Running and Love

(This post is long but if I've ever posted anything on this blog that's worth your time this might be it):

For most of this year I've been noticing a change in the relation between my life, my training, and my racing. It's been a very slow change that's been hard for me to understand but I think I'm finally starting to process it and put it together into real, concrete thoughts. Having the race I did at Wasatch (i.e. a performance which shocked and confused me with how fast I ran) has helped a lot with forcing me to look for some of these things which I've been able to feel for awhile now, but have been unable, until now, to put a finger on. Basically my performance at Wastach, and to a lesser degree at Crow Pass in July has forced me to confront the question, why am I running so much faster now than I was just 6 months or a year ago?

It's easy to attribute it to the fact that I'm quite new to racing ultras and that I'm just learning the ropes and still on the steep section of the bell curve. I think there is some truth to that, but I really don't think that's all of it.

Things changed for me a lot after my Miwok disaster in May. I was planning to run either Western States or Hardrock this summer. With my DNF at Miwok I no longer had the option of running Western States, but for some reason my focus didn't ever concentrate itself on Hardrock. After Miwok I took some time off from running altogether and when my mind drifted back around I found that I didn't have any desire to "train" for my next "big race." Instead I just wanted to run. I wanted to run when I felt like it, where I felt like it, with almost no specificity toward preparing myself for my next race. I decided to flow with this mentality for awhile and kind of assumed that shortly I'd come back around to my usual pattern of training to prepare myself for my next race.

We had one of the most perfect summer's imaginable in Juneau this year (weather wise), and instead of my mind coming back toward more specific training, it just kept wandering more and more.

This was June. I decided I didn't really have the focus to do Hardrock so when my spot on the waitlist came up I quietly declined, and to some extent wondered whether I would ever seriously race again. And yet day after day, week after week, I was having more fun running than I ever had. I stopped planning runs more than a few hours in advance, unless I was trying to coordinate something with others. I would get out of work and decide where I wanted to run based on the weather at the time and how I felt at the time. I stopped running on roads altogether. I started climbing up to mountain ridges almost everyday. And I began to run almost everyday with other people that I had previously only run with once in awhile. By mid summer I began to notice this trend of finishing runs, sometimes as often as 4 or 5 days a week in which I felt like I had just done one of my favorite training runs ever.

The time came to race Crow Pass and I had all kinds of doubts about whether my body was anywhere near being physically ready to run as fast as I knew I'd need to win that race. I hadn't afterall done any kind of speed work since April! And then I ran Crow Pass, still convinced that it might be my last serious race ever, and shattered the course record in a race that has been around for almost 30 years. What the hell? That was a bit confusing, but I figured it was an exception, that I just happened to have a really good day, and was aided hugely by having another runner work with me and push me to such a fast time.

After recovering from Crow Pass I decided I was definitely going to run Wasatch and I began to convince myself that maybe I could stay with this approach of having my running be about my training, not about my racing. Instead of training for a specific race and tailoring my training for that race, I realized that for a few months I had been training for me, for love, for happiness, to share my experiences in the mountains with friends, and because it had become my favorite thing to do. No longer was the racing the focal point of my running, but rather the racing was becoming just an expression of me and who I am.

Instead of 5 or 6 of my weekly runs feeling like dutiful training, with one or two really fun runs a week, the scales had turned completely. Suddenly almost every run I did left me thinking, "wow, that was one of my favorite runs ever." I think 90% or more of "my favorite runs ever" occurred in June, July, August, and September of this year!

Going into Wasatch I still had some serious doubts as to whether this kind of general, passionate, heartfelt, but completely unscientific style of training could really get the job done on race day. Obviously my performance in Wasatch did away with these doubts and I've spent most of the past week trying to figure out why this has worked so well.

In a post earlier this year (Ironically, less than one week after Miwok) titled "Why I Run," I talked about being so into running because it was something that was 100% me, and what I got out of running (from a performance standpoint) was entirely up to what I put into. It's shocking to me how far off base this seems to me now, only 4 months later.

