Week Ending October 23

I am very stoked about this past week's worth of running.  While I didn't do anything drastic, I felt really good on every single run, and I ran everyday of the week.  I haven't done that since college over five years ago.  I am trying not to get too excited.  It was, after all, only the first week of my winter training schedule, but the week has left me very optimistic that I am pursuing the right course and potentially setting myself up to be successful.

I spent a few hours putting together a program, and implored the knowledge of Jason Delaney as well as elicited advice on plyometrics and core exercises from Quincy Howe, assistant track coach at the University of Wyoming.  Their advice and encouragement has been above and beyond, and I am excited to put their suggestions into action.

Mon. Oct. 17 - 3.5 miles in 26 min (7:25 pace).  I did a quick and easy morning run on the Greenbelt along the Laramie River.  Followed it up with quick some core exercises.  Mondays will be my recovery days going forward.

Tues. Oct. 18 - 4 miles in 30 min (7:30 pace).  Another short run on the Greenbelt.  I went out after work in some slightly brisk, but wonderfully sunny weather.  While I had sworn to get my runs done in the morning, a strange thing happened; I actually felt really good on this evening run.  Weird.

Wed. Oct. 19 - 8 miles in 59 min (7:26 pace).  Again I waited until after work to run and again...I had a really good run.  What's going on here?  Anyway, I went up the hill for a longer trail run.  I did what I like to refer to as the "Southwestern Portion" of the Silent Trails course (e.g. Upper UW, Summit, Browns, Headquarters loop).  I felt smooth and strong the whole run.  Another beautiful day in Laramie, WY!

Thurs. Oct. 20 - 5.5 miles in 41 min (7:23 pace).  Got out in the morning and did a loop around the northwest corner of Laramie East.  Felt pretty good again.  Followed with core exercises.

Fri. Oct. 21 - 6 miles in 40 min (6:40 pace).  I did a three mile warm-up run to the Indoor Practice Facility where I did 2x30m of barefoot high knees, butt kicks, quick single-leg cycles, lateral bounds, and karioka.  I followed that with 8x100m barefoot strides.  Then I ran home.  I felt strong and fast on the strides.  This will be my Friday routine, more or less, and is based on what I was doing with Coach Sanchez last spring.  Form is important going into the winter.

Sat. Oct. 22 - 6.5 miles in 45 min (6:55 pace).  I did an old favorite, the Airport Golf Course/Lions Park loop in Cheyenne.  Very nice morning over there.  Good little run before filling in at Foot of the Rockies (yes, I have been working a few hours at the shoe store again).

Sun. Oct. 23 - 11 miles in 78 min (7:05 pace).  Single Trudge loop.  Met a group of folks at the Blair picnic area for some Sunday morning trail fun.  Split off at the start with Chris Schabron and Horsecow Lonac, as well as Sandra's dog, Nick, and set a pretty good pace throughout.  I got to see some of the benefits of the core strengthening I have been doing.  For the first time, I put together all the climbs on the Trudge loop.  I felt amazing, and was glad to share the beautiful weather with some good friends.  Sandra and I followed the run by scarffing down delicious Corona Village burritos after. 

Totals
Week's Miles: 45
Running Time: 5:19
Year to Date: 1259

Gear: Asics SpeedStar 5 (201 miles), Saucony Peregrine (32 miles)

The High Plains Harriers Fall 2011 newsletter is up.  It covers the Laramie running scene very well, including races/results from all the local events from this summer and fall.  It also profiles a couple of HPH members and has a couple of nice spotlights, including an excerpt of my Wind River Crossing write-up.  Spread the word.

http://highplainsharriers.org/newsletter/HPHNews-Fall2011.pdf

Next Move: Winter Training Schedule

With the passing of Silent Trails a little over a week ago, I took a week pretty much off (I ran twice on the trails for a total of 13 miles plus a 6 mile hike on the trails Saturday) and mulled over where to take things from here.  Silent Trails was the last thing on my 2011 schedule, and with the onset of winter (second snow of the season came down yesterday morning) I have been considering a race schedule for the remainder of the year and a training program to set me in motion for next year.

First, I have added a few races to my 2011 schedule.  They reflect what is available in the area this time of year and also serve as one facet of my training strategy.  I initially wanted to take a trip somewhere for a bigger trail race (a couple of 50Ks in Arizona had caught my eye), but money being what it is, tight, I think that won't be possible.  The Backcountry Half seems like it could be a decent race.  A little pricey at $50 pre-registration, but it is in Highlands Ranch so I suppose such costs are to be expected.  I'm not sure I can or will be in shape for it, but it will give me an opportunity to do one more longer trail race before the end of the year.  It also affords me the opportunity to visit Loni and Dane Johnson, Kevin's mom and stepfather, who live in Highlands Ranch, as well as Katy, Kevin's sister, who, along with her family, is now down in the Denver area.  I haven't been down to visit them in a couple of years, and that is something I regret and wish to remedy.

The shorter races will serve two functions: a) they will be my primary speed workouts during the winter and b) they are fun.  I haven't run the Comea Turkey Trot since its inaugural edition 11 years ago when I was an 18-year-old college freshman home on Thanksgiving break.  There's a new crop of young Cheyenne runners that have been bugging me to run a race or two over there.  I figured I might as well oblige.

