Looking Back, Looking Ahead...

As the curtain closes on 2015, I cannot help but be amazed and abundantly grateful at the blessings that have come my way over the past 364 days. Of course my running and racing took me to some new and exciting places, introduced me to some amazing people, and helped me weather my early 40's with (I hope) some measure of grace and good health. But more importantly, I enjoyed the blessings of a family that brought joy into my life in ways that cannot be easily measured or put into words. I was surrounded by friends who both kept me grounded and inspired me to become a better person. So while the minutes, days and weeks of 2015 seemed to go by in a flash, the imprint that this past year has left in my heart will not soon evaporate.

Boston Marathon 2015

Cactus Rose 100 2015

RPR 60k 2015

More importantly than the experiences I had in 2015, I think I may have inched closer to a more authentic understanding of "who I am". That may sound a little odd at first reading, but as some of my earlier posts have alluded to, I've become convinced that life is more about "becoming" than simply "doing". We evolve, learn from our mistakes, and seek to grow in peace and understanding. We forgive, we change.....life is in a constant state of evolution which is hopefully bringing us closer to a fuller expression of our authentic selves. I have tried to forgive myself, accept my many shortcomings, and in turn allow myself to love and be loved as the flawed man that I am. I look forward to a new year of continuing this slow and sometimes difficult inward journey. 

Getting back to the subject of "doing", I believe that the business and "busy-ness" of our daily lives can make us act like drones - robots who mindlessly move from one task to the next seemingly on autopilot. The days fly by because we fill them with responsibilities, errands, and "to-do" lists that keep us busy. Make no mistake, I do a lot of things mindlessly! But I feel that at I am least beginning to develop a conscious recognition of when I am in such a place. From there, I can seek to become more invested and engaged in how I spend my time rather than simply going through the motions. 

I am reminded of a story by one of my favorite authors, Thich Nhat Hanh:

Thirty years ago, when I was still a novice at Tu Hieu Pagoda, washing the dishes was hardly a pleasant task. During the Season of Retreat when all the monks returned to the monastery, two novices had to do all the cooking and wash the dishes for sometimes well over one hundred monks.

There was no soap. We had only ashes, rice husks, and coconut husks, and that was all. Cleaning such a high stack of bowls was a chore, especially during the winter when the water was freezing cold. Then you had to heat up a big pot of water before you could do any scrubbing….

While washing the dishes one should only be washing the dishes, which means that while washing the dishes one should be completely aware of the fact that one is washing the dishes.

 At first glance, that might seem a little silly: why put so much stress on a simple thing? But that’s precisely the point. The fact that I am standing there and washing these bowls is a wondrous reality. I’m being completely myself, following my breath, conscious of my presence and conscious of my thoughts and actions. There’s no way I can be tossed around mindlessly like a bottle slapped here and there on the waves.

If while washing the dishes, we think only of the cup of tea that awaits us, thus hurrying to get the dishes out of the way as if they were a nuisance, then we are not “washing the dishes to wash the dishes.” What’s more, we are not alive during the time we are washing the dishes.

In fact we are completely incapable of realizing the miracle of life while standing at the sink. If we can’t wash the dishes, the chances are we won’t be able to drink our tea either. While drinking the cup of tea, we will only be thinking of other things, barely aware of the cup in our hands. Thus we are sucked away into the future – and we are incapable of actually living one minute of life.

As 2016 dawns and a clean slate is presented before me, this is my true "resolution" - to try to slow the seemingly breakneck pace of life, taking a more pronounced appreciation of each and every moment. I want to savor the experiences that bring color and joy to my life. Can I find joy in my morning cup of coffee? Enjoy the serenity of a long run? See the twinkle of joy in my wife's eyes? Savor the sound of my children's laughter? Gaze in awe at a sky full of predawn stars? Taste the layers of flavor in a glass of wine? And yes, even appreciate washing the dishes? 

So the question that I pose to myself this year is not what do I want to do in 2016, but who do I want to become? There are certainly new things I'd like to do - but can I approach them from a new point of view, one which sees beyond just what is on the surface? The world we live in does not appreciate depth of experience. It encourages - even celebrates - moving quickly from one activity to the next. It is a world that divides our attention and rewards those who can "multitask" : not only moving from objective A to B to C, but actually performing all tasks simultaneously. It takes little or no joy in the journey, only in getting to the destination as quickly as possible. I've certainly fallen into this rut myself many times. But I can at least recognize my desire to change and take advantage of my ability to do so. 

I look forward to more closely exploring these concepts in posts over the next year. It will be fun to relate them back to my running as well. Because make no mistake, there will be running (and posts about it) in 2016! So thanks to 2015 for a great year. Thanks to the wonderful people who made it so. I have much for which to be grateful. 

