Daily Adventures

RecoFIT Compressor Leg Sleeves Review

2012-01-30T19:12:00.000-08:00

It occurred to me sometime last spring, during my heavytraining phase, that most long runs are followed by a decently long car ride.This may not be true for everyone, but in the winter, I frequently drive anhour or more to run dirt trails for my weekend long run. Even in summer, Imight drive up to 90 minutes to hit the amazing Sierra trails south of LakeTahoe. You may have noticed, as I have, that sitting for an hour following fiveto ten hours of running isn’t ideal for recovery purposes.

Coincidentally, last spring is also when I fell in love withmy Compressor Leg Sleeves by RecoFIT. (Okay, maybe not such a coincidence.)

If you haven’t read my review of the RecoFIT CompressionCalf Sleeves, you might want to skim through that one first, especially if you're new to compression components. It is one of my most popular all-time posts here at Daily Adventures. In thatreview, I outline how compression technology works and the benefits toathletes. The short version is that compression helps recovery by aiding incirculation. I actually find both the calf sleeves and the Compressors to beimportant tools for my training and racing.

The Compressors are a full leg sleeve that fit from theankle to the top of the thigh. Yes, they’re thigh-highs, not tights. And withthat in mind, I do not suggest, upon receiving your Compressors in the mail,that you immediately strip down in your living room and try them on with yourpanties. Unless you’ve lately not been receiving appropriate attention fromyour husband, in which case I highly recommend it. Ahem.

The advantages of individual leg sleeves, as opposed to apair of tights, may not be obvious at first. I like them because you can justthrow them on with your shorts right after a run or race. They also fit morecomfortably under other pants with no bulk around the waist or hips. I worethem under my jeans for days after pacing at Hardrock.

The carbon-based Resistex fabric breathes wonderfully anddisperses heat and moisture. The sleeves have graduated compression to helpprevent fluids pooling in the lower legs. They also have zone-specificcompression and are left and right specific. In other words, you have goodcompression across the muscles where you need it, but a lot of flexibilityaround the knees.

Another thing I really appreciate about these sleeves is thespecific sizing. Ladies may find the size chart familiar from the packaging ona pair of nylons. Your size is dialed in by both your height and weight, whichhelps ensure a very accurate fit. Mine are a small-long and fit great, butthere are ten different sizes available! Very cool for those of us with finickyfit issues.

Size Chart

Currently, they retail for $75 from Wilderness Running. Not even a steep price tag for what you're getting in recovery benefits.

It should be clear by now that, as with RecoFIT’s calfsleeves, I became a big fan of the Compressors very quickly. I wore them afterevery Sunday run in the canyons last year, on the drives home from Miwok andAR50, and all around Silverton in July.

The un-sciencey part of compression-wear is that it justfeels good. It’s soothing, and it definitely takes the edge off a pair ofaching legs. Whenever one sleeve gets lost in the laundry, I get all panicky. Idon’t want to go into my heavy training phase without them!

Have you tried the Compressors, or other compression-wear? I’dlove to hear your thoughts!

Product generously provided for review by RecoFIT Sports.

January Adventures

2012-01-22T20:24:00.000-08:00

I sit in my tiny office at home, staring out the wide window,watching the wilderness grow white. Snow, at last. The whole town celebrates.Christmas comes late.

It’s been one of those times where I actually have so muchthat needs saying, I don’t know where or how to begin. Thoughts dance around,frenzied, in my brain where things get so crowded that there’s no room left toopen the door and let them out. While outside it’s been a winter of drought, ablizzard rages in my head.

With so many trails available, I’ve managed quite a bit morerunning than normal for this time of year. I feel strong, physically. I even ran a half-marathon PR during aquick trip to visit family in SoCal – 1:33:something. The time doesn’t soundthat fast to me for some reason, but it hurt. Oh yes, it did. Like only a shortroad race can.

I’ve been a most-of-the-time participator in the 31 Days of Adventure, as well. Although I haven’t found time or opportunity to do all ofthem, I’ve enjoyed the ones I’ve done and filed the rest away for the future. Onetheme I’ve noticed among the adventures is mindfulness. Many of them involvethings I might do normally, such as watch the sunrise, but the difference is doingthem with intention, paying attention. I like this because it’s so easy to flythrough your day without noticing things, and what a waste! Here’s a quicksnapshot of a few of my “31 Adventures” this month:

Day #2 “Notice theLittle Things” I noticed the sound of the ice on Marlette Lake. Not exactlylittle, but a sound I rarely get to enjoy. It was like giant reverberatingdrums, like futuristic guns fired by unseen Stormtroopers echoing between themountains. Eerie, beautiful, and completely mesmerizing.

Day #5 “Cook upSomething New” Caramelized pears. Not difficult, but requiring a littleplanning ahead since they need 4 hours of refrigeration between baking and sauteing. So delicious. So appreciated by my husband. (They go well withrosemary garlic chicken marinated in white wine.)

Day #19 “Choose aColor and Notice Where it Shows Up” My chosen color was orange. I think wewere supposed to notice it in the natural world, but my classroom is my naturalworld most days so I just rolled with that thought. Here are some places orangeappears in my classroom:

Nemo, (lucky-fin side) as crocheted for me by a student.

Teacher's bookshelf.

Angelfish. (Not as funny as clownfish.)

Day #21 “Check Outthe Constellations” This one wasn’t tough for me, and definitely one ofthose things I’d have done anyway. A 4:50 A.M. meeting time for a 10-milerbefore work with my friend Jenelle revealed a moonless sky incredibly brightwith stars. Even better was the double dose of their reflection on a glassyDonner Lake. Stars above and below, we ran through the chilly night sky. Ranthrough the heavens.

Fun stuff, for sure. And in the vein of adventures, if you’reinterested in a few of the epic type rather than the daily type, I have a fewopportunities for you.

First, for the surfer girls and wannabe surfer girls outthere: The Las Olas Surf Safari Scholarship. Write a 200 word essay and youcould win an all expenses paid surf safari in Mexico. I have to admit, the women-onlytrips at Las Olas look absolutely dreamy: daily surfing with instruction, beautiful accommodations,gourmet food, yoga, and massage. I haven’t written myessay yet, but I definitely plan to! Submission deadline is January 31.

Second, Greg, from Mayan Running Adventure is offering a$250 discount on trips at mayanrunningadventure.com. When you register for your trip, just mention that youheard about it here. I, unfortunately, have never been on one of these tripsmyself. I perused the website though, and they look pretty sweet – custom trail runningadventures in Guatemala. If anyone has been on one of these trips and hasfeedback, please leave a comment. And if you plan on going, seeing as how it’sa Mayan thing, I suggest completing your journey before December 21.

I do have a slew of (unwritten) blog posts I’m hoping toshare in the coming weeks. (See aforementioned blizzard.) Until then, here are some pictures from a run last weekend exploring trails in the east bay:

Thank You, Robert and Linda

2012-01-01T21:58:00.000-08:00

2012 seems off to a rough start. It’s early afternoon, and thelist of chores I’d tasked for the day has been all but ignored. I’ve taken thebox of Christmas decorations upstairs – one step closer to the storage closet.Otherwise: nothing.

As the sun’s glow filters lower through the trees, my enthusiasmwanes for the afternoon’s planned track workout (5X800). I downgrade it to aseven-miler around Donner Lake and think about cleaning out my closet (#1 on myshunned chore list). I settle for cleaning out the microwave (not on my list)and roam restlessly through the house until I realize the dogs need a walk.

It’s a typical procrastination pattern for me, except thething I’m trying to shove aside isn’t something I should be doing, it’ssomething I don’t want to think about. It’s this feeling in my heart, the knowledgethat two friends, Robert and Linda Mathis, were killed last night by a motoristwhile crossing the street in Incline Village.

I head out the back door and off into the woods with the dogs,their deaths heavy on my mind. Robert and Linda were the RD’s for the ultrarunner.netrace series, and I try to reach back into my memories and recall the first raceof theirs that I ran. I’m pretty sure it was Lake of the Sky, which wasprobably also my favorite of their races. I find myself wondering if I willever get to run it again and think how nice it would be to run a memorial raceon that course in their honor. I smile because I know I am no RD. Still, withthe winter we’re having, we could run that race next weekend. Not a race, but acommunity run perhaps. It’s a nicethought because it feels like doing something. Something! In a situation for which nothing can be done.

