SJ Ultra Vest: Trial Run

As I mentioned in my previous post, I received my Ultimate Direction Scott Jurek Ultra Vest last week, having ordered it the day it was released. Unfortunately, I received it while I was taking an extended period off of running to heal a nagging ankle injury, and also just before I headed to Chicago for work. So when I got back, I decided to take it for a test run.

And where better to test it than Green Mountain? I will grant you that, since it generally takes just over an hour, Green is not a full test of this vest. Normally I would run this with a handheld, also by UD, at most. But since I had taken time off and was not sure how long I could actually run, and how well my ankle would hold up, Green was the best option.

That, and I love Green Mountain.

First Impressions: Ok, to be honest, this is all first impressions, but here are my out of the box first impressions.

First, this thing is light. I pulled it out of the box and almost flung it over my head because I was expecting it to be heavier. Even with the bottles attached it feels remarkably light, so much so that I wondered how durable it might be. Knowing Scott, though, and his exacting nature, I have little doubt that it will hold up well.

Second: fit. After nearly throwing the vest across the room, I put it on. I had initially questioned getting the size medium instead of the large, as my chest measurements suggested I was right on the border, but I think I chose the right size. With the bottles empty, I could hardly tell I was wearing it, which of course is what you hope for from a running pack.

Third: there are a ton of pockets on this thing. Each bottle holder has two side pockets. There are two more velcro closed, mesh pockets right above each bottle, and an additional pocket (one mesh, one water-resistant) below. Each of the hip straps (for lack of a better term) has both a zipper pocket and a velcro pocket. And, of course, there are the two larger pockets on the back. One of these is smaller, suitable for sunglasses, hat, and probably gloves. The other is larger, which is equipped for a small hydration bladder, or in my case a larger camera.

Immediate concerns: These packs had been rolled out with a lot of hype, and rightly so. For some reason, this is one of the first times a hydration pack company has actually gone to well-known athletes to design their packs. It surprises me not at all that UD would be the company to do this.

And there were a few surprises, the most notable of which is that all three athletes wanted a pack that had the water bottles up front. They all opted for a vest style pack rather than a traditional pack.

I did have some concerns heading out on the trail initially, though. First, I was worried that the bottles would bounce around too much for my taste. And they do, just a bit. But it is surprisingly mild, and more side-to-side than up-and-down. I quickly forgot about it as I ran down the trail, and the ease of access made possible by having the bottles up front, rather than around back at your waste (for somebody with bad shoulders, that was always a problem with hip packs), more than made up for any initial bouncing.

Second, I was worried about balance. With my Katoa waste pack, if I drink too much from one bottle, or had one out for an extended period of time,  the whole pack tends to shift on my hips annoyingly. This was not a problem with the vest. I could definitely tell that one bottle was heavier than the other. How could you not? But the vest did not shift, nor did it feel at all uncomfortable. The one thing I noticed is that it is difficult to impossible to put the bottle back in its holster one-handed. Possibly unavoidable and not a big deal, but definitely noticeable.

My worry about durability cannot be spoken to yet. I'll get back to you in a couple years on that (hopefully).

Overall impression: This will definitely be my go-to pack for longer runs in the future. The combination of weight, convenience, and fit is unbeatable in my experience. The myriad pockets will make it possible to carry everything I need (gels, real food, gummies, electrolytes, and of course my car key) and keep them all separate. I can see the velcro pockets on the hips being used primarily to pack out my wrappers.

The large pocket on the back easily fits my camera, which is a primary concern for me as I love photography. I may need to find a new, smaller, better fitting case for my camera though, as my current case now seems overly large and unwieldy. I guess better design in one item makes me desire better design in others as well.

The drawstrings on the back of the pack securely held my GoLite wind jacket. Nothing much more to report there. I did notice the lower loops on the pack, designed to hold trekking poles or an ice axe. There appear to be areas on top to lash the trekking poles there as well, but I was not sure how you are supposed to do so, as there was no corresponding cord. Perhaps you're supposed to use the drawstring that secures your windbreaker?

It is a question I may ask UD or Scott, next time I see them.

As a final note, I got a lot of questions about the pack. As I mentioned, there has been a lot of buzz (forgive the pun, Buzz) about these packs, and people noticed. I even ran by a woman who works for UD, and she promptly took a couple pictures of me to share with the company. I am sure I sounded a little hedgy, but I always am with a new product.

That said, I give this pack full marks from my first run. I cannot wait to try it out on a longer adventure, and post my more considered thoughts at that point.

Guess What Came Today

Unfortunately my Ultimate Direction Scott Jurek Signature Series Ultra Vest came while I'm taking a short break to let a lingering ankle injury heal. But once that's better and I get a chance to try it out, I'll post a review.

A brief retrospective on Pikes

Today marks precisely three months after my Pikes Peak Marathon debut.  As my report at the time suggested, I was none too pleased with my result at the time. After some time to reflect, though, I have come to a bit of a different and, I hope, healthier perspective on the race.

As I pointed out at the time, it was not my best day. I had not slept very well the night before, nor had my nutrition and hydration been optimal in the days leading up to the race. These were both problems of my own creation, and I can chalk that down to experience.

Looking back at it now, the race was just that: experience. Pikes Peak was only my third marathon, and I had chosen what is generally regarded as one of the most difficult races in the country.  I had very little knowledge of the course, Matt Carpenter’s excellent course description notwithstanding, so I was not as prepared as I might have been for the fast, flat section in the middle on the way up and down. 

And I simply had a bad day. I had a few good miles at the outset, and a few good miles after the turnaround, for a total of 6 miles out of 26 where I felt ok.  Not an ideal ratio.

But I finished. I slogged through 20 difficult miles. I had time after time where I thought I would give up but turned that around and finished in spite of it. And I think that kind of stubbornness and determination will only help me as I continue in my racing career.

All in all, despite my initial disappointment, I have to count this as a win.

Race Report: Highlands Ranch Backcountry Wilderness Half Marathon

Those of you who read this blog may be thinking "wait, you ddin't say anything about racing!" Those of you who know the Denver area might be thinking "wait, a Highlands Ranch Backcountry race?"

