time you spend at work throughout your life, for which you need to wear dress shoes (if you have such a career). Your feet will thank you for these shoes. Finally, I will direct you to this post by Jason Robillard, who has done some testing on the comfort and support of minimalist shoes while working long hours on his feet as a UPS delivery man, otherwise known as an "industrial athlete." Some of his findings and insights are truly invaluable, showing that you need not be a suit-and-tie businessman to benefit from a minimalist dress shoe. You may decide for yourself that not only is this the most comfortable dress shoe ever, but simply the most comfortable shoe, period. You even have a 365-day risk-free period to test it with free returns and exchanges during that time. That's how confident Mountain is in his product. As I mentioned earlier, you're also buying a quality product that's made in the USA from a small business owner who cares about the economy and the health of his customers (not to mention their style). That's the kind of person I would like to support.

If you're interested in more information, check out the website via the link on the side of my blog, or on The Primal Professional's Facebook page, where you'll find more photos and information on how to get in on owning a pair of these unique and comfortable shoes.

The List: Attaining Dreams and Making an Impact

2013-01-01T20:15:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! Well, it's 2013, the world didn't end, and here we are for another trip around the sun. Now is the time when people start making resolutions to improve their lives in the coming year, be it a plan to get in shape, be more successful in their career, or do more good for the lives of others. Of course, the cliché is that most people tend not to keep their resolutions, but I think it is nonetheless a valuable tradition. It's only a shame that most people do it only once a year at this symbolically fresh start, a sort of do-over now that we've reached the need for a new calendar. I'm a proponent of continued reflection throughout the year, and the last few weeks have brought that in various ways.

Throughout the blogosphere lately, or at least the realm in which I dwell, I've been reading a lot about two complimentary ideas, namely getting the most out of life and doing the most good. The former has included such ideas as selling everything and living a life of travel and adventure, or quitting your day job to replace it with one that you can do from anywhere at anytime and may not require much work at all. The latter has dealt with improving self and the lives of others and the greater notion of leaving a legacy. It's in the combination of these two concepts that interests me most.

On the Friday before Christmas, my two good ultrarunner friends Joe and Sam were back in town to visit family, and we managed to hook up for an awesome night run in the snow along the Kinnikinnick River in River Falls, WI. I don't often get the chance to run with friends, but a run with these guys produces rich conversation, with a flow and honesty that only a conversation while running can provide. We discussed relationships, deeper self-evaluation, future race plans, and interspersed it all with the typical humor that most male runners seem to share. All things considered, it was refreshing for the soul and a rekindling of passion for life.

Later that evening we shared a meal and more than a few beers, continuing our conversation. The three of us are all adventurers, aiming to "do cool shit" as Joe plainly puts it, but we got into the deeper repercussions of said adventure, particularly relating to ultrarunning. It's truly amazing to me still that people can run 100 miles continuously, not to mention at the paces some do, but it begs the question, "So what?" What does it truly mean, what is the value of it? In the grand scheme of things, I argued that in and of itself it doesn't mean squat, because it's not designed as a task you do to help others and improve the world. It's just doing something cool. That being said, on a more individual level it makes a huge impact: for the runner, for the crew and volunteers, and for the sake of human potential. Running 100 miles is a quest that challenges not only the body, but the mind and spirit as well, yielding huge potential for personal growth. It is, however, what you do with this growth that is important. Winning a buckle at Western States is a huge accomplishment, but if you do it just to say that you've run 100 miles in under 24 hours, it changes very little, in your life or others' lives. In Joe's case, he has used his knowledge as a physical therapist and experience as an ultrarunner to help numerous athletes as a columnist on iRunfar.com and through private coaching, not to mention his day-to-day job. Although I have not run a "hundo," my experience crewing for Joe at Western States in 2011 was inspirational to say the least and life changing to be more honest. There are many different angles in how we look at our impact on others, so long as we do consider it and make a concerted effort to be sure we're being a positive force in the world.

That brings me to a blog post I came across shortly after Christmas from a guy who quit his job, sold or got rid of most of his possessions, and is attempting to ride his motorcycle around the world. Rather than blogging about his travels, he blogs more about how to change your life for the better. The post that struck me most was on the notion of struggle. We humans need struggle. We need it to learn, grow, and create self worth. In contrast, we also seem to work diligently at making things easier for ourselves, thereby decreasing the actual struggle in our lives. It's a strange dichotomy, and for those of us who happened to be born in the right place at the right time into privilege of all sorts, our true struggles are very few, and so we create artificial struggles to overcome, to say that we too are strong, creative, intelligent, and worthy. It is for this reason that we see so many obstacle races popping up all over, like the Tough Mudder, Spartan Race, and Warrior Dash, to name a few. Although the artificial struggles may seem a bit trite at times, they can have value and may also reap huge rewards for the individual. At various points in our discussions when Joe, Sam, or I would voice some kind of complaint or issue, one of the other two of us would simply utter, "first world problems." It's a quick jerk back into reality, to say that our problems are nonsense compared to those who haven't eaten in a week, or must voyage on foot across an entire African country in order to seek refuge from rebel killers, but if we recognize this difference, we can choose to make our "first world" struggles valuable when we put their effects and outcomes to good use.

So the question is, how can you lead the most kickass AND badass life possible, living life to the fullest and still making the greatest difference in the world? That is for each of us to decide, and that's the reason behind this post. I'm reminded of a quote by E.B. White, author of Charlotte's Web, that frames the issue quite well; "I get up every morning determined to both change the world and have one hell of a good time. Sometimes this makes planning my day difficult." It's a valid sentiment, but must it be so? Can succeeding in a self chosen "struggle" yield just as much joy and satisfaction as just "doing cool shit?"

Last Saturday my wife and I watched the documentary Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide. It was not only incredibly well done, but inspiring and thought provoking, to see ideal examples of what people are doing around the world, despite all odds, to make a difference in the lives of others. It is a two-part documentary reporting on six countries around the world where individuals or groups of people have set out to overcome seemingly insurmountable struggles such as sex trafficking, accepted gender-based violence, and unequal opportunities in education for girls. Some of the tales are harrowing, in which the individuals literally risk their lives to save underage girls from a life of rape and violence in brothels. Without a doubt it was a film to make me wonder if I'm doing enough, or if I'm doing anything at all. As a teacher, I can always say that I'm making a difference in the lives of young people, but I am a white male born in the United States, armed to the teeth with the weapons of privilege. Now is the time to contemplate if I'm using my weapons wisely and completely.

The final piece in this whirlwind of thought as of late was a post by Jason Robillard on his blog, detailing his new undertaking called the BRUcrew - a community of like-minded individuals devoted to improving themselves and the world around them by overcoming their fears and stepping up to more meaningful interactions and undertakings. It's a cool idea, although I wouldn't say totally unique. There are plenty of self-improvement strategies and groups out there, but this one found me first, mainly because he's a barefoot runner and ultrarunner and started the group mainly for training purposes, and is now expanding it to include more altruistic challenges. In any case, all of these thoughts and experiences lately have compounded to an idea I had (or stole) from my good friend Jen last summer while at her wedding in the Bighorn mountains of Wyoming. The officiant at the ceremony told several short stories about her and her groom, but one struck me as particularly simple, but brilliant. He explained that while inside Jen's apartment for the first time, he noticed a piece of paper on the fridge on which she listed all of her big dreams. They ranged from smaller, more easily attainable dreams, up to the huge ones that will be years in the making. Now, I've always been a visual person and also a list-maker. I have yellow sticky notes all over my desk and computer at work to remind me of various things, so this idea of a "dream list" struck me as a wonderful idea, to have a simple reminder staring me in the face every time I go for a glass of milk or post-workout beer. Thus I started two lists, in fact. The first list includes only names of people with whom my wife and I have pledged to have dinner or hang out. It will not only keep us on track, but give us something to look forward to in the coming months. The second list, however, is the Big One. I have titled it "The Dream is Reality List," and it includes mostly adventures so far, such as traveling to New Zealand, climbing Devil's Tower, and running at least a 50-miler. I hope to expand that list into one that will include endeavors to make a difference in others' lives, and Anna and I have already started discussing some possibilities, which is the first task. In seeking out answers to the questions posed here, we must first define a tangible and specific action that will be list-worthy.

Should you have similar feelings and desires at the turning of the new year, here are two resources to check out that helped - or will help - me flesh out the specifics better. Check out some of the links and/or additional posts by these gentlemen. They may not be mind-blowing, but they are a great place to start thinking, and better yet dialoging with others. Cheers!

Motovagabond - How to Find Your Passion
Building a Legacy Project: A Good Blueprint For a Life That Really Matters

Joy: Beyond the Runner's High

2012-12-06T17:40:00.001-08:00

Nestled in the middle of one of the larger suburbs of the Twin Cities is a true gem for trail runners, nature lovers, horseback riders, or anyone in search of some solitude, beauty, or fresh air. At times it is a compact, cozy place, and yet it spans a rather vast territory, crossing over two major roads each a mile or more apart, and when thinking of the neighborhoods at the farthest ends, you wouldn't be wrong in assuming that you're in a completely different city. It does, in fact, stretch into the neighboring suburb of Rosemount. I'm speaking of Lebanon Hills Regional Park in Eagan, MN, one of my favorite places to run.

I've had the opportunity to train here for many years, and I've still never been on all the trails. That is to say that I'm often a creature of habit and have my favorite trails that get me as deep into the park as possible, away from all other humans, which is often a goal when I run. Lately, however, I've been running with teenagers everyday as a coach for a Nordic ski team.

In the last two weeks or so, something in the universe must have changed, because almost every run there has presented some unique factor to it that has brought me Joy, capital J intended. Runners often talk about the runner's high, the endorphins, and epic runs, but these runs seemed to have gone beyond that simple pleasure, and each run was joyful for a different reason. Thanksgiving week started with near-60 degree weather, allowing the guys on the team to run shirtless during progression intervals, but by the end of the week, Friday greeted us with only 24 degrees and snow on the ground - the first true cold run of the season. For me, the intervals on Monday were almost magical. I felt swift and relaxed, as if my feet weren't actually touching the ground but only mimicking a runner's stride so as not to disparage the kids. The grassy, rolling hills propelled me forward, awakening my senses and invigorating me. It is difficult to fully describe, but at the end of the workout I felt connected to the trail, the woods, the earth itself, and was ready for more. The kids, on the other hand, were spent.

Tuesday was a long, easy distance day. I took my usual group of the top cross-country guys and headed out. Along our 7.5-mile route on the innermost trail in the park, we meandered past lakes and ponds as the sun hung low in the November sky. Rounding a bend and coming upon one of the nameless lakes to my left, a warm, blanketing light draped the woods and water in a content stillness with a hues of gold and burnt umber, flooding my heart with equal warmth and stillness. Even in the forest on a calm day, such stillness is fleeting, and almost as quickly as it arrived, the calm was broken by the greeting of a Great Horned Owl's call from the opposite side of the trail, where the woods had already darkened and become almost brooding. Such somber sound and sight I considered more of a greeting, however, offering up my salutations as we passed.

After a Thanksgiving filled with binging on rich and succulent foods and doing absolutely nothing, I was ready for a run on Friday morning. Despite the cold weather and snow underfoot, everyone seemed chipper and ready to share their stories of how they ate too much. With the holiday warmth still fresh and the air crisp in our lungs, the run was effortless and the surroundings quiet once again. Although I usually dread the first cold run of the season, once I'm out there it's instantly therapeutic. All in all, it was a brilliant "recovery" from Thanksgiving, and also prepped me for Thanksgiving #2 with my wife's family later that day.

Fast forward to last Thursday. The weather was warmer again, and over-under intervals were on the docket. I was in charge of the varsity boys, and this would prove to be a difficult challenge for me, keeping up with them during two sets of 18 minutes of sustained hard running. Although they toasted me on the uphills (they had poles and I did not), the flats and the downs actually provided them with a challenge to keep up with me! It's not often that I can outrun the varsity boys, but this day proved that I'm clearly the fittest I've been in years. This accomplishment was not what brought me the most joy, however, but rather it was as we returned to the parking lot at the end of practice, where the trees faded away and the sky opened up to brilliant shades of imperial violet that caressed the sky as dusk fell, hushing the worries and chaos of the day. For those who don't get outside much in the colder season, this alone is the reason to venture outdoors at dusk. The sunsets are phenomenal, and completely different from anything in the summer. Combine that sight with a successful workout, and you have the perfect recipe for true Joy with a capital J.

After all of these stark moments, I have since felt more open and susceptible to Joy, aware of my surroundings and the privilege I have to run in such a place. Used as a form of meditation, of emptying one's mind of worry or obligation, a run in the woods provides a transparency of soul, allowing for better introspection and the intake of all things positive and inspirational. It is this opening up that, after spending too much time closed off in our own personal worlds of work and daily routine, makes running such a vital component in maintaining health and happiness in life, in a way that may not be as easily attained through other pursuits.

Do runner's experience more Joy than other people? It's hard to say, but I do believe that we are more susceptible to it, and I also believe that there is much more Joy to be found outside in a natural surrounding. Since runners spend a great deal of time outside, our chances are better, even more so for trail runners. This is also the reason why I love to camp, ski, rock climb, kayak, and do just about anything else in nature, and winter is no time to avoid it. When natural beauty and adventure intertwine, framed with an open mind and heart, happiness and contentment are unavoidable, but if you're seeking true Joy, get out and run on a trail somewhere. You might find that which has eluded you, but as LeVar Burton from Reading Rainbow says, "Don't take my word for it."

The Challenge of Being Upright: Improving Balance

2012-10-26T18:26:00.001-07:00

Over the last year or so in my quest to become a better runner, I’ve done a lot of reading on various topics, ranging from running form to training regimens. One of the buzzwords I’ve come across a few times that is even more rampant in the Parkour community is proprioception; that is, the awareness of one’s own body, how it moves, and its position in space as determined by the stimuli within the body (ie sensory receptors activated by muscle activity or movement). I suppose one could say that it’s like using the Force to stretch out with your feelings and know exactly where each part of your body is in relation to the other and in relation to the ground, or sky, or objects around you. Barefoot running touts better proprioception as a huge benefit, as you become more aware of how you connect with the ground, and because the muscles, nerves, and tendons in your feet are awakened as if from a deep sleep - a deep sleep caused from having 20mm of EVA foam underneath them to numb your awareness and put your feet into a sensory deprivation tank that are known as shoes…or “foot coffins” to some hardcore barefooters.

