2009 Season Is In The Books

Well, my 2009 season is over and done. I might decide to pick up another race or two, a Thanksgiving race and a Christmas race fur sure but nothing that I am really considering part of my “season.” So here are ho things shook out.

Bandera 100K – 17:52:03
Rocky Raccoon DNF at mile 80 in 23 hours and 45 minutes.
Atomic Man Duathlon - 2:56:15
Run for the Zoo 10K - 49:47
Jemez Mountain Trail Runs - 2:41:10
Santa Fe Century – 5:30
Milkman Triathlon - 1:14:05
Run the Caldera - 5:22:09
BSLT 70.3 - 5:46:59
Bottomless Triathlon - 54:22
City of Santa Fe Triathlon - 1:10:57
Socorro Chili Harvest Triathlon - 1:11:07
Elvis is Alive 5K, Chicago - 22:54
Full Moon Half-Marathon, Sheboygan, WI - 1:50:27
Los Alamos Triathlon - 1:19:20
F-1 Triathlon - 1:59:53
New Mexico Marathon - 4:17:14
Elephant Man Triathlon = 2:57:16
Pajarito Trail Fest 15-mile - 3:04:14
Palo Duro Trail Run - 5:56:08
Javelina 100 – 29:44:38

Not the season I necessarily wanted but a great season by all accounts. My intent was to do more long races, ultras and maybe a couple Ironman races but a December job change that was supposed to be temporary ended up lasting for nine months and it sucked up most of my spare time and energy. The GeekGrl and I also shipped our last kiddo off to the Navy and bought a second home so in addition to the plenty that was going on there was plenty more going on in addition to that.

I was determined to make my season opener a good one because my 2008 season ended in burnout. Bandera was a great choice and I just got out there and took my sweet time and finished with a smile. I followed that up with a DNF at mile 80 at Rocky Raccoon. That was a big disappointment and really set me back on my heels. It took me until the Run the Caldera trail marathon before I recaptured the enjoyment that I usually get from racing. By that time in the season I had already decided that I just needed to really focus on having fun and stop worrying if my training was on target or if I was doing what I really needed to be doing. It was also around this time that I really just started focusing in on trail running and pretty much cut out my cycling and swimming.

Even though I was enjoying my racing more and was enjoying my running more than ever I had lost any point in the season to which I could set my sights. It was then that I really began thinking about a late season 100 and thought the Javelina may be a good choice. I hadn't decided on it yet but I did start training for it. By the time I made the decision I had missed the cutoff but went ahead and put myself on the waiting list and kept training. In a short time I got the e-mail letting me know I was in and I really finally felt like I was back, my focus and motivation; in short, my old racing self.

I may not have run a great time at Javelina but I just can't stop thinking about how happy I was with that race for many different reasons. However, at the most basic level, I just feel like Javelina was a very real, very important and very positive turning point in my ultrarunning. After Javelina I now know that I can probably complete any 100-mile race out there if I focus my training and if I can hold to a minimum the mistakes I have made in the past. Some that I really want like Leadville and Western States would require that I make no mistakes but that doesn't worry me any more. I go out and just keep going until I'm done or I'm pulled; simple.

So, with that said I plan on making Leadville my number one goal for my 2010 season. There is still some uncertainty because I am also in the Western States lottery and if I get in to WS on December 5th then it will become the focus of my season and I will just wait to make any other plans with respect to Leadville.

I'm feeling like next year is going to be pretty exciting. I'm looking forward to its arrival.

Again Comes Lazarus: A Javelina Jundred Race Report

Caution - world's longest race report (but I think it's a good read)

After Javelina as the GeekGrl and I were about our business leaving Phoenix I couldn't help but notice how self-absorbed people were, perfectly able-bodied men not giving up their seat for the woman standing immediately in front of them on the bus, people speeding up to get in this line or that just before someone else who appeared headed for the same line, people sitting alone at tables for four at the food court while they were on their iphone while others stood around with food on trays with nowhere to sit. It was startling enough for me to make a comment to the GeekGrl and when she said she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary I knew that I had found my “why” for running the Javelina Jundred (and 1.4!).

