tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53198308045269356162024-03-05T22:37:47.666-05:00Ultra-DannersMediocre running at its bestUltra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-28044812427015859732019-07-02T10:38:00.001-04:002019-07-02T10:40:56.475-04:00Bete Noire<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">"So I'll meet you at the bottom if there really is one</span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">They always told me when you hit it you'll know it. </span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">But I've been falling so long it's like gravity's gone and I'm just floating" </span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> - <i>Gravity's Gone, </i>Drive-By Truckers</span></div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span>
<br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">
</span>
<br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">On the verge of my dream race and I was a mess. I hadn't finished a race since Bigfoot 200 in August. I was running less and less. It felt like the burn out was slowly building to this moment. Somehow I made it through 300 miles of the Iditarod Trail and achieved a huge goal, but my sense of accomplishment and satisfaction was almost nil. </span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">This is where things are for right now. All my mistakes and all my successes have led to this point, which, for now, is not very pleasant. The things I used to enjoy, I don't so much. The running and racing that gave me goals to reach for and a social outlet, was now frustrating and unfulfilling. I've been careful to not wrap too much into racing, knowing one day it could (will) be gone. There are plenty of activities and hobbies to keep me busy the rest of my life. The problem is that I'm not that interested in doing much of anything at the moment. </span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Skipping daily runs eventually snowballed into not running at all. I've tried being part of a running group, which has provided a fun group to be around and helped get me out to run when I wouldn't otherwise. My participation there has also plummeted and I feel guilty about that on top of not running. </span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I signed up for several 100 mile races this year. Four to be exact. I've been holding out hope that things would turn around and maybe I could scrape up enough training to get by in at least one or two of them. Part of this post is me finally admitting to myself that I won't be running any of them. In the recent past I would have just tried gutting them out but I know that no amount of pushing will get me through in my current physical condition. </span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">On top of getting myself out of shape, suddenly the injuries that must have been just below the surface have appeared. My foot hurts with each step as I walk. Even if I wanted to run now, I would have to stop to help healing. This adds to the frustration. </span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">So now months after finishing my dream race, I'm deciding to call the rest of this year off. I need to find a way to start over and build my way back. I still have goals I want to attempt but sometimes I feel like time is slipping away. That's just the nature of getting older, I suppose. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: x-small;">Anyway, I'm working to get back to run the winter races I enjoy so much. I'm trying to find that motivation and excitement that were there before. Maybe that's a mistake. Maybe not. I will find out. If the journey is what it is about then this should be an interesting one. I can't wait to see where we end up. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I'm sure I'm not the only one who has had the expectation that finishing something very difficult would result in most, if not all my problems being solved. Even knowing this expectation is ridiculous, part of me still clings to it, desperately, looking for some answer, somewhere. I've been to enough finish lines to know that there is a moment of relief that the hard part is over but life still moves at its pace with no regard for what you've done or what you want. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<br />
<div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span>
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-11717003750329445352019-03-25T11:16:00.000-04:002019-03-25T11:16:39.379-04:00Next to the Northern Lights<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">"When the drugs quit you</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">As loyal as a fruit fly you'll mutter to yourself</span></div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">'You talentless fuck, good fucking luck</span></div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">
</span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Good fucking luck'"</span></div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>One Night in Copenhagen, </i>The Tragically Hip</span></div>
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGhsKUeCLqwoaAgOeqrg8O492ySSorYjqSPBGD8f01FjK7nNycPsEAflnHK7YTFA4auSS1U4q4AApgkG4b6OJsqCfL7C_oelc5FLaJObiVxVZGeto1wc9MotluOyV7JYNcvnOOJ3fSvR8T/s1600/20190227_164412.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGhsKUeCLqwoaAgOeqrg8O492ySSorYjqSPBGD8f01FjK7nNycPsEAflnHK7YTFA4auSS1U4q4AApgkG4b6OJsqCfL7C_oelc5FLaJObiVxVZGeto1wc9MotluOyV7JYNcvnOOJ3fSvR8T/s320/20190227_164412.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I didn't believe it was happening but it was. The bus pulled in and we exited. I took my sled from the bus and made a quick last check that I had everything. Entering the bar next to the start line, I sat down with some friends to eat a burger prior to setting off on a 300+ mile journey across the remote Alaska wilderness. I still could not believe I was here and going to do this. Alaska had been a childhood dream and here I was living it.<br />
<br />
It was sometime during the impressionable early stages of ultrarunning that I first heard that, yes, people run and ride bikes on the Iditarod route, just like the dogs. It was only a piece of trivia at that point. Something to know but never to try. It was not something a below average runner, like me, could even consider. Even after gaining some competence in winter ultras, I felt that I was in no way prepared for a race like that. I was probably right.<br />
<br />
Last March a discussion began with those that I had finished the Hrimthurs with the year before. Paul was already in ITI after winning Tuscobia and getting his name pulled for a slot. I thought 2019 might be the year but after a rough 2017 I began to think maybe I should wait another year. As usual, I was easily convinced to throw caution to the wind and apply to enter anyway. It was most likely I would get rejected and would need to do more work on my resume to earn an entry. It was a surprise to find out that I actually made it into the race. Deserving or not, I had some work to do to get ready.<br />
<br />
2018 turned out to be what I considered a bad year for running, carrying over poor results from the second half of 2017. The joy of racing was gone for some reason. I finished Bigfoot 200 but, in my opinion, it was only due to experience and stubbornness, not physical fitness. This race, in August, was the last race I had finished.<br />
<br />
Tuscobia and Arrowhead were intended to be practice runs this year for ITI. I failed to finish either of them. The desire was not there, either to train properly or to push through tough patches in races. All this increased my anxiety about going to Alaska. I did learn some things in those races that would help but my confidence was at an all time low.<br />
<br />
Flying into Anchorage, I got my first views of Alaska outside the plane window. It was overwhelming rugged and beautiful. The doubts and fear were increasing as I looked down at a frozen mountainous landscape. I didn't have any business trying to do this.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSwgxrWWG2aGyBLny3QfaEb6Yq4tEOQHe4umuTPtEo9xByert6Imp1JXcTBBh9ZElS4DEsILunSTiXck7IDwWEEvynQ2tKBpXLmJ3QJbJ3rMj_XJ6Abk_exkGACBe0uFc1A4MrJ1ahXMN4/s1600/20190221_153556.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSwgxrWWG2aGyBLny3QfaEb6Yq4tEOQHe4umuTPtEo9xByert6Imp1JXcTBBh9ZElS4DEsILunSTiXck7IDwWEEvynQ2tKBpXLmJ3QJbJ3rMj_XJ6Abk_exkGACBe0uFc1A4MrJ1ahXMN4/s400/20190221_153556.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Similar to my first time at Arrowhead, I looked around the room at the pre-race meeting, realizing these were remarkable people who, though unknown to most, had done incredible things with little or no recognition. I was somehow sitting here with them and felt a bit out of place.<br />
<br />
After a couple days hanging out in Anchorage, the time came to board the bus for the ride up to Knik Lake to start the race. The skies were clear and had been since I arrived. I didn't expect this good weather to last but I would take what I could get. After the ride and the burger, we made our way out to the start line. Time for a couple pictures and then suddenly everyone is off.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_NmnFxtDDNEow50xyZDS5hwg2vMBSAqjflV9ecJFVDene_S4r6YuVdvCAoVe_fhjZ8BjCczq3KYMRDZSp_5r2aOjH3oHPXxVzXApXtPUoPAhb1uzUTSMuIQrWwyaqFd1MHN9xCxkegdPL/s1600/20190224_171335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_NmnFxtDDNEow50xyZDS5hwg2vMBSAqjflV9ecJFVDene_S4r6YuVdvCAoVe_fhjZ8BjCczq3KYMRDZSp_5r2aOjH3oHPXxVzXApXtPUoPAhb1uzUTSMuIQrWwyaqFd1MHN9xCxkegdPL/s320/20190224_171335.jpg" width="320" /></a>The first few hours were easy going and relaxed as the trail wound westward. As the pack spread out, I began to realize that the only way to follow the trail was to follow the footprints of those in front of me, as the snowmobile tracks would often veer off in multiple directions. As dark set in, I had to rely on a GPS with route from a previous year on it. There were a few spots where foot racers were wandering about trying to find the trail. Eventually, we made our way down to the Yentna River which we would follow through the night.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4xYK2CPi8rW2QrTAZabQlm0gr6h09Di7l99VQHa3UOSC-8DxS_2JxEnIFAUx8X1j5Meu1yQXokNS5T9NYlinYFOFl9BPqfSuVxkD7u4DBupFlr37cuRkpBay7EJyOpI4Fw2jAGIjS7aq6/s1600/20190224_180800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4xYK2CPi8rW2QrTAZabQlm0gr6h09Di7l99VQHa3UOSC-8DxS_2JxEnIFAUx8X1j5Meu1yQXokNS5T9NYlinYFOFl9BPqfSuVxkD7u4DBupFlr37cuRkpBay7EJyOpI4Fw2jAGIjS7aq6/s320/20190224_180800.jpg" width="320" /></a>Moving along on the frozen river was strange at first. The river is wide and therefore there is no cover from the wind. In the dark, with only a headlamp, it felt like I was on a vast open plain. The river is typically the low point of the surround landscape so the temperatures would be noticeably lower.<br />
<br />
Approaching midnight, after a few hours on the river, I began to fight the sleep monster. Starting a race a 2 PM, I knew I would likely have to bivy, at least for short time, before going the 60 miles to the first checkpoint. I was also feeling that the temperatures were much colder than the forecast low of around 5 degrees. Eventually I decided to get in my sleeping bag to try to warm up and get a little sleep, which should help me get to the checkpoint in good shape.<br />
<br />
My sleeping bag is rated for -40 degrees. Despite this, I slept very little and shivered for close to an hour. It was very cold. Later, one of the race directors would tell me it was -30 F that night. Cold indeed. Giving up the fight to sleep, I got up and tried to quickly pack everything back up. Moving briskly down the trail to try to stay warm, it became clear to me that, 30 miles from help in either direction, that if I had any survival instinct, I had better keep moving with some purpose. Much more so than ever at any other race, I felt that the danger was real. How much so is debatable I suppose but it was jarring in the moment. I wanted to be a part of this and now I was in it up to my neck.<br />
<br />
The sun did not rise as much as it slid upwards at an angle slightly above the horizontal. The distant mountains to the north and west provided great scenery. I continued to follow the Yentna River towards the first checkpoint. I felt better with the sun up and warmer temperatures. I was very eager to get to the station for some hot food and sleep and was within a half a mile when I watched a moose cross an open field and stop right next to the trail to eat. I ended up sitting on my sled for about 10 minutes waiting for the moose to leave before moving along.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-w3tB7Ljnjlehx24uo1PhIkmPwdqrE2ztVS8DbPUTilqNgbpZyPRZrdq134-B8sHe3lYjD3C6eXNQ6bsDG2Vby3n2db-C-VvMTnC6IT3MBPrvEIVsOgx_k-yNPBTg_sNbxl2hXh_G9DQ/s1600/20190225_160233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-w3tB7Ljnjlehx24uo1PhIkmPwdqrE2ztVS8DbPUTilqNgbpZyPRZrdq134-B8sHe3lYjD3C6eXNQ6bsDG2Vby3n2db-C-VvMTnC6IT3MBPrvEIVsOgx_k-yNPBTg_sNbxl2hXh_G9DQ/s320/20190225_160233.jpg" width="320" /></a>The lodge served grilled cheese and soup. I hung clothes up to dry and slept for about an hour. In retrospect, I should have slept a bit longer here as there would be very few places for good sleep in this race. After a couple hours, I set off again along the river towards the next checkpoint at Skwentna, 30 miles away.<br />
<br />
Very soon it was early evening and the sunlight faded away. Again I was struggling with sleep as it grew dark and cooler. This night, however, though cold was much warmer than the previous night. I was told at the first stop that there was a "trail angel" about half way through this section. Moving along the river I was surprised to see a house and several building that had electric lights on. Assuming this might be that half way stop, I thought I would go in to warm up and get some food. I wandered around the buildings, trying to follow where the foot and bike tracks went but didn't see any indication of them going into any of these building. As I gave up and walked away, I heard a voice calling out. I turned and went in to what turned out to be what I suppose you could call an unofficial trail angel. I was given a bowl of chili and was able to get a short nap.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWLKg0pInMr9UafzYIzvQMqq8Akv76KP0q0RH9Gb-xV0YLeuDL-SG1PYYJs2BmVSIOdOferQ2G4ZXnKtK18qDydOniW_V7VsQghtpxSvNcdKeDpw0ZdxQm-fxtvn6g_1tCssoIOd8sD8aW/s1600/20190226_082319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWLKg0pInMr9UafzYIzvQMqq8Akv76KP0q0RH9Gb-xV0YLeuDL-SG1PYYJs2BmVSIOdOferQ2G4ZXnKtK18qDydOniW_V7VsQghtpxSvNcdKeDpw0ZdxQm-fxtvn6g_1tCssoIOd8sD8aW/s320/20190226_082319.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was back on trail by midnight. After several hours moving along the frozen river, I arrived at the second checkpoint, hungry and ready to sleep again. This checkpoint was crowded despite the large size of the main room. Gear was strewn and hung at every available location to dry. I ate a rather large plate of lasagna and went to lie down for a couple hours again. I was still feeling hungry after waking up so I added a large plate of biscuits and gravy to my bill and left feeling very good.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcUU92PuaglJ0-Bv8dSrCuYQi9PMC06yI7rNevAnqKEKQCMy4xv1BO2nL2g-0FrnqV3AoeTssekVLYjjVmKdRh4WcK-O6-rPDm2Mv17Lru0UTcXBVInQXKxcSg3luPUPEVxuDyZFwpLpg/s320/20190226_082903.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast of champions (and slow folks like me)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcUU92PuaglJ0-Bv8dSrCuYQi9PMC06yI7rNevAnqKEKQCMy4xv1BO2nL2g-0FrnqV3AoeTssekVLYjjVmKdRh4WcK-O6-rPDm2Mv17Lru0UTcXBVInQXKxcSg3luPUPEVxuDyZFwpLpg/s1600/20190226_082903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcUU92PuaglJ0-Bv8dSrCuYQi9PMC06yI7rNevAnqKEKQCMy4xv1BO2nL2g-0FrnqV3AoeTssekVLYjjVmKdRh4WcK-O6-rPDm2Mv17Lru0UTcXBVInQXKxcSg3luPUPEVxuDyZFwpLpg/s1600/20190226_082903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAbaQeUuaqkl1ngFrZC8xFnzKCfL6AgiP8n2j2B68uRrH5AmhIPtL6GpuWFa05gTbW1bCtjghevCcl0-1Kgyqy2QMSkqglFa2N6Ay0KO7G3IBGWcIxkG6el1NUDPZHzj1hMUPDE5iT_w5J/s1600/20190226_095109.mp4" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAbaQeUuaqkl1ngFrZC8xFnzKCfL6AgiP8n2j2B68uRrH5AmhIPtL6GpuWFa05gTbW1bCtjghevCcl0-1Kgyqy2QMSkqglFa2N6Ay0KO7G3IBGWcIxkG6el1NUDPZHzj1hMUPDE5iT_w5J/s320/20190226_095109.mp4" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCn8yrxeAd740kC2V8yRVhgaj5yU2aowUwfVpiJp5Q3qCJC7p1WldIHgLdljtFERC_YtwkZw2ZWzs6mz-oouWdBeLKdaaTIjzmV4jw4P4hys4AgVmQIjYR7CdBTcRCOIzlmwDvU75XCqgX/s1600/20190226_113320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCn8yrxeAd740kC2V8yRVhgaj5yU2aowUwfVpiJp5Q3qCJC7p1WldIHgLdljtFERC_YtwkZw2ZWzs6mz-oouWdBeLKdaaTIjzmV4jw4P4hys4AgVmQIjYR7CdBTcRCOIzlmwDvU75XCqgX/s320/20190226_113320.jpg" width="320" /></a>The next 20 mile section to Shell Lake was one of the high points for me. The weather continued to be clear and warmer during the day, maybe in the teens or low 20s. I was full of food and felt positive. The views of the snowy mountains were beautiful. The trail was firm and easy to move along. Everything was going right. Despite this I was still ready for a break upon arriving at the Shell Lake lodge, which served a delicious burger. I made the mistake of drinking a couple Coca Colas before trying to take a nap. The caffeine had me buzzing so I gave up and set off to the next stop at Finger Lake.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoklSikxtA67DpA0zpKaicxuTShY3KGdpi955odu4RKAZXnAYGD2tMcqi5b-Z5UHYvkqMRXpxC4rIKtK775nxrf2XFgrv7EbQrP0bLFTLJXYUawEeI8C4xrlsUcZjX6lyezUr43Xb9yGz7/s1600/20190227_121612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoklSikxtA67DpA0zpKaicxuTShY3KGdpi955odu4RKAZXnAYGD2tMcqi5b-Z5UHYvkqMRXpxC4rIKtK775nxrf2XFgrv7EbQrP0bLFTLJXYUawEeI8C4xrlsUcZjX6lyezUr43Xb9yGz7/s320/20190227_121612.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6C5axeBC59xr1rl-2AGRkd4jcxQoPpOLGo_OUsLtNJjsoQn78WnN1KzL4DSTtoHCb8sM_1jHixvZiuEJHYxBfArU8d7oasfhTD_-DekW0e516bLqj1xra9cmavl5k4DVPm4p6UWxX0FQf/s1600/20190227_111755.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6C5axeBC59xr1rl-2AGRkd4jcxQoPpOLGo_OUsLtNJjsoQn78WnN1KzL4DSTtoHCb8sM_1jHixvZiuEJHYxBfArU8d7oasfhTD_-DekW0e516bLqj1xra9cmavl5k4DVPm4p6UWxX0FQf/s320/20190227_111755.jpg" width="320" /></a>Somewhere in this night things fell apart. I suspect that in my increasingly sleep deprived state I began to neglect food and water. The trail had moved off the relatively easy moving frozen rivers to an overland route that included the foothills of the approaching mountains. My patience became very short with small things, especially trying to figure out how to handle my wild sled going down hills. My irritation increased as I moved through the night. By the time I reached Finger Lake, I was desperate to sleep and eat.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcNT3HdmpBYrzvXeGXnGFez0EDHk4EVnBazCYbm39pVU0e2Jsfe2sqjPDm7fZYmxqcEPHvioZXRKkJsfV-IKNtQdIknjxGIt1AVF4ZqZY3i-6uN3rrK81uR1dWW2lOZQ8wvyDwGi-6Tinx/s1600/20190227_164410.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcNT3HdmpBYrzvXeGXnGFez0EDHk4EVnBazCYbm39pVU0e2Jsfe2sqjPDm7fZYmxqcEPHvioZXRKkJsfV-IKNtQdIknjxGIt1AVF4ZqZY3i-6uN3rrK81uR1dWW2lOZQ8wvyDwGi-6Tinx/s320/20190227_164410.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyAbJwhFU9dXrURPvXxlUsm7Cuo7I0o4RWNNlZHkJ5gYoY_SIrrdhJDKqYdHwD3pecUwii8bzRM1eThpeSNRSjQg0hnVYFawTUhTuCuJqHW6FET_0yhC3H1puU_1zGf13N7PISfSVKtUSU/s1600/20190227_125207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyAbJwhFU9dXrURPvXxlUsm7Cuo7I0o4RWNNlZHkJ5gYoY_SIrrdhJDKqYdHwD3pecUwii8bzRM1eThpeSNRSjQg0hnVYFawTUhTuCuJqHW6FET_0yhC3H1puU_1zGf13N7PISfSVKtUSU/s320/20190227_125207.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I could see some faint lights as I neared the compound at Finger Lake. Not sure where to go, I went to a group of cabins and found one with a small sign saying to check in. I entered the tiny cabin which was very dimly lit. The only sound was someone snoring at the back. Tired and confused, I just wanted to get my first drop bag and sleep. On an empty bunk I found what looked like scattered drop bags. I tried to find mine but this turned out to be the spot where racers would discard extra food they didn't want to carry. I left the cabin to try to find out where I could sleep when I met a volunteer who had just woken up and had the drop bags in another cabin. After picking mine up I moved to a large tent set up near the lake for us to sleep in. Opening the flap I saw the floor nearly completely covered with sleeping bags and sleepers. The only open spot was angled right near the entry. I angrily threw my bag down in this spot and tried to sleep.<br />
<br />
This tent turned out to be marginally warmer than outside since no one had bothered to add wood to the stove set up n the corner. As I slept off and on for a couple hours, others would get up and noisily pack up and talk. After the feeling wonderful the day before, I had now reached a low point. Angry, tired and hungry I got up to get on my way to the next checkpoint in hopes I could recover there. I was given a cold rice and bean burrito, which was awful to eat, that did make me feel slightly better for a time.<br />
<br />
The hills continued over the next 26 miles on the trail to the Puntilla Lake checkpoint (approximately half way to McGrath). I gradually sank back to a low point. After making good progress along the rivers, my pace slowed down and I began to get impatient. This section ended up taking me 13 hours to go a marathon distance. By the time I reached the checkpoint, I was mentally broken and demoralized. Despite how much I wanted to be there, doing this thing, I wanted to quit. And I didn't want to just quit this race but any future race. Here I was again, making myself miserable to no purpose. All the negative thoughts were dominating me.<br />
<br />
A brief aside to discuss these low periods. Several people had told me this race would give me a chance to "find myself". I've heard this for other ultras before but figured the distance and difficulty would really make it true. It probably was true. Ultras do strip away the protective veneer on our personalities and reveal deep down thoughts and emotions. Whenever I hear talk of "finding yourself" it is presented as a positive but what if you don't like what you find. I certainly didn't. Impatience, anger, and a lack of will to continue. Maybe the lesson is to learn how to handle those things we all feel but at times in these events these feelings appear to be overwhelming. The peril felt in that apparent lack of control can be jarring. I considered that, just maybe, doing this isn't necessarily good. Even after a couple weeks of separation from this I am still struggling to determine what the answer is.<br />
<br />
I reached the halfway point at Puntilla Lake (aka Rainy Pass Lodge) feeling much the same way I did at Finger Lake. Desperate to quit, I told myself that I should eat and sleep before making the final call. After some warm food, I found a free bunk and slept off and on for what ended up being 12 hours.<br />
<br />
In the morning I finally decided to get up and head to the main lodge for breakfast. I felt better but not quite good enough to want to continue on. The breakfast was amazing and even included homemade donuts. By the time I was done eating, I was ready to tackle the mountain pass that was the next big obstacle. I told myself that the lows were due to my inattention to calories and hydration and to focus more on those. The realization that this may be my one chance at this race also fully sank in by now. So I set off determined to have a good attitude.<br />
<br />
After crossing Puntilla Lake, the trail made a steady ascent towards Rainy Pass, 18 miles away. The trail became a narrow strip marked by snowmobile, bike and foot tracks. Stepping slightly off the trail would result in sinking to knee or hip deep snow. The views were incredible as the mountains slowly surrounded me on all sides as I continued forward.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJkwozKEOGRIxXkG0FrPQW7PS3iJ27CkaUxAyf4fH9Ei-TybCqoSkIte2Wm2krz1LAsyTVXqydhto-TPo5WLvSWCdd_sUe3HnXcff8UlkMqP9xTVyYm5Z9rqB48TJJrYTLpfLbjeEOaq17/s1600/20190228_102752.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJkwozKEOGRIxXkG0FrPQW7PS3iJ27CkaUxAyf4fH9Ei-TybCqoSkIte2Wm2krz1LAsyTVXqydhto-TPo5WLvSWCdd_sUe3HnXcff8UlkMqP9xTVyYm5Z9rqB48TJJrYTLpfLbjeEOaq17/s320/20190228_102752.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNw_XpHvFdVqeO5fGhKMZiJBhbwhGhety-aZq3YB6FzDdaSJFTatv-bdCp7kRERLVmpHhQy9Py4icv47hHkjaQ_QSYQ0Awr27bkRFcbw55K7dgTi9fyfA8Q7gto41ck82NASrqDp8AeZpc/s1600/20190228_125926.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNw_XpHvFdVqeO5fGhKMZiJBhbwhGhety-aZq3YB6FzDdaSJFTatv-bdCp7kRERLVmpHhQy9Py4icv47hHkjaQ_QSYQ0Awr27bkRFcbw55K7dgTi9fyfA8Q7gto41ck82NASrqDp8AeZpc/s320/20190228_125926.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9fdfuQAY9u3WHZhr7hWJ-iyElyj5tTJjONOUVqjR88cPU-UtGpqZFDgg0514U6adpZNX18UOeaZbvJ_OiIMkpXm1R7SP2rpGanwwVZoOIi6ohRXuFBj5CHPbOCd2pbQEVe3uWg7xvV6c4/s1600/20190228_125938.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9fdfuQAY9u3WHZhr7hWJ-iyElyj5tTJjONOUVqjR88cPU-UtGpqZFDgg0514U6adpZNX18UOeaZbvJ_OiIMkpXm1R7SP2rpGanwwVZoOIi6ohRXuFBj5CHPbOCd2pbQEVe3uWg7xvV6c4/s320/20190228_125938.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I climbed gradually most of the day reaching the pass in the late afternoon, early evening. Shortly before reaching it, I did hear a couple distant booms, which I assumed were avalanches, which, being from flat Michigan, I was terrified of. Immediately after passing the sign that marked the pass, the trail descended into a narrowing gorge that required the trail to repeatedly cross a stream that was still unfrozen.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-mI204DvQOLxnA4dmxnPbbkLqfckBUNVXToNo3LVht4TzfjtPmDA-LONG5vXZWylM-eDIGNmKaGmmE1d6NT29zjsFMtfrunz8XgxSY2AJPNRJjEcBRXZZy1JUfB9P2-NZNdBfJN6zTg0f/s1600/20190228_183241.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-mI204DvQOLxnA4dmxnPbbkLqfckBUNVXToNo3LVht4TzfjtPmDA-LONG5vXZWylM-eDIGNmKaGmmE1d6NT29zjsFMtfrunz8XgxSY2AJPNRJjEcBRXZZy1JUfB9P2-NZNdBfJN6zTg0f/s640/20190228_183241.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQul6p1jK7B9y3SoHDe9pJx6rSAMyrcFjmBMfvCGWLmKRSTj9Hh6TpGc4Rr23CazGFAyTrwcDjrOI_uE-lTWJlyECZG0e3zqo-UjEQZMOuh6ueBgIWOJib20zwmOoAT8ax7dVhgqWjs7zt/s1600/20190228_175640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQul6p1jK7B9y3SoHDe9pJx6rSAMyrcFjmBMfvCGWLmKRSTj9Hh6TpGc4Rr23CazGFAyTrwcDjrOI_uE-lTWJlyECZG0e3zqo-UjEQZMOuh6ueBgIWOJib20zwmOoAT8ax7dVhgqWjs7zt/s320/20190228_175640.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Soon after beginning to make may way down to the checkpoint at Rohn, I caught up with a few other racers on foot. We more or less stayed together all the way into the station which was around 1 AM. This stop consisted of a single large tent. One side was stacked with pine branches and then covered with large cloth sacks. There was enough room for 8 people to lie side by side on this make shift bed. As four of us came in, the station had a first in, first out policy so the 4 that had been sleeping the longest were asked to get up to make room. It was difficult to watch them be awakened and told if they wanted to sleep, go outside. I took a narrow open spot, which was lumpy and slanted, with my head being a good 2 feet above my head.<br />
<br />
I somehow slept, but it was in short segments and uncomfortable. I became very frustrated as I felt I needed good sleep prior to the next section which was listed as 75 miles. Giving up on sleep around 4 AM, I packed up and decided to go as far as I could into the next section while I had daylight.<br />
<br />
The first few miles were some of the most peaceful I had on the trail. The sun was rising slowly as I moved between the mountains on both sides. Several areas were frozen over snow melt and very slippery. I tried walking carefully but after falling hard a couple times, I put on the $10 set of Walmart spikes over my shoes, solving the issue. By this time I was learning more than ever that taking a few moments to prevent a problem was the best approach. Far too often in these races I would just go forward, impatiently, and this simple revelation was a very good lesson.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvzzQ2qgFueJU0iR2QVZo72TaI5ZdF8gjphfxxuS0B1lGp18MDJvvSNjRVyhZZN7YfMsVscLhwqd3OUe-Zhid5jIpTIdxLNWkuVKF-sB_8O9KXVQrJEl21u_4cRM0SjJ69Ecbw104u_r9/s1600/20190301_083019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvzzQ2qgFueJU0iR2QVZo72TaI5ZdF8gjphfxxuS0B1lGp18MDJvvSNjRVyhZZN7YfMsVscLhwqd3OUe-Zhid5jIpTIdxLNWkuVKF-sB_8O9KXVQrJEl21u_4cRM0SjJ69Ecbw104u_r9/s320/20190301_083019.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Before long the trail entered a forest fire scarred area. There was no longer much cover from the sun which melted the reduced amount of snow on this side of mountains. The days were getting slightly warmer, so controlling sweating was important, as it had been from the start. The hills were starting to get relentless and to add to the difficulty in this section, long stretches of trail were clear of snow. Pulling a loaded sled across dirt and rocks is rather difficult, especially at 200 miles of a 300+ mile race. On a couple of the hills I picked the sled up and carried it on my head which seemed easier than pulling.<br />
<br />
I could feel the negative, low swing coming and determined to stay positive. I was successful most of the day despite the difficulty and struggle through this section. There down moments but I was well into the second half and the finish was starting to appear attainable.<br />
<br />
Early in the evening I found a nice spot under a few pines to bed down for a few hours. I hated to lose the daylight but needed the sleep. I woke up when the group I had been with at Rohn passed by. The sun was setting as I packed up and moved on. I only made it another 4 hours or so before I felt I needed to try sleeping again. Another couple cold hours and little sleep.<br />
<br />
These stops were unremarkable at the time but at one of these or along the way, my stove, which I needed to melt snow for water, was lost. When I realized this, I was filled with panic. How would I get another 40 miles to Nikolai with no water. Luckily there was a shelter cabin set about a mile off the trail, which I initially planned on skipping but now I would have to stop there.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHtb5IhGmYsdhEKjYtZ1si66k32ettn_Z5aLMI3VI2JEGXNaay3K9wUyQ2vMEsQcHDus7tLCYbXcEXgVlOt-FvEB_4memrLgM1oyLCSfOJAFep8qcCCh5oHjZK3BbtMiXcyznzez3Hp2h/s1600/20190302_130704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHtb5IhGmYsdhEKjYtZ1si66k32ettn_Z5aLMI3VI2JEGXNaay3K9wUyQ2vMEsQcHDus7tLCYbXcEXgVlOt-FvEB_4memrLgM1oyLCSfOJAFep8qcCCh5oHjZK3BbtMiXcyznzez3Hp2h/s320/20190302_130704.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
When I reached the cabin the next morning, the group that passed the night before was already there. The skies had also become cloudy and a light snow began to fall. The wood stove provided barely enough heat to melt enough snow to half fill my water bottle. That and an hour or so of sleep would be enough to get me to Nikolai.<br />
<br />
This stretch to Nikolai was a straight trail, crossing numerous frozen lakes and rivers. At times it was difficult to see where the trail was due to the freshly fallen snow, especially out on lakes. The loose snow made footing tough at times but in the night the trail hardened up and became easier to move on. After 13 or 14 hours I approached Nikolai, which, unlike the other checkpoints, is a small community of dozens of people.<br />
<br />
My feet were soaked from the wet snow. I was famished. I had a fitful night of sleep on the floor of the community center. Waking up I thought about the final 50 miles left. It seemed impossible the way I felt. Once again it was food that turned things around. I ate as much I could and set off one last time.<br />
<br />
The day was the warmest yet, probably approaching 40 degrees F. The trail softened up again making the early going difficult. The end was in sight, however, and I was determined to just push through to the finish. I just tried to keep from sweating and to keep moving forward.<br />
<br />
Late in the night, the trail emerged out onto what looked like a road with snow piled up on each side. That's because this was a road, despite it leading to nowhere, with nothing. I would follow this road the rest of the way into McGrath. The sun rose as the town came into view. A couple miles out from the finish, I saw the first car I had seen for week. I strolled along, reflecting on all that had happened over the last week. It still did not seem real.<br />
<br />
