2013 In Review

I compiled my running statistics from 2013.  While I ran over 300 miles more than I did in 2012, I did fall just short of 2000 miles for the calendar year.  All told, I averaged 36 miles a week, ground down three pairs of shoes, and ran 267 out of 365 days (time totaled as running time adds up to just over 11 straight 24-hour days).  So that's 98 days of being worthless.  Awesome. Here is a breakdown:

January: 208 (21:15)
February: 142 (18:56)
March: 184 (24:55)
April: 167 (21:59)
May: 205 (27:17)
June: 225 (36:13)
July: 153 (28:57)
August: 121 (21:03)
September: 139 (22:44)
October: 149 (19:18)
November: 130 (17:12)
December: 63 (7:53)
Year: 1882 (266:42)

I could stand to be more diligent this year.  I am still in the process of learning to just love running for what it is.  I hesitate to commit to too much racing for fear of getting caught up in it and losing sight of what is important.  The inverse of that is if I have nothing ahead on the calendar for which to train, I tend to be lackadaisical.  I think a small handful of challenging races in the company of good friends spaced evenly throughout the year is the ideal approach to this conundrum.

Here's to the new year.  

Looking Forward to 2014

2013 ended on a busy note and 2014 has begun much the same.  Elizabeth accepted a position in Boise, ID starting next week.  We moved her out there right before Christmas.  We continued from Boise to the Pacific Northwest for holiday visits with her family.  We spent Christmas Eve with her mother in Chehalis, WA and moved north along I-5 to spend Christmas with her father in Tacoma.  I ran a couple times along the water in Chamber Bay.  Running is a thing I have lavished little to no time upon recently.

Currently, I am a man displaced.  I have not found a job in Boise, and thus have stayed behind in Wyoming until I can procure employment.  However, we did move out of our house in Laramie, leaving me to commute from Cheyenne on a daily basis.  This is a terrible time of year meteorologically to commute those treacherous fifty miles, but my situation made finding housing in Laramie impossible.  I moved into the basement of the house owned by my old friend Chris Schabron.

I have a quandary on my hands.  That pesky thesis of mine is still non-extistent, and I would like to finish it and be truly over and done with it so I can move on from it.  However, I would like to be in Boise as soon as possible.  I am quite taken with Elizabeth.  She has been nothing short of a blessing and I love her deeply and would like to begin making a life of our own in a different place.  Laramie has had and always will have too much baggage to be absolutely happy.  There is something in the water here...crazy sprouts amongst the populace like fungi sprouting from a rotting tree stump.

If a job comes along, I will take it.  I'll figure the thesis schedule out later.  I need to get out of this town and state for now.  And work on a life with the greatest woman I have had the good fortune to encounter.  Thank goodness for her.

Running is there. It's just not the focus.  I do still have goals and desires, but I want to move on with the other things in life.  Boise has a fantastic running scene.  That will sort itself out with time.

To 2014.  And maybe a different name.  Don't suppose I will be on the high plains anymore. 

Silent Trails 2013 + Always A Cowboy 8K + MORE!

One of the drawbacks of infrequent posting is that when one actually does post, there is quite a bit to cover.  That being the case here, let's do this.

I spent September putting in some easy, steady miles.  I ran trails two or three times a week, made myself be more diligent about strides and core work, and ran five or six days a week.  I was back to running 40-50 mpw comfortably.  I had previously made the decision not to race Jelm this year because I did not feel like suffering on that climb.  I also did not initially plan to race Always A Cowboy.  Elizabeth and I had plans to be in Denver that weekend.  However, that was the week of the epic deluge along the Front Range and we ended up having to stay put in Wyoming.  Given the destruction and casualties caused by that terrible flooding, we were better off up here staying safe.

Since I was around that Saturday morning, I warmed-up from my house down to Undine Park, registered, and hopped in the race.  I had no designed plan or goal, I was just there to run and catch up with folks.  Chris took the lead from the start along with Kyle, and I tucked in at the back of a couple other runners rounding out the lead pack.  We were running around 3:20/kilometer pace.  Not blazing, but not bad at 7200 feet.

As we came out of the Corthell neighborhood and circled LaPrele Park, I decided I could maybe run a little faster.  So around 4K, I took the lead and put a little gap on everyone.  Kyle covered that gap quickly, and by 5K, had taken the lead from me and was putting space between us.  I have done no speed work this year, so the 5:20/mile pace was feeling awfully quick.  Kyle put about 75-100m on me.  I thought, "I could really bear down and maybe reel him in, but it's going to hurt pretty bad."  So I stayed where I was.  I didn't lose any more ground to Kyle, but I refrained from trying to gain any back.  In the end, Kyle took the "W" and I came home in second in 27:40.  I was fairly happy with that.