The Fort Collins Thanksgiving Day 4-Miler is another race I used to run frequently in my younger days, but I haven't made the trip down since 2006.  We used to gather a group of folks from Cheyenne every year, head down, and try to win as many age-group pies as we could.  That race has become increasingly competive over the years after the introduction of prize money ($600 first place purse for this year's race).  I ran my pr 4M (20:28) there in 2006 and managed only a 10th overall showing, and won a pumpkin pie for placing second in my age group (and that only because there was no double-dipping).  I know that I am nowhere near that fast now, but I remember always having a good time there and figure why not?

The Resolution Run is another race that a bunch of us carpool down for.  I first ran the 2005 race, but have only been back once, in 2009.  I remember those races being fun due to racing at night, having a good group of folks around, and the chance to go out on the town in FoCo for New Year's celebrations afterwards.

Younger versions of Chris Schabron and me at the Resolution Run in 2005.  Photo by James Hobson.

The Cheyenne crew, including the Herrold brothers, the Vogel brothers, Scooter Foley, the Wildes (Sean and Maya), Gabe "Blue Steel" Floud, and yours truly post 2009 Resolution Run.

I may throw another 5K in somewhere in December.  Plenty of Jingle Bell Jaunts, etc. around.

As for the winter training, my main focus and concern is injury prevention and staying healthy.  I have always had a tendency to get banged up over the winter (running in Laramie this time of year can be hard on the body) and therefore come into the spring maybe a little behind schedule.  I want to begin a methodical mileage build-up starting next month, culminating with the Trudge February 25.  After that, my focus will be the Big Horn 50M (yes, 50M) in June, with Pilot Hill on the schedule, as well as a possible 50K sometime in April or May.

Along with a steady increase in mileage, I really want to work on my core strength and balance.  I am working on a schedule of exercises to help with that.  I also plan to incorporate a little weightlifting (nothing significant, I don't wish to pack on muscle, just strengthen my muscles up a bit) and some plyometrics.  I think adding some of these things to my routine with help with injury prevention as well as better prepare me for getting back on the trails in the spring.

In training for something like the Trudge, I plan to keep things simple by simply getting outside.  I think my weekends will be focused on getting up to the mountains as much as possible and making myself do something up there for two or three hours at a time.  I want to get back into some snowshoe runs; we used to do that fairly often in college but I haven't so much the last couple of years.  I have always viewed those as a great way to work some different muscles, get up in the mountains, and get the hell off the city streets for a bit.  Time out trudging around is probably the best way to train for the Trudge.

I also want to try, weather and gas money permitting, to get down south more this winter.  While the Laramie trails were inaccessible until mid-May this past spring, most of the trails south around Fort Collins, Loveland, Golden, Boulder, etc. were pretty much snow-free all winter long.  Being able to hit up a couple of long trail runs a month would be great for training and great for my spirits. 

That's that.  I am going to actually write up a calendar schedule in the next week or two so that I have something physical and tangible to keep me going on the right track.  2011 has been a blessing; I have, with the guidance and friendship of others, fallen back into love with running again.  While this year hasn't been easy, and getting back into shape has been difficult at times, I am back to the point where I actually look forward to my runs.  I get excited about it.  They are not obligations anymore, they are gifts.  And I think this year has been the stepping stone.  Next year, I look forward to taking that next step.  I once, in the not so distant past, thought my competitive racing days were over.  Now I look forward to a whole new set of challenges.  I'm genuinely excited about the future.  It's been too long since I've felt that way.

Silent Trails 2011

From 2001 (the first Silent Trails) to 2007, the weather for this race was typically great.  Usually a little chilly in the morning, but by race time it was another wonderful fall day in the Wyoming mountains.  I used to run this race in a singlet.  However, beginning in 2008, when we had a strange ice storm roll in the night before the race, this first weekend in October has proven to be the perennial first snow/cold/crappy weather of the season.  2009 saw the race cancelled thanks to a blizzard the night before, and last year's race, while missing snow, saw colder temps and a howling, freezing west wind that cut through layers of clothing.  Thus, when I saw the weather forecast predicting 3-6 inches of snow for Saturday morning, I said to myself, "That figures."

It had yet to begin snowing when I left my house in town to head up the hill.  When I arrived at Tie City, the snow was just beginning to fall.  I met up with my parents, who travelled over from Cheyenne that morning to spectate, grabbed my race packet, and took off for a warm-up run.  15 minutes later, I was back at the starting line, marvelling at how much snow was beginning to accumulate on the trails.

My dad and me watching the snow fall right before race start.  Photo by Cassandra Driver.

We gathered for the start, where I said hello to Justin Mock and Nick Clark, the stud runners up from Colorado.  Also in attendance were my fellow Hungry Dogs Chris Schabron, Nick Cramer, the Big Dog Chris Jons, and Maggie Diller.  Jason Delaney hopped on the line next to me wearing only his BRC singlet.  He looked at me, smiled, lifted his foot and enthusiastically showed me his shoes.  "I'm spiking up, dude!" he proclaimed.  Sure enough, he was cruising around in his Adidas cross-country spikes.  I, having originally planned to race in my SpeedStars, instead opted for my New Balance 101 trail shoes.  I'm not too sure they offered any more traction, by they didn't seem to get snow stuck to the bottom of them quite as bad as the Asics.

Snow really started to fall as we gathered for the start.  Photo by Cassandra Driver.