As I came to really love my training runs more and more this summer I found myself wanting to share these runs with others. For my entire running career I have been a solo runner. Until this year well over 95% of the running I did was by myself and that was the way I liked it. I always equated running with others with making it impossible for me to do exactly the run, at exactly the pace that I wanted to do. Even when I wanted people to run with me in the past, I was unwilling to deviate much from my training schedule so I ended up running solo because no one wanted to go to the track with me and run 30 quarter mile repeats, or spend their entire Saturday afternoon plugging along on the slushy shoulder of the road for 30+ miles. Now though I am willing to be entirely flexible in my training and this makes it really easy to find people to run with because I can work around their interests.

And so, for the first time in my life, I really began to share my running with others. The snowball effect that occurred was subtle at first, but eventually it became too obvious to ignore. The love I had found for training; for being in the mountains; and for life in general became contagious and almost everyone that I was running with was enjoying their running as much or more than ever:

My roommate had hardly ever run in his life until this year and after a summer of running up in the mountains a few days a week he ended up coming down to Utah and crewing/pacing almost 30 miles of the Wasatch race.

My most reliable training partner this year has been a guy who has lived in Juneau for 50 years. At age 70 I'm pretty sure he spent more time up on mountain ridges above town this summer than he ever has in his life.

My friend who I ran with a bit in the spring, before she moved away from Juneau, is now running more than she ever has in her life, and when I talk to her about her running she has more excitement about it and dedication to it than I would have ever imagined her having.

Another friend of mine who I only ran with a few times before she moved away from Juneau last month has such an obvious mindset to be good at ultras. The first run we ever did together I told her we might be out for as long as 3 hours. When we ended up being out for 7 (the last 3 of which were after dark with no lights and blazing our own trail through thick underbrush) I figured I'd never hear from her again. Instead she calls me regularly to chat about the crazy runs she's been doing since she left Juneau. I know she has put in at least three 30+ mile days in the past month and before that she had never run further than a marathon.

My friend who I ran with once or twice a week in preparation for Crow Pass got himself into the best shape of his life leading up to that race and took 20 minutes off his time from last year, more than twice as much time as I took off from my Crow Pass previous best time.

My ex-girlfriend has never been a runner. Dating me for 8 years probably made her even less likely to run since I made running seem so specific, laborious, and anything but fun. After we split up this spring though she ended up spending the second half of her summer doing several mountain runs around Juneau. I don't claim any credit for influencing her to do this but I do hope that we get to run together in the mountains sometime in the future, something that neither one of us would have ever wanted to do together until now (and maybe she still wouldn't want to) that we actually have an interest in running for some of the same reasons.

I ran a few times this summer with some of Juneau's high school runners. When I was in high school 70 minutes was a "long" run. These kids however would go up into the mountains with me on 3-5 hour runs and love every minute of it. I would have died from doing that when I was that age.

Then there's my friend who refuses to go running with me (I'm still holding out hope that she'll come around eventually), and I don't really think that I've influenced her running in any significant way, but she became so interested in and so supportive of my running as being an extension of who I am that almost continually throughout Wasatch I could feel her running with me. And when it got late and I was really tired I actually had halucinations a few times that she was sitting on the side of the trail.

Anyway, so I know some people who run, and I ran with some of them this summer, and we had fun doing it. Big deal. That's how I would have seen it even just a month ago. I realize now though that this is a big deal. As I ran with these people more and more it forced me to deviate almost entirely from any kind of specific training. And all the while I've become significantly faster than ever before. The only way that I can explain this is that I'm not alone in my running anymore, and that simply having a pure and genuine love for the running that I do on a day to day basis has made me faster than any track workouts or tempo runs ever have. I have influenced people around me with my running more this year than ever before, and their love for their running, their love for themselves, and thier love for me has come back to me ten fold, and made me even that much stronger, happier, and ultimately faster. For the first time in my life I have opened myself up to the idea of letting others influence my running and the result has been an undeniable positive effect.

