To be in Point Reyes

I can’t recall if I’ve always been one of those people who enjoys doing things by herself. There may have been a time when showing up alone, with no friends for security, was a bit daunting, but if that was ever true, it’s a time that has long passed. So when a number of opportunities coalesced—a beautiful location, some favorite music, and a chance for a long trail run in new territory—I knew it was time for a little solo road trip to the coast.

Actually, if I’m being honest, this trip was anything but a solo venture. First off, I took the dogs with me. That may not sound like much, but there’s something very reassuring about having two adoring and sometimes even obedient companions with you. Secondly, there were friends with whom to meet up at every turn. But, the fact remains, I was under no obligations to anyone but myself. That’s the beauty of going it alone. The path was mine to choose.

So, Mother’s Day weekend, I packed a bag full of running gear, a cooler full of picnic fixings, and two crazy dogs into the car and drove out to Pt. Reyes. There, I would stay with my good friend Heidi (who was unfortunately working all weekend), go for a long run, and meet up with some friends for music and food.

Saturday morning I woke up early and hit the trails. My chosen route had me running 32 miles along the Bolinas Ridge trail from Sir Francis Drake Blvd., almost all the way to Bolinas Fairfax Rd., where I cut west along a series of trails to hook up with the Coastal Trail, and return to my start at the Bear Valley Visitor’s Center.



Along Bolinas Ridge, the fog gave way to an expanse of rolling green hillsides. Although devoid of people, I did share the trail with a number of other companions.



I think of cows as such peaceful creatures, happily munching away on grass here in this heavenly setting. But when you get right up close to them, they're rather ... well, large. Apparently mountain girl doesn't translate well to cowgirl because it made me distinctly nervous that I had to shoo them from the trail. They only put up a few moos of protest before moving along though.



Soon the open ridge gave way to forested trail with an iris-coated floor.



Connecting Bolinas Ridge to the Coastal Trail was a beautiful stretch of little-used corridors. Unfortunately, much of the overgrowth was poison oak and stinging nettle, but that just added to the adventure.



Eventually I found my way out to the coast, and breathlessly beautiful singletrack. I couldn't figure out where all the people were on this sunshine-y day in May, but it felt as though I had it all to myself. And people say California is crowded!

I don’t know when it happened, but sometime during this training season I became one of those people for whom anything less than 30 miles isn’t long enough to actually constitute a long run. It’s unfathomable, really. I always thought 24 was my limit for a solo venture of this sort. And in the past, it was; but no longer. This particular 32 was so beautiful, filled with both peace and sublime adventure. It was almost over too fast.



I made it back to Heidi’s early in the day, and spent the afternoon playing with the dogs and appreciating the utter absence of my To-Do List.

Then, I promise I iced my ankle. I was being good, right? But then I was bad. Remember that little girl? The one with the curl? Just think how horrid she would have been if she’d had not one little curl, but a whole mop full. Because that was me. Instead of doing something responsible after my long run like taking an ice bath, I got in the hot tub on Heidi’s back deck and had a glass of wine. I watched the chickens cluck in the garden, and the cows grazing on the hillside, and I felt quite guiltless about sipping my drink and slinking down into the steaming water.

To top the day off, I joined some friends, who’d made even longer journeys than I, to see some of our favorite musicians perform at the Pt. Reyes Community Center. My friend Chris once told me that the best recovery from an ultra was to dance late into the night, shaking the kinks out and preventing the soreness. I found out he was exactly right.




Sunday, Mother’s Day, held a peaceful recovery run/walk with just me and the dogs on Limintour Beach. I haven’t seen Gus, the 9-year-old husky mix, act like such a puppy in years. The dogs’ sheer joy at chasing each other through the powdery-soft sand kept me smiling all morning.



A community picnic and kickball game is an excellent way to spend an afternoon at the coast. These friends have some kicks, and I got mine just being a part of it. Talk about good fun! When was the last time you walked up to home plate with your kickball shoes on?

