Sunday, July 26, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Backpacking, Part 2
After all the excitement of our attempts to leave for the trip, we did actually make it to the trailhead sometime around 2PM. In actuality, that was much earlier than we had gotten to the trailhead our last backpacking trip. I think we got there about 6PM that time, and I made it to the campsite just as dusk was falling.
When Kris and I got to the trailhead, the rest of the group had already taken off, leaving one behind to let us know to catch up. That we did in about a mile or two. Then, as a group, we took off for Bob and Betty Lakes, where we'd be spending the night. It was about a 6 1/2 mile hike or so, with around 3000 feet of elevation gain. Not so simple with all your gear on your back.
After stopping a couple times to let squalls pass, we actually did make it to the campsite. Predictably, that close to the divide, it was cold and windy. We set up camp quickly, and tried to settle in. And, after some difficulty with making numb fingers tie knots in monofilament, I braved the wind and threw a few casts into the water.
Quite to my surprise, my second cast landed me a little brook trout, which I promptly released.
It would prove to be the only fish caught that trip.
The wind proved a bit much, and I ended after that minor feat with an impressive line snarl for my trouble. I opted to call it quits, make dinner (mmm ramen . . .) and head for bed with the sun.
Sleep was hard to come by. Throughout that night, the wind was gusting at, I'm guessing, between 40 and 60 mph. My little Halfdome tent handled it well, but I did not get much (read any) sleep. And me being me, I woke up earlier than everybody else.
It was a gray, cold day.
Our plan was to scout up the Continental Divide (or High Lonesome) trail, which we were hoping to follow the next day to hop over to Devil's Thumb Lake. But after looking at the divide, or at least in the general direction as seen above, we opted out of that plan, and decided to head down valley instead, following the view below.
Much more inviting. There were, however, a number of rather pretty, if small, wildflowers near our first campsite.
Actually, there were quite a few more than this, but I liked these.
This little guy was our camp mascot. Fortunately, he never found his way into our food supplies. That would have made it all the more annoying up there. This was something like my 8th attempt to take a picture of him. Every other time, just as I was focusing in on him, he disappeared. I think he was just waiting till he could pose properly . . .
A pic of the rest of the gang. Left to right: Kris, Luke, Lelah, Rachel, Phil. (Click the picture to enlarge).
Shortly after that pic, and another mile or so onwards and downwards, I realized I had left my little tackle box up at the first campsite. So, naturally, I told the rest to go on, and ran back up the mile and a half and 800 feet of elevation to go get it. And, right in the middle, I got nailed by a hailstorm, fully vindicating our decision to leave and head down.
Not much more to report after that. We made it down to our campsite for night two, off the trail and by a creek under some large evergreens. It proved much more comfortable, if much buggier, than the previous site. And, following a failed fishing expedition to Lost Lake, we opted to sleep (for 11 hours) and head out in the morning.
It's a cheesy shot, I know, but they all lined up on the bridge so nicely, that I couldn't resist taking a shot. This is the last 20 feet or so of hiking, right by the trailhead. Left to Right: Lelah (rather hidden behind Rachel), Rachel, Kris, Phil, and Luke.
Not the most successful of backpacking trips ever. But as Calvin says, in an impersonation of his dad, "being miserable builds character." It wasn't all miserable, but we certainly had some character building on this trip . . .
When Kris and I got to the trailhead, the rest of the group had already taken off, leaving one behind to let us know to catch up. That we did in about a mile or two. Then, as a group, we took off for Bob and Betty Lakes, where we'd be spending the night. It was about a 6 1/2 mile hike or so, with around 3000 feet of elevation gain. Not so simple with all your gear on your back.
After stopping a couple times to let squalls pass, we actually did make it to the campsite. Predictably, that close to the divide, it was cold and windy. We set up camp quickly, and tried to settle in. And, after some difficulty with making numb fingers tie knots in monofilament, I braved the wind and threw a few casts into the water.
Quite to my surprise, my second cast landed me a little brook trout, which I promptly released.
It would prove to be the only fish caught that trip.
The wind proved a bit much, and I ended after that minor feat with an impressive line snarl for my trouble. I opted to call it quits, make dinner (mmm ramen . . .) and head for bed with the sun.
Sleep was hard to come by. Throughout that night, the wind was gusting at, I'm guessing, between 40 and 60 mph. My little Halfdome tent handled it well, but I did not get much (read any) sleep. And me being me, I woke up earlier than everybody else.
It was a gray, cold day.
Our plan was to scout up the Continental Divide (or High Lonesome) trail, which we were hoping to follow the next day to hop over to Devil's Thumb Lake. But after looking at the divide, or at least in the general direction as seen above, we opted out of that plan, and decided to head down valley instead, following the view below.
Much more inviting. There were, however, a number of rather pretty, if small, wildflowers near our first campsite.