From the far left, Chris and me in our yellow HDTC jerseys, Jason in the green singlet, Justin next to him in the white socks, and Nick in the blue hat.  One of the studlier starting lines we've had for this race.  Photo by Amber Travsky, Laramie Boomerang.

Perry called the race to the line and got us going.  From the start, Jason and Justin took off, with Nick not too far behind.  Most years, I get sucked into that, bomb down Pole Creek too fast and find myself in oxygen debt when I begin the climb up The Bitch.  This year, after a summer of running the course, I decided my best strategy was to be conservative down Pole Creek, do as best I could on the climb, then go as fast as I could on the second half and see if I could run anyone down.  This strategy worked, for the most part.

I was tentative on the downhills due to my already well-known ability to fall in the best of conditions.  A couple of inches of snow obscuring rocks and roots made things way more treacherous.  Ted Haskell, one of the fixtures of Laramie running, has had a habit of really making me work in this race.  In 2007, I literally had to out kick him for second place, and I don't believe I have ever finished more than a minute ahead of him.  Ted, now officially a Masters at 41, is one of those "old guys" who kick the shit out of young pups on climbs.  Ted and Dr. Dan Radosevich (the original Hungry Dog); I get schooled by their old man strength on a continual basis.

Ted caught me going down Pole Creek and I let him go.  I kept a consistent 10-20 meters behind him as we went down.  To my surprise, Nick Cramer passed me here as well.  Nick, an old teammate of mine at UW who we nicknamed "Cosmo" because of his last name (Seinfeld reference), was a good half-miler during his college years.  So, as he passed me, I let out some words of caution.  "You're gonna want to slow down,"  I told him.  He looked back, smiled, and said, "Hey, I'm just trying to cover as much ground as I can before you school me on The Bitch."  Sure enough, after the creek crossing at the bottom of Pole Creek, we began the rolling climb leading up to The Bitch and I caught Cosmo and didn't see him again.

I have always maintained that the worst climb on this course isn't the 700', steep, switch backing climb up The Bitch.  In my mind, it's the couple of smaller hills right before.  Those little rollers destroy me and set me up for failure on the big climb.  However, it was on those rollers that I felt my best.  I caught back up to and passed Ted, and kept going.  I started to get excited about how good I felt and how maybe this year I was actually going to climb worth a damn.  As I began up The Bitch, I was feeling good, but reminded myself to settle in and run within my bounds.  That changed after the first couple of switchbacks when I heard a sniffle, looked up on the next switchback and saw Nick Clark.

I immediately sped up.  I had never been that close to Nick in a race before, and no offense to him, but one of my goals has been and will continue to be, to beat him in a race.  Having him right there, in my sights, got my blood flowing and heart pumping.  I decided, again, to calm down, try to reel him in bit by bit, and hopefully have him by the top.  From there all I wanted to do was try to stay with him.  I bragged in my last post about my confidence in my ability to descend with anyone.  That confidence does not cover Nick Clark, whose descending abilities are out of this world.  I knew I had to get even with him if I was going to have even the slightest of a shot.

However, that was not meant to be.  2/3's the way up The Bitch, I kept losing my footing in the snow and got a little frustrated and a little winded.  By the time I crested the top, Nick was again out of sight, I was jogging down the backside trying to catch my breath (the wind picked up in the open and combined with the climb, the cold air, and the sickness I had a few days before, my lungs were not bringing in enough air), and Ted had summoned his old man strength to once again catch me.

We cruised down Summit and out to Brown's Landing where I finally found myself breathing again.  I tucked in behind Ted, shielded my eyes as best I could from the driving snow, and prayed that I didn't misplace any steps in what was now ankle deep snow.  My plan was to shamelessly sit on Ted, make him do all work up the backside of Headquarters and down the Overlook, at which point I planned to surge ahead and hopefully out kick him at the end.  Ted, old man strength brimming over in the end, had other ideas.

When we came down the Overlook and back into the trees on Headquarters, I tried to make a move.  Problem was, Ted was running very strong.  And I was beginning to feel the effects of the snow.  I was getting tired, and my foot placement was becoming a problem.  Every time I surged to try to catch Ted, I seemed to invariably slip off a rock or clip a root hidden in the snow.  One particular rock nearly took me down, and in my attempt to stay upright, I flailed my arms and legs about so wildly that I tweaked my hamstring.  After that I decided, given the conditions, I would be happy where I was and with all of my parts intact.  Ted deserved to beat me.  He was the stronger runner that day.

 Coming home in the snow.  Photo by Cassandra Driver.

  Frost everything!  Beard, arms, even legs!  Photo by Cassandra Driver

I came home in 5th in 1:17 and change, over seven minutes slower than my fastest time on this course.  Jason brought home the bacon for the Hungry Dogs in 1:09, with Justin a close second, Clark third and a deserving Ted fourth.  After the race, Mr. Jons and I discussed how this was truly a quintessential Wyoming cross-country race blessed by the guys.  Coach Sanchez came up to me and said, "Y'know how I always used to say there was a fine line between tough and stupid?  Well, I think we crossed that line today!"  I laughed and agreed.  We also summed up that everyone out there was a distance runner.  There were no candy-asses in sight.

Week Ending May 8

Mon. May 2 - Day off.

Tues. May 3 - Day off.  Lazy.