And of course, the afternoon and evening met over another parade of songs. Live music soothes the soul. It reaches out with a caress and makes you feel like everything is as it should be. Like it’s going to be okay.

I got to chat with one of my favorite Bay Area musicians, Nicki Bluhm. It’s a bit thrilling to meet someone whom you’ve always seen as a rock star, and then somehow reassuring when she turns out to be kind, friendly and quite down to Earth.


A short nap on the lawn was in order before a final installment of music.



I made my departure early to tackle the long drive home before the drowsiness crept in. Cap and Gus curled up in the back, proving themselves once again to be perfect traveling companions.

Some days I find myself exhausted just trying to calm my restless heart. Running is many things to me, and among the most valued lately, it is something to gather and quiet the fragments of my mind. Weekends such as these—with their varying layers of movement and sound, peace and beauty, independence and community—do much to gladden the heart.

Vertical Athletics - Superstar Top Review

Author's Note: If you're looking for high-performance base layers, but you don't fall into the "tall" category (or even if you do!), you'll want to check out my Icebreaker review, recently posted over at the Wilderness Running Company. Check it out here!



The moment I saw the Vertical Athletics booth across the room at the Lake Tahoe Marathon Expo, I was drawn like a magnet towards the sign that read, “For Women 5’8” and Above, and Men 6’2” and Above.” Running clothes for tall people? I was in love before I even saw what they had to offer.

To be honest, I don’t consider my five feet, ten inches to be unusually tall. Yes, I’m tall, but I’m not that tall! Nonetheless, my biggest complaint about most clothes, and athletic clothes especially, is the length. I’m always sizing up to large tops when they are long-sleeved, and I am definitely not a size large. I just can’t stand sleeves that don’t come all the way down over my wrists, or shirts that allow cold air to tickle my belly while running.

So when I found myself fingering all the clothes at the Vertical Athletics booth, I was in heaven. Finally, someone made clothes to fit me!

Vertical Athletics was started by volleyball player and renaissance woman Renee Krieg, who found herself with my same fit challenges and decided to do something about it. She designed Vertical Athletics clothing specifically to meet the needs of tall athletes. The garments aren’t just longer, they are specifically designed for tall, athletic men and women with appropriate knee, elbow and waist placements.

When I spoke to Renee at the LTM Expo, she told me that she was 5’11” and she sized herself as a medium when designing the clothing line. I tried on both a small and a medium in the Superstar Top, and ended up going with the small. You will definitely have to reconsider your usual size when shopping at VA! Fortunately their website has a helpful size chart. The pictures with each product also tell you the height of the model and the size he or she is wearing, so you have some idea of what a size medium looks like on a woman who is 6’1” (or whatever the size-height combination is).

Before the Kokonee Salmon Trail Run in the Superstar Top. (Not the best shot to show the top, I know, but I hate the modeling poses!) I'm on the far left with the pigtails and the red top. See how it has plenty of length in the waist and the sleeve comes down over the top of my hand? I love that!

In addition to creating high performance clothing, one of VA’s goals is to have as little impact on the environment as possible. Many of their garments use Cocona fabrics, which are made from coconut shells and offer excellent moisture and odor management. (I have a number of shirts made with Cocona, and I really like them.) Other environmentally-friendly fabrics offered by VA include Eco-P.E.T. Tech Fleece and Organic cotton.

The Superstar Top, which I happily purchased at the LTM, is your basic, high-performance, long-sleeved running top. I could have chosen a medium, but I prefer more of a slim-fit. Even in a size small, I had plenty of room in both the torso and sleeves. It’s made of Eco-Drytech with Cocona fibers, and it performed beautifully for me all winter, both as a stand-alone top, and as a base layer under a jacket. It dries quickly and resists odors. I made sure to keep it out of the dryer to avoid shrinking, and it has maintained its fit perfectly.

The Superstar Improved Top

Currently, the Superstar Top is on sale at VA, but with limited sizes. The top has been redesigned as the Superstar Improved, with a lighter-weight fabric and slightly lower neckline, and you can find a full selection of size and color choices in this one. If you’re looking for a great, all-around workout top, I think this is the one to get! VA also offers a colorful array of popular headbands, as well as short and long-sleeved tops and pants for both men and women.