I have mentioned in other race reports about the anticlimactic nature of ultramarathon finishes. This one topped them all. I reached a driveway with a sign hanging out front. After 300 plus miles, I took my own finishing picture because everyone else was inside the house sleeping or eating.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlpDOYKJ4Z-bys6EQ18nRsy64a8BnB1tRW3uZcKixQBWKI0uK2enlUCnoetltjiY3JRQn0iAOVU4qPteUjwL8w0A9oAnn7LMvXhuJb1H69oAPdSEP9iBwrbjaAVoQwqFm4IJpAI38HTgf-/s1600/20190304_090407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlpDOYKJ4Z-bys6EQ18nRsy64a8BnB1tRW3uZcKixQBWKI0uK2enlUCnoetltjiY3JRQn0iAOVU4qPteUjwL8w0A9oAnn7LMvXhuJb1H69oAPdSEP9iBwrbjaAVoQwqFm4IJpAI38HTgf-/s320/20190304_090407.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finish Photo credit: me<br /><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And yes, the finish was at a family's house. The generosity of someone opening their home, providing food, showers, laundry, etc. is incredible but very much in the spirit of the race. Whether at checkpoints or unofficial stops, everyone was helpful and friendly. It was refreshing. And just like that, my dream race was complete. I only had a chance to eat and shower before I was off to board the tiny plane back to Anchorage.<br />
<br />
There was so much more that happened but every detail can't be recorded or this blog would be even more unreadable. There were moments of pure joy, stretches of time where everything was perfect. Most nights I could look over to my right and see the aurora borealis arcing just over the horizon, providing magical scenery along my journey. The brief and infrequent interactions with others along the trail provided inspiration. The ever changing views of the mountains and forests along the way will be forever in my memory.<br />
<br />
There were also moments of desperation, where it seemed like every fiber of my being was screaming at me to find a way out of the situation I was in. I was ready to quit multiple times. I was ready to quit ultrarunning forever. At these times, it is difficult to see any purpose in travelling on foot across the Alaskan wilderness. I'm still not sure what the purpose is as I said earlier.<br />
<br />
I'm reminded often by others that I have finished some hard races but I can't help thinking that, just maybe, they aren't as hard as most think when someone like me can finish them. My expectation of stoically pushing through and finishing strong never happens so why hold that as ideal? What I keep coming back to is that what I find in those dark times will be ugly and it will be very uncomfortable. The true goal may be in recognizing these faults and seeking ways to improve instead of dwelling on them. Still though, I'm struggling with that.<br />
<br />
A few days after the race a friend asked me what epic adventure I had next. I was taken aback because I had no answer and realized I hadn't even thought about it. There are days when I think it may be time for a long break or to quit this all together. How do you follow up something you worked years to get to do? I still don't know. My desire and motivation has been sapped over the last couple years. I'll have to let time work that out.<br />
<br />
There it is in a not so tidy package. Overall, it was an adventure that I will never forget. I was able to spend time there with a couple of my Hrimthur friends, Paul and Jeff. It was a great chance to catch up and get to know each other even better. I also met a number of new winter ultra folks, all of whom I am very fortunate to know. I am also grateful to each and everyone who followed along. Knowing you're watching keeps me going. We'll see where we go from here.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-68213466129945241092019-02-06T11:00:00.001-05:002019-02-06T11:00:38.440-05:00Requiem for the Rambler<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKF3WBwXbw-S5ebvUjHkYy5OIGU2BodlzZHdWsPpRgGAB3GSET4cGEErr9EwOhyphenhyphenUGGgKgy3jNPWHoErhyH-xUWqqCFFu43XCR1thyphenhyphensvqs2zHWc77Ih0Pk89jUX5ArDCZq2cF_Zo8UWnJVM/s1600/50898553_10156872795313516_4133707427407200256_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="351" data-original-width="354" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKF3WBwXbw-S5ebvUjHkYy5OIGU2BodlzZHdWsPpRgGAB3GSET4cGEErr9EwOhyphenhyphenUGGgKgy3jNPWHoErhyH-xUWqqCFFu43XCR1thyphenhyphensvqs2zHWc77Ih0Pk89jUX5ArDCZq2cF_Zo8UWnJVM/s320/50898553_10156872795313516_4133707427407200256_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My last trail time with the Rambler. Arrowhead 2018</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The Arrowhead 135 is supposed to be difficult. This year was only my third attempt and it was the most difficult of all, for many reasons. I'll spoil the story by saying up front that I did not finish the full course. However, that matters little to me now.<br />
<br />
Going into a winter ultra the words "polar vortex" will get your attention. Driving to International Falls, the temperatures reached that magic point where the 2 scales cross at -40. It is a magic number we use in the auto industry as an extreme lower limit of vehicle and component testing. This was the weather our little winter ultra family was going to spend a couple days in, wandering about the northern Minnesota wilderness. I was concerned but also looked forward to solving the puzzle that the elements can be.<br />
<br />
It turned out that I didn't figure it out. From the first mile I started sweating. I opened up coats to try to cool off. I even stopped to remove a layer. I tried slowing down, especially on hills. No matter what I did I just kept getting wet, which just leads to issues.<br />
<br />
Arriving at the first checkpoint later than I really wanted to was frustrating but I was still in good shape to finish. My feet were in excellent condition, so at least I seemed to figure out that mystery for the time being. I ate some food, took care of my feet and tried drying my wet clothes. All this took me far too long as I saw many other runners dealing with the same issues, some of those dropping from the race here. I got my gear together and set out into the night, knowing that getting to the halfway point would be the key to finishing. Once there, I felt I could power through to the finish like I had done on the previous attempts.<br />
<br />
The night was noticeably colder but my sweating issue was not improving. Now the problem of staying awake was creeping in. There were brief periods of feeling I had found the optimal temperature, where I could move along at a good pace without large swings in body temperature. These were short and rare though and I as I finally reached the crossing at Sheep Ranch Road (used as a base for the snowmobile crew checking on our safety), the periods of being cold were becoming longer and colder. I thought about stopping here but told myself that I should get to the next checkpoint and sleep before deciding to quit. Often things turn around radically with even the shortest nap. So I put my head down and moved down the trail<br />
<br />
Within a quarter mile I was regretting my decision. The thought of turning around and returning to the road to quit became relentless. With each step I was getting further away and more committed to getting to the next checkpoint. As I kept moving I started to pass runner coming back from the other direction. They had made the decision I still couldn't make and this was making it even more difficult. But I kept going.<br />
<br />
Finally, after what must have been two hours of staggering from sleepiness, I heard the sound of a snowmobile approaching from behind me. I was getting cold and had begun scanning the sides of the trail for a place to bivy for a bit. When he pulled up next to me it was very easy to tell him that I was done. My desperation to finish had led me to accept a 14 mile snowmobile ride at -30 degrees. It was long and miserable. This will be remembered vividly the next time I want to quit a winter ultra.<br />
<br />
Another DNF for me. This one didn't matter. I could have gone further. I may even have been able to finish somehow but I didn't. The decision was the right one as far as safety is concerned.<br />
<br />
<br />
Now the part I never wanted to get to.<br />
<br />
My first memory of Randy was at the pre-race meeting for my first attempt at Tuscobia in 2016. His appearance alone made me think this was an interesting person. It wasn't until the next year I began to get to know him over the weeks that 6 of us finished the Order of the Hrimthurs on foot. All of us formed a bond over those weeks. It is not often you get to share an experience like that with someone. We shared the suffering and the joy that comes from accomplishing something difficult. I am thankful that as the 6 of us all sat together in a tiny room after finishing, that I was mindful that it was a special moment. We had completed this difficult task together and were spending this brief time in the joyful afterglow.<br />
<br />
During the last race of that series, at Actif Epica, my GPS unit failed early in the race, leaving me with no way to finish. Randy, who was near by just handed me his and stated he didn't know how to use it and we could just stick together. We stuck together for the better part of the race. Through the rural Manitoba night we talked about music, politics (Randy's favorite), races we had run, our families. The story he told me of his life had both of us in tears as we trudged alone through the dark.<br />
<br />
Years earlier Randy had tragically lost a young child and then his wife. He could have been forgiven for becoming a bitter, angry person but he was the exact opposite. He was silly. He was funny. He brought joy to those around him. This made it all the more painful when we were told the news last October. Just a month after finishing the Tahoe 200 mile race, he was diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia that was basically incurable. <br />
<br />
The message that he was stopping treatment and going home reached me on my drive up to this year's Arrowhead. I ran the race with a very heavy heart though it led me to realize something I already knew was true. No one talking about Randy cared about if he had finished races or not. His finish times didn't matter. The joy he brought to others is what we remember. That is what any of us will be known for in the end.<br />
<br />
At some time while many of us were struggling and quitting our race, Randy left us. He spent his last days surrounded by family and friends. In ancient Greece, Solon the Athenian told King Croesus to consider no man happy until his death. I hope that the outpouring of love for Randy gave him that happiness and showed him the positive impact he had on all of our lives.<br />
<br />
Somewhere in that cold night near Winnipeg, Randy talked about a writing class he was taking. He told me how he had been assigned to write a short story but it couldn't be about yourself. Randy wanted to write about his story and asked what I thought he should do. I told him that is was his story, his art and to just write whatever he wanted. If he felt he needed to share it, then share it regardless of the assignment and we left it there. Since then I have wondered if he ever wrote that story and what it said. In the days since his passing I have realized he wrote a story for each of us that knew him. I'll always cherish the story he gave me. I loved the man. I miss my friend.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPcXVOugcT3gC6ojjs9uFJZUXUjhb8Zxrb3v_kCYbUR5vbt_OMUvRudCH57e00WTHiU4c1_EF7mx683w3RtGAljnTQbM-doeaFTORk6UIZiPGV8hQMJ3E9FihgMJ-zIuv_alQHpfE5iarB/s1600/50799521_10156867503988516_4825042611960020992_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="542" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPcXVOugcT3gC6ojjs9uFJZUXUjhb8Zxrb3v_kCYbUR5vbt_OMUvRudCH57e00WTHiU4c1_EF7mx683w3RtGAljnTQbM-doeaFTORk6UIZiPGV8hQMJ3E9FihgMJ-zIuv_alQHpfE5iarB/s320/50799521_10156867503988516_4825042611960020992_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-47660487697709644222019-01-07T08:41:00.001-05:002019-01-07T08:41:51.995-05:00The Great RegressionThis may be a long post or it may be short. I don't know since I am coming into with nearly no planning or preparation whatsoever. Let's just wing it and see how it turns out. Probably not well given the way that method seems to be working in races.<br />
<br />
My 4th Tuscobia and 3rd attempt at the 160 mile distance. Since my DNF at Yeti at the end of September, I have been trying to get back into a training mode but never did find the motivation or desire. I had some good training days but a vast majority of the time I struggled to get out the door and even then I wouldn't do much. My weekly mileage barely got over 40 miles at the peak, mostly hovering around 20 or 30. From experience I know that I should be getting 70 to 80 a week to be fairly confident in finishing a 100 miler or longer. Right now I'm not even close.<br />
<br />
The days leading to this year's race were spent repeatedly checking the weather forecast for snow. As of just two or three days prior, there were still portions of the trail with no snow. If the race began with no snow, this would completely change the method of getting myself and my required gear from start to finish. Luckily there did end up being enough snow to cover the course, however, the conditions were much less than ideal.<br />
<br />
The start was the warmest since my first attempt. I wore a base layer and a heavier weight running jacket. I still had to manage the heat to avoid sweating and getting very cold. The trail was still firming up so the first miles were not too bad if you could avoid the puddles covered with a thin layer of ice.<br />
<br />
I reached the town or Birchwood (16-17 miles) between 4 and 5 hours in. I was already feeling a little tired and sleepy but not very much more than previous years. After all the worrying about lack of training and fitness, I thought that I might be ok. I made a quick stop at the local gas station for a bite to eat and then headed off for the first checkpoint at mile 45.<br />
<br />
The frustration began slight before the checkpoint. It was taking longer than I thought it should, but it always seems that way so I should not be surprised. Still I let it bother me that I wasn't meeting my unrealistic time goal.<br />
<br />
Upon reaching the checkpoint, which is a large stone cabin, heated by a large fireplace at one end. Like always, the inside was crowded and uncomfortable, even if it was more comfortable than outside. I spent an hour eating, organizing gear and trying to dry my feet, which had started getting hot spots way too early. Much of this race is about managing the damage your feet take.<br />
<br />
I left around the same time as previous attempts, so I was still in good shape. It was well into the night now and the struggle with sleep ramped up quickly. Over the next 10 hours I wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep, even for a few minutes. Through a very long stretch of ungroomed trail, the balls of my feet became giant blisters. It became increasingly difficult to eat or drink as I felt I was forcing down anything I tried to take in. The food that had worked in the past was unappetizing now. As the miles went by, I was falling further into the hole.<br />
<br />
The final 8 miles seemed to take an eternity, as I know from experience, it always does. Despite my attempts to remain positive, I had given in to negative thinking and decided that there was nothing to be gained from pushing through another 80 miles and getting the finish. Logically it is probably still the right decision with Arrowhead and ITI coming up shortly. Still, it bothers me that I gave up and didn't finish. It has bothered me more than I thought it would. In the past, I could get through these negative episodes but lately I am struggling to find any reasons to push through. The question of why we put ourselves through this type of discomfort for no real reason is constantly running through my head. The answer used to be that it will make me a better person, but lately it feels like it only makes me miserable just for the sake of being miserable.<br />
<br />
So again, I failed my main goal for this race. However, the larger goal is Iditarod and I have learned a few things that should be very helpful there. Improved foot care and eliminating gear that is not critical (and therefore, sled weight) are the two major areas that can be improved. Arrowhead in a few weeks will be another chance to work on these and more.<br />
<br />
Despite my disappointment and frustration, I still have my major goals in front of me. I can still continue to work my way through this and ,eventually, I believe the desire and results will return. <br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-69519103668990103232018-10-04T09:52:00.002-04:002018-10-04T09:52:23.621-04:00Unicorns, Rainbows & Failure<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJ5rgdSs2lzsQ99psnltUYRy7JW7RPs7XsncXXP22bWDbdSayvXGoS-Km9Odg_dnTspKTqaYGQq2FChUjCsmVFZ7XSPkH-WCYUJA83FV7d6VvvOCxhMDQDdHbF1iHtRF7Hy0UCaIuF0LK/s1600/42434996_2244259519188024_6142194191268052992_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJ5rgdSs2lzsQ99psnltUYRy7JW7RPs7XsncXXP22bWDbdSayvXGoS-Km9Odg_dnTspKTqaYGQq2FChUjCsmVFZ7XSPkH-WCYUJA83FV7d6VvvOCxhMDQDdHbF1iHtRF7Hy0UCaIuF0LK/s320/42434996_2244259519188024_6142194191268052992_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The buckle that got away<br />credit: Yeti Trail Runners</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I attempted the Yeti 100 mile run this past weekend. I say attempted because I failed to finish. Yes, I have failed once again and its all ok.<br />
<br />
The Yeti 100 has become very popular the last couple of years and I was very lucky to get in. It required me to sit by the computer and begin registering the very moment it opened. After meeting race director Jason Green last year, I was committed to running this race. He is one of the very best at what he does.<br />
<br />
The race runs on a rail to trail course in southwest Virginia, which is a beautiful place I likely never would have seen without this silly hobby of mine. The Virginia Creeper Trail runs a bit over 33 miles from Abingdon to Whitetop. It is very flat but also much more scenic than I expected. Most of the course follows a river closely, which you cross over many times. In fact there are 46 trestles to pass over with each transit of the trail.<br />
<br />
In order to get the full 100 miles, we began at Whitetop, the high point of the route. From there the race runs to Abingdon, back to Whitetop and then return to Abingdon to finish. A total of around 3000 feet of climbing and zero technical trail makes this easier than most 100 milers, at least on paper. All this being said, a 100 miles is never easy.<br />
<br />
The night prior to the race there was a downpour. I heard someone say the next day that it was 4 inches of rain. Luckily this did not muddy up the trail though there were some shallow wet areas early on. All this rain did cause the river to swell up into rapids the entire race. There was a constant roar with us the entire day.<br />
<br />
Since we began at Whitetop, we had a good 16 miles of slight decent all the way to Damascus, Virginia, which is approximately the halfway point of the trail. I tried to keep from running too fast, too early but I probably did anyway. Well before getting to Damascus the first time I was not feeling well. Even though the temperatures were good for running, the humidity was causing me to sweat much more than I would otherwise. I did recognize this and tried to make sure I was getting enough water. I'm not sure whether I did drink enough or came into the race slightly dehydrated, but I felt nauseous and tired way too soon. None of the food at aid stations looked good. I focused on salty foods to try to fix the hydration issue.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
Despite moving at a good pace, the negative thoughts were becoming relentless. I have been working on recognizing these thoughts and replace them as soon as I can because they will kill a race quickly. When I reached Abingdon, they had overpowered me. Less than 8 hours in, I had had enough. I wanted to quit.<br />
<br />
I sat down in Abingdon filled with self loathing and embarrassment. Wasn't I just wasting my time doing this meaningless, ridiculous thing? This is all ground I think I have covered in previous posts. The feeling of being a fraud and not belonging there overwhelmed me. I was regressing and had no answers. Frustration and disappointment continue to grow.<br />
<br />
With the little pride I had left, I got up and headed back out towards Whitetop, my head down because I couldn't look anyone in the eye knowing that I was failing yet again. Experience told me here was still some hope that things would turn around and I would feel better. So I pushed on despite having that voice screaming at me to stop.<br />
<br />
At some point between Abingdon and Damascus, Scott caught up with me and we spent the rest of our day together. When we stopped in Damascus, at the halfway point of the race, I had already decided I was done. Scott got me out of the chair and back out on the course. We slogged on as the sun set. The remaining hope was that cooler temperatures would make me feel better. Since you know the end, you know it didn't.<br />
<br />
Scott and I talked off and on, which did take my mind off some of the negativity. This did help. The trail math said we had plenty of time to get the finish but we were slowing down with each mile. We turned around again at Whitetop. From there it was only 33 miles to the finish and we had 11 hours to do it. 3 mph with 16 of those miles being downhill and the rest flat. No problem.<br />
<br />
We made it 10 more miles before Scott's feet were too blistered for him to keep a pace that would get us to the finish. It was all I needed to say I was done too. In truth I was done 44 miles earlier. We sat at the aid station, sleeping and shivering, waiting for a ride to the finish. Our day was done and I was fine with it.<br />
<br />
Since Bigfoot, my motivation has never been lower. I talked about the physical effects in that post and they lingered all the way up to Yeti and even today. I'm sure some time off and proper training can get me back to where I want to be. I need a reset.<br />
<br />
Mentally, I don't know what to do. When people ask about running ultras, I typically say that being physically fit is important but you can get through nearly anything by being mentally strong. It's 90% mental. Right now I am far from mentally strong which is something that, and I may be wrong, is not part of the ultrarunning ethos.<br />
<br />
I feel that in admitting this I will heap scorn upon myself from certain other runners. Often in our community you hear a phrase like "Death before DNF". If you're not giving 110% every minute, every day then you are a mediocre loser. Well, that's me then. I'm proud of what I have accomplished and I shouldn't worry about what others may think but I do. Could I have done more and had better results. Yes and that is what still drives me. But is pushing against a wall while destroying myself mentally helping? Not right now. Sure, I could make myself run 20 miles a day, as fast as I can, but is that going to make me any better?<br />
<br />
Since my massive failure in the Grand Slam last year I have been frustrated, easily annoyed by trivial things, and emotionally fragile. Depressed. That does not work well at mile 40 of a 100 mile race when you know you need to "suffer" another 12 to 20 hours. I need a reset to work on that. A step back to, hopefully, take two forward.<br />
<br />
I suppose I clung to the idea that ultrarunning would fix my problems too long. Don't get me wrong. It helps. It can build confidence, encourage healthier living and give a feeling of belonging to a community. That only goes so far, at least for me. The pressure, likely imagined, to keep up and always be the hardest, toughest, least mediocre person out there wears me down. I need to find a way to eliminate it. How I do that is still a mystery.<br />
<br />
Part of this blogging project was to be more open, both to sharing my thoughts and having new experiences. I have noticed that has allowed me to come to know and spend time with interesting people. Hopefully that continues.<br />
<br />
I have Iditarod 350 coming up in February which will require me to be fully prepared in all aspects. My focus over the coming months will have to be on that to be successful and safe. I am entered in Tuscobia 160 and Arrowhead as preparation races, which I still need to take very seriously because they are serious races. This will probably be the last post until then unless something notable comes up. Until then, I will be seeking a way out of this rut and be the best person that I can be.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-55030748873638359962018-09-04T10:29:00.000-04:002018-09-04T10:29:02.950-04:00Samsquantch or Long Dark Blues<span style="background-color: black; box-shadow: rgb(221, 221, 221) 0.01em 0px 0px, rgb(221, 221, 221) -0.01em 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 0.2em; padding-top: 0.2em; position: relative; transition: all 0.1s ease 0s, all 0.1s ease 0s;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="box-shadow: rgb(221, 221, 221) 0.01em 0px 0px, rgb(221, 221, 221) -0.01em 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 0.2em; padding-top: 0.2em; position: relative; transition: all 0.1s ease 0s, all 0.1s ease 0s;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="box-shadow: rgb(221, 221, 221) 0.01em 0px 0px, rgb(221, 221, 221) -0.01em 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 0.2em; padding-top: 0.2em; position: relative; transition: all 0.1s ease 0s, all 0.1s ease 0s;">Real truth about it is</span></i><br />
<i><span style="box-shadow: rgb(221, 221, 221) 0.01em 0px 0px, rgb(221, 221, 221) -0.01em 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 0.2em; padding-top: 0.2em; position: relative; transition: all 0.1s ease 0s, all 0.1s ease 0s;">No one gets it right.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="box-shadow: rgb(221, 221, 221) 0.01em 0px 0px, rgb(221, 221, 221) -0.01em 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 0.2em; padding-top: 0.2em; position: relative; transition: all 0.1s ease 0s, all 0.1s ease 0s;">Real truth about it is</span></i><br />
<i><span style="box-shadow: rgb(221, 221, 221) 0.01em 0px 0px, rgb(221, 221, 221) -0.01em 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 0.2em; padding-top: 0.2em; position: relative; transition: all 0.1s ease 0s, all 0.1s ease 0s;">We're all supposed to try</span></i><br />
<i><span style="box-shadow: rgb(221, 221, 221) 0.01em 0px 0px, rgb(221, 221, 221) -0.01em 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 0.2em; padding-top: 0.2em; position: relative; transition: all 0.1s ease 0s, all 0.1s ease 0s;">There ain't no end to the sands</span></i><br />
<i><span style="box-shadow: rgb(221, 221, 221) 0.01em 0px 0px, rgb(221, 221, 221) -0.01em 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 0.2em; padding-top: 0.2em; position: relative; transition: all 0.1s ease 0s, all 0.1s ease 0s;">I've been trying to cross</span></i><br />
<i><span style="box-shadow: rgb(221, 221, 221) 0.01em 0px 0px, rgb(221, 221, 221) -0.01em 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 0.2em; padding-top: 0.2em; position: relative; transition: all 0.1s ease 0s, all 0.1s ease 0s;">The real truth about it is</span></i><br />
<i><span style="box-shadow: rgb(221, 221, 221) 0.01em 0px 0px, rgb(221, 221, 221) -0.01em 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 0.2em; padding-top: 0.2em; position: relative; transition: all 0.1s ease 0s, all 0.1s ease 0s;">my kind of life's no better off</span></i><br />
<i><span style="box-shadow: rgb(221, 221, 221) 0.01em 0px 0px, rgb(221, 221, 221) -0.01em 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 0.2em; padding-top: 0.2em; position: relative; transition: all 0.1s ease 0s, all 0.1s ease 0s;">If I got the map or if I'm lost.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-style: initial; box-shadow: rgb(221, 221, 221) 0.01em 0px 0px, rgb(221, 221, 221) -0.01em 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 0.2em; padding-top: 0.2em; position: relative; transition: background-color 0.1s ease 0s, box-shadow 0.1s ease 0s; word-break: break-word;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-style: initial; box-shadow: rgb(221, 221, 221) 0.01em 0px 0px, rgb(221, 221, 221) -0.01em 0px 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.7em; padding-bottom: 0.2em; padding-top: 0.2em; position: relative; transition: background-color 0.1s ease 0s, box-shadow 0.1s ease 0s; word-break: break-word;">-Songs:Ohia, "Farewell Transmission" (aka "Long Dark Blues")</span></i></div>
</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhArJrY5WK9vQbvwO9mpAh2IVcbUuqFTUVl2F4ZAj1lOEq2PfflPjOjPv9utHApybJvOZnWRQRAXE2CGc-KoGpl4_L-wC4YHvSNm1FGLeTRPaTfVWqgWbFO23hft3WNXYDfRTSqbbAfVLF2/s1600/FB_IMG_1533901847276.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhArJrY5WK9vQbvwO9mpAh2IVcbUuqFTUVl2F4ZAj1lOEq2PfflPjOjPv9utHApybJvOZnWRQRAXE2CGc-KoGpl4_L-wC4YHvSNm1FGLeTRPaTfVWqgWbFO23hft3WNXYDfRTSqbbAfVLF2/s320/FB_IMG_1533901847276.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 0<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Photo credit: Scott Rokis</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
18 months ago I did something I thought was impossible when I finished Arrowhead the first time. It was not too long before that when I began hearing about 200 mile races. A couple popped up and then a couple more. I figured I would try one eventually when the time was right. Then running friends started doing them. The consensus seemed to be that the Bigfoot 200 in Washington state was the most beautiful and difficult. After some disappointment last year I thought I would reduce the schedule and the extra time would allow me to finally fit in a big race like this one.<br />
<br />
A 200 mile race?<br />
<br />
They sounded tough but not a race that couldn't be completed. The time limits seemed generous. I could run a 100 so a 200 would just mean slowing down even more and getting a nap or two in. Simple.<br />
<br />
The Bigfoot 200 begins at the southern foot of Mount St. Helens. The course runs around the mountain, across the 1980 eruption blast zone and then meanders north towards the tiny town of Randle. 205 miles of mountain trails with over 42k feet of climbing and nearly 44k feet of descending. This was not going to be easy.<br />
<br />
The doubt begins when I actually see the mountains in the distance. This doubt ramps up exponentially as I get nearer and look up to only see trees and trail ahead of me. As I drove to race HQ I tried to get a sense of what I would be facing. Some day I will learn this never works.<br />
<br />
This is the portion where I run through the highlights of the race. I have a problem though. The race took place over parts of 5 days and 4 nights. It is impossible, no matter how I try, to recall notable events and when they happened. It all really does run together.<br />
<br />
The night before the race I was calmer than prior to most races. That didn't mean I was relaxed or feeling ready to go. I finally got around to sorting out my drop bags and gear. Lately, this is a task I just put off even though it takes relatively little time. I suppose procrastinating on this makes the race seem further away when I 'm not ready. It did feel good to have it done, though I constantly worry that I am forgetting some critical item.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdKXv9dqz_ccp-DpwW9FJj82RwEPIWrGELVOZKtAVkZQ0g5cjUVlicff5xEV5WHWyNi_xbhwIiiEUTXGPIkcq19Xqtihu0rZ1Zj80uttYcTRvnm9QMBW5oIuLIBotLOzlddJoiKcIdeLe/s1600/20180809_095953.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdKXv9dqz_ccp-DpwW9FJj82RwEPIWrGELVOZKtAVkZQ0g5cjUVlicff5xEV5WHWyNi_xbhwIiiEUTXGPIkcq19Xqtihu0rZ1Zj80uttYcTRvnm9QMBW5oIuLIBotLOzlddJoiKcIdeLe/s320/20180809_095953.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-race organizing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We met the bus to the start at 5:30 AM on Friday. A two and half hour school bus ride is rather uncomfortable just prior to starting an ultra but part of the deal. We arrived at the start about 45 minutes before the start so I had plenty of time to let the nerves settle in. I was not feeling my best. I awoke with a slightly upset stomach but was able to get a banana, muffin and some coffee down.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-RXwQYJMEl4fZQ8RxHR15EBViDpRq9yh6ZUMG-_-Y0l0b-bJiU0b92HRNGmMttPNW4TVD6wmL5AvyDBnmWRcecav5R54ou3GPmxO64suomxkF8SLakQfBMXo-AmCddr4cFb-Wb10ox9EB/s1600/received_269478296981013.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-RXwQYJMEl4fZQ8RxHR15EBViDpRq9yh6ZUMG-_-Y0l0b-bJiU0b92HRNGmMttPNW4TVD6wmL5AvyDBnmWRcecav5R54ou3GPmxO64suomxkF8SLakQfBMXo-AmCddr4cFb-Wb10ox9EB/s320/received_269478296981013.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1enC6Q5Qy9UMDHZKzW1eRNNkSX3mPWjSG6GiiBoUpgTGsaUik_uxjGLIC5MK90aTC1K-MEluWM8vJ5ffSutexq_EK1RNgQJwl2zU8uQKn9AAUoLI2uXsgOifnfTqZqs80Mk9z9R_ms4nF/s1600/received_2052924844726730.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1enC6Q5Qy9UMDHZKzW1eRNNkSX3mPWjSG6GiiBoUpgTGsaUik_uxjGLIC5MK90aTC1K-MEluWM8vJ5ffSutexq_EK1RNgQJwl2zU8uQKn9AAUoLI2uXsgOifnfTqZqs80Mk9z9R_ms4nF/s320/received_2052924844726730.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're off!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We left Marble Mountain Sno-Park and immediately started climbing the volcano. This was a long slow climb of over 3000 feet in the first 6 or 7 miles. At this point, we entered a boulder field which was a mile or 2 of scrambling over large stones. This all forced a slower pace which was good because this whole section was exposed and the day was getting warm. It was still the morning of the first day and I was sweating at an alarming rate.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidnfdA2LjlvTFrviGavFZLUUKt4i97geONcPr05HRd8N9u21JwVEHFKqDNrYB7dByEneDT02IoyPNERCdpQDzTXiTn-SFzelyPBAs55Cr7qk6l7wuJP_QPb0SqQjiZ4JtYKFEjL0e0zhNK/s1600/FILE0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidnfdA2LjlvTFrviGavFZLUUKt4i97geONcPr05HRd8N9u21JwVEHFKqDNrYB7dByEneDT02IoyPNERCdpQDzTXiTn-SFzelyPBAs55Cr7qk6l7wuJP_QPb0SqQjiZ4JtYKFEjL0e0zhNK/s640/FILE0009.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The person on the far right gives some perspective of the boulder field. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