Me and Mr. Schabron.

The weekend of Jelm, Elizabeth and I chose to get one more backpacking trip in before the weather turned (and turn it has).  We chose the Platte River Wilderness on the western slope of the Medicine Bow range for our overnighter.  It was warm and we had some difficulty fording a couple of creeks, but once we got over and along the Platte, it was peaceful and beautiful.

Pretty lady enjoying a pretty evening view.

Wonderful fall colors on display.

Camp along the North Platte River.

After that, I focused on getting as ready as I could for Silent Trails.  Horsecow was in town and talking smack, Sandra stopped through for the weekend on her way out to Maine, and even ol' Josh Fuller was present from Portland.  We had fun Friday night (not too much fun) and went up the hill in the morning for the race.

It just wouldn't be Silent Trails without some snow.

While we were spared the new normal race day blizzard, we did not escape snow.  It snowed up top two nights before, and most of it was still around.  The sun was out come start time, so a little snow under foot (though 1-2 foot drifts in a few spots along the course) was not bad at all.

Another year, another start.  L to R: Scott Foley, Horsecow a la Speedo, Nick Clark, Me, Chris Schabron.  Photo: Wendy Perkins.

Chris and I took the race out down Pole Creek before I settled back at the rear of a pack of about six runners, including Horsecow, Scott Foley, and Nick Clark, with Kyle and Nik Deininger right behind me.  We stayed that way down Pole Creek and up toward The Bitch (Death Crotch).  Chris, Scott, and another runner had taken off at that point.  I started the climb at the front of the second group until I lost my hat by hitting my head on a low-hanging tree branch.  I stopped to get it, allowing Horsecow to get in front of me.  I sat on him through what we call False Summits 1 and 2, when I slowed to a walk through a deeper drift.  That gave everyone else room to get by me, so I tucked back in at the back and suffered through the rest of the climb.

Leading up to the race, I had thought about strategy quite a bit.  In years past, I have bombed down Pole Creek at 5:30/mile pace with Jason Delaney only to fall deeply into oxygen debt at the start of the climb.  Once over my lactate threshold, I would spend the next few miles trying to recover enough to finish quickly.  

Other years, I have gone out more conservatively and tried to hammer the climb.  I would blow-up and again spend most of the next few miles trying to recover.  So, this year, with no Delaney in the race, I knew things would go out a little slower.  They did.  I then told myself the best thing for me to do would be to just get up the climb.  Don't waste any extra energy trying to hammer it.  If that worked out and I didn't lose too much ground to other racers, I thought I could focus on the latter half of the race.  In fact, the Wednesday before the race, I ran the first half of the course, including the climb, and then made myself tempo back to the Tie City.  I felt good doing it, so I decided that would be the best strategy for me.

I got to the top with Horsecow having lost a little ground to Clarkie and Deininger.  I started down onto Summit and immediately put a gap on Horsecow.  I wouldn't see him again.  As I started up the trail to the top of Brown's Landing, I was feeling pretty good, but was out in no-man's-land.  I caught a glimpse of a neon green shirt through the trees ahead and knew Clark was right in front of me.  And this year, I had no intention of letting him go.

Nick had one hell of a summer.  He raced Western States, Vermont, Leadville, and Wasatch, and pretty much destroyed them all.  Coming into Silent Trails, he was enjoying some well deserved time off.  His fitness was not great.  But I've never beaten Nick, and I wanted to badly.  The guy is one of the best ultra runners out there,  someone I look up to, and while he wasn't fit and running a race 1/10th the distance of his specialty, I still wanted to put my name in front of his on the results page.

I latched onto him at the top of Brown's.  He took off down to the landing and I went with him.  I wanted to stay on his shoulder and see what would happen.  As we started up toward Headquarters, we caught another runner named Tyler.  We came off the Overlook and onto Headquarters in a closely bunched group of three.  I was trying to decide when to make a move while waiting to see if Clark was going to make a move.  As we approached the junction with Summit, I was fiddling with my sunglasses when Nick made a one step move around us and went.  I looked up and saw his reason for doing so: we had caught a blown-up Scott Foley.

Tyler, me, and Clarkie on Headquarters.  Photo: Wendy Perkins.