The dogs run far ahead and I am alone on the pine needlepath. As the sun slides closer to Donner Peak, I realize if I’m to get my runin, I’ll have to do it by headlamp. I shrug. I let go of the workout altogetherand choose trails that extend the dog walk. I blame it on PMS and laziness. I don’t feel likerunning.

I feel the dirt and sticks and pine needles through mythin-soled shoes and take comfort in feeling a part of the landscape. The dogsreturn to check on me before quickly catching a scent and bolting for anotherromp. I allow myself to be alone with my memories.

I had just been talking with Jamie the day before about howwhen you’re new to ultra running, you seek out mentors – people who can helpyou learn the trails, find gear, and meet other runners. Robert and Linda didmuch of that for me through the races they put on. Their events were typically low-keyaffairs, but done with care and professionalism. There were always well-markedcourses, plenty of aid, and smiling folks there to help. I learned many of thetrails in the Sierra Foothills through running their races, and I also met manyfriends there for the first time. People like Peter, Catherine, Scott, Lainie,and Dave, just to name a few. Twice I competed in their race series, takingthird place in 2007 and second in 2009. It was not a highly competitive series,but they always had great prizes, and the pile of Inov-8 shoes I won got methrough many wonderful miles of trail.

In addition to their own races, Robert and Linda could oftenbe found volunteering at other people’s events. Their smiling faces (and Linda’shomemade chili and grilled burgers!) were everpresent. Last spring, I ran theirAuburn Trails race for the third time. It rained all day, and if you think that’stough to run in, you should try standing around at the finishline trying tokeep the timing software dry and grill burgers for a bunch of muddy, stinkyrunners. They were a beautiful sight to see when crossing the line.

The sun finally drops and the temperature swiftly follows. Idon’t mind the cold hands, but I reluctantly turn for home to avoid gettingcaught out in the dark. I never feel like I deal well with death, but then, Isuppose no one does. It’s so … strange.So damn permanent.

The running community lost some very special peopleyesterday. We can only be glad that we knew them, and appreciate how muchbetter off we all are for what they gave us. I guess my way of dealing with thesadness is to share these memories here, with you. If you knew Robert andLinda, or have fond memories from their races, please share in the comments. I’dlove to hear about them.

Robert and Linda taking care of things behind the scenes at the 2008 Rucky Chucky Roundabout.

[Update: A memorial group run has been planned for Saturday, February 25. Meet at the Auburn Overlook Park in Auburn at 9:00 A.M. Details can be found at the event page: https://www.facebook.com/events/247160062023224/ For additional info, contact Jen Dicus - jendicus@msn.com]

When There's no Snow in a Ski Town

2011-12-31T13:25:00.000-08:00

It’s a glum aura hangs around this mountain town. Decemberhas come and gone (okay, almost) withnary a bit of the white stuff. We did not have a white Christmas. Alreadyminimal operations at ski resorts are shrinking even further, kindling afirestorm of layoffs. No one is stoked.

Except for the trail runners.

In stark contrast to last year’s winter where I’d already hadtwo months of backcountry powder glory on my skis by this point, we’re stillrunning high country trails. It does a bit to make up for the fact that manytrails didn’t open up until August last summer.

Is this what it’s like to live somewhere where it doesn’tsnow? I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been in for December.

And what do the ski bums do (besides shed a tear in theirwhiskey over their state of unemployment) when there’s no snow? Well, mountainbiking is the obvious choice, and there’s plenty of that going on. Ice climbingconditions are better than they’ve been in a decade, but that only appeals to aselect group of nut cases. I gave that up when I left Minnesota! You know what’sreally all the rage in the Sierra right now?

Ice skating.

Frozen Echo Lake

Usually by the time it’s cold enough for anything to freeze,it’s all buried under 20 feet of snow. But people have been making the best ofan unusual winter, and the skating is off the hook. I mean, have you seen anyof those pictures of people skating on Tenaya Lake in Yosemite? How can you notwant to skate across that glassy expanse surrounded by massive granite domes? Iam not much of a skater, but to glide across the ice in an empty, beautiful,wilderness is pretty special.

There are four or five good lakes to skate in Truckee rightnow, but those Yosemite pictures I saw online really captured me. I wanted toskate the backcountry.

And who could I get to join me on a trail running/ice skatingDesolation Wilderness adventure in late December? I knew before I asked thatJamie would come along for the ride – that girl is addicted to those trails.

She and Anthony joined me on Friday for a 12 mile run out toLake Aloha, although I was the only goofball with ice skates strapped to my hydrationpack.

Dear GoLite pack, you have passed the test. You're going to Hardrock, baby!

We all agreed that there was less snow than there had beenout on that trail in July, and the amount of running we were able to do waswonderful.

There was still a bit of ice on the trail in places though.

We did hit some snow within about a mile of Aloha, but itwas still incredibly reasonable running.

The skating on Aloha wasn’t quite the Tenaya Lake glory thatI had envisioned. (There is WAY less water up there this time of year.) Althoughthe actual skating in Truckee is better, the novelty of being out there slidingaround on the ice was totally worth bringing the skates. So much fun!

Demonstrating exceptional skating technique.

This entire winter break has been somewhat of a novelty forme. My mileage has been fueled a bit by some anxiety over this 100 mile race I’llbe doing in July, but mostly it’s just been a matter of opportunity. When Ithink about the places I’ve run in the last four days, I can’t help but smile.Four completely different runs, in different weather and conditions. I’m blownaway by the running available right now, and I’m taking advantage of everysingle bit.

Tuesday: Donner Lake, 10 miles on road, starry skies, 11 degrees F

Wednesday: Peavine, 14 miles on dirt, 4,000' vert, partly cloudy, 60 degrees F

Thursday: Desolation Wilderness, 12 miles on technical trail and snow, partly cloudy, 37 degrees F

Friday: Michigan Bluff to the swinging bridge and back, 21 miles on trail, light rain, 46 degrees F

Peavine Mountain - Verdi Trailhead

2011-12-28T22:15:00.000-08:00

Trail: Dirt roads and singletrack, often rocky and loose

Distance: Approximately 14 miles, depending on route, with about 4,000' elevation gain

Difficulty: Challenging

Trailhead: From north Tahoe, take I-80 east. Exit Verdi, and take the main road (hwy 40) for several miles through the town of Verdi. You'll see Peavine on your left. As the road curves back toward the freeway, look for a dirt pull-out on your left.

Season: Year round, with some snow in the winter months

Water: Bring plenty, because once the snow melts, the slopes of Peavine are dry. With no tree cover on much of the mountain, temperatures can be devastatingly hot in the summer and water will be important.

Trail Description: I was looking for some solid vertical gain and descent for my run, and I knew I would find it at Peavine. Jenelle joined in my plan to simply climb up to the summit at 8,200 feet and turn around. There are plenty of options for trails or roads to climb. Since there are no trees and the views are vast, it's easy to stay well-oriented. We weren't sure exactly what route we needed to take to reach the summit, but we weren't too worried about getting lost.

We began climbing immediately, and after a mile or so, our run melted into a well-paced hike. We were both thankful for a last minute decision to run in shorts instead of tights since the temperature felt unseasonably warm.

Depending on your trail choices, the climbs can be quite steep.

Summit shot with the dogs.

Most of the trails are unmarked, so depending how far you plan to go, it's a good idea to pay attention to your surroundings. You may also encounter mountain bikers and other trail users on dirt bikes or quads. Everyone is typically quite polite and will slow down to pass.

The mountain was quiet for us and the views peaceful on the long haul up. We followed a similar route that is part of the Silver State 50 course, and I can tell you that it's much easier without 35 miles already on the legs! Still, it's early season, and this run was a solid workout for me for December.

The run back to the car was more pleasant than I had expected. It's a quad-pounder for sure, and some of the terrain is steep and loose. Somehow though, I felt great. Just wonderful.

Starting 2012 with 31 Days of Adventure

2011-12-27T11:29:00.000-08:00

Author's note: Thanks to everyone who participated in fundraising for Heifer International by commenting on my blog. I took a cue from Nathan and doubled my pledge to $2 per comment and am rounding up to an even $40. It's going to "where most needed" for Heifer. Hooray!