Right around 8:00 the previous night I found myself running through the cold desert air wearing three shirts headlamp on, two bottles of water in one hand and a cup of peanut butter filled pretzel bites in the other wondering “why am I doing this?” I wasn't wondering it in a miserable suffering kind of way but in a more practical way like “Why should I eat a balanced diet, why not just exist on cheesecake?” and I was never able to come up with an answer though in my own defense it wasn't ever a particularly productive line of thought as my cognitive abilities had become pretty fragile by then. No, it wasn't until the next day at the airport that I figured out that my “why” for Javelina was all about experiencing the way in which humans will pull together to overcome seemingly impossible odds, how when the chips are down we do band together and see each other through.

In today's society it seems to take some great calamity to elicit this kind of communal behavior and I assure you that every time I make an attempt at running 100 miles it is indeed a great calamity. I am completely inappropriate as an ultra-distance runner. I have no particular talent for running, I weighed in on race morning at 232 pounds and my primary sports background is rugby; I'm a tight-head prop for god's sake. However, with just a little help from some friends I am actually able to pull off something that about only 2000 people a year ever accomplish, run 100 miles non-stop.

Lap 1 - 3 hours 6 minutes from 6:00 a.m. to 9:06 a.m.
The race started off in the coolness of the Arizona morning before the sun rose to punish people for living there. I felt absolutely fantastic having gotten in good mileage and a good taper before the race. My health was good and my spirits were high as the starting gun went off and I suddenly realized that I forgot my water bottles back at our little tent in the Javelina race village. As everyone surged forward onto the Pemberton trail I surged back against the crowd to retrieve my bottles and thus I was about the last person to actually start the race. If I were a believer in fate I could have seen what was coming but I am of the “completely unwarranted optimism” persuasion so I was pretty sure that despite this little glitch I would do something miraculous like run a 22 hour race. The first loop was in what I came to think of as the “hard” direction, clockwise. I found this direction hard simply because it begins with the sections of trail that are the steepest, most rocky and has the greatest number of pockets of deep sand. I ran this loop easy and spent little time at the two aid stations out on the course. It was a beautiful desert course with interesting scenery and it was fun to see several people running in costume.

Lap 2 - 3 hours 26 minutes from 9:07 a.m. to 12:32 p.m.
I rolled into the Javelina Jeadquarters after my first 15.4 mile loop and plopped down at the research tent to have my weight taken, nutrition data recorded, mental status/bodily function check and to get my sweat patch changed. The time spent at the research tent was insignificant since I just sat there while the GeekGrl rushed about getting everything I needed for my next loop, counterclockwise, the easy direction. I thought of it as easy for the same reason I thought of clockwise as hard. When you are running counterclockwise it begins with all the flatter, smoother, wider parts of trail and ends with the more technical stuff. I am much more happy running down a rocky slope than I am climbing up one. The loop was pretty uneventful as far as my performance though it was starting to heat up significantly toward the end of the loop and I was beginning to feel its effects.

Lap 3 - 4 hours 56 minutes from 12:33 p.m. to 5:29 p.m.
After coming in from my second lap I did the research tent thing and this time gave them some blood. The research protocol called for blood every other lap but I doubt this had any significant impact on my performance either. What did have an effect on my performance was the heat. I'm not sure how hot it got during the day but I can tell you that it had been cold and snowing in Albuquerque before our departure to Arizona and I was not prepared for the Arizona desert. I slowed my pace considerably but still could not stomach any of the sports drink I was carrying. I stopped drinking altogether about half an hour into lap 3 which meant another hour of running through the heat of the day fully exposed to the Sonoran desert sun before hitting the aid station called Coyote Camp. When I finally got to Coyote Camp I was baking hot, my lips were parched and I felt sick to my stomach. I knew I desperately needed fluids and fuel but I just couldn't think of what I could possibly stomach. I sat down in a chair under a canopy they had set up for runners like me and just tried to cool down a bit and think. The aid stations workers were right with me asking what I needed and trying to assess my problem. I finally ended up drinking about 40 ounces of water, a couple cups of ginger ale and maybe half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I also took about 4 electrolyte caplets. It took me maybe 10 minutes sitting at the aid station but I finally cooled down a bit and was back from the dead for the first of many times.