Actually, there were quite a few more than this, but I liked these.
This little guy was our camp mascot. Fortunately, he never found his way into our food supplies. That would have made it all the more annoying up there. This was something like my 8th attempt to take a picture of him. Every other time, just as I was focusing in on him, he disappeared. I think he was just waiting till he could pose properly . . .
A pic of the rest of the gang. Left to right: Kris, Luke, Lelah, Rachel, Phil. (Click the picture to enlarge).
Shortly after that pic, and another mile or so onwards and downwards, I realized I had left my little tackle box up at the first campsite. So, naturally, I told the rest to go on, and ran back up the mile and a half and 800 feet of elevation to go get it. And, right in the middle, I got nailed by a hailstorm, fully vindicating our decision to leave and head down.
Not much more to report after that. We made it down to our campsite for night two, off the trail and by a creek under some large evergreens. It proved much more comfortable, if much buggier, than the previous site. And, following a failed fishing expedition to Lost Lake, we opted to sleep (for 11 hours) and head out in the morning.
It's a cheesy shot, I know, but they all lined up on the bridge so nicely, that I couldn't resist taking a shot. This is the last 20 feet or so of hiking, right by the trailhead. Left to Right: Lelah (rather hidden behind Rachel), Rachel, Kris, Phil, and Luke.
Not the most successful of backpacking trips ever. But as Calvin says, in an impersonation of his dad, "being miserable builds character." It wasn't all miserable, but we certainly had some character building on this trip . . .
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
The Start of an interesting trip.
Last Thursday, I headed up to Indian Peaks with five friends, and high hopes, to do what was planned as a four day backpacking trip. The trip did not start well.
Before we even got out of Boulder, my friend Luke's dad called, saying his bike broke and he needed a couple tools. So we promptly delivered those, and were on our way only a half hour late.
And we opted to stop for lunch at Chipotle for burritos, a bit of a tradition on these trips. As Kris and I were walking back to my car after lunch, we heard the unmistakable "screeeeeech THUNK!!!" of a car crash. And, sure enough, two seconds later, we got a call saying "we've been in an accident." Fortunately, nobody was hurt, which is even more fortunate given that the woman who hit Luke was pregnant (8 months or so?).
Any way, we headed off up the canyon, but right as we turned onto Canyon, we got passed by three emergency vehicles, which we proceeded to follow up the canyon to Nederland.
But we didn't reach Ned right away. One of the emergency vehicles was a dive team, which stopped at the reservoir at the top of the canyon. The number of police, fire, and rescue cars at the reservoir was astounding. We ended up stopped for about half an hour as what we hoped would be a rescue was under way.
We finally did get to the trailhead, despite the delays, but Kris and I were wondering if the trip should even continue, or whether there would even be a trailhead, given the array of mishaps that had already happened.
Turns out, the trip went ok. The tableau at the reservoir was a search and rescue operation for a fisherman at Barker who had jumped in after his pole. His friend had jumped in after him, but had to let him go after the fisherman started pulling his would-be rescuer under. Regrettably, the search and rescue did not involve a rescue in time: the fisherman had succumbed to the cold and drowned soon after jumping in.
Moral of the story: if your rod falls into water that cold, don't go in after it. It's not worth your life. Hypothermia can strike within minutes in water of that temperature, and the muscles will seize up long before then.
More on the rest of the trip in the next post.
Before we even got out of Boulder, my friend Luke's dad called, saying his bike broke and he needed a couple tools. So we promptly delivered those, and were on our way only a half hour late.
And we opted to stop for lunch at Chipotle for burritos, a bit of a tradition on these trips. As Kris and I were walking back to my car after lunch, we heard the unmistakable "screeeeeech THUNK!!!" of a car crash. And, sure enough, two seconds later, we got a call saying "we've been in an accident." Fortunately, nobody was hurt, which is even more fortunate given that the woman who hit Luke was pregnant (8 months or so?).
Any way, we headed off up the canyon, but right as we turned onto Canyon, we got passed by three emergency vehicles, which we proceeded to follow up the canyon to Nederland.
But we didn't reach Ned right away. One of the emergency vehicles was a dive team, which stopped at the reservoir at the top of the canyon. The number of police, fire, and rescue cars at the reservoir was astounding. We ended up stopped for about half an hour as what we hoped would be a rescue was under way.
We finally did get to the trailhead, despite the delays, but Kris and I were wondering if the trip should even continue, or whether there would even be a trailhead, given the array of mishaps that had already happened.
Turns out, the trip went ok. The tableau at the reservoir was a search and rescue operation for a fisherman at Barker who had jumped in after his pole. His friend had jumped in after him, but had to let him go after the fisherman started pulling his would-be rescuer under. Regrettably, the search and rescue did not involve a rescue in time: the fisherman had succumbed to the cold and drowned soon after jumping in.