By the time I reached the first station, around 12 miles, I had just finished the 2+ liters of water I was carrying. Already at this first stop, nothing at the food table looked good but I got a few things down, grabbed a couple gels and moved on. I also emptied the volcanic sand from my shoes for probably the 20th time. I now understood why they were selling gaiters at the pre-race meeting.<br />
<br />
The next section ran up the west side of the mountain and then across the 1980 blast zone on the north side. The afternoon was here and there was no protection from the sun since the trees have not returned to this area yet. While there was a good amount of elevation change, it was spread out. The footing was great as at times there was no real trail to follow.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-3LI_EgYngFiENh67YnectAVdG9AdllNqfZVnHT4Vsw0F3C6o1TGNZXK59rYoGjc5HuACOn3XIvLQwLGIJIdukV75qhQ02ymfW093HkF-DFpqd27x2lUS7iH3kHvcHI6PooSZqfdyT5Gx/s1600/HamesEllerbe_BF200_IMG_2636-%2528ZF-1856-35794-1-004%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="1280" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-3LI_EgYngFiENh67YnectAVdG9AdllNqfZVnHT4Vsw0F3C6o1TGNZXK59rYoGjc5HuACOn3XIvLQwLGIJIdukV75qhQ02ymfW093HkF-DFpqd27x2lUS7iH3kHvcHI6PooSZqfdyT5Gx/s320/HamesEllerbe_BF200_IMG_2636-%2528ZF-1856-35794-1-004%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Navigating around a volcano<br />
photo credit: Hames Ellerbe</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The going was slow but consistent until 10 or so miles in when my water was nearly empty. I tried rationing it, hoping to find a stream to refill. The landscape was stark and dry with no sign of water. My stomach began to turn as my need for calories increased. I tried getting an energy bar down but had to chew endlessly to work up enough saliva to swallow it. I was beginning to feel awful and not even to the first sundown. After what felt very long, we came across a tiny stream of water running down the mountain. The problem was that the water was milky gray from the volcanic ash. Luckily, I read the runner manual that recommended a water filter. I took a few good gulps of filtered water and moved on. This held me over until reaching what the race director called an "oasis" about a mile further down the trail. A ribbon of green brush wound down the mountain, indicating a stream of clean snow runoff. I refilled my water bottles, relieved I could try to recover from several hours of poor hydration.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyBK9twmgzeubv-jGvrk-SeCJNtNOMtFsxuQ0eoRfFlXe3xZ7oMvB-issd7NtDwQs58Yy7tks46trIwSouOIs5qeb7Z-VtsHUx_mQRiugc0TBLBDHYGHylYHefXTUbpK5RwRt-VVImocVH/s1600/HStern_BF-02533-%2528ZF-1856-35794-1-003%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="1280" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyBK9twmgzeubv-jGvrk-SeCJNtNOMtFsxuQ0eoRfFlXe3xZ7oMvB-issd7NtDwQs58Yy7tks46trIwSouOIs5qeb7Z-VtsHUx_mQRiugc0TBLBDHYGHylYHefXTUbpK5RwRt-VVImocVH/s640/HStern_BF-02533-%2528ZF-1856-35794-1-003%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo credit: Howie Stern</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
It was shortly before the sun set that I finally reached the second aid station. I was as relieved as reaching this station as I have been finishing some races. I was hot, thirsty, hungry and getting tired. This was mile 28 and I already felt spent. How could I possibly get through multiple nights and another 170 something miles? I sat dejected and frustrated in the chair trying to find some food I could get down. Looking around, the other runners seemed to be feeling the same way I did.<br />
<br />
Thankfully the next section was only around 9 miles and not too much climbing. Basically, we were headed back across the blast zone but on a more northern route. I got myself up and set off, hoping to cover as much ground as possible before losing the sunlight. The temperatures began to drop as soon as the sun moved behind the mountains. I stopped several times to just look back at Mount St. Helens in the waning light and enjoy the moment.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR5HR4_6nRHs9sXzZl-fiK6Wlr4JmcrqUW08dlV5KERGt7RBITvHusJaqV6cyN2WXT3cKyxgTlkoKuSuk8f6tVfUzenOGFlu_IG_6aWOe9jnIvmlmvKNsEmJUQS0LwM6vbKujK87QP9F_S/s1600/FILE0026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR5HR4_6nRHs9sXzZl-fiK6Wlr4JmcrqUW08dlV5KERGt7RBITvHusJaqV6cyN2WXT3cKyxgTlkoKuSuk8f6tVfUzenOGFlu_IG_6aWOe9jnIvmlmvKNsEmJUQS0LwM6vbKujK87QP9F_S/s400/FILE0026.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
Coldwater Lake was up next and the first stop that was designated a sleep station. My plan was stopping to get a quick nap either here or the next station. The next was 19 miles away so the choice was almost made for me. The last two sections were relatively easy but I was still struggling with getting food and water in. I was offered a cheeseburger, got that down and headed to a sleep tent.<br />
<br />
The volunteers tracked who was sleeping where and when they wanted to be up. It turned out to be a very good system. I told them to wake me in 45 minutes. The sleep stations were just large tents with sleeping pads on the ground and a mess of blankets. Lying down I didn't feel like I would sleep but next thing I knew I was getting tapped on the shoulder and asked if I wanted to get up. "No but I will". I picked myself up, wrapped a blanket around myself, and sat to get a few more calories in.<br />
<br />
Leaving this station I had no idea what I was in for. It was a long, hard stretch of 18 miles with over 5k feet of climbing and another 4k feet descending. I left Coldwater around 4:30 AM, rolling along easily along the northern edge of the lake before meandering up and through the mountains, reaching the high point of the race a Mount Margaret near 6k feet. Never mind that it took me 6 hours to get to that point from Coldwater. That time was filled with doubt and disbelief. After having made it through the heat and dehydration of the day before and going through most of the night, I felt there was no way I could make it through another night let alone 3 more based on my pace.<br />
<br />
After returning from the short out and back to climb Mt. Margaret I met a lady with a heavily taped knee limping along. I told her the out and back was not as far as it looked, to which she responded that her knee was very painful on descents and she was dropping at the next aid so she would skip that section. I said she should just do it, get to the aid and, since there was plenty of time, wait and see if things got better. She turned around and made the climb.<br />
<br />
From here to the final day is all very hazy in my mind and jumbles together. This stretch was long and difficult. I began trying to slow down even more on climbs to keep my heart rate from spiking and then sweating too much. The pace felt so unbelievably slow. Looking to find the top of a climb I would become discouraged. So I put my head down and just kept moving and the top would eventually come. In between these mental climbing struggles, I was contemplating just straight up retiring from ultrarunning. The repeated refrain of "you're not even good at this, you not having fun and you're not fooling anyone" just repeated over and over. "Just stop. You can't possibly go another 75 hours. This is stupid."<br />
<br />
Relying on my previous race experience helped me through this section. Shifting my focus to my breath during a climb or just when my thoughts were becoming too negative, which was very often at this point. Thinking about the full distance was overwhelming so I tried just concentrating on getting to the next station. Despite all these methods that had worked many times before, I was convinced that there was no possibility of finishing. All the reasons for quitting just kept getting longer as I tried to find the one I could give later that would be accepted by my fellow runners.<br />
<br />
I've known my friend Chris for something around 35 years. A cool part of doing this race was a chance to visit with him. He seemed to think this whole thing was interesting and decided to be at the start and visit any aid stations he could. The upcoming Norway Pass was the first chance he would have since the start. He's always been a person I've admired and the thought of quitting while he was here supporting me was unpalatable.<br />
<br />
Finally arriving at Norway Pass aid, I saw the familiar face like I'd hoped. Sitting down, I began relating what had gone on since I had seen him at the start, probably ranting like a crazy person. I relaxed and opened one of the beers I had stashed in my drop bag. Burger, beer, new socks, and replacement shoes for the second pair in two races that blew out. Half an hour or so of collecting myself and I felt back to normal again. I left feeling good for the first time in the race.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="889" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruo4S-RQEnn4ROvO5GKuHnwzksRMTVI0UBGIwPeEFhANosQ6iMeRzXDWLE1HhVbcjcihpxKZ7I6CMiTFl46vL24Hkuybday13nJV93Gx9leSO8Jpfy44Tvet_MGuCzHtMSPFrYfQ8TlKF/s400/received_500422033735658.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="221" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking care of those feet</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5lRqp9CD73s5x08shg_wDx0zu0GRmH62LRnPInLZ2GeceuPbBVNpgScnxaPpgtF0XHxu_6pDg30JdNwltqqMQQMgpRDxkWJGwqwk_ULU3zTYqGJRh4wrBPnnJvCriryEj49fmSrI9yuva/s1600/received_309467546493276.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="889" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5lRqp9CD73s5x08shg_wDx0zu0GRmH62LRnPInLZ2GeceuPbBVNpgScnxaPpgtF0XHxu_6pDg30JdNwltqqMQQMgpRDxkWJGwqwk_ULU3zTYqGJRh4wrBPnnJvCriryEj49fmSrI9yuva/s400/received_309467546493276.jpeg" width="221" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hardest part: Leaving an aid station</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruo4S-RQEnn4ROvO5GKuHnwzksRMTVI0UBGIwPeEFhANosQ6iMeRzXDWLE1HhVbcjcihpxKZ7I6CMiTFl46vL24Hkuybday13nJV93Gx9leSO8Jpfy44Tvet_MGuCzHtMSPFrYfQ8TlKF/s1600/received_500422033735658.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The next section were fairly uneventful. We started moving into more wooded areas which protected from the sun for the most part. I tried sleeping at the next station as I was so sleepy when I rolled in, however, I was lying on a cot outside and every time the wind picked up, it would blow under the cot making too cold to sleep, yet I didn't want to get up. After 45 minutes or so, I got up in frustration and left to face the night with not enough sleep.<br />
<br />
I struggled with some sleepiness going into that second night. This section was fairly hard from my unreliable recollection. 14 miles and what seemed like one climb after another. Some hallucinations were beginning and I was occasionally looking around me looking for mountain lions or bears. Moving slowly and consistently I worked to just reach the next station where I could sleep. When I reached it, I followed the now established pattern: burger, sleep, breakfast burrito, refill food and water, off again.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhptKCQqz2AjkWb29RUu1Rsk1ZaKwJ41KHYe_Eb2TpTHVnEJcbNAVoRf2Eu5-2T-T2OIbE74JZ0nPgrBQoYx6RxLTJMmprLfG5JCfVZRQRNF7g_s96UIP2rU6pTl0wJ6UFaRMX87BmUhwfs/s1600/FILE0038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhptKCQqz2AjkWb29RUu1Rsk1ZaKwJ41KHYe_Eb2TpTHVnEJcbNAVoRf2Eu5-2T-T2OIbE74JZ0nPgrBQoYx6RxLTJMmprLfG5JCfVZRQRNF7g_s96UIP2rU6pTl0wJ6UFaRMX87BmUhwfs/s400/FILE0038.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
As the sun rose again, the course descended to the Lewis River which we followed for several miles. This are was flat and populated with campgrounds and tourists viewing waterfalls or walking their dogs, giving us strange looks. This was a welcome relief from all the hills of the previous 2 days. Also, this section was significant since it bracketed the half way mark of the race. My mind could still not comprehend how it would be possible to go another 100 miles but, again, I would breathe and focus on the getting to the next aid station.<br />
<br />
I have little recollection of the Lewis River aid station and I believe I only stayed long enough to eat, again wanting to cover as much of the next section in the daylight as I could. I was beginning to feel awful again. My stomach had recovered and was now demanding all those calories I had missed earlier in the race but I had to cover 19 miles and climb well over 5k feet to get to that food.<br />
<br />
When I arrived at the Council Bluff station, I was hungry, tired and growing irritable. It had been around 9 hours since the last stop. I sat down and immediately one of the volunteers was saying there was no sleeping here and we needed to move on. Someone brought me a bowl of chili, which I began to eat and realized it was vegetarian chili. There were not many other options that looked any good to me. It was tasty but not what I wanted. I became more irritable. Noticing this I decided I needed to move on. The station was one of the more remote so they were limited on supplies that could be brought in, hence the lack of sleep tents and plentiful food options. It was the middle of the night, I wanted to sleep but I needed to cover 9 miles to get to the next sleep tents.<br />
<br />
I left a bit disgruntled but settled right back into being miserable on the trail, slowly moving forward and checking off those aid stations. The is stretch to Chain of Lakes aid was only 9 miles and a couple thousand feet of climbing and descending. I was fighting sleep desperately the entire way. I did arrive into the station in just over 3 hours which meant I was moving fairly well. Rolling in I grabbed another burger and then headed to the sleep tent. This tent was deluxe compared to the others. It had cots and was heated. Pure luxury. My plan now was to get a good 2 hours of sleep and hope that could carry me most of the way to the finish.<br />
<br />
This time for some reason I decided to just set an alarm on my phone instead of getting a volunteer to wake me. I slept a little fitfully but when indications of sunlight started to hit my eyes, I picked up my phone to check how much longer I had to sleep. I had zero time. It was 6:45 and I had set my alarm for 5:45. So naturally I went into full on panic mode. I had overslept and possibly ruined my whole race.<br />
<br />
Grabbing some quick food, I bolted out of there a complete emotional mess. How could I be so stupid? Had I gone through all of this so far just to oversleep and not fail? It took a couple miles before I calmed down and realized I only left slightly over half an hour later than I planned, I couldn't make it all up by pushing to hard, and I actually still had more than enough time. I still had the longest and, reportedly, the toughest section coming up so I was concerned with getting through that. I relaxed and settled back into the routine. Step, step, breathe, breathe.<br />
<br />
<br />
The next 18 miles followed along the top of ridge most of the way. The sun rose and the day became warm. For the first time in the race, I started to be bothered by insects any time I stopped. I felt better from the extra sleep but the heat was beginning to wear me down again. Fantasies of finding the perfect pine tree to lay under in the cool shade swirled around in my head. I tried a couple times to lie down and get just a few minutes of sleep, but within seconds the flies would land on me, not allowing any peace, so I would reluctantly move on. Just prior to the aid station was a required out and back to the top of Elk Peak. The climb up it was very intimidating at first but I was so focused on getting to the station I didn't hesitate going up. The round trip turned out to not be as bad as I thought and I rolled into Klickitat nearly 2 hours sooner than I expected.<br />
<br />
I don't recall at what point I began thinking about grilled cheese but it was at least 2 or 3 hours. I was so happy to reach Klickitat. For some reason, I had in my mind from the beginning that if I made it to this point, there would be no doubt of a finish. So jogging in I felt some relief from the panic earlier in the day. I sat down and when the friendly volunteer asked what I wanted, I told her exactly what I had been turning over in my head for so many miles. I wanted 2 grilled cheese and some mayo to dip it in. Horrific I know but those two grilled cheese sandwiches may have been the best of my life. I followed this with a couple breakfast burritos. Needless to say, when I left, my stomach was overly full and it took a solid half an hour before began to feel normal again.<br />
<br />
My feet until this point had been in decent shape, which was remarkable considering the mileage and terrain, but things were falling apart. The balls of my feet were beginning to get that familiar sting of blisters forming. I knew that at this point in the race I would be fine with however bad they got I wasn't stopping for a stupid blister. It hurts for a little bit then just blends in with everything else.<br />
<br />
I had heard from several other runners that this next stretch was one of the hardest of the race. It turned out to not be too bad. It was around 17 miles and 5k of climbing. The climbs were spread out and by this point int he race I was just putting my head down and grinding forward without even thinking about the discomfort. It was a very long stretch, however, to get through mentally. It was overgrown by cover that made it difficult to see what you were stepping on or over. There were dozens of downed trees to climb over and around. It just seemed to go on forever.<br />
<br />
This was the last night to get through. I never reached a winter ultra level of hallucinations, probably due to the minimal sleep I was able to get. I did have the best ones on this section. The super tall fir trees began to look like ancient Greek gods. A little more than an hour from aid station I saw what thought was a giant Zeus, 100 feet up in a tree, opening his mouth to reveal Athena. I chuckled and kept hiking forward.<br />
<br />
I made it into the Twin Sisters, the penultimate station around 1 AM. I ate, took a 45 minute or so nap, and had the balls of my feet taped, in an effort to keep the blisters from getting worse. Overall, I took close to two hours here. My finishing time didn't matter. I had plenty of time to make the cutoff. All I had to do now was keep moving, clicking off a mile here and a mile there.<br />
<br />
From Twin Sisters to Owens Creek was a combination of heaven and hell. Many more downed trees and the overgrowth was still bad for several miles. There was a short out and back to climb Pompey Peak. This was a tough little climb but I knew it was the last one of the race. The trail after this widened and gently sloped downward. Another runner passed me while running and I decided to try it out and realized that it felt amazing to actually run, instead of "power hiking".<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw-b14gvph9u0iGOEnfaaJ_sinHWB2nhpuCN6uoFP27hfgyApLwzxaWP7p9v-XdYArRYJFtSXrxtig0aJEM' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
The final aid station of an ultra is always upbeat and fun. Everyone at this point knows the finish is just a formality. This one felt like a party. After the tequila shot a quarter mile before, I was feeling nothing but joy. I ate an insanely delicious plate of eggs, bacon, potatoes, avocado and cheese. I washed it done with another Rainer beer. Out I went, next stop, a 200 mile finish.<br />
<br />
I strolled out onto a beautiful wooded forest road for several miles, thinking the entire time that I could not believe I was really going to do this. The forest road turned onto the paved road that would lead into the finish. I continued to alternate between walking and running. The day was growing warmer but not as bad as previous days. I moved along, trying to understand what all this meant to me.<br />
<br />
I passed through Randle quickly and turned toward the high school where I would finish on the track around the football field. That final road seemed much longer than it should of been, allowing the emotions to rise up to the surface.<br />
<br />
I stepped onto the track. Making the circuit around it, I thought of how I had failed so miserably to have a similar at Western States last year. I thought about DNFs at Leadville and Wasatch. My failure to get a Boston qualifying time back in April. My terrible showing at Ronda del Cims that made me doubt I should even try to do these things any more. This made up for all of it. I needed this finish. I needed to prove to myself that I could still do this. Often, failing makes the success that much more satisfying.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRVI_CJejwAh6sw5HYSEMGQ1A9z7Yggt1X_uyfz66N4UNW0llSxX_crqb0TQtZ5F8-6PQ7ioKSxtW18v-cfs7YbJiWx2wkBiSVoF7YSfTz_xCCNKmDx3sYaD0oB_Z-EVhNKzF-8LI9O2P6/s1600/HStern_BF-01723-%2528ZF-1856-35794-1-002%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRVI_CJejwAh6sw5HYSEMGQ1A9z7Yggt1X_uyfz66N4UNW0llSxX_crqb0TQtZ5F8-6PQ7ioKSxtW18v-cfs7YbJiWx2wkBiSVoF7YSfTz_xCCNKmDx3sYaD0oB_Z-EVhNKzF-8LI9O2P6/s320/HStern_BF-01723-%2528ZF-1856-35794-1-002%2529.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Disbelief and relief<br />
Photo Credit: Howie Stern</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUkn00hHynfe_pPXN56DDp6eROCuJDE9WXpOyJ0yvP30A2_tK11yDxaUBRh7RKyVwLamqndgNc7I7ERPvILusuHPQrKVzbSPvn_llr57AZPoFByPEQZTdc9Wjt7T9g6EoWIUt9FAfxEJT/s1600/HStern_BF-04648-%2528ZF-1856-35794-1-001%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUkn00hHynfe_pPXN56DDp6eROCuJDE9WXpOyJ0yvP30A2_tK11yDxaUBRh7RKyVwLamqndgNc7I7ERPvILusuHPQrKVzbSPvn_llr57AZPoFByPEQZTdc9Wjt7T9g6EoWIUt9FAfxEJT/s400/HStern_BF-04648-%2528ZF-1856-35794-1-001%2529.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 206<br />
Photo credit: Howie Stern</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
This was easily the most remote and isolated race I have done so far. There were none of the usual signs of humans. There were no random pieces of food wrappers or a broken piece of camping equipment. This land was free of that. It was remote, alone and so very dark at night. Many of the trails were overgrown, indicating how rarely they are used, meaning we were seeing places that few people see. These are the places and sights that draw me to do these ridiculous races. There were dozens of moments where I would stop to take in the scenery and becoming very emotional, whether it be from the raw beauty, fatigue or a combination of the two.<br />
<br />
The organization of this race was excellent. The aid stations were everything you could want. Plenty of food and attention from volunteers, many of whom, obviously, are ultrarunners and know what is needed. I never got lost so the course marking was well done as well (I could not imagine getting 206 mile course marked). I'd recommend this race to anyone looking for a beautiful challenge.<br />
<br />
I not only had the opportunity to discover and explore an amazing part of the world but I, once again, met a whole new group of fun and inspiring ultrarunners. Over the 4 days out there, I was able to come into contact with so many new faces. I was repeatedly inspired, encouraged and entertained.<br />
<br />
I want to give thanks to all those who have and continue to provide encouragement. It really does help. I would hope that I can and do give that back to everyone as well. The thought that I would be letting people down by quitting does help get through some of those difficult times. I'm forever thankful for this.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisM66r9tKljNKzH4PepojpmXEjdEBLP-zipVvYbC5kMY6wos-chZvwDb43YbEp57qGSuhpf15SHKSzKW1EmLm3SiUi91d7eylKIMfpLM7wdr-mOmMHU1VnXnCIScvDQcFp_dCzqubjOYZW/s1600/received_2125712800974181.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisM66r9tKljNKzH4PepojpmXEjdEBLP-zipVvYbC5kMY6wos-chZvwDb43YbEp57qGSuhpf15SHKSzKW1EmLm3SiUi91d7eylKIMfpLM7wdr-mOmMHU1VnXnCIScvDQcFp_dCzqubjOYZW/s320/received_2125712800974181.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8QmKAqp5W2oxV9xy-qFAaBr1s_S5HWPtJO0AXUiivcwsRLv6bqnlEbsKNqXDx3WV_azOhcIIiUVV9O2KF8RvuF5Qp7k1Xth7O5ibaOEnG1UtdKy2A8X2pIqu9DkfRr9yRHCRIUekzmWPs/s1600/received_309692869800115.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="889" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8QmKAqp5W2oxV9xy-qFAaBr1s_S5HWPtJO0AXUiivcwsRLv6bqnlEbsKNqXDx3WV_azOhcIIiUVV9O2KF8RvuF5Qp7k1Xth7O5ibaOEnG1UtdKy2A8X2pIqu9DkfRr9yRHCRIUekzmWPs/s320/received_309692869800115.jpeg" width="177" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What have I done???<br />
It's ok. I have a burger and a beer. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
It has been nearly 3 weeks since I finished and I am tired. It is a deep down tired. I have run a few times since then and a vast majority of these runs were just plain bad. Sleep has been getting better but it has taken time since my schedule was so disrupted. I wake up, not feeling sleepy, but as if any physical activity would be too much. I have taken days off. I have tried to go easy on my runs. I feel like I did last year after finishing the Hrimthurs.<br />
<br />
There is not much in the tank and it feels miserable. When I run, there is little joy in it and I just want to quit. When I don't run, I feel like I am losing fitness and wasting an opportunity to improve. Just pushing through it did not seem to work last year. I should probably just take another week off but that would drive me, and, most likely, my wife crazy. I know this will eventually pass like all things do, good or bad.<br />
<br />
Next on the schedule is the Yeti 100 with the original goal of running under 24 hours and getting a sweet buckle. However, at this point I would be happy just finishing and hanging out with some really cool and inspiring people. It's just running after all.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_FRDC0QlawkUPJE_Xu-X-32XFZurb9hz3sC66SHQImh6MiyDCjcNjza5N7b_n1nDzDivy4UumP3GdSwxt60JzTFBEVAmRPQU_q9EaW6-eI22IQFP_6w5BAo-QXR7xj_xp6HkmFhPtt-aU/s1600/IMG_20180816_081917_134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1134" data-original-width="1134" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_FRDC0QlawkUPJE_Xu-X-32XFZurb9hz3sC66SHQImh6MiyDCjcNjza5N7b_n1nDzDivy4UumP3GdSwxt60JzTFBEVAmRPQU_q9EaW6-eI22IQFP_6w5BAo-QXR7xj_xp6HkmFhPtt-aU/s640/IMG_20180816_081917_134.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-47982989089534277642018-08-06T09:49:00.001-04:002018-08-06T09:49:57.728-04:00Not A Mountain Runner<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwvss8ODOsYQSyJPYe57_4TdDexiBJxcyBO4rDvD2S8E08pjTvRxRFR28i6CJsvLSnwSvgbDkYKNB6B5XJHoU82jNRChJ0LD7y5_Wp3jbf9Wj2-jEYGnTFmKkQGgJA0ZaAcFsYa-Ycasrh/s1600/20180706_210435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="229" data-original-width="1600" height="90" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwvss8ODOsYQSyJPYe57_4TdDexiBJxcyBO4rDvD2S8E08pjTvRxRFR28i6CJsvLSnwSvgbDkYKNB6B5XJHoU82jNRChJ0LD7y5_Wp3jbf9Wj2-jEYGnTFmKkQGgJA0ZaAcFsYa-Ycasrh/s640/20180706_210435.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
I never expected to fall in love but it happened nonetheless. I've mentioned in previous posts about discovering new places and things thanks to running. Andorra was a place I likely would not have visited without the prospect of running a difficult 100 miles race. The race may not have gone as expected but the overall experience has had a great impact on me.<br />
<br />
Ultrarunning teaches many lessons. This race gave me a well needed dose of humility. Since finishing the Order of Hrimthurs last year I feel like I have been coasting along and not making much progress. Training has become stale, which was a main reason I decided to run a road marathon in an effort to change things up. This helped somewhat but I did not give this race the respect it deserved. The lack of proper training was evident from the start.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17uON14NJDylRabkDnJlbFm7uNFtNKtoHHNNI8PdealLX9wFj14p1345GjCsfj-6Y2S791CBMSshDfj36jvHLpzM-i-6_WF-n1H_Iegqw4CxDm3w8jltePRzDTkJsUrVDFTAiHM2DbggB/s1600/20180702_134943.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17uON14NJDylRabkDnJlbFm7uNFtNKtoHHNNI8PdealLX9wFj14p1345GjCsfj-6Y2S791CBMSshDfj36jvHLpzM-i-6_WF-n1H_Iegqw4CxDm3w8jltePRzDTkJsUrVDFTAiHM2DbggB/s200/20180702_134943.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFgv5ICYpLLR-NRpp38vGhs5o19Cdk6hQx6foOVY07vzvSTN6TZXM-9-EzKjaVxHwfzxWeRk04cDRN9ClDlJrIk7qFPE2NPSTEeGOb3uE11w9ndAMl-eLgqTkMecRMvJlZ7LSBidcqgPBM/s1600/20180702_141602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFgv5ICYpLLR-NRpp38vGhs5o19Cdk6hQx6foOVY07vzvSTN6TZXM-9-EzKjaVxHwfzxWeRk04cDRN9ClDlJrIk7qFPE2NPSTEeGOb3uE11w9ndAMl-eLgqTkMecRMvJlZ7LSBidcqgPBM/s320/20180702_141602.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1VP9R-RPKKffYB8DtA05dZgI1NQo4gLwy9XniJoY2Pitcp9GTd82kpq-J07lyVpMFw1AYX9CT0rOn5F8QKdJL_d0iwXWegXC_mjdyaG4dTegIHqDSaaip1GRALburow8Bs5K8MJHl22bu/s1600/20180702_140922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1VP9R-RPKKffYB8DtA05dZgI1NQo4gLwy9XniJoY2Pitcp9GTd82kpq-J07lyVpMFw1AYX9CT0rOn5F8QKdJL_d0iwXWegXC_mjdyaG4dTegIHqDSaaip1GRALburow8Bs5K8MJHl22bu/s320/20180702_140922.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUdae6TSTZ8eeDmC19GqxTBsRm3pzhsagdbQ7MdViud_f9A-ZYGfkRjBKVPVhUlwedOsmW4F3fN3DE_GE_fi1HLsMN3fe30p_vkQkrf70gw9yQSJXAz7FdyTvrNQ4CPC9d1SgRhfGf8Cco/s1600/20180702_132339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUdae6TSTZ8eeDmC19GqxTBsRm3pzhsagdbQ7MdViud_f9A-ZYGfkRjBKVPVhUlwedOsmW4F3fN3DE_GE_fi1HLsMN3fe30p_vkQkrf70gw9yQSJXAz7FdyTvrNQ4CPC9d1SgRhfGf8Cco/s320/20180702_132339.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVG6hPfRviVx4yUPF1RNgm9RKWGUDcbAojSTGMW6t7lFkwpBknbZjDTCLItGePgm7sq970vAPpDZeFt5WaJE6jEM3OLlTl1UPVbqHU5zLhURV5Xbld5K4zwhhg4q6Lfkhvon2REo856d5/s1600/20180702_120942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVG6hPfRviVx4yUPF1RNgm9RKWGUDcbAojSTGMW6t7lFkwpBknbZjDTCLItGePgm7sq970vAPpDZeFt5WaJE6jEM3OLlTl1UPVbqHU5zLhURV5Xbld5K4zwhhg4q6Lfkhvon2REo856d5/s320/20180702_120942.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL0NbQtri4BsIfowk-4lAl5jdeaz3mgeEUMw_EwD5HM8kD23hEDDZsCMkcC1XFoRZRLketgZG26fTqysmreeq2bg8Rk_SiQgYPHgkL_EM_BC6zfTmjbMsN-DCAVCq3BPIw-BzamG9UqbHP/s1600/20180701_195027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL0NbQtri4BsIfowk-4lAl5jdeaz3mgeEUMw_EwD5HM8kD23hEDDZsCMkcC1XFoRZRLketgZG26fTqysmreeq2bg8Rk_SiQgYPHgkL_EM_BC6zfTmjbMsN-DCAVCq3BPIw-BzamG9UqbHP/s320/20180701_195027.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
I arrived in Barcelona a couple days early, which gave me a chance to do some sightseeing. It had been 20 years since I had been in Europe. I still had the same feeling getting off the plane. The weather was hot and sunny. I wandered around the city looking for museums and historical churches.<br />
<br />
The main attraction was the Sagrada Familia, which is the still unfinished basilica designed by Antoni Gaudi. The exterior was chaotic and rough looking but the sculptures were very interesting. Stepping inside the design flipped to be very smooth and sleek. The stained glass windows were stunning, red dominated on one side and transitioning to softer blue tones on the opposite.<br />
<br />