I knew I couldn't stomach any sports drink so I filled both my bottles with water and hit the trail. I was skeptical about my ability to run the hour and a half or more I knew it would take me to get to the next aid station but felt I had little choice. I made it about a mile from Coyote Camp and became nauseated. Another mile and I found myself on the side of the trail throwing up. I still had three miles to go before reaching the next aid station at Jackass Junction. By the time I reached the junction I was fairly confused as to what was going on around me but I knew that I needed to stop and take in as much fluid and calories as I could. I also knew I needed electrolytes. I downed another 40 ounces of fluid and think I ate a whole PB&J sandwich. I swallowed 8 more electrolyte caplets along with three cups of ginger ale. There is no way I should have taken as many electrolytes as I did but like I said I wasn't thinking clearly. After taking in as much as I could I was again revived and back on the trail for yet another duel in the sun.

Lap 4 - 5 hours 16 minutes from 5:30 p.m. to 10:46 p.m.
Coming off lap three everyone was concerned about my status because it had taken me so much longer to run this lap than the previous two. Sitting in the research tent I told the GeekGrl that I thought I would do well with bottles filled with half water and half coke. I thought this would give me the fluids and calories that I so desperately needed. I also had her grab me more ginger ale and my stomach felt settled enough that I was able to take a gel with water. At this point I also changed shoes and noticed that my tape job had come apart so I went over to the medical tent and had them re-tape my feet. This added a good bit of time to my 4th lap but it was necessary. Once I had everything attended to it was back out on the trail heading counterclockwise to Jackass Junction.

I took about two sips from my genius coke and water mixture and immediately became nauseated once again so it was about 4 and a half miles to the aid station with nothing to hold me over except for the knowledge that the sun would soon be setting and cooler temperatures would shortly follow. By the time I reached Jackass Junction I was in pretty bad shape. My stomach was in knots and I was confused. I couldn't formulate any kind of plan for myself and knew that even if I did come up with something the plan could not be trusted. I was fully in the hands of the aid station workers and let me tell you something, they were amazing hands to be in.

I don't know how I got so lucky and I wish I knew names to give them credit but at that aid station happened to be a guy who had been in charge of medical at Badwater, a woman that I know nothing about except she seemed to have a British accent and another experienced and very enthusiastic ultrarunner who sounded like he may have been from New York. The Badwater doc explained what was going on with my body and why it was happening. He sat me down and just kept talking to me until I was better oriented before going off to do other mysterious doctor things somewhere else. Before I knew it British accent woman was at my side with a heated blanket. She not only wrapped me up but convinced me to sit in a chair next to a heater instead of the one out in the cold that I had plopped into. She also got me to eat some warm noodle soup and drink some more ginger ale. As I sat in my cozy little corner of the aid station eating my soup and drinking my ginger ale ultra guy came up and started working on my motivation. I confided in him saying that I just couldn't think straight anymore, that I had been so long without proper nutrition that I simply could not access my own store of knowledge. He said a lot to me but what I remember most was suddenly standing with him in front of the aid station table and telling him “I don't know what to eat.” He stood there with me pointing out the pros and cons of the various items available and helped me settle on some good food choices. He then sent me out into the night wearing three shirts, headlamp on, two bottles of water in one hand and a cup of peanut butter filled pretzel bites in the other. I had spent maybe 30 minutes at that aid station but I was once again back from the dead and this time it was for good.

Lap 5 - 5 hours 6 minutes from 10:47 p.m. to 3:53 a.m.
Lap five was the Andy Cope lap. Andy is a good friend of mine from Mesa, AZ who elected to come out and pace me for a night lap despite having the Silverman triathlon coming up in just one week. I can not tell you how big a difference having a pacer makes. Andy kept me focused the whole lap. He wasn't keeping me focused like a coach might by yelling and cajoling, no he just chatted with me and told me stories and reminisced about some of the good times we have had. I didn't really ever say much back to him because I didn't understand much of what he was saying, I mean, I understood what he was saying but I couldn't formulate any reasonable answers. I believe it was this lap that I started to see things, mostly just shadows skittering off the side of the trail though it is entirely possible that Andy got the hearing things lap and the GeekGrl got the seeing things lap. In any case my body was doing much better but my mind was still taking a rest. Andy pulled me through and handed me off to the GeekGrl ready for my sixth lap.