I'm always on the lookout for adventure, as you know. So, when Katie over at Adventure-Inspired posted about 31 Days of Adventure, I didn't even have to finish reading her post before I knew I was on-board.

31 Days of Adventure is a project taking place this January, put on by Amy of Expand Outdoors and Lydia of Wander Lydia. The concept is simple: Each day during the month of January, they'll email you a daily adventure meant to challenge you and make your day just a bit more interesting. I have no idea what these adventures will be, but I can't wait to find out!

I explained the idea behind my blog's title in this post. The concept is essentially exactly what Amy and Lydia have laid out for 31 Days of Adventure. Adventures don't have to be huge in order to enrich our lives. Most of the time, in fact, adventure is all about perspective. Overcoming an unexpected challenge doesn't have to be an aggravating experience if you simply look at it as an adventure.

Here's an example: Last Friday was my last day of teaching school before the winter break. Believe me, it was painful keeping the kids focused that close to Christmas, but vacation was so close I could taste it! (Plus, I kept them busy by giving two tests on Friday. Yes, I am that teacher.) I'm fortunate to have a carpool partner who lives in Truckee and teaches at my same school in Reno. When we got on the freeway Friday morning, the road information sign immediately told us the highway was closed and we should take the next exit. Crap!

I steered us down surface streets toward the far end of town hoping we could take the last freeway entrance and get past the closure while Katie researched the situation on her iPhone. Turned out we wouldn't be able to bypass the closure and a hazmat clean up would keep us trapped in Truckee for several hours. Who would give my students their tests!?

We called a couple friends to discuss our re-route options and decided to take Dog Valley Road - a dirt road that would reunite us with the freeway in the hills west of Reno. It's a summer-only route that neither of us had ever taken, but with the lack of snow and my trusty Subaru, we decided to go for it! It turned our 40 minute drive into a 90 minute adventure through the mountains. Kind of an exciting start to the work day, and definitely a daily adventure. Our principal, who is apparently familiar with Dog Valley Rd., couldn't believe we made it in to work, (but we're dedicated teachers that way).

If you want to get involved with daily adventures in January, just head on over to the website and sign up to get the emails. If you have a website or blog, you can also add it to the list of participating sites.

Happy adventuring!

The Memory Tree and Giving Cows

2011-12-22T15:10:00.000-08:00

In my household, I get accused of being a pack rat. My husband gets accused of being wasteful. It's all a matter of perspective I suppose, but one thing is true for both of us: We each have a shoebox full of various items that hold memories - things that don't really seem to have a place to live, but definitely warrant keeping.

Many of my items look something like this:

See anything familiar in that stash?

Andrew's box is mostly full of ski passes, which, when 11 years worth are laid out in order, show the beautiful passage of time. Like school pictures for grownups.

Last year, in an unusual fit of Christmasy nostalgia, we crafted all our items into ornaments for our tree. A tree full of memories. A new holiday tradition!

For race medals, I cut the ribbons off or tied them into decorative bows, and then added a hook for hanging. Voila:

Marathon PR from a loooooong time ago!

Andrew and I won this race together. And if you don't think canoe races in Northern Minnesota are competative, you haven't spent much time Up North. Apparently winning with a girl on your team was previously unheard of.

Some people like to make funny faces for their ski pass pictures.

Some medals don't require additional ribbons or adornments.

The Memory Tree

Something else we did last year, which officially qualifies as a tradition since this is now year number two, was join Nathan Bransford's Heifer International fundraiser.

Heifer is a great organization! In their own words, “Heifer International is a global nonprofit with a proven solution to ending hunger and poverty in a sustainable way. Heifer helps empower millions of families to lift them out of poverty and hunger to self-reliance through gifts of livestock, seeds, and trees and extensive training, which provide a multiplying source of food and income.”

Last year, we raised enough at Daily Adventures to donate two flocks of chicks!

Here's how it will work: For every comment on this post between now and midnight on Christmas Eve, I'll donate $1 to Heifer International. You can tweet and share to help get more comments. I'd also encourage you to visit Nathan's post and comment over there (His deadline is 6:00 PM Friday.), as well as check out the link list of other writers involved in the fundraiser. (And while you're over at Nathan's, read this post from Monday on "How Art Changes With Us" because it's completely awesome.)

In your comment here, tell me your name, where you're from, and your wish for 2011.

That's it! Thanks for helping to support a great organization. Happy holidays, everyone!

Non-Jogging and the Hardrock 100

2011-12-04T13:52:00.001-08:00

Andrew and I spent our Thanksgiving weekend this year in Portland in the company of good friends, and excessive amounts of excellent food. I made it a point to get out on a few solid runs and was blessed with some great weather. (If it's not raining, Portlanders always walk out the door and declare it to be a beautiful day, even if it's overcast and gloomy. A beautiful perspective requiring many rainy days to cultivate, I'm sure.)

A beautiful day for running in the Columbia River Gorge

I also had the pleasure of joining Russ, Gary, and Carl for a guest stint on their podcast, 3 Non Joggers. I have to admit, it was pretty fun.

If you're interested in listening to some running talk and quite a bit of goofing around, you can take a listen to episode #51 here in iTunes.

And lastly: the Hardrock 100 lottery was today. Oh wow.

I GOT IN!!

It's still kind of sinking in because truthfully, I never expected to get in. I actually had it in the back of my mind that I wanted to take things a bit easier this year after all the intense training for Western States last year.

During my experience pacing Betsy at Hardrock, I kept telling myself the race was insane (And it is!) because even in the midst of it all I could feel my hidden desires to run it. It's like being attracted to the bad boy at school - you know he's trouble, but you just can't stop thinking about him!

I hesitated quite a bit over entering the lottery because I wasn't sure if I was really ready for this race. Then I realized that adventure is about doing things that hold a bit of uncertainty, and let's face it, Hardrock for me is more of an adventure than a race.

Besides, if I waited until I thought I was ready, I'd probably never sign up.

One of my most powerful motivators is fear, and I think it's safe to say that I will have no shortage of motivation for training this winter. The excitement is slowly growing already, and I am certain this will turn out to be the adventure of a lifetime.

Colorado, here I come!

With Olga and Meghan in Silverton last summer.

Planning Ahead

2011-11-20T17:43:00.001-08:00

I have to confess, I have some mixed emotions about all this race planning going on right now. My race planning, that is. I find it almost as exhausting as, you know ... racing!

I actually have a couple of spring races that I've already ponied up the cash for, so I started putting together a training calendar. Part of that process entails penciling in other race possibilities. But you know what's really crowding my calendar space?

Opening registration dates!

With races selling out so quickly these days, runners have to choose races well in advance of their registrations opening, then be sure to sign up right away.

And it's not even just those dates. It's also opening (and closing) lottery dates, plus the dates of the actual lotteries. It's simply way too much to keep track of for a girl who operates strictly on Tahoe Time. It's slightly anxiety-inducing.

Although I still haven't decided about lotteries and races, (Scott has a nice list of upcoming lotteries, if you're wondering what races I'm talking about.) I've discovered that two races I do want to enter open their registration on the exact same day. At the exact same minute. Both races will sell out fairly quickly, although exactly how fast is anyone's guess, and both open their registration at midnight on New Year's Eve.

Really? Is that what most ultrarunners do on New Years? Stay home and hover over their computers at midnight? Or perhaps you all have smart phones, and you just sign up for races while doing shots on the dance floor with the crowd. I don't know. But I'm a little concerned about this situation.

Yes, I'm looking at you, Pocatello and TRT!

On the other hand, I do enjoy dreaming, and planning is part of that process. Scheduling all these things brings some of the same discipline and order to my life that running itself does. It tames just a bit of the chaos.

Seeing a race on the calendar, even if it's still just a possibility, inspires my training. When I'm crawling, cross country, up some steep mountainside, I think about exactly which races that training will benefit. I get excited. I have purpose. I run faster.

I grin with wicked delight.

"Good Things on the Horizon" - A scene from today's long run.

What races and lotteries are on your wish list this year?

Drama and Sport: How High School Football is Like a Good Book.