Clark went and I thought, "Shit.  I let him get a jump on me which is something I specifically did not want to do."  I surged to catch up with him and we made it through the gate and around the turn up to Lower UW.  It was there that I chose to make my move.  I surged and kept pushing, trying to put as much space between the two of us as I could before Nick chose to hammer and take me out.  However, Nick didn't press, and before I knew it, I was running up on Deininger.  Coming into the campground and back onto the dirt road, I knew I had Clark beat.  I thought about really pressing and trying to catch Nik, but I knew he wasn't about to let me get around him and we were also running out of real estate in which to make that kind of move.  So I strode in 4th overall, ahead of Nick Clark and Horsecow.

Mr. Schabron, unknown to me, put over two minutes on the rest of field and brought home the victory for the Hungry Dogs.  He ran the best race I've ever seen him run.  This does mean, however, that I am now gunning for him.  This is not over.

Hungry Dogs.

Fuller, Horsecow, Schabby, and me.

Stalwart crew.

Silent Trails marks the end of my 2013 racing plans.  I have been through some emotional ups and downs this year in regards to running.  In the end, what makes the most sense is what Perry and Dr. Dan spoke of at this race.  Enjoy and appreciate the fact that we are alive and able to run.  There are eight guys who would love to be running but had that gift taken from them long before it should have been.  I want to settle in and find joy in running.  It's so important to me.  I want to work on getting myself into that headspace in the future.  I have focused too much on the negative recently.  Enjoy it.  Respect it.  Appreciate it.

One person who gets it is Elizabeth.  A couple months ago, she decided to sign up for the Denver Rock N' Roll Half-Marathon.  I was initially worried that she was doing it to appease me in some way, but she assured me it was something she wanted to do for herself.  So she trained diligently, getting up at 5am to get out and run.  She worked her butt off.  She set a goal, worked hard at it, and watched it come to fruition.  

My first crewing gig.  I owe her many more.

Oh, and Frank Shorter started the race.

We went down to Denver Saturday for the pre-race expo and packet pick-up.  Sunday morning, we rolled downtown for the race.  Elizabeth was excited and ready to go!  Her cousin Brian and I watched the start and then hoofed it up towards City Park to see her come around right after mile ten.  She did so with a smile on her face.

Happy runner.  Beautiful gal.

Elizabeth had done a half before, years ago in Eugene.  She said she didn't train much and didn't expect much from it.  She wanted to run faster than she did that day, and decided her goal time was 2:37 or 12:00/mile pace.  When we saw her near the park after mile ten, she was just behind the 2:30 pacer.  I thought, "Great!  She's well under her goal."  Brian and I walked back to the finish to see her come in.  She again smiled as she passed us and brought it home in 2:28.  Looking good and feeling good doing it!

I am very proud of her.  She crushed her goal and had fun.  That's the most important thing.

Happy finisher!

Brian and me with the champ.

There are many good things happening and potentially happening.  I am very excited about the future.  I think it's going to be great.

September

I've been listless and unfocused lately.  I've been thinking too much about getting lost.

Then September rolls in on a faint, cooling, crisp air and I am flooded with a million memories of blood, sweat, tears, ragged breath, rocks, trees, golf courses, icy hot, cramps, spaghetti dinners, and triumph and heartache with the closest of friends.  And it's almost too much to take.

I watched the Wyoming cross country team run by from my office window last week.  Young, fit, and fast looking.  I found myself stabbed by a pang of jealousy.  "You lucky bastards," I thought.  I remember that feeling.  Knowing that you are young and fit, that your summer training went well, and that you are back and ready to run faster than you ever have before.  I have a sense of longing for that feeling.  It is one that I will never feel again.

However, this air, this goddamn crisp fall air, so unique to Wyoming, is tugging at my mind, my heart, and my legs.  "Get outside..." it says.

I do not have to be young.  It does not have to be fast.  It can simply just be something.  Something I absolutely need to do.  

I was once a runner.  But, the truth is, I still am and I always will be.

2003 Wyoming Men's Cross Country team.  Albuquerque, NM.  L to R: Jeremy Thompson, Kyle Cheesbrough, Brian Knight, Jason Delaney, me, Brian Harnisch, Jason "Pudge" Sanders.

2004 Wyoming Men's Cross Country team.  Laramie, WY.  Back (L to R): Nick Cramer, me, Jeremy Thompson, Chris Schabron.  Front (L to R): Matt Hudson, Brian Harnisch, Brian Knight.

2005-2006 Wyoming Men's Distance Squad.  Provo, UT.  Back (L to R): Shadrack Too, Michael Huntington, Jeremiah Johnson, Brett Schuler, me, Philemon Tanui.  Front (L to R): Mark Korir, Brian Knight, Chris Schabron.