Lap 6 - 4 hours 43 minutes from 3:54 a.m. to 8:37 a.m.
I loved this lap. It started in the easy direction and I was able to run it with my wife. Even more enjoyable was the fact that we would get in a nice moonlight run that would also contain a spectacular desert sunrise half-way through the lap just as we were heading east. I started the lap strong but kept it at a brisk power walk since I knew it was about seven miles uphill. I made it in about 4 miles and began to falter. I was just so tired of walking uphill and I think it was getting to me mentally more than anything else. I was also caught in some of the darkest hours of untrarunning, between two and six a.m. when your body has become desperate for sleep. I kept telling the GeekGrl that this was the hardest time, a time when you felt physically beaten and you have spent so much time in darkness that your whole world has become your own dark thoughts. I knew that if I could just make it to sunrise it would be a new day and a new race.

When the sun rose my spirits lifted and I felt revived. The air warmed a bit and became perfect for running. I was in that sweet spot where simple pleasures like a sunrise or an interestingly formed saguaro cactus is almost enough to bring you to tears. My mind was wiped clean and I felt as if I could see. I repeated to myself a Buddhist phrase: no mind, no body, no beginning, no end, I am the Tathagata. Ok, I know what you're thinking “Ca-ra-ZEE” but let me explain, I didn't really believe I was the historical Buddha. If you read the Wikipedia definition far enough through you will notice that the word essentially means that reality is what it is. I guess you could say that I was making a Popeye like affirmation “I yam what I yam and that's all what I yam!” And with that I stripped down bare chested and ran like hell through the desert morning leaving my lovely wife to chase after me.

Lap 7 - 3 hours 11 minutes from 8:38 a.m. to 11:49 a.m.
My final lap. This is a partial lap extending only about 9 miles. The sun was up once I started and my good friend Don joined me to pace. Don had attempted the 100 mile race along with me but pulled out after 62 miles because of concern over possible hypothermia; Don isn't blessed with the same quantity of insulation as I possess. Anyway, despite his ordeal he wanted to pace me through my last miles back into the heat of the day. I took in more fluid and nutrition during this lap than I had at any other point but by this time fatigue, tender feet and muscle soreness made a finish questionable. I mean, I knew I would finish but I didn't know if I could make the 30 hour cutoff. Don had to push me. I wasn't fully capable of monitoring my pace and he had to remind me to pick it up or had to make deals with me, “let's run to that cactus and then we'll walk.” The heat was miserable for both of us and with 62 miles already in his legs we both had the right to be cranky but somehow it worked out. He never held out unrealistic expectations or made any uninformed comments about my resistance to faster forward momentum.

In the end there was Andy with his camcorder and the GeekGrl with a big smile. New York accent guy was yelling like crazy as I crossed the finish line after 29 hours 44 minutes and 38 second of relentless forward motion. I was finally finished. I came back from the dead again and again and now have my Western States qualifying run on the off chance that I get selected from the lottery this year. I learned a lot during this race and my love and respect for the sport is even greater than before. I am convinced that long distance running is the most natural of human endeavors and that it brings out the greatest reality of the human condition. We are frail and we are strong and despite what we may think we need each other to make it through this life.

So, Off We Go

“To be a warrior is not a simple matter of wishing to be one. It is rather an endless struggle that will go on to the very last moment of our lives. Nobody is born a warrior, in exactly the same way that nobody is born an average man. We make ourselves into one or the other.”
Carlos Castaneda

This past week during my taper I have really focused on getting mentally prepared for the race, developing the mindset of a warrior. I always hesitate to say something like that because in today's culture there is very little of what I consider the true warrior spirit left, only and endless stream of adolescent bravado and puerile "tough-guyness" that I do not share. I have spent a lot of time visualizing myself running through the desert, through the night and through the inevitable discomfort and doubt. I have been repeating "embrace the pain" to myself and trying to imagine in as much detail as possible what I experienced during my last 15 miles at Lean Horse and my last 20 at Rocky Raccoon. I haven't just been focused on the difficulties of the ultrarunning though, I have also been focusing on the joy I experience while running long distances, the people I will meet and the euphoria I will feel when I eventually cross the finish line. Well, ok, by the time I cross the finish line the whole euphoria thing may have to wait for the pain and fatigue to subside but I know I will feel it. My hope though is that I do get to enjoy it right away, that I get to enjoy my final few miles. I know it is possible and I know it is in me.