2016 has some big shoes to fill. Time to get to it!

     

Sadly the lottery gods did not smile upon me this year (again) and there will be no Western States 100 in my near future. That doesn't mean it's still not a part of my long-term plans, but in the meantime I have decided that I need to change things up a bit. To that end, I am taking a break from the trails for just for a little while.

From a mental standpoint I'm feeling a little burned out. I'm not really excited about charging full steam ahead into 2016 with 2 big ultras on the docket in the first 2 months of the year (Bandera 100k and Rocky Raccoon 100). I know I could finish them, but my hope is that by stepping back a bit I could allow my body the chance to rest and rebuild and set myself up for better races later in the year.

So it's back to the roads for a bit for me. I am looking forward to a period of some easy running and strength training for a few weeks before starting a marathon program in the spring in preparation for Boston. I'll probably throw in some shorter, faster races like 10k's and a half marathon or two along the way. The trails will still be there - in fact  I intend to fulfill my 2016 Western States qualifier at either the Wasatch Front 100 in Utah or Grindstone 100 in Virginia (part 2). But for now, a different path is before me. 

2015 Wild Hare 50 Race Report

Preparing for an ultra can be a funny thing. Much like nutrition, it's different for everyone. My tendency is to over plan: review race reports, study elevation charts and course maps, meticulously pack and repack my gear...I generally obsess over races for weeks in advance and tend to psyche myself out trying to cover each and every eventuality that could present itself on race day. After all, it's best to be prepared, right? (Somewhere there is a former Boy Scout nodding in agreement...) I'm not sure whether my propensity toward over planning has helped me perform better on race day, but if nothing else it has given me the peace of mind that I've got all my bases covered heading into an event. At least, that's what I tell myself.

Enter the 2015 Wild Hare 50 - a race that wasn't on my radar until a few days before the event and one I really knew nothing about. Not only could I not have found the tiny town of Warda, Texas on a map with 100 guesses (hint: find Waco, drop down about 100 miles S/SE), but I was still recovering after a grueling Cactus Rose 100 finish a few weeks before. I had planned to rest for the balance of November then in December start working up to on a return trip to the Bandera 100k early next year. But after having realized that I still had a qualifying race I could add to my 2015 Texas Trail Racing series portfolio, I decided "what the hell" - and thus, with no prior planning, preparation, or thought to what I might be getting myself into, I was off to try and find Warda and the Wild Hare 50.

Photo Credit: Henry Hobbs

The Course

Wild Hare is comprised of several races of various distances (10k, 25k, 50k, and 50 mile) that are run over mountain biking trails through Bluff Creek Ranch, a functioning horse ranch in sleepy Warda. The course itself is pretty straightforward: an ~8 mile loop with an aid station right at 4 miles (there is also a support station the start/finish area). There are a couple of course-correcting segments added early in the races to make sure each distance ends up where it needs to be but otherwise it's the same 8 mile loop for everyone. 

I found each 4-mile segment to have it's own unique characteristics. The first was a run through a forest entirely along single track mountain bike trails. It would repeatedly corkscrew between the trees, cutting back and forth many times over small hills with a few rocks and roots strewn along the path. It was not particularly technical. There was some light mud and a few puddles we had to navigate (including one that seemed more like a small pond) but otherwise pretty easy footing.

The nasty puddle I ran through 7 times. Yuck. (Photo credit: Libby Hallas-Jones)

After passing through the midpoint aid station, the course would run for a mile or so across some fields and pastures, leading to a rolling stretch of trail in another stand of trees. A steep but short downhill descent would mark the beginning of this roller-coaster type segment with a number of short ups and downs that would culminate in a stand of tall pine trees, short footbridges and finally return us to the start/finish area. The final 3/4-mile or so of each loop involved running right through the middle of the campground, which was filled with friends, family, and crew for the runners, through a small quaint barn/stable, across the timing mat and into an aid station area.  

Just a couple thoughts about the course and the setup: This is not a technical course and there is very little elevation to worry about. Mud could be a problem if the weather is poor, but fortunately that wasn't an issue this year. Otherwise the layout of the course could lend itself to fast times. The camping setup at Bluff Creek Ranch was as good as I have seen for any race I have attended. Like I said, the race runs right through the campgrounds, which are spacious and situated near a small pond surrounded by beautiful pine trees. If I return to run this race again there is no doubt I would camp. The 2 aid stations at the start/finish line and the midpoint are actually only separated by a short walk of a couple hundred yards, so it would be a very easy race at which to crew/spectate. (The course map can be found here.) This event is very friendly to campers, families, and friends who want to be there to take it in and offer support to the runners. We had great weather this year and it looked to me like the spectators and crew-folk had a good time cheering everyone on. 