Wed. May 4 - 9 miles in 70 min (7:46 pace).  Lunch time run with Jeff and Patrick.  Felt pretty good and strong; cruised the single track climb out to the fence line.  I was feeling a little bummed this day.  We lost a special person.  Roni Sanchez, Coach Sanchez's wife and den mother to a couple generations of Hungry Dogs, passed away yesterday afternoon after succumbing to a 10+ year battle with cancer.  She was an unbelievably strong and spirited person.  She took such good care of the team (and of Coach).  Some of my favorite memories from my college XC days were the brunches we had at the Sanchez home following a weekend long run.  I remember being a 17 year-old high school senior visiting Wyoming on a recruiting trip in the fall of 2000; I was so warmly and graciously welcomed to the Sanchez home and family by Roni that I knew Wyoming was the place for me.  I took an oftentimes misleading path to get here, but I've never regretted it.  Wyoming was where I always needed to be, and Roni Sanchez was a big reason why.  I will miss her dearly, but I will remember her spirit and her attitude and her strength and hope I can portray even a fraction of it in my own life.  She's finally not suffering anymore, and I do find some peace and comfort in that.

Thurs.  May 5 - 8.5 miles in 66 min (7:45 pace).  Another prairie run with Jeff and Patrick.  Patrick went out for more miles, Jeff cut back in for fewer miles.  I felt pretty good.  Beautiful day in Laramie, WY!

Fri. May 6 - 4 miles in 27 min (6:45 pace).  I ran from home to the IM fields by the outdoor track, then kicked off the shoes for 6 x 35 sec. pick-ups with 35 sec. jog between.  This simulates the old pre-race workouts we used to do before XC meets back in college.  I add the barefoot stuff because I did them on grass and it feels good!

Start of the Greenland Trail 25K.

Sat.  May 7 - 17 miles.  Greenland Trail 25K.  All I can say is that I felt this race was a complete disaster.  I'm really disappointed in my inability to put it together.  Maybe I overestimated what kind of shape I'm in.  Maybe I need more experience with these longer trail races.  It was also hot, in the 70's by the second loop, and one of the drawbacks to training in Laramie in the winter and spring is that you are never prepared for temperatures much over 60.  It's like when we had MWC outdoor in Vegas my sophomore year (2004).  We did a workout in Laramie in the snow and wind, then ran the 10,000m the next morning in 95 degree heat.  I don't handle heat well to begin with, and especially not when I'm not acclimated to it at all.  Couple that with the course being totally wide-open with no shade, and I wilted pretty bad.

Starting the second loop.  Feeling the heat.

Another unforeseen issue was the wind.  I had earlier in the week made fun of Greenies (Wyomingites' derogatory term for Coloradoans) for complaining about a 15mph wind.  I said something to the effect that we don't even qualify 15mph as a wind in Wyoming.  Well, Karma is a bitch and the race began with a 15-20mph headwind for the first 3 or 4 miles.  And running into it hurt.  It wore me out right from the start.  However, I actually welcomed it on the second lap because it was the only thing cooling me down.

Coming into the finish.

Those are my excuses for what I considered a sub-par performance.  I placed 15th overall in 1:57:29.  I went into the race thinking I could run 1:50 or better.  Again, I overestimated my fitness (or my skill level...I may not be as good a runner as I seem to think I am), and got my butt kicked for it.  I suppose that I shouldn't expect results to come instantly; I have not trained consistently for four years, I gained nearly 30 pounds (from a lean, mean 152 to a portly 185) since college, and I'm not getting any younger.  It really is amazing how differently the body responds to training or how quickly it recovers when one is 27 (I'll be 28 next month) compared to being 19 or 20.  I really must adapt my mentality to that.  I'll never be in sub-15 5K shape again.  That kind of sucks.

That said, we had a good crew down for the race.  Johnna kicked some ass, placing 27th overall in 2:04:15; she was the 5th overall woman and the first masters woman.  Good ol' Huntington placed 3rd overall in 1:45:01, once again proving that he is a vastly superior runner to myself.  That one XC season that I consistently beat him is what it is, a fluke.  Jeff and Sam ran well, but felt the heat like I did, and poor Brian DNF'd due to injury.  He'll get back on that horse!


Sun. May 8 - Day off.


Totals:
Week's Miles: 38
Running Time: 4:50
Calories Burned: ~ 4,243


May's Miles: 53
Year to Date: 446

Gear: Asics Speedstar 4 (324 miles), New Balance Trail 100 (227 miles)

Weeks Ending Sept. 25 and Oct. 2

Catching up on a couple of weeks.  One was decent, the other not so much.  Nothing I can do about that now.  I spent last week in Virginia with my parents visiting my little sister and brother-in-law.  While it was nice to get out of Laramie for a bit, and great to hang with the fam, I did jack for training and came home with a pretty nasty cold that has managed to hang on for nearly a week (I hypothesize some super-Virginia virus for which I have little to no immunity).  So, I am going into Silent Trails either doomed for disaster or extremely well-tapered.  Can one really taper off a few 50 mile weeks?  I guess I will find out.

Tues. Sept. 20 - 8.6 miles in 62 min (7:12 pace).  I ran an old West Laramie loop that Jason and I used to include in a larger, all-of-Laramie loop we did for weekend long runs back in college.  I was out between 7 and 8 in the morning, and the traffic over on that side of town was a little ridiculous.  And apparently West Laramie residents believe not in sharing the road.  Or slowing down whatsoever for pedestrians.  Saw my life flash before my eyes a couple of times.