2011-11-18T11:09:00.001-08:00

I was rolling down Donner Pass Rd. last weekend, justfinishing up some errands, when I had cause to reach out and turn up the volumeon the car radio. Our local station, as is typical for a Saturday in the fall,was broadcasting the high school football game. (Yes, my town really is thatsmall.) What piqued my interest was the tone of voice of the announcers,informing the listeners that the Wolverines had been shut out at halftime. Theyseemed surprised. Almost worried.

I knew the team held a huge winning streak, the largest inthe state, at 34 games. Since this was the playoffs, it had the makings of agood game, and when I pulled in the driveway I asked my husband if he wanted torun down to Truckee High to catch the second half. What we witnessed was one ofthe best sporting events I’ve seen in years.

I’ve long declared that my favorite movie genre is what myhusband calls the “feel good sports movie.” I love the drama of sports. Movieslike Miracle, Invincible, and Remember the Titans (all based on true stories). Nothing makes me cry like a good Cinderella-Story sports movie.

In thinking about this fact after the high school footballgame, I realized the real draw of sports like this to me – they have all themakings of a perfect plot. They’re a story just waiting to unfold. Drama inreal life. Watching a good football game, or any sporting event, is likereading a gripping novel where you really can’t tell what kind of ending it’sgoing to have.

You couldn’t have created better plot structure for a storythan the events that took place on the field at Truckee High that day.

You had conflict: Not only do you have one teamagainst another, but Truckee football had the added pressure of a 34-gamewinning streak spanning 3 years. KCRA TV in Sacramento called them The King of California Football. More than once, the Fallon High School fans inthe visitor’s bleachers took up the chant “Break That Streak!” Not to mention,of course, the winner of this game would advance to the state championshipgame.

There was plenty of rising action: Truckee didn’t geton the board at all in the first half, starting the 3^rd quarter downby a field goal. Tension already. Then, in the second half, the lead changedhands three times. Neither team was ever more than a touchdown away from losingtheir lead. Andrew and I stood at the fence behind the end-zone with other latearrivals, cheering and wailing with every play. We were in solidarity withstrangers with whom we had one thing in common – we wanted our team to win! With every second lost on the clock in that 4^thquarter, the tension grew.

We even had an excellent false climax: Fallon scoredand was up by 3 points with 4 minutes left to play. Truckee took almost thatentire 4 minutes to get the ball back to our end of the field. With less than30 seconds left, they were fourth and goal. A field goal would have tied it up,but they chose to go for it. (Well, we’re a ski town: Go big or go home!) Theysqueaked into the end zone with 8 seconds left on the clock. The crowd wentabsolutely NUTS! I mean, I didn’t even know we had enough people in our town tomake that kind of noise. We picked up a 15 yard penalty for “excessivecelebrating.” I didn’t really think it was excessive, considering.

And of course, the climax: “Well, game’s over, let’sget out of here.” We walked about ten yards before changing our minds. May as wellwatch the last 8 seconds play out. A Fallon player caught the kick-off andsomehow found a hole. He was running. Flying. Streaking for that end zone. Oh.My. God.

I could imagine the radio announcers: “He’s at the 30! The 20! The 10!”

“”No! No! No!” We all screamed. They were at the far end ofthe field, so I couldn’t see what happened, but the crowd’s reaction told all:The Truckee side roared in triumph, while Fallon’s fans let loose with painfulmoans. SO CLOSE!

But guess what? That wasn’t the climax. It was just anotherfalse climax! That is what you call some good rising action. It’s a page-turnerof a story.

There was a penalty called on the play. “A late hit,”another fan told me. I looked at the scoreboard. No time left on the clock. So …did we win?

I don’t know the rules that well, but apparently the penaltycalled for one more play, even though no time remained. You have got to bekidding me!

The players lined up again as we all held our breaths. TheFallon players couldn’t make it happen, and once again Truckee fans roared –nowwith equal parts relief and triumph.

And that, really, was the resolution: Relief,triumph, and looking to the State game this weekend. All the most excitingstories end with the climax, the resolution only a footnote: The End.

Thanks for the drama,Truckee boys. Good luck at State tomorrow!

Final Score

Do you have any favorite sports dramas?

Thy Eternal Summer, Part II

2011-11-07T22:16:00.000-08:00

Winter has arrived. Absolutely and without question. She made her presence abruptly known when, from one weekend to the next, we traded our shorts and tanks on long runs for tights and gloves.

The photographic evidence from Saturday's long run on the Emigrant Trail in Truckee, where it was a speed-inspiring 17 degrees Fahrenheit:

Pre-run Smiles.

The Perfect Amount of Snow

Mid-run Frosty Hair

Sunshine peeks through.

Post-run Happy Glow

I enjoyed last year's summer tribute so much, that I thought I'd make it a tradition. Here's a look back, photo-style, at some beautiful moments of summer:

The Miwok 100K. This was my best race of the season. One of my best races ever. I had fun, felt strong and relaxed, paced myself perfectly, and finished faster than I thought I could. Bliss.


Me and my 5-year-old nephew, as photographed by his 7-year-old brother, during our family gathering in Yosemite. To me, this shot captures a lot of the awesomeness of this annual summertime reunion.

Western States finishline at about 9:30 A.M. Sunday morning, June 26. Eating breakfast and watching runners finish was easily the best part of the race.

Post-Western States high-fives with Brett Rivers before the awards ceremony. The Placer High School track was just a good place to be that Sunday. Good feelings all around, good friends, good community.

Betsy leads me down the trail from Virginus Pass in the last five miles of my crazy-but-awesome experience pacing her at the Hardrock 100.

At the finishline of the TRT 100 with Donald after an awesome 50 miles of pacing.

Andrew and I canoed the Carson River in July. Two days, no portaging, camping at hot springs. Wilderness whitewater love!

Silver-buckle bluegrass boogie with the Dead Winter Carpenters.

Desolation Wilderness. Any photo tour of summer would be incomplete without a shot of our favorite running terrain.

For now, I'm snuggled up by the wood stove looking forward to some snowy backcountry adventures for the next few months. It's a good time to be dreaming and planning races for next spring and summer, and remembering the best of this one.

What were your favorite races and adventures of this summer?

Apology

2011-11-02T21:18:00.000-07:00

In our house, we have what we call the "two shoe rule." That is, we (my husband and I) are each allowed two pairs of shoes on the downstairs shoe rack. The rack, which currently lives in our as-yet-unfinished mudroom, looks like this:

And, as you may have guessed, not a single pair of shoes in that photo belongs to my husband. Further, I count a total of seven pairs of running shoes. Seven! Plus one single.

I'm really not certain how this state came to be. 80% of my mileage can be attributed to only two of those pairs of shoes, and another two pairs I certainly haven't worn for at least six months.

But has anyone called me out on breaking the two shoe rule? Not once. Not even a peep.

In addition, he made creative use of the situation ...

with a X-Talon door stop through the construction zone (accounting for the single on the shoe rack).

There's a whole lot to be said for flexibility in a partner.

So, ... yeah. Sorry, sweetie.

Mt. Tallac Trail, Desolation Wilderness

2011-10-28T16:09:00.000-07:00

Trail: Technical Singletrack

Distance: 22 miles, 6500' elevation gain (trailhead to Lake Aloha and back)

Difficulty: Challenging

Trailhead: The Mt. Tallac trailhead is reached via Highway 89 near South Lake Tahoe. Traveling from the west shore, look fir the brown trailhead sign on the right, just past Camp Richardson. Follow the paved road to the parking area for Mt. Tallac.There are no bathrooms or water available at this trailhead.

Season: July to October

Water: The upper slopes of Mt. Tallac are dry, but otherwise, streams and lakes are abundant throughout the run.

Notes: Wilderness permits are required. There is no fee, and permits can be filled out at the trailhead.

Trail Description: The climbing on this trail doesn't mess around, and we began gaining altitude immediately. I set off on the forested trail with Betsy, Jamie, Caren, Jenelle and three dogs. We were layered up on this crisp fall morning, but soon stopped to shed jackets and sleeves as the exercise and sunshine brought color to our cheeks.

We didn't get into Desolation Wilderness until early August this year because of all the snow, and I think somehow that's given me a greater appreciation for these incredible autumn days on the trail. Every mile before the snow flies feels like a gift.

If you sniff deep into the cracks of the bark, it smells like sweet vanilla. Mmmmm!

As we climbed higher, we finally left treeline behind. Following the switchbacks up, we were treated with expanding views of the lake below.