Both questions have a point. I heard about this race a couple weeks ago, and after the Bear Creek 10-spot was postponed to the weekend I was in Santa Fe, it moved up a notch. After reading Dave Mackey's race report, I decided, a good 5 minutes before online registration closed, to bite the bullet and sign up.

As for the second question, it will be explained in the report that follows.

The forecast, as of the night before the race, was for rain at the start turning to snow some time during the race. In Colorado, this always carries the risk of the infamous Colorado mud, that conglomeration of soil and sand that builds up with each step until it cakes to an inch thick on the sole of each shoe and then flies off, leaving just enough to slow your pace.

Fortunately, when I got to the start, it was still clear, and about 55 degrees, though the clouds were piling over the hills of the front range, promising the snow that was forecast. Despite my complete lack of taper, my legs had a surprising amount of pep in them as we lined up at the start. It turns out, we all lined up facing the wrong way, and after a little reshuffling, the gun fired and we were on our way.

After the inevitable fast start, I settled in to what I felt was a sustainable pace, and churned up the first, paved, mile in a little under 7 minutes. We said goodbye to pavement and took a sharp left down a dirt double-track that wound over rolling hills. Mile 3 took us under a road to single track for the first time, and a sustained uphill mountain back track.

I was still feeling solid here, though I had noticed that my GPS mileage did not match the posted miles, where they were posted. But I still felt good, and passed through three and four miles sustaining my average of 7 minute pace. I was pleasantly surprised by this point with the quality of the course. There had been a mix of bike path (inevitable in the suburbs), dirt road, double track, and single track.

Back under the road at the "top" of the hill, and we hit the infamous rollers, man made humps for mountain bikers, that take all the pep out of your legs on the way up, and spring you back on the way down, all while still heading generally uphill.

Surprisingly, though, I had managed to keep my effort reasonable and my legs still felt decent as I hit a stretch of rolling hills. I kept the effort up and stuck it out, and was rewarded when, hearing a shout behind me, I turned around to watch a buck (a good 14 points plus) vault over the fence and dash into the field. It was an almost surreal experience watching that big an animal leap a 5 foot fence with seemingly no trouble.

Rolling section done, I made it to the high point of the course: 7 miles in, the course hit a section of dirt road where I could pick up the pace to 6:40 or so, before dropping down on single track. It was here that the promised precipitation finally began to fall. In the form of ice pellets flying at you from the slide and stinging your face. Fortunately this would later turn to wet snow, which is much less unpleasant.

Dropping down onto the single track, I initially sped up and gained some time. I quickly realized, though, that the trail was iced mud the whole way. Any misstep would send me careening off the trail and into the trees.

Still, I felt alright. And in mile 9, I looked up, and saw a herd of elk bounding across the meadow in front of me. Another completely unexpected wildlife sighting in what was, after all, the middle of a Denver suburb.

Miles 10 and 11 were both mostly uphill single track. And here I finally felt the pace and the distance. I put in a good effort, and was told by a guy at the finish line that I really took off here. He had thought he could catch me up (from 5 people back) on the hill, but ended up losing ground. A good indication that my training has been successful.

This section seemed endless. It consisted of winding, uphill single track. Every so often you could catch a glimpse of the next switchback, and each time it looked like the next switchback was the top, but the hill just kept going.

Whatever I accomplished up the hill in leaving people behind, I lost at the top. The trail topped out at another rolling, but mostly downhill, single track section, and I didn't up the pace enough. I knew I was close to the finish line now, but there were no longer any mile markers, and my GPS was unreliable, so I was unsure how much was left. Had I known, I would have pushed a bit harder.

I didn't, and I got caught by several people here as the race descended back to the start line, once again hitting the bike path. I was unsure of whether the race would head straight for the finish line, or ring the park as it did on way out. Turns out it went straight for the finish line, meaning I did not kick when I should (well, I kept sub 6:30 pace, but I didn't kick as much as I should have).

Still, it was a solid race, and I'm happy with the result. I ran a 1:33:04 on a tough trail course, which Dave Mackey reported as having 1800 feet of vertical. I ran my own race, not getting sucked in to the fast start, and not letting my pace slack too much. I came in 21st place, in a race which saw the top two men and the top woman beat the course record. I was strong on the hills, and solid on the technical downhills, and kept the pace sharp on the flats.

Of course, there are always areas for improvement. I still think, despite the comment of the other runner, that I could have pushed harder on the uphills. I certainly could have pushed it more on the flats, since the 6:30 pace at the end didn't feel as hard as I would have expected.

The race was an affirmation. I am in good shape, and I'm building my confidence in the (slightly) longer races. My legs, over all, still feel pretty good. I think my hill-emphasis in training, combined now  with trail tempos and fartleks, is making a big difference.

As for the race organization, the race was well marked, and anywhere you could easily take a wrong turn, there was either a clear arrow or a race volunteer. The one thing I would change is the aid stations. The first was at about 4 miles. Then there was a gap until mile 10 (should have been one more, not sure if I missed it or if it was not set up), and another in the last mile (which nobody used). It would not have been an issue had I brought even a mini-bottle. A minor issue, in the grand scheme of things.

Oh. Did I mention this was a 17 minute PR?

Fall Pictures

My last few posts have been a little more wordy, with fewer pictures than usual. I will rectify that. Here are a few pictures from an autumn of running. 

South Boulder Creek from the trail down to Walker Ranch

Bird in a tree, also from the Walker Ranch run.

A splash of fall color along the trail.

More than a splash of fall color. 

Longs Peak from the trail to Emerald Lake. This will be part of my Glacier Gorge Traverse next summer.

Flat Top Mountain and Hallett Peak from  Dream Lake. One of my favorite views in the park, and often photographed.  Also on the Glacier Gorge Traverse.

Just a cool picture.

Hitting the Roads

There are many reasons I love running. For trail running, at least, it is relatively obvious: I love getting out into the woods, or mountains, or plains, and covering ground. It is immensely freeing to be out there with nothing but your feet and maybe a water bottle and some gels to get you from point A to point B, or from valley C to summit D. The technicality of running on oft-times uneven, difficult, and even dangerous trails only adds to the appeal.