Race Summary

Given that I was able to rely on some habits earned over the course of several previous races of this distance and longer, preparation was not a huge issue on race day. I car-camped overnight and actually parked my car very near the barn. Since I ran right by it on each loop I could utilize it for needed wardrobe adjustments and as a place to stash/switch out my gear. It was extremely convenient and allowed for a little extra latitude in handling any issues that would come up. I basically rolled in with a handheld, my Huma gels, a few extra supplies, and left some extra clothes in my car (the race day weather forecast was uncertain, even though it ended up being a perfect day). It was a much more minimal approach than I have taken in past races. Honestly, I found it refreshing to just "roll out and go".

The day presented an opportunity to run with old friends, make new friends, and enjoy what turned out to be a perfect day for running. While there were a few sprinkles in the morning and some stretches of the trail were muddy (see the "puddle of death" above), the sun did eventually come out, the footing was generally fine, and the cool north breezes made the day very pleasant. Many of the smaller puddles dried up and footing was not a problem. I was able to run comfortably for much of the day - sometimes with companions, sometimes alone - and the miles just ticked by. On a loop course it's easy to get into a zone, and this one was no different; yet, there were still enough changes in the scenery to keep it interesting.

Photo credit: Libby Halas-Jones.

I stuck with my nutrition plan of 200 cal/hour and on this day that plan worked perfectly. I had no real issues with energy. The Huma gels that I tried for the first time at Cactus were fantastic. If something went awry I had several packets of Tailwind with me, but they weren't needed for this race.

The one thing I could not really shake was the fatigue in my legs that crept in as the day drew on. I was actually pleasantly surprised that I was able to make it for 30+ miles before I really felt it, but the combined efforts of a long training cycle, several races over the past year, and a tough 100-miler only a few weeks prior caught up to me. I was able to maintain a steady pace at the end but any extra "boost" in my legs had all but vanished.

That being said, I was happy to bring it in in under 10 hours. After an up-and-down year I was very pleased to finish on a bit of a high note. I accomplished my hastily devised goals for this race (finish in under 10 hours and don't get injured) and still snag a top-10 overall. It was a great day, made better by the fantastic people who ran, organized, cheered, and volunteered. I'd love to go back to Warda someday, maybe even with a little more preparation and planning....       

(finishing pic coming soon!)

Thoughts on Cactus Rose 100

Cactus Rose 100

The past month has seen many comings and goings for me, most notably the passing of summer and the advent of autumn (awesome!) and another major running adventure in the hill country of central Texas. I chose not to write my typically detailed post-race recap for Cactus Rose 100 this year because the race followed much the same pattern as my other endurance races - a good start, a few wobbles, a major crash, a rebound, then a charge to the finish. I'm starting to sound like a broken record. Recounting what seems like a string of difficulties on the way to a buckle (in this case, extremely poor weather for much of the race left over from a passing hurricane, difficult course conditions, running well for a while, suffering electrolyte depletion resulting in painful cramps and back spasms, giving up at mile 75, checking back in an hour later, grinding out a finish in 30 hours) is becoming redundant; suffice it to say, it was a tough day. But then again, I'm still looking for a 100-mile race report that gives the impression that ANY race of that distance was easy, regardless of the course or conditions. 

I recently read a blog post from a fellow 100-mile finisher that summed up the mental side of these races very well:

The crux of a 100 are the mental games we play in the wee hours as our mind wrestles with the decision to quit or not, and this is what makes 50 miles categorically different than 100. Just about anyone who can complete a 50 in 12 hours can also complete a 100 in 30. It's not really a factor of extra training. 50s are little more than a feat of physical endurance, but what gets you from 50 to 100 is between your ears.

Here's a concrete example that we hear all the time, given as an excuse to quit: "It stopped being fun." That person played the 100 mile mental game, and lost. The point of a 100 is to continue even when it sucks. Don't like it? You should have entered a 50.

And that's the special appeal that 100 milers have. That's what makes 100s unique. Most beginning ultrarunners think 100s are merely a next step from the marathon or 50. But I've completed the 100-mile distance eleven times now - and let me tell you - 100s still intimidate the hell out of me. They're an exercise in getting over everything you're dealing with - mentally - and continuing towards the goal no matter what. It takes a massive amount of mental energy, so much in fact that I can't do more than a few per year. I simply don't have the mental capacity. Right now I'm sore and tight and achy and can't walk very well, and those are expected outward manifestations of having run an ultra. But what may not be obvious is that I'm just as exhausted mentally as I am physically.