Wed. Sept. 21 - 9 miles in 57 min (6:19 pace).  TEMPO RUN!  Warm-up from my place to the UW track, form drills and 4x100m strides, then into a three-mile tempo at six-minute pace.  I actually hit the mile splits in 5:51, 5:59, and 5:56 for a total of 17:46/3-miles tempo.  Felt decent, pretty smooth and relaxed.  Followed it up with 6x100m barefoot strides on the infield and a cool-down jog home.  Last "workout" before Jelm.

Thurs. Sept. 22 - 5 miles in 38 min (7:35 pace).  As if I haven't figured it out yet, I again waited until after work to run, and once again, I felt completely awful.  I wanted to get in 8-9 miles, but after making a quick loop out in Cottonwood Estates, I bagged it and went home.  Ragan, you NEED to get your runs done in the morning, bonehead!

Fri. Sept. 23 - 6 miles in 42 min (7:00 pace).  My house to the UW track, 8x100m barefoot strides, UW track back to my house.  Quick and easy pre-race workout.

Sat. Sept. 24 - 13 miles in 97 min (7:37 pace).  JELM MOUNTAIN RUN.  Went to the race with my dad and Mr. Vogel.  Did a quick ten-minute warm-up to get some blood flowing into my lungs.  Chris Schabron and I worked together on the first couple of miles while Sam Malmberg opened a gap on us.  When we started the first of the real climbing about 1.5 miles in, I thought, "Oh no, I feel terrible, nothing is flowing and it's going to be a bad day."  Chris put a few meters on me before my legs woke-up and started getting down to business.

Chris and me enjoying our Saturday morning.  Perfect weather.  Photo by Wendy Perkins.

I started churning up the mountain, eventually dropping Chris and continuing up.  I felt really good on the climb, the best I have ever felt on that mountain.  I thought, for a brief period of time, that I was making up time on Sam.  I think this was an illusion; Sam beat me to the top by exactly three minutes, 43:10 to my 46:10.

When I began the descent, I had a choice to make: do I bomb down this mountain as fast and haphazardly as I can and try to catch Sam, or do I take it easy and make sure I have the ability to walk the next few days?  I had almost two minutes on Ted, who was in third, at the top.  I figured if Ted could make up those two minutes on the descent, I could deal and just out kick him at the finish (sorry Ted, I mean no offense).  I decided to relax, figuring I wasn't going to make up three minutes on Sam, a much more skilled trail runner than I, on a descent.  I chose to sit and defend my second place.

Feeling good.  Floating over the ground.  Photo by Guy Driver.

Cruising into the finish.  Photo by Wendy Perkins.

My plan worked, I was in great shape after the race and had no issues with my plane travel to Virginia the next day.  I descended in 30:55 compared to Sam's 28:19, putting me 5:36 behind his winning time of 1:11:29 with a time of 1:17:05.  Talking to Sam after the race, he was concerned that I would catch him on the way down, claiming that he was not a great descender.  That got me wondering if maybe I shouldn't have pushed harder coming down.  However, looking at my previous times on Jelm, I seriously doubt I would have done it. 

I like this picture of Patrick, Mr. Race Director, and me.  Photo by Wendy Perkins.

When I won Jelm in 2008, I ascended in 46:44, and descended in 28:29, for an overall time of 1:15:13.  I did climb faster and more comfortably this year, but had I descended in a similar time this year, I still wouldn't have made up those three minutes on Sam.  I would have merely remained even with him.  What I need to do is figure out how in the hell to get up the mountain faster.  I am confident in my ability to descend with just about anyone, and if things were to come down to a kick, I'm pretty confident I could summon up enough of my old track speed to get by the trail guys.  What kills me is the time I lose to them on the climb.  I can't make that up coming down.  I think next year will see a few more forays up Jelm.

Totals:
Week's Mileage: 42
Running Time: 4:56
Year to Date: 1164

As for my week in Virginia...I ran twice on Virginia Beach, felt terrible on both, couldn't breathe in all that thick, humid air, and continued my legacy of being the only human alive that functions at a disadvantage when going down from elevation to run at sea level.  Seriously, a look at my personal bests is pretty indicative of this fact.

800m - 1:59.9 in Fort Collins, CO (5,003ft.)
1500m - 4:08 in Fort Collins, CO
Mile - 4:23 indoors at Black Hills State in Spearfish, SD (3,648ft.)
3000m - 8:41 indoors at Nebraska in Lincoln (1,176ft.).  However, I ran a 9:02 indoors at Air Force (~7,000ft.) that converts to ~8:42.  Basically the same time.
5000m - 14:56 outdoors in Albuquerque, NM (5,312ft.).  I ran 15:07 indoors at Iowa State (Ames is 942ft.) one year.  And felt twice as bad doing it.
8K XC - 25:35 in Fort Collins, CO.  My best low-elevation time was 26:01 at Notre Dame (South Bend is 692ft.).
10,000m - 31:41 at Stanford.  Again, I ran a 31:42 at BYU later that year (Provo, UT is 4,551 ft.).