Moral of the story: if your rod falls into water that cold, don't go in after it. It's not worth your life. Hypothermia can strike within minutes in water of that temperature, and the muscles will seize up long before then.
More on the rest of the trip in the next post.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Diamond Lake Trail
In a fit of nostalgia, I revisited the first real trail I hiked when I moved to Colorado yesterday: Diamond Lake. Last time I went up there, the second day I was in CO, I hiked up to the lake in early July with my dad. This time, I ran the trail, and it seemed remarkably easy for most of its length.
I was glad to have my little Subaru on the way up. Most of thee Fourth of July Road is easily passable by most passenger cars, but there are a few tricky bits where I was glad for the extra clearance. I'm not sure how my dad ever managed it with a fully-loaded minivans (my worldly possessions were still in the van last time). And I had completely forgotten how long the road seems in a car. But, with only mild abuse (and no bottoming out) I made it to the trailhead.
Diamond Lake is somewhere over this direction. The trail heads off to the northwest, and then crosses the North Fork Middle Boulder Creek, and heads back southeast to the lake. Much of the trail is basically a traverse.
Right where the trail crosses the creek, there's a rather pretty cascade. This is the best pic I got.
Despite it being almost July, there was still a lot of snow on the trail. So much snow, in fact, that I kept losing the trail. There were a wide variety of footprints heading off different directions, and I kept taking wrong turns and having to backtrack. It was so snowy, in fact, that I never actually found the lake. I wandered around the alpine meadows for a while (on the snowfields, really) and then decided to take a waterfall pic and head back.
I'm assuming this is a cascade that feeds into Diamond Lake . . .
The Diamond Lake trail is known for the streams that cross the trail along the traverse leading up the valley. Most, I could run across, but this one was a little precarious for that. It's always a little nerve wracking. I'm just glad my new trail shoes grip so well on even wet rocks.
And looking up at the same creek crossing.
This was a rare run for me, in that it took longer to drive to and from the trailhead than to actually run the trail. But, the driving is fun too, so it works out.
Right, it's kickoff time for the final of the Confederations Cup. Gotta go . . .
I was glad to have my little Subaru on the way up. Most of thee Fourth of July Road is easily passable by most passenger cars, but there are a few tricky bits where I was glad for the extra clearance. I'm not sure how my dad ever managed it with a fully-loaded minivans (my worldly possessions were still in the van last time). And I had completely forgotten how long the road seems in a car. But, with only mild abuse (and no bottoming out) I made it to the trailhead.
Diamond Lake is somewhere over this direction. The trail heads off to the northwest, and then crosses the North Fork Middle Boulder Creek, and heads back southeast to the lake. Much of the trail is basically a traverse.
Right where the trail crosses the creek, there's a rather pretty cascade. This is the best pic I got.
Despite it being almost July, there was still a lot of snow on the trail. So much snow, in fact, that I kept losing the trail. There were a wide variety of footprints heading off different directions, and I kept taking wrong turns and having to backtrack. It was so snowy, in fact, that I never actually found the lake. I wandered around the alpine meadows for a while (on the snowfields, really) and then decided to take a waterfall pic and head back.
I'm assuming this is a cascade that feeds into Diamond Lake . . .
The Diamond Lake trail is known for the streams that cross the trail along the traverse leading up the valley. Most, I could run across, but this one was a little precarious for that. It's always a little nerve wracking. I'm just glad my new trail shoes grip so well on even wet rocks.
And looking up at the same creek crossing.
This was a rare run for me, in that it took longer to drive to and from the trailhead than to actually run the trail. But, the driving is fun too, so it works out.
Right, it's kickoff time for the final of the Confederations Cup. Gotta go . . .
Monday, June 22, 2009
14ers done the right way
Last Saturday, I roused a few of my friends out of bed at an ungodly hour of the morning, and we took off in my little Subaru to Fairplay, there to tackle Mt Sherman. Granted, it's a relatively easy 14er as they go, but it was fun nonetheless.
There was a 12 mile dirt road on the approach to the mountain. The only bit that was at all tricky was in the last mile. But my little car handled it like a pro, without a dint. Gotta love her.
The first stretch of the trail was really a road up to the old mine. Not so tough. And the altitude (around 11,800' or so) wasn't affecting me at all. But I figured that couldn't last.
Looking up at the mine.
A little after that pic, the trail split up two different ways. My friend Jonathan and I opted to take the route that went straight up the gully. It was a little steep.
It was very steep. We ended up having to go on all fours much of the way up, and even then, we slid back half a step for every step we went forward. And it was more than a little muddy.
And the summit was a little bit snowy. The amazing part was, the altitude didn't seem to affect me at all. I was running along the summit ridge, singing, and not getting out of breath. It was fantastic, and it bodes well for the possibility of running the Leadville Heavy Half in July.