-Steven Tursi (http://stevetursi.blogspot.com/)

I couldn't agree more. 

Reece, Me, Matt, Aaron

Cactus Rose #2

Finishing...

Going back to Cactus....

In light of the demise of my Grindstone 100 plans, I've shifted my focus toward a return to the hills of central Texas for Cactus Rose 100 later this month. I think that from a physical fitness standpoint I am in a pretty good place right now. After my difficult 30-hour epic ordeal from last year I think I still have something to prove to myself out there. As it stands right now I'll be following the same schedule as late 2014-early 2015: Cactus Rose 100 in a few weeks, followed by a few weeks of rest before I gear up for the gauntlet of the Bandera 100k in January, Rocky Raccoon 100 in February, and Boston Marathon in April. I'm looking forward to improving on my ultra distance races and then seeing how things shake out in Boston. I think I may have worked a few things out in training that could help - not to mention I've spent the summer preparing for a mountain race. We'll see how it comes together on race day.

Grindstone....Cancelled!

I shake my fist at you, Joaquin!

While I've heard that in Hartford, Hereford and Hampshire, hurricanes hardly ever happen, apparently in Virginia this is not the case. Sadly, Grindstone 100 was cancelled this year on account of one such hurricane. It seems that the uncertainty of the direction of the newly minted Hurricane Joaquin has given the US Forest Service in Virginia pause, and the risks of flooding and severe weather appear too great to allow our race (or anything else for that matter) to move forward this weekend.

It's a tough one, but I know that the folks who had to make the call are taking everyone's safety into account. Ultrarunners are by nature a hardscrabble bunch but the last thing anyone wants is a story in the news about someone getting swept away in a flash flood.

So it's time to move on. I don't consider my summer of training to be for naught though. I am looking at a couple of other races over the coming weeks that could fit the schedule for a fall 100 miler. Right now the most likely candidate seems to be Cactus Rose 100, which would set the stage for another run at the Tejas 300. I'm having a hard time getting over the "been there, done that" feeling though. I would like to have a chance to improve upon my time at Cactus Rose from last year, so there's that. We'll see. 

In the mean time, it's back to training for me.


UPDATE:

Thanks to some last-minute efforting on the part of the RD, the race will take place after all - one week later. Unfortunately my schedule doesn't allow me to travel that weekend so I'll put this race on the shelf and thanks to a deferred entry and reduced entry fee keep it in the bag as a possibility for 2016. Hopefully the trails will be clear and dry for the runners on race day!

Things are looking up!

I've got to admit it's getting better,

A little better all the time....

-The Beatles

I'm pleased to report that things are healing up nicely after the tough race of a couple weeks ago. The scratches and scrapes have almost disappeared, the aches and pains suffered at the hands of the rocks at Reveille Peak Ranch are healing up, and I've been able to resume challenging workouts again. This week saw most of my efforts focused on the treadmill as I have been working on climbing - incline workouts at 12% and higher, mainly hiking, but with a little running thrown in. I've been able to top 3,000' of climbing with each workout which has helped me from a mental standpoint in that I feel a little more prepared for the long climbs I'll face in Virginia. 

While my logistical preparations for the race are still in the early stages - I still have not decided on a nutrition plan, I am still collecting information about the aid stations, and as of now I do not have a pacer - I am at least starting to feel like I will at least approach the starting line rested and healthy. I'll pick up the mileage a bit this week and next, aiming for the 60 mile range before easing off on race week. There's not much I can do now except maintain my current level of fitness. There's no reason to risk getting injured or over trained while trying to cram in too many miles in advance of race day.

I made a comment to close my race recap at Reveille Peak Ranch that may have given the impression that I may not be completely confident in my abilities to rise to the occasion and meet this upcoming challenge. While I thought about editing it, I let it stand; the fact is, I don't exactly know how I am going to get there and back again. But I am working on it. Physically, I can do it. Mentally, I can do it. What it will come down to is a matter of working through the plan and showing up ready to let my body do what it knows how to do. To relax, remain in the moment, and grind it out. 

I've been reading over a few race reports and trail recon posts that go into some detail about the technicality of the course and the challenges of the frequent climbs and descents. I'll begin my preparations accordingly. I borrowed a couple of trail pics to add below. I look forward to taking some of my own pictures to tell the story of this amazing event. 

I'm excited about getting this process started! Or as Sherlock Holmes would say, "The game is afoot!!"