I love trail running enough that I sometimes forget the advantages of road running. These came storming, literally, back to me on Wednesday night. The weather had gone, in under 24 hours, from sunny and 80 to rainy and 40. Nonetheless, the run at the Boulder Running Company commenced as ever.

Reason number one for running on roads: it’s easier to do in bad weather and at night. Had I planned a trail run that day, I would have run earlier, and would have missed the best part of the storm. Indeed, running in bad weather is often when I have the most fun. Something about the pure audaciousness of flinging yourself into the wind as fast as you can, and damn the stinging ice and snow that may be flying at your face.

And talking, yelling, and laughing while you’re doing so.

Reason number two I love road running: the company. It’s not that you can’t run on trails with company. In my experience, though, road running is more conducive to conversation, since you can run in a pack instead of single file.

This particular night, I took off, and soon found myself running in surprising company. I started off with a guy who has a 2:12 marathon PR, and came in fourth in the trials 4 years ago. We in turn latched on to several more people who had various course records and the half-marathon and marathon distance. And for good measure, we picked up a guy who won the Western States 100, 7 times in a row.

I made some comment to the effect that I was under qualified to be running in such company, which they laughed off. And sure enough, we were soon all laughing, joking, and yelling our way down the bike path.

And speeding up.

Reason number three I love road running: speed. You can run fast down the trail, and up the trail, and across the trail. But on a trail you always have to be aware of where you place your feet, moderating your stride so you don’t twist an ankle or trip over a rock. On the roads, you can lose yourself in the speed.

So while I love trail running, and will always choose trails over roads when picking a run, I am glad I have the BRC run every week to remind me of the values of tearing up the roads once a week. 

Another Minimalist Running Study, plus a Saucony Xodus mini review

Once again, Dr. Kram's lab has produced some interesting results about barefoot/minimalist running. And once again it got a shout out in the New York Times (here).

I must admit to a bias. I had the opportunity more than once to run for Rodger's lab at CU, and my sister worked for him during her graduate work. Still, interesting stuff.

I can say myself that I have noticed this phenomenon as well. In a shoe with just a bit more cushion, I find myself running faster than in one with less. Say my Peregrines (may they rest in peace) versus my Inov8's. My current go-to trail shoe is the Saucony Xodus 2, the newer version of which was recently reviewed over at iRunFar. I've run 350 miles in them so far, and the tread and overall structure is holding up well. The sidewalls are a beginning to break down and blow out, which is the same problem I've had with the Peregrines, but I anticipate being able to put at least 500 on these babies.

My one beef with these shoes is the grippiness on bare rock. I ran Longs in these three times this summer, and while for the most part I was ok on the upper sections (trough, narrows, etc) there were sections where I wish I'd had more grip on the bare rock. I've recently started wearing a pair of Inov8 Trailrocs, the 245 version with a 3mm drop, and find them to be much more trustworthy on rocks.

But again, they don't have the cushion of the Xodus. I may try the 255, but I'm not sure that would make much of a difference.

Back

I had intended to title this post “Back with a vengeance,” however, after this past Saturday it does not seem quite appropriate any longer. My vengeance, as it were, kind of fizzled out over the last couple days.

After returning, seemingly triumphantly, to running the past couple weeks, I’ve hit some setbacks. These are probably caused as much by overzealousness as anything else. I likely pushed it too hard, too fast, and may have hindered my comeback.

Last Saturday, it was raining and cold here on the Front Range, so I chose to forego my plan to run up in James Peak Wilderness and ran up Bear Peak in Boulder instead. I had not run this route since the fire earlier this year, and thought it might be interesting to see what the trail looked like.

Everything went well, leg-wise, and I was making good time on the climb from the South Mesa Trailhead. As I continued to climb, however, it got more and more icy. Past the Fern Canyon Saddle, ice covered every surface, and even in the flat, cloud-obscured light the forest looked like a wonderland of crystal. A single spider web hung from a rock, eye level due to the steep slope I was ascending, looked more like diamond than silk.

As I ascended yet further, though, what before had been merely pretty became dangerous. The ice thickened to upwards of a quarter of an inch, to the point where I could no longer reliably break through it with my steps. I had not thought to need screw shoes this early in the season.

The third time I slipped and slid backwards in an uncontrolled heap, I realized that, while I could likely get up the remainder of the trail, and still hit the peak in under an hour from the South Mesa Trailhead, I was not sure I’d be able to get down again safely. I opted to turn around and head back down, racing back down Mesa to my car.

The following week went well, for the most part. Over five days I put in 4 runs for about 22 miles and 4500 feet of vertical. Nothing too drastic, but then I was still just getting back into the swing of things. I did notice, though, that the ankle I had sprained a few weeks before was still somehow bothering me.

Friday afternoon in particular was an excellent run. I made it up Flagstaff in a reasonable time (I think, I was not wearing a watch but it felt like a good easy effort). On the way down, though, I finally got into a good downhill groove. I was fairly flying down the slopes. At one point, where the trail paralleled the road, albeit 15 feet higher, I startled a pair of cyclists heading down Flagstaff. I must have looked like quite the apparition, darting down the slope at nearly the same speed they were riding.  

Saturday, in a word, sucked. I struck out for the Mesa Trail, not thinking of getting a PR in or anything, but feeling good. The good feeling lasted from South Mesa until about NCAR: all of four miles. The remaining nine miles were punctuated every other step by pain from my left ankle. While I still finished the whole trail in 2:10, I was not feeling good, and I ended up a good 14 minutes of my PR.

Today (Monday) my ankles seemingly feel worse than ever. This has encouraged me to take the day off of running, at least, and maybe explore the trails around Standley Lake on my mountain bike.

Perhaps tomorrow will be another running day. One can only hope. 

A Much Needed Rest

Well, I’m back. And in more ways than one.

I took the last two weeks off of running. A month ago, I twisted my ankle running on, of all things, a paved bike path. The following week, I woke up one morning, hoping to go for an easy run, and found that I could hardly walk from my bedroom to my bathroom due to a sharp pain in my fourth metatarsal.