And then came the fun part: going down, via the snowfields. This time, we got video:
And yes, that odd sound is me trying not to laugh.
Like I said, 14ers done the right way: straight up the side, and straight down the snowfields. 2 hrs up, 30 minutes down.
There was a 12 mile dirt road on the approach to the mountain. The only bit that was at all tricky was in the last mile. But my little car handled it like a pro, without a dint. Gotta love her.
The first stretch of the trail was really a road up to the old mine. Not so tough. And the altitude (around 11,800' or so) wasn't affecting me at all. But I figured that couldn't last.
Looking up at the mine.
A little after that pic, the trail split up two different ways. My friend Jonathan and I opted to take the route that went straight up the gully. It was a little steep.
It was very steep. We ended up having to go on all fours much of the way up, and even then, we slid back half a step for every step we went forward. And it was more than a little muddy.
And the summit was a little bit snowy. The amazing part was, the altitude didn't seem to affect me at all. I was running along the summit ridge, singing, and not getting out of breath. It was fantastic, and it bodes well for the possibility of running the Leadville Heavy Half in July.
And then came the fun part: going down, via the snowfields. This time, we got video:
And yes, that odd sound is me trying not to laugh.
Like I said, 14ers done the right way: straight up the side, and straight down the snowfields. 2 hrs up, 30 minutes down.
Friday, May 29, 2009
A New Perspective on the Flatirons
Last Thursday, before I got my new trail shoes but after I got my new orthotics, I had to take a day off running. I had intended to take the day off entirely, but it was a misty, rainy day. Those are my favorite for trail running: everything just seems fresher, somehow. That, and it's never as horribly warm.
So, rather than trail running, I went for one of my favorite hikes: Saddle Rock in Chautauqua here in Boulder. It's a rather steep, fairly short hike, and the views from the top are generally spectacular. You get a view across at Flagstaff, and down into Boulder as well.
And since I wasn't running, it was easy to take my camera along and get a few good pics.
The Rock for which the trail is named. I didn't get a great pic of the actual "saddle" part, but you can see, it's up there a bit.
From the top, as I mentioned, you get some great views. Being spring, the Chautauqua Meadow is actually green, instead of the dead brown it turns later in the summer. It was somehow prettier when I took the picture.
At this point, I looked up farther, at the back of one of the Flatirons, and opted to hike to it. After a significant climb, I scrambled around on the rocks for a while, and found a niche that provided a bit of a different perspective on the Flatirons.
I thought it was pretty cool how close the angle of the Flatiron I was on was to the next one over.
The best part of the hike? I got a call in the middle of it saying that my new shoes had come in. When I got to Fleet Feet to pick them up, the person who sold them to me turned out to be a fellow Colby grad.
Small world.
Today, I'm going for a short Dakota Ridge/Sanitas Valley Run. Tomorrow, hopefully Betasso Preserve with Jessica.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Nemesis: Spring
Two days ago I picked up a book I'd been intending to read for some time: "No Shortcuts to the Top," by Ed Viesturs. For those who may not know, Viesturs is one of the world's pre-eminent Himalayan climbers, having summited all 14 of the world's 8000 meter peaks without the use of suplemental oxygen. He is also known for his rather conservative approach to climbing, emphasized by his motto "Getting to the top is optional. Getting down is mandatory." In my, completely uneducated, relatively uninformed opinion, that shows far more integrity and daring than the gung ho style adopted by many mountaineers.
All that aside, one of the chapters in the book is entitled "Nemesis: Annapurna." Annapurna is the deadliest of the 8000 meter peaks by some measures, and the last one Viesturs knocked off his list, and became, quite literally, a nemesis for him.
I've decided that my nemesis, at least as far as running goes, is spring. I don't know what it is about this season, but I have trouble running through it. I generally manage pretty well through January and February, which by all rights should be the most difficult months, being the coldest on the whole. Once March comes around, however, things start to go wrong. I start to accrue little injuries that, while not seeming significant in and of themselves, add up and lead to something larger.
Last year, it was a quad/hamstring issue that kept me from training. This year, it was an IT band problem, which stemmed, I believe, from the breakdown of my orthotics. Whatever it happens to be, I end up not training much in April, and rarely in May. And then, seemingly magically, though probably due to the rest I'm forced to take, sometime in May I get back into it in time for the summer/fall/winter seasons.
My nemesis is spring.
Just last Friday, I got a new pair of orthotics. This is just in time for me to be very tempted to run the Bolder Boulder on Memorial day. But, as I well know, that would be a poor choice at this point. So once again, I will be watching from Folsom Stadium.