Wild Oak Trail. (valhallase.com)

Reddish Knob. (iseetrails.wordpress.com)

A breathtaking view of the Virginia mountains. (http://changultraadventures.blogspot.com/2014/10/grindstone-100-race-report-2014.html)

Reveille Peak Ranch 60k Race Report

I've spent the better part of a week trying to figure out what went wrong at Reveille Peak Ranch last weekend. It was a 60k in the Captain Karl's series of night time races that was meant to be a training run for me - an opportunity to work on my nutrition and hydration, get some quality miles in at night, and take me a step closer to the next big race on the schedule in a few weeks. While I wish I could say I accomplished my goals - ANY of my goals - it turned out to be a major disappointment in just about every way possible. 

While the track itself was somewhat technical (large rocks littered the course, and then there's the granite dome that I will get to shortly), it was not particularly difficult. Many rolling hills along the way would provide a few thousand feet of cumulative elevation gain but nothing overly rigorous. I thought it was well-marked, straightforward, and with the aid stations only a few short miles apart, should have been relatively easy to navigate. We would run 3 loops at around 12.5 miles per loop so there would be ample opportunity to restock at the main lodge area as well. I guess that's why the saying goes "that's why they play the game" because what seemed easy enough for me on paper certainly did not play out that way.

All smiles at the start with Brian and Josh

The course began along a dirt service road which led for a few miles to what is one of the more interesting geological formations you'll see in this part of the world - a large exposed mound of pure granite that almost resembles a large lava flow, extending in many different directions like fingers along the trail. It's like a giant granite boulder was dropped in the middle of west Texas cactus and mesquite trees. We would run around and over the dome for a few miles then proceed back on to single track for the rest of each loop, eventually returning us to the lodge.

My troubles began almost immediately as it seemed that despite my diligence to paying attention to the trail, I was kicking and tripping over rocks at an irritatingly high rate. I took a couple of early falls as well - nothing painful, with landings on sand and dirt, allowing me to dust myself off and continue quickly - but it was certainly enough to unnerve me. I slowed my pace and began to feel frustrated with my poor footwork. Each rock I kicked would set off a cavalcade of curses as I bounced from one side of the trail to the other, looking for smoother sailing that would allow me to pick up the pace.

As I reached the granite dome the landscape changed dramatically. Highway reflectors would be used to guide us up and over this slab of rock that was devoid of plant life. I was able to run relatively comfortably on the dome, as the surface had been worn down by years of weather and human traffic to a relatively smooth exterior that was, dare I say, almost like a road. Perhaps I became a little too comfortable running over the dome because not long after the trail began to head downhill, with me moving at a decent clip in an effort to make up a little time lost earlier on, my right foot caught a rock. And thus, my first "major" fall of the day. There was nothing to grab onto to help slow me down as I fell. As I hit the ground I plowed right in to a small cluster of rocks on the trail. I laid in the dirt for a moment to collect myself as a few other runners stopped to check on me. I wish I could say that the only thing I had wounded was my pride, but sadly this was not the case. I was skinned up on both knees and on my right arm. Blood and dirt caked my legs as I shakily stood back up. My right knee had hit a rock straight on and was deeply bruised. Everything from my waist to my ankles was either bleeding, cut, or bruised, and everything above the waist wasn't much better. And to make matters worse, I was only around 8 miles in. 

So that was how things began, and while I wish I could say they could only get better, they really didn't. I took several more hard falls, dealt with a sour stomach all night, and basically ended up hiking much more of the course than I intended. A good man at one of the aid stations (the great Texas Yeti himself) graciously helped clean the dirt and rocks out of my wounds, while others helped with words of encouragement and support. I appreciated the sentiment but my night was still a struggle. 

As I wound my way through the second loop of this treacherous track the one and only thought that kept me moving was my intention to finish this loop, drop out of the race, get myself cleaned up, and find some hot food. There was no thought to completing the 60k. None at all. Upon completing loop 2, as I sat in my chair, I can't say exactly what compelled to me to get up again and head back out for another 12.5 mile slog over that crazy terrain. I knew for a fact it was going to be a long, slow hike. Perhaps I was just stubborn, not wanting to go 0-for-3 at Captain Karl. I didn't think my night could get any worse, and I guess my frustration fueled the fire that kept me going. 

In the end I limped across the finish line in just under 10 hours. All in all, RPR sent me home beaten and broken. (As I write this several days later I am still recovering from my injuries from that race and haven't run a step since.)

As I look back on the day I think there may have been a couple of mistakes that "could" have altered the outcome of my race. (Maybe, maybe not.) First of all, this was my first real run in my new pair of Altra Lone Peak 2.0 shoes. I am a huge fan of the Altra brand, but it seemed that there was something about the wider toe box on these particular shoes almost made me feel like I had clown feet all night. Whether I was walking or running, I was kicking roots and tripping over rocks seemingly constantly. I won't say that I haven't ever had that much trouble getting along down a trail but it has been a long time since it was that bad. It hasn't caused me to completely abandon these shoes but I'll certainly be casting wary glances in their direction for a while. 

