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.
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?
I was rolling down Donner Pass Rd. last weekend, just
finishing up some errands, when I had cause to reach out and turn up the volume
on 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 that
small.) What piqued my interest was the tone of voice of the announcers,
informing the listeners that the Wolverines had been shut out at halftime. They
seemed surprised. Almost worried.
I knew the team held a huge winning streak, the largest in
the state, at 34 games. Since this was the playoffs, it had the makings of a
good game, and when I pulled in the driveway I asked my husband if he wanted to
run down to Truckee High to catch the second half. What we witnessed was one of
the best sporting events I’ve seen in years.
I’ve long declared that my favorite movie genre is what my
husband calls the “feel good sports movie.” I love the drama of sports. Movies
like 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 football
game, I realized the real draw of sports like this to me – they have all the
makings of a perfect plot. They’re a story just waiting to unfold. Drama in
real life. Watching a good football game, or any sporting event, is like
reading a gripping novel where you really can’t tell what kind of ending it’s
going to have.
You couldn’t have created better plot structure for a story
than the events that took place on the field at Truckee High that day.
You had conflict: Not only do you have one team
against another, but Truckee football had the added pressure of a 34-game
winning streak spanning 3 years. KCRA TV in Sacramento called them The King of California Football. More than once, the Fallon High School fans in
the 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 championship
game.
There was plenty of rising action: Truckee didn’t get
on the board at all in the first half, starting the 3rd quarter down
by a field goal. Tension already. Then, in the second half, the lead changed
hands three times. Neither team was ever more than a touchdown away from losing
their lead. Andrew and I stood at the fence behind the end-zone with other late
arrivals, cheering and wailing with every play. We were in solidarity with
strangers with whom we had one thing in common – we wanted our team to win! With every second lost on the clock in that 4th
quarter, the tension grew.
We even had an excellent false climax: Fallon scored
and was up by 3 points with 4 minutes left to play. Truckee took almost that
entire 4 minutes to get the ball back to our end of the field. With less than
30 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!) They
squeaked into the end zone with 8 seconds left on the clock. The crowd went
absolutely NUTS! I mean, I didn’t even know we had enough people in our town to
make that kind of noise. We picked up a 15 yard penalty for “excessive
celebrating.” I didn’t really think it was excessive, considering.
And of course, the climax: “Well, game’s over, let’s
get out of here.” We walked about ten yards before changing our minds. May as well
watch the last 8 seconds play out. A Fallon player caught the kick-off and
somehow found a hole. He was running. Flying. Streaking for that end zone. Oh.
My. God.
I could imagine the radio announcers: “He’sat the 30! The 20! The 10!”
“”No! No! No!” We all screamed. They were at the far end of
the 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 painful
moans. SO CLOSE!
But guess what? That wasn’t the climax. It was just another
false climax! That is what you call some good rising action. It’s a page-turner
of 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 penalty
called for one more play, even though no time remained. You have got to be
kidding me!
The players lined up again as we all held our breaths. The
Fallon players couldn’t make it happen, and once again Truckee fans roared –now
with equal parts relief and triumph.
And that, really, was the resolution: Relief,
triumph, and looking to the State game this weekend. All the most exciting
stories end with the climax, the resolution only a footnote: The End.
Thanks for the drama,
Truckee boys. Good luck at State tomorrow!
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.
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?
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.
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 -- stretch out our arms farther ..."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
It was sometime last winter on a backcountry ski day with
Andrew – one of those days with clear blue skies, chest-deep powder, and no one
around but my favorite adventuring partner. In other words: perfect.
I recognized this perfection, this utter
happiness, and breathed it in. Held on to its every passing moment. Not just
because it was glorious, but because I knew it wouldn’t last.
“When do think was the best time in your life – when you
were happiest for the longest amount of time?” I asked suddenly.
We’d just spent 30 minutes laboriously breaking a fresh skin
track and now stood at the top of a ridge, looking out over a wide, white
landscape of mountains, preparing for the reward of a beautiful float down
through the powder.
“I mean,” I felt the need to explain, “it’s just so hard for
me to feel content. Satisfied. It’s
not that I’m unhappy a lot, it’s just that I always have this feeling of
anxiety that there’s something more I need to do, to achieve.”
I find such beautiful locations, ones that require such
effort to find, to be the perfect settings for these kinds of soul-digging conversations.