In applying this concept to running in general, it didn’t seem too important to me initially, compared with something like gymnastics or Parkour, where if you hurdle yourself through the air without being aware of your exact trajectory, you’re gonna seriously wreck yourself. After more contemplation, however, it made perfect sense, especially when thinking about trail running, ultrarunning, and biomechanics. Having an awareness of where your body is and how it moves will give you a tool to make you more efficient, help you to overcome deficiencies in form, and when used as a focus in training, can make you stronger. One way to achieve this is through specific balance training.

There are plenty of products out there to help improve your balance, like the Bongo or Indo Board, bosu balls, and the like, but you don’t need to buy anything to improve your balance and proprioception. You just need…well, you. Throughout my ten years as a Nordic skiing coach, I’ve realized that the top culprit of bad technique comes primarily from poor balance and a lack of trust in one’s ability to bear their entire bodyweight on one leg, while also careening down the trail. Luckily for runners, this isn’t quite as challenging, but careening down mountain trails will require just as much agility and surefootedness. In any case, spending more time on one ski when paired with direct technique instruction helped my skiers improve, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted them to have better balance before even getting on skis, so I developed this simple balance drill.

It may not seem like much, but try it and you’ll see that it’s harder than it looks, especially if you’re focusing on doing it right. If you spend at least 10 seconds in each position, you’re standing on one leg for more than two minutes. The beauty of this drill is that it can be modified in many ways and can be done virtually anywhere. I even do the simpler positions while brushing my teeth. Additionally, if you’re paying attention, you can start to feel where your body and center of gravity are. By shifting your weight forward onto the ball of the foot, or backward onto the heel, for example, you’ll feel what works better for balance, or what may challenge various muscle groups more. The same goes for leaning from side to side. By engaging the hips and pelvis and attempting to “lift” your body upwards as much as possible and keeping your legs straight without locking your knees, you’re working on balance and good posture, all the while taxing and strengthening the little muscles in your feet and calves. This can also be a good way to figure out where you might have imbalances in various muscle groups.

As you can see, I also included some extra drills for adding strength into the mix. These are more advanced, and I would recommend doing them on flat ground and/or wider surfaces first before moving on to rounded rails and such. Having good squat and pistol form on stable ground, in my opinion, trumps doing them poorly on a railing (like I did in the video). Other ways you can switch up your balance training include:

- try doing as much of the original drill with your heel raised. It’s friggin' hard!

- roll your center of balance around the edges of your foot, almost as if doing ankle rolls while standing on that foot

- Add a slosh tube for additional instability. If you can do the flying camel with a slosh tube, you’ll officially be my hero (vid or it didn’t happen).

- Find a way to measure how high you can raise your leg and strive to raise it higher

- try hopping in place in any of the various positions

- find some wobbly surfaces – or “wiggle rocks” as my niece refers to them - to use as your platform

Above all, when doing these drills, RELAX THE FOOT! Ultimately you should be doing these barefoot or in minimal shoes, so that your foot can relax and expand, thereby activating and strengthening the various muscles and tendons. Your feet will get stronger and will thank you for it. Good luck, and add a comment below with any questions or additional ideas. I’m always looking for ways to improve this drill.

IOC Approves Ultrarunning as Demonstration Sport for 2016

2012-08-04T23:07:00.000-07:00

NOTE: This blog is intended to provoke thought and dialogue, and not to mock my readers nor alienate myself from them. I have, therefore, edited my initial post to be more forthright.

It's a grabbing title, isn't it? Indulge me in a bit of dreaming on a curious little journey through the looking glass, if you will. A timely article, combining two great interests of mine to consider one possibility. Check it out.

"Now that the 2012 London Olympics are at the half-way point and the track and field events are underway, the IOC officially announced early this morning that since deliberations beginning last November they have approved several demonstration sports for the 2016 Games in Rio de Janeiro. Whereas demonstration sports have officially existed since 1912, including the likes of baseball, volleyball, and stranger varieties such as kaatsen - a form of handball, they were suspended after the Barcelona Games in 1992, because the IOC felt that it could not maintain the growing program size and still give the demonstration sports their due attention. Due to a spike in revenue generated through broadcasting and advertising bids from the Winter Olympics in Vancouver and for these London Games, along with a growing number of nations participating for the first time, demonstration sports will be allowed once again in 2016.

Included in the debate as to which sports would receive demonstration status were both the NOC for these London Olympics as well as the NOC for the Rio Games. Representatives of SportAccord and various IFs, along with the NOC committee members, were able to agree on three new sports to showcase: Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, ultimate frisbee, and trail ultrarunning.

[...cut out the first two and get to the point...]

Most notable in this trio is trail ultrarunning, the newest of the three and perhaps the most difficult to organize and conduct consistently around the world. Ultrarunning races constitute any distance beyond a marathon, usually in the distances of 50km, 50 miles, 100km, and 100 miles, and are often separated into road ultras and trail ultras. Because the traditional Olympic marathon is a road race, the decision was made to focus on the trail ultra, as it offers an additional degree of technical difficulty, as well as a unique setting for the spectator. The main concern of the IOC, however, is how to choose an appropriate course that will meet the criteria of an Olympic venue for the athlete, as well as the accessibility needs for monitoring and spectating.

Interestingly enough is how this sport came to the attention of the IOC. In fact, there were three key individuals involved, starting with Welsh-born Steve Jones, former world record holder in the marathon and winner of the London, Chicago, and New York marathons in the 1980's. Settling in Boulder, Colorado just a few years ago, Jones began training at altitude, ramping up his distance on trails in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains in order to prepare for a comeback to the Chicago marathon. In a chance meeting on the trail, Jones came across the second important figure in this story, ultrarunner legend Scott Jurek. The two instantly hit it off. Jurek, seven-time winner of the Western States 100-Mile Endurance Run in California and victor at a slew of other ultras in the US including the Badwater Ultramarathon - a 135-mile test through Death Valley, also resides in Boulder and continues to train and share his knowledge with others through his new book Eat & Run. After only a few runs together on the trails near Boulder, Jones was convinced that ultrarunning is the next frontier in distance running. Although Jones had no plans to personally commit to distances of 50 miles or more at the age of 56, he was, however, enamored with the idea of ultrarunning and the grit and determination of ultrarunners, a trait at the core of his own being. With the London Games approaching and an inspiring new sport in mind, Jones decided to utilize his connections to see what might happen.

Enter the third individual in this story, American marathon icon Frank Shorter. Winning the gold medal in the marathon in 1972 and the silver in 1976, Shorter was inducted into the Olympic Hall of Fame in 1984 and was instrumental in helping to establish the United States Anti-Doping Agency in 1999. Also residing in Boulder, Shorter has had close ties with Jones even before Jones moved to Boulder, and it could be argued that Shorter was part of the reason that Jones moved to Boulder in the first place. For the last 4 years, Shorter has been a representative of the IOC through the IAAF which represents all track and field and cross country events in the Olympic Games. Having both experience and influence, it was Shorter who brought ultrarunning to the Olympic stage, only after Jones badgered him about it for months. Indeed, it seems that Boulder, Colorado is not only a multinational town with strong running tendencies, but it also carries some clout around the world.

The challenge now is to determine a venue for the event in Rio. Representatives have already agreed that 100km will be the distance for the event and they are currently seeking out an appropriate trail system in the Serra do Mar mountains of the Brazilian Highlands as a venue. The IOC is also working now with the IAAF which sanctions the IAU - the International Association of Ultrarunners - to determine appropriate qualifying races for the event in Rio. The decision will be made sometime by the end of 2013."

Sound convincing? This could be huge news, with even greater implications for the ultrarunning community, if it were true, of course.

"What dude?"

Whereas many of the details of history, people, and places are true, the connections were of my own making. I have no idea if Steve Jones, Frank Shorter, and Scott Jurek know each other personally, although they all do live in Boulder, and according to one article, Jones has at least loose connections to the Bolder Boulder, a race that Shorter created in 1979. To my knowledge, there is no talk of reviving demonstration sports in the Olympics, nor is Shorter an IOC representative. Unfortunately for me it's not April Fool's Day, so consider this my "Douche Move of the Day" by leading you on, but I did it to elicit an honest visceral response, and to pose the following questions: what was your initial gut response to this, and what would this mean for the ultrarunning community if ultrarunning were to become an Olympic sport? There has already been a great deal of talk in the ultra community ie. on the Interwebs about the growth of ultrarunning and the potential ruination of the sport once prize money and advertising creep in to crush the simple, for-the-love-of-it attitude that many of the older veterans speak of. I'm certainly no veteran ultrarunner, and in fact I'm not even an ultrarunner, at least not yet, but I am interested in the debate nonetheless as a trail runner and aspiring ultrarunner who has great interest in both the sport and the people involved in it. I have thus kept up with the debate on this subject, and with the Olympics going on, wondered how this might play in to the sport.

In any case, I'd be very curious to know what the ultrarunning community thinks of this idea, if it's in the same category as the impending degradation of the sport that some speak of, or if it would be a positive growth factor. The Olympics, after all, are a place for non-professional athletes to come together and compete on the world stage, at least in most cases (basketball not included). Could this be similar to the race atmosphere in Europe, and would the Europeans be more open to ultrarunning in the Olympics? As we all know, athlete sponsorship is huge in regard to access to training facilities, coaching, and other financially-dependent aspects of competition, and in some cases it can make or break an athlete's chances. We certainly haven't seen that yet in the sport of ultrarunning, but where there is NBC and Coke and Nike, it could mean a drastic change in the atmosphere and even the fundamental nature of the sport, and this is but one issue to be considered. But could it ever happen?

Enjoy the contemplation, and all comments and debate are welcome; that is, if I haven't alienated you all with my misleading fiction. Cheers!

You Know You're Having Fun, Right?

2012-07-06T06:01:00.000-07:00

Greetings from ''ze Vaterland!'' I'm here in Rottweil, Germany (indeed the home of the Rottweiler dog) leading a school exchange group for four weeks, which always makes for a great adventure, and also leads to a sometimes unpredictable schedule and compromised exercise routine. The running has been spotty at best, but I've been on the move since I got here and can honestly say that when it comes to walking and hiking, I'm super fit. I've had great ''feet time'' so far, especially with a week-long excursion to Munich last week that was packed full of on-the-go adventure. I am, however, becoming concerned about my running fitness, seeing as I've gained 5 pounds, mostly in the middle from all the bread, cheese, and ice cream I've consumed, and haven't been able to run due to another foot injury, this time while playing soccer in my Merrell barefoot shoes with a group of competitive German ''ballers'' in cleats and full soccer garb. It was a ton of fun, but I do regret playing as long as I did after getting stepped on with cleats, which brings me to the point of this entry.

That afternoon of soccer and the following consequences reminded me of my climbing trip in the Black Hills at the end of May, and a concept that was explained to us by friends and fellow climbing couple Kate and Jason. At first it was simply a phrase that they used with each other after completing a climb or an activity, said quickly and almost under their breath; ''Type 2.'' After inquiring, they outlined their typology of fun, which became one of the main inside jokes of the trip. Without further ado, here are the two types of fun:

Type I Fun - This is the typical definition we use for fun, when you can say either during the activity or shortly after that it was a blast, and that you'd do it again in a heartbeat. It might be a cool party, a waterslide, or simply catching up with old friends. The possibilities are endless, but you know that it's fun from the start and it continues to be fun while you're doing it.

Type II Fun - Whereby Type I Fun is obvious, Type II can be more elusive, and the perception of it may change over time. This is an activity that might be scary, stressful, or harrowing at the time, but once completed and after some contemplation, the person realizes how cool it was and therefore labels the adventure as fun. A great example of this would be the drive back to our campsite at Sylvan Lake from Blue Bell Lodge on an extremely foggy night during our aforementioned climbing trip. Having missed the turn to get back on the highway, we ended up driving the wildlife loop through Custer State Park, which is an incredibly winding, hilly, narrow road through the park, where no light from any town or city invades, nor are there any street lights. Visibility was no more than 15 feet in front of the car, which made the drive incredibly slow and extremely eery. Even at 20mph, coming up over a hill felt as if we were launching up into nothingness, and combined with the sudden unseen curves in the road, it felt much like this. Although it was scary at the time (especially for me since I was driving), it made for a fun adventure once we arrived safely at camp, thus Type II.

After contemplating the kicken as my German colleague refers to it, the soccer itself was a ton of fun, but the injury was not, and it continues to cause me trouble. It was certainly Type I, but the consequences require a subcategory, Type Ib - immediate fun with negative consequences. This is common for me, and I would imagine for many competitive people, who go all out during an activity and pay for it the next day or for an extended period thereafter with soreness or injury. This might also include people who love to party hard, and wake up to a hangover the next morning feeling like death warmed over (which is something I've never understood). It's the fun that causes you to contemplate if it was worth it or not. For me, I'm on the fence with that soccer game. It was definitely fun to play again, especially in Germany with people who love, understand, and play the game well, but now that I don't trust my foot on long runs, my training - and subsequent fun - has been compromised, and I'm not sure if it was worth it.

In closing, it should also be mentioned that the best adventures in life are often Type II Fun. Referring back to end of this post from last April in which I defined what an adventure is in my mind, most of what makes an adventure are things that are scary or unknown, and only after conquering fears and the unknown do we recognize how much fun it is. To me, this is the ultimate in fun, as it has more personal meaning and a lasting impact on both psyche and memory. As final food-for-thought, I propose that adventure athletes have the most fun in life, combining positive risk-taking with the huge benefits of physical activity, thus combining the joy of accomplishment, a healthy lifestyle, and the outcome of Type II Fun.

Tip O' The Day
Should you find yourself in a potential Type II Fun setting with friends, you might consider breaking the immediate tension with some humor from the animal kingdom as we did. Having two veterinarians on the trip, we weren't without our share of animal facts, and this one always provided a laugh when well-timed, on the crux of a hard climb, for example. Apparently, when alpaca get nervous, they hum. If there are many about, it becomes a sort of call-and-response to alert each other. Here's an example to help you out. Use wisely and enjoy!

Superior Trail Races 25km

2012-06-24T06:51:00.000-07:00

Photo Eve Stein

Well, it's been more than a month since the race and more than that since my last post. So much for the one-post-a-week goal I set for myself. The adventure season has truly begun, and there is less time to sit and collect my thoughts as I would like, but I shall take the time now to pin down this incredible experience in a bit of detail, so here goes...