Part of me is very disappointed about this, but part of me accepts it as almost inevitable. And, the fact of the matter is that this blog is very appropriately titled "Racing Through the Wilderness." At heart, I am a trail runner. While I would not say I despise running on roads, I definitely do not love it as I do trail running. Road running almost bores me, while, even when running the same trails day after day, trail running nevertheless offers variety. I also believe that it is primarily because I tend to run on the roads so much more in the winter months that, by the spring, my legs are so beat up that they give in.
Simply put: every trail is different. Beyond relatively superficial differences, roads are generally similar to each other.
I, for one, am glad that summer is coming.
All that aside, one of the chapters in the book is entitled "Nemesis: Annapurna." Annapurna is the deadliest of the 8000 meter peaks by some measures, and the last one Viesturs knocked off his list, and became, quite literally, a nemesis for him.
I've decided that my nemesis, at least as far as running goes, is spring. I don't know what it is about this season, but I have trouble running through it. I generally manage pretty well through January and February, which by all rights should be the most difficult months, being the coldest on the whole. Once March comes around, however, things start to go wrong. I start to accrue little injuries that, while not seeming significant in and of themselves, add up and lead to something larger.
Last year, it was a quad/hamstring issue that kept me from training. This year, it was an IT band problem, which stemmed, I believe, from the breakdown of my orthotics. Whatever it happens to be, I end up not training much in April, and rarely in May. And then, seemingly magically, though probably due to the rest I'm forced to take, sometime in May I get back into it in time for the summer/fall/winter seasons.
My nemesis is spring.
Just last Friday, I got a new pair of orthotics. This is just in time for me to be very tempted to run the Bolder Boulder on Memorial day. But, as I well know, that would be a poor choice at this point. So once again, I will be watching from Folsom Stadium.
Part of me is very disappointed about this, but part of me accepts it as almost inevitable. And, the fact of the matter is that this blog is very appropriately titled "Racing Through the Wilderness." At heart, I am a trail runner. While I would not say I despise running on roads, I definitely do not love it as I do trail running. Road running almost bores me, while, even when running the same trails day after day, trail running nevertheless offers variety. I also believe that it is primarily because I tend to run on the roads so much more in the winter months that, by the spring, my legs are so beat up that they give in.
Simply put: every trail is different. Beyond relatively superficial differences, roads are generally similar to each other.
I, for one, am glad that summer is coming.
Friday, April 10, 2009
The scary thing is it just might happen
But it won't be for a while yet. Last year, towards the end of the summer, my friend Sonya and her boy rode their mountain bikes from Boulder over Rollins Pass to Winter Park. It's a long way, but they seemed to manage ok.
Well, that got me to thinking, I want to run longer races this summer (the Leadville Heavy Half, Pikes Peak, and the Golden Leaf among them), so why not throw an epic run in there somewhere?
That's right, I want to run from Boulder to Winter Park. This would start at my house in Boulder, at an elevation of approximately 5400 feet above sea level. On the way, I would head up through Nederland (8500 feet) and up into Indian Peaks Wilderness over the continental divide (12,250 feet, more or less). And down the other side to end up in Winter Park (9500 feet).
I'm not sure of the exact route yet. I would prefer not to take the same route the bikers did, as there was a lot of road involved. I'd prefer to stay on the trails whenever possible, which might make the route even longer than the 45 miles I'm estimating right now. We shall see.
I have friends who are willing to, in their words, "sit at the brewery and wait for" me to get there, and drive me back (after what I'm certain would be a large dinner). I also have a friend who, since she's planning to run an Ultra later in the month, would run this with me.
The scary part is it might just happen, and it's up to me to 1) train enough so that it's possible and 2) organized so we don't die . . .
Well, that got me to thinking, I want to run longer races this summer (the Leadville Heavy Half, Pikes Peak, and the Golden Leaf among them), so why not throw an epic run in there somewhere?
That's right, I want to run from Boulder to Winter Park. This would start at my house in Boulder, at an elevation of approximately 5400 feet above sea level. On the way, I would head up through Nederland (8500 feet) and up into Indian Peaks Wilderness over the continental divide (12,250 feet, more or less). And down the other side to end up in Winter Park (9500 feet).
I'm not sure of the exact route yet. I would prefer not to take the same route the bikers did, as there was a lot of road involved. I'd prefer to stay on the trails whenever possible, which might make the route even longer than the 45 miles I'm estimating right now. We shall see.
I have friends who are willing to, in their words, "sit at the brewery and wait for" me to get there, and drive me back (after what I'm certain would be a large dinner). I also have a friend who, since she's planning to run an Ultra later in the month, would run this with me.
The scary part is it might just happen, and it's up to me to 1) train enough so that it's possible and 2) organized so we don't die . . .