(Mis)Adventures

I went for my first run in almost a week this morning.  I'll get to why in a short while.

Elizabeth and I spent last weekend in the high, wide, and handsome land of Montana.  I find myself being more and more infatuated with the large state separating Wyoming from Canada.  It's still very similar to Wyoming, but the towns of Bozeman, Missoula, and my personal favorite, Helena, have a decent sense of liberalism (one that does not exist in Wyoming), delicious beer, awesome trails and mountains, and actual restaurants in which to eat.  Bozeman is a little on the yuppie/tourist side, but Helena is, in my opinion, what Laramie could possibly be if it ever got its shit together.  

Laramie is a college town.  Not "cowboy", not "Old West."  College.  And a pretty dumpy one at that.  The first things one sees entering Laramie from any direction are a) pawn shops, b) liquor stores, and c) some sort of junk yard.  Or Wal-Mart, which is really the same thing.  I love Laramie and have made it my home for eleven years, but it has potential, I feel, to be more.  I just am not sure what that would take, and I don't think I'm willing to beat my head against "tradition" to achieve it.  I can just go somewhere else where it already exists.

That rant was not my original intention, but that's where my mind wanders every time I come back to Wyoming from somewhere else.  And in true Wyoming parlance, I could say, "If you don't like it, leave.  We don't want you here anyway."  Might be time to heed that close-minded advice.

We were in Montana for a wedding in Helena, with stops to and fro, of course, in Bozeman.  Helena has trails right on the edge of town with Blackfoot River Brewing close by.  Pretty much a dream situation for yours truly.  On a running related note, I am looking at Elkhorn next August.  Lots of incentive to do it.

The wedding and weekend were great.  I ate way too much good food, drank delightful beer, ran a little bit, and kicked it with some amazing, generous, and hospitable folks.  

Helena, MT.

Pretty lady with great beer at Blackfoot River Brewing.

And we looked damn good at this wedding.

Everything was great.  Then this happened:

Eff.

This is the result of a piñata party gone wrong.  The wedding party took swings at a papier-mâché unicorn with no real success.  The bride stepped up to the plate, swung for all she was worth, lost the club (a broken/tapered 2x4 no less) and sent it sailing like a boomerang through the crowd.  It hit our friend Mariah, who was sitting on my left, directly above the eye, and clipped the side of my head on the ricochet.  I immediately started bleeding profusely, and after a few chaotic moments, we were put in a car and driven to the ER.

It took awhile to get admitted and all that jazz, but I did eventually get cleaned and stitched up.  No concussion or head trauma, just a nice, 3-centimeter cut.  Poor Mariah, however, was found to have a fractured skull that will require surgery to repair.  I apologize to her for not moving my giant head in front of hers.  Friends in Helena, you should definitely give my injury buddy a hug.

So, after that fun, we came home.  I didn't run because I wasn't sure how my head would feel.  It never really did hurt much.  When I got back, I remembered that for Valentine's Day, Elizabeth had bought me tickets to see my favorite band, Baroness, at the Bluebird.  I was also not sure how my head would like a loud metal show with moshing.  We decided to go anyway.

Baroness.

It was a great show.  I wore my earplugs and stayed out of the pit.  I will be sure to see these guys again when they undoubtedly come around in the future.

So, that's been a pretty eventful couple of weeks.  Classes start here next week, so all the students are back.  Life just got more treacherous in the Gem City.

Running Doldrums

I have once again been bitten by a lack of motivation and desire.  Since Bighorn, something has been a little off.  I just have not had the ability to get myself psyched up for running a bunch.  I've found it much easier lately to talk myself out of it, and when I do go running, I feel like I'm going through the motions with no real investment of emotion or love.

Elizabeth bought me a book, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, by Haruki Murakami.  In one chapter, he describes his first ultra, a 62-miler in Japan.  He focuses significantly on his feeling after he finished.  At the end, he claims he was merely happy he did not have to run anymore.  There was no great sense of accomplishment or pride regarding pushing through and finishing the race.  And after, he too was listless and unmotivated.

That is exactly how I felt at Bighorn.  I was glad to be done.  Nothing more.  I still, after having time to reflect about it, am not happy with it and I still don't feel that sense of accomplishment.  None of the, "Hey, I did this!  I finished!"  I did 52 miles, and all I cared about was being done.  Then I would go out for runs in the weeks after and just feel...nothing.  It wasn't boredom per se, it was just...blah.  I could do it, I could not do it.  I was totally apathetic.