I am a changed man. I knew this race would be fun, but it's now clear that I am built for trail running. Not only did I enjoy it a helluva lot more than any road running I've ever done, but it's also much easier on my body. Let me back up for a moment to give more insight into the latter statement.

Leading up to this race, my expectations were relatively low. After the half marathon at the end of April, I had a mysterious pain in my right foot which gave the threat of stress fracture. My doc told me to take at least 3 weeks off to let it heal, just in case it was, and guess how many weeks it was until the trail race? You guessed it, three exactly. It sucked that I injured myself in the warm-up for the important race, but one must adjust and adapt in such situations. After seeing the doc, however, the little bit of manipulation he did while checking my foot acted as massage, and the next morning I felt great! I waited a bit still until I started running again, just to be sure, so in the week before the race, I managed to get out twice to run on trails. It was at least nice to know things were back to normal, even if I didn't get the chance to train properly. I consider it an ''extended taper.''

The wife and I headed out on what was a lovely Friday afternoon, excited for a mini-vacation. We picked up friend and talented ultrarunner Samuel Jurek in Hinckley, not without a pause at Tobie's bakery to get doughnuts and coffee of course. It was great to catch up with Sam, especially on such a beautiful drive to the North Shore, pulling in to the Caribou Highlands Lodge parking lot around 8pm. We were lucky enough that Anna's family had come up to watch the race and cheer us on, and her brother Jerod managed to pick up our race packets for us, since we arrived after packet pick-up had ended. One less thing to worry about on race morning. We unloaded everything in our room, had a short walk outside to see the start/finish, and chilled out in the room until bedtime. I had a good long foam rolling session, which will undoubtedly be pre-race tradition from here on out.

I woke up suddenly around 5am to the 120db alarm on Sam's cell phone. Since he was running the 50K, his start was at 7am, and ours not until 9:00, so it was a bit unsettling, but I managed to fall back asleep for a while longer. I did, however, get up in enough time to see the lad off on his own adventure. From what he had relayed to me, his strategy was to stick with the leaders as long as possible, particularly Chris Lundstrom, the former champion and course record holder. If nothing else, Sam would impose his grand stature and balls-out running strategy on the other racers enough to shake up the crowd in front.

The Man in Black, Sam Jurek

After listening to the RD give his spiel and watching the 50k-ers take off, it was time for breakfast! We brought with us a sizeable container of homemade granola, expertly crafted by my awesome wife in the first week of her newfound freedom as a recent graduate from vet school. Complete with yogurt and banana, this has proven to be the perfect pre-race fuel for me, although it must be eaten at least 1.5 hours before the race, as it's a bit heavy. A quick shower and some relaxing, and it was time to suit up. When I got up to see Sam off, it was already quite pleasant outside, proving that it would definitely be a shorts and t-shirt day, with little worry about clothing choice. Additionally, I would take with me my Fuel Belt with two gels and some Aquaphor - should I run into any foot problems, and Anna's old Camelbak Water Pro with about 3/4 liter water, which has proven to be an awesome long run companion: it fits well, doesn't bounce much, and gives me the comfort in knowing I have plenty of water. On my feet I wore my Merrel Trail Gloves and a new pair of Injinji No-Show toe socks, which have proven to protect my feet from blisters on the trails.Of course, suncscreen was liberally applied as well, despite the assumption that we would be in the cover of the forest for most of the race. The sun and hot weather affect me greatly, particularly when sunburned, so I was taking no chances.

To the start! Anna's family was there waiting for us, and it was nice to know that we had some ''fans'' to cheer us on. I suppose it helps to know that in a way I was performing for someone, and not just for myself. I spent some time obsessing over the tying of my shoes, wanting to be sure it was perfect, although the timing chip that I had tied in was a little awkward with such minimal shoes, and I knew then that I hadn't done a thorough enough job of attaching it and would probably lose it along the trail somewhere, yet I didn't take the time to fix it. The time was tight, so I decided not to worry about it. We also applied some bug spray, mostly to ward off ticks, but the DEET was so strong that it melted the plastic on my shoes! After retying them (for the third time?), my hands were coated in black plastic! Gross.

Once again, the RD gave us the rundown of the race, and as I was listening, I wondered how many others might be racing in minimal footwear, a question I always ask myself, because I'm curious to know how popular it's becoming. As I looked down, the guy next to me had Trail Gloves on, and a few feet away there was a guy in Five Fingers and another in huarache sandals! It seems that minimalism is indeed popular. I wondered how we would all fare on this trail that I had never seen before.

The start was relatively relaxed. We headed out on the service road past the skilifts, where it turned to gravel road, in total perhaps 3/4 of a mile, before it turned onto an access trail that led up to the Superior Hiking Trail proper. Because I hadn't truly warmed up, my heart was racing a little bit from nerves and the energy of the crowd around me. It was interesting to see a few people carrying no water whatsoever, as if they were out for a leisurely 5k road run, when in fact we'd be running 7.5 miles of gnarly, isolated trail until the only aid station at the turnaround, and then the same thing on the way back. I can't imagine they were feeling too good after the first 4 miles or so. Anyway, once on the actual SHT (be careful how you read that), I realized quickly that I was going faster than I'd like, but couldn't quite get myself to slow down. I was running with the crowd and didn't want to be an obstacle for people to pass, so I figured that I just needed some time to warm up and calm down, which usually can take 20-30 minutes for me nowadays. Most people around me were still feeling chipper and were chatting along the way. I focused on running well at the beginning and staying as relaxed as possible, but the trail was both rolling and technical from the start, so I was constantly dodging rocks and roots, which became much easier after I was warmed up.

It wasn't until after the first 2 miles or so when I was finally in rhythm enough to start passing people with confidence. I got stuck behind a long line of guys on a rocky uphill, the last of whom was wearing NB Minimus Trails, so I figured I was in good company for the time being. Once at the top, I started making my way forward and eventually passed them. At this point, we had reached the top of Mystery Mountain, which then stretched out into about a mile of smooth downhill switchback. Most people were taking it slow down the hill, and I couldn't quite understand why, as it was easy trail and not so steep that one must focus too much, so I decided to make a big move and open 'er up. It was a little crazy passing people off trail in the tall grass, hoping that there was nothing hiding there to destroy my feet, but I must have passed 20 people or so in that section alone, cruising comfortably downhill, really using my hips to open up a comfortable yet extended gait, and it worked brilliantly. Along the way I passed the guy I saw at the start wearing huarache sandals. He was now totally barefoot! I gave him major props and continued cruising downhill. My experiment was successful and I felt great when I hit the bottom. I also managed to put myself into a gap between runners, so I could run comfortably at my own pace and not have to focus on the feet of the runner directly in front of me, which quite literally can be nauseating.

Photo Eve Stein

Still feeling good

After a while I caught up with the next group, which consisted mostly of women, one of whom I recognized. It was Jan Guenther, owner of Gear West Bike and Ski, and former women's Birkebeiner champion! If I'm not mistaken, she has also won the 25km once or twice for the women, so I knew that I was in decent standing at the moment. Several other women were wearing ski fanny packs, and it occurred to me that there must be a fair number of Nordic skiers who run trails in the off-season. In any case, it was at this point that we hit the climb up Moose Mountain, the steepest section of the whole race. There was at least one part where it was necessary to grab on to the trees to help get up the hill. I felt that although it was steep, the runners ahead weren't going fast enough, so I hopped up around a few of them and continued on, only to regret it a bit further up when I realized that it was a long climb and the bit of passing had cost me some energy. By the time we got to the top, they all took off and I was sucking wind in a slow jog for a few meters. Live and learn.

It's difficult for me to remember which sections of trail are where and in what order, but somewhere in here I took my first gel, at about 45 minutes. After a smoother section of trail at the top of Moose, the roots and rocks became more prominent, and I felt like I was dancing my way through the forest rather than running. It felt smooth and quick, however, and I don't feel like it slowed me down, at least not on the way out. At some point in this next section my right shoe felt loose, and I looked down to see that my timing chip was gone, just as I had predicted. It wasn't worth going back to look for it, so I continued on, not worrying if I would have an official time or not. By this time the 50k-ers began blowing by in the opposite direction on their way to the finish. Immediately I began looking for Sam, hoping that he was at least top five, and sure enough, as I stopped to retie my shoe, he ran by in 4th place looking decent, but with some tension in his face. More on that later.

Further on down the trail, there's a flatter section with plank walkways stretching across wet sections, making it a little awkward to deal with the opposing traffic. At one point on a slight downhill curve, a 50k-er came right through the middle and I nearly ran off the steep edge of the trail, plummeting to my doom.Thankfully I recovered with some flailing of arms and tiptoeing in the soft dirt along the edge, making sure from then on to find sure footing when others came by. (this section may have been later on after Rollins Creek, but I can't remember)

The descent down Moose Mountain was crazy, and I felt like I was stuck in a speeding car in San Francisco, heading down toward the ocean with no brakes. The trail was littered with big sharp rocks and gnarled roots, ready to devour the inattentive racer, and combined with the steepness it's enough to make one woozy. It was less stressing on the body to go fast, although keeping the eyes focused on the features of the trail at that speed was difficult, and a little scary. I wondered how long it could go on, hoping that my body would hold up and that I wouldn't catch a toe on a root or rock, throwing me down the mountain into what would probably be a bloody faceplant. Thankfully, I'm good at pushing those thoughts out of my head quickly and I remained focused until I finally reached the bottom, crossing the bridge at Rollins Creek, then heading into the last climb until the aid station. This is where I started feeling a little sluggish, especially now with a steady stream of both 50k-ers and 25k-ers heading back toward the finish. At one bend in the trail, I recognized a runner coming toward me. It was Grant Nelson, current Duluth resident with whom I skied at the U of MN quite a few years ago. Just as I remembered him, he was incredibly friendly as we passed each other, all while he was kicking ass (he came in 16th place overall).

Surely I must be close to the aid station, I thought. Down some wide steps and onto a wider gravel path, and sure enough, I hit the road into the Oberg Mountain AS. Anna's family were the first people I saw at the edge of the AS, taking photos and rooting me on. As I stopped at the food table, I checked my watch - 1:13:00! I was two minutes ahead of my highest goal! That was good, but I knew at that moment that I had run way too fast in the first half, and that the second half would be some serious work. A salted potato, some Heed, a Twizzler, and a refill of water and gels and I was off again in just three minutes, thanking the volunteer who helped me get that dang Camelbak open, as my hands were too sweaty to untwist the cap. Waving to Anna's family once again, I headed out, realizing only once I hit the trail that I had forgotten to suck the air out of the Camelbak as it sloshed around and bounced something fierce. I fixed the problem and took off.

It's not polite to blog with your mouth full.

Enter the long lonely climb of loneliness! Heading back up the steps was murderous. Not having digested my food yet, my body was not ready for such a steep and brutal climb. I checked my pulse, and even walking it was at 190! Uff. A 50k-er came up from behind me and passed me, only to stop a little way up the path to puke. I asked him if he needed anything, but he politely declined as he jumped in behind me for a while. Soon enough, however, he found his 2nd (3rd, 5th, 8th?) wind and took off.

The whole second half of the race is mostly a blur. I was by myself for the majority of the time, aside from meeting people in the opposite direction. Heading back down toward Rollins Creek I heard my name and looked up to see my lovely wife with a big smile on her face and moving swiftly. A quick high-five and some words exchanged and that was that. I was happy to have run in to her so soon after the AS, which meant that she was doing much better than she had originally planned. It also appeared that she had found a trail buddy who she was chatting up as I passed them. From then on it was a grind, and only vague memories of the trail. Surprisingly, it went rather quickly. Along one of the more rolling stretches, a woman caught up to me and we played the I-pass-you-you-pass-me game for a while, keeping each other in check. A guy friend of hers was running with her, but having some trouble and was further back. At one point when she was behind me, she started singing this song, which immediately started playing on the Brain iPod. I told her that I now had it in my head, and we agreed that it was a good song for pacing. Soon after that we reached the last major climb of the race, the climb up Mystery mountain and the switchbacks that treated me so well on the way out, but now decided to cash out on my karma points and grind me into pulp. I took another gel and tried to run as much as possible, but I must have walked 90% of it, even on the slight uphills. My heart was racing again, and the legs just wouldn't go. Whereas the previous four or five miles seemed to pass without notice, this stretch lasted for an eternity. Several runners passed me, most of whom I had passed well before the AS. What will I add to the training regime before the next race? Hills!

Once down Mystery, the access trail seemed to jump out at me, and I couldn't believe I was almost out the woods (literally). I passed a few families goofing around on the access trail who cheered me on, and then it was out into the open. Pavement. Blip! My right hamstring shot out a quick threat of cramping, and then again, blip...the left calf.

''Crap! I can't cramp now, I'm too close!''

With all of the focus I could muster, I concentrated on my form. Hips, abs, relaxed feet. Although the climbs on the way back were brutal, this was definitely the most painful part of the race. The road stretched on and on, and I felt slower with every step, until the glory that is the path to the finish appeared. I dipped down and around the pool and crossed the line. I quickly informed the timer that I had lost my chip, and he recorded my number and time. Done!

Anna's family met me at the finish and fetched me a beverage while I sat down in the shade and tried to avoid cramping. Final time - 2:42:51 in 64th place out of 291 runners. Despite the relative blow-up in the second half, I was pleased with my time.

Wandering through the crowd, I found Sam, shirtless and barefoot in fine Sam fashion. In discussing his race, he had led until mile 24, but due to an error with drop bags, his hydration pack did not show up at any of the aid stations, and he was forced to run the last 7 miles with only a water bottle, which he emptied quickly and spent the last 4 or 5 miles in less than stellar condition, thus the tense face when I saw him run by. Chalk it up to the unpredictable measures at races, and I'd say he still did awesome.

After some post-race chili, I ran into Anna's friend from vet school and her boyfriend, and we chatted in the shade for a while, only to find out that Anna had just crossed the line! I ran over to meet her and we celebrated a successful race for both of us.

Post-race Celebrations included: several dips in the hot tub, beer, a delectable meal at the lodge restaurant, and more time in the hot tub. The next day provided more of the same, and it was then when I realized that I am a trail racer. I had no major soreness at all! All in all, it was a thoroughly successful weekend with great weather and immense fun.