Friday, April 3, 2009
A few Pics
Here are a few pics from the recent crazy weather. Wednesday, I went running in another, albeit brief, snow squall. I had to take off my sunglasses for that one. The snow was so wet and sticky that by the time I got home there was a good 1/2" of snow stuck to the lenses. Later that night, full of a bit too much restless energy, due in part to an annoying takehome exam, I opted to go for another run. At that point, it was icy but, aside from a close call with a snowplow, slightly worrisome, I managed ok. 3 miles in 18 minutes. I'm in better shape than I thought.
This one was from last Thursday. I had already shoveled the deck once. This was 12PM.
By later the afternoon, as you can see, the snow was a bit deeper.
The next day, the flatirons looked quite impressive in the sunlight.
And today, weather's in the fifties, and there's a chance of thunderstorms this afternoon. Sounds like the perfect day for a run, followed by a relaxing Friday Happy Hour.
This one was from last Thursday. I had already shoveled the deck once. This was 12PM.
By later the afternoon, as you can see, the snow was a bit deeper.
The next day, the flatirons looked quite impressive in the sunlight.
And today, weather's in the fifties, and there's a chance of thunderstorms this afternoon. Sounds like the perfect day for a run, followed by a relaxing Friday Happy Hour.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Snow Running
So it's been over a month since I last posted. Actually, it's been closer to two. As this suggests, I've been busier than usual, and I have not been running as much as I usually would.
I'm in the process of finishing off my masters degree in Control Systems Engineering here in Colorado. Part of that requires that I take more credits than I usually would, and the credits I am taking are harder than they usually would be. All in all, that would be enough to eat up my free time and spit it out in tiny pieces. On top of that, I'm writing a masters thesis. On top of that there's a girl Ive been seeing for a bit over three months now.
That said, this last week as been my spring break. Rather than go anywhere warm, I opted to stay in Boulder and a) save money and b) get some work done. I could add a c) run a bunch in there and it would work perfectly. I believe I have the primary theorem for my Masters proven at this point, so my break has already been a success.
On the running front. Saturday afternoon I took off for a Mesa run with my friend Jessica. Neither of us has been running as much as we usually do, so it was a slow run, as evidenced by how quickly the CU mens track team overtook us on the way up. It was slightly depressing. But then, that's not unexpected.
Tuesday, I got my first real intensity workout in: 8x90s hills up Sanitas valley. They went pretty well, though I think I could have pushed myself a fair amount harder had I wanted to. This is the first workout of any intensity I've gotten in since I quit the training club almost a year ago, and it really drove home how much easier it is to push yourself with a team around you. But, I finished the workout, and my legs felt better than I expected them to.
Yesterday I had planned an easy run, in anticipation of a tempo workout today. However, I woke up to 6 inches of snow. That's fine, not that much. But by the time I ran at about 1:30, that had increased to 13 inches. So I decided, what the hell, let's go for a trail run in the powder.
I strapped on my Kahtoola Microspikes and headed out. As ever, the microspikes gave me a near-perfect grip on both the packed snow/ice of the roads and the 12 inches of powder on the trail. I once again ran up Sanitas Valley, as I didn't want to risk the footing on other trails (where you cannot see any rocks or other obstacles under the snow), and a run that normally takes me 25 minutes took closer to 50. The only other people I saw were on snowshoes, out walking their dogs, one of whom quipped "Hey! That's not allowed!" as I 'stormed' past them up the hill.
Easy run it was not, but it was a ton of fun, and a great bit of strength training.
I'll post some pics as soon as I get them off my camera . . .
I'm in the process of finishing off my masters degree in Control Systems Engineering here in Colorado. Part of that requires that I take more credits than I usually would, and the credits I am taking are harder than they usually would be. All in all, that would be enough to eat up my free time and spit it out in tiny pieces. On top of that, I'm writing a masters thesis. On top of that there's a girl Ive been seeing for a bit over three months now.
That said, this last week as been my spring break. Rather than go anywhere warm, I opted to stay in Boulder and a) save money and b) get some work done. I could add a c) run a bunch in there and it would work perfectly. I believe I have the primary theorem for my Masters proven at this point, so my break has already been a success.
On the running front. Saturday afternoon I took off for a Mesa run with my friend Jessica. Neither of us has been running as much as we usually do, so it was a slow run, as evidenced by how quickly the CU mens track team overtook us on the way up. It was slightly depressing. But then, that's not unexpected.
Tuesday, I got my first real intensity workout in: 8x90s hills up Sanitas valley. They went pretty well, though I think I could have pushed myself a fair amount harder had I wanted to. This is the first workout of any intensity I've gotten in since I quit the training club almost a year ago, and it really drove home how much easier it is to push yourself with a team around you. But, I finished the workout, and my legs felt better than I expected them to.
Yesterday I had planned an easy run, in anticipation of a tempo workout today. However, I woke up to 6 inches of snow. That's fine, not that much. But by the time I ran at about 1:30, that had increased to 13 inches. So I decided, what the hell, let's go for a trail run in the powder.