This past week I also signed up for something else that I think is kind of cool; a research study taking place at the Javelina. This is the study title:
Sodium Balance in Male Runners Participating in a 160 km Footrace.

This is what they are looking at:
This study aims to determine if salt losses in Javelina Jundred runners are significant enough to require sodium supplementation during the race to prevent life-threatening hyponatremia (low blood sodium). This study will investigate if salt losses in sweat and urine are regulated by the body to maintain blood sodium levels within normal levels during prolonged and extreme endurance exercise. By measuring both salt input and salt output during the Javelina Jundred, we can determine overall sodium balance in male runners and calculate just how much salt is necessary (or not!) to maintain blood sodium levels within the normal physiological range.

And this is what they will do during the race:
The study will be conducted during the race. Before the race, we will collect a baseline blood sample (1 teaspoon) from an arm vein for measurement of electrolytes, plasma volume and arginine vasopressin – the body’s main anti-diuretic hormone. We will also be measuring body mass on a digital scale pre-race and after completion of each ~15 mile loop. During the race, we will ask each subject to pee in a bottle located every five miles (checkpoints are every five miles) if and only when necessary. We will measure salt output in sweat using a forearm patch, changed every ~15 miles (per loop). Five mL (1 teaspoon) of blood will be taken upon completion of every second loop (~30 miles) during the race and at race finish to assess electrolytes, plasma volume and arginine vasopressin levels. We will be taking an inventory of all food and fluid intake to estimate salt intake.

This might slow me down a little but I don't really care because it is in the interest of furthering the science base in ultrarunning, something that is vital to the advancement of the sport. It is also my hope that my participation in the study may advance the science behind Clydesdale endurance athletes, after all this is Studies in Clydeology.

Aside from my simple enjoyment gained from participating in some nerdly endeavor I also get three other big bonuses for participation. After the race I get a full analysis of my nutrition and everything else they are studying, which may provide me with some insights into waxing and waning performance throughout the race and provide me with data for future race planning. It will give me an opportunity to practice keeping my weight up throughout an endurance run because I'll be getting weighed every 15 miles. This is actually a big concern for me when I look at races like Western States or Leadville where they are very strict about monitoring an athlete's weight and holding them at aid stations or even pulling them from the race due to weight loss. I can drop 7 pounds during an 8 hour workout, which is a little more than 3% of my body weight and enough to get the medical staff at an ultra interested in my continued progress. I don't want them to be interested in me. In fact I want the medical staff to take one look at me and immediately fall into a comatose state due to boredom.

Finally, and probably most importantly for my present purposes, my participation in the study may pull me through some of the low points. I am a sucker for obligations and during times when I may decide to blow something off myself I will go to crazy lengths to come through for other people to whom I feel an obligation.

So, off we go. I am bib # 192 and can be tracked online through the race website.
Wish me luck!

Getting Close to Go Time

Five days and a wake up before I toe the line at my 4th attempt at the 100 mile ultra. The first attempt was Lean Horse with a successful finish in 27:28:56 and a whole host of very painful blisters. Even before crossing that finish line I did the traditional swearing off the 100-mile ultra but was soon registered for the Arkansas Traveler 100. That was a big mistake, way too soon after Lean Horse. This race I learned just how difficult it is to build up to the ability to consistently run 100's and how hard it is to recover from one if you lack a very deep running base. I DNF'd the Traveler at mile 31.9 and that was probably one of the better decisions I have made in my racing career. My last attempt at 100 miles was at Rocky Raccoon. That race just started off poorly and got worse. For some reason I was triping like crazy through the whole course. I was kicking the hell out of every root in sight and this caused me a great deal of pain. Though probably worse was my dim headlamp during the night loop. I “ran” the whole loop crouched and creeping and by the time I finished the lap my back and shoulders were frozen in a painful slouch and I didn't continue because I just couldn't see how I could possibly make the 30-hour cutoff.