The second problem I may have suffered was in my nutrition. (This seems to be a "thing" for me.) I have had success recently using Tailwind products, which provide around 200 calories in simple carbohydrate when mixed with ~20 oz of water. It tastes great, doesn't upset my stomach, and for a shorter race like this should be all I need. The trouble is that when I would go through aid stations, I would allow volunteers to refill my water bottles - thereby diluting my tailwind ratios. After a while I lost track of what I had in my bottles, and since my pace was so much slower than I anticipated, I wasn't getting the calories that I thought I was. Looking back it seems like a simple enough thing to fix but at the time my mind was on other problems. This should have been a simple fix but once again I spent the night trying to play calorie catch-up on an already sour stomach.

I have been forced into a week long break as I continue to recover from various issues brought on by last week's race. My previously shaky confidence has been further diminished by this showing. I really do not know what my last few weeks of training will hold, or whether I will even be able to get the kind of quality workouts in between now and Grindstone that could restore some of that confidence. All that there is now is a trail in Virginia, in which I will need to somehow get from point A, to point B, then back to point A.

Right now, I have absolutely no idea how I am going to do that.

Climbing the Mountain

Digging deep. (www.mattmahoney.net)

A while back I offered a few thoughts on motivation - specifically, what is it that drives me and other like-minded idiots who seem to enjoy spending their free time running for hours and days upon end over mountains and through seemingly endless woods? Are we driven by recognition from others for our efforts? The thrill of it all? The swag? Or simply the personal satisfaction of pushing our own boundaries and accomplishing things that we once thought to be impossible?

I feel that most of my motivation is still extrinsic. As much as I hate to admit it, I am definitely an ego-driven individual. I consider internalizing my motivations to be an important step in my desire to let go of my own ego but it is certainly a journey that I am still on and seemingly far from completing. I recently came across a passage in the book "Zen and the Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance" by Robert Pirsig that struck me in which the narrator describes an experience involving a pilgrimage to a holy mountain in India. The subject of the story was in the company of devout pilgrims who were there to climb this mountain out of religious devotion, which he contrasted with his subject's own egocentric motivations:

"He never reached the mountain. After the third day he gave up, exhausted, and the pilgrimage went on without him. He said he had the physical strength but that physical strength wasn't enough. He had the intellectual motivation but that wasn't enough either. He didn't think he had been arrogant but thought that he was undertaking the pilgrimage to broaden his experience, to gain understanding for himself. He was trying to use the mountain for his own purposes and the pilgrimage too. He regarded himself as the fixed entity, not the pilgrimage or the mountain, and thus wasn't ready for it. He speculated that the other pilgrims, the ones who reached the mountain, probably sensed the holiness of the mountain so intensely that each footstep was an act of devotion,an act of submission to this holiness. The holiness of the mountain infused into their own spirits enabled them to endure far more than anything he, with his greater physical strength, could take.

To the untrained eye, ego-climbing and selfless climbing may appear identical. Both kinds of climbers place one foot in front of the other. Both breathe in and out at the same rate. Both stop when tired. Both go forward when rested. But what a difference! The ego-climber is like an instrument that is out of adjustment. He puts his foot down an instant too soon or too late. He's likely to miss a beautiful passage of sunlight through the trees. He goes on when the sloppiness of his step shows he is tired. He rests at odd times. He looks up the trail to see what's ahead even though he knows what's ahead because he just looked a second before. He goes too fast or too slow for the conditions and when he talks his talk is forever about somewhere else, something else. He's here but he's not here. He rejects the here, is unhappy with it, wants to be further up the trail but when he gets there he will be just as unhappy because then it will be 'here'. What he's looking for, what he wants, is all around him, but he doesn't want that because it is all around him. Every step is an effort, both physically and spiritually, because he imagines his goal to be external and distant."

There is so much in this passage that I can identify with, both on the trail and, in a larger sense, my daily life. I have a feeling I am going to spend a good bit of time trying to unpack this passage for myself. I can appreciate its reinforcement of the idea of truly being "in the moment." As it relates specifically to my running experiences, I have noticed a marked difference between the days when I am running for glory and gusto versus the days when I am content to embrace the experience itself without expectation, accepting whatever lessons the day might bring. The former tends to be both physically and mentally exhausting, while the latter is actually invigorating and can even be restorative. 

Like I said, I could go on about the implications for this reflection in my "day-to-day" but I think I'll leave that for another post. I have trail races over the next 2 weekends that I am using as training runs for October's main event. Perhaps I can use these runs as preparation for the mind as well as for the body - as opportunities to work on releasing my ego, becoming more like those selfless climbers described above. 