Now, some of these times have certain extenuating circumstances impacting them.  For one, since I live in the Rocky Mountain region, and Wyoming is part of the Mountain West Conference consisting of schools in similar geographic locations, most of my running and racing is done at elevation.  Also, most of my pr's are from races run at the end of the season, meaning I a) had a whole season worth of conditioning under my belt and b) I was peaked/tapered for most of those races.  My 5,000m pr was run two weeks before the MWC outdoor championships, my 8K pr was at the MWC XC championships, and the 3,000m and 10,000m times I ran at elevation were both at conference meets.  Most of the lower elevation races were early in the season when I was perhaps less ready to run well.  However, I still feel that I have never come close to seeing all the physiological benefits of going down to sea level to race that I heard so much about my entire life.

Mon. Sept. 26 - 4.5 miles in 32 min (7:06 pace).  I ran down the straight, boring street that ran along Virginia Beach.  I turned around and hopped on the beach coming back.  The sand there was so soft that I felt like I was running in peanut butter.  After about ten minutes, I retreated back to the pavement.

Wed. Sept. 28 - 4 miles in 30 min (7:30 pace).  Again, just wasn't feeling it.  It was particularly humid this day (94%).  We don't have such things in Wyoming.

After that, I caught a cold from my sister and brought it home with me.

Week's Mileage: 9
Running Time: 1:02
Year to Date: 1175

Gear: Asics Speedstar 5 (162 miles)

Wind River Crossing 2011

Gannett Peak (13,804 ft.).  Highest point in Wyoming

This was big.  This was EPIC.  This was unlike anything of which I had ever been a part.  As I laid awake in my tent in the twilight, listening to the hum of a generator belonging to a nearby camper and the whinnying of the group of horses in the public corral at the trailhead, I tried in vain to suppress the myriad of thoughts racing through my mind.  All I wanted was a few hours of sleep; I was not sure when I would next catch some shut eye.  Three in the morning comes awfully early, especially on the edge of fifty miles of wilderness.  And it was those fifty miles of wilderness that excited and frightened me until I finally drifted off to sleep.

Our camp at the Glacier trail head.  8/16/11.

A year earlier, I had been invited on a 45-mile crossing of the Wind River range in western Wyoming.  Alec, the mastermind behind many a crazy adventure (see my post about the Twin Mountain Trudge), had spent some time planning a crossing involving Dinwoody Glacier, Bonney Pass, Titcomb Basin, and various other genres of gnarly terrain.  After some half-hearted consideration, I declined to participate due to a conflicting schedule and a total lack of fitness.  With that, I stayed home and Alec, Nate, and Josh, with support from Tina and Cassie, left for the Winds to give it a go.  They would be denied, unfortunately, due to inclement weather conditions.  A year went by, and the ember continued to smolder.  Alec wanted it, and he eventually got to me.

Fast forward to this summer.  After getting myself back into some semblance of shape, I felt like perhaps I was ready to give this journey a shot.  We spent a few nights pouring over maps, compiling a list of necessary gear, and BS-ing over many beers.  The planning sessions were coupled with a few long trail runs; a 24-mile run up the Rock Creek trail on the northern side of the Snowy Range and 22-mile double Trudge loop, both complete with packs stuffed with the gear we planned to bring on the crossing in an attempt to get used to the weight.  This was crucial to me since I had zero experience running with a pack (my bag weighed in at 15lbs.). 

Alec put all that gear into his pack.  Note his infamous "Block of Cheese" by the first aid kit. (Photo by Alec Muthig).

The list of gear we composed was discussed at length in order to reach what we all agreed was an acceptable medium between lightweight and safety.  We wanted to move as quickly as possible, thus requiring a lightweight approach.  However, we didn’t want to sacrifice too much in the way of safety gear for the sake of saving weight.  As the 2010 trio found out, weather can take a turn for the worse very quickly among the 13,000 foot peaks of the Wind Rivers.  Get caught in a storm above tree line without the proper equipment and things can be potentially life-threatening.  This, combined with our trepidation regarding the Dinwoody Glacier (ice axes, ropes, and crampons were nixed from our list because of weight), was our chief concern.  Our final decision was to go lightweight and fast; if weather moved in on us while we were on the glacier or pass, our hope was to be able to move fast enough to avoid it.  My bag (a military-issued CamelBak Motherlode) the morning we began contained the following:

My pack.  Customized, baby!

70 oz. CamelBak bladder with Sawyer in-line filter

Emergency thermal bivy

Emergency poncho

Petzl headlamp

Personal first aid

Fire starting material (a couple of lighters and my favorite tinder, dryer lint!)

Minimal spare clothing (Mizuno BreatheThermo shirt, Under Armor cold gear shirt, Asics pants, hat, gloves)

Deet insect spray (mosquitoes were murder!)

Kahtoola microspikes

Trekking poles

~5,000 calories of food (3 PB&J sandwiches, granola bars, beef jerky, power gels w/caffeine, electrolite pills, Snickers bars, craisins, gum, etc.)

Garmin rino130 GPS (complete with NWS and emergency radio)

Leatherman multi-tool

Camera

Chapstick

Driver’s License (for body identification purposes)

I may be forgetting a thing or two, but this was the gist of it.  We had what we felt was sufficient to survive a night out there if circumstances demanded.  I think we all had our fingers crossed that it wouldn’t come it that.

I awoke in my tent at the Torry Creek/Glacier trailhead at 3am in order to get dressed, packed, fed, caffeinated (I don’t run a step without a cup of coffee in my system), and ready to go for our 4am start.  We congregated outside a pungent outhouse, took a group picture, complete with smiling faces, and began our adventure.