So now here I am again standing at the brink of a 100-mile footrace. I feel like I am probably better trained than I have been for any previous attempt though my weight is higher than I would like. I have moved to a new home that sits right off a large series of mountain trails so I have more trail running experience than I have ever had before. I have studied the 100-mile ultra and have done everything I can think of to prepare. My taper has gone well and I am injury free. Everything is pointing to a good run and hopefully my second finish.

Oh yes, my goal is just to finish, that is the primary focus. However, that doesn't mean that I haven't obsessed over all my options. Of course the one I will be aiming at is something under 27:28:57 but I also think a sub-24 is entirely possible though I won't specifically try for that. I have developed a pace chart listing for all kinds of possible finish times and that is only to give me a way to track my performance through the race and into the wee hours when I can no longer think straight.

I just plan to go easy, run smooth, hit the aid stations hard and enjoy myself. If you have the time and inclination the Javelina Jundred will have online athlete tracking through the website.

I will get this one, I can feel it.

Damn I-pod!: A Palo Duro Race Report

Last year I ran Palo Duro and attempted the 50-mile race. The problem was that I was in a steep decline at that time. Two months prior to the race I ran my first 100-mile ultra, stupidly tried to run another 100-mile ultra within a month and DNFd due to IT band pain and then a couple weeks later was pulled from Palo Duro after missing the cutoff to continue out onto the 4th and final lap. I was initially tempted to get my revenge on the 50-mile course today but I like to think I can learn from my mistakes so, seeing as how I have another 100-mile attempt this October 31st I decided to run the 50K.

The race, now in its 25th year, was founded by Red Spicer. In fact the entire trail system in Palo Duro Canyon was founded by him and mostly built by him. Red, who passed just last year, is famous throughout the world of ultrarunning for his witticism “I hammered down the trail, passing rocks and trees like they were standing still.”

The 50K at Palo Duro starts off with a six mile loop through the wetter and more wooded part of the canyon. The next two loops are 12.5 mile loops that include the aforementioned six miles plus 6.5 additional miles out in the juniper strewn, rocky, red soiled canyon badlands. The first three miles of the morning includes all the 50-mile and 50K runners until the two part ways with the 50-milers heading out onto the 12.5 mile loop first thing and the 50K runners turning to complete the initial six miles. The first three miles, unless you chose to literally line up in the very front row of runners, is pretty slow and involves a lot of walking. This is so because the race narrows to single track within 100 yards of the start. In many ways this is a good thing because it forces you to not go out too fast.

I completed my first six mile loop at an average pace of 13:10 per mile. The first 3 of those miles were mostly in the dark and like I said mostly walking or slow jogging but at the three mile point there is the split between the milers and the “K'ers” and there is an aid station. Not needing anything yet I skipped the aid station and fell in behind a guy with really long hair that was tied back and he was wearing an El Scorcho shirt (a very cool race by the way and where I hold my 50K PR). He looked to be a good steady runner and looked pretty strong too so I figured I would do well to hang behind him. I ran behind him all the way to the completion of the six mile loop and by the end we had dropped our average pace down to about 11:42 per mile.

As we pulled in to the mile six aid station I was thinking that this was a really nice pace and I thought that I would just hang with El Scorcho guy all day. However, he lingered at the aid station and I was ready to go so I just headed out thinking he would probably catch up. I also took this time to turn on my I-pod and test out my ultra mix. The first song on my ultra play list is Run by Collective Soul. It really puts me in the right frame of mind for a nice long run.

Of course I follow this up with several high energy songs that are either “tough” like AC/DC “Hard as a Rock” or kind of “funky tough” like Cake “Going the Distance”. Well with all that going on of course I was burning down the trail in no time passing people left and right and despite my plan to take it easy at this race by the time I had finished 18.5 miles I had dropped my average pace to a 10:47 per mile pace.

I finished up the first 18.5 feeling really good but I could feel a blister forming on the bottom of my left foot and then I had a brilliant idea. I thought to myself as I was kind of jogging over to my drop bag full of new shoes and foot care gear, “Hey, I could just skip the foot care and run the next 12.5 miles through the heat of the day on blisters! That would be great training for my upcoming 100-miler! I could practice running through the pain!” And so I veered sharply away from my drop bag and made a b-line straight for the trail and 12.5 miles of hot, dusty trail running purgatory.

