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American River 50!

With 3 miles to go, I found myself doubled over with exhaustion and stumbled to a low fence post to sit down.  These ultramarathons, I've learned, are about nutrition, forward motion, and a series of cons.  I was down on all three counts.

My mistake came at mile 41 when I got it into my head that I might be able to dip under 10 hours.  We seem to be drawn to whole numbers for some reason (even though they are quite arbitrary).  I discovered a third or fourth wind (you stop counting and just go with it) as I made my way our of the Rattlesnake Bar aid station.  Julie and Daisy were there and I was feeling pretty good with 8 hours behind me.

So the con began anew.

I found myself running briskly on the twisty trails marauding up the American River knowing full well that at mile 47 I would be facing a 1000+ foot climb.  In fact, I had run it just two weeks ago.  I told myself that "you can only go so slow on the last part, why not steal some minutes by pushing now."

Those 6 miles were glorious, and then I hit the big hill.  Only, it was much steeper than I remembered, and despite my steady 200-300 hourly calorie diet, I was done.

I wobbled up the next mile to a final aid station for a Gu and some Coke and met Julie for the last 2 miles.  She took up the role as the con, and I tried.  Honestly, I tried.  But, my hamstrings were cramping, my hip flexors were cramping, and the hill just went on and on.

51 minutes for the last three miles.

I "sprinted" the last 50 yards and I sat down in the finish area with a very large grin.  10:01:10.  It isn't often you beat a prior time by 1 hour and 37 minutes.   I can chase 10 hours some other day.

Urban Dare San Francisco

I have been keeping an eye on the Urban Dare race for a couple of years and I finally got a chance to give it a go.  My good friend Hiyamallar brought some long time SF knowledge and his big MIT brain and we had a great time tackling this unique event.

The start involves a series of clues that must be solved. Fortunately, you can use hand held internet devices or event better -- you can call someone on the phone and have them look stuff up for you.  In our case, we called both Hiyamallar's brother and my wife Julie in an attempt to multitask.  Once you figure out the locations you plot them on a map and try to figure the most efficient route.

Here's the catch, you can only travel by foot or public transportation and San Francisco is hilly!

Each location requires your team to either photograph evidence that you were there (e.g. the photo here of us down by some tugboat on the Hyde Street pier), or to complete a "dare" in the form of a physical challenge.  The funnest of those was the "bucket brigade" that required casting a bucket on a line into the bay and hauling up water to fill up a larger container.

We huffed and puffed our way around the city (from the embarcadero to north beach, the wharf, pac heights, hayes valley, tenderloin, and on to SOMA) making a couple nice mass transit connections and a few wrong turns.

Unfortunately our top ten finish was torpedoed when Hiyamallar suffered a freak urban accident fracturing his finger on a parking meter!  He managed to complete the race but our judgement was clearly impaired and we blew 15 minutes getting to the last checkpoint when we were only 2 blocks away.

All in all it was good fun.  This is not an extreme event--anyone can participate.  It is also a fun way to get to know your city along with some arcane facts :-)

Just Too Far

I had the training and was loaded up with food but my attempt at 77 miles came up a bit short.  I seem to have a barrier at 50.  The good part about Headlands 50/100 is that it was in my back yard.  The bad part is that back yard is really hilly.

More than 8,000 ft. of and 8,000 ft. of down and not all vertical is created equal.  I long meandering fire road can make for a very speedy descent.  This event had lots of rocky and very steep descents that are tough on the joints!

Things started out promising as I found myself ahead of schedule as I crossed mile 22 but the next 13 miles were sun exposed on a treacherously narrow single track on the shoulder of Mt. Tam.  At mile 35 I was dejected but found Daisy (and Julie!) there to offer some support.  Revitalized, I had a scorching next 5 miles (still smiling at mile 40 below!) but then the wheels came off. 

The next 10 miles were beautiful (out of Muir Beach and then out of Tennessee Valley) but very painful -- sharp up and sharp down and as the day faded my left knee got progressively more sore.  I limped in (literally) taking 4 hours over the last 10 miles.  Mahir came with me on the last 5.  He was planning to join in on the final 25 but as the sun disappeared it was evident that my finish line was arriving early.

Fortunately, Julie had a Giorgio's pizza waiting at the 50 finish line. 

I gave it everything I had.

Thank you for all the words of encouragement.  When a friendly Indian woman in her fifties went cheerfully gliding by me at mile 48, I had to smile at how very mainstream feats of extraordinary determination seem to have become!  And when I saw the 30+ hour finish times of some of the folks who carried on to finish the 100 miles, I bow humbly to them.