Post-LTM in the Superstar Top

Renee’s own story is enough to make the company intriguing. A competitive volleyball player, she was also a platoon Sargent in the Army, as well as a top sales consultant for both Mary Kay Cosmetics, and Pre-Paid Legal Services. She then studied Apparel Manufacturing at the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising in LA. From there, she designed and launched her own clothing company, Vertical Athletics. I can only imagine that with such a diverse array of experience, talent and hard work behind it, Vertical Athletics is destined for success. I hope so, because I can’t wait to see what new, beautiful clothes they come out with!

Spring Tease

Some people say that in springtime, Mother Nature is a fickle friend. Sunshine one day, snow the next. Her manic-depressive tendencies drive some people nuts. Is it ski season, or should we be going mountain biking? The answer to both of those, of course, is "yes."

I love spring for these reasons. Whatever your pleasure, it's there: backcountry skiing, trail running, mountain biking, boating.

Nothing brings appreciation of the outdoors like a change in seasons. You need the "bad" days in order to truly feel the love on the good ones.

For instance, after a beautiful, sunshiny weekend on the coast last week, Monday afternoon elicited this view from my kitchen window:

While four days later, on Friday morning's dog walk, I found this in my yard:

Beautiful little grape hyacinths poking up through the pine needles.

Mother nature isn't fickle. She's just a tease. And when she brings that summer sunshine to stay, it will be good. So good.

Author's note: I'd also like to take this moment to give a huge shout out of congratulations to my friend and training partner Jamie Frink for winning the Bishop High Sierra 100K with a new women's course record of 13:02. This is especially impressive given the course conditions which reportedly had several miles of snow. Awesome job, Jamie!!

Endurance and Enlightenment

This morning's NPR show, my standard entertainment on the daily Truckee-to-Reno adventure, acquainted me with a Japanese Buddhist monk named Endo Mitsunaga. It turns out that I have more in common with Buddhist monks than I would have ever thought, (especially considering my recent post on indulgence).

Mitsunaga completed the Sennichi Kaihogyo, 1,000 days of walking meditation, by walking 26 miles each day. He insists that it's "really not that hard."

One thing he learned during his experience: "'Everybody thinks they're living on their own without help from others,' Mitsunaga says. 'This is not possible. I really think that others have done something for me, and I have a feeling of gratefulness for other people.'"

You can read (or hear) the complete story here.

In other news, today on her advice column, fabulous author/editor/blogger Victoria Mixon responded to my question. If you read my post on discipline, you won't be too surprised to hear what I asked. I love what this woman has to say about writing, and today's post is no exception.

Additionally, if I can manage to edit and respond to a stack of reports on the Scientific Revolution and a stack of short stories in the next day and a half (I've really got to start assigning less homework!) then I also have a few upcoming posts. One is a gear review on a company I love. And my weekend! Oh, you have to hear about my amazing weekend in Marin: running, dancing, live music, kickball, picnicking, and a long beach walk with the dogs. Hmmm. I love California.

Indulgence

There are infinite reasons for being a runner. I would never say that indulging oneself is at the top of that list.

However.

Indulgences are sinful acts, and running long distances certainly helps neutralize some of the guilt they would otherwise induce.

For instance, I am, at this very moment, indulging in a glass of red wine. After 38 miles of trail-running awesomeness today, it feels more earned than excessive.

I love red wine. I also love running.

Here are some other things that I love. Things that being a runner allows me to love even more because I can indulge guilt-free.

Banana-Stuffed Wontons from the Dragonfly in Truckee. They have amazing sushi, and desserts to match. They also have brilliant local's specials.

Sorry, the picture was taken after we'd already begun eating, (We couldn't wait!), but the plate consists of banana stuffed wontons, coconut ice cream, and chocolate for dipping. Can you say "yum!"?