At the end of the day I very much still ackowledge that it takes a serious amount of "training" to run Wasatch in 18.5 hours or Crow Pass in under 3 hours, but it's been a shocking, and very comforting revelation to realize that, with being more willing to accept the help of others that this "training" can be so much more fun than I ever imagined. And that by having fun doing it, and coming to love the process of it more than ever, and coming to love myself and the people around me more than ever, that I am now faster than ever. I also think it's worth noting that my shockingly fast times in Crow Pass and Wasatch both included other runners (Eric Strabel and Karl Meltzer respectively) pushing me with record shattering performances of their own. In the same way that I have learned to open up my "training" to being influenced by other people in my life, I think it's only fitting that it was with the "aid" of other racers that I was able to run as fast as I did in these races.

I also ackowledge that this idea applies less and less as you talk about racing shorter and shorter distances, but for something as long as 50 or 100 miles I'm convinced that the most important thing to have in your arsenal is a genuine love for your running and a willingness to share this love with others and to let them share their love with you. If you have this everything else you need can fall into place naturally.

I know this might sound like a lot of emotional, sappy, hippy bull shit but I would challenge anyone to give it a try and see what you find out. Throw away your training schedule, find a mountain and run up it. The next day find another mountain and run up it. Once you fall in love with doing that share this love with others. It can be that simple. At least it has been for me.

Next Up?

I've recovered nicely from Wasatch. Spent the past 4 days down in Southern Utah. First just relaxing for a couple days and then doing a 2 day backpacking trip in Escalante National Monument the past 2 days. Feeling good and recovered and ready to check out how running feels again. I'll get out for a short one today and then plan to get together sometime tomorrow with Karl for a run in the mountains. I'll try to put in one long run either Sunday or Monday (3 or 4 hours) and then start to rest up again for The Bear 100 which I'm running one week from tomorrow.

I've had the Bear in the back of my mind all summer but decided that I would not make a decision on it until a few days after Wasatch. I figured my body could be ready for it but I wasn't sure where my mind would be. I feel now though like my mind is ready to run another 100 miler. In fact I think my mind may benefit a lot from running another 100 miler right now. Almost like I "need" another really long run before my mind will be ready to head back to my life in Alaska. This said, I don't think my mind is ready to race another one, but rather to run one pretty relaxed and mellow. I think this will be really good for me right now. My competitive interest may change 30 or 40 miles into the race, but for now I'm definitely approaching the Bear as a "fun run" and as a test to see just how my body can respond to such effort just two weeks after something like Wasatch.

Now I just need to figure out what to do with myself for the next week. Can't decide whether to chill here in Salt Lake, head up to the mountains, or back down to the desert. I guess I'll probably end up going with a combination of the three.

Wasatch Race Report - The Full Version

I always hate the week or two before a big race. I imagine all kinds of problems with my health, both mental or physical health. With this race I never really had that though. I felt great all of the time leading up to this race. I was in Colorado for two weeks getting used to high elevation and then in Utah for a week getting everything in line for the race. I never felt stressed about it though and come the morning of the race I felt very calm and prepared.

I woke at 4:30 (ah, the beauty of camping at the race start and sleeping until the last possible moment) and the parking lot was full of racers getting last minute things in order. I shovelled in a banana, a berry smoothie, a couple gels, and some coffee; Checked all my gear for the 4th or 5th time, put on some sunblock, and I was ready to roll. One minute before the start I made my way to the front of the pack and made a little pre race, pre dawn small talk with Karl Meltzer. We wished each other luck and stared blankly down the dark trail ahead as the time counted down from 10 seconds. And then we were off.

I fell in behind Karl and had no plans of running in the lead before day break. I opted for a small, watch battery powered headlamp for this section of the race. Partly because it was so small and lightweight, but even more so that I wouldn't push out ahead at too fast of a pace. I pretty much couldn't run faster than 10 minute per mile pace without outrunning the beam of my light... perfect tool to help hold back for the first couple hours. And so we climbed up and up into the mountains. For most of the first two hours we were a group of 6. Joining Karl and I were Hal Koerner, Josh Brimhall, Jared Campbell, and John Anderson. I felt relaxed and strong but I could tell that most of the others did too. No one seemed to be working too hard all the way to Francis Peak aid station at mile 18. Josh lead the way into the aid station, but I was only a few seconds back and Karl and Hal could be seen up the road just a minute or two back. This is the first race I've ever done with a fully organized and committed crew. My roommate Dan had flown down from Alaska earlier in the week and I think he was almost as excited for this race as I was. He had me in and out of Francis Peak without hardly stopping and I was into the lead for what would turn out to be the rest of the race!