Of course I didn't immediately think it was a bad idea. At first I was thinking it would work out quite well because though I could feel some pain it seemed like I was pretty much able to ignore it...and then I landed perfectly, squarely, dead-center blister on a nice sharp rock. WOW! That snapped me out of whatever masochistic crazy man land I had so recently been inhabiting and placed me squarely into the midst of reality, a reality that I was not altogether pleased with. Despite my new found dissatisfaction with my ill conceived plan I didn't immediately think, “Well, I'm two miles from the next aid station so I can get there and take care of the foot.” My thought was, “Well, it feels like that rock tore the blister open so now at least it will drain and flatten and not hurt as much.”

I really can't account for this madness so I have to believe someone drugged my Gatorade. Anyway I kept running, refueled at the next aid station and just headed back out onto the trail. I noticed three things about then, the temperature had climbed to 80 degrees, the Texas sun was now completely unencumbered by clouds and my average pace had dropped to 11:01 per mile. I landed solidly on another walnut sized rock and was rudely reminded of a fourth thing....Ouch!

I pressed on through the juniper, through the red dust, through the kamikaze grass hoppers and into the heat radiating from the canyon walls. I could have slowed down by a good 30 seconds or more per mile and been cooler, more pain free because after all I am a big guy and I generate plenty of my own heat without the aid of exertion and the Texas sun. But, you see, the thing is if I could just maintain about a 10:45, maybe 11 minute pace all the way to the finish line I just might PR, just maybe and so I gritted my teeth and leaned into the trail once more and drug my average pace back down to 10:59 per mile.

Then a long series of short, steep climbs on rocky, lumpy trail began. Before I knew it I was at 11:05, 11:10, 11:15, 11:20. I was cooked and my left foot was hurting like nobody's business.

Fortunately at this point in the run my curious I-pod fiasco began and took my mind off things. I don't know what the deal is but the longer I have my I-pod on in a run the louder it gets, or seems to get, until I feel like my ears must start bleeding at any moment and I just want to drop to my knees clutching my ears and scream at the heavens. Mind you I don't initially think, “Wow, that's loud, I should take the speakers out of my ears.” Rather, I become wracked with anguish over my predicament and lament my sorry lot mile after mile.

I should explain here that I come by this trait honestly. I really don't know if my father ever reads my blog but I know my mom does and she has already guessed what is coming next. I get this curious trait of clinging to a bad situation until it becomes complete insanity from my dear old dad. Enough said, I'm only here to air my own strangeness.

Anyhow, as my world was being snuffed out by a maelstrom of sound a mountain biker went flying past me and I lept from the trail startled to see about 10 more zooming along immediately behind him. This startled me enough to get me to stop and think what a smashing idea it would be if I were to pull my I-pod out of my water bottle holster and turn it down.

For some reason this task is almost impossible for me to accomplish. Me operating my I-pod is like having an uncoordinated, hyperactive giant with swollen fingers operate a wristwatch calculator. I can make the damn thing go “click, beep, boop”, I can move forward and backward on the song and can pull up 50 different and completely useless menus. Hell, I can even turn it up somehow far beyond what the technical specifications would suggest is possible. I just can't, for the life of me, make it nice and sweet and quiet so I thrust the whole thing, still blasting, into my water bottle holder and grimly pointed myself back down the trail. Eleven minutes, twenty five seconds per mile average!

Thirty minutes later I am done. I have run the 31 miles at Palo Duro in 5:55 and change. Do I love this stuff? Absolutely! The first and second laps were pure joy, the canyon was beautiful, the air was clean and the temperatures were mild. The last lap, well, that presented me with several opportunities to persevere, to be humbled and maybe most importantly, to just shake my head and laugh at myself. It leaves me wondering, am a smart man that sometimes does dumb things or am I a dumb man that sometimes does smart things? Am I a strong man with weaknesses or am I a weak man with strengths? These, I think, are things worth considering, things worth experiencing. These things I think are the things that keep me grounded in what it really means to be human.

Good times, great adventures and excellent friends, this is my crazy ultrarunning world.

