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.)