This, combined with a general listlessness, suggested that, after a summer of hard running and harder races, I should maybe take a little time off and let my body catch up a little bit. This I duly did, and it seems in general to have done what I hoped. If nothing else, I am now so anxious to run each day that there are times I find it difficult to sit at my desk all day at work.

Back, now, to before I decided to take time off. I had already been having a bit of trouble in early September keeping my running consistent. After Pikes, I did not recover as quickly or as well as I would have hoped. Combine that with trying to find a new place to live, and you have a recipe for poor running. Given that I had intended to run a marathon in Moab in early November, I was rather disappointed with this.

I have since dropped the plans to do the marathon, but enough of my friends are going that I may yet register for the half (expensive as it is) , and try to simply enjoy myself on what looks to be an awesome course.

We shall see.

Despite the time off, and the inconsistent running through September, I am actually feeling good about my fitness. The last run before I took my time off, a 12 mile jaunt up Green and Flagstaff after work on a random Wednesday night, I set a new PR up green of 37:31, despite feeling like I was not trying that hard. This replaces my prior PR, set a week and a half before, of 38:28.

Jumping forward again to the present, I woke up this morning, in my new house (rented, not bought), walked out to my car, and found about a quarter inch of snow covering the grass. This is the first snow of the year, and accompanies a drastic drop in the temperature around here. From Wednesday’s high of 85, it dropped to a high of 45 yesterday. While that might be discouraging for some, it gets my blood flowing, and I’m already planning a good long run up in the James Peak area tomorrow.

The high down in Boulder is below 40, so we shall see what it’s like up there. This will likely necessitate the first donning of my tights this year. 

A few new Pics

I have done a fair amount of high-country "running" lately. I use running in quotation marks because much of it, as is often the case with true mountain routes, was not done at a typical running pace. However, it was faster than most people would be able to climb, so I shall for now use the "moving efficiently over terrain" definition of running.

If it's good enough for Geoff Roes, it's good enough for me.

Rather than get long-winded about my adventures, I'll just post some pics. Two weekends ago, I took a shot at Square Top mountain, across Guanella Pass form Bierstadt. IT was a fun, if easy, thirteener, which had the distinction of being much, much quieter than Bierstadt and not having a trail to speak of.

Square Top. We took the route to the left (south) in this pic.

Cool Green Bug on the trail

Evans (L) and Bierstadt(L) from the top of Square Top

The next day, G and I did Democrat, a Fourteener in the Ten Mile-Mosquito Range. She climbed like a champ, given that she hadn't done any hiking all summer.

Climbing Democrat.

For some reason, I missed the opportunity for a summit pic of the two of us. This is looking back down at the Cirque between Democrat, Cameron, and Bross.

This past weekend, I took a shot at Meeker Ridge. This is the most prominent ridge on Meeker, and also lacks a defined trail. For the most part, at least. I discovered on the way down that there were, in fact, cairns leading you to the correct route: I just missed the cutoff for the correct route and ended up bushwhacking through the woods for a long time. This is a route I hope to do again, now that I know how to proceed.

From the Ridge, looking over Wild Basin, towards a peak whose name I cannot place right now.  

There was a bit of a trail, but nothing too impressive. 

Looking back up at the Ridge, from Lookout Mountain. those clouds came over me within 10 minutes of this pic.

Pikes Peak Marathon 2012: Race Report

Less than half an hour into the race, I knew it was going to be a long, painful slog to the finish. And I still had 23 miles, and 5000+ feet of climbing to go.

The ultimate goal for the day, illuminated by classic Alpenglow.

In retrospect, I probably could have seen it sooner. Two nights before the race, my friend, who is 4 years into a 6 year stint with the Navy, came into town. This meant, naturally, that we went out, and had more to drink than I usually do. The next day, the power went out right around the time we were going to eat dinner, and I ended up eating corn and chicken instead of my normal spaghetti. Add that to the general fatigue in my legs that had been present all week, and the Pikes Peak Marathon seemed a whole lot longer.

Three miles in, near the top of the famous "W's," I was still feeling ok, but I could tell that my legs were not all there. I could cruise faster than most on the following flats and mild uphills, catching many. I was still on and under my goal splits for this section of the race. I was still hopeful, but realization was dawning in me that this would not be a breakthrough race for me.

After Barr Camp, though, I blew up. I asked my legs for ore juice for the climb, and they had nothing to give. Far, far sooner than I would normally need to, at a shallow grade, I slowed to a hike. People started passing me, and though I intended to follow all of them, my legs refused to function.

At 12000', past the A-frame, Kilian Jornet flew down, smiling, laughing, and yelling "great job" at the people he passed. He had clearly not broken the record, but was just as clearly firmly in the lead and not in the least bit worried about the competition. Indeed, he broke his age group record for the descent while looking effortless.

Meanwhile, I continued my slow plod to the top. I had considered, every half mile or so for the past 8 miles, dropping out and saving myself for another day. But I quashed that thought, and continued. Even at 13 and 14 thousand feet, I was unable to push myself to the point where I was breathing hard. It says a ton about my acclimatization, but not much about my fitness on the day.

Nonetheless, I finished the ascent in a decently respectable 3:20, and turned to head down. Down past the A-Frame, I was feeling good again, and passing people while not being passed myself. But again, after three miles of the novel downhill section, my legs gave out.

I slogged through Barr Camp and back along the flats, struggling to hold even a 10 minute mile pace at times. Then, on an embarrassingly smooth stretch of trail, I found myself suddenly lying on my side with the taste of dust in my mouth. I had tripped over the only tree root within 50 yards. But lucky for me the next runner on the trail was nice enough to stop and give me a hand up before cruising by. At this point, another runner I had passed already on the way down trotted by as well.

Discouraging.

The remaining 6 miles to the finish is best left undescribed. I  made my way to the finish for a time of 5:22. My friends and training partners had come in at 4:22 and 4:39 for 10th and 18th place.