Upon reaching the shoulder of Mt. Tallac, you can look out to see the granite ridge that rises above Lake Aloha, our eventual destination.

At the spur trail, we headed towards the summit for a quick trip to the top.

Cap is not afraid to stand near the edge.

At the top: Caren, Jamie, Jenelle, me, with Betsy behind the camera.

Tallac is one of the tallest peaks around, and we spent a few minutes enjoying the views and snapping photos. It was surprisingly warm for late October, and we all felt lucky to be out on such a beautiful day.

After returning along the spur trail, we rejoined the main trail and continued down the other side of the mountain toward Gilmore Lake.

Betsy and Caren head down towards Gilmore Lake.

At Gilmore, we joined the Pacific Crest Trail and headed south towards Aloha. Jamie and Caren were doing a one-way run to the Glen Alpine trail, so we soon bid them farewell.

We skirted Susie and Heather lakes, where I decided to skip the final mile to Aloha in lieu of a rest. I hadn't been feeling well all morning, and a mental break seemed like just the thing I needed. Cap and I stretched out in the sunshine by the lake while Betsy and Jenelle ran off to tag Aloha. It seemed I had the entire wilderness to myself, and the stillness in both my body and my environment did wonders to soothe my mind.

The return trip over the mountain was somehow even more glorious. I felt better, stronger. There were more hikers out now that we again neared the trailhead, and they all kindly yielded to us. The downhill felt easy, in spite of the long day, and the miles back to the car seemed to melt away.

We drove back to Truckee, three tired and happy runners.

Tomorrow We Will Run Faster

2011-10-17T23:34:00.000-07:00

"Tomorrow we will run faster -- stretch out our arms farther ..."

- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

It was sometime last winter on a backcountry ski day withAndrew – one of those days with clear blue skies, chest-deep powder, and no onearound but my favorite adventuring partner. In other words: perfect.

I recognized this perfection, this utterhappiness, and breathed it in. Held on to its every passing moment. Not justbecause it was glorious, but because I knew it wouldn’t last.

“When do think was the best time in your life – when youwere happiest for the longest amount of time?” I asked suddenly.

We’d just spent 30 minutes laboriously breaking a fresh skintrack and now stood at the top of a ridge, looking out over a wide, whitelandscape of mountains, preparing for the reward of a beautiful float downthrough the powder.

“I mean,” I felt the need to explain, “it’s just so hard forme to feel content. Satisfied. It’snot that I’m unhappy a lot, it’s just that I always have this feeling ofanxiety that there’s something more I need to do, to achieve.”

I find such beautiful locations, ones that require sucheffort to find, to be the perfect settings for these kinds of soul-digging conversations.

Not long after, I read this post by Nathan Bransford whichstruck such a chord with me that thoughts of it have been marinating in mybrain since reading it seven months ago. Mr. Bransford proposes that writers,by their very nature, are strivers – those not content to simply live, but toalways reach for something more. His writes what has become my favorite recentquote about writing:

“Writing is an act of getting down on your hands and kneesand pushing on the ground and hoping the world spins on a slightly differentaxis. It’s the art of not taking life for granted and trying to make something,anything change.”

This feels so exactly, completely true.

I began to wonder about myself not just as a writer, but asa runner, too. Even after a nearly perfect race, (which is rare) the sense ofsatisfaction never lasts. Always, there is something new to accomplish, somenew goal to occupy ones attention. And this is good because if there wasn’t, wewould never get better. Never run faster, never go farther. This is what movesus forward as runners – this inner need for something more. It’s what makes us improve.

When the mind dwells on a certain topic, it finds thateverything relates. So, it was not surprising that while reading John Steinbeck’sThe Pearl that same week, this quotejumped out at me:

“For it is said that humans are never satisfied, that yougive them one thing and they want something more. And this is said indisparagement, whereas it is one of the greatest talents the species has andone that has made it superior to animals that are satisfied with what theyhave.”

And I began to wonder – is it not just writers, not justrunners? Is it all of us?

I was especially intrigued by the assertion that ourinability to be satisfied is a talent. Again, this is what moves us forward.Think about the great achievers of the world, whomever you see as havingaccomplished big things. They were people who were not content to rest on theglory of their early successes. They always strove for something more.

So perhaps dissatisfaction is a talent. Still, I have to think it’s one besttempered with an attempt at balance and an appreciation for one’s blessings.

Because Mr. Bransford’s post related the idea of striving toThe Great Gatsby, and to F. ScottFitzgerald himself, it came to mind while recently watching John Green’s videoon Gatsby. If you’re familiar withthe book, his is an excellent, and concise, interpretation that is fun towatch.

As I followed the links on the serpentine path of the internetchain, I eventually watched the American Masters episode on Fitzgerald, “Winter Dreams.” It was fascinating! I learned what Mr. Bransford had already asserted – that Fitzgeraldhimself was a striver, like the characters of his stories, someone alwaysreaching for more. And in spite of all this striving, Fitzgerald felt that thegolden moment – what we think we want – can never live up to our dreams. Theimportant thing is the dreaming.

“It was always the becoming he dreamed of, never the being.”–This Side of Paradise

To some extent I think the “becoming” holds more appeal thanthe “being” because real life is much more challenging than our dreams. It’smessier, sometimes uglier, and often more mundane.

In spite of all of this, I think it’s far too easy toglorify the tortured artist, and I don’t think a person has to be unhappy inorder to feel driven. I hope not anyway. Jay Gatsby himself was described ashaving an “extraordinary gift for hope.” Maybe that’s the flipside ofdissatisfaction, the positive spin. From our discontent, hope is born.

I know happiness comes from within. I know this. It comesfrom living deliberately, appreciating the small moments, doing meaningful work, and developingstrong relationships with other people. This is why I could stand at the top ofthat mountain with Andrew and live that happiness so fully, even whileaccepting that it may be short-lived.

I also know that this inner feeling ofneed, the desire for something more, to do something more, can drive a girlnuts if she lets it.

I have a recording of a live U2 concert. At one point in theshow, in order to introduce the next song, Bono declares to the crowd, “I don’tknow about you, but I feel pretty good about the fact that I still haven’tfound what I’m looking for.”

Honestly, I don’t know if I feel good about it. I do knowthat I have an extraordinary hope that I won’t leave this earth without havingaffected, just the tiniest bit, the tilt of its axis.

What do you think? Are humans by their very nature dissatisfied? Could this be a good thing?

I am Severus Snape

2011-10-07T14:33:00.000-07:00

Is this not the best poster ever?

Surprises

2011-10-04T22:14:00.000-07:00

I love surprises.

I mean the good ones, of course. Not the ones your dogleaves you when you were gone all day and he got into the garbage.

Surprises like coming home to a spotlessly clean house aftera long day at work. Like a beautiful mirror purchased at the thrift store, repainted,and hung on the wall while the husband was out of town. Or what about going todrop off two friends in Yosemite for their 3-week John Muir Trail trek anddeciding while there to join them for the entire journey? (For the record, that last onehas never happened to me, but it did happen to someone I know well. Rumor hasit that his wife was infinitely awesome when he called from Tuolumne to say he’dchanged his plans and wouldn’t be home for a few more weeks. She told him to gofor it and have fun. An unexpected response from a spouse can be another goodsurprise.)

Even a fairly benign surprise, like a notoriously unpreparedstudent who turns in all his homework, can be wonderful. A change in theweather, a favorite movie on TV, a really good book – all little tidbits to beappreciated.

This past weekend I was the creator of a pretty darn goodsurprise (if I do say so myself) for my husband. We’ve been married 11 yearsthis month, and I wanted to celebrate. We’d done absolutely nothing for ourten-year, which seemed kind of sad, but I’m not a fan of feeling overlyobligated about these things. I confess, I’m usually terrible when it comes topresents. Christmas, birthdays, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day – I suck at all ofthem, pretty much. Andrew is even worse than I, and at least we can agree that Valentine’sDay should require nothing more than just having dinner together, (usually athome). Birds of a feather, yes.

So this year, when inspiration struck, I didn’t hesitate. Surprisesmake the best gifts, even when there’s no occasion whatsoever. (In this casethough, there was a pretty good one!)

San Gregorio State Beach - Site of an exceptional picnic.