Post-scarfing. It's all I can do to refrain from picking up the little thing of chocolate syrup and drinking it.

Belt-Room Bloody. This is a brilliant spring-skiing treat. I don't even like Bloody Mary's, but one of these from the bar at Sugar Bowl will make you an amazing skier. Two will put an end to your ski day. (But you won't mind.)

Starbucks Strawberries 'n Cream. Say what you want to about Starbucks, but they have excellent coffee, and these sweet babies have become my favorite recovery drink on a hot day. Gu Brew? Forget it! I'll take artificially-flavored strawberry syrup, milk and ice, blended together and topped with whipped cream, thank you very much.

The list could go on. (And on, and on, and on ...)

What about you? What's your favorite indulgence that's made even sweeter by the guilt-eraser of long distance running?

Sometimes

Sometimes a gnarly storm blows in, and you lay awake all night listening to it whip through the forest.

Sometimes, you see a full span, crystal-clear rainbow on your morning commute.

Sometimes, it takes twice as long to get to work because power is out and the street is closed, but you sneak your way in through business parking lots only to arrive and find the playground riddled with tree branches and devoid of students.

Sometimes school gets canceled, and you get to go home.

Sometimes, you get a day off with your husband, with whom you haven’t shared a day off in weeks. You go out to lunch together in your small town, currently empty of tourists, window shop, and walk the dogs in the rain.

Sometimes you take a nap together in the middle of the day, soaking in the sound of the rain on the rooftop, and remember how when you first met you used to do the exact same thing, in a different cabin in a different forest, and you pretend, for a moment, that you are 23 again with no responsibilities.

And maybe, just maybe, God sometimes looks down and notices that your soul is tired, that you’re brought to tears in small moments, and that your measured, above-the-water breathing is occasionally punctuated with wide-eyed seconds beneath the surface.

Sometimes, rarely, you’re gifted a few extra hours with the one you love, hours in which you can breathe deeply and feel blessed. And in those moments, the feel of the gratitude bubbling forth is as powerful as the time itself.

circa 1998

Leona Divide 50 Mile Run 2010

The first thing you need to know about the Leona Divide 50 Miler is that it takes place in Southern California. Having grown up in that half of the state, it didn’t occur to me that such a location would hold any real significance. But location is always significant, and I guess that’s why people flock to the land of sunshine. Leona Divide delivered all the things you might expect from a classic SoCal mountain event.

The race takes place on the northern edges of the San Gabriels, where the mountains meet the desert. I’d read race reports from former winners Krissy Moehl and Devon Crosby-Helms, so when the opportunity arose to run the race myself, I was excited by the chance.

I arrived early on Friday to visit the poppy fields of Antelope Valley, and here’s where I had the first of many “SoCal is beautiful” moments. If you travel to Leona and don’t make time for the poppies, then you really need to think about rearranging your priorities. I would never have believed the intensity of color if I hadn’t been there myself.

My Aunt, who was playing hostess for the weekend, gave me a tour of the poppy fields. It was breathtaking. I kept imagining how amazing it would be to go on a run through these fields. Truly, heaven.

The race started at 6:00 am at the Lake Hughes Community Center, and it wasn’t until I looked around and saw runners sporting headlamps that I realized that the sun rises later this far south. Crap! Fortunately, by the time we were all gathered on the bridge, the sun was just emitting a glow beneath the blanket of the eastern horizon. It appeared I wouldn’t trip and kill myself in mile-one after all!

Kelly, Olga and I wait for the start.

The first 8.5 miles to aid station #1 were all on a fire road, and a good deal of it was uphill. After much studying of the map and elevation profile in the preceding days, I made a blind guess for myself of a 10 hour finish time. The elevation gain was similar to that of the old TRT course, which would make that a pretty ambitious goal, but based on past Leona results, this was clearly a faster course. I couldn’t figure out why this should be, aside from the lower elevation. After the first two hours, I learned exactly why: The trails of Leona are smooth, with easy footing, and the hills are mostly gradual, allowing much more running than I would have expected. It’s a deceptively fast course for a run on the PCT with 9,000 feet of elevation gain.