I have had many tell me since that, given the kind of day I had, coming in at 59th place overall and 9th in my age group is nothing to complain about. And I know they are right. But I am still frustrated and disappointed with the result.

Next time. I will learn from this and I will dial in my next marathon (or ultra?) that much better.

Edit 8-23: I have already decided on my next race: the Moab Trail Marathon on November 4. Between now and then I will be doing several shorter races, including a 2k and a 4 mile trail race, to up my tolerance for higher turnover.

Focus!

It's taper time once again.

Pikes Peak Marathon is on Sunday, the 19th, and my legs are, to put it mildly, not cooperating. My quads have been feeling out of sorts ever since a few days after my last Longs Peak run. I took it easy on the downhill, but I think I pounded my legs a little too much in trying to stay slow, trying not to a) injure myself or b) injure anybody else among the hordes on the trail that day.

Fortunately, I still have a good four days left, and my legs are starting to feel better after a few short, flat runs. Tomorrow will be a bit of a test, and then it will be short, flat runs until Pikes on Sunday. All I need to do now is focus on the race, and put my nonresponsive legs out of my mind.

Given the idea I have brewing, focusing on a marathon is proving difficult. But more on that post run.

I, for one, am looking forward to posting my own time with Matt Carpenter, Max King, and Kilian Jornet.  It should be an epic race.

Playing around in the Collegiate Peaks

Looking down Browns Pass towards Princeton

Two weeks ago, I was lucky enough to have my Mom's side of the family come out to Buena Vista, CO, for a week-long reunion. I had been excited about this for a long time, since the Collegiate Peaks are prime running territory, and the trip might afford me some great training for the Pikes Peak Marathon (now coming up in under two weeks!).

While I was excited, I also knew that, this being a reunion, family was first priority, and whatever good runs (beyond my normal daily routine) I could fit in would be an added bonus.

So, losing no time, the first morning I was there, while everybody was still settling in, I headed up to the Denny Creek Trailhead outside of BV, and up Browns Pass. This trailhead also leads to the trail up Mt Yale, one of Colorado's 14ers, but I decided to leave that for a later day. To my surprise and delight, the trail, after an initial, steep, half mile uphill, proved reasonably mellow and soft, save for a few technical sections. Five miles and 2200 feet or so later, I was halfway through a near-perfect run.

Marmot

I had, the weekend before, had probably the worst run of my life. A trip up James Peak, a lost, and eventually returned, camera, and poor nutritional choices had led to a 16 mile run taking 4:15, including some walked downhills. A quick, sub two-hour, beautiful run was exactly what I needed to come back from the disappointment that was the James Peak run.

The next day, my sister and her husband arrived, and we quickly headed back up to the same trail (at 3:30PM). My sister wanted to get some running and quiet reading in, and my brother-n-law and I decided to see what we could do on Yale in a reasonable amount of time. 3300 feet and a couple hours later, we realized there was no chance to make the summit, turned around, and headed back down the mountain to find my sister finishing Kara Goucher's book on running. This stands as one of my favorite hikes ever.

The sky near Yale was stunning

My brother-in-law would return to Yale a few days later to summit. That day, I headed over to the North Cottonwood Trailhead for a 2.5-hr run, to see what I could do on Harvard. Once again, I did not summit due to time constraints. I had a ziplining appointment at 2PM that I didn't want to miss. But once again, I had a fantastic run,  putting in a tempo effort up the trail, and then flying down it at, according to my watch, 5:40 mile pace.

All in all, an excellent week in the mountains. Part of me was inclined to be annoyed that I did not get to summit any peaks during the week, but I realized that, summits or not, I was getting great training in at altitude.

And the training paid off. Less than a week after I got back, I headed back to Longs Peak to get a final, big mountain training run in before Pikes. Despite again not feeling fresh, I took a full 18 minutes off my ascent time, bounding up the homestretch to reach the top in 2:18. And I did so in front of no other than Andy Anderson, Park Ranger and holder of the Longs Peak RT FKT.  I descended in a lazy 1:55 for a 23 minute PR on Longs.

Meeker from Longs 

Tons of people on the trail. Probably slowed my descent down from what it could have been. Andy is the ranger in yellow on the right.

Finally, this young bull elk posed for several pictures 3 miles from the trailhead.

Longs Peak

Despite the title of this post, I'll start out with a picture of Mt Rainier I took last week during fieldwork in Washington.

We have some impressive mountains here in Colorado, the subject of the remainder of this post being one of them, but our peaks don't hold a candle to the Cascade volcanoes. They rise, seemingly out of nowhere (well, out of a magma plume, but I don't want to get too terribly dorky here) and in Rainier's case thrust 14000 feet from sea level, utterly dwarfing the mountains around them.

And at any point, they could blow their tops, as Mt St Helens did three years before I was born. 

Back to Colorado.

After I got back from Washington, I decided the time had come to run Longs. I have lived in Boulder for years now, seeing this mountain dominating the skyline every time I drove up 36 from Denver, and yet for no apparent reason I had never climbed it. So, Saturday morning, after taking the chance to sleep in, I decided to give it a go. 

I reached the trailhead late enough that I had to park a good half-mile down the road. I expected as much, arriving at 10AM when most hikers leave between 2 and 3 in the morning. Remembering to put on sunscreen, I strapped on my UD Katoa waistpack, grabbed an extra water bottle in a UD Quickdraw, and headed up the shallow trail, 5100' of climbing and 7 1/2 miles of running and scrambling ahead of me. 

As sometimes is the case, I felt sluggish the first two or three miles. When I got up out of the forest, and to treeline, I started to feel a little more energetic, and picked up the pace a bit. Past the Chasm Lake junction, I felt even better and proceeded up to the Boulder field in just over half an hour. The boulder field, I think, was the most fun I had on the trip. Rather than follow the track, I regressed back to my days in Minnesota, rock-hopping along the shores of Lake Superior, and took a direct route to the keyhole, crossing the field and making it to the keyhole in under 15 minutes. 