I was feeling strong and relaxed but I knew that I had no interest in trying to run away from the field this early on so I tried to slow down and let the chase pack reel me in. At one point 3 or 4 miles past Francis Peak I saw Josh and Karl behind me and I slowed even further, expecting that they would catch me within a few minutes and I would be able to relax and let one of them set the pace until I really wanted to begin racing at Lamb's Canyon (mile 53). For some reason though they never caught me. I was in and out of Bountiful B aid station without stopping at all and on the long straight away beyond that I couldn't see anyone behind me. I was pretty confused. I thought I was slowing down waiting for them but they just never came to me. In hindsight I realize I must have been moving a lot faster than I thought at the time, but in the moment it really just kind of confused me. Finally when I went through Swallow Rocks aid station (mile 34) I decided it was no longer worth trying to run with the chase pack. I didn't want to think about the prospect of being chased for 80+ miles but in the back of my mind I kind of knew that I had gone past the point of no return and that if I let anyone catch me that it would now be a mental defeat and that I might not be able to stay with them.

I cruised in and out of Big Mountain (mile 38) feeling strong and confident, but the day was getting hot. about 5 miles past Big Mountain my stomach really started to bother me. It had also bothered me between Francis Peak and Bountiful B but a little Coke at Bountiful B settled it back down for about 20 miles. Now though it was really unsettled and wasn't allowing me to take in any food. Even drinking water seemed like too much for awhile. I had to drink though as the temperatures around Alexander Springs aid station (mile 47) must have been pushing 90 degrees. at about mile 50 I was in serious trouble and I could sense Karl and the others breathing down my neck. I was reduced to walking, even the flat terrain, and stopping about every 10 minutes to slouch over with my hands on my knees. I repeated this pattern for almost an hour and finally made my way down to Lamb's Canyon (mile 53). At this point I thought for sure my race was over. I never thought about stopping at Lamb's but I felt like a dead man walking and that it was only a matter of when, not if I would have to stop. I hadn't eaten anything in over an hour, it was stupid hot, and my mind had gone south. The people at the aid station helped perk me back up a bit though. Mostly Dan, but also others who were there supporting other racers. One thing I really liked about this race was how supportive everyone was through the whole day. Not just my crew and the race volunteers, but also the crew of the racers chasing me down.

Dan ran with me for a couple miles up the road out of Lamb's Canyon and this really helped bring me back to reality and put things into perspective. Not only did I still have about a 10 minute lead on Karl, but I was also several minutes ahead of Kyle Skaggs course record pace. I started the climb over to Mill Creek Canyon and finally realized that it was silly to be thinking about anything other than doing what I need to do to get my stomach back on track and then go back on the attack. A little while before Mill Creek aid station my stomach finally came around and I was able to start catching back up on calorie consumption. I like to eat 100 calories every 20 minutes when I'm racing. Usually I can just stick to that rate of consumption and everything goes smooth. On this day though my stomach was pretty much on the edge of failure for about 2/3 of the race. Numerous times I needed to go 60+ minutes without eating anything and then try frantically to catch back up when my stomach felt better.

Leaving Mill Creek I knew Karl was only 10 minutes or so behind me, but I also started to get my confidence back for the first time in over 15 miles. I still had almost 40 miles to go but I could start to smell the finish. I was through Mill Creek about an hour faster than my time last year and I knew that if I could keep my stomach on track that I could potentially end up with a shockingly fast time. I tried as best I could to keep these thoughts out of my mind, but it was hard to do so because my legs, as they had most of the day, felt great. Things really began to click when I was climbing from Desolation Lake up to Scott's Pass (about mile 70). My stomach was letting me eat as much as I wanted to, the heat was finally breaking, and I was really having a lot of fun. But all the while I knew Karl was still lurking close behind. I confirmed this from the top of the Wasatch Crest when I could look back down and see him roll into Desolation aid station where I had just been about 15 minutes earlier.