Overall this was an amazing experience. The weather was awesome, perhaps even too warm (70's and sunny), it was great to see Sam and race in the company of both him and my wife, and for a first experience on the SHT, I can say that I'm now hooked, on this trail and with this race series. I'm stoked for the fall and my first marathon!

To give you an idea of the course, here's the elevation chart. Not bad for a trail race in the Midwest.

If you're interested in the race series and want more info, check out the website - www.superiortrailraces.com

And now for the evaluation...

GRADES:

Fitness - B-

Despite the lack of running in the 3 weeks before the race, I was quite happy with what I accomplished, although I realized that I had trained way too much for the road race in April and not nearly enough hills and trails. Glute work and hills will definitely be part of the training regiment from here on out.

Mental Toughness - A-

Although I certainly hit some rough spots, I remained positive and determined throughout. I need to experiment more with my limits, however, to see if I could have run more of the parts I walked.

Pacing - C

The first half was definitely better than the second. I did, however, realize from the start that I was going too fast and would pay for it later. One can expect times to get slower as the race progresses, so perhaps it wasn't all bad that I had a quicker first half, but the splits show a drastic difference between first and second half.

Hydration/Nutrition - B+

I was relatively disciplined with hydration and nutrition, keeping an eye on my watch to take gels, and remembering often to sip on the Camelbak. The only thing I missed toward the end would have been an S Cap, as I was retaining water and had a mild bit of ''sloshgut''. Had I just one S Cap, the threat of cramping also would not have occurred, so I shall invest in some for the next race. The fine-tuning will simply improve through more experience. I had never run this distance or terrain before, thus I'm happy with how I managed these issues with little experience.

Mechanics - A
I had no soreness the next day, and I managed to ward off the cramps at the finish through good form. There is always room for improvement, but on this day, I nailed it.

Earth Day Half Marathon, St. Cloud, MN

2012-05-05T21:47:00.000-07:00

My first race report! Don't get your hopes up, folks, there are no car chases, nude scenes, or excessive drug use, but there may be occasional signs of rock n' roll.

Anyway, it's taken me two weeks now to get this done, as life has been moving as steadily as the race, and just now do I have time to sit down and contemplate my longest race yet, so here goes...

The wife and I drove up to St. Cloud on Friday afternoon so that we would have time to relax, get a good night's sleep, and be close to the race start in the morning. We went straight to the St. Cloud State campus to get our race packets and check out the expo in the main gym of the field house/rec center. It was nothing to write home about, but I finally got the chance to see what zumba was. Not impressed frankly, and more importantly, it was the dinner hour, and there's no better excuse to eat ginormous burgers than to fuel for a race the next day, so we made our way to Granite City Food and Brewery, a small chain restaurant that started in St. Cloud aka Granite City (there's a huge quarry there). Although the beer brewed in-house looked incredibly tempting, we decided to abstain for prudent reasons, but concluded that we would return after the race for more delicious meat comas that would include beer.

Our hotel was surprisingly nice. We had a quaint little apartment-style room at the Grand Residence Inn, complete with kitchenette! Initially, two of Anna's friends were going to crash with us to help us all save on costs, but one of them DNS'ed due to an injury, and the other decided to drive up the morning of. I won't complain, because it was awesome having a quiet room to ourselves to just chill out and relax. A little Animal Planet on the boob tube (a rare occurrence for me), and an extended session of foam rolling put me right with the world, and provided for an awesome night's sleep.

In the week leading up to the race, I had felt really anxious and nervous, mostly due to one factor - the weather! Although I had been training consistently, it still didn't prepare me well enough for race day attire. The forecast was predicting high 30's/low 40's at race start and a high of only around 50, but also a 70% chance of rain. Never having run 13 miles before, it was hard to gauge how I might feel in 40-degree rain. Come race morning, it was cloudy and cold as predicted, but no rain yet. I decided on my Under Armour short sleeve with a lightweight synthetic long-sleeve and my windpants. As soon as I got out of the car on campus, however, I decided that I needed shorts. Nylon windpants get really annoying when sweaty and/or wet against the skin. That turned out to be a good decision. I was on the fence about ditching the short sleeve shirt, but kept it on in my pre-race indecision. In all of my obsessing about clothing, however, I still failed, as you'll find out later.

We hung out a bit before the start inside the rec center entrance, where we ran into the wonderful Andrew E., one of Anna's college friends. I had run in to him at the race last year when I was cheering for Anna and he was cheering for his sister. We were all back again this year, only that my role changed from cheer squad to racer. It was nice to know that we'd have at least one person out there rooting for us.

With about ten minutes to start, we made our way outside to toe the line. The start was on the road, just before the bridge that crosses the Mississippi. There are huge concrete walls on either side as it carves through the campus, with a footbridge above it connecting one side of the chasm with the other. The bridge and fenceline along the walls were packed with spectators, and there was an almost gladiator-like feeling being on the road below, walled in by concrete and spectators who were all waiting for carnage (ok, so I'm overly dramatic here, but it sounds cool). I found my place at the start, in between the pacer signs for 7:45 and 8:00 minute mile times. I wanted to start conservatively and run consistently, gaining speed if possible. My goal was simply to finish at an 8min mile pace or under. As I did a few skips to get loosened up, I noticed a few people staring at me and pointing me out to their friends. Yup, I'm the weird guy in "those toe shoes." Since I had done all my training in Five Fingers, it just made sense to do the race in them. Frankly, I was excited for the adventure and the challenge. After the stress of the week, I was calm and relaxed, and ready to enjoy the morning exploring new territory.

We were off! It wasn't terribly crowded, but people weren't too fast to get out. One guy next to me was having some serious phlegm issues, which he turned into an over-exaggerated joke that goaded his three buddies to chime in with perfect loogie-hawking harmony. Another guy next to me said, "Ok, only 13 more miles to go!" I smiled, knowing that I was feeling good, the weather was solid for racing, and I was totally ready for the adventure. I ran an easy pace, focusing on settling in with good form, and I noticed that I was passing a fair number of runners. It appeared that I started a little too far back. I kept myself in check, to make sure that I wasn't going out too fast. Heart rate? Good. Breathing? Relaxed. Cool.

The course, albeit mostly flat, was decently diverse. The first 3 miles were along the road in an open area, with the river on one side and residential neighborhood on the other, before dropping down a short steep grassy hill through a park to cross back under the river bridge. On the hill, I rolled up next to a guy whose stride I can only describe as peppy and bopping. He noticed my shoes and said in a Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure voice; "Hey, you're wearing those toe shoes! Cool!" We had a decent chat, and he seemed to be having a total blast. We then hit the first water station, where I suddenly realized that I suck at drinking and running at the same time! How do you drink from a paper cup and keep running? I slowed a little to get a few gulps in, as I wanted to maintain good hydration at the start so that I could hit it harder in the second half. Bill and Ted Guy was gone, chatting up the next nearest runner, although just a few steps later I saw Andrew. In fine dork fashion, I gave him my best exaggerated wave, and he managed to snap this picture (and no, my gait doesn't normally look like this).

Hi everybody!

The next part of the course was beautiful, heading along the river in the other direction. Lined with lush green trees and various gardens, the crisp smell of spring was invigorating, although by this point (mile 4) I was totally roasting and needed to remove a layer. Since my number was attached to my long sleeve, I decided to remove the t-shirt underneath. It was still cold enough to want long sleeves at times anyway. As we were filtered up into the neighborhood, I began my undertaking. I managed to get the t-shirt off without totally removing the long sleeve, but draping the tee over my fuel belt in the back proved to be more of a chore. I wanted to make sure it wouldn't fall out, and with partially numb hands (it always happens when I run in cooler weather, even with gloves), it took me way too much effort to attach it so that it would stay and so that I was comfortable. We were coming upon the bridge once again to cross back over the river, and I was hoping that Andrew would have made it up top to meet us, but alas, he was still underneath waiting for his sister. No deposit of the problem shirt!

Fantastic hair - Bozo the Clown or guy from Prodigy?

Crossing the bridge, the course winds up and through campus proper - a complete change of scenery from the first five miles. After looping out and around, passing a few groups of guys on their front porches watching the race and enjoying an early morning bit of "liquid bread," and finally heading back under the bridge on the campus side, I caught up to - and passed - the 7:38 mile pacer! I was a little surprised, but I was feeling good, and didn't feel that I was overdoing it, so off I went. Down the hill and past the stadium and it was into the woods for me! The next stretch was the longest, along a paved trail in the woods skirting the river. It was lovely and secluded, but the pavement was rather rough, and it was starting to take a toll on my feet. There wasn't much in the way of a soft shoulder as with many trails, so I simply had to tough it out. The rain also kicked in here, although not so heavy that it was noticeable. It was around mile seven when I noticed a pack of people starting to pass me. I was definitely slowing down. I felt no specific pain, but the legs weren't turning over as quickly, and it became clear that I needed some fuel. By the time I had decided that I needed gel soon, I passed an AS where people were handing them out. The only flavor I heard mentioned from the volunteers, however, was peanut butter. Yech! I love peanut butter, but not during a race, and certainly not in gel form. I decided to forego this round and just took water. I had two gels with me in my fuel belt, one of which I planned to consume in between this previous AS and the next, just in time to get water to wash it down. With aid stations every two miles, it wasn't long to wait, and yet once the thought of gel entered my mind, waiting seemed impossible and my body starting screaming for it. I downed one, and only after that did I notice that I still had at least a mile to go until water. Thankfully, it didn't give me the "Papa John's arid factor" that I had expected, but actually tasted quite nice.

Ye ol' legs started to relax a bit and feel strong again, just as we headed out of the woods and back onto the road into the neighborhood. I was initially under the impression that this was going to be an out-and-back along the river, but the stretch into the neighborhood took forever! It was here that the 7:38 pacer guy and his small entourage passed me up, and quite quickly at that. Apparently I wasn't feeling as good as I thought. I ran mostly by myself for the first part, focusing on getting myself back in form and rolling smoothly to prepare for the last three miles. Somewhere in the middle of the neighborhood, a racer passed me who I had remembered passing right at the start: white running tank with a t-shirt underneath, beanie, and gloves. I decided to try and hang on with the guy and see if I could "draft" for a bit. As we hit spectators again, everyone started cheering for him. "Go Lisa, you're doing great!" Oh, he is a she. Oops. Because she had short hair and a rather masculine physique, I had mistaken her for a guy. In any case, she became my short-term goal, rival, and new best friend. I passed her up and zoomed on ahead for a bit, then she passed me again, and we continued this pattern a few more times. I could tell that she had used me as a goal as well. So that's how it's gonna be, huh? Let's do this!

We FINALLY got out of that damn neighborhood, climbing one of maybe three hills in the whole race and then hooked right onto the road. I caught up with Lisa again, and decided to roll with her for a while. "You're quite popular," I said, hoping to start a conversation and enjoy our little running reparté, as it were. "It's from the River Runner's Club," she retorted in a somewhat annoyed tone. Clearly she had no interest in chit chat, and seemed annoyed that her competition would be so friendly to her. Ultimately she just seemed rather shy, so I decided to just run alongside her without speaking, just to see what she would do.

Shortly after turning onto the road, we hit the ten mile sign. Something inside of me snapped and I took off - not at a sprint, mind you, but at a "brisk" pace. I had decided early on that once I hit ten miles, regardless of how I felt, I would hit the last three with reckless abandon. "BFF Lisa" held pace with me, which inspired me even more. Intimate competition! We hit the last AS where she took water and I decided to just bomb through. Why take water with one mile left? Shortly after this I broke away from her, not to see her again until after the finish, and really started hammering. The course diverted from the main road and dipped down toward campus once again, and all I could see was that 7:38 pacer guy taunting me with his little blue sign and bounce in his step. I had to pass him! Reeling him in ever so slowly, I slid by him with about a quarter mile to go. Woohoo! At this point, I just wanted to finish strong and knew that whatever my time, it was well above my expectations. There was a girl up ahead who had passed me a while back after I had passed her at the start, and I made her my last goal of the race. She was kickin it to the finish with a decent pace and solid form. Her hot pink shorts also acted like a bright beacon in my delirium. Hammering as hard as I could, we rounded the corner and hooked sharply left into the stadium. At a dead sprint I passed her with about 5 yards to go, crossing the finish line on the artificial turf with a finish time of 1:39:00 even. Perhaps it was a dick thing to do to her right at the finish, but hey, it's a race.

I picked up my finishers medal and a couple bottles of water and did some mild stretching outside, watching the finishers come in. About 20 seconds behind me, Lisa crossed the line. I made a point to shake her hand and congratulate her, thanking her for the pacing challenge. She smiled a half-smile and had no other words besides thanks. Maybe she was sour because the weird toe-shoe guy beat her. C'est la vie.

Making my way into the field house, the pain set in. My right foot was quite sore, and the calves were a bit tight as well, so I sat down for just a few minutes and people-watched. An older female racer approached me and asked me about the shoes, and actually seemed both interested and appreciative of the online resources I recommended. Sitting felt really good, even on a hard plastic surface. Eventually I found a nice open spot in the corner of the gym to stretch. Keeping a close eye on my watch and guesstimating Anna's finish, I made my way back outside, hoping that I hadn't missed her. Holy crap was it cold out there! I had completely cooled down inside, and had gotten used to the nice indoor temperature. Waiting in the wings of the entry tunnel, shivering, I heard Anna's name called. I dashed out to meet her and see how it went. Both she and her running partner had done a flying superman across the finish, beating their goal time as well. We had our pic taken, and then I had to get back inside, because I was freezing!

We grabbed some post-race snackies, cleaned up, and headed for lunch. Back to Granite City for burgers and brew! My right foot was hurting more now, especially since I had crammed it into a narrow-toed tennis shoe, but the beer more than made up for it. With enough juicy meat magic and starchy fries goodness to counteract the beer, we headed home pleased. Because I sometimes geek out with interesting statistics, I'll show you the rundown of my first major race...

The Aftermath

I woke up the next morning with severe pain in my right foot. After a bit of prodding, I noticed that it was a small localized area in the middle of my 4th metatarsal - not a good thing. It hurt to walk on, and the pain continued throughout the day. In fact, it continued for a few days, causing me to worry that I had a stress fracture. It was certainly possible after 13 miles with only 3mm of rubber underfoot, but it would mean that I couldn't run the 25km on the Superior Hiking Trail in May, which is my main running goal for the season and the race I'm most excited for. With the day off, I saw the doc that Friday, and his orders were what I had feared. No running for at least three weeks, which was the exact amount of time before the 25km. There was no use in doing any scan, because nothing would prove a stress fracture except for an MRI, and that's too expensive, seeing as it wouldn't change the diagnosis.