As the sun came up, I fell in with two other runners, Mike and Greg, and we climbed contentedly through the chaparral and scrub oak together. As usual in these kinds of situations, good company and conversation made the miles fly, and there looked to be nothing but a perfect day ahead. When the topic veered toward things like “the difference between the words further and farther,” and “correct usage of lie vs. lay,” I knew I was running with the right crowd. We vied for the title of biggest nerd, but as it turns out, Greg is a writer and teacher of the craft, and Mike is a research scientist at Cal State LA, so we were more or less deadlocked on that competition (although, I’m pretty sure Greg’s surfer-boy haircut keeps him out of the running, officially speaking).

Greg and Mike make the turn onto the PCT.

Mike and I take the hills easy. (Photo by Greg Hardesty)

Both men declared their interest in about a 10 hour finish, so I had hopes that we could run together through the day. As the trail evolved into a moderately downhill singletrack, Mike explained the intricacies of his research in proteins and manipulating amino acids. It was fascinating stuff, which I would explain to you here, but it’s top secret, (either that, or I’m incapable of explaining it accurately, but I’m pretty sure he said it was top secret).

After passing through AS#1 at different rates, Greg, Mike and I managed to re-group fairly quickly, and our posse continued on. I wondered if perhaps I was running too fast, as I’m often prone to do when I decide I want to stick with someone. I felt relaxed though, and I knew I would just have to take the day as it came, without stressing. I lost them after another break at AS#3, and wasn’t sure if they were ahead or behind. There was a solid climb out of the aid station, and I finally quit looking up and down the trail and simply settled in, focused on my uphill power-hike. Goodbye, boys, wherever you are. I hope your races go well!

Greg, Mike and the beautiful vistas of the Leona Divide.

This stretch of the course was an out and back to mile 32ish, and most of it was single track. I didn’t have any of the aid stations or any predicted splits written on my bottle since I had no real goal other than to get in some good training, and not further my injury. The aid stations were numbered, not named, so I’d figured even when I’m tired I can count to ten, right? Heh. I forgot about tracking mileage though, and I was essentially guessing about my mileage all day. How far had I run? I had no idea. I could have asked at the aid stations, but that seemed like cheating. This was all part of my laid back, SoCal mindset, right? No knowledge of miles meant no knowledge of pace, and that was just fine. I actually enjoyed not knowing, and I ran with my intended game plan of basing my pace on feel. I’m beginning to think this is the approach that works best for me.

There were a number of aid stations on this out and back stretch that we would also pass through on the return trip. I was grazing on strawberries and jelly beans at one of them when I said something (which, I’m sure, was terribly witty) to the volunteers behind the table. I looked up to see one of them smiling at me, and I just about passed out. This was certainly the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. I mean, I didn’t even realize they made human beings this attractive in real life. I began to think the instability of my legs had nothing to do with the day’s mileage, and I quickly looked away so I could gather my wits and get out of there. (As a side note to all race directors, you really shouldn’t have such good looking people at your aid stations; it’s quite challenging to run 50 miles and deal with surprise swooning!)

As I scampered quickly away, it occurred to me that most of the volunteers at this race were particularly attractive (though none came close to the grinning man at the strawberry table). I had noticed at check-in on Friday that everyone seemed so chic for a group of ultrarunners. At some point through this stretch we also hit an aid station with a 70’s theme, and this was when my theory was proven beyond debate. Even with afro-type wigs and ugly sunglasses, these guys and gals were nothing short of sexy. And I began to wonder – are all ultras in Southern California like this? It seems like such a stereotype, but is this place just teeming with beautiful people? I don’t know, but I’m thinking the matter certainly warrants some further investigation (in the form of more ultras down South, of course).

Jimmy Dean Freeman and his super 70's harem. It was thoroughly awesome to be greeted by this enthusiastic crew!