The run down the paved road to Brighton was about exactly what you might expect of a downhill section of pavement 72 miles into a race: horrible. But it went by fast and then here I was at Brighton, 70 minutes faster than I was last year, and 25 minutes faster than Kyle Skaggs was in 2007 when he set the course record of 19:35.

The Wasatch 100 is basically two separate runs. A 75 mile warm up to Brighton and then a 25 mile race from Brighton to the finish. The route has so many tough climbs, rutted; dusty; sandy; rocky trail, and shockingly steep drops in the last 25 miles that it almost feels like you're not running in the some mountain range anymore. Add to this the accumulated fatigue of having already run for 75 miles and it's really an intimidating way to finish a race. Yet somehow Brighton to the finish is by far my favorite part of this course. It's beautiful in it's brutality and somehow really comforting even though it's forcing so much physical discomfort onto your body. And with these thoughts running through my mind I nervously joked with Karl's crew that she should be sure to let him know that I was just getting warmed up. In reality I was scared to death. I had been running alone for 10 hours, sensing Karl hunting me down the entire time, and if I were going to win this thing I was going to have to hold him off for 5 more hours. Leaving Brighton 25 minutes ahead of course record pace with Karl Meltzer chasing me close behind was in some ways just where I wanted to be, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't really stressful.

Dan decided to try to run with me from Brighton to the finish. I was pretty stoked about this. It allowed me to chat with him and try to forget about just how much pressure I was feeling to keep my shit together for 25 more miles. We took the climb up to Sunset Pass pretty easy and after that I was ready to really start pushing things. We were in and out of Ant Knolls (mile 79) without even stopping and then onto Pole Line Pass in what felt like just a few minutes later. It was now dark and I was now fixated on the finish. I started to realize that I could finish before midnight (sub 19 hours) and that if Karl was going to catch me he was going to have to virtually kill himself to do so. And then climbing up to the ridge between Pole Line Pass and Rock Springs I looked back down below and saw his headlamp following me up the trail. I knew that he was a good 20 minutes behind me right there but to be able to see him for the first time in several hours scared the shit out of me. And so I lowered my head and pushed even harder. By this point Dan was no longer able to keep up with me and I got into a nice meditative rhythm for several miles. Between Rock Springs and Pot Bottom though the trail is really tough. They call this a 6 miles stretch of trail but I think it's closer to 8 or 9. And in this particular case it felt more like 12. It just went on and on for what felt like hours.

I finally rolled into Pot Bottom (mile 93) at 17:20. Last year I ran from Pot Bottom to the finish in 1:10. This was the first point where it really sunk in just how fast I was going to finish this thing. I began to think about how I could walk the entire way to the finish and still shatter the course record. And how I could probably crawl to the finish and still beat my time from last year. And then I would remember Karl back there, chasing me down, only about 20 minutes behind. I never thought I could run this race anywhere near as fast as I did, but I certainly didn't think that if running that fast I would be looking over my shoulder the entire day. The fact that I hadn't run away with this race by this point is a testament to just how incredible of a day Karl had as well. It's pretty amazing that he just keeps getting faster and faster with each race he does. 10 more years and he might own every 100 mile record on the planet :)

Anyway, I decided to take the climb out of Pot Bottom really easy and then just pound the last 5 miles of downhill as hard as I could. I got to the top of the climb and I was ready to go. I was striding down the rocky trail with everything I had. My quads were in some pretty serious pain but I ignored it and simply sped up some more. When I hit the smooth single track with about 2 miles to go I was running so fast that my momentum was throwing me off the sides of curves. I didn't care. I just wanted to run fast. I had the race locked up, the course record shattered, and could have eased into the finish. But instead I sped up even more. And it felt better and better the faster I went.

When I crossed the finish I was relieved to be done, relieved that I no longer had to worry about Karl hunting me down, relieved that I could sit down and relax, but mostly relieved that my mind could stop thinking about racing. Usually in 100 mile races my mind has all kinds of time to wander off on tangents and process all kinds of things that I otherwise might not ever find the time to think about. In this race though I felt like I was on the edge of physical (mostly stomach) and mental (stress about being chased so closely for 80 miles) collapse so often that I really needed to keep my mind focused on the race at hand or else I would wander off and never come back.