The next day was spent wandering the Gothic quarter and going through a Picasso and then a Joan Miro gallery museum. Barcelona gave the impression of being an art and culture oriented city and taking pride in that. Both museums very interesting. I was particularly fascinated by some of Picasso's work from when he was still a teenager, which you would think was the work of a much older, conventional professional artist.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_2Ag7TsK1360Fhci9PxTyYag63AoUEeGkuOZwgTAyoQyYwXzsG7FmlaMIGHbRQezYw0BBTUYdOg48hkl4YImJC9uAX1BH300OkAY47Qz3hm6CqWKhYzIPHK-Pcu5eRwwtMRBLK_6oqva7/s1600/20180709_113736.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_2Ag7TsK1360Fhci9PxTyYag63AoUEeGkuOZwgTAyoQyYwXzsG7FmlaMIGHbRQezYw0BBTUYdOg48hkl4YImJC9uAX1BH300OkAY47Qz3hm6CqWKhYzIPHK-Pcu5eRwwtMRBLK_6oqva7/s320/20180709_113736.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medieval alleys</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jzMSTKeQP-lTDrM6xlfxC0JSSoD2atj7pyqyBRq6gHSUQQs6KAxrzkdxcMC6wGYX85hdoo9YfKq9hsGdDAjzh6OdsPTQsyufm1gmAQOJb61sE7CAk51b0_MYHVziFT-EZKykjGhx3kr5/s1600/20180705_111117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jzMSTKeQP-lTDrM6xlfxC0JSSoD2atj7pyqyBRq6gHSUQQs6KAxrzkdxcMC6wGYX85hdoo9YfKq9hsGdDAjzh6OdsPTQsyufm1gmAQOJb61sE7CAk51b0_MYHVziFT-EZKykjGhx3kr5/s320/20180705_111117.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Race HQ in Ordino, Andorra</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The drive to Andorra was only 3 hours and not much over 100 miles away. It was my first time driving a manual in quite a while but it felt good, like I was driving for real again. Arriving in Andorra, the mountain roads and roundabouts made it interesting and slow going but the scenery was becoming more and more beautiful. The roads wound through the mountains, coming to village after village tucked into each valley. It was all like a setting from fairy tales. The buildings were all made from local mountain stones. Narrow alleys wound behind the buildings, hiding little creeks and small green spaces. Very idyllic. Small fields of grapes or vegetables were made wherever there was available space between buildings. Remove the automobiles and you'd swear it was a medieval town.<br />
<br />
While stepping out of my hotel to check in and pick up my bib, I met two runners from China and gave them a ride into town. We talked about the race and how difficult it would be. I offered them a ride to the start line the next morning, which thrilled them since they could avoid the mile plus walk into town before the race. Once again, through running I have the opportunity to meet people from all over the world and share in great experiences.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxddvV8JJWG7Sd2RG_pdHFVFxSCNPz4uBXPYV6AOyuR5o82JzsG95_hytVdG1Bdv_3KOsWc8QFQzakbDgXQmcmlBJyYNR408Cz0qmcFidWiWst09QPHDePaJjFZx8ouSrAwdObE_frq6E/s1600/mmexport1531111866627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxddvV8JJWG7Sd2RG_pdHFVFxSCNPz4uBXPYV6AOyuR5o82JzsG95_hytVdG1Bdv_3KOsWc8QFQzakbDgXQmcmlBJyYNR408Cz0qmcFidWiWst09QPHDePaJjFZx8ouSrAwdObE_frq6E/s320/mmexport1531111866627.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">International relations are easy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
After seeing the landscape surrounding the town, I was getting more and more nervous about the race. 105 miles with over 40k feet of climbing and another 40k descending. If those numbers mean nothing to you then I will tell you that a profile like this is very, very difficult. That is close to an Everest and a half from sea level and then right back down again. I still couldn't get my head around it as I laid down to sleep the night before the race.<br />
<br />
The nerves were biting me a bit and I had some trouble sleeping. The lady outside my window, arguing with who I assumed was a boyfriend of husband, in Catalan at 2 AM didn't help my sleep situation. I still woke up a before my alarm went off and started preparing to race.<br />
<br />
The start line for my first European race was a strange experience. On the way into the chute, volunteers were checking for a random item on our list of mandatory gear. A team of drummers was making music while effigies of some sort of royalty were carried around. Fireworks and lots of noise were too much this early in the morning. Finally all the festivities were done and the race was under way.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk4J66pR0l-qcIue-LKNpXZMIo9CsGCJ7_YK6qdtzmuZhqVBM3rAJrjJZhCk7qU46mX2-5RScnYYhtXEWdF83nL3p7mhrBIeIVNe8BYNu-6ZYk2q-9MWF9Beq6zoILqIQEly9ghK_px8Xu/s1600/20180709_093333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk4J66pR0l-qcIue-LKNpXZMIo9CsGCJ7_YK6qdtzmuZhqVBM3rAJrjJZhCk7qU46mX2-5RScnYYhtXEWdF83nL3p7mhrBIeIVNe8BYNu-6ZYk2q-9MWF9Beq6zoILqIQEly9ghK_px8Xu/s320/20180709_093333.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
We briefly ran down some pave roads circling out of town and then quickly transitioned to single track trail going up and up and up. From this point forward there was not a single flat area on which to run. The climb never seemed to end. We would climb and turn into another climb. There may be a brief descent but that would not last. Occasionally the trees would clear and I could look down on the town where we started. We climbed steadily through the woods for a couple hours before emerging to an open valley with views of mountains and ridges in front of us. More climbs to come.<br />
<br />
It was at about this point that I met a runner from Romania. He said we should team up as that would make the time go by quicker, which it certainly did. We continued to make this first big climb together, talking about our experiences. We would continue this for the rest of the day, which helped get through some difficult sections.<br />
<br />
The first climb finally ended. A couple more miles crossing the ridge and descending through a valley led to the first aid station. This was approximately the 20k mark (12 miles) and it had taken me nearly 6 hours to arrive. This pace would mathematically get me to the finish but I would never be moving like this at mile 95. I wasn't worried as I had been told by multiple people that the most difficult climbs were in the first half of the race. Still, I was already feeling much more fatigued than I knew I should be.<br />
<br />
This was also my introduction to the European ultra aid station. I was concerned about what food and drinks would be available. North American stations are full of fruit, candy and PB&J sandwiches. Coke, Gatorade, ginger ale are all standard. I looked down at this table and saw chunks of cheese and hard salami. Nuts and olives with fizzy water to drink. I tried to eat what sounded best but ended up leaving the station unsatisfied.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih_AWEUGA9xcjjtQ8bL4LLJMGYmaarZHSSkk6GWBK9FNX2rGWpzY6N_5wwk7mpwcUKtJx4z_cIWg5nnkn9LmLzxzq3vfVmISK1U2qulDojf3yzWVmmPB144S7Hx5FiiLYFjIfnq7beBr_b/s1600/20180708_104411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih_AWEUGA9xcjjtQ8bL4LLJMGYmaarZHSSkk6GWBK9FNX2rGWpzY6N_5wwk7mpwcUKtJx4z_cIWg5nnkn9LmLzxzq3vfVmISK1U2qulDojf3yzWVmmPB144S7Hx5FiiLYFjIfnq7beBr_b/s320/20180708_104411.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My shoe with only 100 miles blew out very early</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The next station was about 12 to 14 km away at a ski resort. Based on the pace so far, it would be a long haul. A long climb followed by several small descents and then more climbing. I was now fully aware that I lacked and training or natural ability to move efficiently through the mountains. By the time we reached the next station, I was resigned to the fact that I would not make the cutoffs coming later. I just couldn't move fast enough.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqJMlo-Upve5qbPxNKv0HcDi6AC3AIxQj3_aPfXIKnzFnrP5eHryDHZTKhLPoMDPt_-JOuPvH2jP7pI2rGhz-_80csCUfBRCuASZz3rDfUHK76KwzzsTB3VZesmqb_APFzRyB6O4D4g5Nb/s1600/20180706_191348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqJMlo-Upve5qbPxNKv0HcDi6AC3AIxQj3_aPfXIKnzFnrP5eHryDHZTKhLPoMDPt_-JOuPvH2jP7pI2rGhz-_80csCUfBRCuASZz3rDfUHK76KwzzsTB3VZesmqb_APFzRyB6O4D4g5Nb/s400/20180706_191348.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back down at Arcalis station with some regret</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The volunteers at the station let us know that we were now the last runners to come through as everyone behind had dropped. I laughed. Of course I was last While sitting there refueling I had been thinking about when would be the best time to pull the plug. My Romanian companion came up and asked if I was going to keep going and that he would do whatever I decided to do. I just said," Might as go to the next station" and off we went, climbing the ski slopes while wondering if I had made a good decision. Clouds were low and ominously rolling in over the peaks and obscuring the path ahead.<br />
<br />
I fought the urge to turn back only a couple hundred yards away from the station. I kept hoping my Romanian companion would say, "let's just stop here." The next section was reportedly 10 km yet took us 5 hours. There were two peaks to climb and a long steep descent into the station. This was the most scenic section I had seen so far but also the most technical. We wound over passes and around mountains and lakes. There was a narrow rocky descent followed by a slide down a small snow field.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8QlgCVQowjCegdpgVcPlXwZzyJ1MJUEhUShe2aEFJRSEfrzfUBDWtrr91cj7zy0xku-xUuzoEABG6m8HLd2cizQoeXdHKk_zKh5ybOry-0SVjEJylfwjuhkEGSUpgd3xkfOvxw4Ov9Td5/s1600/20180706_210348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8QlgCVQowjCegdpgVcPlXwZzyJ1MJUEhUShe2aEFJRSEfrzfUBDWtrr91cj7zy0xku-xUuzoEABG6m8HLd2cizQoeXdHKk_zKh5ybOry-0SVjEJylfwjuhkEGSUpgd3xkfOvxw4Ov9Td5/s320/20180706_210348.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evening in the Pyrenees</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The sun hung on the edge of setting for what felt like hours. I only had to use my headlamp for the last hour or so of the trek. The sounds of the cowbells echoed between the mountains. We descended a long final valley before approaching the foot of the highest peak in Andorra. This would be the end of my attempt.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
After some confused cross language conversation I was sent on what must have been a 2 mile walk, down into the nearest little town to meet the van and ride back. This was the first time I really felt negative all day. That may sound strange since I had failed so miserably, I mean, I only made a quarter of the distance, barely. All day I had enjoyed the scenery and experience so much, I didn't care about the time or not being able to finish. The race was secondary, only an excuse to be here and take all this in.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho6YrfvX8_CTKrGmdgxuX1fOMTXwUrLERRmuFoH4s215j7DliadU1g0YQ9V5_fOIGjCYMXZHR8zLj72O2xCcHnUqJqYV4Mb67mon4qRokpD4rgVcdARvDWR9zNnM87lvdnqlGUCgWES0Fz/s1600/20180702_192207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho6YrfvX8_CTKrGmdgxuX1fOMTXwUrLERRmuFoH4s215j7DliadU1g0YQ9V5_fOIGjCYMXZHR8zLj72O2xCcHnUqJqYV4Mb67mon4qRokpD4rgVcdARvDWR9zNnM87lvdnqlGUCgWES0Fz/s320/20180702_192207.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ubiquitous Spanish beer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Here I was back at the start/finish after only managing a quarter of the distance and no place to go since I didn't book a hotel for the days of the race. Since I would get into one until the next afternoon I walked back to my car, leaned the seat all the way back and tried to sleep. I did manage to get a few hours of sleep before the sun was up and made it too hot to sleep in the car. I tried to clean up as well as I could with no shower access and then hung around the cafes near the race HQ.<br />
<br />
The day was spent eating, laying around watching the World Cup and wondering how those that remained in the race were doing. Early in the afternoon a rather nasty thunderstorm moved through. I later learned that the storm had caused the organizers to stop runners at checkpoints and eventually cancelling the race for those who had not reached a certain distance due to lightening and large hail. This would have meant that even if I had kept going and miraculously made the cutoff, I would have had my race end anyway.<br />
<br />
Some consolation was gained when talking to a few runners with serious resumes and they stated that this race was one of the most difficult around. I certainly didn't help myself with my training. The one true regret I have is that I didn't get to see the rest of the course. The portion I did see was beautiful and distracted me from any of the usual ultramarathon suffering. Then again, I didn't last long enough to reach a typical suffering point.<br />
<br />
It was an extremely memorable trip. I finally got to see Barcelona. I met a whole new group of runners from all over the world. I learned about more races. I visited and explored in a place I never would have gone otherwise. Andorra was beautiful and I am looking forward to coming back to finish this race one day.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEApNGipQt1kn1cCiEQMDoVu8m-9vSS9B04TQEWtT1lzr4UxGDpwPFpPhuQgHRwYK0RSxN1lV9pEx7PZXKzDPO_r-a78Md2N_bFnge5B7X5zGa6122T5bGGyMEr1CZNITcUP9w0T3A2X2/s1600/20180706_210330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEApNGipQt1kn1cCiEQMDoVu8m-9vSS9B04TQEWtT1lzr4UxGDpwPFpPhuQgHRwYK0RSxN1lV9pEx7PZXKzDPO_r-a78Md2N_bFnge5B7X5zGa6122T5bGGyMEr1CZNITcUP9w0T3A2X2/s320/20180706_210330.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Even my trip home was memorable. After 10 days, I was looking forward to being home. I had to get up around 1 AM to make the drive back to Barcelona for my flight. Dinner at my hotel didn't start until 7:30 so that did not leave much time for sleep, which I only ended up getting an hour or two. Driving through the mountains and roundabouts in the dark at 2AM with little sleep was a bit stressful. I couldn't wait to get to the freeway. When I was almost out of Andorra, I saw a person up the road swinging what looked like a flashlight. I assumed it was a stranded driver until I saw the lights on top of the car. They signaled for me to stop. Rolling down the window, I said hello. "You speak English?" the policeman asked me.<br />
"Yes"<br />
"This is alcohol screening" and then they proceeded to hand me a package with a mouthpiece in it, and directed me to plug it into the device he had.<br />
It was now I though about the one beer I had at dinner 6 hours ago. What was the law here? Was any trace at all too much? I kept my eyes on the digital screen as I blew into the mouthpiece. 0.00 and I was on my way. I had avoided Andorran prison, at least for now. I eventually made it home after 30 hours of car driving, plane flying and train riding. Much longer than I lasted on the course<br />
<br />
I've struggled to run much in the time since, almost as much a I have struggle to write this recap. The decline since finishing the Order of Hrimthurs has not appeared to swing back yet. I was happy with the marathon training but overall I'm finding it harder and harder to put in the work needed to perform at my best at these events. Maybe I'm not really cut out for this. Maybe I'm not being honest with myself over why I attempt these races.<br />
<br />
The thought of giving up on this has crossed my mind very fleetingly but even that is jarring. There is so much I feel like I want to try to do but is it worth the physical and mental toll? I don't know. Maybe a short break is needed to reset. However, the idea of training to build endurance back again from zero is not pleasant.<br />
<br />
I am still very excited about Iditarod and will be working towards that for the remainder of the year. First though I have the Bigfoot 200 this coming weekend. Perhaps it will be the catalyst I need to get restarted and invigorated. Either way I will try to enjoy it, work hard and make it a positive experience.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Random photo section:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7VuufnpZgsetOkSZhsb3x9zdv24w2YMDNZD9RwRYqX6L4db_mjNUTCHFJWGuW1lQLVnQSygbiMXLsw7a-QB79dI3bvFJKbHNbqMFYJShPHq8jvDod2a1TnPsIEZ26hzTRVEG2qk80hc39/s1600/20180709_094336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7VuufnpZgsetOkSZhsb3x9zdv24w2YMDNZD9RwRYqX6L4db_mjNUTCHFJWGuW1lQLVnQSygbiMXLsw7a-QB79dI3bvFJKbHNbqMFYJShPHq8jvDod2a1TnPsIEZ26hzTRVEG2qk80hc39/s320/20180709_094336.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL3W7A9_4JQrTCxRVZ7zeF9plMHEKsQeLOcY-pyXnajRFDRO0ykjvPrO1LPHJGicAR3I8MpjANokGovsmo7QDTYvXPeJHcYjOzAHdrgwXelOGi5wLik3V_GqjVMyIeqUJxUCS36gCMRkZo/s1600/20180709_100628.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL3W7A9_4JQrTCxRVZ7zeF9plMHEKsQeLOcY-pyXnajRFDRO0ykjvPrO1LPHJGicAR3I8MpjANokGovsmo7QDTYvXPeJHcYjOzAHdrgwXelOGi5wLik3V_GqjVMyIeqUJxUCS36gCMRkZo/s320/20180709_100628.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhENhtd00_HKaEJKToVbRyUjIouIBCoT1u-MpsjcBX3UMd-aurURE4uH9rxni_Tr4SlA2DMBXULQgcFZPG_dPaRmIM0hnE3CIuBrQXlMe3VIwmg8L8O0JM1buciRqwBYrC0lMDFQyBiBo6u/s1600/20180708_163017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhENhtd00_HKaEJKToVbRyUjIouIBCoT1u-MpsjcBX3UMd-aurURE4uH9rxni_Tr4SlA2DMBXULQgcFZPG_dPaRmIM0hnE3CIuBrQXlMe3VIwmg8L8O0JM1buciRqwBYrC0lMDFQyBiBo6u/s320/20180708_163017.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqlTmuvv2FT9oyCvy8FrptRX0JGBKuqS6pFY1qpslPfr7i-up_3asxwNCfiK-tP2WQGE4LI14U5I8zVvaFECPkebcyX_QyxWMlQa4wi_Spml1a7lcXVH0hR7GdfImnonKFGOY3n05kfMHZ/s1600/20180708_115836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqlTmuvv2FT9oyCvy8FrptRX0JGBKuqS6pFY1qpslPfr7i-up_3asxwNCfiK-tP2WQGE4LI14U5I8zVvaFECPkebcyX_QyxWMlQa4wi_Spml1a7lcXVH0hR7GdfImnonKFGOY3n05kfMHZ/s320/20180708_115836.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYfby16OkIeTpcbbq2w-CnFDwChDGf-xGoIwgtqCqWRP516mWcY9vmJ7MnPV83LOU8g03WEfRmDi90m1LwBf5WY0WHOWZJoWqgnoI0B_A8esKnpiKU2V7HAFJJMDmP9ALv3dkSP_nitVng/s1600/20180708_111504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYfby16OkIeTpcbbq2w-CnFDwChDGf-xGoIwgtqCqWRP516mWcY9vmJ7MnPV83LOU8g03WEfRmDi90m1LwBf5WY0WHOWZJoWqgnoI0B_A8esKnpiKU2V7HAFJJMDmP9ALv3dkSP_nitVng/s320/20180708_111504.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvB-LV5UCGWbyMCxm_2cWr6aqihCCbGb4k5VEJpCjCojLBkGEmElMG6JHmt7_s9ZlvYV95iBJMfnZp5HV-wyoggNIsJLxgOZGTMVVeiup2HsqDvWKdZBj5KO3syUxJcdy2PhJVrqMQoon/s1600/20180707_133714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvB-LV5UCGWbyMCxm_2cWr6aqihCCbGb4k5VEJpCjCojLBkGEmElMG6JHmt7_s9ZlvYV95iBJMfnZp5HV-wyoggNIsJLxgOZGTMVVeiup2HsqDvWKdZBj5KO3syUxJcdy2PhJVrqMQoon/s320/20180707_133714.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvOEa4KRaoqI6M6NTSrJ5oQKWBj5cWkBQnFGhCLgTn2RfFBZIEYZueglHdpjMUiDN14Nb9BD4-TrJOu1ZOUee48CerzTpFHx11uUALLk3eQoKM78odSZ3bWmsFRJpO2g8vb-jZ7Z4NYvOj/s1600/20180705_094644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvOEa4KRaoqI6M6NTSrJ5oQKWBj5cWkBQnFGhCLgTn2RfFBZIEYZueglHdpjMUiDN14Nb9BD4-TrJOu1ZOUee48CerzTpFHx11uUALLk3eQoKM78odSZ3bWmsFRJpO2g8vb-jZ7Z4NYvOj/s320/20180705_094644.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXqaDYs7Bavpz9afOV4CqGu6UMgDBCKlY3VmTPtWBR-TFdbwJCT8WDG_blgugj5du6JoQYx1WDc9lm5C5kMFFWUONIeIuwJJiJc47DiDawBRe-BA44hPhreRNwyquxmuZBorZ6Q1Reql6z/s1600/20180704_202958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXqaDYs7Bavpz9afOV4CqGu6UMgDBCKlY3VmTPtWBR-TFdbwJCT8WDG_blgugj5du6JoQYx1WDc9lm5C5kMFFWUONIeIuwJJiJc47DiDawBRe-BA44hPhreRNwyquxmuZBorZ6Q1Reql6z/s320/20180704_202958.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNgRNB28qclMm0m0MN9Ahd1-ID5b1WtK3X1CLlTQyQkf2LEyab6Qc2KWGusUYeWMKc9iP_8YrOCqsmbW5TIZXFTOVcWR6DdmZ1uJNFKQ0X-io7laKMNUYQC5vpTtwf_p_hNImHTNDnlim/s1600/20180704_173147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNgRNB28qclMm0m0MN9Ahd1-ID5b1WtK3X1CLlTQyQkf2LEyab6Qc2KWGusUYeWMKc9iP_8YrOCqsmbW5TIZXFTOVcWR6DdmZ1uJNFKQ0X-io7laKMNUYQC5vpTtwf_p_hNImHTNDnlim/s320/20180704_173147.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghrauFJrwwCSH4ivhWqJ_lvJTExHnx5WDM0TAqHAGIboUZVcZFWrE2l-RFNCPK06jMnRWf4fUHtT0p78U1HFSkB2a0B_PUcaDvXl7OBMLw-c_cVm5n4XrnDJll0JqJlqomo3ewnSe7lXsB/s1600/20180704_171517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghrauFJrwwCSH4ivhWqJ_lvJTExHnx5WDM0TAqHAGIboUZVcZFWrE2l-RFNCPK06jMnRWf4fUHtT0p78U1HFSkB2a0B_PUcaDvXl7OBMLw-c_cVm5n4XrnDJll0JqJlqomo3ewnSe7lXsB/s320/20180704_171517.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSetCrxv3dAJAkm6JaC_FDe4l2os4p-I1jZXyZaZsYBontvJBj1ZlJzoGgbgiIz_QaqDK9KW8w4b6EakTWJDIn2G9R9L_amfCbdgrwpgqN6ERdr5Er2Z8Zpi9CM6u-ozWaSMG2Hh5L20sC/s1600/20180703_122453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSetCrxv3dAJAkm6JaC_FDe4l2os4p-I1jZXyZaZsYBontvJBj1ZlJzoGgbgiIz_QaqDK9KW8w4b6EakTWJDIn2G9R9L_amfCbdgrwpgqN6ERdr5Er2Z8Zpi9CM6u-ozWaSMG2Hh5L20sC/s320/20180703_122453.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCZhJy32CRMPtbt3tUqZ4oEBisMe-6a8tB4yl9er9uW4hyzCNQSEsZQ5_J0mdvgw1h0INe2UghXc_xYK8vLOwC9o5wSzrWL7oFeuszYGPjBApLhNE4RV3sZ7O8dM6gSdu74LquVTbVb52/s1600/20180703_110602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCZhJy32CRMPtbt3tUqZ4oEBisMe-6a8tB4yl9er9uW4hyzCNQSEsZQ5_J0mdvgw1h0INe2UghXc_xYK8vLOwC9o5wSzrWL7oFeuszYGPjBApLhNE4RV3sZ7O8dM6gSdu74LquVTbVb52/s320/20180703_110602.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-53254001472595559062018-06-27T10:46:00.001-04:002018-06-27T10:46:15.263-04:00Ronda del Cims Preview<br />
Once again I feel like the time has slipped away from me. After my last race at Grayson Highlands I felt like I had plenty of time to finish preparing for Ronda del Cims in Andorra. I had visions of all I felt I should do to be ready and, like always, I end up doing only a fraction of it. Either way, the race is almost here and it will turn out however it turns out. I feel a little unprepared but I care much less about that than I usually do. This race is going to be ridiculously hard, perhaps the most difficult race yet, but I'm going into it relaxed and without expectations.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0yFgis2fmWBjEI1rGiNTr4Qd4qPTOBkdEw4DtJQArG-xBZfbSQTuFTwK0PBCUJjm_Qu3WqJDyp2caEdcrzHE_Ad5QI0tBmcmkOo31ExSP2Fnrr3KthHKzJV-m23QyDTcVwb4oEPiKo6v/s1600/IMG_20180617_193930_165.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0yFgis2fmWBjEI1rGiNTr4Qd4qPTOBkdEw4DtJQArG-xBZfbSQTuFTwK0PBCUJjm_Qu3WqJDyp2caEdcrzHE_Ad5QI0tBmcmkOo31ExSP2Fnrr3KthHKzJV-m23QyDTcVwb4oEPiKo6v/s320/IMG_20180617_193930_165.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My current assessment of my fitness</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The Principality of Andorra is a micro-nation nestled in the Pyrenees Mountains between France and Spain. Ronda del Cims is one of several race distances offered and the longest solo version. It follows the border around the entire country, which covers around 170 km (105 miles) and has over 80k feet of elevation change. The course is mountainous and technical which makes it one of the select few races to be a Hardrock 100 qualifier. The altitude is not as severe as Hardrock but will still be a factor for a Midwesterner like me.<br />
<br />
It took no more than a couple messages from Scott and I was signing up for this race. The pictures and videos were breathtaking. I have since heard nothing but good things about this race. Despite vowing to do fewer races this year, here I was signing up for another one. The fact that it was in Europe made it even crazier. The opportunity was there so I am taking it.<br />
<br />
Right now, I feel like I have a different attitude and outlook compared to previous races. I know it is going to be very hard. I know it will be beautiful and memorable if I finish or not. Maybe I am maturing in this silly hobby and not taking race results as seriously as I once did. I'm never going to win or place high but I still want to feel like I ran as well as I could. I've come to a place where truly enjoying the overall experience is most important. I'm learning more and more that having the experience is the most important part.<br />
<br />
The weeks since my last race have been filled with events that have helped finally reach this new outlook. I had been moving in this direction already. Celebrity suicides brought mental health issues out as a topic of discussion and contemplation. I have watched as many of my running friends grieved the loss of a young lady from our ultra community, who I didn't know but wish I had. The sudden traffic death of a former co-worker who had survived cancer and whom I had just spent some time reminiscing a few short weeks prior. All these things have made trivial things seem even more trivial to me. It has also made time with friends and family much more meaningful.<br />
<br />
This past week was Western States week, which is probably the biggest week of the year for ultrarunning. Everyone is watching and following the race. For some reason, it seems that every year this week brings out the best and worst in the community. There are lots of positive things that happen related to that race. Tons of encouragement and relating of inspiring stories. There are those with criticisms of the race or the hype around it, much of which is valid. However, it also seems to bring out petty grudges and jealousies. I've been noticing more and more of that recently around ultra social media which is disappointing. I choose to just run when and where I want to and not worry about the other garbage.<br />
<br />
I've said it, and many others have as well, so I'm not really breaking any ground here. It's just running. It is something I do that has provided an outlet. Right now, it is providing me an opportunity to run around some weird European country left over from middle ages. I can go into with an expectation to perform to some unrealistic standard I expect of myself or what I believe others expect, when in the end, I'll be the one with the memories and a my finishing time won't matter to anyone, including me.<br />
<br />
Anyway, my training has been mediocre. It should still be enough to get through this run. I'm counting on experience to get me through the worst parts. As always, if I just keep moving forward and try to keep the attitude positive, I'll do just fine. In the end, the race is just a small part of the whole package. It is a reminder that whatever we are facing at the moment is just one thing that will pass onto the next thing, good or bad.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-39296008365096673872018-06-07T10:40:00.002-04:002018-06-07T10:40:43.603-04:00Pacing at Lighthouse 100<span id="goog_739949077"></span><span id="goog_739949078"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibe6uQ8C4m9rQqacKi18wMMhIggP6EllTb_pfaVf_ReFrpKvu5E_uUMcG_1UWn50hUw61WnDXQpuPqwVhwB6svDPQDfCwHW_ynoHLpYPNwO7C4V0XY4kAlQ0bB4e8CRYkB7JecfrMF7rPs/s1600/IMG_20180603_195718_844.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibe6uQ8C4m9rQqacKi18wMMhIggP6EllTb_pfaVf_ReFrpKvu5E_uUMcG_1UWn50hUw61WnDXQpuPqwVhwB6svDPQDfCwHW_ynoHLpYPNwO7C4V0XY4kAlQ0bB4e8CRYkB7JecfrMF7rPs/s320/IMG_20180603_195718_844.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The starting point</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
While creating my schedule for this year, I had considered running a 100 miler in late May or June as a step towards Ronda del Cims and Bigfoot 200. The one that seemed to fit in well was the Lighthouse 100. The timing was decent and the location in northern Michigan was convenient. I was close to running it but decided I should concentrate on specific training for my upcoming races and avoid possible burn out. However, the opportunity came up to be a pacer and I couldn't pass it up.<br />
<br />
All this time in ultrarunning and I have finally had the pacer experience. I have seen plenty of fellow runners with their pacers late in races and occasionally have been jealous. I've never had a pacer and this was the first time I have paced. It turned out to be an excellent experience.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4geybTUR2DMaQ_VUEgnKhKDD9ix_YkA03DwjDT1FD5dD_DCLS1f_cLoWzxDMgHNnSrhZJGkLELAh-od4s0-X87l1FfpAOX4-1xmdd55xnpDws3y8YZJchdOwaFro9sXfm6oWojHH3T4iF/s1600/IMG_20180603_195837_374.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4geybTUR2DMaQ_VUEgnKhKDD9ix_YkA03DwjDT1FD5dD_DCLS1f_cLoWzxDMgHNnSrhZJGkLELAh-od4s0-X87l1FfpAOX4-1xmdd55xnpDws3y8YZJchdOwaFro9sXfm6oWojHH3T4iF/s320/IMG_20180603_195837_374.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perfect day for a run</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div>
The Lighthouse 100 is in its 2nd year. This year the course was reversed from the inaugural year, running from the tip of Old Mission peninsula, down through Traverse City and on to the city of Petoskey, basically following along the coast of Lake Michigan. The whole course is almost exclusively on paved roads with some stretches of paved bike path. The weather was perfect for this type of race. There were aid stations spaced about 10 miles apart with some water drops in between for runners without crews. This was also the first time I had experienced a race with this type of road crewing, where the crews would just move a 2 or 3 miles ahead, along the road and meet their runner.<br />
<br />
So the opportunity for me to be involved was in the form of a Facebook post asking for a pacer nearby. Usually I would not respond to such a request but I decided to step out of my comfort zone and go ahead and give it a try. The runner has much ultra experience, which gave me a chance to learn. Also, she is a multiple finisher of a race that has some interest to me. How could I pass this up?<br />
<br />
It was strange watching the race start and not be in the pack disappearing up the road. We made a couple stops in the first 9 or 10 miles, which wound through the vineyards and orchards of the Old Mission Peninsula. At this point I jumped in to start my pacing duties, which I would be sharing with one other. There was no real plan as to how we would go about this but ended up just running until we felt like we needed a break and then would switch off. This race had no restriction on when a pacer could join in, which is commonly around 50 miles, give or take. This meant I would get plenty of miles in.<br />
<br />
I was nervous about being able to be a good pacer. I wasn't sure if I was fit enough to keep up or interesting enough to keep a runner company for many hours. The alternate pacer was just coming off a recent illness and was not at 100% which would increase my miles a little further. He did a decent number of miles despite not feeling well.<br />
<br />
There were many stories told, many about races or people we've met at races. I mostly listened and tried to absorb the knowledge. The talking kept my mind off all the running. The pace was consistent. We would reach the crew vehicle every half an hour or so which made the going seem very easy. Watching her and her husband, who was the crew chief, work at the stops was an education. The organization and efficiency was amazing. They had a system developed over many years that worked very well.<br />
<br />
Running through the sunny afternoon, I began to realize how quickly the miles seemed to be passing by. We were into the late 60s and early 70s by the time the sun set. The pace slowed but the relentless focus was still there. The day was not too hot but the sun going down allowed temperatures to become even more comfortable for running.<br />
<br />
Eventually the miles are whittled down to single digits remaining. We passed through a couple towns, getting strange looks from the locals wondering who these weird runners with headlamps on were. The final section was nearly all a paved path which was much less stressful than running on the side of a busy road. We began to anticipate the finish around every corner and finally there it was.<br />
<br />
I ended up running about 60 miles and felt good. My runner finished with her second best 100 mile time ever so I felt good to have, perhaps, helped make that happen. It was strange to run so much and not be a "finisher" in the race but being able to help someone else reach a goal was very satisfying.<br />
<br />
The whole pacing experience was very good. There was much to learn from watching the race from this perspective. The mental approach and attitude I was able to observe hold valuable lessons to apply to my own running. Hopefully I can apply these very quickly as I have two big races coming up shortly. I will be looking for chances to pace again. It seems I have been missing out on a fun part of this whole ultrarunning thing. Maybe I'll even consider having a pacer myself in a race some day.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-26503075182481175962018-05-26T12:08:00.002-04:002018-05-26T12:08:56.200-04:00Breaking News<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAGcE-NYty8ISRafxge1ptEV4drp8u_N2U9KntWL3uDf7O2bQlfUuUYm5j-CGbSWvfkI1qcoR-BbQMWR_y5pT4YBQQ3wCtsymeNC2C1QYvb-t19MojjgYOodBh4sZPV2gwSfcf26W_PJd2/s1600/20170106_075103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAGcE-NYty8ISRafxge1ptEV4drp8u_N2U9KntWL3uDf7O2bQlfUuUYm5j-CGbSWvfkI1qcoR-BbQMWR_y5pT4YBQQ3wCtsymeNC2C1QYvb-t19MojjgYOodBh4sZPV2gwSfcf26W_PJd2/s320/20170106_075103.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A few posts ago I hinted at some pending exciting news to come. Well, today is the day to report on that. I'm very excited about this journey ahead for myself and the others I know who are taking part. At the same time I am humbled by the task in front of me.<br />