I’ve also recently decided that when you live in a beautifularea, it’s important to get out there and enjoy it even if opportunity only allowsshort trips. And so it was that Andrew and I found our way to the coast for four daysof California beauty and adventure.

Our weekend included a night in the village of Saratoga andentertainment by Emmy Lou Harris at the Mountain Winery. In past years, we’veseen her on this same weekend at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, with many, manymore people in attendance. I hate to think we’re getting too old for the masscrowds in Golden Gate Park for this festival, but if you tell me that we’re just wiser, I won't argue.

BAM! "Garlic Bomb" - best picnic food ever.

Beach art - turtle.

Rufus the Sea Lion, heading back out for some waves.

A couple days on the beach north of Santa Cruz. Surprisinglyperfect weather – sunny and warm, no rain, no fog. Trails through Big BasinRedwoods State Park. Delicious picnics. Long walks on empty beaches. Surfing. Sunbathing,for goodness sake. In northern California!

Long walks, empty beaches.

Coastal Redwoods on the Skyline to Sea Trail.

Perfect ending to a hike.

Do you have any idea how many state parks there are onHighway 1 between Santa Cruz and Half Moon Bay? How many open space preservesalong Skyline Drive?

I love California.

No surprise there. But, still.

This is what's called "luxury camping." Luxury? Yes. Camping? Um, not remotely.

Sunset from the "tent."

I also love surprise weekends that last four days. And I'll tell you a secret - they're best when you're the one planning the surprise.

Feels Like Home: Lake Tahoe Marathon 2011

2011-09-26T23:09:00.000-07:00

Lining up on Commons Beach for the start.

The decision to run the Lake Tahoe Marathon was not as easyas one might think. After all, it’s local, it’s beautiful, and it’s only amarathon for goodness sake!

I put my name down for it in August to give me a littlemotivation and something to look forward to. It worked for a little while, andmy running picked back up a bit. But then school started, and everything felloff the menu but the weekend long run. Long, meandering days through the mountains, thick with wildflowers evenin September, streams running high, a little mud but no more snow. Wonderful!

Just not really the best training for a road marathon.

After winning several races in 2009, including this one, ithasn’t escaped my attention that I’d yet to return to any of them. I wasabsolutely intimidated about showing up as a “former winner,” and doing so inless than top form wasn’t terribly enticing.

So, I could either let mypride get in the way and skip the race, or I could just show up, not worryabout it, and have fun. I have to admit, I’ve missed racing, and even though Ifelt sheepish about my lack of training, I was looking forward to the event. Ilove races for the exciting atmosphere and camaraderie of other runners. And in this case, it's pretty tough to beat the setting.

RD Les Wright introduces Sean as a previous (4 time??) winner. 3 seconds after this shot Sean dragged me up there to get the same treatment.

Look! We're totally matching with our Montrail apparel and orange colors! Do you think Sean knew he had that tag sticking up out of his visor all day?

I received all kinds of words of support heading into therace, which was nice, except that I felt the need to explain to everyone that Iwould be slow. Without exception, they all called me a sandbagger. Yeah, well.I guess I deserve that. Anyway, my predicted finish time for myself was 4hours. Decidedly slower than my 3:34 from two years ago, but still faster thanmy other 3 races here.

I greeted friends on the start, and I actually had to smileand wave to the crowd when Les, the RD, pulled me up front and introduced me asa past winner of both the marathon and the Triple. Oh God! Fortunately, Seanwas there to share some of the spotlight.

Turi is totally ready to rock!

Ichecked in with Turi to see how his ankle was doing. This was his goal race forthe year, and I knew he’d been training hard. A recent injury had sidelined himfor the past two weeks, but I had my fingers crossed that it merely meant he’dgotten in a solid taper.

And we're off!

We headed off from Commons Beach in Tahoe City to the westshore of Lake Tahoe. The course follows the shoreline of the lake most of thetime, and the views are constant. I spent a lot of time taking pictures thisyear. It was a great way to enjoy my surroundings and not think about trying torun fast.

I shared a few early miles with my friend,Helen. We talked running websites until she finally decided she needed to slowdown. I applaud her wise pacing! She went on to hit her goal time perfectly, bythe way.

Helen - blurry but having fun! When I accused her of being geared up like an ultrarunner with her Nathan pack, she owned up to bringing guns to a knife fight. Ultrarunners like to be prepared for anything!

I ran for a while with Crystal from San Diego. When I cameup next to her, she said, “Oh, you’re the past winner!”

Aw, man!

“Yeah,” I admitted ruefully. It did turn out to be a goodforay into conversation though, and I really enjoyed chatting and running withher for a while.

The girl on the left in the pink is Crystal from SD.

Views like this are consistent through the first half of the race.

This woman on the left ended up passing me on the big hill which was kind of a bummer since I consider myself a hill climber. Not so much today.

Little known superhero Endorphine Dude! Powering through day 3 of the triple!

These signs always crack me up. Just in case you weren't sure if it was scenic - the government has now declared it to be so!

Cloudy skies made for perfect temperatures all day.


Hippies at Meeks Bay pass out water.

Peace, love and glittery hair.

I did a relatively decent job of pacing myself I think,running about 9-minute miles early on, picking it up a bit in the middle, andthen slowing it down again on the hills. I didn’t feel nearly as strong on thehills as I would have liked, and the downhills just killed me. The descents onthis course are really the hardest part. They’re steep, and they come late inthe race – one at mile 19, and a good, long one around miles 21 and 22. I wassimply incapable of pushing the pace on them this year.

Starting the downhill into Emerald Bay.

Sugar Pine!

Looking across Emerald Bay at the hill we would soon be climbing.

Standard view of Emerald Bay with Fanette Island and Lake Tahoe.

I love running down the spine of this ridge with lake views on three sides.

Superhero aid station!

Pretty sure they were handing out super powers in those cups.

I did feel good about rallying to an 8:40 pace on the lastthree, flat miles of the race. Without fail, these are always the hardest milesof this race for me, no matter what my pace has been. This year was quitepossibly the best I have ever felt here in the last three miles. Of course,that’s not saying much, but I’ll take it!

The best part about the finish is its location on a sandybeach. I walked into the clear lake water and gave my legs a good, cold soakwhile inhaling the surrounding beauty.

I spent time hanging with friends on the beach,including Helen and Sean, who both had strong races. Turi smashed his PR by Iforget how many minutes, posting a 3:41, and we definitely celebrated that one.YESSSSSSS!!

Turi and I sport our sexy "Top 25" finisher's windshirts.

I recently had a conversation with my friend Charlie whiletrying to choose a spring marathon to run together. She declared a marathon tobe on the list of things she was still too scared not to train for. Apparentlythat doesn’t hold true for me, which is not at all a sign of my toughness, butrather an indication of her superior intelligence.

In the end though, it was another treasured day in thisbeautiful place I call home. I’d tell anyone else that 3:56 is something tofeel proud of on this course, so I guess I have to believe it for myself, too.I won’t lie: I worked hard to squeak out that sub-4. I might have wondered whyI should bother pushing for a time when I knew I’d be so far off my course PR,but I know myself better than that. Once I hear that gun go off, it's tough not to go for it. And it’s been so long since I’ve pushedmyself in any arena. It felt good. Really, really good.


Post-race soaking grounds.

Thanks to Les and his team for another beautiful year at the lake!

Wedding Ring Epilogue

2011-09-13T22:15:00.000-07:00

I met Andrew in the summerof 1998 when we were both trail guides at a camp in the Boundary Waters innorthern Minnesota. Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell you the whole long storyof our meeting, falling in love, and getting married, but the setting to thatstory is important to the one I’m about to tell, so a few details need to beshared.

Camp Menogyn is a solid five and a half hours from the TwinCities, and 30 minutes inland from the north shore of Lake Superior - remoteand beautiful. Reaching its shores requires the campers (and trail guides) topaddle a canoe across West Bearskin Lake. There are no roads into Camp Menogyn.

As guides, we spent our infrequent days off in the tiny townof Grand Marais, out on Lake Superior. It was here, on the rocky coastline of thebig lake, at Artist’s Point, that Andrew proposed to me in 1999. Looking backfrom Artist’s Point, one sees the crest line of the Sawtooth Mountains whichparallel the shore of the lake.