Marin Nomenclature

I am now training to attempt 75+ miles as part of the Headlands Hundred next week.

Part of the fun of the running the Marin county trails are all the great names.

Here is my last route:

Dipsea Stairs

Dipsea Trail

Deer Park Road

Cardiac Hill

Old Mine

Matt Davis Trail

Coastal Trail

Willow Camp

Cataract

Mountain Theatre

Bootjack (u-turn)

Rock Spring

Old Railroad Grade

Hoo-Koo-E-Koo

Fern Canyon

Summit Ave

I turned around on Bootjack because I saw one of these!

Golapendu Plans to Swim From Alcatraz

My good friend Golapendu is now officially on the hook to swim from Alcatraz in 2009.  His busy schedule as GM and head chef at Ananda Fuara along with a passion for globe trotting is precluding an attempt this summer.

Bay swimming has seen a surge (no pun intended) of popularity in recent years.  Getting to the shore from Alcatraz isn't as daunting as it appears.  The water is cold and choppy.  Jumping off a ferry boat with no recourse is terrifying but with a wetsuit you aren't going to drown so once you stop freaking out you just have to keep moving forward in the general direction of land.

You do need to know how to swim and should feel comfortable swimming in a pool for an hour ;-)

Weather Western States Training Run

What a difference a year makes.  Last May, we went up to Foresthill to partake in the annual WS100 training run.  The first run is about 32 miles from Robinson Flat to Foresthill and it was HOT and dusty.

This year Durdam and Mahir are on the shelf so I made the trek solo.  Well, instead of temps near 90, it was in the low 40s!  For the first 30 minutes there was snow and sleet.  After that, just a steady cold rain for hours.

I'll be honest, with no sun and heat, it is less exhausting and you don't have to worry much about hydration.  On the flip side, it was horribly muddy and physically more demanding because of all the slipping and sliding.

It was so cold I had to keep moving and go faster (almost 2 hours quicker than last year!) because anytime I stopped (even for a minute or two) I started to get really cold really fast.

Happiness was the seat heater on max, the car temperature in the mid-eighties and the vents on high!

Fortunately, I have discovered trail shoes (Montrail all the way) and appreciate good socks.  Amazing that it took a few years to understand the basics of this nut job sport.

Today, I am enjoying cookies and doing nothing.

Wildflower Strikes Again

I confess, I wasn't trained.

Since doing the WF Long Course last year (2007), I only got out on my road bike twice so I was bracing for the worst.  Despite just a couple trips to the pool in the last few months, I was able to click off a pretty good swim.

I have no explanation for my surprising bike split.  I managed a full 8 minutes faster than last year and all I can think is that either my homespun yoga (strength??) or a relaxed attitude led me to be more patient and efficient.  I was out of T2 with a time of 3:55 and actually believed that I might make a bit of a performance jump.

Wrong again Flanders!

The first 4 miles went well and then that classic Wildflower hight eighties heat set in and I faded hard.  Amazing by mile 7, I could see that magical 6:20 time chasing me down.

So here you go, over the last four years, my times have been just 3:30 apart over 70 miles and 3 disciplines. Go figure!

6:23 (2005)
6:20 (2006)
6:24 (2007)
6:22 (2008)

One year, I'll have to do some serious training an turn in a respectable run :-)

Up To Speed

We are in the midst of a massive winter storm that is pounding northern California which has put all training on hold.  Actually, training would be a generous term.  At the moment I feel as though I am still recovering from 2007!

For some reason, I let slip on a couple recaps so this will be somewhat abbreviated.

Two weeks following White River, Durdam, Mahir, Nick and I found ourselves outmatched in our first ever 24 Hour adventure race (Kit Carson).  Durdam and Nick had their visions of earnestly competing for a top spot quickly readjusted during a 3 hour kayak that took us all over and across Lake Tahoe.  Ultimately that turned out to be the "easy" portion of a course that in all honesty probably would have taken us 48 hours to actually complete.

All of us were taxed by previous events and that was evident 6 hours into the race as we set off on an brutal orienteering course.  As the difficulty started to set in we found ourselves a bit demoralized; our competitive streak was brutally humbled.  We cut short the orienteering because the penalty for missing check points was consistently less than the time it was taking us to find (not find) them!