I think I'll close with a thought from Thich Nhat Hanh, one of my favorite writers whom I have referenced many times before in my blog:

Cheers, and happy trails!

Playing in the Wasatch Range

Lovely stock photo...(Source)

I had the supremely good fortune to spend a few days last week with a good friend on the Wasatch Front Trail near Salt Lake City, Utah. Running and hiking the trails in the high country is good for my soul, even though I struggled a bit with the steep climbs and high altitude. Salt Lake City is quite a beautiful city tucked into the foothills of the Wasatch mountain range and appears to have a very active outdoorsy-type of population (at least from what I was able to see). It seems like a pleasant enough place to live, especially for the outdoor enthusiast. 

The week provided me with some decent training time of my own as I enter the final few weeks before Grindstone. I must say that while my training has been spot-on, my confidence is pretty shoddy right now. Getting up many of the climbs proved much more difficult than I would have hoped; however I was able to get over a couple climbs in excess of 1000'/mile and collected over 12,000' of climbing for the week. Not too bad. But humbling nonetheless. It appears that flatlanders like me are generally not predisposed to handling the rugged features and relentless climbing found on mountain ranges!! It is what it is though - onward and upward.

Another blogger posted a race plan for this weekend's Leadville 100 that was brilliant in it's simplicity. I believe I will adopt the same for my race in October.

1. When I can, I will run.

2. When I can't run, I will walk.

3. I will eat as much as my glass stomach will allow me to.

4. I will hit Winfield [Reddish Knob Turn Around] around the time I get there.

5. My goal finish time is whenever I cross the finish line.

(Source Here)

Here are some trail pics from a beautiful part of the world:

  

8 Weeks to Grindstone

Tonight I clicked over to my training schedule for the week and my attention was immediately drawn to the header: "8 weeks to Grindstone."

To quote from the event's website: "Grit, endurance, temporary loss of sanity. You might need all of these if you want to attempt Grindstone. If you want to finish, well, just keep in mind this is, without a doubt, the hardest 100 miler east of the 100th meridian. Now that you’re hooked, Grindstone is going to be an incredible adventure for each and every entrant. From the beautiful start/finish location at Camp Shenandoah to the monster climbs and the solitude of single track ridge running, you just can’t beat Grindstone… but you can try!"

Gulp. I am happy to say that my training has been progressing quite well - I feel good, my weekly mileage has gradually increased over the past couple months from 40, to 50, 60, and now 70 mpw. I'll step it back this week to rest, then push on toward 80 and maybe even get to 90 before the tapering starts. And yet the voice in the back of my head is asking, "Is it enough?"

The challenge in preparing for this race is that, well, there really is no way for me to adequately prepare for this race. I can work on long slow climbs using a treadmill, but that won't simulate the extreme technicality of the course. I can get on some local fire roads that are steep and rocky, but they are very short and don't offer sustained climbs that will remotely resemble what I'll face on race day. 

All I can do in this case is prepare in the best way that I am able and bring whatever game I have to the race. It'll be an exercise in grit and determination, with a pinch or 2 of positive thinking thrown in for good measure. I'll have to remember the mantras: "Trust your training." "Have a plan and work your plan." "One step at a time." "Run your own race." 

They say the race itself is simply the end of a very long road that began with the start of this training cycle a few months ago. All the miles on the roads and trails, all the hours in the weight room, they all will bring me to that final 100 miles. It's just up to me to finish it. Would that I have the strength and perseverance to do so. 

Running In Circles - Fossil Valley 6 Hour Race Report

Cedar Ridge Preserve (or CRP, as it is known locally) is one of the many Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex's urban recreation parks that has found a way into the hearts of area hikers, mountain bikers, and trail enthusiasts. Located in a hilly suburb just south of downtown Dallas, CRP played host to a 3, 6, and 9 hour timed event on a trail loop last weekend that ran from late Saturday night and into the early Sunday morning hours. Having been a little short on trail time in my current training cycle - plus needing to purge myself of the bitter aftertaste of another painful DNF at Pedernales Falls 60k a few weeks ago - I threw my name in the hat for the 6 hour event a few days before the race with the intention of getting a decent training run in. 