Not long after, I read this post by Nathan Bransford which
struck such a chord with me that thoughts of it have been marinating in my
brain since reading it seven months ago. Mr. Bransford proposes that writers,
by their very nature, are strivers – those not content to simply live, but to
always reach for something more. His writes what has become my favorite recent
quote about writing:
“Writing is an act of getting down on your hands and knees
and pushing on the ground and hoping the world spins on a slightly different
axis. 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 as
a runner, too. Even after a nearly perfect race, (which is rare) the sense of
satisfaction never lasts. Always, there is something new to accomplish, some
new goal to occupy ones attention. And this is good because if there wasn’t, we
would never get better. Never run faster, never go farther. This is what moves
us 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 that
everything relates. So, it was not surprising that while reading John Steinbeck’s
The Pearl that same week, this quote
jumped out at me:
“For it is said that humans are never satisfied, that you
give them one thing and they want something more. And this is said in
disparagement, whereas it is one of the greatest talents the species has and
one that has made it superior to animals that are satisfied with what they
have.”
And I began to wonder – is it not just writers, not just
runners? Is it all of us?
I was especially intrigued by the assertion that our
inability 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 having
accomplished big things. They were people who were not content to rest on the
glory of their early successes. They always strove for something more.
So perhaps dissatisfaction is a talent. Still, I have to think it’s one best
tempered with an attempt at balance and an appreciation for one’s blessings.
Because Mr. Bransford’s post related the idea of striving to
The Great Gatsby, and to F. Scott
Fitzgerald himself, it came to mind while recently watching John Green’s video
on Gatsby. If you’re familiar with
the book, his is an excellent, and concise, interpretation that is fun to
watch.
As I followed the links on the serpentine path of the internet
chain, I eventually watched the American Masters episode on Fitzgerald, “Winter Dreams.” It was fascinating! I learned what Mr. Bransford had already asserted – that Fitzgerald
himself was a striver, like the characters of his stories, someone always
reaching for more. And in spite of all this striving, Fitzgerald felt that the
golden moment – what we think we want – can never live up to our dreams. The
important 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 than
the “being” because real life is much more challenging than our dreams. It’s
messier, sometimes uglier, and often more mundane.
In spite of all of this, I think it’s far too easy to
glorify the tortured artist, and I don’t think a person has to be unhappy in
order to feel driven. I hope not anyway. Jay Gatsby himself was described as
having an “extraordinary gift for hope.” Maybe that’s the flipside of
dissatisfaction, the positive spin. From our discontent, hope is born.
I know happiness comes from within. I know this. It comes
from living deliberately, appreciating the small moments, doing meaningful work, and developing
strong relationships with other people. This is why I could stand at the top of
that mountain with Andrew and live that happiness so fully, even while
accepting that it may be short-lived.
I also know that this inner feeling of
need, the desire for something more, to do something more, can drive a girl
nuts if she lets it.
I have a recording of a live U2 concert. At one point in the
show, in order to introduce the next song, Bono declares to the crowd, “I don’t
know about you, but I feel pretty good about the fact that I still haven’t
found what I’m looking for.”
Honestly, I don’t know if I feel good about it. I do know
that I have an extraordinary hope that I won’t leave this earth without having
affected, 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 mean the good ones, of course. Not the ones your dog
leaves you when you were gone all day and he got into the garbage.
Surprises like coming home to a spotlessly clean house after
a 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 to
drop off two friends in Yosemite for their 3-week John Muir Trail trek and
deciding while there to join them for the entire journey? (For the record, that last one
has never happened to me, but it did happen to someone I know well. Rumor has
it that his wife was infinitely awesome when he called from Tuolumne to say he’d
changed his plans and wouldn’t be home for a few more weeks. She told him to go
for it and have fun. An unexpected response from a spouse can be another good
surprise.)
Even a fairly benign surprise, like a notoriously unprepared
student who turns in all his homework, can be wonderful. A change in the
weather, a favorite movie on TV, a really good book – all little tidbits to be
appreciated.
This past weekend I was the creator of a pretty darn good
surprise (if I do say so myself) for my husband. We’ve been married 11 years
this month, and I wanted to celebrate. We’d done absolutely nothing for our
ten-year, which seemed kind of sad, but I’m not a fan of feeling overly
obligated about these things. I confess, I’m usually terrible when it comes to
presents. Christmas, birthdays, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day – I suck at all of
them, pretty much. Andrew is even worse than I, and at least we can agree that Valentine’s
Day should require nothing more than just having dinner together, (usually at
home). Birds of a feather, yes.
So this year, when inspiration struck, I didn’t hesitate. Surprises
make the best gifts, even when there’s no occasion whatsoever. (In this case
though, 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 beautiful
area, it’s important to get out there and enjoy it even if opportunity only allows
short trips. And so it was that Andrew and I found our way to the coast for four days
of California beauty and adventure.
Our weekend included a night in the village of Saratoga and
entertainment by Emmy Lou Harris at the Mountain Winery. In past years, we’ve
seen her on this same weekend at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, with many, many
more people in attendance. I hate to think we’re getting too old for the mass
crowds 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. Surprisingly
perfect weather – sunny and warm, no rain, no fog. Trails through Big Basin
Redwoods 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 on
Highway 1 between Santa Cruz and Half Moon Bay? How many open space preserves
along 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.