<br />
Last year, I completed the Order of Hrimthurs, which was the hardest thing I had ever done. It included the life changing 160 miles of Tuscobia, the legendary and iconic Arrowhead 135 and, finally, Actif Epica which I appreciate more as time passes. When I started running ultras 6 short years ago, those were all races that were unreachable and impossible to imagine starting, let alone finishing. The lesson learned is that by taking a chance, you find out you can do much more than you think.<br />
<br />
Early last month I decided to take another chance on something that long seemed an unattainable dream. After going back and forth as to whether I was ready or capable, I submitted an application to what had become a bucket list race for me. Yesterday I received this...<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYouElHDG1M5sVkxFkgEkxxm8sWCAFjm-i1VuPbexFXKHTqdDueJ-SVRHSzW2nVDZtd0Lh28ZS4BwfwLEf-IcXZTLyldYAT8_Q_NOy9tCVO05W1xw2p_HAfcN2OBBCJazJLGM5ZVrySP2m/s1600/20180525_193041.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="950" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYouElHDG1M5sVkxFkgEkxxm8sWCAFjm-i1VuPbexFXKHTqdDueJ-SVRHSzW2nVDZtd0Lh28ZS4BwfwLEf-IcXZTLyldYAT8_Q_NOy9tCVO05W1xw2p_HAfcN2OBBCJazJLGM5ZVrySP2m/s400/20180525_193041.png" width="236" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I've only known about this race since I started running ultras so to say this was a lifelong dream would be vastly overstating it. I have had a fascination with Alaska since I was 8 or 9 years old. It was a place of mystery, freedom and adventure. I've always wanted to go and now I will have the chance.<br />
<br />
My previous races qualified me to enter the Iditarod Trail Invitational 350. I will have 10 days to make the 350 mile journey from near Anchorage to McGrath, along the Iditarod Trail in February 2019. And now I am officially on the roster.<br />
<br />
I have plenty on my plate to keep me focused this year but as of now, everything is work towards ITI 2019. There is a ton of work and research in the months ahead but this will be an adventure to remember. Stay tuned!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.iditarodtrailinvitational.com/">http://www.iditarodtrailinvitational.com/</a><br />
<br />
PS: Congratulations to fellow Hrimthurs, Paul Schlagel and Jeff Rock for also getting in. Knowing they will be there will make this experience even better. <br />
<br />
<img alt="ITI350.png" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5a2b0e396957da4d8ed2b045/t/5a5fb94b652dea1ea72c6a59/1526484358134/ITI350.png?format=500w" /><br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-64858272489947817582018-05-25T06:29:00.001-04:002018-05-25T06:29:46.119-04:00Am I A Brony?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmc9TiISlta4ytw_d_hdCGxW3uGp9BpyORHd8h5_alplZ5tnXAAQv9C_f_5MIm-YTh0TLftjtzfJs-xX-tS_XfP1S2Xqvy3pgMzjB97i7xEZgzLVVdwXE-ui2vyXbYtswa0iqXZqxiPoGp/s1600/20180525_061905.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmc9TiISlta4ytw_d_hdCGxW3uGp9BpyORHd8h5_alplZ5tnXAAQv9C_f_5MIm-YTh0TLftjtzfJs-xX-tS_XfP1S2Xqvy3pgMzjB97i7xEZgzLVVdwXE-ui2vyXbYtswa0iqXZqxiPoGp/s320/20180525_061905.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Several years ago, I learned<span style="background-color: yellow;"> </span>about this crazy race down south called the Georgia Death Race. With a name like that, how could I not want to run it? It was (and still is) a very tough run through the mountains of north Georgia. In the weeks leading up to the race I was amused by the antics of race director, a guy named Sean "Run Bum" Blanton. Then I was impressed, when due to permitting issues, he had to change the direction of the course at the last minute. Not only did he pull this off but he then, at what I am guessing was his own expense, had new race shirts made so the text matched the new course. The race and everything about it was enjoyable (except maybe a few of the long climbs but that is what I signed up for). I looked into his other races and found one in western Virginia that had as the main feature, wild mini ponies. Being a grown man that is not afraid to admit that I really wanted to see the ponies, I finally was able to sign up this year.<br />
<br />
The Grayson Highlands 50k takes place on the trails of Grayson Highlands State Park in Virginia. Driving in to the area, I was reminded of the topography at Georgia Death Race but maybe not as severe. The location was remote, leaving me with zero to very small pockets of minimal cell phone coverage, which was just fine with me. This allowed me to relax the evening prior with a book and get well rested.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbDHdubCctfrbAPEYQSuyZqevu3xzdZIdjOpn8Md-jwsHGcYSMzfmEyJCzM00lksUCzYTNL310IxGCCVaV_I1TlOnOs6MXeRt6Bhxbsf4oxvYAXIBD98ShMNmQ5wqwcGP-1zOkxrgAYZw/s1600/20180505_073513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbDHdubCctfrbAPEYQSuyZqevu3xzdZIdjOpn8Md-jwsHGcYSMzfmEyJCzM00lksUCzYTNL310IxGCCVaV_I1TlOnOs6MXeRt6Bhxbsf4oxvYAXIBD98ShMNmQ5wqwcGP-1zOkxrgAYZw/s320/20180505_073513.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The forecast was calling for the strong possibility of thunderstorms and rain during the race. However, that morning was overcast but the rain seemed to be holding off and the temperatures were looking good. Just before we were sent off at the start we were informed that the night before they had decided to change the course to a low, unexposed route to avoid lightning issues, but had last minute changed it back and Sean was out at that moment running to reset the course markings. This ensured that we would run the route mostly likely to encounter the ponies.<br />
<br />
The race started at the park visitor center that basically sat at a high point in the park so this meant the start was all downhill. My first two miles flying down the road clocked in at low 8 minutes per mile, which included a stop to retie my shoe. Crazy. We made a quick turn and then the splits became more real and familiar.<br />
<br />
The course was much more rocky and technical than I expected, however, I wasn't really concerned with how much it was slowing me down. There was some good variety in terrain which included open runable sections, technical climbs and descents, and a section along a river that required some scrambling on all fours.<br />
<br />
I felt good most of the day considering I had run a fast (for me) marathon just two weeks prior. Compared to that, this pace felt like a crawl but I didn't care. I kept telling myself to enjoy the scenery and the day. I think I did. Mostly, I just refused to feel bad, even when I started getting tired and wanted to be done. It was, I think, a good lesson in attitude to bring to later races. The idea of preparing for these races and then just wanting them to be over is strange when you consider the logic. Being in the moment and finding the joy is the point.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh32wWWbdc50vnpA1Zq3KIwgSCx0yl5-ru37E7MGAUZmhfxkxLe4sAT0Ae1mS_DS6KpjF3_cvh14gkEnOBPL02ZXNJszgBHx_gzIUGzZbvfsu-HdMYmddW1kMwKMCxZZdkpGgf0P2TO989/s1600/FILE0014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh32wWWbdc50vnpA1Zq3KIwgSCx0yl5-ru37E7MGAUZmhfxkxLe4sAT0Ae1mS_DS6KpjF3_cvh14gkEnOBPL02ZXNJszgBHx_gzIUGzZbvfsu-HdMYmddW1kMwKMCxZZdkpGgf0P2TO989/s320/FILE0014.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzSP_UQT_L5lOSHR1b2t6LUkIKdm-5FjPdCtAePEIElfLvx00eCoFv3Skh-aUDwMo0yULC6VnhQenapcCQjrzr3Ksh7YEe57CgTy4SHEIUI02asd816QpHbh1P0Mked7qUW4cIsgmm3v6s/s1600/FILE0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzSP_UQT_L5lOSHR1b2t6LUkIKdm-5FjPdCtAePEIElfLvx00eCoFv3Skh-aUDwMo0yULC6VnhQenapcCQjrzr3Ksh7YEe57CgTy4SHEIUI02asd816QpHbh1P0Mked7qUW4cIsgmm3v6s/s320/FILE0009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I was concerned for a bit early on since I had not seen the ponies. Eventually we came upon them and it was very cool. The first small herd was mixed in with some longhorn cattle, which I heard may also be up there. It seems we crossed the highlands several times and each time came across some ponies, closer on each encounter.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirr2xs3fADrgRCK4UdlcervAoRRpqLP90zbFTvcQqRdNHmbwy_xE2u1eYEj6J79WCsFH8ZfpbHM66F8aCd0m6bA79rOOlik8MFLBEdN_abwJfVcrT9PwBExA_R45fnuIoBCbYNcsv_umfx/s1600/FILE0015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirr2xs3fADrgRCK4UdlcervAoRRpqLP90zbFTvcQqRdNHmbwy_xE2u1eYEj6J79WCsFH8ZfpbHM66F8aCd0m6bA79rOOlik8MFLBEdN_abwJfVcrT9PwBExA_R45fnuIoBCbYNcsv_umfx/s320/FILE0015.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Real life mini ponies!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgg38tnuNiaScRpqR6gExBox5Sslrm8irmQizF6p4csxKs2mlJ5cr85xVA5sBrMaJwg8kXjdy3hRWpv0WwL1yp6JqCSeOmxonvev-iEY0fi-Nxi8BwFxVwWex0jaskSvX8Y4EZ4DNuotR-/s1600/FILE0016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgg38tnuNiaScRpqR6gExBox5Sslrm8irmQizF6p4csxKs2mlJ5cr85xVA5sBrMaJwg8kXjdy3hRWpv0WwL1yp6JqCSeOmxonvev-iEY0fi-Nxi8BwFxVwWex0jaskSvX8Y4EZ4DNuotR-/s320/FILE0016.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The final section was a long climb back up towards the visitor center that felt like it would never end. When it did, the course passed right by the the finish but we weren't done. There was still another short loop to run. Cruelty.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW19k7drRoeJvD-fFxncoZ1VRgwT8QrZPii4bn7wg5uTRZh1QRjb-kOmHKvAkqPA4lKqUkae8gTasJA3Go7zTvJfaqYkZxWMnH41e2Rqv11A5HWNhijYCDNrskViwDI8qla1wLFK9C-I5t/s1600/IMG_4542.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW19k7drRoeJvD-fFxncoZ1VRgwT8QrZPii4bn7wg5uTRZh1QRjb-kOmHKvAkqPA4lKqUkae8gTasJA3Go7zTvJfaqYkZxWMnH41e2Rqv11A5HWNhijYCDNrskViwDI8qla1wLFK9C-I5t/s320/IMG_4542.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost finished thumbs up<br />
photo credit: Appalachian Exposures</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I finished in a time of 6:40 which means it took me a full 3 hours longer than the marathon 2 weeks ago. There weren't even that many extra miles as, at least according to my GPS, the race was around 28 or 29 miles, not the full 50k advertised. The climbs and technicality more than made up for those "missing" miles. Overall, I had a great time.<br />
<br />
As always when I travel a good distance to run a race, I meet new people and get to hear about races I had not heard of. This trip was no exception. Everyone was very friendly and interesting, making the time and miles pass by easily as we talked. Of course, now I have a bunch of new races to look into and add to the growing list.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Now the days are rapidly counting down to my next adventure at Ronda del Cims in Andorra. That and more coming up in the next episodes.<br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-39783855783539629262018-04-30T16:33:00.001-04:002018-04-30T16:33:54.047-04:00Glass City Marathon Recap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25rW193v6T6uxNIpLUe-j6X7o8tbq2lyOKJ_ubEEqSqiU4dghxHZ6uyAJOW4kp-T2Fd0xyVtb1PypFrpUmF1pbd-LyzDoe7o4zK6R6exIkqwz4b4pNJvzH_2BeAJxsfdHmt1ISH80IhuN/s1600/20180430_155859.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25rW193v6T6uxNIpLUe-j6X7o8tbq2lyOKJ_ubEEqSqiU4dghxHZ6uyAJOW4kp-T2Fd0xyVtb1PypFrpUmF1pbd-LyzDoe7o4zK6R6exIkqwz4b4pNJvzH_2BeAJxsfdHmt1ISH80IhuN/s320/20180430_155859.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
The day of reckoning always arrives, creeping up slowly at first and then suddenly it is front of you, regardless of your state of preparedness. I was relaxed going into the final tapering phase, which is rare for me. I was much more confident about being able to accomplish my main goal but had plenty of remaining doubt as well. I tried to keep my plan simple. I would go out running slightly under the overall pace I needed to meet the goal time and hold it as long as possible.<br />
<br />
The weather race morning was near perfect. The sky was mostly clear and the temperatures in the low 40s, meaning the heat would not be a factor even after the sun rose completely. I wore shorts and singlet and some cheap gloves I could pull off as I warmed up.<br />
<br />
I found my way to the assigned start corral and soon heard my name called out. Lewis and Brian, who had completed the Midwest Slam of Ultras with me a couple years ago, were calling me from the close to the front of the crowd, so I moved up to join them. After listening to the anthems and speeches about the race, I took of with them.<br />
<br />
The first few miles did not feel too bad as I tried to settle in to the pace as we circled around the University of Toledo campus. It was a strange feeling to start a race running that hard, or even just running that hard at all since I never do it. I began to think there was a possibility of pulling my goal of qualifying for the Boston Marathon.<br />
<br />
The course ran mostly through residential neighborhood streets and on a paved path through a park. I quickly realized that running at that tempo made even the smallest change in elevation very noticeable. The "hills" that I would barely even acknowledge in a trail race now seemed to drag me down, even though a quick look at the watch showed a minimal drop in pace.<br />
<br />
Once I reached 8 or 9 miles, I started to struggle to keep the pace up. I tried to relax and just keep moving, hoping to keep up. The mile splits were getting longer and longer. By the time I was at 11 miles I knew they would continue to drop and the "A" goal was probably out the window. This was a bit disappointing but not unexpected. I was still moving much faster than my PR race pace and that goal was down to a matter of by how much would I improve.<br />
<br />
I reached the half way point in a time close to 1:42, which if I could repeat in the second half would mean I could reach all my goals. However, my splits were still falling even when I felt I was pushing harder. It wasn't happening today.<br />
<br />
The second half was slow. I just settled in and let the miles click off. I was not having fun and wanted to be done. The thought of jumping on one of the relay buses back to the finish crossed my mind very briefly. When this idea formed I quickly laughed to myself. I had forgotten how much a road marathon hurt. I was feeling a little miserable but was finally uplifted by a few spectator comments about my hair late in the race. Always good for a laugh.<br />
<br />
So I had the remaining 13 miles to think about the failure to meet my goal. It would be very simple to have beat myself up over this but I soon made the realization that my goals only really matter to me. Any pressure that was created, was created by me, on myself. Whether or not I succeed has no bearing on anyone's day. I always appreciate any and all encouragement and I'm very happy if taking part in these races inspires others to try new things. It is hard to not compare myself to others and expect that I should be able to do what everyone else seems to do effortlessly. The fact is that these thing are hard for everyone, in their own way. Trying to meet an expectation based on what others are doing, that only matters to me is fruitless and in the end is meaningless.<br />
<br />
The cliche is that it is the journey is what matters. I know this and still have to be reminded periodically. The work I did prior to this race was intended to change my focus and try to regain my joy of running. It did this by forcing me to do difficult things that I had avoided before. I'm very sure this will help my in my training for future ultras.<br />
<br />
The final mile felt like I was dragging an anchor. The course wound around the football stadium before finally turning onto the field and finishing at the 50 yard line. I crossed the line in 3:40, which was well over my top goal but was my best ever marathon time by 4 minutes. The first half would have been my best ever half-marathon time. I should be and I am proud of the result.<br />
<br />
The recovery over the last week has been good. I was fairly sore for a few days. I did go out an run the following day which I normally would not do. It did help and I have run every day this week. I am ready for the next challenge.<br />
<br />
That next challenge is the Grayson Highlands 50k down in Virginia on May 5. Only 2 weeks between races so I will not do anything crazy as far as training goes. That will have to ramp up quickly following this next race since Ronda del Cims is coming quickly. I'll be reporting back shortly to cover the next race.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-45056018379812054712018-04-16T09:18:00.000-04:002018-04-16T09:18:00.980-04:00On The Road Again: A Quick Glass City Marathon Preview<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicnG6ifojZXp7kukhTJHaPbSj-TrH5xlDeyJyB4z3EayYGAXg9IwRkkBlKTNnPchyphenhyphentmhes-0phVjnfi89DKIvFIXgqrO0WNLMIzOg4HZjUAiBrMUyGbHhRUJSByKIcsUR1-al89ISAvigA/s1600/1353270903962_8640356.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="294" data-original-width="420" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicnG6ifojZXp7kukhTJHaPbSj-TrH5xlDeyJyB4z3EayYGAXg9IwRkkBlKTNnPchyphenhyphentmhes-0phVjnfi89DKIvFIXgqrO0WNLMIzOg4HZjUAiBrMUyGbHhRUJSByKIcsUR1-al89ISAvigA/s320/1353270903962_8640356.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
All the training work is done and it is almost time to run the Glass City Marathon in Toledo, my first road marathon in almost 4 years. I'm not sure what to think about my readiness. My last few speed workouts went reasonably well. I mean, I didn't feel like I was going to die. The truth will be revealed somewhere around 16 to 20 miles in. Maybe sooner. I don't know.<br />
<br />
My plan is to set my pace slightly ahead of the goal and then just try to hold on. The overall goal is to qualify for Boston, which for me is 3:25. To actually get into next year's race will require at least a couple minutes faster than that. So the goal hierarchy goes something like this:<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>Qualify fast enough to register for 2019 Boston (3:23ish)</li>
<li>Qualify (3:24:59)</li>
<li>Marathon PR (<3:44)</li>
<li>Finish and don't get hurt</li>
</ol>
<div>
I'd be very happy with the first 3 and perfectly fine with just a finish. Based on the training feedback, I believe a PR will be nearly certain without an injury or illness. The qualifying will be a close call and I'm sure, very taxing towards the end of the race. Those last few miles will show exactly how much that goal actually means to me. I'm looking forward to learning the answer. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The change up in training has provided a bit of what I was looking for when I decided to do this. It has renewed my enjoyment of running and made me appreciate it more. It has showed me that working on those things I'm not good at can be very positive. I should do more of it and will try to do just that. Hopefully this has taught me to be more aware of falling into a comfortable groove and that getting out of that groove requires hard work but it is rewarding work. I suppose this can apply to more than just running. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I am looking to moving back to the trails and will do so very soon after this race. The work I have just done should help there but I will have to begin my focus on the mountains. A different world but I'll get to that when it is time. Until then I will make sure to enjoy the race in front of me, the best part of which may be seeing others finish their first marathon.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In the meantime, some exciting things are happening that hopefully I can share soon. In the last couple of weeks there has been so much anticipation and some tough descisions. We will see how everything turns out soon but I have again been reminded that you have to take chances and face what scares you in order make dreams come true. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-49445790814328393812018-04-05T13:08:00.003-04:002018-04-05T13:08:55.222-04:00Reasons and Randoms<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-53nbwoA3c95BHDKs8Nm4PP4ByTwF4YqekiqiLT_IBFzt7_rMYOnQihPB9tDbYLoyKTj3Xi0tVBlQrXJQIteEqSdA8GfzpUEbXrx5T7AtJBBKFq0-_ooAys_co5xm44tuuuRQLh4BS-fS/s1600/20180109_121114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-53nbwoA3c95BHDKs8Nm4PP4ByTwF4YqekiqiLT_IBFzt7_rMYOnQihPB9tDbYLoyKTj3Xi0tVBlQrXJQIteEqSdA8GfzpUEbXrx5T7AtJBBKFq0-_ooAys_co5xm44tuuuRQLh4BS-fS/s320/20180109_121114.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Everyone has their reasons for running. Not everyone knows those reasons. I have been trying to figure out what my reasons are. I thought I knew them but maybe, like all things, they evolve and they change.<br />
<div>
Last year I went from a high to a low. I complete the Order of the Hrimthurs feeling I could do anything and went on to fail in 3 out of 4 races. I didn't work hard to prepare. I didn't make myself suffer enough during the races to finish. </div>
<div>
This year I decided to change it up and set a goal that would require a different focus and approach. Instead of just racking up miles and time on my feet, I would do the dreaded speed work. I haven't run a road marathon in nearly 4 years. Easy when compared to an ultra right? It's so much shorter. However, it is different. It is intense. It is another kind of suffering that I am not accustom to. Once again the whole game is so much more mental than physical. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've found the races I do the worst in are the one where I was stressed for one reason or another shortly prior to race day. My best were those that I went into with no expectation or concerns. It all speaks to the role of the mind in accomplishing physical tasks. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The speed work does not scare me a much as it once did. It is beginning to become familiar. It is still very hard and not comfortable. The race is just over 2 weeks away an I feel pretty good about it though not 100% confident. Physically I will be ready, but I worry about other factors. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Word salad and expressing vague thoughts. That's all any of this is. Fear of over-sharing, well maybe not exactly that, but of making others uncomfortable with what I choose to share. In the past, I would have said nothing. Selfishly, I feel better when I say it, even if it is uncomfortable. However, as you may have realized, I have come to believe that it takes a bit of discomfort for growth and improvement.<br />
<br />
While getting more comfortable with the discomfort of speed work, personally I have been struggling with some abrupt changes at work that seem to have triggered me to seriously evaluate the choices I have made. I am coming to realize that I really don't like what I do, what I chose as a career. I am finding no satisfaction in my work. It has been making me more negative and increasingly unhappy. Well, that's not completely correct as it is much more complicated in my mind. I suppose I'm just feeling unhappy even though I truly have nothing to complain about. From all appearances, my life is in a very good place, and it is. I have wonderful family and friends, a great paying, secure job, and zero tragedy in my life. That is what makes feeling this way even more frustrating. I know there is no real reason for it but here it is, sitting with me constantly. I can't just will it or reason it away.<br />
<br />
I have found some relief and an outlet in the structure and effort in training to qualify for the Boston Marathon. Running has felt very good again for the first time in quite a while. Last year I reached a point where I found no joy in it and this showed when I made my attempt at the Grand Slam of Ultrarunning. I had no drive or desire. That place within me, that I can physically feel myself reach into when I'm struggling was completely spent. For me this place is located somewhere deep in the abdomen, roughly between the belly button and the rib cage.<br />
<br />
Remarkably, that place seems to be full again at a time when I am struggling making it through a work day. I suppose I should try to look at it as a low point in an ultra, make some decisions about how to address it and eventually things will get better.<br />
<br />
So back to the question of why I run these races and what gets me through them. Well, it seems that it teaches me about myself and ways to deal with life issues. It gives me confidence that even when I don't feel my best, I am still able to do much more that I think I can. Also, I honestly feel like I have a need to prove to others that I can do more than they think I ever could as well. That really shouldn't matter but it does, so there.<br />
I've also been thinking about some of the people who have told me that my running posts and blogs have inspired them to do x or y. That is probably the coolest part of any of this. I'm hoping there are few more I haven't heard from and I hope there are more to come. Overall this seems like the best reason why and it's the one I'll stick with.<br />
<br /></div>
Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-24864439471864213652018-02-14T10:38:00.000-05:002018-02-14T10:38:32.552-05:00Zones of ComfortThe minutes seemed to tick by way too fast. I was approaching 20 minutes which would mark the end of the warm up portion and kick off what had been on my mind all day. Speed work. Specifically, 1 mile at 10k pace repeated 4 times with 5 minutes of rest in between. As the time came closer and closer, I felt myself tensing up. Emotions were welling up. I desperately didn't want to do this. It was nearly overwhelming. I was fighting the urge to give up and leave this for another day.<br />
The entire day I had been obsessively thinking about this upcoming work out. I had to keep reminding myself I would be fine. It's a 9 or 10 mile run in total. No problem. I am 2 weeks out from finishing the Arrowhead 135. Why would running 10 miles fill me with dread?<br />
Last year during my deep running funk I came to the conclusion that I should switch things up this year and have some new goals. One that I have been putting off was running a Boston Marathon Qualifying time. These are based on age and gender. For me, the time required is 3 hours 25 minutes. My personal best in the marathon was over 3 years ago in a time of 3 hours 44 minutes. To accomplish this new goal, I would have to run nearly a minute a mile faster. That is quite the obstacle to overcome. This marathon goal is just an arbitrary thing. It has no bearing on my value as a runner or person. It is just a target to work towards. The things that happen between now and then and how I deal with them are what truly count.<br />
In order to run 100 miles or further you basically just train by running as many slow miles as you can. Even then I believe you can get by on mental will alone. Being physically fit helps but you suffer either way and just bear it for long time.<br />
Running a "fast" marathon (fast being relative to each person's natural ability) is a different kind of running. The intensity is ramped up much more. The time is much shorter than an ultra but the average level of discomfort is much higher.<br />
The training requires getting into this uncomfortable zone and, at times, into even more intense, painful zones. My running over the last 4 years has completely avoided this. I've gotten comfortable and, likely, complacent, running on the base I've built up and not pushing anything too hard.<br />
To put it bluntly, I've been afraid of pushing myself this way. I mean actual fear. Running hard and fast hurts in a different way than running slow and long. I've grown comfortable with running slowly for long periods of time. It has become familiar. I was looking for any reason to put this off and not do it. I was afraid.<br />
The time for the first interval arrived. I ramped up the treadmill to the my 10k pace and tried to keep my feet moving fast enough to keep up. I tried to relax and breathe. The seconds seemed to tick by slowly but I was doing it. I watched the time creep by, telling myself I only had 2 minutes to go, 1 minute to go, then it was over. 1 down, 3 to go.<br />
By the time I reached the third and fourth, I would get a minute or two into it and my mind would be screaming out to me to stop, offering a litany of reason why it was ok to quit. I was struggling but I was still moving. I would think to myself, "what will happen if you just keep going?" and I would. I felt like I was balancing on a blade between quitting and continuing on. Finally the end came, as it inevitably does, and I had faced down my fear, at least for today. <br />
For the next 10 weeks I will be facing this fear of being very uncomfortable in a different way. I will be trying to practice what I preach about doing things that scare you. I will do my best to remain consistent and do what the training requires that day. That will mean facing fear and doubt in myself. None of this guarantees success but I think the trying is where personal progress is truly made.Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-32782462211944448022018-02-07T10:03:00.000-05:002018-02-07T10:03:04.705-05:00Arrowhead 2018: Snowy Smoke Kittens and Other Delights<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghi0VEW2UNXSEzCbpaOZdhUyP6AejIiP3diXgXOzpRk4NebPEJId9EOajUeu4a-6zs-U4s4dXhqmxk6Dknfhho4ExEMJi6wGxUE-scARvv0cZHLqpEt3YUmVK0DlIjuQ3TBk-HVBw4S36E/s1600/20180203_072719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghi0VEW2UNXSEzCbpaOZdhUyP6AejIiP3diXgXOzpRk4NebPEJId9EOajUeu4a-6zs-U4s4dXhqmxk6Dknfhho4ExEMJi6wGxUE-scARvv0cZHLqpEt3YUmVK0DlIjuQ3TBk-HVBw4S36E/s320/20180203_072719.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Last year, sitting in the pre race meeting in International Falls, I felt like I didn't belong. This year I felt much more comfortable despite my apprehension about what lay before me. The faces were more familiar. I had come to know many of these people over the year that had elapsed. I was beginning to feel like I was part of the Arrowhead family.<br />
<br />
My finish at the 2017 race showed me that what I thought was impossible, can be possible. It was a very difficult race, especially coming off the Tuscobia 160. Finishing gave me an immense boost of confidence. However, this confidence did not translate into much success last summer. Perhaps it was a fluke. Maybe I just happened to get lucky in a relatively easy year for the race. I needed to prove to myself that this wasn't the case and I got all I could handle. I decided to give the unsupported option a try this year, meaning I could not refill water, get food or go inside for warmth at the checkpoints. This would be an added level of difficulty.<br />
<br />
The all important weather reports leading into the race showed a low of around -10 F at the start which would then trend upward to 20 F the next day. After spending over 20 hours near -20 F at Tuscobia a few weeks ago, this would almost feel balmy. Having the same gear since last year's race gave me assurance that I would not have to worry too much about the weather {foreshadowing!!}<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLDyzaF2K8fGS-LCxJJ7ddZr9S3uMN61KOGhi9rFDz84-s0kI3i2VvyEfFfJNB5EswKn1fkWxfBlhhQuUts4yzASCHyVWzps34mVrKRSY2M9ZH6DnwVBqnVIQEvldPAWAg26YargpSeNT8/s1600/20180129_063533.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLDyzaF2K8fGS-LCxJJ7ddZr9S3uMN61KOGhi9rFDz84-s0kI3i2VvyEfFfJNB5EswKn1fkWxfBlhhQuUts4yzASCHyVWzps34mVrKRSY2M9ZH6DnwVBqnVIQEvldPAWAg26YargpSeNT8/s320/20180129_063533.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I slept somewhat fitfully, having recurring dreams of myself dealing with one problem or another on the course, but still felt good when I rose to put on all my gear. Sometimes, thinking about the fact that I will be living in those clothes for the next couple days puts the event in some perspective. Knowing that I would have to be out there for two days and nights in order to finish can become overwhelming. It often hits me most when putting my shoes on. "When I finally take these off", I say to myself, "my feet will likely not be in great shape."<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRDQ2Q987j4123PvY4SnYblWFXGhXNYJGzSysshyYIaSE3tOx4Ghkhm6vWD8-gTvlSA7eCRzYlx6Zbw8sLQxVDkOnCAYsiJFYi2iunTn4PDJFswsiYWLLWpEnscHjDRoUR4st1RuRaUWcR/s1600/20180129_063547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRDQ2Q987j4123PvY4SnYblWFXGhXNYJGzSysshyYIaSE3tOx4Ghkhm6vWD8-gTvlSA7eCRzYlx6Zbw8sLQxVDkOnCAYsiJFYi2iunTn4PDJFswsiYWLLWpEnscHjDRoUR4st1RuRaUWcR/s320/20180129_063547.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before. A little terrified. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I checked in at the start and then had a series of hugs, handshakes and words of encouragement with my fellow racers. I tried to relax and get in the proper mindset. The fireworks went off and the waves of bikes and then skiers left before those of us on foot set off. I tried to walk quickly to get warm.<br />