L to R: me, Patrick, Nate, Josh, Alec.  4am, 8/17/11. (Photo by Alec Muthig).

The first obstacle of the trip was the nearly 3,500 foot climb, complete with 29 switchbacks, up Arrow Mountain.  We reached the nearly 11,000 foot pass over Arrow Mountain around sun-up.  We stopped for our first food break and watched the sun brighten the peaks around us.  As we crested the top and started down toward Burro Flats, we surprised a herd of elk that circled around us before disappearing into a stand of trees.  The trail continued down for a few miles toward Dinwoody Creek.  Most of the trail was extremely rocky and the trekking poles were a welcome necessity.  We passed several gorgeous lakes including Double Lake, Star Lake, and the hanging Honeymoon Lake.

Sunrise from Arrow Mountain.

Double Lake.

  

Alec and Nate consulting our useless map.  At this point, it was still giving us reliable information.

Josh, Patrick, and Alec rest and enjoy the view.

Honeymoon Lake with a view of the Winds to the south.

Once down along Dinwoody Creek, I was feeling a little anxious.  My anxiety was fueled by several things.  I was going through my “not feeling so hot” phase.  The others warned me that we would all go though highs and lows, and that it would happen at different times for all of us.  I felt a little off for a few miles in there.  As we moved through the meadows, we could see clouds beginning to form over the tops of the high peaks, the very peaks we were climbing toward.  Weather was my number one concern.  This was compounded by the fact that things were taking us a lot longer than I, or any of us, had anticipated.  The longer it took us to get to Bonney Pass, the greater the chance of weather causing a problem.

Dinwoody Creek.

Our first view of Gannett Peak.

Our moose friend who, I must say, has chosen a very nice place in which to kick it.

We predicted we would reach Dinwoody glacier by 10am.  We finally got there at 1:30 in the afternoon.  At that point, the clouds had staved off and weather was no longer our chief concern.  However, one reason we wanted to be on the glacier earlier was that by 1:30, the ice had melted into more of a slush, increasing the difficulty of passage and the potential for weak spots and crevasses.  We took things tentatively at first, and then began moving quicker just to get off the damn thing.  After well over an hour, we got off the ice and onto a steep, class IV/V boulder field that took us to the top of Bonney Pass, approximately 12,834 feet.  We relaxed in a wind break constructed by mountain climbers and munched on food while enjoying a spectacular view of Gannett Peak, the highest point in Wyoming.  It was closing in on four in the afternoon, and after thirty miles of feeling less than great, I felt pretty good at that moment.  That would all change as we began down the other side of Bonney Pass and into Titcomb Basin.

Conquering Dinwoody Glacier.

Representing the Hungry Dog Track Club at 12,834 ft.

Enjoying a rest, some calories, and a breathtaking view.

The southern side of Bonney Pass turned out to be our real “crux.”  A steep 2,000 foot drop was made extremely difficult thanks to continued boulder fields interspersed throughout a snowfield.  The boulders came to an end; the snow stretched on before us.  We had had a brief discussion before hopping on the glacier about how to self-arrest with a trek pole.  Little did I know, what we discussed would actually turn out to be very relevant.

Titcomb Basin with Mt. Helen (13,620 ft.) on the left.

Patrick and Josh navigate a precarious boulder field.  The snow that followed tried to kill us.

Josh strode out onto the snow, sat down, and went.  He slid down, using his trek pole as a rudder.  It looked so easy…however, I wasn’t sure I could or wanted to do that.  I sat down, threw on my microspikes, telescoped my poles, and took a step out on the snow, intending to continue down the snow on foot.  I was on my ass and flying down the mountain before I even knew what was going on.  I gathered my senses and dug my remaining pole (the other one was ripped from my hand when I fell) into the snow with everything I had.  After a few moments, I got myself under control enough to stop from being plastered on the boulders below. As I pulled myself up and fought the adrenaline surge raging from my fall, I turned around just in time to see Nate go end-over-end on the snowfield. 

Nate may or may not be falling in picture.  I snapped it right after my fall.  It's blurry because the lens is fogged because I had the camera in my pocket when I fell.  A little bit of snow got in there.

Alec ran up, screaming at Nate.  “Arrest that motherfucker!” he yelled several times in a row.  I wondered what the plan was here; neither Alec nor I was going to physically stop Nate from falling.  No offense to Nate, but he was the largest body on our trip, outweighing the rest of us by 30-40 pounds.  We get in his way, he’s taking us with him.  Nate, after a few tense seconds, finally brought himself under control.  He sat for what seemed like twenty minutes, very obviously shaken-up.  Eventually, he, and the rest of us, collected ourselves and continued on into Titcomb Basin.  Our travails on Bonney Pass were just the beginning.

We entered the basin and began to encounter climbers, including our friend Ethan, camping out before making their attempts at Gannett the next day.  At this point, we were staring at 15-16 more miles to go.  And the sun was low on the horizon.  Again, I had a wave of anxiety come over me.  I realized that we would be running well into the night.  That prospect worried me.  At the same time, I started to feel lightheaded and nauseated.  The sleep monster, as Josh described, was creeping over me.  I ate a granola bar and perked right up.  However, Patrick was starting to hit rock bottom. 

My last picture of the trip, near the southern end of Titcomb Basin.  Ugh.