Strangely, however, the next morning it felt great. The little bit of "massaging" the doc did as he checked things over seemed to help. That evening I took to my foot with a tennis ball, and it improved even more. Perhaps it's just a really messed-up muscle? I've given it a full two weeks now, with only one light bouldering session and a bike ride on Tuesday, and it's feeling good. It's not normal by any means, but I'm planning on some light trail running (no more pavement!) over the weekend to test it out. I haven't given up hope of actually racing the 25km, so keep your fingers crossed!

All things considered, my official evaluation is as follows: I still need to focus on my form more, especially when tired, I need to fuel up sooner (around 5-6 miles), but my mental toughness was solid and I thoroughly enjoyed the whole race, and my fitness was right where I wanted it to be. Overall I'm nothing but pleased, but have a few goals to work on, which will keep me motivated. That's everything one could hope for, isn't it?

Cheers!

Motivation, Creativity, and Adventure

2012-04-06T09:59:00.000-07:00

How many of you work out to stay in shape, or for any other purpose other than for the love of that activity? Have you ever told yourself that you should go work out, because your body will like you for it, and you’ll feel better about yourself? Perhaps it’s even something that you enjoy doing, but you just can’t seem to get yourself off the couch to do it? Well have I got the product for you! It’s the all new…ok ok, I won’t scare you with the threat of another cheesy infomercial. I assure you that I’m not selling anything here. In fact, I’m right there with ya, folks. Motivation can be elusive, even for the things you know you’ll enjoy once you’re doing it.

Running was like this for me ever since I started in late high school. It doesn’t help that I hated it when I initially joined the cross-country team senior year, joining mostly because I injured myself during soccer tryouts and couldn’t play. My initial experience with distance running was not fun – in fact it was quite painful – and it definitely put a blemish on the years to come, even when I came to enjoy running more. In college and beyond, there were certainly the days when I longed to get out in the sunshine and run a few solid miles along the river. It was invigorating, and a great way to crosstrain. I never saw it as a means in itself, however. I ran mainly to stay in shape in the off-season, to supplement the soccer season and compliment the climbing season, adding cardio endurance to brute strength. I threw in a few 5k and 5-mile races here and there as well to keep it fun and enjoy some competition, a trait of my personality that I’ll never shed.

As I’ve mentioned more than a few times, my experience at “The Big Juan” last summer changed everything for me. I saw running from a completely new perspective after that. Running became an adventure, not just something that people do to stay in shape or because they just love running. I had never learned the love of running for the sake of it, so this new love was enlightening for me, and the key to keeping me interested and motivated.

Since then, I’ve altered my approach to training. I try not to pick a route that’s easy or close by and run it just for speed (although I still do that sometimes), but rather I use the running as a means to go new places, see new things, and explore the unknown. I’ve explored new sections of my neighborhood and beyond, finding all kinds of cool little points of interest, including the Little Free Library and the tiny locales that I didn’t know existed. The grandest adventure I’ve had thus far was last weekend, when I finally put into fruition a plan that I hatched a while back.

I’ve been more interested in point-to-point runs lately, because it doesn’t require repeating parts already traveled, and as comedian Lewis Black points out when lamenting about the pointlessness of treadmills; “It seems to me if you’re gonna be running, when you’re done, you should be somewhere else!” Now, I have no problems with loops, but for some odd reason, doing a 12-mile point-to-point seems much cooler than a 12-mile loop, so I set out to find some feasible p2p’s that fit into my training program. Just for the hell of it, I checked to see what the distance would be to run from my house to my parents’ house in the suburbs, and it turned out to be 12.6 miles on foot. Not only was it a great distance to throw into my training, but as I checked routes, I discovered that I could do the majority of it on trails, separated from traffic, neighborhoods, and general civilization.

My plan was set. I called my folks to see if they wanted to hang out and have dinner on Saturday, and informed them that we would arrive early afternoon. Anna did her long run with her running buddies early that morning, so we timed it so that she would be showered and driving my direction to meet me shortly after I arrived in White Bear Lake. With a great feeling of adventure and challenge, I set out with my Camelbak and pouch belt stuffed with Gu, foot care items, my phone, ID, and credit card, just in case. The run was almost magical. Crossing through previously unseen areas of St. Paul and across the freeway, I hit the Gateway trail and took a moment to consider my task, feeling a new twinge of focused excitement. It’s hard to believe that in the middle of the city, one can feel as if totally secluded in the woods. Although I was still amid civilization, this was the closest to an “unsupported run” that I’ve ever had. Cruising along, I hooked up with the Bruce Vento Trail – a trail I didn’t know existed until I started searching routes – and chomped on my gel to keep me moving. The trail was practically desolate, and being alone with just the scenery and my thoughts drove me onward in an almost aloof state, and yet I felt focused the whole time. Of course, the “brain iPod” was in full effect with this song, strangely enough. Hey, it’s got a great bpm for setting a pace. When I hit the backside of the Maplewood Mall shopping district, I knew I was home free. Back on the roads again I picked up the pace, finishing it all off with a sprint to and up my parents’ driveway. Although in the eyes of ultrarunning I had just completed a “normal run,” this was the longest distance I’ve ever covered, and I did it all with just 3mm of rubber underfoot, so I relished my accomplishment.

The best part, however, was walking into the house, my parents looking at me rather quizzically in my running clothes and sweaty, red-faced state, asking me with an almost sarcastic tone, “What, did you run here?” Yep. Then the cognitive dissonance began; “Wait, you REALLY ran here? Where did you start? You ran here from your house?” I like surprising people, and this was just the icing on the cake. That, and the fact that I did my run at a 7m36s/mile pace, quite a bit under my initial 8min/mile goal for the half marathon at the end of April. Altogether, it was a great redemption to the failed 11-miler the weekend before, and proof that making the run an adventure helps more than one might realize. The final fruit of my point-to-point labor, however, was the delicious steak dinner that my folks prepared for us. A grand adventure run, followed by a great (free) meal and beer. That’s what makes it all worthwhile. Thanks Mom and Dad.

Does every run need to be a grand adventure? Certainly not, but by adding new elements and challenges to the run, you can get your mind off of the dull routine of “the workout.” Adding personal challenges and unique twists of various sorts create a distraction from the regular, and they might be as simple as exploring new territory to see how far you can go, organizing a fun point-to-point run (and possibly surprising friends or family), or doing sprint pickups along your route based on landmarks or people in front of you (“I’m gonna pass that guy before he passes the big tree 15 yards ahead of him”). Part of what made the run to my parents’ house so fun was the element of the unknown, running farther than I ever have before in unknown territory and completely alone. “Do one thing everyday that scares you,” proposed Eleanor Roosevelt, and she was absolutely right. Organized or intentional scariness, as it were, can make for a great adventure that yields equally great benefits, as long as you are willing to take on the challenge and be flexible with the potential outcome.

On a smaller scale, if you’re training for an ultra or a trail race, experiment with your gear and see what works best: hydration pack vs. handhelds, various foods and gut response, etc. For some people, that might be serious business, but because I geek out on stuff like that, it’s fun for me to try new things and see what works best. You’ll need to use your creativity to find what works best for you, and as long as creativity is the goal, you’ll find something interesting and fun, which in turn will keep you motivated. It can actually be quite addicting too, so beware!

As I wrap up, let’s boil it down to a few quick points, shall we? Here are the facets of a true adventure in my mind:

facing the unknown - unknown places, distances, limits, etc.

taking on a challenge – test your strength and endurance, your ingenuity, your mental toughness, etc.

facing your fears – What’s holding you back from doing what you really want to do?

breaking routine – approach something with a fresh, flexible, creative perspective

One final note of importance is that structured training plans and creative adventures are not mutually exclusive. Structure and consistency are extremely important for successful training, in my opinion, but there is always room within that structure to switch things up and vary the workout. I’ve managed to use my training schedule as the base around which I utilize my creativity, because it provides a starting point that can make finding new adventures a bit easier. Now I look forward to whatever new and interesting challenge I get to dream up, while knowing that I’m still following a plan to make myself stronger, faster, and more competitive. Make a plan, think outside the box, and get off the couch!

In closing, I will amend the words of mothers everywhere and say to you, “It’s a beautiful day outside. Go out and find yourself an adventure!”

A First

2012-03-25T20:10:00.000-07:00

For the first time ever, I had a complete disaster of a run today. Now, I've had bad runs in the past: tweaks and strains, forced walking, and the feeling of my heart ready to burst out of my chest on an easy 3-miler, but today was a lesson.

I set out for my 11-miler this morning along with my wife and her running buddies, starting from my in-laws' house in St. Louis Park, which is right along the Cedar Lake Trail. The goal was to head into Uptown and around Lake Calhoun and back, with a quick jaunt up towards Lake Harriet to get in a full 11 miles. Today was the first chilly morning in weeks, starting at a brisk 38 degrees, and I chose wind pants and a long sleeve with a t-shirt underneath. Of course, it warmed up a bit by the end and I was regretting the wind pants, but it wasn't altogether a complete over-calculation. Something was off this morning though, and my head just wasn't in it. I forgot a few things at home that I meant to bring with, and I was feeling somewhat numb mentally. It was, nonetheless, gorgeous and sunny, and it was nice to have a cool morning once again. I do better in cooler weather.

From the start, I didn't feel awesome, just ok. My legs didn't want to go, and my cadence was definitely slower than usual, yet my legs didn't feel tired or heavy. I realized quickly, however, that after a few sweet trail runs this week, I was generally not looking forward to this pancake flat piece of paved straightness, and I mean FLAT! I've always hated long flat courses; my body just doesn't do well with the exact repetition of stride for so long. I need even just a few small rollers to change it up, even if ever so slightly. Anyway, by the time I had reached Lake Calhoun, my right hip flexor and knee were already flaring up. Thankfully, the taping of my blisters worked like a charm, so that wasn't causing a gait change.

Once I reached the lake, things perked up a bit. The people out and about in combination with the lake as improved scenery helped me pick it up somewhat and move more smoothly. Perhaps my subconscious didn't want me to look like a stumbling moron in front of all the beautiful city folk, so I took it and ran with it (no pun intended, if that's even possible). Hey, whatever works, right? It was going well until I reached William Berry Parkway and headed up the only incline toward Lake Harriet. I had pinpointed the exact halfway point earlier on the map where I would turn around on Lake Harriet Blvd, but once I hit the western entrance to the bird sanctuary, I couldn't resist. I've run through there several times in the past while racing in the Uptown Chase, a fun run started by my friend Mel in her quest to create new and fun themes for a party. Anyway, it was great running through there again, and I had remembered that there was an exit on the south side, which I thought was just about exactly where I wanted to turn around. Once I hit that spot, however, I realized I had gone double the distance! This is where I started to get a bad feeling.

By the time I got back down to Calhoun, my knee was killing me, so I had to stop and stretch. From there, things went way downhill. I was shuffling at best, interspersed with walking, and a fair bit of cursing. I wasn't completely pissed, mainly because I had seen it coming, and with the way my morning had started out, it seemed to be the general order of the day. I ran into the girls who were stopped for some GU imbibing, and I wasn't surprised that they were ahead of me. I was doing one more mile than them, and I was moving much more slowly. I stole a quick sip of water from my generous wife, and asked if I could get back on the Cedar Lake Trail on the northwestern end of the lake, as to bypass the whole northern end. I was told that I had to go all the way back to the northeastern end to get on the trail, which is not at all what I wanted to hear, but set out quickly as not to prolong my suffering. Once I actually hit the trail, after two wrong turns, I saw the long, flat, lonely road of loneliness ahead of me, and my heart sank.

The last three miles were excruciating, both physically and mentally. I tried my darndest to keep positive and use this as a means to work on my mental toughness, but it's a fine line between pushing ahead at all costs and seriously injuring oneself, and it wasn't worth killing my training. Walking, shuffling, grimmacing...rinse and repeat. With about a mile left, I saw four people way up ahead, wearing the same colors as my wife and her friends. How the hell could they have gotten so far ahead of me? There was only one path and they didn't pass me! This was my last push of the run, to catch up with them without walking or stopping. Once I reached them, they were walking, so I joined them for the rest of the way. Apparently there was a shortcut to get back on the trail from the lake. Eff.

Since then, both of my knees and my right hip have been annoying, to say the least. We did hit up Pizza Luce for lunch, though, which was a truly redeeming post-run treat, complete with beer AND soda. What can I say, it's how I roll.

All of this has brought about a few observations, concerns, and questions. First, the observations:

I HATE flat pavement runs. It's not fun, interesting, or good for my body.
After talking with several distance runners, it seems that there is something magical about the 10-mile mark. It's decently easy to run up to that point, but as soon as you cross that distance, all bets are off. I wonder if it's mostly psychological, but there does seem to be a trend.
Although I worked diligently with my mechanics and form, my hip and knee still blew up. This either means that I need to address my body structurally through PT/chiropracting, and/or find a mechanics coach to work with here in the Cities, as my first choice is currently living in Oregon.
I definitely need to bring water and GU if I'm running 10 miles or more. I figured that it wouldn't be a big deal because of the cool weather and my quality nutrition and hydration this morning, but I'm sure it was a factor.
Perhaps I should get back to doing more short runs on pavement, instead of doing all of them on trail, and then doing the long run on pavement. My trail race isn't until May, so I should probably stick to more road running - one race at a time. I just love the trails too much.
Although I consider my run a failure in regard to the goal of the workout, it gave me a ton of perspective and I learned a good deal for the future. That's one of the goals of training after all, isn't it? Now I take that learning and make use of it, keeping Rule #1 in mind - Never Give Up.

Now, the concerns:

As much as I love and am dedicated to minimalist running, it seems that I *might* need to use more than the Five Fingers for longer distances. I'm not opposed to getting minimalist road shoes with a little more EVA as cushion, but I really don't want to drop $100 or more at the moment. This is a dilemma for me. Anyone know how I can get a free pair of NB Minimus OO Roads? :P
If I had this much trouble with 11 miles today, how can I run 50 miles in the fall? What if I blow up like this at my half marathon at the end of April? I REALLY don't want to walk during a race. I'm not as concerned with this one, however, because everyone has bad days. Because this was my first truly bad day, I'll be patient and see how it plays out.