That was an issue when I went to Rainier a few weeks ago (more on that coming sometime).  One of the issues I am having is getting myself ready mentally to go do something like that.  I'm exhausted from psyching myself up to go out and run that long and that hard.  I get too easily frustrated, and until I can calm down, or teach myself to just go with it, I'm not sure the ultra races are something I really want to do.  Racing in general even; it all seems tedious to me right now.

I am trying to refocus and just go run.  And if I choose to race, it's going to be much shorter.  Physically and mentally, I do believe that my optimum racing is to be done between 10K and 30K.  Once I get over 20 miles, I am an asshole.

I did, however, run the Wyoming Race for the Cure last weekend.  A road 5K is something I've done so much that it's almost second nature and requires little to no psyching up, so that was good.  And RFTC is important to my family, considering my mother and my aunt are both breast cancer survivors.  I first ran the race in 1999, heading into my junior year of high school.  This race, always held mid-August, has been a pretty good barometer for measuring fitness coming off summer training and heading into the fall cross-country season.  This was my fourteenth RFTC.  I have missed one year, 2011, because I was a groomsman in a friend's wedding.

I wanted to help Schabby break 17 minutes.  He has run every day for nearly three years.  However, he hasn't gone sub-17 in some time, something he lamented to me on a run recently.  So, I told him I would pace him through the race and we would go under 17.  And we did.  I took him through the first mile in 5:17, and implored him to hang on.  I did lose him a little on a hill in the middle of mile two.  I hoped he had enough to hang on.  He did, eventually crossing the finish in 16:56.  Mission accomplished.

Hungry Dogs.  Old guys.  Schabby and me around mile one, with Jerry not far behind.  Photo: Gabe Floud.

Me, I got myself into a battle with a couple of 17-year old high school runners.  Both kids made their moves too soon and I was able to out kick them at the end for 6th place in 16:28.  I am getting old (this was my first race in the 30-39 age category), and I still have a lot of stupid pride left.  The kids will learn as they gain experience.  I swear, I now rely more on muscle memory and wiles than I do on fitness or skill.  If those kids keep with it, they'll figure it out.  That said, I got beat by two 24-year olds, two 19-year olds, and an 18 year old.  But I cleaned up that 30-39 division!

Now that I contradicted my first paragraphs with my last paragraph, I will end this.  I will get something written up (with PICTURES) on my Wonderland Trail experience soon.  It will be short, much like our run.  And I will continue to get out a run what I can.  It's coming back a little bit.  

Here's a song that's awesome.

The Wonderland Trail - Preface

I am hitting the road tomorrow morning to make my way, once again, to Mount Rainier.  However, unlike last year when we scaled it, I will be attempting to run its circumference on the Wonderland Trail, a 93-mile long trail that circumnavigates the mountain.  Josh Fuller and I will be running ~50K each day for three days.  Horsecow has had to pull out due to injury, but has agreed to come hang out regardless.  We will be crewed by the lovely and amazing Elizabeth and Cassie, who are being total team players while their respective partner and husband pursue another foray of questionable sanity.  Thank you so much in advance!

We'll run Tuesday through Thursday of next week.  The first day will start at Longmire and end 32-33 miles and 6000-7000k of climbing later at Mowich Lake.  Wednesday is our short day, a measly marathon from Mowich to White River.  Thursday we leave White River and hopefully finish back at Longmire, 34 miles later.  This is a stout undertaking, but one I believe we can handle.  We are not pursuing any FKTs, so we have all day, each day, to get things done.

I had to drop out of Alec's 6-hour race early on Saturday because my legs, particularly the right leg, and my back all rebelled around mile 15.  It was an odd feeling to go from seemingly fine to walking in the matter of a few steps.  My calves are just now starting to loosen up, and only after a) not running a step this week, b) near constant stretching, and c) hammering them with self-massage.  I woke up Tuesday morning with a lower back so tight I could barely get out of bed.  It felt like it did back in December when I was sidelined for a month.  However, things seem to be coming around, and as long as I am diligent about stopping frequently to stretch while I'm on the road the next two days, I hope a day of relaxing in the park on Monday will allow me to be ready to run Tuesday.

And if it sucks, or something happens, we (or I) stop.  Not a big deal.

I'm excited for this.  I've been thinking about it for a year.  And I think this kicking it at Mount Rainier the last week of July thing may have to become a yearly tradition.

Below is my current favorite song (plus another one that is also fantastic) from my current favorite band.  I cannot stop listening.  The Sweetest Curse has a series of riffs that, in my opinion, are some of the best I have ever heard.  And I am and always have been all about the riff.  I grew up on Hetfield, what can I say?