I was about 2 ½ miles from the turn-around when I saw Michelle Barton hauling ass toward me, not surprisingly with a commanding lead in the women’s race. I then embarked upon a long downhill on a dirt road in the slightly-too-warm-for-the-Tahoe-girl heat. With the opportunity to cheer the runners coming toward me,it might have been an enjoyable downhill if I hadn’t known that I would have to retrace every step back up.

When I was about 5-10 minutes from the aid station turn-around, I finally saw the rest of the women. Three women, including Kelly, were running close together and looking good. We cheered each other briefly, and I headed toward AS#6 at the bottom of the hill.

The day was starting to heat up, and I had a long, shadeless climb ahead of me. The volunteers were awesome, packing my bottles with ice, and handing me cups of icy liquid even though I’d requested nothing. I hated to waste the ice left in my cup, so I decided to take it with me on the climb by stashing it (sans cup) into the front of my sports bra. So cold, but so good! One helpful volunteer (who shall remain nameless) kindly offered to retrieve my “lost” ice for me. Gosh those guys are so darn nice! I had to laugh. Luckily it wasn’t the hottie from the earlier aid station, or I may have found myself accidentally saying yes, I need your help! Get that ice for me, would you?

As it turned out, the return trip wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. I’d run over 30 miles by this point, (although, naturally, I had no idea how far exactly) and now I was allowed to pick up the pace a little since I was feeling good. I surprised myself by running about 80% of that hill, and I almost enjoyed doing it. Before I knew it, the climb was over and I was back on the PCT!

The rest of the race was a blur of beautiful scenery, singletrack trail (with some challenging, head-on passing of the runners still headed out), more beautiful (and incredibly helpful!) volunteers, moderate climbs and descents, and a smile I couldn’t wipe off my face. My injured ankle wasn’t putting up any particularly loud protests, and I could tell by this point that I had paced myself well. Although I never had another glimpse of the women in front of me, I passed quite a few men all the way to the finish.

In this view of the Antelope Valley you can see the poppy fields in the distance. It looked like the desert was on fire!

Beautiful, runnable singletrack on the PCT!

With 7:30 on the watch I finally asked a volunteer what mile we were at. He said we had eight to go, and I found myself wondering if I could break nine hours. This was the first tangible goal I developed for this race, and since everything was feeling great, I knew without contemplation that I was going to go for it. I focused on technique to push both the ups and the downs, and had a blast doing it. I crossed the line in 8:45, 5th woman and 21st overall.

Totally happy with my time. Totally glad I skipped AR50.

RD Keira Henninger was on to hand out medals and congratulations at the finish. I happily drained a fresh bottle of chilled water and sat down in the shade knowing that this day was definitely a keeper. The trails were perfect and the abundance of flowers proved that this is clearly the best time of year for running this dry, shadeless and typically hot terrain. The weather was nearly perfect (mid to upper 70’s, as opposed to the 68 forecast earlier in the week, but nothing compared to the 90+ of Diablo the past two years) and I’d eaten and hydrated well. In fact, I couldn’t think of a single thing that went wrong on this day.

I cheered Greg and Mike, who both beat their sub-ten goals, while I happily refueled on homemade fajitas and Diet Coke. I had to call my family, who were picking me up, because I’d finished so much earlier than expected. But I’d say that’s a good thing.

Thanks so much to Keira and all the amazing volunteers. These folks were rock stars all day long. I’m thinking Leona Divide may have to become a new spring break tradition for me.

This is how I feel about the Leona Divide Trail Run!

Think More, Run Less

This past weekend was my first big race of the season, the American River 50. When I say “was,” I don’t just mean that the race itself is over. I mean that the idea of it being my first race of the season is also a thing of the past. I was a big, fat DNS at AR50.

My intention for this race was purely to use it as training, to get big miles in the month of April. I’d planned to follow it up with the Diablo Marathon the following weekend to ensure that I indeed wouldn’t take it too seriously. Unfortunately, Diablo got cancelled, and in searching for a replacement race, I came up with the Leona Divide 50. (What’s an additional 24 miles at this point, right?) Although plenty of people have questioned my plan for back-to-back 50’s, I have every confidence in my ability to take “races” as training runs, and I think it would have worked out beautifully. If I had been healthy. (And here’s where “unfortunately” starts to become my repetitive word of the day.)