Questions:

Due to finances, I may be able to choose only one or the other when it comes to structural rehab or mechanics coaching. Which one should I go for? If I go for the former, should I see a PT or chiropractor?
Could it be that my body in particular is simply not meant for distance running, no matter how hard I train, perfect my mechanics, and toughen myself mentally? (See Rule #1 above)

So there it is. I'll wait and see what my body does in the next few days. Perhaps I just need a few days off. I have plenty of time until the half in April, so I can rest a little, focus on the things I enjoy, namely trail running, and maybe (finally) do some more climbing. I might switch it up a little and do some more strength training and short intervals, just to give my neural pathways something new to chew on.

Until next time. Wish me luck!

Knowledge, Good Advice, and Stupid Behavior

2012-03-17T20:34:00.001-07:00

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Well, this has been an interesting adventure of a week, partly because of some of the choices I've made in my training. The unseasonably warm weather here in MN has affected everyone in the usual it's-spring-and-warm-so-let's-go-crazy-outside kind of way. Everyone and their brother's dog is outside walking, running, biking, or just hanging out by the grill. Going from the mid-40's and low-50's to upper 70's in just a matter of days has given me the illusion that the end of the school year is really close, and that I'm way behind in my training, but it's only mid-March! It's strange how much weather can affect us, and I am particularly sensitive to it. I'm sure that when I'm old I'll be one of those people who can predict thunderstorms because my knees hurt. In any case, I can't complain about the weather: the temps are comfortable, the trails are already dry, and my feet don't get numbingly cold walking barefoot around the house on our wood floors.

Due to all of this, I decided that it was time to do my first official truly barefoot run on Tuesday. With a temp in the mid-70's, I couldn't resist. I decided to go barefoot for the first short part, and then put on the Five Fingers to finish it out. The point at which I would put on the VFF's, however, was undecided when I left for the run. Now, did I know that I haven't run barefoot for anything more than about half a mile to a mile, and slowly at that? Yes. Have I read again and again how important it is to go slow, both in actual speed and progression of distance? Yep. Did I have all of that in my head when I left the house? Sure. Did I still end up tearing the skin off several of my toes and giving myself blisters on the balls of my feet? Damn right I did. As it usually happens with me, once I'm on the run, there's a disconnect between the logic and knowledge in my head and what my brain actually let's (or makes) me do. There have been numerous occasions when I've made stupid choices that have caused injury, pain, or complete exhaustion when I totally knew better. The best example is probably how I care for my fair ginger skin in the sun. You can imagine how someone who makes the type of choices I mentioned above might have dealt with some disgusting and excruciating sunburns over the years, but I must admit, I'm getting much better in that department.

So what is it about us that makes us do stupid things when we know better? I've heard numerous stories from dozens of people over the years who can relate. Is it stubbornness, a desire to prove that we're hardcore, or are we just having too much fun right until we hit the point of no return? In the particular instance of last Tuesday, I was just having too much fun, and I wasn't listening to my feet as well as I should have. I felt the heat building on a few areas of my soles, but figured a few hundred meters more wouldn't hurt (I really wanted to make two miles even, which I did). Because of that, I've spent the week with bandages on two toes and didn't run again until yesterday. In order to take care of my feet a little better, I took to the trails in my Merrel Trail Gloves yesterday as a sort of compromise and because I REALLY wanted to be in the woods again now that the trails are finally dry. It was actually a great 5-miler, but because I was sockless, the hotspots on the balls of my feet returned and became blisters once again. That will happen with temps around 80 degrees. With all of this, I'm wondering how my 10-miler on the road tomorrow will go. I'm taking it really easy today to rest my feet and am caring for my skin the best way I know how, but the concern is definitely there. The damage is done, and at this point I NEED to be smart, and yet my training plan is in my head, the beautiful weather is calling, and despite the pain and hassle I've experienced, it was still really fun and enjoyable, so what's really gonna make me stop? Middle ground can often be the toughest thing to find.

There seems to be something about human behavior that makes us act contrary to what we know is right, healthy, and logical. I have always believed that the world needs dissonance, strife, misery, and complexity in order for us to actually be happy. The scene from the movie The Matrix was right on, in my opinion, when Agent Smith explains that the first version of the Matrix was designed as a perfect world without suffering, and it was a total disaster because people couldn't handle it. Hell, it's the American Way when you think about it; a person thrives on utter despair to overcome the odds and pull themself up by their bootstraps to become successful and happy. We need the challenge.

All of this can be useful when you think about it. With every issue, one learns both their limits and how to overcome the negative results of said issue when it happens, that is, if they make the conscious effort to do so after it happens. As the saying goes; "If you do what you've always done, you'll get what you always got." Especially thinking in terms of ultraunning, where the race is more of a survival test than a race, if I can learn how to deal with problems quickly and effectively, I'll be more prepared for the future and can hopefully avoid them altogether. It's often not enough to just hear or read someone else's advice, or acquire the knowledge secondhand, but rather we must actually go out and do it and make the mistake ourselves in order to truly learn and internalize it. This has been one of those times. I will now start over in my progression with barefoot running and do it right. To add one more proverb into the mix; "I hear and I forget, I see and I remember, I do and I understand."

With all of this, I'm sure some of you might be thinking; "Well done, Captain Obvious!" Perhaps I am stating the obvious in my observations, but I've found that it's valuable to remind oneself of the obvious from time to time, because that's the easiest thing to overlook. In closing, I'll say to you all, go out and make mistakes!
**But try and be at least a little smart about it and learn from them.

Symmetry: Obsession vs. Reality

2012-03-12T19:50:00.002-07:00

After a glorious weekend of 60+ degree weather and sunshine, barefoot season is officially upon us! I had a breakthrough 9.25 mile run along the Mississippi on Saturday morning in my Five Fingers, clocking in at a 7:21 mile pace, which is 40 seconds faster per mile than my 7.5 mile run a couple weeks ago! It was thoroughly enjoyable, but my right side hip and knee were hitched up, causing some issues in the second half of the run. I've been trying to solve this issue in the last few weeks in particular, but it's been something that has occurred on and off since I started minimalist running. I know that this is partly a running mechanics issue, but I'm convinced that it's also due to the wonky body I'm working with.

For a long time now I've been obsessed with the notion of symmetry in my body in regard to achieving optimal athletic performance. I've felt that if I can find a way to balance things out, many of the issues I've had in the past will melt away. I'm very aware of the imbalances between the left and right sides of my body through experiences with rolfing and physical therapy, and just in looking at myself and feeling how my body moves on one side or the other. For instance, my right shoulder is a little higher and sucked in closer to my body than the left, my left hip is anteriorly rotated which I can feel in my normal walking gait, and my abs and lower back muscles function differently from one side to the other when I do the same side-isolated exercise on both sides. Now, this is not uncommon, and I won't consider myself a freak of nature yet, at least not in this capacity, but what can a person do about this, and does it really affect performance?

Most people are asymmetrical at least to some extent, be it shoulder height, hip alignment, or even nostril width and ear size. It's simply the way we are, and just like our friend above, it may help us (with super radar hearing), or it might cause issues (he'll never find a pair of headphones to fit both ears perfectly). After doing a little research, I discovered a few interesting things that apply to my incessant desire to be the best athlete possible.

Asymmetrical Nostrils Mess Up Your 800m Time

I suppose that because of my obsession I assumed that there would be plenty of research out there on symmetry and its affect on athletic performance, but I found a surprisingly small amount online. Admittedly, however, I did not delve deeply into medical journals, but rather took what Dr. Google showed me, so you'll forgive me for not engaging in a full-on medical research thesis just yet. In any case, I found two studies, one of which compared best 800m and 1500m times of fifty middle-distance runners after measuring symmetry in seven traits, including things like ear size, nostril width, and wrist width. For those of you not interested in reading the abstract, the conclusion was thus:

"We conclude that symmetry in traits such as nostrils and ears indicates good running ability."

That seems like quite a stretch, and I think the sample size needs to be increased greatly, along with actual measurements of 800m and 1500m times, but it's an interesting idea nonetheless. The second study - a literature review actually - dealt with the effects of bilateral asymmetry on running and cycling performance, risk of injury in otherwise healthy subjects, and leg preference. Although not a study in itself, it did some of the work for me, as it showed that the research on symmetry is less than robust and needs expansion. Alas, the verdict cannot yet be made, although I think I'll go measure my nostrils right now.

Not Symmetry, But Neutrality

In reading the blog by Kevin Neeld, Director of Athletic Development for Endeavor Sports Performance, he discussed symmetry as it applies to hockey players and made some interesting points that are relevant for all athletes, in my opinion. First of all, he points out that the movements hockey players make can cause asymmetries based on repetitive motions on one side or the other, such as shooting the puck from the dominant side most or all of the time. Those continual rotations with body weight on the same primary leg will cause muscles to develop differently on both sides. I would propose that this is true for many sports. For me, my many years of soccer could be a huge culprit, keeping my weight on my left leg to pass and shoot with the right. Any sport that involves shooting, kicking, or hitting from one side of the body could do this.

The second point, however, is something that I hadn't thought of before, and it has to do with what's inside of us, and no, I'm not referring to Gatorade's tagline. I'm referring to the organs in our body. Neeld goes on to note that the placement of the organs in our thoracic cavity may affect the balance of our bodies, such as the placement of the heart and pericardium on the left, the liver on the right, two lobes of the lung on the right but only one on the left, etc. No matter how hard a person works to achieve symmetry both muscularly and skeletally, you can't rearrange your organs, at least not without a Nazi doctor and some serious HIPAA violations. To this effect, Neeld supports the notion of neutrality in athletes, not symmetry, which makes a lot of sense, all things considered. So I guess I'm now working toward neutrality with my body. The question at this point, however, is how do I best go about doing that? Chiropracting? Physical Therapy? Postural restoration therapy? More rolfing? I'm interested in trying - or continuing - these forms of body work, but as they all cost money, I cannot indulge at the present moment to the extent I would like. I also feel that I must do some more research and focus on strengthening my body a bit more. One of the observations from the lit review mentioned above that I find helpful is that symmetry was improved by increasing running speed, and for cyclists, symmetry improved with greater workload. I did notice on my run on Saturday that my right leg felt better when I did some pick-ups and really opened it up, so maybe I just need to run really fast all the time. :)

Needless to say, I am still very interested in this topic and continue to pay attention to my body and how it moves. Perhaps I just need to stop obsessing and focus on getting stronger and moving more fluidly in a neutral state, even if it's not symmetrical. Neutrality, as it were, may just become a new mantra; "I am Switzerland."

On that note, I sincerely welcome your comments on the matter, and would especially love to hear from those of you in the medical community.

As the Swiss say, "zum Wohlsii!"

Badass Defined

2012-03-03T21:45:00.000-08:00

Bacon. I could end this post here with a title like that. What's badass? Bacon is. Have you ever thought to yourself, "How can I make this breakfast better?" The answer is always, unconditionally, bacon, even if you already have it on your plate. Think about it; is there anything in the world of breakfast that bacon doesn't go with, either on the side or in the dish itself? Consider how bacon has branched out into the lunch and supper realm: in sandwiches, wrapping filet mignon, and as a means to make damn near any vegetable or edible morsel better by offering it's supreme wrapability that can simultaneously provide crispy, salty, mouth-watering protein goodness. Take a moment right now and google "bacon products" and click on the images search. Go ahead, I'll wait. You found the motherload of bacon-inspired goods, didn't you? Bacon band-aids, shoes, lingerie, wallets, flavored products such as toothpaste, and even a statuette of St. Anthony, patron saint of bacon. Not only is bacon the badass of breakfast meats, it's simply badass all around. Several of my friends - and I've heard stories of countless more - lost their vegetarian fidelity to bacon and never returned to meatless consumption. Bacon has even become a sponsor for athletes, and badass athletes at that. My proof is in this video:

Bacon as "kryptonite?" Nooooooo! It's the secret weapon, you ignorant reporter! A thirteen-year-old with common sense (and some serious strength) is all you need to attest to that, although her coach does phrase it well; "Bacon is sooooo good!"

Now that I've got you all obsessed and drooling about the world's perfect meat (feel free to fry some up for a snack while you read, because this one's a long one), I'll continue on into an exploration of what badass truly means, seeing as it's the title of my blog. Here are the essential questions I posed to myself as I embarked on this task:

Anyone can do something badass, but what makes a person a complete badass - a well-rounded, balanced-diet of a badass, if you will?
What are the absolute necessary qualities of a badass, and which qualities are simply a bonus?
Can you learn and practice to be a badass, or is it simply innate? In other words, we're talking about ye ol' Nature vs. Nurture debate.

Let's get started, shall we?

Question #1 - There are many ways in which someone can do something badass. It takes daring, intelligence, and oftentimes a certain amount of style, but it's certainly possible, and I would gather that almost everyone has done something badass at one time or another, simply because humans tend to thrive on adversity. The world would be a seriously boring place if everyone were happy and there were no obstacles to overcome. Such badass accomplishments could range from enduring prolonged exposure to harsh elements under extreme pressure with few materials, such as the survivors of Uruguayan Air Force Flight 571, or facing one's own inner demons to overcome some insurmountable mental, psychological, or physical task, such as the myriad success stories on "The Biggest Loser." The difference between that, however, and being a badass, deserves note.

Let's take, for example, an irrefutable badass like Bruce Lee. If we refer back to the original tenets of the definition I gave in my first post, we can all agree that Mr. Lee was intelligent, technically proficient, and driven by challenge. There was something distinct in his character that caused him to exude badassity...badassness...badassitude. He continually pushed the limits of martial arts, challenging not only himself both mentally and physically, but also the structure and format of martial arts in general. To this degree, I would say that being driven by challenge should also include challenging the status quo and not just oneself. A true badass, I would argue, is a source of change in the world, whether they know it or not. I shall continue more on this when dealing with question #2. When asked to define what a badass is, many of you might simply answer similarly to the statement in the picture below.

"You'll know when you see one"

We can all picture someone who embodies this word, and in many cases it's just plain clear, but is there more to it than just following the three points in my definition? Are all three points of my definition valid, or do they need to be altered? Let's look at the general qualities of a badass first before we make the call.

Question #2 -As I've pondered more and more, there are quite a few qualities that come to mind when considering various badasses: toughness, ingenuity, skill, calmness under pressure, grit, control, strength, doing things on one's own terms, defying the status quo, and disregarding other's opposition and doubt, among others. Which of these, however, is an essential and necessary truth shared among all badasses?