We tried to muster renewed enthusiasm for the bike course until we got the maps which revealed an insane amount of technical riding all in the dark and included a little jaunt down to Carson City (obviously followed by a climb back) not to mention some points that were on hillsides 1000 feet up from the trail.  Yes, dismount your bike and start hiking in the forest with bears uphill in the dark (it was a NEW moon) looking for a flag in the middle of the night.

Armed with some super sweet new bike lights, we set out into the darkness with the modest goal of making at least one (of 13!) bike checkpoints.  It was rough going.  Nick had a serious electrolyte imbalance and was sick to his stomach.  Durdam was recovering from the demoralizing orienteering. The speed he envisioned on the bike when he pasted power bars on his frame (tri-style) I jokingly referred to now as "bear bait."

After a few hours we found the first checkpoint and then with spirits a bit uplifted, we decided to set out for a second which involved riding the famous Flume trail.  Yes, miles of exposed Tahoe overlook in the dark.  Midway through this section we decided on a break and killed the lights to lie back and look at the heavens.  And then it happened.  Out in the middle of nowhere, 15 hours in, exhausted, giddy, and many miles from a point where we could end the madness, we looked up and saw the sky raining stars.

It turns out we managed to hit the peak of the Perseid meteor shower that night and that experience I am sure we'll all remember much more than any part of the race.

We eventually found a second CP, and then opted to descend to the lake on a few miles of sandy wash -- like skiing in the dark, before a contentious (if slightly dangerous), long, road ride back to Spooner Lake camp ground where after 17 hours we called it quits.

Only we still had to go pack up gear, drive miles back along the lake to pick up our kayaks and finally make it home.  Nick had a couple hours before having to drive back to Sacramento to catch a plane to Denver!

I think we were all spent for a couple months afterwards.

I relaxed during September doing organized Bay swims on the weekend including conquering the span of the Golden Gate Bridge which was an absolute thrill.

I waited until November before testing the legs again.  Mahir, Durdam, and I did some light training and then took part in the Quad Dipsea which was very fun in spite of the joint pounding from 18,000 vertical feet.

Which brings us to 2008.

I am signed up for the West Highland Way Race but mentally not completely committed.  We hope to finish a 24 hour adventure race in Colorado.  And they'll certainly be an odd ultra in the mix for fun and training.  This year's motto -- less is more!   Oh, the unintentional irony.

White River 50

A bit of catching up to do on the recaps.  Durdam, Mahir and I made the trip up to Seattle and then out to Crystal Mountain for the USATF trail running championships (aka WR 50) at the end of July and we had a pretty good time of it.

We arrived on Friday and after stocking up at Whole Foods we made the 90 minute drive to the foothills of Mt. Ranier for the scenic (read challenging) course that takes place with little fanfare but a lot of intensity.  Because this event has the Nationals moniker it draws from the hard-core nutter community with talent to spare.  A fare number of these folks are moving up from the marathon distance and still have some speed left. The others are just plain tough.

The race started at 7AM and we were good to go with our assorted drop bags -- ready for some nice trails and some pain.  For me, this race I might dare retell as "pleasant" if I were to leave out some of the ebbs.  I miscued on my Gu in the first 15 miles but discovered electrolyte replacement (Succeed) and was actually doing some serious running through the first 28 miles.  The course is split into into two halves and two major climbs (as in never-ending).  Save for an unexpected trip off a switch back for an emergency bathroom break, the first half went well and was capped with a tasty cheese and avocado sandwich.

The second climb just seemed to drag very slowly, up and up and up.  I had been warned about the false summit on the way to the second peak (Suntop) but it was still a drag.  I stopped at 37 for some PB&J and a banana and then girded myself for a very long descent on a dusty road.  Minutes and 2 advil later I found myself putting the slow-twitch hammer down and actually running most of the way to 43.

For a while I thought I had a shot at my PR (11:38 on a much easier course) or possibly even getting close to 11 hours but the last seven miles were a brutal tangled windy affair along the riverbed.  There were roots and trees and stumps and steep climbs.  The clouds had rolled in and the lighting was poor.  My lame attempts at short intervals gave way to frustration and finally anger when I was shot out onto a sand bed in the river and could find no clues as to the impending finish line.

Fortunately I popped out of the forest in time to recover from a typical ultra induced emotional low and found I still had legs enough to jog.  In fact, as I strode down to the finish line I couldn't help but think I easily had 100K or possibly 70 miles in me.