The Keyhole

Beyond this, I had been a little nervous about the route. I knew it grew significantly more exposed and more of a scramble than a run. I surprised myself, though, by finding this section unimposing, and actually quite fun. I started to run into more people descending the route, here, and was often forced to take a higher or lower route across the Narrows, and a steeper route up the Trough, scrambling in truth now where I had danced across the Narrows.

Around here people started to notice me (the bright green shirt might have helped) and began to a) get out of my way and b) ask me when I had started and how long I expected to take to get to the summit. When I told them 10AM and 2:30, respectively, most decided I was crazy. I neglected to mention Tony's recent 1:42 up this route.

I did not, unfortunately, make it to the summit in the 2:30 I had hoped. I realized this wouldn't happen while scrambling the Home Stretch, and let it go. I finally crested the top at 12:36, exactly 2:36 from the car.

By this point, though, some storm clouds were forming, and after a few quick pics, I took off down the same route I went up.

The weather that chased me all the way down and caught me in the parking lot.

The summit. I was amazed how huge it was, though I had known and expected it.

Looking back down the Homestretch, some climbers are visible in the distance.

I took my time descending, and by this point my quads were telling me it would be a long run back to the car. By the boulder field, I was less running and more picking my way, even taking the path for a brief period. Nonetheless, the last several miles were quick, as I (barely) outpaced the rain to my car.

Total time running was 4:34. I took some time to look around on the way down, making my car-to-car time (including the extra half mile each way) was 5 hours flat.

All in all, a very fun day on the mountain. I learned that I am, to my surprise, quite comfortable on the semi-scrambling bits. I am also, apparently, quite surprisingly quick on these sections, choosing to bolt forward in short bursts, taking short breaks when needed, rather than move at a steady slog. In the words of one other climber, who I saw on my way up, and passed again on my way down the trough, I "crushed it."

And I caught the bug: looking forward to another adventure on Meeker this weekend.

Leadville Marathon 2012: Race Report.

Well,  the marathon is over for another year. I made one of my three goals, which is clearly that of beating my time from last year. I admit my first goal was decidedly a reach for me, and very likely my second as well. Simply put: Leadville is a tough race, with 6300 feet of climbing and descending in a 26 mile course.

So, am I disappointed in the race? I must admit to a little bit, but very little for all that. Rather than do a blow-by-blow account of the race, I'll break from tradition and just give a general breakdown of what I did right and wrong, and my general thoughts and lessons from this race.

First of all: what I did wrong.

Or maybe rather than wrong I should say I was careless for most of these.

This started long before the race. Wednesday, while I was supposed to be tapering and taking it easy, I ran 11 miles, doubling for the day, with some up-tempo miles in there. That is never a great idea right before a race, and I think it led to some lingering fatigue on the start line. But I won't beat myself up about that, since I run because I love it, and the run on Wednesday afternoon was very enjoyable.

The second way I was careless was in my packing. For the most part I was ready days ahead of time for the race itself. What I was not ready for was breakfast the day of the race. Traditionally for me this is a double-dose of Quaker Instant Oatmeal (Maple and Brown Sugar flavor). Unfortunately, I neglected to pack any sort of utensils. My backup was bread with peanut butter and jelly, but I opened my bread to find it moldy. I ended up eating a granola bar and a cliff bar for breakfast. I'm not sure that was enough for somebody like me.

The only other thing I can say that I did wrong was not push hard enough up Mosquito Pass. But this is also something I did right.

On the starting line Saturday morning, I looked up at the pass and wondered just why I was doing this again. This race had wrecked me last year, physically and emotionally. I knew what was in front of me, but I signed up again.

This time, though, I knew what I was getting into. I knew the course, and I knew my own abilities better than last year. I decided on a plan: I didn't want to feel anything until after I got down from Mosquito Pass. I remembered last year that I had been strong until the bottom of the pass, and had ended up walking flats and even some downhills afterwards.

So I took it easier than I thought I needed to. I hit the first aid station 2 minutes slower than last year, stride for stride with another Boulder runner I've encountered now and then on the trails. Hitting the bottom of the pass, 10 miles into the race with a 3 mile, 2000 foot climb ahead of me, I felt fresh. I alternated running and power hiking up the pass, whichever felt more efficient for the grade, running my own race and not worrying much about the other marathoners. I knew my race would come in the last ten miles.

And my plan worked. I hit the bottom of the pass in good shape, compared to last year. I was running the road up to Ball Mountain, where I had walked last year. I even ran most of the way around Ball Mountain, which I mostly walked the previous year.

I also took better care of my nutrition and hydration this year. I took a gel every 45 minutes. Every aid station, I topped off my (mostly empty) water bottle and downed a cup of Gu-Bru. And at the top of Mosquito Pass I took to S-Caps, just to be safe.

I ran my own race, had my nutrition dialed in, and passed 5 or 6 runners in the last 10 miles while being passed by 2. A much smarter race than last year, yet I shaved only 4 minutes off my time.

Which makes me consider again just how hard a race this is. My synopsis: I took too far on the "taking it easy." I probably could have shaved a good 2-3 minutes off my first 4 miles, and 3-5 minutes off my time up Mosquito Pass and been ok for the last 10 miles.

So, am I pleased  with my race? Very much so. Am I also a little annoyed and disappointed? Of course. But if everything goes perfectly, you don't learn anything. In that spirit:

Things done right:
1) Had a race plan, and stuck to it (in spite of occasional doubt).
2) Nutrition/hydration.
3) I took the chance to enjoy the race, the scenery, and chat with some other runners.

Things learned:
1) TAPER!!!
2) It doesn't matter if you remember your Oatmeal if you forget your spoon.
3) I'm in better shape than I've ever been, and can therefore push a little harder.

(On a side note, I was very happy to run into a number of people I knew at this race. Several people mentioned knowing who I was from the Wednesday runs at the BRC. There was also a sizable contingent from Boldrunning there, including one very vocal spectator. It made the finish line that much more fun.)

And I'm Off

Sayonara.

I'm off to Leadville for the night before the race tomorrow!

Primary Goal: 4:15
Secondary Goal: 4:30
Tertiary Goal: My time from last year: 4:46.