When it was all said and done I had finished in 18:30:55... more than 90 minutes faster than last year and more than 60 minutes faster than the previous course record. I still haven't been able to process just what this fast of a race really means to me. I knew that if things went well I could go faster than I did last year, but never once did I think I could go anywhere near as fast as I did. I'm still trying to figure out why/how it happened and maybe I'll share that some other time if I come up with any ideas.

Quick Wasatch Thoughts

Got some sleep and I'm still unable to really put many words to yesterday's race.

I'll write a full race report soon, but one thing I will say now is that I have never run a race in which I was so close to physical and mental collapse for so much of the time. It was stressful in every sense of the word, but in some ways I guess persevering through that will make it even more satisfying once I'm able to understand it better.

One thing I will say is that I don't ever again want to spend 85 miles being chased by Karl. He was shockingly relentless in his pursuit. I felt like I couldn't do anything to shake him, and if I had it to do again I think I would have hung back with him and the others a lot longer than I did. I guess it worked out OK though.

Wasatch Links

Wasatch begins in 14 hours (5:00 am mst).

Here are the relevant links for those interested in following:
Official Race Website
Race Website Runner Tracker
Dan's (my support crew) Twitter page
My Twitter page which Dan may update during race
Matt Hart's Twitter page which I assume he'll be updating throughout race

Enjoy...

Utah

I'm in Utah now after 2 weeks in Colorado. I spent most of my time in Colorado above 8,000 feet so I feel very ready to deal with the altitude.

Ran about 12 miles up in the mountains with Hal and Karl today. It was nice to do a mellow run together before we drive each other into the ground next week.

I feel really well prepared for this race. I've done so much more mountain running this summer than ever in my life, I've slept really well in the past week, and have been feeling pretty good on most all of my runs, especially when climbing. None of this means that things will go perfect on race day, but it's nice to feel like I've done almost as much as possible to ensure that things go well. Then again I felt the same way going into Miwok this year so I'm trying not to get too confident.

Juneau To Roberts

Last week before I left Juneau I was able to complete a mountain run that I'd been planning for several weeks. I was pretty stoked when the weather finally cooperated the day before I left town and I had most of the day off from work. The specific route will only be of interest to those who know Juneau so I won't go into too much detail about that. To keep it simple I went up the Mount Juneau trail and came down the Mount Roberts trail, remaining on ridgeline the entire way over Olds Mountain, Clark, Sheep, Roberts, and Gastineau.

I thought that if things went well I might complete this loop in 7 hours. I ended up doing it in 4:56!

I didn't feel very good for the first 2 hours, but somewhere near Olds I began to loosen up and my body and mind finally got into alignment with each other. After the climb down the backside of Olds I really hit my stride and was cruising really strong the rest of the way. Climbing up Clark felt like it only took me a few minutes (was probably 20 minutes in reality). The climb up Sheep required about 1,000 feet of steep snowfield. Much of it was so steep that I needed to climb on all fours to use my hands for extra "traction." It probably took 30 minutes for this climb, but somehow I felt stronger at the top than I did when I began the climb. From there I was back on established trails and I knew I could cruise on down to where I had started as long as my legs held up. 80 minutes later I was back at the trailhead and feeling as strong as I had felt all day.

All told it was probably no more than 20 miles but likely had about 8,000-10,000 feet of climbing. Certainly one of the most satisfying runs I've ever done.

My body is stronger in the mountains right now than it has ever been. I have really high expectations for the Wasatch 100. I'm trying not to feel too confident, but it's hard not to be optimistic when I've had so many runs this summer in which I've climbed 5,000 or more feet and felt really strong. I haven't always felt great on my flatter, higher mileage runs, but almost every time I've gone into the mountains in the past 2 months I've come down even further amazed with the strength that I've coaxed into my body.

Coming Around

I've been in Colorado for the past week now. The first few days at elevation were tough. Got in some decent runs near Boulder (elevation about 6,000) but my lungs and heart were feeling pretty bad. I'm now in Crestone (elevation 8,000) and feeling much better. I ended up deciding on 3 full weeks of acclimatization and I'm pretty stoked about that. Last year before Wasatch I had 2 weeks and I think that was enough, but only with a day or two to spare. If things go as they went last year I should be feeling almost completely adjusted with about a week still to go before race day. I won't do a whole lot of training in that time but it will be nice for my piece of mind to feel like I'm ready to roll more than a day or two before race day.