Let's look at the original three first: intelligence, being technically proficient, and driven by challenge. The first seems like a no-brainer to me (no pun intended). Can you think of any true badasses who are also total meatheads? There needs to be something more substantial upstairs than a box of day-old doughnuts and reruns of Tom and Jerry. It should be noted, however, that intelligence isn't just how well you do math, knowing all of the German philosophers and what they stood for, or having a PhD in Science like our favorite TV scientist. According to the Multiple Intelligences Theory of psychologist and Harvard professor of neuroscience Howard Gardner, there are at least nine different types of intelligence that humans have in various combinations of aptitude and preference, and they are: linguistic, logical/mathematical, bodily/kinesthetic, musical rhythmic, spatial, naturalist, interpersonal, intrapersonal, and existential. Does this mean that a person could be an interpersonal badass? Do you know any naturalist badasses? The possibilities do seem viable, and when we talk about intelligence, there are certainly many ways to determine this.

Technical proficiency, being the second tenet, implies an amount of skill and precision in what the badass excels at, or in other words what the badass is known for. In order to be a badass, you must not only be good at something, but be able to do it in a way that stands out, which further implies proficiency, be it proficiency in a particular athletic discipline, proficiency in follow-through, or just simply at kicking ass, like our good friend Bruce Lee. Although a person may not seem proficient at the main goal they strive for, I would argue that proficiency in some other trait that will help them achieve that goal must be present.

Finally, to be driven by challenge seems ultimately vital to me, perhaps more so than the first two. There is no such thing as a lazy badass. Achievement must be among the traits of a badass, and not simply easy achievement, but conquering adversity in some way, shape, or form. As previously mentioned, the adversity conquered often changes perception in human possibility and alters the status quo, proving that the impossible is possible, just like Gordy Ainsleigh did in 1974 when he ran 100 miles in under 24 hours along side racers on horseback competing in the Tevis Cup. This is a badass who changed the face of trail running forever. He is also a badass with a heart of gold, still competing in the Western States, and giving hours of free chiropractic adjustments the day before the race at the pre-race meeting. Living life on your own terms, while simultaneously caring for and connecting with the people around you is truly the ideal badass, in my opinion. "Be the change you wish to see in the world," says our peace-loving badass friend Ghandi. I bet you never thought of Ghandi as being a badass, did you?

Furthermore, I would like to clear up what I find to be misuses of the word. The first is for a person who is simply strong or tough. A guy who can do 100 lb. bicep curls is not a badass, he's just strong. The same guy might be wholly unable to lift his own body weight over a fence (or wipe his own ass with all those muscles, for that matter). In the same light, having only toughness might help you make a name for yourself, such as with this guy:

"I pity the fool who tries to get me on a plane!"

But toughness alone does not a badass make, especially when you attempt something like this:

It's awkwardly cute, isn't it, folks?

The second case of misuse invovles people who are labeled a badass because they do everything their own way and don't care what anyone thinks, regardless of who they hurt or what they destroy. Now, don't get me wrong, I believe that following one's own path and living life on one's own terms is key to being a badass, but without concern for others and the world around you, you're not a badass. You're just an asshole. It seems there's a fine line in that distinction, but it also appears with all this rambling that we're closer to finding a few necessary truths: intelligence/reason, technical proficiency, driven by challenge, confidence in following one's own path (aka daring), and concern for others and world, which may manifest itself in various ways.

Let it be said that I do not consider myself to be a badass, and mostly for one reason - my follow-through. I have always been a little ADD (I use that term non-technically) with my endeavors, following my passions as long as they inspire me, and if I lose steam before accomplishing the goals I've set for myself, it hasn't usually bothered me if I relinquish my hold on those goals and move on. Periodically, however, I look back on the many things I've given up on and feel a bit depressed, as if I haven't done anything truly amazing. Since the inception of my new passion for ultrarunning, I've read a lot about treating it like a survival challenge, which does in effect blur the lines of success and failure, and it certainly changes the rules of racing. Success in its greatest form is finishing the race, and even perhaps in a good position. It might also mean making it farther this time than the last before you're yanked from the course because you haven't made the time cutoff. Failure, on the other hand, might mean not finishing, or worse yet by ending up in the hospital with kidney failure. This has challenged my definition of success and failure. If I don't finish the race, but I'm still upright and all body processes are functioning within the normal range (or maybe just slightly outside of it), that's not a total failure, because there was an adventure involved to which I gave my all, and most likely I learned something for next time. Because of this unique notion, I feel more inspired to go for it, because the stakes are what you make them, and failure will provide a positive learning experience.

For whatever reason - how I was raised, something I experienced early on in my childhood, or just my general wiring - I have never been ok with failure, and therefore have simply not done things that might cause me to fail, and I believe I've missed out on some huge opportunities for adventure, growth, and self discovery. Thus, I must add grit - otherwise known as perseverance - to my list of required qualities of badasses, because it acts, in and of itself, as a catalyst for self-discovery, which in turn leads to the daring of following one's own path, a necessary truth already on the list. Quitting is not an option, even if failure is evident. I will refer you to "the Rules" that were laid out by my friend Sam Jurek (no relation to Scott), as he also embarks on his personal quest to be a badass, although he may not qualify it in that way. The version we discussed last summer at Western States included slightly more harsh language for #3, and rule #5 was slightly different, something to the effect of "It's probably your fault," but no matter. The key here are Rules 1 and 2. If you want a good example of these two rules, check out this read, and you will surely see a badass in action, although I guarantee some of you might question his intelligence, which brings me to the final point in question #2.

"But what about those people who refuse to give up and drive themselves to near oblivion in the process?"

It seems there must be a distinction between being a badass and having a death wish...or being just plain stupid. In this current age in particular, there has been a surge in people wanting to test the limits of human potential, going bigger, faster, or longer. I could list a ton of examples, some of which are truly inspiring, and some which make me question what on earth is going through the person's head, other than a stiff wind. The key here, however, is to "know thyself," just as free solo climber Alex Honnold does, seen in this segment of 60 Minutes, with the key comments starting around 9:09. An outsider can certainly look at someone and say that they are crazy, but only the person themself can know what they are capable of and willing to risk. The intelligence piece is knowing yourself well enough to not risk everything, but rather to walk that fine line as an art in itself.

Ok, so let's take stock of what we've got so far. We have the original three tenets I posted in my first post, along with the qualities of daring, concern for others and the world, and grit. Now on to the final question.

Question #3 - This question is the toughest one for me. Of course, I want to believe that anyone can become a badass, but something inside me says that one must be born with a certain amount of natural BA DNA, if you will. Most of the qualities mentioned above can be practiced and honed, but I would argue that for some, a major trigger event is necessary to set them in motion, for example fighting and beating cancer. Let's face it, people are lazy, and you can't be a lazy badass. Intrinsic motivation can make a huge difference, but I don't think it's a necessary truth, because extrinsic motivation can be equally powerful. To this effect, I have noticed two types of badass:

The Obvious Badass - This person may be intrinsically or extrinsically motivated and is clearly focused and driven. People in this group are not only those who don't give up in the face of adversity, but also excel in this state in an open and public fashion on their quest for personal glory, such as climber Chris Sharma. Note that I use the term "personal glory" not to allude to selfishness, but simply as a means to make a name for oneself.
The Unassuming Badass - These are people who may be somewhat reclusive and introverted. They don't look for outside validation or fame of any kind, and in many cases, they may not even know how badass they are. They may also be people who are simply following a passion that takes them well into the realm of determination, toughness, and challenge. After watching a Discovery Channel documentary on the Iditarod sled dog race across Alaska, labeled as one of the toughest races ever, and certainly the toughest sled dog race in the world, female musher Dee Dee Jonrowe came to mind. The most successful female musher in the world today, she simply has a love for her dogs and watching them work. Straight-shooting, practical, and determined, she has made a solid name for herself in the world of mushing. Although definitely not reclusive (she certainly isn't trying to hide with the amount of hot pink on her dogs and her own person), her interviews show a person preoccupied with her dogs and less with herself. Her concern for others and the world sets her apart, as proven by the P.R.I.D.E. Foundation she created to promote healthy lives for the dogs.

I will say no more to this last question, as I think it's still very much open for discussion, but I will end with the question my wife posed to me while discussing all of this:

"Why do you want to be a badass?"

A relevant question indeed. To be perfectly honest, the title of this blog and my quest to become a badass are both tongue-in-cheek and ancillary. My true quest is simply to improve and excel at not only my athletic endeavors, but in my personal and work life undertakings as well. Consider it my New Year's resolution, as much as I hate the idea of that. I've reached a point in my life where I've grown tired of the undesirable qualities I have, and want to work on them by using sport as the modus operandi. This is all an experiment to see if I can awaken my intrinsic motivation, change patterns and habits in my life that are useless or detrimental in some way, and discover my utmost limits (or at least prove to myself that the self-imposed limits I've presumed for so long are completely worthless). If successful in some or all of those feats, the bonus result would be that I am a bit more badass.

So, my dear readers, as always I will invite you to comment, as I'm very curious to hear your thoughts on the matter, because most of this is just musing on my part, and there certainly is much more to discuss.

Until next time, cheers!

Your parting shot

"He sprints on his hands"

Current Fitness and Training Plans

2012-02-19T22:13:00.000-08:00

Ok, so before I continue on with verbose explorations of etymology and other philosophical inquiries, I thought I should discuss my actual training, as this is mostly meant to be a blog about my athletic endeavors. I'll go back to defining and labeling things in future entries, so stay tuned all you word geeks.

The Winter of My Content

Well, I just wrapped up my Nordic ski season and my ninth year as a high school coach. It's always a ton of fun to work with kids, teach them to ski, and get to ski with them. It's great training for me, because I have to be there everyday, and it's one of the few sports where the coach gets to do the workouts with the kids. I typically love the preseason the most when we're dryland training, mostly because I get to spend the most time working out and getting to know the kids. Once we get snow, I do a lot of standing around coaching technique, spend countless hours waxing skis for meets, and freeze my arse off during meets, usually standing at the top of the biggest hill cheering the kids on. Cheering is great fun, the arse freezing part is not. Needless to say, I don't get to train nearly as much once we're on snow, but this year was different. We didn't have a single meet on real snow due to the crazy warm winter we're having, and most of our workouts were running with poles. Truly, we should have changed our team name to the Nordic Pole Running Team. Regardless, I thoroughly enjoyed it, because for the first time in my life, I've wanted to run more than ski, and I got my wish.

The whole season was a grand experiment. I had started more seriously with minimalist running at the end of the summer, and couldn't get more than 2.5 miles on any given run before my calves blew up. It wasn't until a very informational and educational running mechanics session with JoeDPT in October that finally gave me some insight and better form. Thus, going into the ski season, when I knew I would need to run everyday for an hour-and-a-half including hard intervals on trails, gave me pause for concern, to say the least. It was, however, an amazing breakthrough. I was forced to pay attention to my form and improve so that I'd be able to run the next day. After only a week or two, I was running blistering lactate threshold intervals with the varsity boys, and keeping up relatively well! I was adapting, and getting really fit in the process. The trail system is also quite enjoyable.

Once the meet season started I didn't get to run as much, but I didn't seem to lose too much of my fitness. It was only in the last three or so weeks of the season when we made a point to get practice time on snow at one of the various snow-making facilities that my running legs suffered a little. My first major postseason run was last week, and it definitely killed my calves for a few days.

Since then, I've been out running regularly, and all is well. Yesterday I did a 4-mile tempo run at 6:54 pace, which is by far the fastest pace I've run, and for a tempo that's longer than any I've done before. Today I did an almost 7-miler at an even 8min pace in my Vibram KSOs, mainly because my Merrel Trail Gloves were bothering the top of my left foot. I've been doing all my running (through the ski season and now) in my Trail Gloves until today. The VFFs were ok, but they always hurt my pinky toes, and I stumbled twice on my run today, tearing a small hole in the top of the left big toe. I'm not digging them, but I think it might be because I had socks on too. They work best without socks. In any case, I'm extremely happy with where I am in my training, and am excited to continue on.

What's Coming

So I came to the realization that I should probably consider an actual training plan for my half marathon in April and the 25km trail race in May. I've always been Jekyll and Hyde with this type of thing, because exercising is how I let go of all the stress from constantly planning things in my teaching and with my personal life, and yet I am a planner and love efficiency and maximizing output. Part of me wants to just be mindful of the variety I should have in my training and just go with what I feel I want and should do that day, and part of me feels I should set up a more regimented plan. Considering that my life shifts so often, I've given up complex plans and decided on a few steady routines and flexible options surrounding them in order to reach my goals. Before I go any further, I suppose I should pause and consider my goals:

1) Be able to climb some 5.11's in the gym before the Black Hills trip Memorial Day weekend
2) Run a steady 8min/mi pace at the half marathon (that may be adjusted later)
3) Finish the trail race in 2:30 or under (average 10min/mi pace)
4) Have fun! This includes my training.
5) Use all of this as an excuse to eat lots of delicious food and drink more beer

At this point, I figure I'll organize my workouts around a routine long run each weekend, loosely following the add-one-mile-per-week plan that many marathoners do. In between, I shall consider and do some or all of the following:
- climbing (this is a passion I won't neglect, and plan to climb twice a week)
- tempo runs (3-5 miles)
- hill repeats
- intervals, mostly over/under LT (alternating with tempo runs)
**description at bottom
- strength/circuits - I don't have access to a gym, so this will be body weight
exercises, MovNat type stuff, and plyometrics
- Parkour? - I've gotten out of this in the last year, but find that it could be a
great way to crosstrain, focusing on strength and power in the leg-based
movements

Once the trails open up and aren't covered with packed ice, I'll be running mostly on trail, and I'm quite excited for the ski areas to close for the winter season and dry up so that I can do some big hill work there. Overall, I'm not worried about the half marathon, but more concerned with the trail race. I'll need to do some serious hill work to get ready for the elevation change. That shouldn't be too hard though, because I'm most excited and motivated for that one, and I like hills.

From my perspective, the mainstays of speed, strength, and distance need to be addressed, but I feel strongly that variety is important, and a body forced to adapt to different types of movement is a healthy one. Keeping your body guessing is a good way to maximize it's usability. Although I won't consider climbing to be a direct part of my running training, I know that it will help to diversify my strengths, and will also give my legs a chance to recover from running while still getting a workout.