Given my vastly superior fitness this year, I should be able to manage at least #3, probably #2 as well.

James Peak Dreams

With Boulder smashing several heat records in the past few days, and a large portion of the state on fire, it seemed like a good weekend to get up high. This being Colorado, everybody had the same idea, and the high country was packed with people of all ages, and abilities, all weekend. 

After an excellent day on Saturday (finally) experiencing the Georgetown Loop narrow gauge railroad (picture above), I decided to head up to the James Peak Wilderness Area on Sunday. In July, I will have lived in Boulder for a full 7 years, and yet somehow I have never been up to the James Peak area. I can only claim ignorance on my part, and possibly I was deterred by the 8 mile dirt road to the trailhead. I had naturally assumed this might be a road similar to the road to the Fourth of July trailhead, but I could average 45 on this road without worrying about my car. 

Once there, I had no idea what trail to take. I only knew I did not want to go too crazy with the marathon coming up in under a week now. Luckily I ran into a couple friendly former trail runners (I did not ask about the "former" designation), who directed me up Rogers Pass trail to Heart Lake. 

The runners had warned me that this was a steep trail, but I found it to be a very relaxed grade, rising only 2000 feet or so in the 4 miles to the lake. The run itself is gorgeous, crossing South Boulder Creek and its tributaries numerous times as it winds its way up towards Rogers Lake and the (eventual) path. At no point did the grade feel steep to the point that it would be more efficient to walk. 

About a mile (rough estimate: I didn't wear a watch) from Heart Lake, the trail takes a marked turn upwards, alongside a many-channeled cascade, which at the time I ran it was full of wildflowers. 

As you can see, it was actually cloudy. I was not complaining.

Half a mile later, it came alongside Rogers (Pass?) Lake, through a boggy patch, reminiscent of Minnesota, and I noticed something surprising: several miles in, and almost 2000 feet up, my legs felt fresh. There was no feeling of effort the entire way up, and I crushed the last half mile or so up to Heart Lake (startling a couple unsuspecting hikers along the way).

From Heart Lake, the trail continues up the side of a mountain up to the Divide. 

The clouds don't look bad, but they were rumbling.

I opted out of running to the ridge this particular day. Between the marathon next Saturday, and the rumbling clouds, I decided it wasn't a good idea. Either on its own might not have deterred me, but the last thing I wanted to do was race down the side of a mountain in a thunderstorm and risk messing up my ankle this week. So instead, I stopped, took a few pictures of the area, and the peaks I want to tag next time, and turned around for a leisurely run back to the car. 

The view around Heart Lake.

Unidentified "to be tagged" peak #1

Unidentified "to be tagged" peak #2

Unidentified "to be tagged" peak #3 and 4

 I actually felt a few drops of rain on my way down, good news for a state that seems to be on fire.

Round trip, this run took me about 2 hours, but as I said, I was not pushing it. Now that I've seen James Peak Wilderness, I am astounded that I have not been up there before. Between Leadville and Pikes, I fully plan to grab a map, take off early some Sunday morning, and tag James Peak and several of these other peaks. They are just begging for it.

Meanwhile, the taper for Leadville is in full force. I think I might be able to throw down a bit on Saturday.

June 20, 2012: An interesting week so far.

It has indeed been an interesting week so far, both in running and in the rest of my life, and it's only just Wednesday.

Let's begin at the beginning. As was my plan, I ran High Lonesome again this week, to acclimatize further for my race in Leadville in a week and a half. This time, though, I got the pleasure of running with another Boulder Trail Runner. He had emailed the BTR group earlier in the week, and on a whim I responded saying I was going to run it on Sunday if he wanted to come. So I picked him up and off we went.

It turns out he was a little tired from running 9000' so far that week. I was feeling pretty decent, so I ended up waiting more than usual. But that was fine with me, since I was not interested in pushing too hard in any case. Once we got up to the divide, though, there was no option but to push hard. The wind was blowing at a good 20mph constantly with much stronger gusts, and it was an effort just to keep going and not fall over. King Lake trail was still a bit of a mess, but somebody had been up with an axe and taken care of some of the trees that had been across the trail last time. And even with the slow pace, the wind, and the trees, we hit the bridge at 3:12, a full 12 minutes faster than last week.

With that run behind me, I planned on a short run Monday, followed by a run up Flagstaff on Tuesday morning. The high for both days was in the upper 90s, so I hit the trail early on Monday and put in 4 miles. At the end, though, I was dismayed to look down at my shoes and find that I had busted through the sidewalls. I had only put 220 miles on them, but off to the BRC I went. There, of course, I ran into a couple friends who were heading for Flagstaff from the store.

Naturally, I opted to go with them on Monday rather than by myself on Tuesday. These two particular runners are fast (one was an Olympic Marathon alternate four years ago) so it ended up being a bit of a tempo run for me. Nonetheless, I set the pace on the way up, and kept up the whole run, for a good 10 mile, 80+ min, 1500'+ run.

With that, I opted to take Tuesday off, knowing that I would get a good run in on Wednesday. And sure enough, when I showed up today, there were Jason Hartmann and Tyler McCandless, along with the regular crowd. We had a group of 25 or so go out at 6:45, and negative split the whole way.

To my astonishment, not only did I keep up the whole distance, but I didn't even feel like I was pushing hard. For comparison, I went at a 6:50 pace last week and felt like I was pushing it. I think I've arrived at just the right time.

Now, for the not so fun bit. My home town of Duluth, MN, home of Grandma's Marathon was hit by severe flooding today. They got upwards of 9 inches of rain in a 24 hour period. Flash floods took out part of a hotel, caused streets to drop by 4 feet plus, and causes sinkholes to open up. My parents' house was spared any damage, thankfully. The zoo was not so lucky, however. Two seals got out and ended up flopping and swimming down a nearby (busy) street. One of the polar bears made a (short) dash for freedom. And sadly, 11 of their animals drowned.

More info is here. I am considering going back to volunteer and help clean up. Even more info here.

High Lonesome Loop

While out on a run this past week, as I often do, I started thinking about this blog and, specifically, how I have neglected it lately. Even more so, I have neglected to focus on the primary topic: running. Thinking a little further, I realized that I had neglected to mention my goal race for the current training period. 