I strapped on my Kahtoola Microspikes and headed out. As ever, the microspikes gave me a near-perfect grip on both the packed snow/ice of the roads and the 12 inches of powder on the trail. I once again ran up Sanitas Valley, as I didn't want to risk the footing on other trails (where you cannot see any rocks or other obstacles under the snow), and a run that normally takes me 25 minutes took closer to 50. The only other people I saw were on snowshoes, out walking their dogs, one of whom quipped "Hey! That's not allowed!" as I 'stormed' past them up the hill.
Easy run it was not, but it was a ton of fun, and a great bit of strength training.
I'll post some pics as soon as I get them off my camera . . .
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Crazy Weather
As expected in a mountain climate this time of year, the weather has been a little bit interesting lately. Last week it was in the upper 50's and 60's. I even went out for the first shirtless run of the year at one point. Normally, that does not happen in mid-January, but then, northern Minnesota has a bit of a different climate than Colorado.
In any case, yesterday, far from a shirtless run, it was a bit under 10 degrees and I ran for half my run into a brisk headwind, which made things yet more interesting. And this morning, on my walk to the bus stop, the temperature registered at a rather brisk -5. But that's ok, since where I'm from, the temp was a good ten degrees lower than that.
I have felt rather lazy lately. I've only been running 4-5 days a week. The semester has come on full force, and I'm taking 12 grad credits (which is a %133 course load), and TA'ing at the same time (for a rather less-than-impressive professor). Add to that skiing every Saturday, and trying to fit in a little bit of a social life in there somewhere, and it makes it difficult to find any sort of time to run at all.
So I've been lucky to get in 25 miles per week lately. If I really feel energetic, I get a few miles in after skiing on Saturday. But, as I telemark, I consider skiing a pretty good strength workout (imagine doing lunges down a hill, and you start to get the picture of the kind of workout it is). That said, no matter how tired my legs feel after skiing, my next run always feels amazing, as though I could go forever and not use any energy whatsoever.
I'm going to try to work up my mileage a bunch over the next two months. My next big race is not till April, when I have the Horsetooth Half. After that, it's a 5k to qualify for a decent Bolder Boulder wave, the BB itself, the Leadville Heavy Half in July, and Pikes Peak in August. Somewhere in there, I'll be pacing my friend SH in her attempt at the Leadville 100.
The year begins to take shape. Now the only question is where I might end up after I finish my degree and try to find a job.
Pics to come soon.
In any case, yesterday, far from a shirtless run, it was a bit under 10 degrees and I ran for half my run into a brisk headwind, which made things yet more interesting. And this morning, on my walk to the bus stop, the temperature registered at a rather brisk -5. But that's ok, since where I'm from, the temp was a good ten degrees lower than that.
I have felt rather lazy lately. I've only been running 4-5 days a week. The semester has come on full force, and I'm taking 12 grad credits (which is a %133 course load), and TA'ing at the same time (for a rather less-than-impressive professor). Add to that skiing every Saturday, and trying to fit in a little bit of a social life in there somewhere, and it makes it difficult to find any sort of time to run at all.
So I've been lucky to get in 25 miles per week lately. If I really feel energetic, I get a few miles in after skiing on Saturday. But, as I telemark, I consider skiing a pretty good strength workout (imagine doing lunges down a hill, and you start to get the picture of the kind of workout it is). That said, no matter how tired my legs feel after skiing, my next run always feels amazing, as though I could go forever and not use any energy whatsoever.
I'm going to try to work up my mileage a bunch over the next two months. My next big race is not till April, when I have the Horsetooth Half. After that, it's a 5k to qualify for a decent Bolder Boulder wave, the BB itself, the Leadville Heavy Half in July, and Pikes Peak in August. Somewhere in there, I'll be pacing my friend SH in her attempt at the Leadville 100.
The year begins to take shape. Now the only question is where I might end up after I finish my degree and try to find a job.
Pics to come soon.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Surfing Lake Superior
In the not-too-far-gone days of my childhood in northern Minnesota, I remember my favorite days being the windy summer days on Park Point, when the breakers would come in and we would bodysurf in the biggest freshwater lake in the world. Normally, the water never gets much above 50 degrees just a few inches below the surface, but if there was an East or Northeast Wind, it blew all the surface water towards the point, and if you were tough you could spend upwards of 10 minutes at a time in the water.
In the past decade or so, there has been an increasing population of Freshwater Surfers on the lake, and far from sticking to the warm, windy days in the summer, they surf year round. Now, I've swum in Lake Superior every month of the year, and while it's true that the water is much warmer than the air in the middle of the winter, it's still a risky proposition, and for me usually a "jump in, jump out, warm up" maneuver.