As it turns out, I seem to be having a posterior tibial tendon issue. (I’d put in the actual, technical term where I have substituted the word “issue,” but I don’t think I could spell it.) To be honest, this is an issue that has plagued me for over two years, and no amount of time off seems to find any improvement. Unfortunately, the past few weeks have seen a marked increase on the pain scale, mostly likely due to increasing my weekly mileage fairly quickly.

It’s been enough to motivate me (at last!) to find an excellent physical therapist, and I’ve learned a whole lot about what is going on with my body. I’ll do my best to spare you the mind-numbing details, because the truth is, I don’t even enjoy trying to wrap my brain around it all. I’ll keep it to the basics so that we don’t all fall asleep here.

First, I love my physical therapist. He came recommended from a wise friend, so I guess it shouldn’t surprise me, but I have a really hard time trusting people in general, and especially when it comes to my running. Because, you see, I know everything. No one knows more than I, and woe to anyone who tries to tell me what to do. But this PT and I, we are on the exact same page. He has a very balanced approach, doesn’t think I’m crazy, and doesn’t necessarily think time off is always the answer. He makes sense out of a complicated picture, and he seems to approach things in much the same way that I do. Obviously he’s brilliant.

Second, I have learned that one of my legs is fully half an inch longer than the other, and this seems to be causing no small number of problems for me. The end result of all of this is that I am currently involved in the process of re-learning how to run. There’s a lot more to it than that, but that’s what it boils down to for me, and I hate it. I have to spend so much time thinking.

Thinking!

Running long distance, and trail running especially, has never been about thinking for me. It’s been the place where I have been the most free, the most at peace. In the past I have always felt in tune with my body while running, and it’s a part of the experience that I really enjoy. Lately though, we’re speaking through translators. It’s time now for me to learn the foreign language of my dysfunctional mechanics.

I know in the end, when I am healthy again, it will be worth it, but right now it’s tedious to think about every little detail of what I am doing when I run. It’s not a fun place to be when the thing that is normally a remedy for stress, becomes its main source. My love affair with running is definitely “on a break.”

So, while I’m grateful to be still running, I’ve taken many days off in an attempt to rest this inflamed tendon. The week before AR, I was out on a 30 mile trail run. At about mile 27, the complaints emanating from my tendon increased sharply in volume. It wasn’t a bad run, but it certainly caused me to question the wisdom of two 50-mile runs in a row, and the subsequent stress of this questioning made for some sleepless nights.

One lesson I learned (and will probably have to relearn many more times) is that it’s generally the indecision itself that causes the most stress. Once I decided running AR would constitute complete idiocy (although I’m fully capable of idiocy, I assure you), it was only a day before I got over the depression of my DNS and started to feel pretty good about the decision.

At this point, I’m looking at this weekend’s upcoming Leona Divide and feeling pretty excited about it. It’s a brand new race for me, and I haven’t run a new ultra in a few years. Unlike AR, it’s all on trail (much more my style), and it’s on the PCT. If you don’t know, I have a long-standing romance with the Pacific Crest Trail. Perhaps one day I’ll spend some time to wax poetic on that topic, but for now just know that I am thoroughly excited about the prospect of my first race on this trail. I’m still not taking a real taper (although the last few weeks of lower mileage have me more rested than I really should be), but without the AR50 teaser, this won’t be the “survival on dead legs” that I’d originally imagined. I’m going in with a conservative mindset, knowing I may have to back off if the tendon flares up, but also knowing that I’m pretty excited to get out there for an early season test of fitness.


Here are a few pictures from my last two weekends of running, and from yesterday’s powder day with Andrew. You can see how I have the best of both worlds in terms of getting both alpine adventures, and still finding dirt within a reasonable drive.

Newt!

Castle Peak

Climbing Donner Peak

Top of The Lake Run

Preparing to drop in