So that's it. A loose plan it is! As I said before, exercise is my way to let go, so I'm not gonna stress out too much about it, at least not until I decide that I'm ready to be a serious competitor...with other people. I'm always a serious competitor with myself.

Until next time! Prost!

**Over/unders - This is a lactate threshold interval workout designed to raise your lactate threshold (LT) and let you perform at a higher heart rate for longer periods of time. You need to have some idea of what your LT is, however. You can either have it measured (there are various ways to do this, most of which cost money), or you can get a general feel for it after a while by noticing the point at which you start to "huff and puff," leading soon after to the burning sensation in your muscles. With this workout, you start by running 4min just under your LT, building in that time to 2min of just above your LT. Drop down for 4 again, above for 2, and repeat once more. That's one set. Do ten minutes of *easy* jogging as recovery and then do another set. If you're a beast, do three sets. These can result in huge gains if done correctly, and it's friggin hard. Good luck!

Inspiration: what it is, what it's done for me, and how a Clark Bar can save your ass

2012-02-17T16:50:00.000-08:00

Inspiration. It's a simple concept really, but a word that is often thrown around on sappy TV talkshows and bad local newscasts as an attempt to make people feel good about life, right after they've punched you in the throat with all the hatred, catastrophe, and destruction in the world. It's my firm belief that we need to amend the definition and start using it correctly. Let's take a look at the word itself, shall we?

The word dates back to the 14th century, stemming from the Latin word inspirare, parsed as in - "in" and spirare - "to breathe." It was originally used to refer to an act of influence by God or gods, thereafter referring to the actual act of inhaling, and then taken to a more figurative meaning of breathing into others - an act of stirring new breath or new life into someone. Okay, so I'm a language geek, but this helps me in my point here, because the Merriam Webster definition uses more tepid language to define it as "the action or power of moving intellect or emotions, or the act of influencing or suggesting opinions." You might be saying, "That sounds like an acceptable interpretation," but you'd be wrong. (insert snarky face here)

Inspiration is not merely suggesting something, nor is it only moving intellect or emotions, but rather in my opinion it is - in its true form - breathing new life into a person to move them to action. It must move the emotions or intellect so greatly as to create new patterns of living, positive changes, and improved resolve in a certain area or areas. It's not enough to see a cute report about a blind boy saving a neighbor's kitten from the tallest tree in the neighborhood that moves you to feel all warm and fuzzy, but rather a report about governmental approval to build a hydroelectric plant in Brazil that will displace 40,000 Natives and destroy 400,000 hectares of rich and vibrant forest that causes you to get off your ass and start writing letters, joining protest groups, and blog about it to create awareness. We must be moved to act.

So what inspired me to start this blog, run crazy distances in minimal shoes, and make my life adventurously awesome? What breathed into me to alter my patterns, provoke change and create more positive results? From my first post (you might need to dig through the vast archive to find it, if you have lots of time that is...at least 2 minutes), you can probably see that my friend Joe and the Western States 100 were the key factors, along with the idea of barefoot and minimalist running, which is true and they remain the largest motivators, but I would say that these were the final tipping point in a list of people and things that have influenced my thinking along the way, adding perhaps a half-breath here and there, but never truly filling my lungs completely with new and fresher air. Let's take a look at some of those key people and events.

1. "The Book" - Born to Run. Okay, I know this is totally lame, which is why I'm starting with it. Every runner and their grandma knows this book and it's almost becoming cliché at this point, but I must say, it had a positive impact on me and inspired me to think and act differently. No, it is not the reason I started barefoot/minimalist running, nor have I begun to include chia seeds and pinole in my diet, but it certainly renewed my determination to run more often. More importantly, it did two things, similar to my experience at Western States: 1) it proved to me the amazing abilities of both the human body and the human spirit and got me thinking about what I personally could accomplish, and 2) it helped to renew the fun of running by changing my perspective and general approach to it. It is a general human trait to hear about or see something cool/fun/amazing/rewarding and wish to copy it in the hopes of achieving the same end, and I must admit that the quality of Christopher McDougall's writing and storytelling inspired me to start new adventures. That, in its essence, is only a good thing in my humble opinion.

2. My wife. I have been married for a year-and-a-half now, and I still find my wife just as inspiring as I did in the beginning. She's finishing up vet school, which in itself is an amazing feat, but has also managed to make me think about things in a simple and practical way that cause me to want to change for the better. Because of her I started eating better, signed up for my first half-marathon (I got jealous after she did it last year, so I'm running it this year), traveled more, and have become more introspective about what I want out of life and how we can achieve awesomeness together. I am definitely the more competitive and determined athlete of the two of us, but she has had moments of sheer badassness when we climb. She has led more crazy climbs without a second thought than I have even considered.

My "special lady" atop Gossamer in the Black Hills

3. David Belle and Parkour. In the fall of 2006 I discovered the sport/art/discipline of Parkour, a means of moving through the environment as efficiently as possible, overcoming obstacles with just your own body, created by a Frenchman named David Belle. David based this new form of movement on the training his father used as a soldier and firefighter with the purpose of "être et durer" (to be and to last). Continuing on the general theme of amazing human potential, I knew I had to explore this unique art of movement. It opened my eyes not only to the potential I have regarding how my body moves, but it also changed how I view the world around me. Practitioners speak of "Parkour eyes" - the condition of seeing normal architectural features or natural landscape as your own personal playground or escape route. As a kid on long road trips, I used to pretend there was a guy on a dirt bike or snowboard (depending on the season) following along side the car in the ditch, jumping over driveways and doing crazy tricks. Parkour has renewed that childish creativity in how I see my environment. It makes the world a little more alive for me, particular in "the concrete jungle," and it has inspired me to move in a direction that will help me to be and to last. A great example of David and his philosophy of human-powered movement can be found here.

4. Herb and Jan Conn. I have been a climber now for about 13 years, and it's truly the longest and most consistent athletic passion of mine throughout my adult life. My first major climbing trip was in the spring of 2000 to the Black Hills of South Dakota, and it was life-changing. I had visited the Hills once before as a kid on a family vacation, and was struck by the incredible, monolithic spires and needles that stirred in me a desire to just run into the forest and explore for the rest of my life. I didn't get more than 10 feet away from the Needle's Eye parking lot though, before my mom made me get back in the car to continue on. I vowed at that moment that I would return to explore later in life. Now I have been climbing in the Hills every Memorial Day weekend for the last twelve years, and this year will be no exception. Along the way, my good friend Jen joined us for a few of those trips, mainly because she shares the same love of this place and also worked as a park ranger at Jewel Cave National Monument for three summers. There she met and became friends with Herb and Jan Conn, the local legends who came there after the war (that's WWII for all you youngsters out there) in search of good climbing. There they stayed and explored the Needles, the Cathedral Spires, and the Sylvan Lake area, making over 220 first ascents, using hemp rope, homemade gear, and wearing Keds sneakers. After "retiring" from climbing, they were recruited to explore Jewel Cave, which at the time was a yet unmapped, unexplored jem (no pun intended). Herb and Jan explored and mapped the first 62 miles of the cave, which now stretches more than 159 miles and is officially the second largest cave in the world. For you adventurers, it also has the longest and most strenuous public spelunking tour in the nation, which I highly recommend.


Herb and Jan with the wife in 2008 after a hike

The climbing and caving are badass in their own right, especially when you see the climbs they set up with the gear they used, but more of note to me is how they live. At this point they are now in their early 90's and live without electricity and have only a water pump. Neither of them has held a steady job since the war, and they make money here and there with their talents and Herb's military pension, but the key is how simply they live. They make their own candles and have a tiny house that I've seen from the outside but apparently no one has ever been in. Rumor has it that it's built into the hillside because it's actually a huge cave that stretches on and on. Whether that's true is irrelevant; the two of them still chop and haul all their own wood for the stove, and they are still very much active: Herb with engineering stuff and writing, and Jan with her music. She has written numerous songs and even has her own CD, a possession I will always treasure. You can get a taste of her music here, although I will warn you that it has children singing instead of her, and we all know that children singing on recordings causes distemper, scurvy, and homicidal madness.

With as truly badass as they are, they are the most humble and friendly people I've ever met. They don't like talking about themselves, but will be happy to show you around and give you advice on good climbs, although the beta will be rather vague, because finding the route is part of the adventure. If you tackle one of their big routes, you might just need to bring a few extra Clark bars, their go-to snack of choice. Jan will certainly give you this free advice; "A two Clark Bar climb is a real humdinger!" Spending time with them on several occasions has "breathed" numerous plans into me to live simply, focus on the uncomplicated joys of life, and live a life of meaning by creating, exploring, and helping others.

There are certainly others in my life who have inspired me, but I wanted to share the people and things that have had the most direct impact on me. From time to time, I will devote whole posts to one particular badass or inspiration, as to truly give each their credit, but that's another story.

So tell me, who or what has inspired you to act? Comments away!

The Year of Being Awesome: An Introduction

2012-02-11T12:05:00.000-08:00

A warm welcome to all of you who may be starting out with me here. (…crickets chirping…) It’s been a while now since I’ve contemplated starting a blog, wondering if it would have any value in and of itself, but after corresponding with several blogger friends and reading some advice on various other blogs, I’ve come to the conclusion that for me it’s just one more step in becoming awesome at life. The advice I received, by the by, is to do it if you love it, and for no other reason. Thus, I’m not as concerned with who and how many read it; writing helps me formulate and firm up ideas that will hopefully lead to an improved and kickass life. It would be an added bonus, however, if any of you find it interesting and/or enlightening.

Every now and again people have epiphanies (or complete breakdowns) in their lives that cause them to re-evaluate their situation in life. For me, they come somewhat regularly, as I tend to be a whimsical and contemplative person, constantly reflecting and evaluating my life, and the greatest of these moments are when I’m inspired by someone or something amazing that they do. I’m blessed to be surrounded by amazing people, and I’m forced to take pause in my thoughts almost everyday by one thing or other. I gotta say, it’s a good way to live, because a life without inspiration is simply not a life. On to the actual point here.

Last June, I had the honor and pleasure to crew for my good friend Joe when he ran the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Race in California. He had started with ultrarunning earlier in the year and was picking up steam. After poking around the WS website, I decided that I had to be part of it, so I emailed him and asked if I could be of any assistance. As it so happened, I ended up as crew chief, organizing a group of 13 people consisting of friends and family who would crew, pace, and cheer Joe on in this momentous occasion. To say that this experience had an impact on me is an understatement. To watch Joe begin in Squaw Valley at 5am, meet him at various points throughout the day on the course, and then see him finish 20 hours later just after 1am the next morning in Auburn, 100 miles away, was something I could barely grasp, but knew it would resonate with me in a huge way for a very long time. Thus begins my own journey. What I experienced there was not only the amazing possibility of human potential, but also the wonderful community that ultrarunners have. I have always been drawn to vibrant communities of people, and this one seemed uniquely energized and positive. I guess I’ve always known that runners are, on the whole, a peaceful and fun-loving sort. This might just be where I fit in, despite the fact that I’ve never really loved running, mostly because I had been viewing it in completely the wrong way for so many years. That, however, has changed.

Barefoot/Minimalist Running

About the same time that Joe was getting into ultras, I was intrigued with the notion of barefoot-style running – an approach to improve form, overcome and prevent injury, and rekindle the joy of the sport. I bought a pair of Vibram KSO’s and started experimenting with them, having a blast, but trashing my calves every time I ran. I knew it was going to be a long process, but it was a fulfilling one, mainly because every other injury and problem I’ve had as a runner over the years melted away, especially the sesamoiditis under the ball of my left foot, which seemed totally counter-intuitive, since I had no padding at all under the problem area (read the treatments on the website and see what I mean about it being counter-intuitive). Combine this new-found fun with the experience I had at Western States and something completely exciting, challenging, and beneficial had begun, which fits my personality perfectly. I love to exercise in unique ways outdoors, I love to learn, and I love a good challenge. Voila – instant passion! Not only was I determined to get better at barefoot running, but I also knew that an ultra must be in my future, even if **only** a 50-miler. Whether or not I will officially become an ultrarunner is yet to be seen.

As often happens when I’m inspired by a new passion, I research the hell out of it. I started reading everything I could find on the interwebs, watched YouTube videos, scoured race reports and performance studies, and I’ve come across some awesome stuff. One particular blog that I’ve been following that has ramped up my passion is Jason Robillard’s Barefoot Running University. Not only is he a solid writer with wit and humor, but he is extremely informative, like-minded, and motivational. He has viewed his barefoot running and ultrarunning as one more piece in leading an awesome life of meaning, on which I will be writing more later. In any case, his blog, along with my interactions with Joe since that momentous day last June, have inspired me to make 2012 The Year of Being Awesome! I want to take life by the horns and truly make some positive changes in my life – ones that will lead to greater improvement of my person, not only physically, but mentally, spiritually, relationally and any other –ally that applies. This is the reason for this blog. I hope that it can be my head check to keep me on track, not so much like homework that I must do, but a place to voice my thoughts and track my progress in a fun way. It will include race reports, more “scientific” stuff on exercise and the body, general pontification and dumbassery, perhaps some footwear and gear reviews, and any other topic I find noteworthy and relevant. It seems to me, however, that every blog should have some sort of theme, so that it doesn’t start out talking about ultrarunning and end up discussing the benefits of breeding yaks and cows together (otherwise known as yattle). Thus it has been decided…

In Search of Badass

After a bit of contemplation and consideration, it seemed to me that all of the athletic endeavors I embark upon, along with the goals I have to lead an awesome and meaningful life, can be summed up as the quest to become a total badass. Now then, there are any number of definitions to be found on urbandictionary.com in regard to the word “badass,” but I think the following will suffice for now, summarized in three points;

1. Intelligent

2. Technically proficient

3. Driven by challenge

ex. Performs cutting-edge heart surgery while listening to
Widespread Panic

Now I can’t say much in regard to Widespread Panic except for a few tracks I have on a mixed tape and seeing them by chance at a music festival in Germany when I was in college, but I think the three statements above are quite accurate for what I’m trying to achieve here, and I'll elaborate more on the topic later. Whether it deals with me personally or relates to someone who is already badass or has done something badass, it’s all fair game. It should be noted that although I may have done some badass things in my life, I do not feel that I am near the qualification of being a badass yet. It may be a long and arduous process, perhaps never yielding full results, but it’s gonna be damn fun along the way! Won’t you join me for some badassery?

Coming soon…

- More on inspiration

- Badass in-depth

- Bacon?