These guys, while fully equipped, are still tough. Here's, yet another, NYT article profiling them.
The Freshwater Surfers.
In the past decade or so, there has been an increasing population of Freshwater Surfers on the lake, and far from sticking to the warm, windy days in the summer, they surf year round. Now, I've swum in Lake Superior every month of the year, and while it's true that the water is much warmer than the air in the middle of the winter, it's still a risky proposition, and for me usually a "jump in, jump out, warm up" maneuver.
These guys, while fully equipped, are still tough. Here's, yet another, NYT article profiling them.
The Freshwater Surfers.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Cold Running
I've always been a proponent of this myself, but it's good to see that there is at least some evidence behind it. As usual, the NYT has a great article related to running. The "Personal Best" Column continues to be one of my favorites.
So, don't stop running just because you have a cold.
So, don't stop running just because you have a cold.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
The Bike Path Fartlek
Anybody who has run for a while probably knows what a fartlek is. If not, see my previous post on the subject. Fartleks are some of my favorite workouts, precisely because they require you to be in tune with your running, and at the same time can improve your fitness tremendously. Without a watch, they require even more awareness of your body.
As I mentioned in a previous post, I've started running without a watch most times. This requires me to adjust some of my typical workouts (intervals, fartleks, etc) and pay more attention to what I'm physically feeling, rather than what the numbers on my watch are telling me to do. So far I think I like this method.
One of the new workouts I've come up with for watchless training happened almost entirely by accident one night when I had not started running until late in the afternoon, and so had relegated my workout to the Boulder Creek Path, a place I normally avoid for several reasons. First, it's concrete, and I don't like running on roads period. Second, it's dark, and there are sometimes issues with people not paying attention. And third, it's populated by an extraordinary number of bikers, which might be expected on a bike path. However, this third negative allows for a rather interesting workout.
This particular night I was feeling quite randomly enerjectic. At one point, when a biker on a singlespeed passed me up, I decided to tag along behind him to see how long I could keep up. It turned out that it was quite a bit longer than I expected. I started doing this with every bike that passed me. It led to an interesting workout, and one that I now do on a more regular basis: what I call the "Bike Path Fartlek."
The rules are exactly what I just described: every time a bike passes you on the bike path, keep up with it for as long as you can. Granted this only works in select places (Boulder being one of them). It also leads to an incredibly varied workout. Certain bikers will go very slowly, allowing you to tag onto their wheel for a very long time. Others (especially in Boulder and like-minded areas) will blow by you and let you tag on at a full sprint for maybe 5-10 seconds. The most interesting are those that fall in between, where you might hit anything from an 800 pace to a 10k pace.
Let me tell you, it's a phenomenal workout. Uphill bike paths make it yet more interesting (the Canyon in Boulder is a good route for uphill enthusiasts). I do not recommend trying this downhill (it's rather dangerous, really, and hard on your knees).
At this point, I don't actually have a race planned until April sometime, at which point we will see how my methods are working (Horsetooth Half, anybody?).
As I mentioned in a previous post, I've started running without a watch most times. This requires me to adjust some of my typical workouts (intervals, fartleks, etc) and pay more attention to what I'm physically feeling, rather than what the numbers on my watch are telling me to do. So far I think I like this method.
One of the new workouts I've come up with for watchless training happened almost entirely by accident one night when I had not started running until late in the afternoon, and so had relegated my workout to the Boulder Creek Path, a place I normally avoid for several reasons. First, it's concrete, and I don't like running on roads period. Second, it's dark, and there are sometimes issues with people not paying attention. And third, it's populated by an extraordinary number of bikers, which might be expected on a bike path. However, this third negative allows for a rather interesting workout.
This particular night I was feeling quite randomly enerjectic. At one point, when a biker on a singlespeed passed me up, I decided to tag along behind him to see how long I could keep up. It turned out that it was quite a bit longer than I expected. I started doing this with every bike that passed me. It led to an interesting workout, and one that I now do on a more regular basis: what I call the "Bike Path Fartlek."
The rules are exactly what I just described: every time a bike passes you on the bike path, keep up with it for as long as you can. Granted this only works in select places (Boulder being one of them). It also leads to an incredibly varied workout. Certain bikers will go very slowly, allowing you to tag onto their wheel for a very long time. Others (especially in Boulder and like-minded areas) will blow by you and let you tag on at a full sprint for maybe 5-10 seconds. The most interesting are those that fall in between, where you might hit anything from an 800 pace to a 10k pace.
Let me tell you, it's a phenomenal workout. Uphill bike paths make it yet more interesting (the Canyon in Boulder is a good route for uphill enthusiasts). I do not recommend trying this downhill (it's rather dangerous, really, and hard on your knees).
At this point, I don't actually have a race planned until April sometime, at which point we will see how my methods are working (Horsetooth Half, anybody?).
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