Chilkoot

Hopped on the ferry on Friday and ran the 33 mile Chilkoot Trail with some friends yesterday. 8 hours total time. A mellow pace for me but I was the only one in our group who had ever run more than a marathon. It was fun to run with some folks who were pushing their limit and get a good long run in.

I didn't feel very good for the first few hours but I finally got in a groove about 4 hours in and pretty much felt stronger when I finished than any other point of the day. Perhaps next summer I'll go back and go for the fastest known time on the trail (6:47). I think I could easily do it under 6 hours, and maybe as fast as 5.

At any rate, it's all about Wasatch training right now. This past 2 weeks has made me feel very good about where I'm at in my training. I've done a great mix of hills, distance, and even a little tempo stuff and I've felt pretty good on almost all of it. I hate to get too optimistic, but things sure are coming together at the right time for a good run on September 11th.

Alpine Addiction

I don't think I have ever been this tired from so little mileage.

Over the past 3 weeks my mileage has been hovering around the 70 mile per week range, but over 90% of this has been climbing up and down steep mountains and traversing mountain ridges. I've seen more of the alpine surrounding Juneau in the past 2 months than in the previous 2 summers that I lived here.

Right now I'm addicted to the climbing. My body is thrashed (in a good way) from climbing 4,000 or more feet almost everyday for 2 weeks, but I'm finding it very hard to not climb to the high country each day after work. Last weekend I did a 3 day fastpack and got myself into some areas I previously only had heard of, but didn't think I could actually get to so easily. It's really amazing just where you can go on a mountain ridge if you just get up there and do it.

There have been some misadventures. More than one outing this summer has ended after dark without lighting, but it's been fun to push the limits and really see what's up there in the alpine where so few people go. I think tomorrow or Monday I'm going to try to put in a flatter, higher mileage run, but we'll see if I can actually force myself to do so with the mountains right there above me.

Wasatch Anticipation

I'm fully recovered from Crow Pass and tomorrow the weather is turning to sun for what is supposed to be another 7+ day stretch of dry, calm weather, perfect for getting up on the mountain ridges. When the weather is nice the trails here are perfect for training for the Wasatch 100. The only flaw is that I start all my runs at sea level and top out at about 5,000 feet. Because of this I will be heading to Utah about 2 weeks before Wasatch to adjust to the heat and elevation. I expect to show up on race morning in the best shape of my life. It's possible that won't even be enough to win this one but I'm excited to find out. If the weather is decent in Utah on September 11th I suspect it might take a course record to come out victorious. I know I can go 20 minutes faster than I did last year, and I suspect at least a couple others in the race might be able to as well. For now though I'm just excited for all the fun training runs I get to do in the next several weeks.

Crow Pass Race Report

I approached this race very different from any race I have ever run. The idea crept slowly into my mind over the past month or so to run a race in which I didn't race so much against other runners, but instead to test my mind to see how hard I could get it to push my body. As I explained this approach to a few close friends leading up to the race one of them asked me if I thought maybe I was getting bored with racing. This caught me a bit off guard cause I hadn't thought about that, but almost right away I wondered if she was on to something. By the time I lined up for my race at 7am Saturday morning I had a bit of fear/excitement that this might be the last race I would run trying to compete at such a high level. If you discover that you can push yourself where you want to go, as fast as you want to go, without feeding off of others in the race then at some point it becomes kind of silly to race as compared to just doing fun routes against a clock or against previous runs and how they made your mind and body feel. This didn't turn out to be the case though. At least not yet.

Eric Strabel and I had loosely discussed the possibility of pushing each other to what would seem to most people to be an impossibly fast time. He had the fastest time ever in the 25 years of this race (3:05 and change) and I had the 3rd fastest time ever in this race (3:07 something I think), but we both knew we could go faster. We had even talked specifically about the likelihood that one or both of us could go under 3 hours. As the race started I pretty much knew that if it became a race against another runner, as compared to a test to see how hard I could push myself, that Eric would almost certainly be that other runner.