Our wedding rings were made by a jeweler in Grand Marais whobased their design off the surrounding landscape. The edges echo the line ofthe Sawtooths, and in the center the rings were carved into a lakeshorereflecting the surrounding forest – a scene constant in the Boundary Waters.Perfect for two people in love with each other and the outdoors.

Our wedding guests paddled canoes to the shores of WestBearskin, where we said our vows at Camp Menogyn on the first snowfall of theyear in the autumn of 2000.

Some people think married couples wear wedding rings to showour status, like a cab driver with a rooftop sign alit: “Unavailable.” For me, it’sa reminder and a connection. I look down at that ring and feel not just thelove for my husband, but all of our history – beautiful and challenging alike –as well as the place where we fell in love and said our vows. I love thatplace.

So when I lost my ring this past February, I struggled toget over it. I told myself it was just a material object, but the loss stillfelt painful. I ignored Andrew’s every entreaty to replace it. I even scannedthe trail at Miwok where I thought I’d dropped it. I was looking for my ringduring a race!

The post I wrote about that loss received such lovelycomments from you all. Thank you! In particular, I was thinking this summerabout part of what Pam said: “I kept waiting for the Gotcha Moment when youfind that ring. You may one day yet …”

I can’t say I agreed with her. The idea of having a bit ofhope to still find the ring was tempting, but it seemed foolish. And still, hercomment stuck with me.

So, have I given away the end of the story yet?

Early in July I was in a blissful post-race haze afterWestern States. Just beginning my summer vacation, it was likely the best partof my entire year. Friends would arrive that afternoon to celebrate the Julyfourth weekend, and I swept pine needles from the deck to prepare the yard forthe impending celebrations.

You’ll never believe what I found in that mess of pineneedles.

I have never squealed so loudly in such excited disbelief inmy entire life. Not even when I was a teenage girl. By the time Andrew camerunning up the stairs to see what was wrong, tears of joy were alreadystreaming down my face. Yup – cried when I lost it, cried when I found it. I’mkind of a crier.

And although I tried very hard to avoid dwelling on thepotential symbolism of a lost wedding ring, I am quite happy to inject itsrecovery with all manner of meaning. Love endures. Don’t give up hope. Pickyour own cliché – they’re all positive.

The best I can figure, it came off my finger while shovelingthe deck (maybe while removing a glove?), but I simply didn’t notice itsabsence until I was 200 miles away, 24 hours later. And the craziest thing – itstayed on the deck for five months. Five months of excessive, ridiculous amountsof snow which were repeatedly shoveled off inches at a time. How it didn’t getscooped up in a shovel and tossed into the garden I have no idea.

Here’s the cliché I chose to sum up this experience: Life iscrazy, and beautiful, and you never know what might happen. You just neverknow.

Running is a State of Being

2011-09-07T20:37:00.000-07:00

When I’m not training for any particular races, I spend a lotof time on long, meandering walks with the dogs through the forest behind myhouse.

During one of these recent walks, words floated around in myhead, finding their way into phrases, sentences, and even occasionalparagraphs. Most of my writing happens on trail, with only a fraction of it actuallyfinding its way from brain to fingers to keyboard.

A phrase kept arising that finally caused a serious conversationbetween Artistic Writer Me and Grammar Teacher Me.

“I ran slow.”

A fair statement, no? I mean, much of the time I am slow!But you see where Grammar Teacher Me has a problem with this, right?

Run is an action verb. You don’t run slow. You run slowly.

But I can’t gripe about my pace in a race by whining, “Man,I was running so damn slowly!”

Artistic Writer Me asserts: It wasn’t my legs that wereslow; it wasn’t the action of running. It was just me!

I was slow!

And this is just fine, Grammar Teacher Me says, because “tobe” is a linking verb. It expresses a state of being. It names the subject.Me=slow. Therefore, adjectives, not adverbs, are the menu item of choice.

I can be slow, butcan I run slow?

It was then that I recognized this one truth: Running is astate of being. “To run” does not have to be an action verb.

I can run slow or fast. I can run happy, sad, heavy, orlight. Sometimes, I just run. It's me being who I am.

And I felt quit triumphant at finding a conclusion thatsatisfied both Me’s.

Donner Lake Rim Trail - PCT Loop

2011-09-05T20:07:00.000-07:00

Trail: 75% Technical singletrack, 25% dirt road.

Distance: 28 1/2 miles (partial loop)

Difficulty: Challenging

Trailhead: This "loop" requires a short shuttle, so you'll want to leave a car at the finish. From I-80, exit Donner Pass Rd. in Truckee. For westbound traffic, turn left across the freeway and left at the blinking light. For eastbound traffic, go straight through the blinking light. Park on Coldstream Rd. near the 76 station and the Truckee Donner Lodge.

To reach the Teton Way trailhead in Tahoe Donner to start the run, head east on Donner Pass Rd., then turn left on Northwoods Blvd. Turn left at the blinking light (Northwoods) and left again on Ski Slope Way. Look for the trailhead on your left after you cross under the power lines.

You can download a map of the roads and trails in Tahoe Donner here.

Season: July to October

Water: In early season, there are creeks along the DLRT and always at Summit Lake (~mile 9). There is typically little or no water on the PCT. In summer (mid-June through late August) you may be able to fill up from the spigot at the Sugar Bowl Academy on Donner Summit (mile 16). There are creeks along the Coldstream Trail (~mile 24 to 26) all season.

Notes: If you want a more scenic finish than Coldstream Canyon and don't mind a slightly longer shuttle, leave a car parked at Squaw Valley (behind OVI and next to the fire station) and skip the Coldstream trail. Continue past Tinker's on the PCT and drop down on the Granite Chief Trail for 3 miles into Squaw.

Looking out at Anderson Ridge and Tinker's Knob, 2 miles into my run.

Trail Description:

I ran this route as a loop, since I am lucky enough to live in the forested area between the two trailheads. By connecting three miles of unofficial trail and about two miles of pavement, I got in 33 miles right out my door.

Running through Tahoe Donner from the Teton Way trailhead, I kept my eye on the map at the well-marked trail junctures. When I hit the Donner Lake Rim Trail on Donner Ridge, I dropped down into Negro Canyon toward Castle Peak.


Looking down into Negro Canyon from Donner Ridge with Castle Peak in the background.

On this Monday in August, the DLRT was blissfully deserted. I had it all to myself.

Water can be had at several streams through Negro Canyon, but most are usually dry by late July. (This year was quite an exception!)

The next water source is Summit Lake, about nine miles in from Teton Way.

Summit Lake

After the rocky, exposed granite near Summit Lake, the path again becomes forested. Upon reaching the trail junction with Warren Lake, I headed south on the PCT (the opposite direction from Warren Lake).

In less than two miles, I crossed under I-80 via two easy tunnels.

Running under semi's!

I had taken this day as a solo effort because my weekend was full, and no one could join me on a Monday. I couldn't recall the last time I had done a long run by myself, and it seemed a beautiful way to celebrate summer's near end.

There was a time when I did all on my training alone because I simply didn't know anyone who wanted to run so far. Now I am blessed with many wonderful training partners, and I feel truly lucky. But it was nice, on this day, to remember the girl who always used to be alone, and to revel in the joy that I still find in my wilderness solitude. I know and love these trails. I feel safe here. And even though 33 miles was a tall order for me on this day, I had not a shred of concern that I wouldn't make it.

Looking back at Castle Peak from near Donner Summit.

Donner Lake and Old Hwy 40 at Donner Summit.

After crossing Old 40, I stopped at the Sugar Bowl Academy to refill my water from their spigot, located on the east side of the parking lot. This is fine during summer months, when school is not in session, but be respectful at other times and stay off campus.

I followed the road behind to school to where the trail again resumed it's rocky, singletrack personality. Here, the trail climbs up Mt. Judah through the Sugar Bowl ski area.

This trail can be quite crowded on summer weekends, but I saw only a handful of people.

Climbing over the shoulder of Mt. Lincoln, I looked across Anderson Ridge to see my destination, Tinker's Knob, where I would leave the PCT.

Anderson Ridge

Looking toward the back side of Squaw.

The wildflowers, still thick along the trail, were a testament to the big winter and late summer!

At Anderson Peak, I took a short detour on a side trail to the Benson Hut. This Sierra Club hut is a great ski touring destination in winter!