<br />
The first couple miles, similar to Tuscobia, had me waiting for my feet to warm up. Once they do get up to temperature I never seem to have any issues. I was wearing a new pair of gloves since I somehow lost a mitten at Tuscobia. I tend to believe mittens are better for keeping the fingers warm since they are bundled together and not seperated as in gloves. Early on the new gloves appeared to be working well.<br />
<br />
The sun rose shortly after the start, revealing an overcast sky and some very light snow. The trail was hard and fairly smooth, making the footing nearly perfect. The early hours were spent with the usual chatting with other racers and moving along happily with no worries. However, for whatever reason I was already yawning and feeling a little sleepy 3 or 4 hours in. This was not a good sign but I would just have to deal it as it came. I was also struggling to find a good temperature balance. I was constantly adjusting jacket zippers up and down. I would pull a bluff over my cold face only to feel like I was being smothered, so I would pull it back down. This constant battle would be slightly aggrevating but it also gave me something to do instead of think about how much futher I had to go.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje2LX4frbImXrpy-W4Xz5R87RqpvfyHOKQvwMcAwBPFfDrDYpyTmZayoBPsMOM96iJIDTO4EhhSJieaXVTufCLk6t433oHRQwlj_NSDHj1yolJvui4YExCOhK4TqQBX3woFFWd75WYPT9R/s1600/470-D7K_8102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="926" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje2LX4frbImXrpy-W4Xz5R87RqpvfyHOKQvwMcAwBPFfDrDYpyTmZayoBPsMOM96iJIDTO4EhhSJieaXVTufCLk6t433oHRQwlj_NSDHj1yolJvui4YExCOhK4TqQBX3woFFWd75WYPT9R/s320/470-D7K_8102.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early on with fellow Hrimthur Randy<br />
credit: Burgess Eberhardt</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As I approached the first checkpoint (Gateway Gas Station/Store) at 36 miles, I tried to decide what I would do there, if anything. I still had plenty of water but thought maybe it would be a good time for a hot meal since I couldn't go inside to warm up. I reached the checkpoint nearly half an hour sooner than last year, checked in and immediately headed back out on the trail to find a good place to my stove out and melt some snow to cook a freeze-dried meal. The stove lit reluctantly as I scrambled to do so without too much exposure of my hands to the cold. The flame was very low and eventually quit. I tried a couple more times to get it going but I ended up deciding I was wasting time with a stove that was not going to work at these temperatures. I was a little dejected by this but I hoped that with the warm up that was forecast, that I would be able to get things going and keep my unsupported status.<br />
<br />
The next section from Gateway to MelGeorge Resort is around 34 miles. The previous section is basically flat the whole way, not a single hill to climb or descend. The hills begin to appear here. For me this stretch has always happened directly between sundown and sunrise. I probably wouldn't even recognize it in the daylight. The sky had cleared and a nearly full moon allowed me to go for a good amount of time with turning the headlamp on.<br />
<br />
Shortly into this section, probably only 7 or 8 PM, I was struggling to stay awake. My eyelids became very heavy and I would find myself drifting from side to side, held up only by my treking poles. I would stop to eat or drink some water in an effort to wake myself up. This happening so early on the first night was not a good sign. Based on previous experience I knew if I fought and got through to the sunrise, I would feel better, at least for a bit. Easy to say but when you have 11 hours of hills, cold and darkness ahead of you, the feeling of helplessness looms large.<br />
<br />
The hours and the hills passed by slowly. I began to struggle to stay warm. I would try to speed up but this helped little. I bundled up and put on as much clothing as I had with me. At a road crossing about half way through this section, I met Todd, the man with the snowmobile who will save your ass if things get real bad. Talking with him, I joked that I thought it was supposed to start warming up. "Yeah", he said, "it's -25 right now but in an hour or two it will start going up a degree an hour." This explained why with every piece of clothing I had on that I could not warm up. I started to have thoughts about whether or not I would realize I was freezing to death.<br />
<br />
I was moving well despite the cold and fatigue, arriving at Elephant Lake an hour earlier than last year and before dawn. In those last couple of hours I had made a decision about my unsupported status. Since my stove refused to work it was probably prudent to be safe and get water at the next checkpoint. Also, spending several hours thinking about the grilled cheese and warm beds at MelGeorge was too much to resist.<br />
<br />
The lake crossing felt shorter this year, as I knew what to expect. I followed a red blinking light moving far off in front of me and in less than 20 minutes, pulled my sled up in front of the checkpoint cabin.<br />
<br />
Inside the cabin is chaos but oh so warm. There is gear scattered in every open space. I found an open chair, stripped off layers and piled them up in front of me, while volunteers kept bringing me warm food. The grilled cheese was excellent as always. 2 or 3 of these, a bowl of soup and a couple cookies later I moved upstairs to find a place to lie down. I found a spot on a queen bed where another racer was already sleeping on the other half. I'm not one to just sleep in a bed with a strange man but I was exhausted. Still don't know who it was.<br />
<br />
After tossing and turning for 15 minutes trying to make the cramping stop, I fell asleep for a good 45 minutes. I looked at the time and tried get myself moving to get out of the cabin before I became too comfortable. Some of my gear was still a little damp but dry enough. I mechanically put piece after piece back into place. I felt like I was stretching the process out in order to avoid going back outside, but then the big parka was on and it was decision time. I was little surprised at the resolve I had to go back out but then it had to be forceful or I never would have stepped back out. The cold quickly swarms over you as you turn your back on all those warm friendly faces inside.<br />
<br />
Back in my sled harness I started the 40+ mile trek to the Surly checkpoint. It was 9 AM and the forecast snow had started to fall. Fall may not be the right word. It flew perpendicular to the ground due to a strong wind, directly into my face, stinging my cheeks and eyes. The firm footing of the previous day was replaced by a layer of loose, powdery snow.<br />
<br />
Overnight there had been a few of the typical hallucinations due to fatigue and the shadows created by the moon and headlamp. Now, going into the second day, they really started to kick in. Gazing down wearily at the path ahead of me, I would become transfixed by the footsteps of runners in front of me. The foot impression in the snow became a bowl of swirling white smoke. I then began to see the faces and paws of equally white snow kittens climbing out of the smoke bowls. This was getting interesting.<br />
<br />
Miles crept by and I was reminded of my thoughts last year when I wondered where all these legendary hills were. They did come and were not quite as bad as I remember. They were still long and relentless but I just tried to avoid negative thoughts, put my head down and keep climbing until there no climbing left to do, repeat. Over and over.<br />
<br />
Eventually the course levels out and I knew I was getting close to the final checkpoint. I kept expecting it around every turn but I just kept walking. I began worrying I had missed a turn. Time kept ticking on but after nearly hour over my calculated arrival, the familiar teepee came into view. I stepped inside and tried warming up with a backpacking meal. I sat for nearly an hour with my shoes and socks off and set next to the wood stove in an attempt to dry them out.<br />
<br />
The combination of sweating during the climbs and the temperature finally rising had started to get my gear a little damp. At this point last year my feet were blistered and pickled pretty bad but were only just beginning to get uncomfortable here. At least I seemed to have figured that puzzle out.<br />
<br />
Leaving Surly was not so hard as it meant that I was in the home stretch with a short flat section of only 23 miles. Not even a marathon. Of course it starts off with the longest, steepest climb of the whole race. What comes next though is what makes this climb worth every second. The sled ride down Wakemup Hill. This is longest and fastest ride down. Just like last year, I reached a speed that made me rather uncomfortable but I appreciated the fact that I was covering distance with little to no effort.<br />
<br />
The remainder of the course is basically dead flat with long straight stretches. By now the sun had risen on me for the third time and I just kept my head down, chipping away step by step. I also needed to keep my head down to maintain some sense of reality. Whenever I looked ahead, I would see people, houses, parking lots full of vehicles through the trees, only to find out on arriving that they weren't really there. Nothing I saw could be trusted to be real.<br />
<br />
I'd like to say this section went by quickly, and compared to others it did, but it was still a good 8 to 9 hours of struggle. The turn taking me off the Arrowhead trail signaled that I only had 2 miles to go. It was nearly over. I could feel the emotions rising and then falling, being to tired to sustain any constant thought. The finish line that I felt at times would never come, appeared and I had repeated the thing I had once thought I could never do.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3TE9UrP_dI1jce8piJzIfsSeAVO-7xTz-PDU521UlzEtBQHrBcsmNzUI7FS46LCQYdnk6VtiZXn0q6zLG_9XoRDY_R7aQlhLle_x1UD50SMkhcOosplSV9uOgAZXKqW6hNVpi77c-ge_/s1600/20180131_145341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3TE9UrP_dI1jce8piJzIfsSeAVO-7xTz-PDU521UlzEtBQHrBcsmNzUI7FS46LCQYdnk6VtiZXn0q6zLG_9XoRDY_R7aQlhLle_x1UD50SMkhcOosplSV9uOgAZXKqW6hNVpi77c-ge_/s320/20180131_145341.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After. A little sleepy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Often during the later stages I would think about what I was doing and why I was doing it. I felt at times like I was carrying a huge black demon on my back. A demon personifying all my failures and insecurities, telling me I'm wasting my time and effort and weighing me down. Overcoming and finishing doesn't solve any of life's problems. What it does is make facing that demon bearable. It proves that even when things are difficult, patience and determination are what I need most often.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHgdusCLRXxgWnlOMi34pOb5FoGmd6ouA-IxiuN478hlXqA-AE01nKZEmOuSie3WRJA8qVz7S5pBrppkuLp03Cx7ZkcS7YGehM-JpHKmC0Tt6T7Z8Y-4utDwElz4Q4YAj_gOPPr9VfQAJD/s1600/20180201_113338.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHgdusCLRXxgWnlOMi34pOb5FoGmd6ouA-IxiuN478hlXqA-AE01nKZEmOuSie3WRJA8qVz7S5pBrppkuLp03Cx7ZkcS7YGehM-JpHKmC0Tt6T7Z8Y-4utDwElz4Q4YAj_gOPPr9VfQAJD/s320/20180201_113338.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hotel room aftermath</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Here's the thing about a race like Arrowhead. It draws a very unique and special group of people. They are humble, kind, generous and friendly but also some of the toughest people on the planet. The shared experience of suffering brings them together. I just wrote a bunch of words about this race but unless you have been there and done it, words can never fully capture what one of these events is truly all about. Before and after the race, we tell our stories to each other and we understand beyond words. We learn from each other and are inspried by each other. I do the best I can for myself but also to honor what they do as well.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgHJAbGD475ZRs_pbLFS1xhqG2VCfvHyPmlOogCoGfUsdVSXT58O-WZg2AcqE0kmsiF1IQ3zz_Wol8NII_gUX_MfQ_PXxkSipk981fZ7_5oRg3BqgapPVQRs8GsRCCvIAwh58MAy0DoTGJ/s1600/20180131_162155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgHJAbGD475ZRs_pbLFS1xhqG2VCfvHyPmlOogCoGfUsdVSXT58O-WZg2AcqE0kmsiF1IQ3zz_Wol8NII_gUX_MfQ_PXxkSipk981fZ7_5oRg3BqgapPVQRs8GsRCCvIAwh58MAy0DoTGJ/s320/20180131_162155.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
There were several first time finishers and many who have multiple finishes. There were those that didn't make it all the way for one reason or another, but had the courage to give it the best effort that day would allow. There was Kari and Kate, who started at the finish line the Thursday before the race, did the whole course, turned around and started with the rest of us, accomplishing the mind boggling Double Arrowhead (<a href="http://m.startribune.com/twin-cities-ultramarathoners-will-race-extreme-arrowhead-twice/471130753/">Article</a>). Every single person involved has an amazing story and I will always do my best to be back.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqYpw9daAbgEg__1Egbhxu5jrvpNbfBVZNe1Qe13C4PRPONW5Dm2QjKUQl6lZVh-H_3dgTxzpFPgxZ2t5GyCEdGa8klNP8ObVkn5VtHIWRRxMJa1wulHmdgiuTo9MF9ih2jgsmxn7mfBDp/s1600/20180201_171510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqYpw9daAbgEg__1Egbhxu5jrvpNbfBVZNe1Qe13C4PRPONW5Dm2QjKUQl6lZVh-H_3dgTxzpFPgxZ2t5GyCEdGa8klNP8ObVkn5VtHIWRRxMJa1wulHmdgiuTo9MF9ih2jgsmxn7mfBDp/s320/20180201_171510.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post Arrowhead tradition: A Grain Belt or two</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-19394353483293371622018-01-26T07:21:00.003-05:002018-01-26T07:21:54.945-05:00Return to the Wild<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img src="https://scontent-ort2-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-1/c0.1.135.135/38874_140879829273198_7250251_n.jpg?oh=02c2011c6105e11626e64c5d9f144586&oe=5AF1C53B" /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Hard to believe it was only a year ago that I was taking part in the iconic Arrowhead 135. I still can't believe I actually finished it. My race report last year covers all that but a year later I feel I have yet to fully grasp all that happened. Now the time has come to return to northern Minnesota. Finishing once could have been a fluke so doing it again will be a big test.<br />
<br />
I've spent the month after Tuscobia running a little bit. My longest run was 15 miles at a local "fat ass" event. I've done a few runs on the treadmill at the gym. It has been a bit of a struggle to get myself to get going but once I start running I feel good. The main problem now is I'm feeling bored and impatient. I want to get to the meat of the training for the spring and summer races and this small window between races does not allow for doing too much without risking injury or being fatigued at Arrowhead. And speaking of meat, I have most definitely been eating way too much in the interim. My justification is that I am putting on an insulating layer. Hey, it worked last year. Luckily my bathroom scale died and I haven't had to deal with it. Ignorance really is bliss but also a little chubby.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinde_g7shYXzLhhPzvkvaH2eH5RWMfuCjK4GhRr1md9iBYAQzcjckZFL-dJ1ChCH5uzEeig2Rs9SJvSuOtVvsQ-z0ANvMikWguxD_stqXUCPnDrp8TEWQcaCm_dfamZYkVBaQ-ZxhlamUU/s1600/16472891_10154922913348516_7376678899165482872_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="714" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinde_g7shYXzLhhPzvkvaH2eH5RWMfuCjK4GhRr1md9iBYAQzcjckZFL-dJ1ChCH5uzEeig2Rs9SJvSuOtVvsQ-z0ANvMikWguxD_stqXUCPnDrp8TEWQcaCm_dfamZYkVBaQ-ZxhlamUU/s320/16472891_10154922913348516_7376678899165482872_n.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where I want to be again</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I don't have much more to say about Arrowhead that I haven't said previously (see the race report from last year). I'm very confident I can finish. It will be extremely difficult, mostly mentally. I have the advantage of knowing I have done it before and I am fully capable of doing it again. I will just have to keep telling myself that over and over again. The Tuscobia 80 was very hard and a very good reminder of the focus and determination these races require.<br />
The weather looks like it won't be too extreme, with temperatures expected to range from around -10 at the start to 25 degrees towards the end. There may be some snow on the 2nd night that could affect footing and slow things down. Worrying about it won't change it so I will just deal with whatever happens.<br />
This year I am going to give the unsupported option a try. This means I will not be allowed any food, water or aid at the 3 checkpoints. I will have to carry all my food and melt snow for water refills. I will not be allowed to go inside and warm up. It adds a bit of difficulty and will likely take longer. This should all be good practice for future winter races I'd like to try.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="No automatic alt text available." height="356" src="https://scontent-ort2-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/19642308_1922069841154179_3513091206899931701_n.jpg?oh=4079c6a00162ef1461dd375eb3769600&oe=5B20425A" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm after the one in the middle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As always, the best part of these winter races will be getting to see the small winter ultra community. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone, telling stories, sharing some miles out there and giving big hugs after finishing. It's a beautiful thing we got going. See you in International Falls!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You can follow the race live beginning Monday Jan. 29 here: <a href="http://trackleaders.com/arrowhead18">http://trackleaders.com/arrowhead18</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-87643369482883643212018-01-08T13:02:00.002-05:002018-01-08T13:02:59.045-05:00Cold Lessons<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnOGT9gODjgoWZIh-KqsKiPVwODPl3ikuLQpeoFUWZKBg5kc6vDV3gjuLGD-wxSKwauVX1MDLJ6wW2yxLRKSwwG80ihQLmlNEhRIb6yaPvasbSI84ecCsHgknQgIVoyw3VZYzoFxsiYjSI/s1600/26165747_10155907733208516_7305883151968257440_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnOGT9gODjgoWZIh-KqsKiPVwODPl3ikuLQpeoFUWZKBg5kc6vDV3gjuLGD-wxSKwauVX1MDLJ6wW2yxLRKSwwG80ihQLmlNEhRIb6yaPvasbSI84ecCsHgknQgIVoyw3VZYzoFxsiYjSI/s320/26165747_10155907733208516_7305883151968257440_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Minutes before the start</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
As I sat waiting to start Tuscobia for the second time in 2017, I began to worry that I had not been taking it seriously enough. Nearly 12 months ago I had run the Tuscobia 160 and it changed my life. It may have been the hardest thing I have ever done. 160 miles on foot in temperatures around -20 F. A year later I am still trying to comprehend how I did it but also why I did it. In order to complete one of these events, being physically and mental fit helps, but most importantly, there needs to be a reason that drives you to the finish. I knew I didn't have a good enough reason to get me through another 160 miles so I decided to "only" do the 80 mile version this time around. The worry I was experiencing prior to the start was the realization that even though I was doing much less this time, it was still going to be very, very hard.<br />
The shorter version of Tuscobia begins the day after the full version, at the turn around point in Park Falls, Wisconsin. Starting at this time would allow me to see some of the course in the daylight that I had only traversed in the night each previous attempt. The morning was bright, clear and ridiculously cold. The starting temperature was around -15 F. This did not worry me too much since I used the exact same gear last year and I survived. However, I began to worry in the first couple of miles when my feet felt very cold. I then recalled that this happens every time and forgot about them. Sure enough, within the first hour my feet felt nice and warm.<br />
The days leading up to the race I had not been feeling 100%. For several days I had been experiencing what could politely be called an intestinal issue. This is not ideal going into a 80 mile race where you are bundled up in many layers of clothing. Luckily, it never turned out to be a problem. I was able to eat and drink without ill effects.<br />
The 35 miles to the only checkpoint on the course at Ojibwa were fairly easy. I was moving along consistently, occasionally leap frogging other runners, but mostly alone. I made a conscious effort to take in the scenery and enjoy my time outside. When the flags indicating the turn off for the checkpoint appeared, I was surprised I was there already. Everything was going well. I looked forward to taking a quick break to sit and warm up.<br />
The check point was much warmer and more organized than in the past. I took a few minutes trying to thaw my face cover off my beard. The condensation from my breath had frozen into a solid block near my chin making it impossible to remove the cloth cover. I ate and refilled my water. I felt good and was eager to get back out on the trail and to not spend too much time here. One of the hardest part of Tuscobia is leaving the Ojibwa checkpoint. It was made even harder this year since there were so many people in the cabin that I knew from previous races. The winter ultra community is small and close.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYEx93gNWS8STR_l4uNWqg10eD3uPlZAr_rzGAxxyHhj_Nf0-5-v82C0lYl3XJNxSgT5iTpq9HQsrDbUMqmNpcAoUbHOKAKcBsos0Ste-9mmlWVMePglhSWUKER2ayyRlvJfVqBXLJDmu/s1600/26230043_10155931570408516_3913316625700598784_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="496" data-original-width="496" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYEx93gNWS8STR_l4uNWqg10eD3uPlZAr_rzGAxxyHhj_Nf0-5-v82C0lYl3XJNxSgT5iTpq9HQsrDbUMqmNpcAoUbHOKAKcBsos0Ste-9mmlWVMePglhSWUKER2ayyRlvJfVqBXLJDmu/s320/26230043_10155931570408516_3913316625700598784_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeling good at Ojibwa<br />
photo credit: John Taylor</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I was in and out of the checkpoint in less than half an hour. Back out into the cold night, the difficult part would now begin. I left Ojibwa at 9 PM. The night was clear and brightly lit be the nearly full moon. The moonlight is made even brighter by reflecting off the snow covered landscape. It is bright enough to travel without turning on your headlamp. It is an experience that I often think about on a random day in July. I long to be in that place, out in the middle of a northern forest, on a cold, moonlit night, alone, with only what I can carry and pull on a sled, miles from anywhere. It produces an intense feeling of freedom and tranquility. There is only the moment. The outside world is so far away that none of it matters. For the hours or days that I'm out there, nothing else is of consequence. I can exist without distraction, focused only on the task in front of me.<br />
I had 10 more hours of night to get through and 45 miles to the finish. It was not too long before my old friend, the Sleep Monster appeared. I had several cans of Starbucks shots I had warmed by the fire at the checkpoint. I opened the first shortly after leaving and discovered, not unexpectedly, that it was completely frozen. No caffeine for me. I walked on for a while before coming up with the brilliant idea to put a can under my arm to try to thaw it. I have learned that decision making in winter ultras can be slightly impaired and slow. After 20 minutes or so, I had sufficiently melted my frozen coffee and drank it down. Almost immediately I felt awake and alert. This was short lived. Within an hour I was drifting from side to side and struggling to keep my eyes open. I repeated the thawing technique but this time I opened the can too soon and was only able to extract about half the contents. I struggled to keep moving.<br />
The night dragged on and on. I desperately wanted to lay down but didn't want to make the effort to get my sleeping bag out, so I kept moving. I kept an eye out for promising places to bivy but would just move on when I spotted one. I knew I would feel much better when the sun came up so I needed to just move forward.<br />
As dawn approached, I began to feel really cold for the first time. I tried moving faster but my mind and body were not agreeing. A bit of doubt and worry entered my mind at this point. I just kept moving as I had learned to do before.<br />
I reached the town of Birchwood shortly after the sun rose. This is the last town before an approximately 17 mile stretch to the finish. I stopped at large gas station where several other runners were resting. I put down a breakfast burrito, a donut and hot cup of coffee. I wanted to stay but I also just wanted to be finished so I gathered myself and stepped back out into the cold morning.<br />
This final 17 mile stretch was much more of a struggle than I expected. My legs were aching. My feet, which had been in very good shape, began to develop blisters. I calculated the time left to finish. 5 hours. 4 hours 3 hours. Each time I did, it felt unbearable to continue that much longer, yet I would just keep the feet moving. Time slows down. The pain becomes all consuming.<br />
I finally reached the turn off the Tuscobia trail to the 4 mile straight stretch into Rice Lake and the finish. I passed the scene of the toast hallucination. All appeared different in the daylight. This stretch was long but not nearly as bad a last year. I rolled into the finish, ending a nearly 6 month drought of ultra finishes.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGlQeo65gPdUQyKxQ1VWV0B43k64c2wIS7sTcdUrzl-liRAN4tGLRm16-7ll9LpfjtM0u48SsIQMA02MyvHYGGD7WbUbVGeUdVHiVBJAl0kAK5ibPNM4z1jfxjnNgha1KfKoFjRWhaHci/s1600/26165392_10213974564110725_3330129980772358013_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGlQeo65gPdUQyKxQ1VWV0B43k64c2wIS7sTcdUrzl-liRAN4tGLRm16-7ll9LpfjtM0u48SsIQMA02MyvHYGGD7WbUbVGeUdVHiVBJAl0kAK5ibPNM4z1jfxjnNgha1KfKoFjRWhaHci/s320/26165392_10213974564110725_3330129980772358013_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished!!!<br />
photo credit: Scott Kummer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I shouldn't have been surprised with how I felt after finishing 80 miles because I felt nearly exactly as I did the previous 2 years. I couldn't imagine turning around and doing it again but that is what I did last year. It is a reminder that even when I feel like there is no way I can continue, I still have plenty left in the tank.<br />
<div>
I stepped inside to warm up and decompress. After several pieces of pizza and some beer, I laid down to wait out the inevitable cramping that was setting in. Finishers would come inside and we all would clap. The race had taken quite a toll as the finish rate was one of the lowest across all the race versions.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimxo-3njR46Gms3o-WQax49EgroKrFuAI2p0avf_F5T0-6fixYZqvyM3FXAjNHJG70kdUMVS7aWosER5cZ3_tmNNEfwXq-46oLWMBxfAdKma6eCRoqNWhoSuv7-JtR-IN9tlR9ZyNwmILK/s1600/26165639_10155911487008516_7633529980887091474_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimxo-3njR46Gms3o-WQax49EgroKrFuAI2p0avf_F5T0-6fixYZqvyM3FXAjNHJG70kdUMVS7aWosER5cZ3_tmNNEfwXq-46oLWMBxfAdKma6eCRoqNWhoSuv7-JtR-IN9tlR9ZyNwmILK/s320/26165639_10155911487008516_7633529980887091474_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After. Not as bad as last year. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This was a good start to the new race season. I got the DNF monkey off my back, at least temporarily. Arrowhead is next, which is 55 miles longer, more remote and with many hills. My confidence was not improved by this latest outing but I always learn so I should be fine.<br />
<br />
Tuscobia has become one of my favorite races to attend. I have gotten to know so many inspiring, positive people. Paul Schlagel, who completed the Hrimthurs last year, won the 160 Run. I was hearing about his progress throughout the day and was so happy for him. His wife, Julie, who had never run a race over a half marathon, finished the 80 mile on foot. I had trouble keeping up with here for the first 35 miles. Hrimthur Scott Kummer had to drop due to having a bad cold but still battled to get to Ojibwa. I passed Hrimthur Kari and Erik, who I finished Actif with last year, early in my race, as they were approaching Park Falls. Unfortunately they had to drop there but 80 miles in those conditions is nothing to discount. I was also given a boost by seeing Hrimthur Randy and John Taylor at Ojibwa, where they were selflessly volunteering. Bridget Durocher, who I met during the Midwest Slam in 2016, was the only female to finish the 160. An amazing performance. All these folks and everyone else I encountered before, during and after the race inspire me so much. Each one has an amazing story and I'm honored to share the trail with every one of them. Finally, Chris and Helen Scotch, the race directors, put on a fantastic race. They genuinely care for every participant and do great work providing an unforgettable experience.<br />
A small step on the way to completing my goals for this year is done. I've got some hard work ahead but it is all worth it.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<br /></div>
Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-32392170921862494102017-12-28T09:17:00.001-05:002017-12-28T09:17:48.050-05:00Return to the Scene of the ToastThe fact the first race of my 2018 running season actually occurs in December of 2017 means nothing to me. I haven't raced since September and what I did then was more trying to survive rather than race. I've been over my disappointments from last year numerous times and I will try not to go too much into that again. It is difficult for me to move on from that and the best way to do that is to just focus on the next race. That race will be the Tuscobia 80 mile.<br />
Last year at Tuscobia I completed the 160 mile version on foot after failing to do so the year before. The experience could be described as near to a religious, spiritual experience as I have ever had. It was frightening, liberating, and perhaps even life changing. I don't think any of this is hyperbole. My perception of myself and life in general has been different since spending those 63 hours and change out in sub zero temperatures, mostly alone. There were periods where deja vu left me very confused yet comforted. I had moments were I felt completely separated from my physical body. I had revelations about what it took to move myself 160 miles across space and time. My whole perception of reality was challenged. It was amazing. I wanted to go back but I decided to do the 80 miles as I am not sure I am ready to experience all these things again just yet.<br />
I felt like maybe I was afraid of trying the 160 again, since that was a word I used when thinking about it. Maybe it is more that I gained respect for it after finishing it in the second attempt. I respect it enough to know that I shouldn't try it at a time when I don't have the will to give the necessary effort to finish again. At some point, however, I will definitely try again.<br />
Since taking a few weeks off after St. Pat's I have been back to regular running. As a bonus I have been very consistent about going to the gym and working on overall and core strength. It has helped me feel much better. The running mileage has slowly built up and doing long runs of 20 miles or more are not miserable struggles that they were over the summer. The training groove is back and I feel good about it.<br />
The days leading up to Tuscobia have been getting colder and colder. It looks like it won't be as cold as last time but it will still be below 0 F for much of the race. I've not worried about it too much. I know the gear I have will get me through these temperatures without an issue. I have experience and confidence on my side. I also know that I only have to get through one night instead of two and into a third. Hopefully I'm not taking it too lightly. It is strange how the perspective has changed.<br />
So this post will be a short one as I still have to pack up my gear. Results and recap next time.<br />
Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-25651474505847137112017-12-04T08:41:00.000-05:002017-12-04T08:41:03.646-05:002017: Up and Down <br />
<br />
<b>2017:</b><br />
<br />
This year began with very high hopes and lofty goals. If you've been following along then you know how it went. I put together an ambitious schedule hoping for the best. There were successes, failures, mistakes, triumphs, huge disappointments and lessons learned. Mostly there were amazing people and unforgettable experiences.<br />
<br />
A return to Tuscobia started the year. I had failed to finish there the year before but felt I had learned what it takes to complete the full 160 miles. I somehow did it and had the most intense spiritual (for lack of a better term) experience in the final few miles.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoAKcUUh_W0zX3-jKnFTciCsciOInwuWKGCg0BwWLloPn2umw-XreNA9UkDs2Q6E4X3PGjYUWI1WIAoWndzP7tecithWv73fxBbkJEXT_EL9ahmOCR3eSYtNGzI6vuGR1bSofFKgjSpoUB/s1600/Screenshot+%25284%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="651" data-original-width="1271" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoAKcUUh_W0zX3-jKnFTciCsciOInwuWKGCg0BwWLloPn2umw-XreNA9UkDs2Q6E4X3PGjYUWI1WIAoWndzP7tecithWv73fxBbkJEXT_EL9ahmOCR3eSYtNGzI6vuGR1bSofFKgjSpoUB/s320/Screenshot+%25284%2529.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Less than three weeks later I was facing the Arrowhead monster. Much more remote and tougher terrain than Tuscobia, I was more afraid of this race than any other I had done. Again, I finished and somehow in better shape than Tuscobia. I was on a high. I felt like I could do anything.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9EFocSWubqAIpfe-9BBaWYBaE_x0fsflZsHAWh6GabqJGLsE8BTkK4QLzJX8_YF9xbuQn_RykTKr0n8UlhlkC1KD3ECJhq4OuRqLRXqeB5wSkDqPJrLk5WzDM-5vyK5uQbMO98v4d1upb/s1600/20170130_102002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9EFocSWubqAIpfe-9BBaWYBaE_x0fsflZsHAWh6GabqJGLsE8BTkK4QLzJX8_YF9xbuQn_RykTKr0n8UlhlkC1KD3ECJhq4OuRqLRXqeB5wSkDqPJrLk5WzDM-5vyK5uQbMO98v4d1upb/s320/20170130_102002.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Actif Epica is where I was finally broken and finished only through sheer will and the support of my fellow Hrimthurs. The trail conditions were difficult and the toll of the two previous races left nothing in the tank.<br />
<br />
<br />
That tank remained close to empty for the remainder of the year unfortunately. I had the Grand Slam approaching and 4 months to prepare. What I ultimately needed was a break but I tried to get back into training for Western States. The training I did do was inadequate. Physically I felt slow and sluggish. Mentally I had no ability to push myself to even run a 2 or 3 miles at times. This is no way to prepare for a series of 4 premier 100 mile races. My quest for the Grand Slam ended quickly when I missed the cutoff at Western States mile 62 by 5 minutes.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyjklhQHe0dhy3Y4BFVrqSWK6PWmciixWtWtizFlfbNQQcBvhjwyIXkIgBXNkmgTAhGcXmYm0d0Z4K-AsbSZr5-DKRTt4eWDjtl1DW8QDNvJ0ZNIrucfqe9r8Vue2LalW8sWA9FMF_XID/s1600/19397162_10155370718248516_4503769276377760641_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="668" data-original-width="661" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyjklhQHe0dhy3Y4BFVrqSWK6PWmciixWtWtizFlfbNQQcBvhjwyIXkIgBXNkmgTAhGcXmYm0d0Z4K-AsbSZr5-DKRTt4eWDjtl1DW8QDNvJ0ZNIrucfqe9r8Vue2LalW8sWA9FMF_XID/s320/19397162_10155370718248516_4503769276377760641_n.jpg" width="316" /></a></div>
<br />
At Vermont I was able to rally a bit and force myself to finish the race though I hated nearly every minute of it. With little motivation I still decided to carry on with the series but missed a cutoff at Leadville and straight up quit at Wasatch.<br />
There was plenty of disappointment about failing at these races. I do regret missing my chance at the Grand Slam, combine that with the Order of Hrimthurs and do something remarkable. However, I realize that it really doesn't matter. My goals only matter to me and most people are focused on their lives. Whether I accomplish some arbitrary goal doesn't affect anyone else's life. I will look for new challenges and maybe someday try all this again. Maybe not. Either way, I think the point of all this is to line up and do the best I can each day, accept the results, and try to learn and appreciate the moments.<br />
<br />
<b>2018:</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
It is that time of year in the ultrarunning world when the final few races take place and we all start filling our calendars with events for the next year. The lotteries for Western States and Hardrock are over. After the last two years and the lackluster results of late, I decided to cut back on races next year. Then the silly season comes upon us. I add a race here and another there and boom. I have quite the schedule again. The list of races I want to run one day keeps growing and new ones appear every year. Friends run them, talk about them and then I want to try them. Someone even mentions a race and I am looking up all the info online and suddenly I want to run that one too.<br />
So to cut the crap and get to the list, here it is:<br />
<br />
December 29, 2017 Tuscobia 80 Rice Lake, Wisconsin<br />
January 29 Arrowhead 135 International Falls, Minnesota<br />
April 22 Glass City Marathon Toledo Ohio<br />
May 5 Grayson Highlands 50K Mouth of Wilson, Virginia<br />
July 6 Ronda Del Cims Ordino, Andorra<br />
August 10 Bigfoot 200 Mount Saint Helens, Washington<br />
September 28 Yeti 100 Abingdon, Virginia<br />
<br />
<br />
First, I know Tuscobia is technically this year but it is close enough. I'm "only" doing the 80 mile version this time which which will likely mean less hallucinations. I'm mentally not ready to go the full distance there again. It was brutal last year and I'm afraid of going to that mental/emotional place again so soon.<br />
I was lucky enough to be allowed back to race at Arrowhead again and I'm really looking forward to it. I am going to attempt the unsupported option this year, meaning I get no aid, no entry inside at checkpoints to warm up, and all food and water has to carried. The post race buffet at the casino will be even sweeter.<br />
The Glass City Marathon will by my first road marathon in over 3 years. I've got the crazy idea to try to qualify for Boston now that I have moved to a slightly easier age category. It will still mean going 20 minutes faster than my PR which will require some real running training instead of piling junk miles up.<br />
Grayson Highlands has been quietly sitting on my to do list for some time. I finally have a space in my schedule to fit it in. There are a couple reasons I have want to do it. One, the race director also puts on the Georgia Death Race, which I loved. The most important reason, however, wild mini ponies!!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/d0e0c3_3fd41c39f2834bcc880ec729e828a7f9.jpg/v1/fill/w_545,h_409,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01/d0e0c3_3fd41c39f2834bcc880ec729e828a7f9.webp" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grayson Highlands Mini Ponies<br />photo credit: runbum tours</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Ronda del cims? What language is that? Where is it? The language is Catalan and the place is the Principality of Andorra, wedged in in the Pyrenees Mountains between Spain and France. It is a 100+ mile race that loops around the entire country and has over 40,000 feet of climbing and just as much descent. It is a Hardrock qualifier and looks amazing from the videos and pictures. I blame Scott from Ten Junk Miles Podcast for this one.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/WeHs_HZtaJw/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/WeHs_HZtaJw?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />
The Bigfoot 200 mile in August is my main goal race of the year. I have become more and more interested in these 200 milers since they popped up a few years ago. Finishing Tuscobia and Arrowhead last year made it seem more attainable. Also, seeing a few running friends do them made me want to join in the fun.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/XLNYRU8MgCw/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XLNYRU8MgCw?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
Finally, I was drawn to the Yeti 100 after meeting the RD, Jason, at Leadville and then seeing the design for the sub 24 hour buckle. It is a chance for a fast 100 miler and a perfect way to end the season.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gA3ZczKUFz0whUzuF738z07QBoXSY03JGxaNt84sPY44zFTu2L6DseHvypEB17ResKBybqFw4Y1b-bYDez5wHsmxlrBgGQ7yXxlWo1pk9o-be7vVVMBDk5UzBcv3ynlP_NLC_xFVIjEd/s1600/DLz1i05UIAAnWWW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1108" data-original-width="1200" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gA3ZczKUFz0whUzuF738z07QBoXSY03JGxaNt84sPY44zFTu2L6DseHvypEB17ResKBybqFw4Y1b-bYDez5wHsmxlrBgGQ7yXxlWo1pk9o-be7vVVMBDk5UzBcv3ynlP_NLC_xFVIjEd/s320/DLz1i05UIAAnWWW.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How can you not want this? </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I'm sure there may be a random race or two mixed in there somewhere. I'm still trying to not overdo it. I'm positive I will be back at St. Pat's 24 Hour in October but that is strictly for fun, food and people. It is all approching very quickly and I look forward to seeing how it all turns out. I'd love to hear what you all are doing!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-81323258850673863092017-10-26T09:16:00.001-04:002017-10-26T09:16:04.849-04:00Recovery, Recharging & the St. Pat's 24 Hour<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyzcg6_SWy20CkmPTAD5w6PqH4S2PxyaJ-AQYY8bSoFX4Scr63P9Il7u3gZipJ0TXTQ4JV18_7pa_SOu2Zn7wKH8mE_YnJwy9obpozpRHyLf5WTHQpvfuMipbPjF1RhWV0yziUhabb5ocb/s1600/14650253_10154562684508516_57871089189948538_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyzcg6_SWy20CkmPTAD5w6PqH4S2PxyaJ-AQYY8bSoFX4Scr63P9Il7u3gZipJ0TXTQ4JV18_7pa_SOu2Zn7wKH8mE_YnJwy9obpozpRHyLf5WTHQpvfuMipbPjF1RhWV0yziUhabb5ocb/s320/14650253_10154562684508516_57871089189948538_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
After a pitiful attempt at the Wasatch 100, I took the remainder of September off from running. Running was not fun or enjoyable. It was a chore I felt I was forcing myself to do. The break was a long time coming. The hope was to step away briefly and then return to running with renewed focus and energy.<br />
I wasn't idle during that time though. I returned to the gym to work on the strength that had been lost over the past two years of running. Trying to climb the mountains had exposed a huge weakness. Lifting weights again for the first time in a while was hard but fun. It is a very different kind of hard then running for an extend period of time. There was some frustration. Back when I was young and played football it was all about putting up as much weight as possible and that is not what I need to be doing to improve my running. That old mentality is still ingrained but I have come to realize that as a middle aged man I don't really care if I look silly lifting small weights. Working on core strength is also an area I have neglected immensely and will be working hard to keep that a regular part of my routine.<br />
In order to at least maintain some endurance, I would use the elliptical. This was very boring but it was zero impact and I hoped would allow my toe, which I banged up at Leadville, to heal. Once I started running again at the beginning of October there was still some pain so I am concerned that it is not going to improve without significant time off and I'm not prepared to do that right now.<br />
Getting back to running felt good again. I'm still slow but will try not to worry about that. I'm feeling better about my running now. I have upcoming goals that I will get to towards the end of the year. Finally being able to focus on proper training is good both physically and mentally.<br />
An opportunity to assess my current status was the St. Pat's 24 Hour in South Bend, Indiana. I first ran St. Pat's last year. I put it on the calendar again because it was relaxed and extremely fun. The race has you running a flat 3.1 mile loop through a wooded park as many times as you can within the time limit. The course is very flat with one small hill to climb towards the end of the loop.<br />
The beauty of a timed race is that you can do whatever you want. If you want to bang out lap after lap, you can. You can walk a lap. You can set a high mileage goal and try to reach that or set a lower goal, get to that casually and then hang out.<br />
I came into this year's run with no real goal in mind. I suppose I wanted to get around 50 miles but mostly wanted to see how I felt. After spending the night in the barn at the Start/Finish I felt ready to go. The weather for the weekend was perfect. Highs in the mid 70s and lows in the low 60s. A blanket of leaves softened the trail. Everything was aligned for great weekend.<br />
On my first two laps I felt very good but kept telling myself not to get too excited about that. The lap times were consistent and passing by quickly. I would occasionally think to myself that if I kept this up I could get my first sub 24 hour 100 miles. That would be really nice to do but I also believe it would be too much at this point, set training back and require significant recovery time. So after getting to 31 miles at the 6 hour mark, I backed off and walk/jogged a couple laps. It was around this time I decided that getting to a 100k (62.2 miles) would be about right. That way I could get good miles in and still get a chance to socialize.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9s2h6CSN6kTWij-aPmkFmuYBZx-7f8qqbI8aVLbjX2Qa9Ul8LsDjh9QHoeFCmrTS6p9uOsGlXgCElnCzfAKkGEAx9PzhI6vO7BKLjw8aHrIxDWktz1997lhyphenhyphenhkLI3IdZlWtCGMzYn6EDL/s1600/22688566_882279628589645_4611134978348506893_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="841" data-original-width="960" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9s2h6CSN6kTWij-aPmkFmuYBZx-7f8qqbI8aVLbjX2Qa9Ul8LsDjh9QHoeFCmrTS6p9uOsGlXgCElnCzfAKkGEAx9PzhI6vO7BKLjw8aHrIxDWktz1997lhyphenhyphenhkLI3IdZlWtCGMzYn6EDL/s320/22688566_882279628589645_4611134978348506893_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smiles all day<br />photo credit: Barry Adams</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I spent the next 18 hours putting a lap or two in and then hanging out and eating. The food at this event is fantastic. I may have burned many calories running more than 60 miles but I am almost positive I ended up breaking even with all the delicious treats they offered all day and night. The people were great too. Nearly every lap there was some time spent talking with someone, hearing funny stories or about interesting races. Many of the same people return year after year so it becomes a type of reunion. I think I will be going back as often as possible.<br />
St. Pat's raises money for ALS research, which is a great cause. The organization of the race is excellent. Jeanne and Sarah who put on the race do a great job organizing the event as well as being there the entire time encouraging the runners. They know everyone by name and are the friendliest race directors around, and that is saying a lot.<br />
Now the training continues. The winter racing season is nearly here. A few days prior to St. Pat's, the official Arrowhead 135 roster came out and I will be out there again this January but we will get to all that in due time.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-27201637618244665102017-09-14T09:30:00.001-04:002017-09-14T09:30:27.909-04:00Wasatch: Another Lesson in Humility and Altitude<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0wgv2HKtuWXvmBKPSwrbap6OBkGUzYDkjJdIxj6mA1Gq3mgmLXH_BeRBSBEvlVsGD8BRFxIym5LYk_7Ch9kqs6n0kBKEIfeT344fiUMtp4JgIkesImloFlJ59JkJJXJHpAPQy6-5u34hv/s1600/FILE0019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0wgv2HKtuWXvmBKPSwrbap6OBkGUzYDkjJdIxj6mA1Gq3mgmLXH_BeRBSBEvlVsGD8BRFxIym5LYk_7Ch9kqs6n0kBKEIfeT344fiUMtp4JgIkesImloFlJ59JkJJXJHpAPQy6-5u34hv/s320/FILE0019.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
From the beginning I said the plan was audacious. The Order of the Hrimthurs followed by the Grand Slam of Ultrarunning. All of this just a few short months after completing the Super Midwest Slam. After my finish at Arrowhead I felt that anything was possible. I could finish any race I put my mind to and then Western States slapped me down. It was a hot day with difficult conditions in the high country. So the Slam was out but I carried on and suffered through a finish at Vermont. Then came Leadville where I felt so good until the climb at Hope Pass which cost me too much time and got me cut off. So be it. In the immediate aftermath I considered not even going to Utah to give Wasatch a try. But I did go and this is what happened.<br />
<br />
The Wasatch 100 is one of the oldest 100s in the country, this being the 38th running. This year would be special due to the possibility of smoke filled air from the many forest fires out west and possibly the highest temperatures the race had seen. Again I would be facing my big three weaknesses: Heat, altitude and relentless climbing.<br />
<br />
Wasatch does not play around when it comes to getting the steep ascents going. After a short bus ride from downtown Salt Lake City to the start, we set off down the trail meandered along a ridge looking down at the suburbs of Salt Lake. Before the sun had even had a chance of rising, we made a sudden turn to the left and there was a trail that looked like it went straight through the trees into the sky. This was the beginning of a nearly 5000 foot climb over 5 miles. It was slow going and very steep in most places. Eventually, the trail left the trees and I could see where the climb likely ended, and it was so far away. The tiny figures of those ahead of me showed where the trail snaked up the slope.<br />
<br />
After 2 hours I reached the top and began a steady descent down a dirt road that skirted next to 2 radar domes, which I assume were for the airport. I expected the climb to be long and hard. I felt good since I was able to stay relaxed and not strain myself going up since this was so early in the race. The descent was long and I expected the first water station to be coming any time. A first sign of trouble was that I was being passed regularly by other runners on this portion. I wasn't moving as quickly as I probably needed to.<br />
<br />
I reached the water station after what seemed way too long and after I had emptied my 2 liter bladder pack. Arriving at the table, one of the volunteers calmly stated, "We're out of water. They are bringing some if you want to wait or it's 5 miles to the next station if you think you can make it." To say I was furious would be an understatement. How a race of this stature runs out of water at the very first stop is beyond comprehension but there I was. I felt I didn't have the time to spare waiting so I put my pack back on headed off, cursing.<br />
<br />
The next 5 miles had ups and down as we went in and out of canyons. Maybe due to the lack of expected water or, more likely, due to my declining motivation over the past months, I began to slip into a negative place. I realized that this wasn't going to happen based on my pace, my attitude and the throbbing pain in my left big toe that had kicked a rock firmly at mile 6 of Leadville 3 weeks before.<br />
<br />
This next aid station was uneventful. I got my water refilled, ate and quickly moved on. There was still a chance but it was not looking good. It was only 17 miles and I was feeling like mile 70 already. Not good. By the time I rolled into the station at 26 miles, I decided I was done. There was no point in struggling to a finish that wasn't going to happen. I could end it early and get a good start over on my training for next year. However, when I tried to quit at this station they told me it would be hours before I could be driven out and it was 4.4 miles to the next stop. Then he pointed to a peak off in the distance and said you get there and then descend into the next station. I didn't want to but I set off.<br />
<br />
This next section ended up being the easiest of any so far and began to have me questioning my decision. I was almost an hour ahead of the cutoff but over 11 hours to do 31 miles means I would have to go at a faster pace in the next 69 miles. That was not going to happen. Another massive defeat at the hands of a western mountain ultra.<br />
<br />
Now what? There is a slight feeling of humiliation since I boldly put this attempt at the Grand Slam out there publicly and have failed in 3 out of 4 of the races. Not a very good showing at all. A major dose of humility is what I got and that can (and I hope will) be a motivator going into the future. Like I said above, after Arrowhead I felt I could finish any race I started. Confidence is a good thing but I have learned it can also lead to complacency. This led to allowing myself to slack in training with the belief that since I had been successful in the past that I would be so in the future. This may work for a brief time but I eventually had to pay the price.<br />
<br />
Success, however, is arbitrary. I gave myself a goal and fell short. Perhaps the true success was in the attempt. I suppose if I had finished every race I would be satisfied but I do savor the opportunity to return to each of these races and finish them, which I believe will make the finish even more satisfying. I failed in my first attempt at Tuscobia but in that failure I learned what I needed to know to get it done. When I returned this year I applied that and succeeded. In getting over the previous obstacle, I found new ones that were even more difficult but I was prepared. So when I return to each of these races, I will be ready because I feel I now know what it is I needed to know to succeed.<br />
<br />
Ultrarunning is extremely humbling. This is one thing I love about it. There is no faking a 100 mile finish. There are no easy 100 milers, only ones that are more difficult than others. These races break you down and give you a glimpse of your true self. Often, I don't like what I find but then I have the opportunity to make changes and improve myself. I believe when we do this we also make life better for those around us.<br />
<br />
In the end of it all, none of these things mean much of anything. All we do falls into the past and will eventually be lost and forgotten by everyone we know. The past is gone and the future is not here so finding meaning and joy in the present is all we have. I'm not going to dwell on my failures, which are many, and I'm not going to worry about the future. Next year's plans are set for the most part but all I can do is try to enjoy the work I do today.<br />
<br />
I can reset now both physically and mentally. My body needs a bit of a rest and my mind needs to return to the place where it needs to be to get through 100 miles or more. I have had a very good 18 months of racing, even if it didn't end quite the way I wanted it to. There were many positives and, most importantly, many special experiences. This little hobby has led me to places I never would have seen and to meet beautiful people I never would have known. For all of that I am thankful, regardless of the outcome of a race.<br />
<br />
Enough rambling for now. I have decided I will be taking a break from running for the rest of September. I plan on having a "fun run" at the St. Pat's 24 Hour Run in Indiana in October. No goal and no pressure. I have 24 hours to run as much or as little as I want. The rest of the year will be focused on working on my weaknesses prior to the 2018 schedule which will be revealed at a later date.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
My Wasatch pictures:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihLkfXjjVh6Uy-qTupAEEK53Ii1i9W-892FbVIdgyWZuSjZhS1m2oYClobkautG15VY7Y7xD01bG5fwrpSOJkOLiTDoNv3z4oxGH0JyqCb2xFRxbMylFLiX6NpDkswmhPLe1keIYFbj0Xy/s1600/FILE0001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihLkfXjjVh6Uy-qTupAEEK53Ii1i9W-892FbVIdgyWZuSjZhS1m2oYClobkautG15VY7Y7xD01bG5fwrpSOJkOLiTDoNv3z4oxGH0JyqCb2xFRxbMylFLiX6NpDkswmhPLe1keIYFbj0Xy/s320/FILE0001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJKLFYHKD-UVMmDJRr9y95L864Y7tauKXCSI2TYCXhe7cPDijBHjGgb29cU3JXqoY-689CLW1shKOyaWkni6SkvGhI2CuttAdCscCRQPpYW3r6kuFDcKuai6-RrEgy4kkOzXkgByCB2tU3/s1600/FILE0002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJKLFYHKD-UVMmDJRr9y95L864Y7tauKXCSI2TYCXhe7cPDijBHjGgb29cU3JXqoY-689CLW1shKOyaWkni6SkvGhI2CuttAdCscCRQPpYW3r6kuFDcKuai6-RrEgy4kkOzXkgByCB2tU3/s320/FILE0002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW_eicw9RhCSBnVPwUkhApkEmGoIPVJuYZW_9uhDCtVVSMxuYclxnrl7YzuZ2ecAM4Kq8Jn0uFwfY1jbuyICAohIl-m1L3RzwoskWkwZmvxmATwIOeXlXnkwo366mOr6Kn-9gFvKpK-c60/s1600/FILE0003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW_eicw9RhCSBnVPwUkhApkEmGoIPVJuYZW_9uhDCtVVSMxuYclxnrl7YzuZ2ecAM4Kq8Jn0uFwfY1jbuyICAohIl-m1L3RzwoskWkwZmvxmATwIOeXlXnkwo366mOr6Kn-9gFvKpK-c60/s320/FILE0003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQRTHjUAfC6O9xwrrJP0WldvSLNYJwrKmtfqygN36slciECvCH_J3IhDHq_Tx7z2h7dZd4NOkb8TVEQ3uTFdA3q3yi1Kv_xUJxZ6IAtlYXwTR9uY_91WETI0WPL8hA_kLw3fUUlayjushG/s1600/FILE0004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQRTHjUAfC6O9xwrrJP0WldvSLNYJwrKmtfqygN36slciECvCH_J3IhDHq_Tx7z2h7dZd4NOkb8TVEQ3uTFdA3q3yi1Kv_xUJxZ6IAtlYXwTR9uY_91WETI0WPL8hA_kLw3fUUlayjushG/s320/FILE0004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDMNfQrZtHCfO6Y-54_TglTLK_-6CwpP2IxBmKfVdLrNClxq8XPSYfJnOXozgUgDla0CWJW8qv4ritPot9j8NzRKdeGWz3I7DMY7lIEBYr17sbDtxS0h-DT5vHpcQw060qvTjeh3XrOFO/s1600/FILE0005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDMNfQrZtHCfO6Y-54_TglTLK_-6CwpP2IxBmKfVdLrNClxq8XPSYfJnOXozgUgDla0CWJW8qv4ritPot9j8NzRKdeGWz3I7DMY7lIEBYr17sbDtxS0h-DT5vHpcQw060qvTjeh3XrOFO/s320/FILE0005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS4RhsZapIrt_W9GkiZ0AidT2lpbQlP9gFayXtth01UEVovY1Mgu3peNI2R0hDD-k8La2FPpJ-GlRkJ9VHc3EX6GaTqO4Pj25OF4blh7Lbngm80mWia97eNcts9VhJaQXnc0eJLNgbtbLM/s1600/FILE0006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS4RhsZapIrt_W9GkiZ0AidT2lpbQlP9gFayXtth01UEVovY1Mgu3peNI2R0hDD-k8La2FPpJ-GlRkJ9VHc3EX6GaTqO4Pj25OF4blh7Lbngm80mWia97eNcts9VhJaQXnc0eJLNgbtbLM/s320/FILE0006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi055TY9T9105pDEnudVg86LcNQR2i9sYZJA2RUGxeS3fnQTMJV4FR-C021jrmKI5koOZBtqTW5p4H7RG_ZtnS3jarFbrYypzwhe2BDFQ3JPd1TiuqMOCXhtvRLaIHWI34XvMnKf_EA6hU5/s1600/FILE0007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi055TY9T9105pDEnudVg86LcNQR2i9sYZJA2RUGxeS3fnQTMJV4FR-C021jrmKI5koOZBtqTW5p4H7RG_ZtnS3jarFbrYypzwhe2BDFQ3JPd1TiuqMOCXhtvRLaIHWI34XvMnKf_EA6hU5/s320/FILE0007.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiea617y2CkeuzGYddp9ancscnKWUS5FdJ8xEN8OOvH4czQj2WrT2GoMZIG62u_1-SnZF_lamqoelJY4BxbaeLQeqAxS7zDe9f8NrgM3vM040XN7IPUaFdxqvS4WqHHTblXPaPP5D8Mxj7a/s1600/FILE0008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiea617y2CkeuzGYddp9ancscnKWUS5FdJ8xEN8OOvH4czQj2WrT2GoMZIG62u_1-SnZF_lamqoelJY4BxbaeLQeqAxS7zDe9f8NrgM3vM040XN7IPUaFdxqvS4WqHHTblXPaPP5D8Mxj7a/s320/FILE0008.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2jIafE723uUgKoiUyKuzTMjggxKEV9RrENxcE6ecEW8XRcaStp0NKzkGBGgoPIOiy6T583BdgPoKPpXXsfXPaAhx-J8nx2iFfIBVOxpV51iVxBGBmulJX4YU0tp1lfjp13CjpcOgMMyE/s1600/FILE0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2jIafE723uUgKoiUyKuzTMjggxKEV9RrENxcE6ecEW8XRcaStp0NKzkGBGgoPIOiy6T583BdgPoKPpXXsfXPaAhx-J8nx2iFfIBVOxpV51iVxBGBmulJX4YU0tp1lfjp13CjpcOgMMyE/s320/FILE0009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgmlKkW9hjgRn_BnFsgYuWC3PbqlGvfrGBIFg1xhSH6BWptJj0HcTYQ3bS5gUsjfrXCGxL3btxnML5ZZqo-sC1cVTu0IIQcPVMg4IxESJlkeZhkBGCrhD2KkRAhoeHBoEuP9DDCUdytTiJ/s1600/FILE0010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgmlKkW9hjgRn_BnFsgYuWC3PbqlGvfrGBIFg1xhSH6BWptJj0HcTYQ3bS5gUsjfrXCGxL3btxnML5ZZqo-sC1cVTu0IIQcPVMg4IxESJlkeZhkBGCrhD2KkRAhoeHBoEuP9DDCUdytTiJ/s320/FILE0010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUany6WpvgaLlikfRmyuUN_1o6FCVNTI-o6uqVQlPa9L_k-xdvp_jTidVjd_EcgnyNJ_sGp8xlHL97x95wCBaIS8_YLdO4wYGFPwAPKZi3zi5ve03RPSPdNpUBTyVxnqDAONob8ggnJtCi/s1600/FILE0011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUany6WpvgaLlikfRmyuUN_1o6FCVNTI-o6uqVQlPa9L_k-xdvp_jTidVjd_EcgnyNJ_sGp8xlHL97x95wCBaIS8_YLdO4wYGFPwAPKZi3zi5ve03RPSPdNpUBTyVxnqDAONob8ggnJtCi/s320/FILE0011.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissyMUyUmpSmiaPfySlmm5p6aZQYj4yc5dYCgnSznnI7Zr-1sqySbetaoLCZG1YJR5zgpJ6Qyt5aPAzDMRudFArKbXDdy5M-dhU-Y6BzFoD5040khTG3MmqA_eChfFftjdaqY7G_7IKldI/s1600/FILE0012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissyMUyUmpSmiaPfySlmm5p6aZQYj4yc5dYCgnSznnI7Zr-1sqySbetaoLCZG1YJR5zgpJ6Qyt5aPAzDMRudFArKbXDdy5M-dhU-Y6BzFoD5040khTG3MmqA_eChfFftjdaqY7G_7IKldI/s320/FILE0012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfq8C_49Wbb6y0qmjOfqxodx_FvX_45Mxrxl0poogbGmj2S-jL6JIbR5wOydtyHaRv8g40OwZzEMjy4kUrTPXJoqmZyjSyim3V6iG1wKADzis8B02jr4IWfPXgX-tpfxtolMCSPfxhmHU/s1600/FILE0013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfq8C_49Wbb6y0qmjOfqxodx_FvX_45Mxrxl0poogbGmj2S-jL6JIbR5wOydtyHaRv8g40OwZzEMjy4kUrTPXJoqmZyjSyim3V6iG1wKADzis8B02jr4IWfPXgX-tpfxtolMCSPfxhmHU/s320/FILE0013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsao7q8EZCRHhJ-YfQ4CKbMTM6dy_j0mbpCFaYJbJpJHIU4xKk8bC9LvvV_N4lwR7-iUgujC42KuqBU9EfG9mVt14k_af8yHPJ5DU2rTX777K0bOsKD1putau-VclB8wwhYyj6_NRm9cIs/s1600/FILE0014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsao7q8EZCRHhJ-YfQ4CKbMTM6dy_j0mbpCFaYJbJpJHIU4xKk8bC9LvvV_N4lwR7-iUgujC42KuqBU9EfG9mVt14k_af8yHPJ5DU2rTX777K0bOsKD1putau-VclB8wwhYyj6_NRm9cIs/s320/FILE0014.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4QBnfyZXoWwdEXV1cczBhEEbPH7dC9PxtaeTbS3KS1hDay-q9Ep6vBram6sKpjdLsDfXmS6L52MsXslLNpRlYkhWk-TVWCmA8xgACCbH4UztJMxfm7Uk3O69BdiY7K_9KsWWdiSBLfRG/s1600/FILE0015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4QBnfyZXoWwdEXV1cczBhEEbPH7dC9PxtaeTbS3KS1hDay-q9Ep6vBram6sKpjdLsDfXmS6L52MsXslLNpRlYkhWk-TVWCmA8xgACCbH4UztJMxfm7Uk3O69BdiY7K_9KsWWdiSBLfRG/s320/FILE0015.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwDeyGQ1Yr-kmQBfAbrCtZ5Y7hGzk5W41-tQr04jc5E3XEVhYpykvOmJJpPkTTiWiQ8f_zxXouyePuz6ziMIbGKjKsaAazAXcWk0-S-Nz6NjcaqsqoXuIgApZFTvGmaxLN4mnlWp_Ei7_f/s1600/FILE0016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwDeyGQ1Yr-kmQBfAbrCtZ5Y7hGzk5W41-tQr04jc5E3XEVhYpykvOmJJpPkTTiWiQ8f_zxXouyePuz6ziMIbGKjKsaAazAXcWk0-S-Nz6NjcaqsqoXuIgApZFTvGmaxLN4mnlWp_Ei7_f/s320/FILE0016.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2jZBik7aNLqXJ1DyLcMVcgsIOrkNHuKgsiYKck92AINpaIsB-oJ4FxJR_dwTJ3c8rtzdq2qbgM89A1WleiojYkU5YQeMh25hkEGrf_VkThzOy3SmZUd0R4AclP6zxfSoVHv-npovVEF-/s1600/FILE0017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2jZBik7aNLqXJ1DyLcMVcgsIOrkNHuKgsiYKck92AINpaIsB-oJ4FxJR_dwTJ3c8rtzdq2qbgM89A1WleiojYkU5YQeMh25hkEGrf_VkThzOy3SmZUd0R4AclP6zxfSoVHv-npovVEF-/s320/FILE0017.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5wvco2x8CDrvg_E7mkgrOdxtiBRz4bQ4UBielzMiyEyxwTHvC8yA-fYABtDpTXoqzeybjmFmt8wvsnRwpCJI6n7y7VRQeRhE9OAwSuBserfLnZ3o9AwOTSTLJRHFBc_lImWSJsd2phe7M/s1600/FILE0018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5wvco2x8CDrvg_E7mkgrOdxtiBRz4bQ4UBielzMiyEyxwTHvC8yA-fYABtDpTXoqzeybjmFmt8wvsnRwpCJI6n7y7VRQeRhE9OAwSuBserfLnZ3o9AwOTSTLJRHFBc_lImWSJsd2phe7M/s320/FILE0018.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0wgv2HKtuWXvmBKPSwrbap6OBkGUzYDkjJdIxj6mA1Gq3mgmLXH_BeRBSBEvlVsGD8BRFxIym5LYk_7Ch9kqs6n0kBKEIfeT344fiUMtp4JgIkesImloFlJ59JkJJXJHpAPQy6-5u34hv/s1600/FILE0019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPw_4AYxoM0SIUzWfLBRg0lewYmZud8Z9opr2ot_9TGv3A7hssN6a8GD1JXjCr9_5B0Y6OeG3OmbCf0cpquOuTtFFvaliJA923zEmX_U4TyXQrRII5_3St3zHO8nrZe-pf8xXmCer_oAmR/s1600/FILE0020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPw_4AYxoM0SIUzWfLBRg0lewYmZud8Z9opr2ot_9TGv3A7hssN6a8GD1JXjCr9_5B0Y6OeG3OmbCf0cpquOuTtFFvaliJA923zEmX_U4TyXQrRII5_3St3zHO8nrZe-pf8xXmCer_oAmR/s320/FILE0020.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-24231826064414604842017-08-28T10:14:00.001-04:002017-08-28T10:14:28.416-04:00Leadville, Too Damn HighWhile reflecting on what I would post for this race report, another blog post came out that you may want to read first because it captures much of what I was already thinking.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.irunfar.com/2017/08/a-leadville-dnf-believing-in-not-yet.html">http://www.irunfar.com/2017/08/a-leadville-dnf-believing-in-not-yet.html</a><br />
<br />
As my previous post covered, I have been dealing with some (minor) issues that have been making running not that fun to me lately. Over the last 18 months I have run many long races and, for the most part, have been successful. I failed to finish Western States which was disappointing but I accepted it in the immediate aftermath. As time has gone by, I have been questioning what could have been in that race. I "succeeded" at Vermont but found very little joy in running a race on a course that, in retrospect, was idyllic and beautiful. This was how the table was set going into my attempt at the iconic Leadville 100.<br />