Without further ado: in two and a half weeks I will be a repeat offender at the Leadville Marathon. I ran this last year with very satisfactory results, finding it to be a well run race with excellent spectatorship (for a trail race). It may not compare to the trail races in Europe, but then there are few to no races here that do. This year, I am going into the race with several hundred more miles of training under my legs, a higher weekly mileage, and after this weekend, a good proxy run. 

With that in mind, a week ago, I opted to head up to Indian Peaks for the classic: the High Lonesome loop to get some time in at altitude. This time last year, the trails were still choked with snow low on the King Lake trail. This year I made it up to Jasper Lake before the snowfields hit. 

I had known from the start that I was not going to come near to the FKT of Koski (2:28) but I thought the old FKT of 3:11 would be well within my reach. My legs were feeling good, after a week off from running. Those ideas were quickly thrown out, however, with the first patch of downed trees. I realized early on that there would be a little route-scouting involved in this run. 

As I said, I got up to Jasper before I encountered the first snow patches. Quickly, though, I found my way increasingly blocked by extensive snowfields, as well as the trees that would be the main obstacle of the day. It took me less than an hour to get to Jasper, but the stretch from Jasper up to Devils Thumb Lake took a good half hour or more, at times wandering in the general direction I thought the trail might go. Few enough people had been there before me (and apparently none that weekend) that there were no footprints to follow. 

At Devils Thumb Lake, the trees cleared out, and most of the snow was gone. This had led to a meadow full of little yellow and white flowers. Somehow, the picture just doesn't do the scene justice. 

This was also the first dose of wildlife, other than deer, I've gotten on my runs so far this year. The marmots were out and about, staking out territory and making their presence known. I'm pretty sure this is the same one that ate through some of my food the last time I was backpacking up here.

The last press up to the pass up to the pass was, as ever, a bit of a slog. Thankfully, though, this east-facing slope was free and clear of snow. Free, that is, save for the inevitable snowfield at the top, which somehow seems steeper and more intimidating when you're out there on your own.

You can see in the picture where people had been up and over before me, though certainly I was the first one to cross it today. Again, the picture doesn't do the scene justice, but believe me when I say it was steep. I made it to the pass at 1:45 on the dot

Once on to the High Lonesome Trail (a part of the Continental Divide Trail) the going was open and easy. Easy at 12000 feet means something entirely different than easy at sea level, but still, for the location, it was easy. I made the 2.5 mile or so crossing in 20 minutes, hitting the King Lake Trail at 2:05. Then I got to see what was in front of me.

Hard to see, but there's a trail between those two snow fields. 

Those snowfields were deceptive. For the most part, the snow crust was thick enough to easily bear my weight (thank you big feet!). Every fourth or fifth step, though, the crust would give way, plunging you up to your knee in snow, and abrading your shin in the process. By the time I made it through the first field, my shins were scratched and a bit bloody, and I was dreading the next. 

Footsteps

I made it through well enough, and the next several miles were punctuated by the ubiquitous downed trees, and their corresponding delays. There were points where I would lose the trail in the trees, and end up down-slope of the deadfall scouting to find just where the trail had gone. 

Eventually, of course, I made it to the section where the trail maintenance crew had already been hard at work, and the winter's deadfall was cut away from the trail. Still, the damage had been done, and my final time back at the bridge was 3:25. Decently respectable, given the conditions. My plan as of now is to head back up on Sunday and see what sort of time I can post.

(As a follow up, I ran a 21 mile loop, from my apartment, of Sanitas, Flagstaff, and Green Mountain here in Boulder in 3:45 this past weekend. And not once did my legs even feel mediocre. If I can run like that on tired legs, I think I'm ready for Leadville.)

Grand Canyon Pics

As I mentioned in my last post, almost two weeks ago now my girlfriend and I headed out to the Grand Canyon for a much needed vacation. On telling anybody this, the first question I inevitably got was: "Are you going to do a Rim to Rim to Rim Run?"

My answer, for this trip, was no. Since I was going with my girlfriend, and she is not a runner, I thought it would be poor form to take a full day to run across the Canyon and back, and then be wrecked for the rest of the trip. Instead I treated this trips as two things: first, a much needed break in running mileage and second, a scouting trip.

The view from our 2nd and 3rd night campsite

That said, I did run a few miles, and hike a significant amount. We hit the North Rim, which is much more pleasant (in my humble opinion) than the South Rim. The Kaibab Plateau drops off precipitously into the canyon at its edge, but until you get to that edge, you are in a wide open ponderosa pine forest, with little indication that as little as a few yards away the land drops thousands of feet into one of the most spectacularly scenic areas in the country.

We were fortunate enough the second and third night to get one of the prime campsites on the very edge of the canyon. As many of the people walking by said, sleepwalking, or even wandering around at night without a headlamp, could be fatal.

As I mentioned, I did not run much at all while we were there. I took a couple early morning runs along the transept trail, leading from our campsite to the Grand Canyon Lodge, but aside from that G and I went hiking, and took a mule ride. Initially I was a bit frustrated with not getting a chance to run as much as I would have liked, but as it turns out, I think the break, and relatively mild hiking we did throughout the trip, helped my legs recover significantly from the miles I have been putting in this year.

We took several hikes, along the Cape Final trail (where the prickly pears were in bloom), as well as along the Wildforss Trail and a few other smaller trails. We were lucky enough to get the Cliff Springs trail to ourselves. This particular trail leads from one of the most popular areas on the North Rim, Cape Royal, to a secluded smaller offshoot of the canyon where a seep spring has carved out a ledge from the rock.


I think that's enough talk from me for a while. Here are some pictures from the rest of the trip.

Yours truly, the first night at the canyon watching the sun set from Bright Angel Point.

Prickly Pear, and a happy insect.

G at the edge of Cape Final. Helicopters were flying by below us.

Cliff Springs Canyon

My mule. Her name was Smurf. Mules, FYI, are smelly, but Smurf was an extremely obedient mule.