The Benson Hut

Tinker's Knob, viewed from Anderson Peak.

The trail around Anderson and Tinker's is quite rocky!

At Tinker's, I left the PCT to follow the Coldstream Trail back down to Truckee.

A quick glimpse of Tahoe before leaving the ridge.

The Coldstream Trail was a new one for me, and I was pleasantly surprised at its beauty. It was clearly little-used, but the singletrack followed the spine of a ridge with excellent views for the first three miles.

Soon, I was down in the canyon and back into familiar territory near the Lost Trail Lodge.

The Coldstream Trail

The Lost Trail Lodge

Crossing over the tracks at horseshoe bend, I knew I was almost home.

The last few miles were a slog, as I knew they would be. That's what happens when you run all your miles for the week in a single day. I'd taken it quite easy and enjoyed myself immensely, but was definitely pushing the limits of my fitness.

The last two miles were on hot, flat, hardpacked, dirt road. I let myself take walking breaks because, what the heck. Why not?

Self-portrait on Coldstream Road

Tahoe Rim Trail Endurance Run 2011

2011-08-25T11:32:00.000-07:00

Sunrise over Spooner Lake

I stood in the early morning darkness wrapped in a down jacket and smiling at friends. A small crowd sporting running shorts and arm warmers, accessorized with a variety of hydration packs and the occasional pair of trekking poles, gathered under the pines. The casual milling-about of the runners belied the enormity of the task they were about to begin. In what has become something of a tradition for mid-July, I stood at the start line of the Tahoe Rim Trail Endurance Runs. In contrast to the previous four years, however, I would not race this day.

It is no understatement to say that this race holds a special place in my heart, having been the setting for my first ultra, my first 100, and countless training miles. And although I’d already had my own big race weighing on my mind when TRT registration opened back in January, it still felt strange not to sign up for this race. It felt just a teeny, tiny bit sad.

Now, at the start of the 100 Mile, I felt anything but sad. Later in the day I would be at this exact spot to pace my good friend Donald through the second half of his race. Standing next to me, chatting with fellow racers, he looked perfectly at ease. I was excited for him!

Pre-race with Donald. Read his race report here!

Being present at the start was a bit of indulgence on my part: Donald didn’t need me here, and I’d already been offered a ride later in the day so I could have chosen to sleep in. Considering that I would be up all night pacing, it would have been the prudent choice. No one has ever really called me practical though, and I just couldn’t resist being a part of the magic on the start line.

The runners headed off into the darkness, kicking up a small dust storm in their wake. I cheered them on, mentally wished them well, and immediately turned to welcome friends who had already arrived to race the 50 Mile and 50K races that started an hour later.

Clare and Scott, ready to take on the 50M!

Tim, John, Annie and Katie show the joy and dedication of the TRT family by taking on a day full of various racing, pacing, and volunteer duties.

Julie and Betsy stay warm before the 50K.

After a relaxing morning, I spent time socializing at the Diamond Peak aid station. Familiar faces presided, both as spectators and racers, and I cheered friends through the aid station.

A woman on a mission: Jen Benna shows how it's done, leaving Diamond Peak. Read her beautiful and inspiring race report here.

50 mile runner Paul Sweeny.

Jenny Capel is relaxed and casual in the 50 mile race.

Donald came through in good spirits, stating that he felt good and thought he had started conservatively – both good things at mile 30!

Amy is all smiles with only 20 miles to go.

Jamie Frink heads off to the nasty hill at Diamond Peak.

Jack, Chet, and Steve, fueling up and swapping stories at Diamond Peak.

I returned to the start/finish area in plenty of time to see finishers in the 50K and 50 mile events while I waited for Donald to show up. The standard ultra fare had me smiling: Some folks looked great, while others were puking repeatedly. Some 100 milers were hanging out at the aid station hoping to settle unhappy stomachs while 50K finishers sat nearby draining the keg of Sierra. I only had a teeny tiny beer with Betsy while I waited for Donald. I promise!

Sarah and Tom, ready to head out for Tom's second lap.

Mark Tanaka assured me that since he is a doctor, it was okay for him to pop some ibuprofen at mile 50.

Hanging out with Tina while we wait for our pacing duties to begin.

Badass 50M finishers Jenny and Jamie.

When you’re waiting to start pacing someone in a 100 miler there is always a certain amount of anxiety: Did I get here in time? Did my runner come through already? Did I miss him while I was in the outhouse?

None of those things happened of course, but even though I was there early, I immediately checked with the aid station to make sure he hadn’t already been through.

Then when your runner’s expected arrival time comes and goes, there’s further anxiety: What happened? Is he okay? Did he get hurt or lost? Did he come through and I didn't see him?

I knew this was all paranoia on my part, especially since his “expected arrival time” was my own ball-park estimate. Sure enough, he showed up shortly, intact and ready to hammer out the remaining 50 miles.

It occurred to me at some point during my waiting that I was not the least bit worried about running 50 miles through the dark on rugged mountain trails. Considering that 30 miles at Hardrock had completely kicked my butt the week before, this seemed a bit surprising. However, I recognized that I had several things going for me on this particular evening, such as: A) I had an additional week of recovery from Western States, B) I would be running on terrain I was comfortable with and knew very well, and C) … Well, see point “B” again. I love this course!

Truthfully, I couldn’t have asked for a better pacing experience. The night was filled with friends at aid stations, perfume from wildflowers, moonlight on snow, sunrise views over Lake Tahoe, chilly winds, and warm fires. Donald handled himself beautifully over a beast of a course, and I felt like I just got to sit back and smile at the whole experience.

I had geared up with arm sleeves, my Icebreaker wool top, Houdini windbreaker, hat and gloves, but the night air still felt frigid – much colder than it had been at either of my own races at the TRT 100. At one point I saw a runner heading towards us dressed in a down jacket, and I did not think it totally unreasonable! I was glad I had dressed warmly, but I would have been even happier with a pair of tights instead of my shorts. I worried about Donald at first, with only a light windbreaker and gloves to add to his shorts and t-shirt, but he seemed to manage just fine, as he did with everything that night.

We both had just a bit of trouble tearing ourselves away from the fire at Diamond Peak, especially knowing what we were about to face. Two miles straight up the ski run, and Donald kept a pace I could barely hang on to. The only reason I managed to keep up was pure pride: I couldn’t let a guy with 80 miles on his legs kick my butt!

Darkness gave way to morning on the return trip, transforming the surrounding landscape. From moonglow, to first light, to full sun, the ever changing palette of colors captivated me.

Watching Donald come across the finish line, and spending a few minutes afterward with other racers and volunteers, was more gratifying than I would have expected. I hadn't run a hundred miles, but I'd been there to witness a good friend accomplish something pretty tough. Maybe it's because I have run this 100 twice before that I felt a taste of that mix of emotions that comes with finishing it. That, along with the immense pride I felt for my friend, had me glowing almost as much as if I'd run the race myself.

Following up my goal race at Western States with two wonderful pacing experiences was a great way to head into summer. In fact, I realized pacing is something I’d like to do more of, especially when I’m not feeling the itch to race myself. I didn’t experience any post-race depression after States, even though there had been a huge mental buildup, and I think that’s largely due to the fact that I had support roles at Hardrock and TRT on the calendar. It wasn’t until after TRT was over that I began to wonder what to do with myself for the rest of the summer.

Every time I pace someone I come away with new lessons. From Paige I learned about pacing, from Jamie about speed, and from Betsy about pure grit and toughness. Donald, he taught me about focus. There were times when he wasn’t feeling well. His stomach bothered him. He had a monster hill to climb. It was freezing cold and windy. He had to negotiate snowy slopes. But he never got down, never stopped moving forward, never lingered at aid stations, never lost focus. Even in the last ten miles, when things were at their very hardest, he seemed only to become more determined.

A brilliant example of what it takes to run a hundred miles.

Trail running for me is a journey of the heart and mind, even more so than the body, and getting to share in someone else’s 100 mile experience is a joy and a privilege. Adding pacing to my list of experiences at TRT was an excellent decision! I feel certain I'll always come back to this race in some form or another. (Next year I'm thinking about running the 50M.) Whether I'm pushing myself, or supporting others to do the same, TRT is one of the best, friendliest, and most beautiful places to do it.