<br />
If you've read <i>Born to Run, </i>and if you run you probably have, then you would be somewhat familiar with Leadville. The course is roughly 50 miles out to the turn around at Winfield and then 50 miles back to Leadville. The elevation at the start is just over 10,000 feet. Thin air to be sure. There are a few ups and downs before the big climb just after 40 miles. This is the climb up to the high point of the race at Hope Pass, around 12,600 feet above sea level. You then drop down into Winfield, turn around and go back.<br />
<br />
I flew into Denver on Thursday and drove down to my hotel in Frisco. From there I met up with Scott from Ten Junk Miles Podcast who had offered to crew and pace and we headed down to Leadville for the annual Leadville Beer Mile. This was my first beer mile and was bit more difficult than I thought it would be. It was, however, a great time. I even earned a finisher's award.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyGK0cURgJ-P9CVdajXje5amq3uacy-DWxuHwMvztM5PzRG4mcMiVoHvGto4UqJvuAxVjuLJd2ZKfT9ckbkDWo4tl_aeKp3OkF3OJxWujqLVr6vAN7mXI6ydcyCleJv95q4ORgEgT_vswD/s1600/20170827_073840.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyGK0cURgJ-P9CVdajXje5amq3uacy-DWxuHwMvztM5PzRG4mcMiVoHvGto4UqJvuAxVjuLJd2ZKfT9ckbkDWo4tl_aeKp3OkF3OJxWujqLVr6vAN7mXI6ydcyCleJv95q4ORgEgT_vswD/s320/20170827_073840.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Four beers. One mile. No puke. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I picked up my race packet and relaxed on Friday. Unlike my last few races, I had a fitful night of sleep, waking up around 2 AM. I had plenty of time to dress and have some breakfast before the 4 AM start. I felt a little sleepy but not bad as the excitement of the race gave me some early energy.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7nWiDGRyaqZ1geAx_U1-Q1nzvTzt0FvvyHylMsUQod8T7FtEkGkT9LCWy0dg0oLDv6EZkHlJBcWxM0TRjHAvZ8IWProkyPdlIIEWT-WW6FTNd-CsGN3_4gZfm4GwH4vYypJHxYJ9HHEx/s1600/FILE0002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7nWiDGRyaqZ1geAx_U1-Q1nzvTzt0FvvyHylMsUQod8T7FtEkGkT9LCWy0dg0oLDv6EZkHlJBcWxM0TRjHAvZ8IWProkyPdlIIEWT-WW6FTNd-CsGN3_4gZfm4GwH4vYypJHxYJ9HHEx/s320/FILE0002.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready to go</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
The start line was packed with runners with their friends and families. The temperatures were perfect for running. The countdown began, a shotgun blast and we were off. The first aid station at May Queen was 13.5 miles away. The loose cut off time was listed as 7:15 AM so I wanted to run easy but still get there without worrying about cutting it too close. I tried to get over early race excitement and settle into a relaxed pace.<br />
<br />
It was around 3 miles in that we finally reached some single track trail and the conga line effect set in. This can be frustrating when I am stuck behind someone going too slow but it also can be good by keeping me from going too fast early in the race. A little after the 6 mile mark I tried passing one of these slower runners and suddenly slammed my big toe into either a root or rock. I caught myself on my other foot and both hands and began running again. That one kind of hurt.<br />
<br />
We followed the trail along Turquoise Lake as the sun came up. Around 6:30 I rolled into the campground at May Queen ahead of what I expected. Things were looking good. As I ran in I saw my brothers and sister in law standing just ahead of the station. I gave them all a hug as it was a special treat to see them all. I grabbed some food in the station and move the far side and sat to take a look at my toe, which was still throbbing from the incident earlier.<br />
<br />
Leaving May Queen we immediately started to climb. The slope was not too bad but slowed everyone to a hike. We switched back and forth and could look back over the lake and look down on the campground we had just left. I felt very good and was moving well. I enjoyed the views and took a moment or two to take them in. I wanted to just stand and look at the scenery but there was still along way to go.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-QzVSUI9_hogiahTnlO-cVnL7KmJqOUeN8iPcvTIfRjuFhKsUNejnANETFXe0OIHWCrk6cdb7YTGBy3YIcjs_nVgEWXxjO09xkc5rUNYV-phd-aoZ1fmZwrjKckLQObywMVXHVohC1H0K/s1600/IMG_1503127434000.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-QzVSUI9_hogiahTnlO-cVnL7KmJqOUeN8iPcvTIfRjuFhKsUNejnANETFXe0OIHWCrk6cdb7YTGBy3YIcjs_nVgEWXxjO09xkc5rUNYV-phd-aoZ1fmZwrjKckLQObywMVXHVohC1H0K/s320/IMG_1503127434000.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing up out of May Queen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Reaching to top of this long climb was not so bad. I was hiking well on the climbs and running the flats. A little over 20 miles we reached the Powerline/Sugarloaf section which in this direction is a long descent into the second aid station called Outward Bound (formerly Fish Hatchery). This section was a little steep in places but not too bad. I ran down trying to gain some time but also trying not to wear out my quads taking it too fast. It seemed to go on for a while and I was thinking that it would be quite the climb on the way back.<br />
<br />
I arrived at the station a little after 9 AM which put me nearly an hour ahead of cut off. My crew was there which gave me a little bit of a boost. I was in and out very quickly not wanting to waste time. I was a quarter of the way through the race and felt great. I was feeling like this was going to happen and not be a problem.<br />
<br />
The next section followed some roads and I was quickly in touch with my crew again after just a few miles at an alternate crewing location prior to the next aid station which wasn't for another 4 miles or so. I rolled along talking to other runners here and there, just letting the miles go by. The Half Pipe station was uneventful and again I was quickly in and out.<br />
<br />
The next nine miles to Twin Lakes consisted of a long gradual climb and then a gradual decent into the station. I was getting a little tired but still able to run most of the flats with short walking breaks mixed in. You could see the aid station almost 2 miles before getting there as we wound down and around the trails waiting for the turn that would send us towards it.<br />
<br />
I arrived at Twin Lakes at 1 PM, which is 40 miles in 9 hours, better than 4 miles per hour and plenty fast enough to finish in time, at least to this point. My crew was waiting along with my brothers. This gave me another boost. I lubed up some hot spots on my feet, which were holding up nicely, and grabbed my trekking poles for the climb up to Hope Pass that was just ahead. Again, I was in and out quickly. I had 5 hours to get up and over the pass to Winfield, just 10 miles away. Sure, it was a long climb at altitude but then I would be descending and would make up some time. 2 miles per hour to make the cut off seemed easy to do.<br />
<br />
It was a couple miles across some open valley plains before reaching the climb. I could see the pass off in the distance and kept looking to get the climb started and over with. The open fields ended and there in front of me was a path going what looked like straight up forever. Here it was. All I had to do was get over it, head back and shuffle through to the finish.<br />
<br />
I was moving well at first but then the same thing that happened at Western States started to happen here. My heart rate would spike and I couldn't catch my breath. I would try to slow my pace but nothing would slow my heart down so I would feel a slight panic and stop to try to breathe. This repeated itself over and over. After what seemed like an eternity, I felt I must be getting close to the top, I saw a sign that said, "Hope Pass 2.5 miles". I was crushed. There was no way it could be that far after how long I had been going. I trudged on slowly and finally came to another sign that said the pass was 2 miles away. I sank further.<br />
<br />
I looked at my watch. I told myself that if I made it to the pass at 4 PM I would have 2 hours to get down the 5 miles into Winfield. Plenty of time with a descent. I hit the Hope Pass aid station and saw that there was still a 600 foot climb to the top of the pass. Crushed again, but I still had time to make my 4 PM goal at the top, which I did eventually make on the nose.<br />
<br />
On the descent I started to feel better. There was traffic coming both ways regularly now as runners were making the return trip back up the pass. I figured I would make it to Winfield with a good half hour to spare which was not ideal but at least I would make the cut off. Time ticked away at it seemed I never got any closer to the station. After an hour I passed some volunteers guiding us at a turn and they told me it was about 3 miles to the station. I ran for another half hour and started asking runners how much further. 2.5 miles. There was no way. How could it be that far still? Time ticked down and I began to realize I wasn't going to make it. How was this section so long?<br />
<br />
I ended up running into the station about 5 minutes after the cut off and immediately sat in the chair my crew had for me. I spent a few minutes letting it sink in that it was over before walking over to the station. A line of large men stood across the road with a little lady in front of them. This was the dreaded Cutoff Queen. She held the scissors in her hand that cut off the wristband showing that I was participant in the race. She told me I did great and gave me hug. It was only halfway but my race was over.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0r06ua_eXLGGsoqG2RPCnLpDEk89TW2AKIgKVqSC4acRT2Lao0UYoVUuU9EaNQWjARJ76DyCr7AIu5y44cdG18dKZ1_oae8j_TF9Ktmeci31vMXjH6698ccwvn4f0XDn-Y38vHqVzI_ku/s1600/20170818_143858.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0r06ua_eXLGGsoqG2RPCnLpDEk89TW2AKIgKVqSC4acRT2Lao0UYoVUuU9EaNQWjARJ76DyCr7AIu5y44cdG18dKZ1_oae8j_TF9Ktmeci31vMXjH6698ccwvn4f0XDn-Y38vHqVzI_ku/s320/20170818_143858.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good bye friend</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This was another failure but this one was different. I failed at Western States and was ok with it but still questioned whether or not I could have done something different. I still do. Vermont was a "success" but I did not find any joy in the race. I was miserable the entire way and finishing, while helping show I could still do this thing, was unsatisfying.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What made Leadville different was that I had fun. The views were beautiful and the people I met and spent time with were wonderful. I appreciate the time I spent in the mountains with friends, family and with myself. As the post I referenced at the beginning discussed, I just didn't have what it took this day but I know I learned something. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Given another chance at it I truly believe that I can do much better with what I have learned. Nearly two years ago I failed halfway through the Tuscobia 160. That failure taught me a very valuable lesson. Thinking about what it takes to complete these races is often much different than what you actually encounter. At Tuscobia I learned what happens after 80 miles of bitter cold and wrecked feet. I learned what to do to take the next step and a year later I finished that race. In failing I was given the knowledge needed to succeed later. It was only a matter of time and doing.<br />
<br />
So I learned a few things in Leadville. First, I need to be in much better shape. I've race too much and not trained the way I should. That is easily fixable. Being in better shape would also help me not have to carry so much weight over Hope Pass next time. Mentally I need a reset too. I'm cutting back on races next year to give myself time to physically train properly and time to mentally recover properly. I learned that getting over the pass requires a mental toughness I didn't have this time. Of course, next time I think I would arrive earlier and try to acclimate better to the altitude. I am now certain that altitude is a weakness for me that I will be working to improve on.<br />
<br />
The good thing is I also had some lesson in what went right. I think I have finally found the right socks to prevent (most) blisters. I have reduced my aid station time immensely which means more moving time and finishing faster. I've improved my hydration and nutrition intake as well which helps keep me running later in the race.<br />
<br />
It was strange to wake up the days after the race to feel like I barely did anything. I had one day of mild soreness and that was it. The toe that kicked the rock has been another story. It was hurting enough that I went to the doctor fearing it was broken but X-rays showed it was not. I tried running on it but stopped due to the pain and wanting to let it heal as much as possible before Wasatch in September.<br />
<br />
I'd like to thank Scott, Julio and Angela for taking the time to crew me. I looked forward to seeing you all at each station and your support was very helpful and appreciated. I owe each of you a great debt, so if you ever need anything, just ask. I only wish I could have given you the chance to pace me on the way back. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Thanks also to my brothers, Matt and David and sister in law, Karen for coming out. It is always a treat to see you and especially out on the trail. It would have been great to celebrate a finish this time but we'll get there. I love you all and appreciate you coming out. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-78823416796901931402017-08-14T07:43:00.000-04:002017-08-14T07:43:36.156-04:00Mashed Potatoes and a Leadville PreviewThis is a post I was planning on getting to at some point. If you came for a purely running blog post then this isn't the one for you. It may be oversharing but it is what it is. Read at your own discretion.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGqYfF8YMyVabYjCV0ECjshYeWtWPlY4lYKez0joZF_VyeEUsROojtu01UQtwm3bWk6Cj8V5bQYPALaD0772c31EM6KpIOkkW-6s0kHt2mxpV6iLuL9uXxcnr5IyGUIV5n96A4TrPK_Z5t/s1600/1156f4ec-29c8-4cd9-80db-7d4ee330b1d0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGqYfF8YMyVabYjCV0ECjshYeWtWPlY4lYKez0joZF_VyeEUsROojtu01UQtwm3bWk6Cj8V5bQYPALaD0772c31EM6KpIOkkW-6s0kHt2mxpV6iLuL9uXxcnr5IyGUIV5n96A4TrPK_Z5t/s320/1156f4ec-29c8-4cd9-80db-7d4ee330b1d0.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Ultrarunning has been a stabilizing factor in my life. The pursuit of goals and the regular structure of training has given me some needed purpose and a method of dealing with life's problems. The small progress and even occasional setbacks of each day's workout, builds up to a race where all the work and discipline is put to the test. The race appears to be the goal but I have learned that the daily pursuit is the true source of joy and self discovery. Training for and running a 100 miles or more teaches you that any plan you have will need to be adjusted or just scrapped for a new one on the fly. Problem solving and flexibility will be the best tools to have. Accepting the current conditions for what they are and not trying to control what you can't control will keep you from wasting energy worrying and getting angry about things you can't change. All of these can be applied to life overall. Often easier said than done but there is also the lesson that perfection is an impossible goal. In fact imperfection is what makes life interesting.<br />
<br />
This being said, running has not been fun for me recently. My best guess (and hope) is that this is simply burnout from running too many races over the past 18 months. By my count I have finished 9 races of 100 miles or more in that time, DNF'd another 2, and run several 50 milers. There has not been any real recovery time or a good few months of training build up. All this led to the DNF at Western States and the race in Vermont where I finished but did not enjoy any of it. It has led to me struggling to get myself out to run in an effort to stay fit enough to make it through the next race. If I do manage to get myself out, I just want it to be over and don't get the satisfaction from it I once did. This led me to start thinking about the mashed potatoes analogy.<br />
<br />
What is that?<br />
<br />
I saw this post going around a year or two ago with a screenshot of this:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAxT_NDGBw2LOV3gNjKARtPWYX7hSUtpazN1LtES7wJy8_J4ebaE5_z5LoQ3_femhkYBbreFAGy-i9B1hS-GXjvUw-6_oA70m9a5gFockw1icE9VzzgBquNeuHFuGdXcFdwTHqh9lERT6p/s1600/mashed+potatoes.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="886" data-original-width="780" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAxT_NDGBw2LOV3gNjKARtPWYX7hSUtpazN1LtES7wJy8_J4ebaE5_z5LoQ3_femhkYBbreFAGy-i9B1hS-GXjvUw-6_oA70m9a5gFockw1icE9VzzgBquNeuHFuGdXcFdwTHqh9lERT6p/s640/mashed+potatoes.png" width="561" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
This made complete sense to me and maybe it will to some of you as well. It made sense to me because I have been through it, probably most severely in 2009, due to and likely greatly contributing to a doomed marriage. It was a very difficult time in my life but I eventually came out of it and it led me to the very good place I am in today.<br />
<br />
Through running I found my way out of a very low time. I found a coping mechanism. Lately, however, running and some other activities in life have started to taste like mashed potatoes. Only a little bit though so while I am concerned, I can still use the lessons I've learned from running to problem solve and adjust. Running long distance teaches you to become very aware of everything that is going on in your body and mind. I've learned to recognize the signs of depression in myself and feel it is time to take some steps to work on this.<br />
<br />
Now I'm not sure if how I'm feeling is related to simply being burned out. The more I learn about concussions and CTE with the potential behavioral and mood altering effects associated with them, the more I worry about the price to be paid for playing football. Getting hit in the head several thousand times over nine years cannot be a good thing. However, my current state could be due to any number of things. Whatever it is will eventually be sorted out.<br />
<br />
I hesitated to even post this but my motivation in sharing is twofold. First (and least) is to adhere to the spirit I started the blog, to be candid and document for myself this running journey and attempt at the the Order and the Grand Slam. Second and most importantly, is to show others that it is OK to discuss these issues and, hopefully, this will lead to those affected getting the help they need. We still live in a society where just bringing up mental health issues makes people uncomfortable. Mental health is somehow not treated in the same way as "physical" health. I do believe it is improving but there is still work to do and I hope I can do my small part to help that.<br />
<br />
And to just finish up on this topic for now, I'm fine. No need for concern. It's just a health thing that requires some attention but I appreciate your understanding and support. The response I get from people who have been reading the blog has been motivating for me. Thank you so much. <br />
<br />
We are now a week away from Leadville. I rested for a week after Vermont and, as I implied above, my running in the meantime has not been the best. I keep telling myself that I just ran 100 miles a month ago so I should be fine. Leadville, however, is a race at altitude, starting in the city of Leadville at around 10,000 feet above sea level. From there it drops a small amount but eventually crosses over Hope Pass, the high point of the race, at 12,600 feet.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVOU1TSKyyMrzjVHIWtQ29-XPEJnOxpMWVFG62dzduUb8fN-sfjNzxqLEDPIVDX3JxLaZ6oz418WCJFMWTtx8ej7H2kf8WBVV7P6cAS1tt_yKzdy_OMbw48RRhnNP7VXJKt6Og6K13W8Cd/s1600/leadville+elevation.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="461" data-original-width="1227" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVOU1TSKyyMrzjVHIWtQ29-XPEJnOxpMWVFG62dzduUb8fN-sfjNzxqLEDPIVDX3JxLaZ6oz418WCJFMWTtx8ej7H2kf8WBVV7P6cAS1tt_yKzdy_OMbw48RRhnNP7VXJKt6Og6K13W8Cd/s640/leadville+elevation.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">40 to 60 miles looks fun!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
There are only 11 aid stations, so they is a good distance between each one, meaning I will have to carry plenty of water and calories with me. The time cutoffs will be tight for a big slow guy like me. I will need to push to get out to the 50 mile turn around in a good time to give myself a chance at finishing. I am lucky to have some friends offer to crew and pace which will be new and helpful to me as I have only had a crew at my first 100 and never had a pacer. My brother and his wife will be out spectating and, hopefully, we will be celebrating together at the finish line. That is a big motivator to get there.<br />
Considering my current physical and mental state combined with this course and the inherent difficulty of running 100 miles, I have my work cut out for me. I am looking forward to the challenge and a chance to be around ultrarunners, who are inspiring, good people. I am hoping to have a good time even when it is miserable and difficult.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Check out the folks over at <a href="http://defeatthestigmaproject.org/">Defeat The Stigma Project</a> for the great work they do raising awareness of mental health issues. Like them on Facebook at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/defeatthestigmaproject.org">https://www.facebook.com/defeatthestigmaproject.org</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5319830804526935616.post-10882682603745790612017-07-19T13:22:00.000-04:002017-07-19T13:22:12.167-04:00Nausea and Resentment in Vermont<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjZebNynJlE9ac985jrzIG6be4eElAvt3IHZCP47RrDKZ3FEZE_tX-xV_DMysFLJXnqjj_l6ATSjIXjV6i5ws5ic0sxqYJBbyKFx_8SJniMwaCmizVVYBCvufSkVKNpOYC73Rw0jYjpNE/s1600/20108237_10155453205578516_6496185245888588152_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjZebNynJlE9ac985jrzIG6be4eElAvt3IHZCP47RrDKZ3FEZE_tX-xV_DMysFLJXnqjj_l6ATSjIXjV6i5ws5ic0sxqYJBbyKFx_8SJniMwaCmizVVYBCvufSkVKNpOYC73Rw0jYjpNE/s320/20108237_10155453205578516_6496185245888588152_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
There are times where it is necessary to evaluate what you are doing and determine if the reasons you think you are doing it are honest and worthy. I reached this point in the middle of the night in hills of Vermont this past weekend.<br />
<br />
Coming off of a DNF at Western States, I wanted to do well at Vermont. I had decided that even if the Slam was over I would still finish out the races I had committed to. Vermont was the "easiest" of the four races so I could get over my previous failure with a solid finish there.<br />
<br />
I made the drive out to Vermont with a overnight stop in Albany on Thursday. I checked in about as early as possible on Friday morning and had the rest of the day to relax, which I did by napping in my car despite having a tent set up. After the pre-race meeting and meal I went to the tent to read and ended up falling asleep very early. This was fine since the race started at 4 AM.<br />
<br />
I had an alarm set but was awakened by other runners getting up and moving about. I threw my running clothes on, ate couple Cliff bars and made my way to the start line. There was, of course, the stop at the porta potty on the way.<br />
<br />
In the three weeks since Western States, I had run some and felt decent. I felt this was due to the fact that I had only gone 62 miles instead of the full 100. So physically I was definitely up to Vermont. Mentally was another story. I was disappointed in the DNF for sure but at the same time I knew that I had done what I could. Unfortunately, some of the "what if" thoughts had started creeping. What if I had pushed harder to get to Foresthill in time? What if I hadn't missed the turn? Could I have pushed to make the rest of the cutoffs and come in gloriously in the final minutes. Maybe. Possibly.<br />
<br />
No. These thoughts were ridiculous. I would push them away but this just presented another set of problems. Maybe I'm just not good enough to continue doing this. I'm a faker who has only gotten lucky to finish what I have finished. I mean, look at how many of these races I have just scraped by. You can't keep that up for long without being found out and Western States was just the beginning.<br />
<br />
As you can see, I wasn't in a very positive state of mind when I reached the start line that morning in rural Vermont. But there I was and it was time to go, so I went, hoping things would turn around, I would finish, and everything would be ok,<br />
<br />
From what I had researched, Vermont is known to be a warm and humid race but the forecast appeared to be looking good on race day. It was in the low 60s at the start with a slight chance of rain during the day. The high was expected to be in the high 70s which would be manageable.<br />
<br />
The sun came up and revealed misty green hills. Before long the horses and riders started passing which was a fun diversion early on. I was moving well and feeling not great but ok. Early on the downhills I started feeling some pain in my right shin which was concerning but in the past I know these types of pains go away. Eventually it did.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdFTXkmaoJ9bRDV5vltrzaO7K7Q77UhQtrvCCyqDOzlRma050-2xW2aZQaOPQtH17Cj59OVpGICX3qt6xwKKD3UhTxMgN4muGXa4ENpQi9tczmq2-8jQYLtAgsTXt2zo9WWh7bbJhqiWkD/s1600/FILE0006+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdFTXkmaoJ9bRDV5vltrzaO7K7Q77UhQtrvCCyqDOzlRma050-2xW2aZQaOPQtH17Cj59OVpGICX3qt6xwKKD3UhTxMgN4muGXa4ENpQi9tczmq2-8jQYLtAgsTXt2zo9WWh7bbJhqiWkD/s320/FILE0006+%25281%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
One piece of my 100 mile gear is a pace chart showing the aid stations, the distance between them and the pace needed for certain time goals. I had one made for this race but ended up forgetting to bring it. This freed me in a way to just run without worrying too much about pace. I could just run what I felt was comfortable.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivEftFn_6IYPz5wE8o2j2lEdVbIH9-s5cMq6jWIqylRmx_abgVUh5JUnTlE_c063KGb-59n1PLBOkA0m2K7JicidAYEpot-FY91Fg9uAo-7tDk3TQd2ScZ2BO5T_dfLB6ZbCJW7wn40M3P/s1600/FILE0010+%25281%2529%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivEftFn_6IYPz5wE8o2j2lEdVbIH9-s5cMq6jWIqylRmx_abgVUh5JUnTlE_c063KGb-59n1PLBOkA0m2K7JicidAYEpot-FY91Fg9uAo-7tDk3TQd2ScZ2BO5T_dfLB6ZbCJW7wn40M3P/s320/FILE0010+%25281%2529%25281%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
The aching muscles began somewhere around 20 miles, which is typical. I was soaking wet since it was too humid for my sweat to evaporate. I closely monitored my fluid intake but kind of slacked on the food since the aid stations were only about an hour apart. Regardless of how I worked to keep my pace comfortable and my hydration and nutrition up, I felt like I was sinking and getting nowhere.<br />
<br />
It was around 30 miles I had a mini breakdown. The fact that it occurred so early only made it worse. I felt desperate and incapable of going on. I felt like there was no way I could go another 70 miles and I was just lying to myself and everyone else about being an ultrarunner. In retrospect I don't know what caused this, especially since the difficult parts of the race were still coming. My pace was good and even if it fell off I could make a decent time. Still it seemed everyone else was moving so much better and I should be too. I started thinking about quitting. My heart was not in it at all.<br />
<br />
I kept moving but a bit slower. It was all about just getting to the next aid station now. I knew it was a low and that things would get better but at that moment my trust in that was next to nothing. My stomach started tightening up. At each aid station I would look over the food choices and want none of it. This is not normal for me but I would try to grab a couple things and get them down, which became harder and harder to do.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDf3yxZYECTlS6dHvVWTSXarisn2ksaSTVM0vjW62xuglX8c2ZGwbYt35CfUJBATHGa6-f3bNlrnRmBIdJhBVa5D7EUOZM5Q4jaGHLmeboSUbMMkIHX6ktH-SqRqPDFrsdQ7yJeZDtNLrC/s1600/FILE0011+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDf3yxZYECTlS6dHvVWTSXarisn2ksaSTVM0vjW62xuglX8c2ZGwbYt35CfUJBATHGa6-f3bNlrnRmBIdJhBVa5D7EUOZM5Q4jaGHLmeboSUbMMkIHX6ktH-SqRqPDFrsdQ7yJeZDtNLrC/s320/FILE0011+%25281%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Finally reaching Camp 10 Bear station (mile 47) in 11 hours was a milestone for me. It was the first time I allowed myself to sit down. It was a chance to get my drop bag and change socks. This small act and knowing I was so close to the halfway point gave me some new life. Then I stood up and saw Hal Koerner, 2 time winner of Western States and a winner at Hardrock. He was on the opposite side of the station, the side used at the 70 mile mark. The man was 23 miles ahead of me. Amazing.<br />
<br />
The second half began and I continued to slow more. The climbs seemed to become longer. My quads were burning more with each downhill. The ball of my right foot would burn in these sections as I could feel the blister forming. With each climb I would try to power through and just get it over with. At the same time I was saying to myself that this whole thing was idiotic. What was I doing? There was no enjoyment. No sense of accomplishing anything. All I was doing was climbing up and down hills in some random place in the middle of the night. Is this really what I do and why? Why?<br />
<br />
The miles slowly melted away. Aid station to aid station. I would sit briefly and try to get some food down. My stomach felt terrible. I thought throwing up would make me finally feel better. A couple times I would run and keep running in an effort make myself throw up. It wouldn't happen.<br />
<br />
To add to the nausea and aching body, around 10 PM (which I think was around 70 miles), the sleepiness started to hit me hard. I began to stagger like a drunk person. I hoped runner coming up from behind me wouldn't see. There was at least 7 hours until the sun would come up and it would start to get better. This was so long. Too long. I kept moving on to the next station.<br />
<br />
It went on like this until the sun did come up. Even then it took a good hour before I could move without feeling like I was going to fall asleep on my feet. As the sun rose, I could tell that this day was going to be hotter than the previous one. Thankfully the sun occasionally moved behind some clouds.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcFK5XAeKcAxieuzZ1_BLqHlc7L49Ag0vzCF0qjq1w3q875NAR0VC5LLhixf77h0UtN1dL-4qg7YLsKqFaEQS_X0ZzupymmmS1dvHfgU5RYFOSXBKVuaGqIpVkRj590U_s2rYigUIoNjJ/s1600/FILE0015+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcFK5XAeKcAxieuzZ1_BLqHlc7L49Ag0vzCF0qjq1w3q875NAR0VC5LLhixf77h0UtN1dL-4qg7YLsKqFaEQS_X0ZzupymmmS1dvHfgU5RYFOSXBKVuaGqIpVkRj590U_s2rYigUIoNjJ/s320/FILE0015+%25281%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Finally I hit the last aid station 5 miles from the finish. I was going to make it. I trudged along over a few more hills. I could hear the cheers for finisher when I was still a good 10 minutes away. And then it was my turn. I ran the last couple hundred yards and that was that.<br />
<br />
I met my goal of finishing. I proved to myself I could still do it. The problem was that I did not have fun or enjoy this race at all. It is unfortunate because the course was so interesting and beautiful. Rolling green hills and idyllic farms throughout. Horses and cows in the pastures. I spent much of the day in a very negative place. I tried to turn in around because negativity in an ultra only drains you further.<br />
<br />
I spent a large portion of the day reconsidering my decision to run these races or even continue running ultras. I seriously thought about giving this hobby up. I felt it was meaningless. In the end what does it mean? What is good does it do?<br />
<br />
What it does is show me that even when I feel my worst, believe in myself the least, I can still somehow work my way though it. I understand now that I would have felt awful today if I had given up on that race. I would have added exponentially to that doubt from Western States. Finishing Vermont doesn't fix everything. I know I likely need a break from racing to fully recover and train properly. I have Leadville and Wasatch that I committed to and I will be at both. I will do my very best and then work on getting stronger for whatever is next. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Ultra-Dannershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03469320496498620460noreply@blogger.com1