Up to the pass I ran alone. I didn't feel very good but I was 10 or more seconds ahead of anyone all the way up. I found myself looking back at the pack a few times... not entirely able to forget about the rest of the field like I hoped to do.

Over the pass I was able to bring my thoughts mostly into my mind only. I really tried to hammer down the back side but my quads were burning pretty badly and I was only 5 miles into the 25 mile race. I knew it was going to be a painful day but I kind of relished that thought. The last thing I wanted was to finish this race without some serious physical suffering. It was only going to be a success if I hammered from start to finish as hard as I could, and certainly that was going to involve some serious physical pain. I had accepted that as a certainty several weeks earlier.

A few miles later Eric caught up to me for the first time. I tried to keep my mind off from whatever race he was running and just kept pushing harder. I pulled back ahead of him and cruised on down to the river crossing at mile 12 with about a 10-20 second lead. I knew he would be strong after the river, as he always is, but I kept trying to push myself against myself and not against him.

Eventually though he reeled me in again and when I took a slight wrong turn that cost me a few seconds he took the lead. I settled in behind him and almost instantly the race was on. As the interest in racing against another runner came back into my mind it became almost all consuming. Eric is a great competitor and I knew we were in for a battle to the finish that would be more satisfying than anything I was going to be able provide myself, without his help. We took turns leading each other further down toward the finish. He dropped a bit behind with 7 or 8 miles to go, but he caught me again a mile or so later. Finally with a bit less than 5 miles to go I made a strong move and never saw him again.

Now I was back to racing the clock. I never really forgot about him behind me but more and more I became zoned in on trying to break 3 hours. Finally with about 2 miles to go I knew I had it as long as nothing went drastically wrong. I wasn't moving very fast anymore but I pushed myself as hard as I could, almost screaming out in exhaustion at times. I finished in 2:57:11, more than a minute ahead of Eric.

Instead of ending the race feeling that I had no need to race against other runners anymore, I ended the race as hungry as ever to compete. Wasatch is going to be on in a big way come September 11th. Hal and Karl are both supposed to be there. It should be epic.

Sub 3

Anchorage Daily News story about yesterday's race HERE.

Also a video clip HERE from an Anchorage local news station (look for it under the featured videos section).

I'll post more about it sometime soon. Need to gather my thoughts a bit more on this one.

Hoping To Survive, Maybe Even Thrive...

Running Crow Pass race tomorrow. It'll be my first race in 10 weeks. I'm not sure if I'm totally ready, but I never feel totally ready.

I'm not sure if it is possible to just decide ahead of time to do but my plan for this race is to push myself harder than I've ever pushed myself. I don't intend to pay much attention to what other runners are doing (even though the competition will be stellar), but instead to try to get my mind to make my body work harder than might typically seem possible. It'll likely go really bad, but if not it could go really well. It's kind of a scary and intense way to approach a race, but strangely kind of comforting too. Should be an interesting morning.

Open For Business

I'm currently in Gustavus, Alaska (pop. ~400) where my friend Dan and I have opened a short term bike shop (Just open for a couple weeks, and then maybe again later in the summer). You wouldn't think a bike shop in a town of 400 would really have very much business but Gustavus is anything but a typical small town. Unlike the rest of Southeast Alaska it is very flat here. It's really easy to get around on bikes and the people here take a certain amount of pride in being self sufficient and I think some of that spreads over into an interest in being self propelled. It's a really neat place.

Mostly we're just cleaning bikes that haven't been cared for in years and changing out whatever parts we need to make them rideable. Not as smooth as working on newer, higher end bikes, but there's more of a sense of satisfaction in knowing that you're putting a bike back on the road that would otherwise be sitting in someone's yard for the rest of it's life. I like it.

I've been sick most of this week so my training leading up to Crow Pass hasn't been perfect but I think I'll be ready to roll next Saturday. I've got so much strength right now from all the long climbs up into the mountains. I just need to hope that I find some way to convert this strength into speed for something as short as a 3 hour race. We'll see.