Haulin' My Big Aspen at Pajarito

I've recently entered taper mode for my upcoming ultras,Palo Duro and Javelina, and so my long run is down to 15ish miles. About three days ago I was surfing the internet kind of planning out some possibilities for next season and I stumbled across the Pajarito Trail Fest this very weekend in Los Alamos, NM and their longest event is 15 miles. Score! I love the chance to go run some new trails and I have really come to enjoy racing in Los Alamos so the GeekGrl and I signed up despite the rather intimidating profile. We figured it would be a good challenge.

Upon arrival at the Pajarito Ski area the GeekGrl and I stood around looking at all the super fit people wearing shirts that say Hardrock, Leadville, and Wasatch and thought "Um, this is not your typical local race crowd." The GeekGrl when over and asked someone about the particular brand of athlete at this race and it turns out “Only the hardcore mountain runners tend to show up for this race.” Great, I already know the last place male last year came in at around 3:45 but I guess I don't know what he looked like. It is possible that last year there was a whole heard of Clydesdales that stumbled into this race just as unwittingly as I had.


The route is basically a lolly-pop with a six mile loop and nine miles worth of out and back. The course starts at just over 9250 elevation, yes that is nine THOUSAND two hundred and fifty feet above sea level, and drops to just over 9100 in the first mile. After that little warm up it climbs to just over 10500 elevation in the next two miles. That climb was obviously steep but not as bad as you might think. There were several switchbacks that were short but fairly flat and they tended to be connected by steep ramps. We then drop back down to 9250 over the next two miles and this also had a lot of nice switchbacks but the beginning was straight down a ski slope which proved to be a challenge because I had not really tightened my shoes enough for really steep downhill running and my toes were slamming into the fronts of my shoes. I took a look when I got home and I may lose a toenail or two. Ahh the life of a trail runner.


After the giant climb and descent dejour it is time for the out and back section and that rolls pretty gently with an overall upward trend back up to 9750 on the way out. At the final aid station, which you hit twice, a man holding a clip board looked at me and said “#88, is your name Lynn? You a 36 year old female?” and I said “sure” then turned and gave him a little wiggle. The crew loved it and sent me on my merry way. The actual turn around point of the trail drops about 250 rocky, rooty feet in about a quarter mile and at the turn around you have to tear a page out of a scientific journal and turn it back in to the next aid station to prove you ran the full out and back. The course then rolls back down from 9750 to the start at 9250 with a little quarter mile of uphill at the end. I was pretty smoked by this time but was holding on fairly well.

I crossed the finish line in 3:04:30 and was pretty happy with my work. The first place guy was some bearded guy who I saw running uphill and he was just the picture of pain. He finished in two hours flat! The second place guy was the top amateur triathlete in the state and he took sixth at the Best of the U.S a couple years ago. He finished up in 2:09. Just to give you some perspective this guy can do the hardest duathlon in the state, a 10K – 40K – 5K also at elevation in about the same time, actually a bit faster.

The course is probably 80% single track, 15% cross country ski trail and 5% fire roads. It is also spectacular. The run goes through an old growth pine forest mixed with aspen, which are changing this time of year. There are huge vistas, mountain meadows and shadowy forest all in one run. There are also a couple amazing views of the Valles Caldera, through which the GeekGrl and I ran a marathon earlier in the season.

This is a race that I will put on my annual event calendar for sure. It was awesome! It was awesome in every respect.

And the Ayes Have It!

Dear Brian,

Congratulations! I wanted to inform you that you have been elected as a regional council member in the Rocky Mountain region. On behalf of the nominating committee of USA Triathlon, thank you for your commitment to the sport of Triathlon.

The overall results will be posted next week on www.usatriathlon.org. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to contact myself or Sharon Carns of USAT. My contact information is below and Sharon’s is the following:

Sharon Carns | Executive/Governance Affairs Manager | USA TRIATHLON
1365 Garden of the Gods :: Suite 250 | Colorado Springs, Colorado 80907

Cool! I was appointed to the Rocky Mountain Region council last year and have since represented the state of New Mexico but now it's a bit different, I'm actually an elected member of the council.

By the way, very little participation in our USAT elections....wassup peeps?