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.)