The Course

The course itself consisted of a 2.7 mile loop that surprised me in its moderate difficulty and technicality. Most timed events I was familiar with were on relatively flat, even, wide surfaces that offered little elevation change outside of perhaps stepping over a curb or the occasional root. They were the antithesis of technical. Not so here. The first half mile of the loop was flat and easy, but not long after, the trail would narrow and begin a series of rocky descents that required my complete attention. There was no loose debris, but the rocks and roots that protruded from the ground could easily catch the wary runner and lead to a painful crash if care was not taken. After 2 or 3 of these short descents, we crossed a small wooden bridge that would signal the start of the first of 2 moderate climbs in each loop. The first hill wasn't particularly long, but it was steep, and seemed to get steeper as the night wore on. After cresting this hill, the course would roll along through the woods and around a pond along a dusty trail that was not particularly technical or difficult until we reached a second climb - a set of switchbacks and stairs that would lead us out of this small valley. This was a more difficult climb than the first, and again, though not particularly long, it would seem to increase in difficulty with each passing loop. 

Step it up!

After this last climb, the course would flatten out and lead to a wide fire road that brought us back to the start/finish area and the course's only aid station. In the end, each loop offered around 320' in elevation gain - which may not seem like much, but it added up.

My Race (Short Version)

Given that it's July in North Texas, heat and humidity would be factors that would be in play all night. It wasn't exactly stifling but I was completely drenched by the end of my first loop. I felt surprisingly good given the 10 pm starting time (my typical bedtime!) and cruised  though the aid station area on my first couple loops without stopping. But as the night progressed, I grew to appreciate the hospitality of this little outpost and its tireless volunteers. Given the warm conditions, I was careful to make sure I was ingesting enough salt and electrolytes to carry me through the night. I was moving well, and despite the occasional bottleneck in the trail, felt like I was making good time on each loop. I was plugged in to my music (more on that later) and was very relaxed. 

At the starting line!

Leaving the aid station, heading on to the trail...

I had several friends running this event as well but we were separated not long after the start of the race. My family hung out at the start/finish area for the first half of my race which was a definite mental boost for me. After they left, I had many other friends who picked me up and kept me going through the night.

My goal was to finish 10 loops/27 miles.  But as the race went on, it became apparent that I would finish my 10 loops well ahead of the 6 hour cutoff. It was difficult to tell where I stood in the overall standings but I had a feeling I was in a pretty good place and might consider adding a loop just to improve my position a little. Rolling into the start/finish area after 10 loops in around 5 hours ans 22 minutes (it was 3:22 am)  and still feeling good, I decided I would give it one more loop and see how that went. I hurried through the aid station, refilling my water bottle and grabbing a snack. I ran quickly but comfortably, considering that I might actually have 2 loops left in me if I could get back before the cutoff at 4 am. I knocked out #11 in under 30 minutes and left myself room to head out again and try to improve my position in the race.

As it turned out, another loop didn't help me gain any ground on the winner or lose any ground to the field. I did enjoy it though, and after it was all sorted out, I finished the 6 hour event with 12 loops (32.28 miles) in around 6 hours and 29 minutes and in 2nd place overall. I was very pleased with the end result considering I never pushed too hard; in fact, keeping a relaxed mind and body may have actually helped me perform better in the warm, humid environment.

Afterwards I enjoyed the company of some excellent people as we watched the sun rise, feasted on some hot breakfast foods, and consumed a few cold beverages.           

A Few Takeaways

#1. As I just mentioned, I think remaining relaxed throughout the race definitely helped me perform better. I was never certain where I stood in the field as I was passing and being passed by people in the various events taking place on the trail for most of the night. I had also lost touch with my friends whom I had assumed would be near the front, so I had no idea what was going on. I was literally just running my own race. If I can keep this in mind in the future I might not only find more enjoyment from the event, I may even find myself a little higher in the standings. ("Run your own race." I should put that on a t-shirt or something.)

#2. I like to listen to music when I run. I know that's a hot topic amongst runners, particularly trail runners, who generally prefer to run without being plugged in. But it works for me. I find that in measured doses it relaxes my mind and body and pushes me to perform. (Or at least I believe it does. It may be a placebo. But either way.) I jammed during this trail run and I feel like it helped me run harder. So if I am running alone, I'll probably be rocking out. 

#3. I am a very weak climber. Very weak. This is something I need to work on. I struggle mightily on anything remotely vertical. This will be a problem in October. On anything flat or downhill, I can kill it. But climbs? Not so much.

#4. Lastly, I rarely (if ever) drink sodas anymore, but coca-cola is a godsend in the middle of the night. Between the simple sugar and the caffeine it was the nectar of the gods. I would love to sit here and say I am a purist, and that I made it all night on Tailwind and fruit - but the fact is that when I had a stomach issue or was feeling sleepy, Coke helped. It was great. 


So, on to the next one! I have a busy month of training set up for August, including several days of running and hiking in the Wasatch mountains. (FUN!) I may throw in another race between now and Grindstone but the priority now will be on working to improve my climbing ability and alternating increasing mileage in the Texas summer heat with recovery.