Unbeknownst to the rest of us, Patrick had been feeling sick since about nine in the morning and had eaten nothing since then.  Halfway through the basin, Patrick’s stomach finally rebelled.  He stopped to try to calm his stomach down.  In that time, we had a group pow-wow to discuss our options.  Alec and I were feeling good at that point and were chomping at the bit to move a little faster.  Josh and Patrick were considering staying put for a few hours in order to rest.  We were all concerned about what our support crew of Sandra and Josh’s dad and uncle were going to do.  We had predicted a 15-hour crossing; worst case scenario, Alec had instructed Sandra to alert Search & Rescue if we were still out after 28 hours.  As we sat in the basin, we realized that our 28-hour deadline (8am) wasn’t too far off.  We devised a plan to send two people out ahead at a fast pace in order to tell our support that everything was okay.  The other three would build a fire and hunker down for a couple hours until they felt better, at which point they would continue.  However, our ultimate decision was to not split up.  This conclusion was reached when Patrick vomited what was basically nothing but water and immediately felt better.  He hopped up and said, “Let’s get this over with.”

The remaining hours of the trip were grueling and frustrating.  We were battling fatigue and creeping doubts.  The trail wound around one lake after another, and in the dark, with the moon not yet up and illuminating the landscape, the lakes all seemed the same.  We would wind our way around one, just to go up a rise, down a descent, and around another lake.  By about 10pm, dissention was murmuring in the ranks.

We had given up on our map around Seneca Lake.  After realizing the distance the map listed from the start to the base of Dinwoody Glacier was almost five miles short, we came to find that the map’s interpretation of the trail around the lakes we were circumnavigating was totally inaccurate.  Where the map showed a straight line, we were finding a winding, twisting trail that was much longer than the map indicated.  This fact began to mess with our heads.  We questioned how far we had come, how far we had to go, and since the map seemed not match the physical landscape around us, we began to doubt even where the hell we were. 

I started hiking faster.  At that point, I was pissed off and ready to be done.  I moved as fast as I could without losing contact with the others.  I was growing increasingly frustrated with how much we were stopping, how long those stops were lasting, and how it seemed like we were getting no closer to our destination.  I started to hear grumblings from those behind me; were we lost, have we been going in circles, is this the right trail?  As the pacesetter at the time, I took those to be underhanded comments about my route finding.  I almost came unglued, nearly turning around to tell everyone to shut the fuck up about it.  But I stopped myself.  What was the point of lashing out like that?  What would it gain?  After a quick consultation with Patrick’s GPS, we concluded that we were on the right track and were actually gaining ground.  After that, I calmed down, collected myself, and focused my energy on finishing, not being angry.

We finally came to Photographer’s Point which provided us not with its usual breathtaking view (it was approaching midnight), but with reassurance that we were not only on the right path, but also getting very close to being done.  The little adrenaline surge we all got from that prospect spurred us on.  I made it another couple of miles before my legs finally gave me the middle finger and pretty much stopped working.  My hip flexors seemed incapable of lifting my legs, my ankles protested with searing shots of pain if they were asked to articulate over any uneven ground (a constant discomfort since we were on a trail), and I was cramping in my calves and hamstrings due to having run out of water (I had last filled up in Titcomb Basin, and had no water the last five or six miles).  I used my remaining trek pole as a cane and fell to the back of the group and willed my stupid body to just finish the last couple of miles.  Patrick and Alec stuck back with me while Josh and Nate took off for the finish.  At 1:30am, after 50 miles, over 10,000 feet of climbing, and a little over 21 hours on the move, I finally saw the taillights of our vehicles in the Elkhart Park trailhead parking lot.

We took a group photo at the beginning.  I remember during the course of the trip I had thought about grabbing a group photo at the end, kind of a “before & after” thing.  However, when we all got to the parking lot, little was said.  We expressed gratitude to Sanda and the Fullers, and then all simply threw our packs in the two vehicles, climbed in, and went in to Pinedale.  We got to the motel at around 2:30 in the morning, showers were taken, and then everyone passed out.

We all awoke after only about five hours of sleep; hunger driving us awake and in search of calories.  We congregated in the motel lobby and laid waste to their continental breakfast.  We sat and relived our experience over coffee for a couple of hours.  After that, we packed up the vehicles and walked down the road to the Wind River Brewery, where, even though we had breakfast just a couple of hours before, we again laid waste to their lunch menu and a couple of pitchers of beer.

L to R: Sandra, Patrick, Nate, Josh, Alec, me.  Wind River Crossing 2011 crew.  Kicking it at Wind River Brewery, Pinedale, WY.  8/19/11 (Photo by Alec Muthig).

A week later, we all met at our favorite local watering hole, The Library, for further discussion of the trip.  After a few days removed from the actual trip, I was amazed at how positive and excited we were.  No longer was it considered a stupid idea, as it was the night we finished.  We were pumped up, ready to go, and began boisterously throwing out ideas for our next great adventure.  I look forward to further talks over this winter.  And hopefully we get something ironed out so I can share another long-winded recollection of that adventure next year.

As for my other trek pole, it remains on the mountain, somewhere on the south side of Bonney Pass.  I consider it my sacrifice to the mountain gods; my pole for sparing my life.  The remaining pole shall be hung on my wall as a memento, and pretty good conversation piece.

*Note: Special thanks to Sandra Biller, Nick the dog, and the Fuller brothers for the great company and the great support!