Durdam turned in an impressive 11:00:40 -- more than 1:45 faster than last year and an agonizing 40 seconds from the Western States qualifier.  Mahir debuted with a *scorching* 9:23, good for 40/144.

I was pretty pleased with my 11:50.  My body was in decent shape.  A few blackened toe nails but no real damage.  It was a good thing we suffered that WS training run abuse as this 50 didn't feel a whole lot more difficult (mostly because of the good trails/footing).

Some photos and video.

Devil's Thumb

It has been 14 years since my brother and I acted as support crew for a friend attempting the Western States 100 and that experience has certainly driven in part my recent foray into ultra trail running. Our friend, a British chap named Vikara, gritted his way to mile 90 before missing the cutoff.  At the time, our experience as supporting cast was a minor epic in and of itself because the WS100 sets up that way.  You have to drive 120 miles in order to get to mile 31.  It was like that, two nights of no sleep, intense heat, and even more intense boredom.

What we missed out on was the trail in between and where our empathy for our friend was ultimately disconnected.  Our return to Foresthill a few weeks ago with another coconspirator, Mahir, was a first step in completing that connection.

Every year, the WS folks put on a "training" weekend that consists of 3 days of point-to-point trail runs with aid stations to let runners enjoy some practice time on the vaunted course.  We made the trip up to tackle the route from mile 31 (where we sat without chairs so many years ago staring into the forest for several hours awaiting Vikara) to 62 (the past half-way point in Foresthill where apparently the race becomes a bit "easier").

With all nutter events like this you must suspend your sense of practicality and accept the experience for what it is.  After all, we were among just a select couple of hundred who decided that traumatizing their joints over Memorial Day Weekend would be a fun thing to do.

Fun has nothing to do with it, it never does. It is just a tidy adjective that creeps into discussion whenever a few weeks have past after a really long run. I did decide to tackle this attempt with a little less obsessive compulsive behavior.  It smarts to learn many years after adolescence that your self-perception doesn't entirely match reality.  I am coping.  In fact, I have made it my own challenge, to become "an easy going guy."

As it turns out, there is a stark difference between laid back and ill prepared, a line I hope to discover soon.  Gathering up our stuff at the motel as we were heading out for the big run, I found that I had forgotten my camelbak (just the little item that was going to supply me with water during a 7 hour run).  And in a fit of cavalier idiocy, I grabbed a pair of *cotton* socks and an oversized pair of running shoes.  To my credit, I was able to maintain a degree of chill and was able to bum a waste pack off some guy in the parking lot and make use of some gatorade bottles.

My feet were fine for exactly 8 miles.  Even now the blister pain is still wrapped in the memory. It took me just over 8 hours (Durdam clocked in at 7:30 and Mahir 6:30) to cover the heart of the WS100.  The first 20 miles went quite well (all things considered) as I became acquainted with the stretches between the colorful names I still had in memory: Last Chance, Devil's Thumb, Michigan Bluff.

The course is hard but in ways I hadn't really understood.  The footing can be really bad (loose leaves, hidden rocks); I saw several people fall face first.  The profile gets a bit monotonous -- long downhill that beats up your legs followed by long uphill that you must walk.  There were certainly parts of the West Highland Way (from last summer) that were technically more difficult and the midges of the Scottish highlands guarantee a constant level of discomfort.  But the WS100 is hot and dusty, big and burly, and I have to say tackling that stretch *after* having run 31 already (making it even warmer and your legs already tenderized) would be difficult to say the least.

Fortunately, this was just a training run and I took full advantage enjoying 10-15 minute soaks with other aching runners in the cold rivers at the base of each of the big descents.  A sight certain to be a bit odd to any outsider hiking in the woods.  In fact, my friend and avid kayaker, Andy, tells me that one hot summer day he and some friends ended up dragging their boats *down* Devil's Thumb to put in at the bottom only to encounter a steady stream of runners charging uphill in the other direction on what turned out to be a race day.  Two equally extreme species meeting in the wild.

The three of us met up back in town and headed back to our motel in Auburn with a stop along a river for a long soak.  As we climbed out of the canyon in our car we passed a few folks who had "extended" their training runs to 50+ still able to smile or wave and whose awkward gate may only serve to mask a monster physical fortitude.

It was the next morning as I walked gingerly to load up the car and encountered a couple of ladies many years my senior laughing as they set out to meet the rest of their flock for 20 miles on day two, it drove home the realization that many of these people are easy going but decidedly not cavalier.

Some more photos from the weekend.